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? Hy SWEET SISTERS OF INCHVARRA, by Annie Ashmore, NEXT WEEK. }

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Ne, eo SS BRAINS
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2 1 ; Enterea According to Act of Congress. in the Year 1874, du. Street d& Smith, in the Office of the Librarian of Conoress, Washington, D C.

~ Vot. XXxIX.

 

 

 

 

 

STREET & SMITH ‘ Nos. 27, 29, 31 Rose St.,

Three Dollars Per Year. {FRANCIS S. STREET,
Proprietors. P.O. Box 4896, New York.

Two Copies Five Dollars. {FRANCIS S. SMITH.

 

 

-. NEW YORK, JUNE 29, 1874

 

SoS T EOE A

 

 

| pay much attention to it at the time, although I

\ Tale of the Sea for Girls and Boy PN rene tries
THE BOY DIVER;

Nee AecE Ft |

’ “BY ROGHR STARBUCE.

 

boys sang out that there was a sail in sight in

the offing; so I took off my shoes and jacket, and

 
  
     

ran up t0 the mainmast head to get a look at it.
Just then, little Annie, the captain’sdaughter, who +
was on deck, sitting onthe after rail, near therope Ks
holding the kedge-anchor, caught at the pin to

raise herself up on the top of the bulwarks, that
Beau \ K.7 De tats she might see the sail. The pin gave way, down
N - Ca she fe Ta ; A RY A fia LH , | went the anchor, and the coils of the rope, as it

ran; flying up from the deck, caught her round the

 

 

 

Lv

 

ankles, jerking her overboard! I heard the splash

 

and her gurgling cries, as she struck thesea; but I

 

z

 

 

a
CHAPTER L __ s segewhere T can go toresta little, and get.a doctor, ; give usa job at stowing some old ropes in his | -
Plt pay you for it.” ' hold. We went aboard, the captain telling us to

You can come’ to our’ house,” said ‘Walter, come down to him in the cabin when we were

 

A SHOT IN THE DABE.
The sharp report of a pistol—the stifled cry of

murder! re bie de
These were the noises heard, on a certait dark,
stormy night, by. Mrs. Marston, a widow, and.
her daughter Cora, seated in their humble. cot-
tage, within a stone’s throw of Sag Harbor. ,
Cora, @ beautiful ‘girl of seventeen, whe hua I Mrs. Marston, although in delicate health, was

just finished one of the fishing nets she had been not the woman fo faint at sight at blood.
weaving'for a Fulton'street Ori yay orpid oa “The weund blecd+-hadiv.” ehe sala. “You

| must bathe it in. water, Oora; and you, Walter,
run for the doctor.”

hér chait” . While Cora was bathing the wound, the old man ; =
: i r said: ‘ } ———
Raising the sash, the young girl, peering out ——
‘ ‘J think that,in the darkness, I must have SS
into the darkness, could at first see nothing; but, |

as her eyes became accustomed to the gloom,

kindly; “it’s the nearest—in fact, we wouldn’t let | through, and he’dpay us. While we were getting

you go anywhere élse in such a state as you are.” | the coils down, I noticed.a kedge-anchor hanging
over the side by a rope fast to a pin, but didn’t

 

 

Aenean

. He took hold of. the old man’s arm on_one side,

 

 

and Cora, holding on thewaist of his coat on the
other, they. helped him into the house. .

 

ettpcinennesitrianianiannanritipainn taint

her, sprang to her feet, and ran to the window,

 

while her mother sank back, nearly fainting, in

ae me

LTT muna
a
NTL Le

l

been mistaken for some other person. I have no.

aS

Sa

enemies that I know of.”

“Are you stopping at Sag Harbor?” inquired
Mrs. Marston.
. “Yes, with my nephew. — By the way, he must
| be apprised of my condition the first thing in the
morning?” fai ve

Walter, in about half’ an hour after departing,
‘returned with the doctor, who examined the in- |'
jury, and pronounced it a flesh wound.

she fancied she could discern the dim outlines of
a retreating figure.

She shut the window, to return, pale and trem-
bling, to her mother’s side.

“Oh, dear!” gasped Mrs. Marston, “I am afraid
something terrible has’ happened. I heard the.
ery of murder, and it is plain a murder has been:

WYNN
Monee |

PPAR NA UT

egrerncenene encanta tte,

TIHOLUDE ones

TU

i!
~

committed, Ido so wish your: brother Walter
were here, that he might take the lantern, andj". A narrow.escape, though,” he added; “a quar- ;
go out and see. I cannot think ‘what detains |‘ © , : i :
him!’

Ten minutes later, while the two women were

ter of an inch lower, and amputation would have
been necessary.”
‘After the physician had dressed the wound,
the stranger said he was at present stop-
: ping at. the Hotel, with his nephew, and
He was a fine-looking lad of thirteen, tall and aaked to be taken Share in tha cactane carriage.
strongly built, with dark dee and brown hair. The medical man, however, advised him to re-
“Here's your milk, mother,” he said, putting a main where he was for a few days; and Cora and
kettle on the table. “I had to, wait for it, And | her mother haying kindly entreated him to de so
he consented. nit ' a
When the doctor had gone and .the patient was

still conversing on the subject, the door flew open,
and in ame Walter, his face flushed and his eyes

 

bright with excitement.

now, just listen. As Iwas coming along toward
J here, I heard the ery of murder, and a few min-

 

utes after somebody ran against me hard enough
almost to knock me down, : Before I could say a
‘word to him, whoever he was, he had passed me,

put to bed, Walter informed his mother and sis-
ter that the wounded stranger, whose name was
Mr. Henry, was very wealthy; that he had heard

and was‘out'of Sight in thedark, ‘Therafore, I | 8° fom the hotel keeper that very afternoon.

“~~ ‘6 E ” : ‘ . .
think somebody ain’t far from ‘here with a bullet The hotel?” said his; mother:. ‘Pray, pres

hole through his body, murdered.”

“Did you see”
“No,” interrupted Walter, “I didn’t see only an adventure near it—a diving adventure.”
“Diving again!’ cried Mrs. Marsten. “Oh, |

were you doing away off there?”
“Oh, I often go near the hotel; and to-day I had

 

 

whatI’ve told you; but I can imagine the rest, and

Tmean to take the lantern, and look around for the Walter, I tremble lest you sometimes meet with =

an accident.”

 

dead body.” a ee
“T will,go with you,” said Cora. . “Why, mother, it. comes as natural to me as if = : =
wall “Allright!” answered Waltér. “Gd me ahead » |i was a fish. I can beat any boy around atit,”); >— SS = === SL; Uf n\ \ i AW SS
He had soon procured and lighted the lantern, iy added, proudly; “aud thas theyesase: got : == = a= Ss SS St a i i = a ACT iT =: cn
while Cora stood ready, with her hat and shawi |®°™any jobs: ‘You know I have earned.fitteon - — SSS ‘ TRC eT — a
: : i / SSSaaaasSssEZ = i !

 

dollars and twenty-five cents this summer, and LH tts

on} wu

“They ‘left: the house, and commenced ‘their | MY diving adventure to-day has brought mé five z

_| dollars more,” | . ia

Soon they heard groans, and proceeding in the | So saying,he pulled a five dollar bill from his
direction,of the noise, they came upon an old. pocket, and held it up exultingly.

man, bléeding from a wound in the shoulder. ' “Tell us all about it,” said Cora.

“Who did this?” inquired, Walter, bluntly. “Well, you see, I was. with some other boys, |‘. = . | :

5 “IT cannot tell you; it was too dark'for me to walking along shore near the hotel, when Captain baste 3B UE OY ba pee ~

ee,” the old man answered, feebly; “but Iam } Cole, who owns the big sloop anchored by the

faint from loss of blood, and if you can tell me | dock, sings out tous to come aboard, and he'd!»

search, which was not a long one.

 

 

     

 

   

   

 

‘A WINK AND MADE THE DIVE!”

—————

<q] PULLED OFF MY HAT AND COAT IN

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

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.

*

 

 

 

  
      
     
       
  
 
  

 
     

 

 

 

 

 

9

acme cam

 

 

 

 

 

only saw her a few seconds, for, as the rope tautened, she
went under like a fush dragged by the heavy uichort

“Oh, mother, how horrible if looked to see her white
face turned up, under water, as she was drawn downs ib
was more than J could bear. Ijust gave one look, then
away | went, cleaving the air like uw shot, as I dove from
the MAINMAST HEAD!

“7 got hold of her and held on to her as she was drawn
down, but when we got to the bottom 1 thought that
neither she nor | would ever come upagain! | tried to loosen
the rope from round her ankles but didn’t succeed. My
head swam—l felt as if I would choke and must give up.
But I was determined to save her, and at last succeeded
in getting the rope clear of her, when lL rose with her to
the purfuce and was picked up by the captain, who had
jumped into his boat alongside!

“Poan tell you it was the hardest time, under water, 1

band in his pocket untiave the Wollars!”

“Why, Walter! gasped Mrs. “Marston, turning pate,
while ler eyes beamed adimitingly upon him. (“Le was a
brave deed, but 1 cannot have wy boy risk his life}?

—
CHAPTER If.
THE NEPHEW,
Next morning there was a kuock at the door, which

Cora opened to find herself confronted /by a tall, broad-
Bhouldered young man, apparently sbout twenty-two

i didn? ; hthe caphi wt hi
@ver had, but didn rage te Ae the capbauin pr Bt de

Fe of age, well dressed hd not bad-looking, although a

is face was thin and he had sinall, glittering black eyes,

He gave his name us Albert Henry, saying he was the
nephew of the wounded man, and hud Come with a car-
riage to take him to the hotel, meanwhile looking at Cora
in d bold, scrutinizing manner that called a deep blush to
her cheen,.

i Peaving him with her mother the young girl went up
Blairs to fell the patient who had called.

«Very wells much obliged to you. Be so kind as to tell
him 1 will be down ia a minute.” As she Was turning to
leave, he suid: “Pardon me, but you are a nice young
lady. What do you do to get along these hard times ??

<'We—we get ou pretty well,’’ she stamimered.

The old man, however, shook his head,
 4Be frank with me, young lady. You find it pretty difM-
cult to meet expenses, eli?”

“Well—yesy sir.”

“What do you do for a living ?”

“7 weave fishing neis,’?

The old man pulled a card from his pocket and present-
ed it to the girl The address oa the card was, ‘Anson
Henry, No. — St. Murk’s Place.”’

“Whenever you get into trouble drop mea line. Should
you lose your work | can procure better for you,”

Gora agsented, then went down stairs to hear the ne-
phew of the wounded man say to her mother:

“1 would give a thousand dollars for the apprehension
of the rascal who attacked my uncle.”

Soon after the latter made his appearance,

“Oh, Lam overjoyed to see you doiig so welll’? ex-
Claimed the young man, rushing forward and seizing the
uninjured arin, “You have had a narrow escape. But
for the dark the rascal’s bullet would doubtiess huve goue
th ough your heart!’

“Doubtiess it would. Yes, I dare say it would, He
couldu’t see to fire very straight in the dark. What's that
slicking out of your coat pocket, nephew ?”

What!’ said the young man, “0, that’s the stock of
arevolver—a good Cull’s revolver—which I intend to
carry herealter, 80 that I can pay off in his own coin, any
desperado, such as the one who attacked you.”

alter stood looking up so earnestly tnto the face of the
speaker that his moter was obliged to make him a sign
to desist.

When the uncle and nephew were gone, she said to

him,

«Walter, you should never stand and gape at a person

in Lhat way.’
» “I know it,” said Walter; ‘but, somehow, I couldn’t
help it.” That nephew looked so sirange, when the old
man spoke of Is revolver; his face turned pale, aud
Sweat came out on his forehead.”

“Nonsense,” said his mother.
in his head?”

. Walter is a little suspicious I’m afraid,’ remarked his
er.

| “By the way he looked at you, Cora, I think he admired
yon,” said Mrs. Marston, “That young man will find an
excuse to cull again. Pray den’t discourage him, aud
don't frown when he looks at youl’

te may look at me as much ashe pleases—or at the
‘wail!’ “

; om how you talk!.Would you not like to marry
well?"

“©, mother!’ exclaimed the girl, the tears suddenly
rolling down her cheeks, You Kuow that can never be.”
~ Child, what do you mean ?”? .

“Mother, Say no more.”’

4 “You and your lover, George Belton, have quarrgjed ?°"
. “Yu are right, although 1 have hever spoken of it to a
living soul.”

“}-is most time he returned home—is it not?”

“Yes; his vessel left Sag Harbor two yeurs ago, to be
gone twenty-five montis.”

“Tell me all about your quarrel.”

<it came about in this way,’? answered Cora, sighing.
“Some person—l never could ascertain who—told him
that Barnes, whom you know 1 Cannot endure, had beep
ree to escort me home, I told him it was not so,

“What has the boy got

 
  
  

accidentally jostling against him, and as stated, his face
having been rurned, owing to his position when the blow
with the knife was given, now spoke to his shipmate.
“Have youa good hold?”

WY ag?

the gasket.”

“So 1 think,

They proceeded to lash themselves as well as their situ-
ation would permit,

“Dm afraid they won’t lower a boat for us.” said
Sykes,

“iu afraid not, answered George; ‘it is too rough to
lower, although they must by tnis time Know of the acci-
dent.”

“Yes, they Know of tl now,’ answered Sykes; ‘but what
are we tu do?’ he added, in a quavering, ror veles:
for ike nost-men OF is. Stan, he wa the first to, lose
heart invreal peril. (00 a a es Ve
“We will huve to da ;
ton, I liope we are ih the track Of We GOasters, 4d that
we may be seen orpicked up at daylight. IE

“Td ‘We will ,”’ gas: ed Sykes, ry '
: beh , all night Jong the two

Tirough storm and d
men clu vo the floating bog
sail.

The wind was slill blowing a gale, butthe.sea was not
uite so. rough a8 it had been on the previous day.

“T ant thirsty,’ said Sykes. “I wish I had a Qrop of
water.”

“We may get some before long,’? said George, ralsing
himselfand eagerly watching the clouds on the westeru
senboard-

“What do you mean

“If Linistake not, yonder is land,”

“Land! land did you say? Where away ??

“Tn among those clouds. Unless 1 am much deceived,
see the hue of land there, and we are drifting for it.”

“| hope we will soon get there,’? whined Sykes, ‘for I
feel nearly worn out.’?

“Iu time we will be there, by night, perhaps.’’

“Pin afraid Ll can’t hold on us loug as that.”

“You cau if you try. Besides you are lashed to the
spar.”

The castaways drifted on. Before nightfall they were
carried within aw mile of the land, which was much nearer
than it had seemed to be,

“What place is it, | wonder?" said Sykes, ‘and I won-
der if we will find water there.”

“It is the Brazil coast. There will be plenty of water
here, I dure say.”

“And wild auimals, too, Tsuppose,” said Sykes, slud-
deringly. : }
By dark they found themselves in shallow water, when,
cutting Joose from the spar, they proceeded to wade
ashore, wud were soon on the beach.

“We will luoK for water as Soon as the moon rises,’’ said
Belton, ‘and Dve no doubt we'll find it.”

They sat down, waiting for the moon to rise, Soon. it
was seen lifting 1ts broad, silvery disc above the eartien
horizon. dialf an hour later tie two men commenced
their search.

They had not proceeded far when they heard the roaring
and rippling of a cascade.

They looked ahead, and saw the gleam of the water
sparkling in the silver light of the moon, far up on a pre-
cipice, which they would be obliged tu ascend lo gel at
the crystal fount.

They started up the rugged sides of the precipice, and
were soon sluking their thirst with nature’s most deli-
cious beverage for meu in their situation,

=

 

CHAPTER V.
THE GULLY.

“This is good!’ cried Sykes, hoarsely, as after having
drunk his fili, he proceeded to bathe his tace aud neck,
“Ay, better than whisky or gin?’ said Belton; ‘for my
part, | could never understand how men Could crave
alcoholic drinks,”
“L wouldn't mind haying some good whisky now,” said
Sykes, smacking lis lips. ‘lt puts life into a fellow.”
“And takes it out of him, too,” auswered Belton,
“Well, L wish I had somethin’ to eat, now,’’ said Sykes.
“I'm as hungry as a wolf”?
“We will have to wait ull daylight for that,’) remarked
Belton. ‘Meanwhile, l’m going to the top of this preci-
pice to look fora sail. Itis a Clear bight, aud we migut
sight one.”?
“Pll go with you,’ said Sykes.
They mounted to the top of the hight, which com-
muanded an extensive view of the sea and of the sur-
rounding country.
“What a beautifal place!’ exclaimed Belton, as his
eyes watidered from the sea before him to that other sea
of waving verdue visibie on every hand.
As far as the é€ye could reach iuland, he beheld tops of
tall trees waving in the silver light of the moon, while
far beyoud them exteuded the dark, misty outlines of
mountains.
“Beautiful, did you say,’ answered Sykes, curling his
lip; ‘fer my part, 1 see no beauty in anythin’. about here,
Put me down toa well-spread table, aud there’s beauty
for. you.’? Belton smiled.
“il must acknowledge that I could also see much beauty
a big piece of roasted meat at present,’ he remarked,
As Belton spoke his gaze again waudered seaward,
“Sail O!" he suddenly exclaimed.

 

 
   

 

t he seemed to doubt mey whereupon this roused my sai elena
‘price, and | said I was afraid we could never agree. He she ‘ar nists poeta maa ae ee wer =
ten replied that if 1 ae so, = were bees we should taut, apparently em yd ihe coed gu
not keep con | honger. e Jeft me, and went away to want’ vit BE 58 \
Sod without nine ufaay ’ “That craft will be} ough Lo see our signal, even

1 y good-by.’?
Here the fair girl broke down, sobbing and weeping as

if her heart we break. y

a @
d of the storm-driven
sail which otherwise

 
  
     
   
   
   
   

f

   

And where now ¥

Far aloft on the fu:
ship, Triton, helping
would be blown to tatte
' (t was a fearful night.
the wild ocean. The thand
and the wind made mad musi¢ through the vessei’s rig-
gilig, sending the great seas rolling and crashing along,
their foaming crests emitting phosphorescent spurks,
which afforded the only light to relieve (he deep gloom.

Piuuging, rolling and creaking, the stout slip was borne
onward to the South American coast, from which she was
now distant about twenty miles, in the latitude of the
Brazils. A

The storm had burst on the vessel a few hours pre-
viously, since which the wind had increased-to such a
gale as conipelled the captain to scud under bare poles,
All sail having been takeu in, George; with hisshipmates,
descended to the deck.

Going aft, where the lurid light of the lantern hung up
in the mizen rigging streamed over their persons, each of
them was distinctly revealed,

Belton was a fall, handsome fellow, with .Herculean
shoulders, brown, Wayy hair, blue eyes, and clear com-
plexion.

Among those now around him, there was one fellow
Whose dark, snilen countenance, lowering brow and bru-
tal features, betokened the man of evil propensities,

This man, Whose name was Will Sykes, lad from the
first moment of the ship’s sailing, beeu distinguished for
his quarrelsome disposition. He had engaged in several
rough-aud-tumble fighis, and having »worsted thus far
each autagunist, he had fixed his dng eye on Sturdy
Beltou, with an expression which ilily said:

“J must bring Rim down, too." |

It is easy to “pick a quarrel,’ when @ man {fs go dis-
osed.

5 Sykes one day made an insuling remark to Belton, who
aid not notice him. At this the rufflan, becoming bolder,
strack the young man in the face with the palm of his
hand.

He would have given much to have recalled that blow.

Belton dealt him between the eyes enein return, which
sent him crashing headlong into the lee scuppers, and
which, for the moment, stunned him.

Staggering to his feet, he showed no disposition to renew
the combat. He had never before imagined what tremend-
ous power was contained in the muscles of Belten’s good
right arm. The blow gave him asplitting lieadache for
weeks after, and he could never look at Belton from that
time without feeling an uncomfortable conviction that the
man was his master,

Wiis, however, only added to the desire for mean re-
venge, and he resolved mentally that Belton should never
return home!

As ye! he had found no opportunity to carry his dark
design into execution, but he still watched and waited,
hoping the time would soon come.

«You, Belton and Sykes!” cried the captam, as the men

tood near tl innacie, ‘just go forward and fasten the
gasket aroul the staysail, for the clew has got loose, aud
the whole sail will soon go, in this blow, unless it be se-
cured.

“Ay,
and away they went.

* darkness rested on
, thelightuing flashed,

Belton sprang on the bowsprit, and was proceeding to

pass the gasket to Sykes, wlio was on the other side of
him, when the latter, thinking this a good chance to car-
ry out the design he had formed, suddenly contrived, as if
by accident, to jostie the young man, whose elbows mere-
ly rested on the sail, with af his might.

Belton went over sideways, aud Sykes thought his
“work”? was doue; but he svon noticed that the other
had hold of the footrope, to which he clung desperately
with both hands, while the pluuging ship now and then
buried him in the foaming seas.

 

CHAPTER IY.
BAFFLED.

Sykes looked quickly behind him. No person was near
enough to note his ements, From the belt about his
wais: ie drew a long, Well-sharpened sheath-knife, and
made a blow at the young mian, whose face was now
turned from him.

This blow doubtless would have taken effect, but for an
accideut Which, atthat critical moment, was certainly op-
portune.

The ship making a plunge more furious than any which
had yet taken place, the tautening of the fore and foretop
slays, as the foremust was suddenly jerked violently back,
caused the boom to give way, falling into the sea, and
thus sending the Knife of the would-be’ murderer flying
from his grasp.

Both men cicng to the boom, while the ship’s bows
striking one end of it, the vessel weut spinning rapidly
past, leaving the drifting seamen far astern in the dark-
ness. ;

Beiton, who knew nothing of Sykes’s attempt on his

ay, sir,” the two men answered, simultaneously

4 won'tlive long. My disease is of the

  

to-Itight; for it is almost ds clear as day, aud we’d better
wave akerelitel’* =F
“Ay, ay, here it is,” said Sykes.

He pulled a faded kerchief from his pocket, and pro-
ceeded to wave it. er *

“By George, I believe she sees us, now!*! exclaimed
Belion, asa flag wus seen moving up and down atthe
vessel’s gaff.

“Ay, ay, she sees us fast enough,’ said Sykes.

Stepping back a few paces, So as to sufRd on a rising
point of rock, Belton also waved his Kerchiet.

Sykes, glancing toward him, a singular expression
crossed the man’s face.

It was a louk of exultation, and seemed to betoken
some evil purpose.

He had noticed that Belton stood with his back to one
of those deep openings or gorges which are ofien found
in precipices.

What, then, would be more easy, thought the ruffian,
than to push his companion over tuto the gorge!l—a task
which would not require much exertion of strength, asa
very “Slight shoye would send the young sailor into the
dark guily.

Had not the vessel appeared in sight, and were it not
that the castaway's signal had been seen, Sykes would
not have thought of ridding himself of one whose forti-
tude and courage might be of use Lo him on this perilous
coast,

No sooner was the lark plan formed in the villaiti's
mind, than he resolved, as soon as possible, to carry it
into execution.

He advanced, as if by accident, to the side of Belton;
then, turning, he threw himself against him with tremen-
dous force.

The push was so quick and unexpected that Belton dis-
appeared in the gully with a suddenness which caused
Sykes to almost lose his own balance and follow him. |
But he managed to regain his footing by throwing him-

below.

beads of perspiration came out on his brow.

 

sound came up from those dark depths!

the dead mau rise up and coniront him.

“My oath is fulfilled!’ he muttered, hoarsely.”’
he should never go home, and he never shall!
the fate of them as balks Will Sykes!’

a boat was lowered and pulled to the shore,

cried Mr. Burns—ihe name of the first officer.
“Belton !

you see, he lias not loug been dead |”?

glass."?
“I was agoing to to tell you,” said Sykes.

do you see, he feil head over heels in 11.”

are sure he was lost???

and called, but I got no answer.”?

mate.
disappeared very sudden like.”

Sykes now stepped into the boat, and was soon after on
deck telling his wicked falsehood to his shipmates, who
crowded about him.

CHAPTER YI.

A SURPRISE.

About afortnight after the attack madeon Mr. Henry,
he and his nephew left Sag Harbor. A week later, the
widow Marston and her daughter were surprised by a visit
from the old man, who at once, when seated, commenced
business by stating that lis health was now very bad.

“Very bad,” continued the old mam, “and Vin afraid I

heart, and that, you
know, sonmetiines carries people off suddenly. Well, being
alraid of that, | have to state that Tintend in a day or two
to will the bulk of my fortune to this good young woman,
looking toward Gora, as a reward not only for the kind
manner in which she treated me, but also because I
know of no person better deserving it than herself. I have,
moreover, uo living relative except my nephew, and he
being as rich as I, stands in no need of what will prove
invaluable to one who earns but scanty wages by toiling
hard from morning to night.”

“But sir,” began the bewildered Cora, ‘he has a better
right toit than J.”

“Not so, my dear young lady. He has more than enough
to last hima lifetime, and afford him every comfort he
desires; whereas you have nothing.

So saying, the old man rose, and bowing, departed,
leaving the two women in :. state of mind better imagined
than described, rs

That afternoon Albert called, as he was in the habit of

 

“We had better lash ourselves to the spar with some of

wy ea ee \
a the best we ¢an,” answered Bel-

“When dawn caine, they looked about them in vain for a]

self sideways trom the top of the rock to the precipice
Here he stood, trembling in every limb, while. great
Then he advanced to the edge of the gully, and, peering
down, listened if he might hear any nvise. But not a
: ) The murderer
turned away quickly, as if fearing lo behold the spirit of

“T said
Such be

An hour after, the ship lying off and on a mile distant,

The moment it was near enough, Sykes recognized the
officer who headed the boat as the first mate of the Tri-

ton.
“Hello! by George! this is lucky! but where’s Belfon?”

QO, you'll never see the poor fellow agin!’ dissipation, he said, with some asperity of manner.
cried Sykes, pretending to wipe away. a tear, “and yet, do

“Dead? Why there was scmebody with you on the
precipice. The captain and I saw him through our nigit-

“There's a
deep gully up there, and in steppin’ back without thinkin’,

“By George! this is unfortunate,’ said themate. “You

“How could he help being? hat gully, I don’t believe,
has a bottom less nor three hundred feet deep. 1 called

“Well, then, he’s a gone Cause sure enough!” said the
“The captain and I noticed that one of you two

 

 

 

 

Mr. Henry, who wasvery frauk about his affairs, after
his nephew was seated, said to him:

Albert, I intend willing the bulk of my fortune fo Cora
Marston. I shall see my lawyers in a few days, and have
the papers made out,’”

“What? exclaimed Albert, almost bounding off his
seat. ‘Surely, uncle, you are ouly jesting. Ha, hala
good jokel”’

“No joke at g I can assure yous

“Ig it possible you are really in earnest?’ said Albert,
fairly turning pale.

“Never was moreso in all my life, But what of it?
What is the matter? Why don’t you congratulate me?”

; “04, 1 see,” sald Albert; “you are going to marry
her." aikin JA ‘
| “Marry herf Ho! hol ho! There you are out.

      

 

could tiave knelt at her feet, and deemed himself honored
by so doilig; yet he was’ forced to accept the position she
accorded hin,

Mrs. Lathrop was out, the father and brothers engaged
in their places of business, so there was no escape from a
tele-a-iele, They talked vf the country, of people and
events, in which they had been mutually interested; yet
not a word of What Was uppermost in their hearts,

He wished to tel ber of his-own plans and hopes, but
her manner forbade this. He had often anticipated this
meeting, yet how different was it from what he had
dreamed! Still he knew this proud, queenly girl joved
him, Why could he not break through the reserve in
which she had intrenched herself, and compel her to ac-
knowledge that in li pe had bound it to his

own? i
Lmightas well

  

  

So near and yet so\ fay a we

 

The deathly pain which had overspread the face of
ithe young njwn had not yet left it. He seemed to susp for
‘breath. “o) 6 ee idia) ‘ rae
“Comel’ gaid, his uncle, helding:
dou’t you congratulate meh So 110

  

+

Ulat i if-—'? ;
“TC wha teSpenk aut.) Vy de eo ,
“Weil, if you will bedoing wisely.’’ | ns
Wisely?) "Al! nephew, you! were slays a little too
caulious.’* iF) ‘ He
i believe that 7s a failing of mine,’!’ a -
AS he spoke his glance wiudered involuntarily to ter
wounded urm of his uncle, whieh the latter stil! wore fn
a sling. ; 1
“There was nothing cautious about that,’ sald the old
man, quickly noting the direction of the glance, “You
offered, | believe, as lurge a reward for the upprehension
of the assailant as I did myself?
“Why, yes, I Know I did,” said Alberts and as he spoke
he became even puler than belore. Soon, however, he
recovered his sel{-possession, “The fact is, uncle,’ he
went on, ‘‘you took me so by surprise that | hardly knew
what l was saying. 1 dou’t Know, after all, but you are
right in this matter. You ¢ertuiuly have great discern-
ment of character. It would be a good thing for that poor
girl, L have no doubt; awd Thope you will believe me
when I say thay 1 synipathize with you iu the pleasure
which the plan seems to afford you."
The young man then-took Jeave of his uncle and went
to his owu residence, when, entering his gorgeously fur-
nished apartinent, he threw himself on a lounge,
“Now then,’ he muttered, ‘“Hereis something unex-
pected; but if I play my cards right the bait may yet full

iuto my hands!’ os
CHAPTER VII.

IN THE GULLY,
As stafed, the push Will Sykes haa given George Belton
was a violent one. :
The young man went headlong into the gully as he fell,
instinctively throwing out his ar:us,
Ten feet below the top of the opening his hands came in
contact with a rugged, projecting point of rock,
His flugers clused over il, but he was going down too
fast to retain his hold. On he went, but very few feet
further, when struck a projecting platform, on which
he lay stunned and motionless!
Full a quarter of an hour elapsed ere he recovered his
senses. ‘Then, naturally enough, Ne fancied, in the con-
fused state of his mind, that he was ip his bunk aboard
the Triton, ane Wad but just waked,
He prepared toespring from what he believed to be his
buuk, when, his hands coming in contact wilh the rock,
he paused. A fortupate pause, for, had he made the
spring, he would have gone down tothe bottom of the
deep ubyss, which the rocky platform overhung.
The feeling of the rock puzzied him. Slowly his mem-
ory returned, until he récailed the event of Sykes pushing
hin into the gully. }
“Good Heavens! Iam then in it now!" he exclaimed.
He cautiously felt about him; then glancing up and see-
ing the stars above him, he comprehended his situation.
A thrill of horror went through his frame. He perceived
Han he waa at least twenty feet below the top of the
abyss.
How then would he get out?
He ran his hands over the rocky wall, but if was too
smooth to ascend,
A horribic, lingering death seemed in store for him.
Here, probably, he would remain to dicof starvation and
tnirst in that miserable hole, for who was there to alford
him assistance on this lone coast. ‘
At length the gray dawn stole over the cliff, partially
lighting the imtenor of tle gully,
Then Bellow shouted, in a loud, clear voice, hoping
that a footstep he now heard above might prove to be
that of a hutian being. ;
Soon there appeared at the opening a. young maiden
girl of surpassiug beauty, with a@ face lighted by a pair of
large, dark eyes, and with loug, Sliuning musses of black
hair falling over her shoulders, from which gracefully
drooped a mane of red-cotion cloth, ;
The moment she saw the imperiled sailor, she went
away, to soon reappear with a Jong, sliort vine, one end
of which she secured firmly to a rocky spur, lowering to
him the other, by means of which he drew himself up
from the gully.
He explained to her how he came there, when she said

       
  

    

    

   
  

his hand, any hy |

NO VE :
“1 the fit is, stan merefsdlbent, “yon/took me so
by alprice. OF course itis vel) taasinbie ony our part—4/e

{8 Cheerful ;
(warded for the etfert. Then, too, 60 many hew objets

    

    
   

divide them, ‘The-slighteat faltering) her voice, even a
MS MO enPot her liwnds, woul have pre

Awhit, b rife first. sulgtatiouw, Meither of (hese wag,

“Bpparenty™ yy + . ae Wil Ie

. As hel r closety; he gould see that \she hig
hitnged } fuce was Bow, at of a wotmin
nilerstvo@ somet hibg of her OWN Mature, and wobdg
hat the fiture might bring. Always aceustomed

control, the past erat had
lative than) before.~ She had comipelled herself to a
she yas far from

interest had.presefted themselves Uiat she had no (Hae)
reverie or idjé~dreaming, Loy Patnanr alone kuéw Ter
secret, and would have died pither thaw beiray her.

Each day she was more and more convinced that she
could never be happy with one whose principles were al
variance with her own, yet her head responded to no
Wart we glance of affection from uny who synipathized
with her, ) ' ’

She had no fear that Louis Bowker would come to her
with false words upon his lips. She belleved hint wo hon-
orable for thai; and so he was. Jt seemed a little thing to
staud between them—this prejudice, as he termed it, Why
could he not ackuowledge himself wrosug, aud thus re-
move tie obstacle to his happiness?

Because he was not yet fuily convinced, and, moreover,
the woiau who Joved him must love lili well enough to
accept him as he was,

Youu see he was by no means perfect, He had been flat-
tered and praised all his life. Me was a favorite with wo-
tien, both young and old, and hardly before this hada
wish of hisown been thwarted, Yet liere sat. oue whom
he had held in his arms, Whom he had caressed passion-
ately und fondly, while now he dare not so much as raise
her hand to his lips,

It was a relief to both when Mrs, Nelson came in, and
mindful of their obligation welcomed hint “en old
friend, a3

When he rose to go she urged him to remain snagme
with them. This he declined doing, upon te ple. nL
engagement with his friend, but promised to come the
following day. z

“How long are you to remain ?”’ she asked.

“lam mot certain,’ hereplied. ‘tl came a
creation, and have no definite plans exceptto be
within two weeks, t year 1 was an tdler; now lam

lth

 
 
   
  

   

  
  
  
 
 
  

re a. 7

“Because father will come home, and { shall know if he’
has kept his pledge. } can teil by his step. “We must
have a nice supper for him—be sure, woul you, graud-
mother ?”?

“Certainly, dear. There shall be a nice supper for us
all,’ was the cheerful answer,

Not Miss Nelson, but Mr, Putnam, visited the blind girl
that day. She was glad to see hin, and, like a child, ex-
pressed her pleasure. It was he who had influenced her
father to join the Goud Templars, The physician who had
examined her eyes was his intimate friend, and no one
could have manifested more interest in the proposed ope-
ration which was to give her sight.

Minnie Welch couid not buly :

     
 
 
 
  
        
  
 

    

curiosity batural to the blinths ad ) her
grandmother in regard to the 4 of actor.
She was ina flutter of childish exgiement pleusure
1e sal down beside her. |

@ jie sai@, after encour-
urd Wher fatber. § to know
OK. Grandinother has trie Hine, but

& I know just how Miss sun lovks,??

know ILALP" asked Mu. Petniah. || |

ime pit Urem on ter face.”

.? he responded) Ta her
ug them to lis, face,
hose, chig anc hips,
other Wahdered -trougit his
Wand dyer bis silky beard.
of in. my mind,” she said,

metume, EL hope, I

 
 
 
 

 

shall see youl”? j
“I hope so,’? he replied. “I came to talkoftuat. Dr.
Ward thinks it will be better for you to go to Mis. Nel-

son’s belore the operation upon your eyes,”

“But how can lleave father and grandmother? she
exclaimed, :

*We will see (ia they are well cared for, was the an-
swer. ‘Duley call visit you, too, at any time’?

‘But 1 cau never 9 Vien,” objected Minnie,

“Your father can attend to that by and by, if there is
anyliung to be pad. Lt will be so much beiter for you, I
hope you will cousent. In a few weeks you Cau come
back well and happy.’! ‘
‘The blind girl was averse to this arrangement, One —
reason weighed strongly—the fear of being esome -
to the kind Jrievds Whe had so generoust

 

thought would be a great expense,

Bul all her objections were overruled when Mra, Nelson. -
herself came in, atid insisted that she should beéome her
guest. ‘We will tuke good care of you,” said the kind-
hearted womam , . leg rnd

“I know you will,?? replied Minnie; “but) I can’ never
pay you for all your trouble.”? ( ay @ %,

“We Wil talk of that when you can BE. I am dure your
grandmother will consent to spare pou. 5

her more than ;

“Yes,” said the old Indy. . “I shalluniss
you can think; but it will be for tne best.”

Mr. Welch had been previously consulted, and although
sorry to lose Minnie from hiy poor home, he felt that the
physician had # right to dictate his own terms,

One who had seen Alston Welch three weeks before,
would hardly recognize him now. Having been driven
to work by the maddening thirst for liquor, die had ac-

 

lawzstudent, and must govern myself accordingly.) ©

Mr. Nelson wished Luuis Buwker had not come to hi
house; but having come, he must be treated courieo
and, truth to tell, the next day inuch of his prejudice was
removed by the faultless muuners and jutelligent conve
sation of the young man,
_ Oratr was, as usual, affable and entertaining; but noth-
ing indicated auy marked partiality for tieir guest. Her
older brothers, Knowing ol her danger and rescue the pre-
Vious summer, had been naturally curious to see Mr.
Bowker. William, met him cordially; while Sam, mind-
ful of civilities he had‘ himself received was still imore
demoustratives

Dinuer passed pleasantly, No shadow rested upon this
home, guarded as it was, by Christian love. In some re-
speCcis iess elegant thau his own, it seemed to Louis Bow-
ker for niore ike what a home should be,

Mr. Nelson assured him of a welcome, at any time; ana
he left, resoived tu tuke advantage of the assurance. He

 
 
   
  

~

cepted the first which offered. The remtQueraiion was
small, but endugh to purchase the means of intoxication.
He was hurrying to a wretched cellar, when a child
clutched his coat aud begged for bread.

“We are slarving—mother,,and Jounny, and I!’ she
cried.

Her gaunt figure and pinched, hungry face attested to
the truth of this story. Mr. Welch iuvoluntarily put his
band in his pocket aud drew forth a few pennies,

“This will buy bread,’? he said. it at the
baker's.”’ j i
“Please go and buy if,’’ she rep!
coat, ‘It’s ouly round the corner,
It scemed strange that sie shot
but he could uot find itijn his heart to deny her.

the corner they went, Here one targe louf was pur-
chased, which the child received with so many thanks
that another was added.

 
 
 
 

 

felt that he had gaived much, aud fancied that he might
reasonably look Jorward to au seam intapee which should
uid hint in winnmg the band of the daughter, ~ Hewished
to establish friendly ions with the family, and having
already Laken the first step, was inctined to-hopefuiness,

llis friend rallied him npon nis long absence.

“1 thought yesterday that Orah was the attraction. To-
day Lam sure of 1,” he said. “But mind you, Bo
you must forswear the whole list of exhi be
can hope for favor there. That is, if th
consistent. The whole family are enthasi
Tempiars. Orah, herself, has induced some
join the lodge, Whe would never dave. ;
her.’ : ee ee ok

“It isn’t a bad idea for some young men,” rep!
Bowker. ye: ee ee ; se
“Thatsa fact. A great many y }
quaintince are in danger of bec
Wouldu’t own it to any of these tem
will do to say Ht here. 1 am astonished /
tion. ‘There was Howe and Jennings, as good fellows as |
there were iu the class, now no more nor lessthan drunk-
ards. Then there is Fielding. Nothing keeps him up but

 
 
   
   
     
      
   
   
   
    
   
     
     
        
   

 

 

  
 
  
  
 
    

THE TEST OF PRINCIPLE
By Mary Dwinell Chellis.

(“Orah Nelson” was commenced in No. 27._ Back numbers can
be obtained ot any News Agent iu the United States.]}

 

 

This rare exhibition of feeling produced a great effect.
Guy was moved to tears, aud throwing his arms uroupd
his brother’s neck, sobbed convulsively. “I wish to be a
noble man,” he murmured at lengws. ‘I will try to do as
you say. Don’t teil mother and Fioreuce that I was
drunk. It seems so dreadful, and Inever thought I could
be so bad. O Louis, you nust-not let me be so again.”
«A tap atthe dvor, and Mrs. Lathrop asked to be ad-
mitted. ; ;

“Directly,” ansivered the elder son, while Guy en-
deayored to remove all traces of tears from his face.
Then, the door was opengd with a cheerful good morning.
“Good morning,’ she ‘replied, passing in and goiug to
the bed, ‘Howare you, my son?’ sue asked, kissing her
darling. ;

“Better,’) he answered, returning the caress. “I shall
be quite well when up and dressed. Louis can tell you
there is nothing serious the matter, I slept well all night.”
“And f{ could not sleep for thinking of you. Are you
quite sure that you are as well as usual ?””

“Quite sure, dear mother. I have something of a head-
-ache, and perhaps, shall not be down very early this
moruing.”!

“What shall I bring you?

“Nothing.”

“Bus lam afraid you need something.”

“You are mistaken, mother. He needs nothing at all,”
said Louis Bowker. “I am inclined to think there has
been too much dosi in Guy’s case. Next summer I
shall take him to Mrs. Truman’s, to try the effect of
country air aud country living. Uutil then, I have some
idea of seiting up my authority to prevent any further
tampering With nostrums or stimulants.” — - :

Mis. Lathrop was at a less to understand this; but her
attention had been diverted from Guy, and this, the
speaker’s object accomplished. She soon, however, re-
ferred to the occurrence vi the last evening; but a warn-
ing gesture from Louis prevented the subject being
pursued. She went out relieved, yet not satisfied.

The father was troubled; yet, by no means willing tore-
gard Guy’s condition in the same light as his step-son. It
was absurd to suppose that such a boy was in danger of

“But Guy is sixteen; aud there are many no older than
he who have entirely ruined themselves,” was the reply.

“And would you Class my boy with them??? asked the
lawyer, sharply.

“No, | would not, I only fearthat he may class himself
with them. Ihave long thonght that Guy should have
different treatment; aud I honestly believe that the nos-
trums aud stimulants with which he has been drugged,
are one cause of his ill health.. I wish——"

“Louis, do you sei, your juagment above that of Dr.
Campbeil?” interrapted. Mr, Lathrop, You are need-
an alarmed,” he added. “I will talk with Guy, my-
self.”? > ;

No good could come of longer discussion, and it was
reluctantly abandoned,

Guy did not come from his room until very late; and he
Was then so weak and really ill, that his mother insisted
upon the usual remedies. At first he declined, yet was
easily persuaded, and the much needed reform, delayed.
At dinuer, his brothers eye being upon him, he refused
the wine. :

- But Louis was not easily deceived. Only a few days
passed, when he knew that his advice had produced little
or no effect. The only hope wasin getting the boy away
from his family, aud this could bot be done until summer.
His presence acted as a Slight restraint; and sometimes a
word gently spoken prevented excessive indulgence.
pbell, unwiliipg to lose favor with a family
iship he had so long enjoyed, neglected to

pee be
-eircumstances, Mr. Bowker could not find
art to leave home, although-the desire to see
ison Was 80 strong as not to be easily resisted.
His devotion to study coutinued. His past idie life was
superseded by one of close application.
h the early spring, yielding tothe importunities of his
classmate, and reaily feeling the need of reluxation, he
indulged himself in a long-anticipated pleasure. :

Orah Nelson was, one day, surprised by his presenee;
and in her surprise betrayed an emotion she would gladly
have conceded.

He siniled triumphantly, yet only fora moment. She
commanded herself, and while giving him a cordial recep-
tion left no room for presuming upon past associations.~

She was a queenly girl here in her own home; not Deb-
by Nelson, whom Aunt Becky could scvld at pleasure, but
oue to whom all yielded involuntary respect.

Did Louis Bowker love her leas for this reticence and

  
  
 
   

  

         

 

 

life, thinking that his fall had been caused by the. latter’s

doing several times a week, on his uncle.

 
 
  
   
  

       

4 seen enough in that time to convince me that wine drink-

would have been in the gutter before now. Better never
ustie of wine than make suciva fool of one’s self.”

 
  

  

“Certainly; = I sometimes wish
owd be buuis from the apaigt circle, . That weuld be
iriktug al the root of the watler,and prevendall trouble.
Tuere Sis bul few whe would ee ;
OYery few, was Me Teply.! _+Niowory VES, aT Gee
ppetite has been acquired iu the Company of oturrs, AL
ter all, there is a great deal of truth in what these temper-
ance people say. I don’t agree with thei in every thing,
and I think they carry the matter too far; but-they are on
the safe side”?
“True,” responded Louls Bowker. ‘And it must be
confessed that many others are on the unsafe side. I
never thought much about it until within a year; but I’ve

  
 
  
 
  
 
  

  

 

ing ic a curse to many houses,’?
“Thavs what it js,” responded his friend. “I don’t
wonder tiatsome of our best men and women have be-
come fanatical on the sabject of temperance.”
“Nor dol. There is good reason for being fanatical.”
“One would think you almost a conyert.”?
“Perhaps, alinost, .yet not quile,. I still believe that
all good things may be used in moderation; aud a dinner
party, without wine, would be a stupid affair.”
“You had no wine at dinner to-day, Bowker.’
“No,” answered the genllemin,
“And was the diuner stupid ?”? if
“J didn’t fiud it so,’? was the reply.
“J presume not. But I guess [ have falked temperance
enough for one evening. Idon’t wish to tire you with
my prosing; but the fact is, there is a good deal of agita-
tion ou the subject just now. There I’ll stop before I go,
any further. .We will have some wine,’ or champagne
and as we drink tatk of old times.’
“None for me us evening. I don’t think I should
appreciate it,” said Louis Bowker, with a laugh.
From this their conversation drifted back into the same
channel, aud at inidnight the gentlemen were discussing
the subject of temperance with great animation,
“Well, wow, just tell me one thing. If you were setting
up au establisiument for yourself, would you have wine
upon your table ??~ wot
Mr. Bowker paused a moment before replying.
“Yes, L should,” he said, atlength. ‘lam not yet pre-
pared to set myself up as wiser than our fathers. What
should you do, Ord way-?’? ¢ ; r3
“Use the wine if I néver expected any children to sit at
my table.’? : eS
This was the last before exchanging good nights. The
visitor was glad to -be left alone. Tne.suggestions of his
friend would have stimulated thonght- without any other
exciting cause. With all that pressed upon him, he
could not cbmposeliimself to sleep. A s
In the morning it was his intention to call upon Orah
Nelson, but, a jtelegram was received, announcing the
sudden and Severe iflness of his brother. He tinst Jeave
in an hour or- wait ‘until. the following day. . Desirous. of
reaching foie at the earlfest possible moment, lis reso-
lution was,quickly taken. at (Pete? «
He could not go without calling again’at’ Mr. Nelson's.
llere he saw only Orah. Affable and self possessed, she
was receiving his adieu, When, with a sudden impulse, he
threw his arms.around her, pressed her to his heart, and
covered ler face with Kisses. Not a word of explanation
or apology followed. . : woes weer €.,
“We sliall ‘meet again,» he said, when standing upon:
the threshold of the door, aud then was gone before she
had recoveréd from Ner surprise. 132 DOTY
She bowed her head upon her hands, praying that she
might have strepgtli to walk straight, on imthe path of

duty, -—_——
oon GHAPTER, VL) «5

“How bright it is Losey said a beautiful girl, seated
in a small room, Which waS flooded owith the light ofa
winter's sun. “It is so pleasant, and Iam so happy.
Only think, dear grandmother, bsbal See again, and then
T can do anything for you.”

lt was Minnie Weich! Whosaid this, foramoment laying
aside her work. ‘Oh, 1 don’t mind the pain,’ she added.
“The doctor asketif I coult bear it, "He little knows how
Efeel. Ob, grandmother, sha'n’t you be so glad?” —

“Yes, darling, but [ think of the pain,.. lewish I could
bear it for you.”? © rata ee

~ J] don’t wistyso,”’ responded Minnie. ‘*You have borne
enough, and [dm not going to think of it” Mr. Putnam
says | must Ook beyond the pain, and so Ido. Every-
thing good comes this winter, and I thought it would be
the most dreadful winter ofall ae iy
Mrs. Weisit | at her-granddanghiter with~affec-

tionate admiration, Beautiful at all times and under,all
circumstances, now that her fdee was. lighted-up-with
hope, it was wondrously attractive, _ :

Ail nnconscious 6f herbeduty, thinking dnty_of the time
when she should see, Minnie talked on, gladly and freely
as a bird sings. cOccasionally iheograndmother made
some reply, yet the child scarcely heeded whether she did’
or no. yi pre Bist) H oyf-vi n

“I do hope Miss Nelson will come to-day,’* she said, at
length. ‘How goedshe was. to invite me.to come-to her
house and stay till my eyes are weil.”

“She was good, and Iam almost sorry you are not will-

 

money, and the posiuon of his fantily. 1fhe was poor, he |

tall this'drinking |

‘}gince he came to the cily.

“Oh, mother and Jounny will be so gladt’ exclaimed
the ciild. “You're such a good mant | guess you've
gota dite girl at rome, anedshe ain't ever hungry.”

“Was she ever hungry?’ he asked limsell, standin:
there by the counter, looking at the long lows of pies au
heaps of cakes,

How much his mother and Minnie would enjoy some of
1 Lthings! If he only had money enough he would
val; but he must gratify his);own uppetite
e liesifated,
mt anything more ?”? asked the boy, Who had
further orders. »*
ealvuaf of bread and as many cakes as

pointing to the cakes he desired,
given him, and with a glow of honest pleas

the ae.

t he realized what he had done. His thirst ,

: le, and his brain fairly reeled “with “the-
AX Without

it, he could only go home. When he

ached the alley, he paused to think if he could not ex-
change the bread und cakes for hquor. .
As lie stood there, a weil-dressed gentleman approached
him with asimileulid @ourteous salutation, i:
bean out, giving invitauons,’’ he said, as Mr. Weich

garde yy Wilh surpris®e ye +

oan iene to ee withaut'a tho ‘
‘The quests W AWW a eer

; P vos tha +< ee eo
invitations, 10 our lodge, ening; and we all like to
spend them pleasantly. Have you a miud to join us?”
The wretched» mun lovked down upon his soiled and
grimy hands—upon lis old and patched garments,

“You have been at work to-day,’’ coulinued the stran-
ger.

“Yes; I have been shoveling coal.
one can’t always choose.”

“AM work is honorable, if well done. I see you are
carrying home something to your family. A man witha
family has a powerful incentive to work.’’

“Yes,” was the lesiluling reply. ‘Some find the right
kind of work, and then it is easy,’’

“} hope thatis the case with you.’?

“Not often in these days. Once | could choose my work;
but now everything is diiferent.

“We areall liable to misfortunes, and must make the
best of them,’ suid the gentleman. ‘Perhaps 1 might
assist you to obtain employment, if I knew what you
would like to do,’?

No. one had before’ spoken to Alsfon Welch like this
No one, except bis mother and
Child, had manifested any interest in his welfare. Here
“was an entire stranger speaking like a friend. What
could i¢ mean? Heasked the question, and it Was-an-
swered. :

“] wish to give a helping hand: to tise who need it,’’
said his companion. “Something made me think that
you needed assistance, Ant | mistaken?’ 2
“No,” auswered Mr. Welch, unable to withstand the
tone and manner of tlie. mun who thus addressed him. ‘‘I
need help bad enough.”* me
“And, if Lread you right, your worst.tronble is with an
appetite for intoxicating drink.”

“How do you kuow that 2?

The drunkard was sensilive upon this point, and spoke
sharply.

“know it by your looks,’’ was the ecalmreply. “I
know, tuo, that you were made for somethmg better than
to waste your life in dissipation,‘ Do nut be b ded, my
fridid, because 1 speak plainly, 1 haye seen too mapy in
your condition not.to Daverstahd the tronble.  ‘Trast me,
and I will do you good. But lam keeping you from your
family. Lb ought notrto do that, yeu d am) sorry fo leave
you. Are you willing to see me again ??

“J dou’t know as ’\would be of any use, replied Mr.
Welch; and then, upon second thought, added, “I ought
to do better, but it’s hard taking back {racks.; I have a.
good mother aud @ good daughter,
but she loves.me, bud as Taam,’ .

“Are you tlre father of Minnie Welch?” an

“Yes, But what do.jyou know of her??? |... ;

“] have just called upon-tier. Miss Nelson, who has seen
her-several times, asked, me to cull. . We shall try and
have an operation performed upeb her-eyes, if-yon are
willing.” . -

“T can take Gare of my daughter myself,t the father
was about to say; but suddenly remembering that he had
not taken-curvelo£ ber,Jiis dips’ were! iciosedy “Titis opera-
tion might have been performed before, and yet, he Was
inclined to be angry that another’shouid; interfere im the
mnatter,

Loyd Putnam, for, he it was”
derstood this without Being to

    

Dirty work; but

ad in’ words. 1
the face betrayed it. - a ‘

“Miss Nelson is greatly interested in- your: .d liter,
andas your:mother said yon oo diate in the city,
she thought, you might not Know what physician it would
be best to cousult) Dr. Ward, a skilled oculist, is -aminti-
mate friend of mine, and | shail be very glad } ake
arrangements with him to see your daughter, if lave
no objection to my so doing.”

A

a
’

y-assisied her, .
She was unwilling to increase im the least dégree what she! )

a

r,? he’ replied, throwing down his eutire 2 — | —

“Poor Minnie is blind; ”

O TRneSLreibs PARMR) Sc
e e

pressure Of the discolored lipsyand.the deeper flushingof  « 4

e+e ae Qoeelt Uae 4 FuUNVsi ts ghee 4

habits,

‘My friend, cau wa
that point, if-you™
daughter.”

 

ing togo. Perhaps the doctor will insist upon it even

now. If he does, you-must, go,’ ar ae :
“] hope he won't. Ishouldn’t like to leave you and

father, Father needs me so much, now.”
“Well, child, we shall see,*? replied the old lady. “I

should miss yon, and so should your father; but if it is

best, we can bear it.” F :
After a short silence, Minnie exclaimed:
“T wish-it was night!

ineeting.”

to that.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Then the sun wouldn’t shine brightiy as it dees now.

 

womanly prider Nay, these were but added charms, He

Why do you wish 60?’

“Fo be sure it bus,

restore her sight): Butt! a T
beautiful girl was left to grope her way in darkness,
“JT am willing a physicial shoukhees” Yen! aa: aeod asi |
have money to pay the fee. Just now, 1 am out of funds,”
réplied the drunkard,,, Th pei nt 3
As if everybody who Ss:

“That will make no differém
Bona fees, . I

What could Alston Welch say? He real!

and had often resolved that an effort should

‘Minnie,
be made to

1e Fight thoé! Dever) came, so the

er

Cenly consent to his™

invite people to join us.”
“But Lam 7 —

asked Alston Welch. : :
“J often ask strangers,’’ was) the évasiver reply. Our 9 poop

lodge mpstings furnish good opportunity for making ac-

quaintances} add you wouk! sdon / Bs

you are willing, I will propose your namé a our next

t r r oe ae = .
“He can see her, if mother thinks westrr
“] have already consuited her, so the matter js settled,”
responded Mr Patuam.
first business. We are tryin

“Nol 1
to increase the number of
Good Templars in our city, and it is a part of my duty to

Why should youcineitéd mie yo}

Tq Hot

ttm centoent! echt ce .
aw him would not knowthis; and
know also that it was a condition in which ke w be
likely to remain, unless there Was seme change in ‘his

HS Eee ene 274% 7“
¢e,’> said His’ companion.
will make all right on.

seeing -your

urust go “back to say

feel quite, ‘

“It has something to do with temperate, hasn't it?
That ig the best part of it.
pledge is just What every man needs, You couldn’t object

Our

“] don’t knowabout that,” answered Mr. Welch, coldly
“J couldn't tell until 1 know what it is."

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Bey

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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DY ddhead ‘es
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aa reas ts r
|. cease THE NEW YORK WEEKLY. =~ 9 3_

 

“Let me tell you. [ have heard itso many times that
it iS at my tougue’s end.”?

Mr. Putnam repeated the pledge, adding, '‘A man who
keeps that is pretty sure to be hi the right way,”?

“Yes, | suppose le 18; but ’twould take me some time
to maké up my mind toi?

“It would! 1 tovk it wilhouta moments consideration,
and have been the happier foritever since. But you can
have time to think of it. If Ipropose your name to the
Lodge, you will not be obliged to join unless yuu choose.
Vu not detain you any losger. 1 shall call to see your
daughter in the moruing, and then we can talk more of
this, if you are at home. I think, too, that 1 shoulddike
to engage your services for a few duys. I um needhig a
little extra help just now.’?

As Loyd Putuau said this, he. bowed politely and
Walked on. ‘rhe loungers stauding around had watched
this interview with much curiosity, Oue or two knew
the gentleinan and suspected his object; but their new
neighbor eid himself sv aloof froin general intercourse,
that they Gid not address him,

Every one m the aliey had heard of his’ blind daugh-
ter, and many Jad caught a glimpse of her beautiful face,
The chiktren told marvelous stories in regard lo her. To
them she was wlinost an angel. The women loved her,
every mother’s heart being stirred with Sympatiiy.

Mr, Welch passed up the rickety stairs, and through the
Narrow passage, Which Jed to lis home,

“O, filer, L am gladyou have come,” cried Minnie.
“There ims been a gentieman here to see you, and he says
he will send a doctor, 19 look at my eyes. He thinks |
Shall see again, aid then 1 can work Jor you and grand-
motiier.”*

She would not have presumed to say this had she not
known, trom his step, that her father,,.wus sober. She
would have throwu her arms about him, but he put her
from him’geéntly. © ‘

“Lhagetvuen shoveling coal, my child,;and amnot fit to
be toucued.. Wait unui ihave washed.”?

“Tdouwt mind about the dirt if 1 can only have you near
me. But} can wait. Why, father, you ‘have brought us
something,” she added, hiving ber hand upea the paper
of cakes he lid /brougutin. “We shall hayea@ nice sup-
per now,’? aT, li

“1 didn’t bring much,*’ he replied, ‘Bat I paid out all
the money I earned to-day, except the cost of Lwo loaves
of bread gave to a lrungry child.”

“And did you give Lwo Joaves of bread to a hungry
child?”

*“*¥es, Minnie, I did. Perhaps I ought to have brought
them home to you and mother, but the little girl seemed

almost starving.”

“Tam giad you did, father. It is dreadful to be hungry,
and then it’s So mach more blessed to give than to receive.
Lalways feel so happy when Iean give away anything.
But.idon’t have mucu to give,’ she added, with a sigi.
“When I can see to work T shail have more.”

Mrs. Weich was careiul not to iterrupt this conversa-
tion, while she busied herself in preparing supper. She
Was a careful housewife, who made the best of what was
pepe aud the three soon sat down to a neatly spread
table.

Minnie was too happs toeat much, although everything
Was ‘‘so nice.’”’ Her father ate and drunk with evident
relish, quite exhausting lis mother’s supply of tea, while
Slie, good woman, couteuted herself with one cup of the
comlorting beverage.

It was not often that Alston Welch spent an evening
at home; but now, with neither money nor credit, it was
useless to go elsewhere. Moreover, he could not forget
What. had m said to him. He was thinking of the

ledge, and of all the benefits which might follow should
1e@ become a Good Templar. His friends and relatives
had often urged him to join seme temperance organiza-
tion, but he had as often refused. He would not be
bound by pledges. They were foolish and childish, A
man could control himself, without siguing away his
liberty.

Such wonderful liberty as is signed away with the pledge
Of total abstinence! Siranger, that man who thus talks
should think it &@ privilege to reserve the rigut of becom-
ing drauukards! Mr. Welch had enjoyed this mght for
many.years. He hid tasted all the pleasures which could
be foundin begyaring himseifand family. He had made
liimself an abject slave to Ure most debasing appetite.
Shouid he now resigu the Jiberty to do this, longer?

Oh, he was go thirsty! The room seemed culd. He
shivered, and his feet fairly chattered,

“Cun’t we have a better fire?’ he asked,

“There js only a simall pau of coal,’ was his mother’s
Teh '

“No wood ???
»“Ouly aiew pieces with the shavings Sally Burns
brought us this merning.?

“Wit are you goiug to do to-morrow? You will freeze
Without a fire.” ,

“I don’t know what we will do, my son. The Lord will
provide if we trust Him, and do the best we can.’

“O, mother, what a wretch | hays been!’ cried the un-
happy man. “IL have brought you tothis by iny accursed
love for drink, To-day I should have spent avhat 1 earn-
ed insome miserable cellar, if it hadu’t been for that
child which begged for bread.’ :
(fO BE CONTINUED.)

KANSAS KIT.

By John F, Cowan,

[Kansas Kit” was commetced in No, 24...Back numbers can
de obtained trom any News Agent in the United States.]

CHAPTER XXVIIL

TWIXT SKY AND WATER—A STRANGE SUPPORT—THROWN
SKY HIGH.

Kansas Kit, in his fall iuto the sounding cataract, tried
instiuctively to throw himself toward the up stream, soas
to grasp the edge of the rock away from tue verge uf the
fall. He was in part successful, fur he fell into the water
on the upper side of tie rock on. which te had lately
stood, and grasped the edge to try and regain his position
once inore. He was net so fortunate as at first, for his
hands were weakened and benumbed, his whole body
was chilled by the rushing waters, and that feeling of

less resignation which comes over one when hope
departs fell upon him. Not even the nearness of the
death plunge could arouse him to the powerlul effort
necessary to lengtven his life.

What ditfereuce was it for a few minutes or a few hours
of misery. The cataract was calling him to follow his
victim to the green shadows below, aud the very rock
seemed to shake his slipping fingers from their slimy hold,

At last the hungry torrent prevails. His weakened
fingers gradually, gradually straighten out—they slide
from tlie last touch of the protecting rock and ite is swept
toward the glass-like edge of the precipice where even tle
wild waters foaming froin the rapids became for an in-
stant silent aud solemn in view of the great leap before
them,

One gasp of suffocation—one soul-felt silent appeal to
the Higher Power and he passes over the dreadful brink
to destruction, :

But nol. His rapid course is stopped with a sudden
jerk, and heis held in thesolid pouring water on the verge
in terrible suspension between sky and water—between
life and death,

Hope brings back thought. He finds that the rifle
slung at his back has got wedged crosswise between two
rocks, and he is held from immediate death by the stout
leathern sling which passes around his body anu under
one arin.

This is a precarious hold. Just on the edge where he
has been stopped the water is more shaliow and smooth
gliding, and he can manage to keep his head in breathing
position, but the current is swift and sirong, and he feels,
or imagines he feels the gun that supports him spring and
bend uuder the pressure. Good heavens! if the stock
should give way, if the strap stiould break! Better have
Swept to death at once than stand this toriure of doubt.

He got lus otherarm through the gun strap with great
difficulty, and felt firmer in his position, but the fear of
the stay giving way and letting him drop into the mists
below—more horrible when seen from his present position
—haunted him.

The time pas-ed terribly siow, and he felt as if age were grow-
ingon him in strides of years. The birds began to circle around
his head cluser and closer, as if he were a familiar object of long
ago, and their carrion croak, added to the dull thunder of the
falling waters, hud a maddening effect upon his brain.

Gn time—how long he kuew not—the roar of the fall seemed to
take a rougher, more clattering sound—and the birds’ voices be-
came strangely harmonized—echoipng in his ears like the talking
ot distant men; but he took it fora delusion, and did not en-
deavor to arouse himself from the approaching stupor until wild
cries and the calling of his name caused him to turn his eyes to-
ward the nearest bank, and joy and hope shot like sanshine into
his heart as he saw 3 bandol mounted white men, and recog-
nized the uever-to-be-forgotten voice and form ot Corduroy Mike.

“Oh, Kit, asthore,”’ roared Mike, “*whatin the name ot woud-
her took ye out Lliere Y”

Kit tried to call back, but. his voice was weak and hoarse, and
the sound of the falldrowned it. Mike andthe other men on
shore immediately began operations for his release,

A tall tree stuod on the bank at a short distance above the fall.
They caugit the lea of felling this so that it would fall across
that portion of the cataract rushing between their imperiled
comrade and the shore. No sooner conceived than the execu-
tion was commenced. Many of them were armed with hatchets
in addition to their firearms, and they dismounted and com-
menced the “girdling” of the big tree like Agron of beavers. A
hatchet is too light a weapon for chopping, however, and as the
tree trunk was Of large givth their progress was very slow not-
withstanding their numbers and earnestness.

Slowiy—very slowly indeed—the “‘scart”’ in the trunk widened
and deepened, and every moment of the sturdy wood’s resistance
Was a moment of horrid auxiety to the endangered mau as weil,
as his struggling friends,

At length the men on the land side cease chopping, and those
on the water side worked away harder than ever to give the fall
the proper direction, and betore long the anxious watchers see
the topmost twigs begin to wave and shiver, and then the great
on ok in all its bulk as if. with the pains of approaching

eath.

But even inthis moment so anxiously wished for a horrible
thought seized him. What if that lotty tree meant as a bridge of
salvation for their friend should be too stout for the watery space,
and by sweeping clear of the rocks that now supported hin, be
useless to effect their Darron: :

It was too late now, The tree had already left its perpendicu-
lar, and all the powers of man could not prevent its fall, Down
it swept in a graceful arc—siowly and silently at first, but with
rapidly increasing motion, and a swish of the resisting air, until
it fell with a terrible crash in the rapids, splashing the turbulent
waters fifty feet high, and causing water, earth and air to
tremble as if from the shock of an earthquake,

The hearts of the men scarcety beat as they saw the great log,
after a moment’s pause, reel to the influence of the resistless tor-

~ Tent, and whirl away through the white foaming waters, tossing
its dark branches aloft like a monster with a hundred arms but-
feting for life.

Gorduroy Mike and hiscomrades ran along the bank, filled
with anxiety, for the crashing which accompanied the rolling of
the tree did not, they thought, come altogether from the smash-
ing of the branches, but was caused in part by the rending away
of obstacles in the river bed, and thelr fear for the safety of Kan.
sas Kit increased,

 

 

 

 

 

‘him.

Not long had they to wait forthe dreadful crisis. The rolling
tree neared the watery precipice. The wedge pointed trunk
caught in the bankside, and the branched top swung swiftly
around toward the rocks in the center, with a crashing and tear-
ing ihat were terrible to the man whose salvaion or destruction
was it) question.

Wouid it sweep away his support or not ?

With a crash and a tremble it strikes against the obstructions,
Glory! Its speed ls stayed—it setlies—it has bridged the chasm
at the very brink!

The joytul cheer of the men ‘on the shore tells Kansas Kit the
success Of this strange prece of engineering, anU opening his eyes,
which he had closed in the thought of Ns nt he sees
the branches projecting above! his head; but welcome as the
sight is, his precarious position hinders him from endeavering to
reach them. Hir situation 1s im fict more dangerous than before,
for the water pa dy shut uffirom its usual Channel by the tree
trugk rushes m< re deeply anidaiercery through the other chan-
nefs yet open, iucluding the narrow strait in whieh he hangs,

But Corduroy Mike; Catelring the lrelplessness of the position of
his brave trend ataoyhauices threw bis rifle on the ground, and
seizing a hatchet started baldly to the rescue across the new
formed bridge. “Tttrembled beneath fis feetwith the thundering
endeavor of the waters to sweep it awey, aud €ven without the
trembling it was‘ a dizzy causeway, with the steaming cauldron
beneuth wid the while, tohring rapids‘above.

The trank was broad and soon crossed, and the:stout frontiers-
man in a few moments scrambied apd hacked his way through
the stumps of the broken branches on the upper poriuon of the
tree, and leaned over to step ou the branches thatlay on the first
of the verge islands between which Kansas Kit was suspended.
The triumph and jey that filled his big warin ‘heart were already
wording themselves into cueery phrases for his triend’s ear when
a loud roar from the men on the bank thrilled beth his heart and
Kits.
“Quickt quick! Mike! For the lord’ssakel” they cried, wildly.
“The water is rising—the shore end is shifting over!”

The Lrave fellow cast a look to the rapids and back over the
bridge on which he had come. The water hindered by the tree
truuk had indeed risen aud was dushing over tbe obstruction in
different spots in great angry splashes, It was the pressure of
the increased volume that was shilting the shore end toward the
tatal brink. The men on shore tricd frantically but vainly to
Stay 18 progress,

Mike heard Kit ealling to him wildly to save himself and leave
him to listate. He felt the tree beginuing fo shake asit swung
to the dreadful plunge, und he tried to reach the jittle rock in
hopes,that he might cling to it and save himself iromothe sweep
of the falling tree. : tien

In vain. The trunk was pivotted on some point of rock jn the
center. The butt swung out over the abyss, the top wesley Ber
ward over the boiling rapids with poor Mike clinging witha
death grip to its branches. A horrified cry burst from the men
on the bank, and it wus faintly echoed Ly Kit, fer he guessed,
althougii he could not see the Cause. L

The tree balanced for an instant as if it was itself afraid of the
dreadful leap to which 1t was bearing a humau creature, then,
with a grand inotiou the butt began slowly to sink, aud tke tup
with its living tenant rose graduaily skyward uutil the overbal-
ance became tuo great, and with the speed of a giant javelin it
shot into the steaming guilt, The base pierced the water below
and the head pitching down stream struck the rapid river with a
deafening crash that shook phe shores. ‘

But what was the dark object whirling through the air that
caught the -horror-fixed eyesot the meh? It was not a piece of
rock or a portion of thetree. It was a human form, flyiug lise an
acrobat shot from a spriug-bourU—the form ot Cordurey Mike.

Heels over head it went in its air-arched flight hke a monster
sheil sliot froin a columbiad, and they watched its course with
fear and wonder, Would the unfortunate manu be precipitated
into the rushing stream below or dashed to pieces ou the solid
land ?

it was a strange sight—one at which a person of devilish nature
might have laughed—but ic was too trightsume for some of the
ruugh men to even foox at. Down, down it went toward the
land uosil it was suddenly hidden by a clump of shrubbery or
low wood on the bank beluw the falls,

| (CHAPTER XXIX,
A RISEY ROAD TO SAFETY—THE BROKEN ROPE—A FRIGHTFUL
FALL.

Instantly a portion of the men hastened away to find the
mungled corpse, and the others quickly turned their etteption
to the almost fiopeless tusk of rescuing Kausas Kit. from his per-
flous position. AuxXivusly they scauned the difficulties to be
overcome frum every point of view, but saw no clance, tor there
Were Nu More Lrees Lo tell,

They heard @ signal irom over the very roar of the cataract
itsell. It was aWeil-kKnown one—a shrill whistle frequently
used in hunting whet the person tor whose ear.it was inteuded
Was too fur away to be reached by the yuice. It was Kansas Kit
sigualing trom tus perilous percl, ‘

They hastened to where they could see him. The thought of
him taking interest in his own rescue gave them hupe, for they
had great dependence it his tertility of idea, .

As 8v0n us lie suw be had attracted their attention, he raised
his arm caretully and waved it with a@ sweep, asift throwing
something. .
~ “A lussol a lasso!” they cried, recognizing the action; but be-
wilderment seized -upon thet, for they could not imagiue to
What use he wislied tie lasso put.” ”

They thought that despair or craziness had so seized upon him
thut tie wished them to strangle him rather than leave him ‘to
slow, torturing death or tie horrid plunge iuto the vortex. Atter
I debate they whistled vo him for insirucfions, and he poiuted
to the

4

ilar-like rock that pr jected above the water beyond
ith cries ot uppreciution the men ran to their saddles,
atid in & moment thrée or toar wereon the bank, lasso in hand,
each auxivusly awaiting Lis chance im this game of life, where
the case was made witivaniustrument of death,

The first nau Carer und the jiue spun out like a spiral wire—
missed and droppeu to tlie abyss like a ing line,
. The second man took his place, paused, ured the distance,
braced hiniselt, wad hurled the latetul ee 1G HO00Se fell grace-
lully over the rock between them and Kigvaud, not belug withiu
his reach, WuS useless. However, the owner of the jime held ius
jyas_ most careful in his
iis lasso and his poise of
novs: descended 1 upidly,

eud,

The third man stepped forward.
choice of ground—the Seni
aim, Tne durk dine eicled out,

others caught sight of Kausas Kits dru, waving warmangly, au
at the same dnument the miau’s @ra was struckturward by a
powertul biow, " <a eM aad

He turned with a curse on his fips, but suppressed It, and joined
in the cry oO: asWnisilment uitered by the other ab the sixtt of
Corduroy M.ke, with tern clothes, aud ‘sickly, pule face marked
with bars of olood. ig

“Excuse me tor using the Comaulyeen on you, Sam.’ said Mike,
in 4 gaspiug, Dreauiless Mauuer, “But it was ho lime for coim-
plimenuts. if you had ever given that tustening chuck, where
would poor Kit have been, dye he

He pointed as he-spoke, and they saw that the lariat noose had
actually faullenand fastened around the Scolit’s body, aud tas
the “chuck” spuken of Oy Mike would undoubtedly fiaye pulled
nim from his position, and,“chucked” him into the pit from
which they strove te save jin.

“Let me have « tirow,” suid Mike, taking a lasso. “It’s only
right I should jake @ hand in, though it is a shaky oue at present;
for, after the bird’s-eye view I’ve jist liad of the surroundings, t
ought to be ullowed to know something of the jography.”

Even with this joculur speech there were tines of doubt and
auxiety ou his blood-stained face as hie took his staud for the mn-
portant throw and scanned the deceptive distance,

Kansas Kit had recognized him, and motioned a sign of joy
and encouragement, Determination filled the Irishman’s ine
eye, his powerful form was nerved for the life-saving venture,
luis muscular arm swept around his head, aud the dark rings
seemed to leave his hand and spin across the chusm with the di-
rectness of fate, A moment more the noose fell over the desired
point of ruck, and the long line tightened with a twang likex
distant gong, ’

 

A cheer of applause greeted the skillful act, and Mike, hand-
ing the Jine to a cumrade, sut down weakly on the bunk,

They drew the lasso tight, so that it pussed close in front of
Kansas Kit, and driving a stout stuke deep into the ground, im-
provised a bracing crotch to lighten it. By thisarrangement the
line passed trom the edge of the fulls over the abyss Lo a projec-
tion of the high bank.

it was trightiul to think of a man being forced to trust himself
to this slim, saggy support, which at tue further end looked not
thicker thaa a telegraph wire on which ouly a bird might perch
with safety, Then to think of the terrible undertaking of pass-
ing over the dizzy whirl uf waters far below, hand aiter hand,
with no help, nothing to rely upon but strength ot arm, Whata
dreadful strain on nerve, and muscle, and brain! What a frail
turead was this lasso cord between a man and perdition!

Every man: eit this as he saw the hand of the scout extended
to grasp the rope. 7 .

Corduroy Mike sprang up with a lioarse oath, and followed it
by a whistie,

“By Jupiter, boys!’ he said; “a good man’slife is too precious
to risk on that cobweb. We must try and double it.”

Kit heard the signal whistle aud Urew back, aud he guessed
the meaning when he saw two more lassos brought to the bank,
Mike undertook the throwing. ‘The first one missed the rock and
teli around the body of the scout, as one of the olners bad done;
but the practiced eye ol Mike caugiut the danger, and he did not
slap upon the liue. Neither did Kit remove this noose or tie
vother—and it was well he didu’t.

Mike’s next Cust Was more successful. The line, to the joy of
all, tightened above the uther oue on the rock, aud was strecched
over the stayS and made fast to the picket, thus doubling the
suength of Kit’s risky passage to safety. ;

At a signal of readivess from his iriends, Kansas Kit stretched
out his hands and grasped Lhe jines. It was a moment for beat-
ing hearts, and, deubtiess, Kit’s beat quickiy on the eve of
launching on his dangerous way. Ue paused, grasping the ropes
to nerve jiiinself for tue task, or, perhaps, to usk the ouly aid that
could now aya him. {

At lust, gathering his strength, he drew himself from the
friendly rifle sling that had thus long preserved his life, aud
swung his dripping form out over the guif of foam aud mist. A
few swings to and iro, and he started shoreward hand before
hand, slowly, and as steadily as pussible, keeping his gaze up-
ward all the time. He was too experienced a battler with dan-
ger to overstrain the cord and wear out his owu strength by un-
wise huste, or to iinperil his chances by avizzy glance below,

But, with all his care, it became painfully apparent to the
watchers, the (urther he got from the rock that the strained
rope sagged fearfully, and swung him from side to side more and
more at every motion. i

This lateral movement they knew would increase the nearer he
approached the center, and here his a en was appurent in
not having removed the two lassos trum his body, Peal

At Mike’s suggestion, a couple of men took the end of each
ling, ran along the shore ii} opposite directions, and drasvin
them gently tight, thus stayed the swinging motion, and adde:
considerably to his progress,

Corduroy Mike was dreadfully excited, and.as his friend
reached the center, where the sag Was greatest, and paused tor
breath before Commeucing the up-hill work toward the shore,
he thought Kit's strength was about to give way, aud he danced
about turiously, bawling words ot encouragement to the man on
the rope, and blasphemous directions to the men holding the
guys; then running from one to the other party, he whispered,
In earnest tones:

“Howld tight, boys, for your lives, -and)tbe sure-footed, and
strong-handed for a tall it the lassues Cut o1vthe rock beyant, or
his grasp gives way! Heaven forbid both! It’s terrible, boys,
to tuink of, but we'll at laste save lis body from the wayes or the
wo.ves, Keep heart, Kit, my boy; there’s a Jeng life and wari
welcome betore youl”

 

Asif encotraged by the hearty words, Kansas Kit resumed his
toilsome way, but he was evidently growing weak, and the extra
eXertion necessary in the changing of his, hands made the rope
sway fearfully. ing that this was caneing the nooses to ciate
on the rock,at the further end, Corduroy Mike motioned the men
with the guys, to separate further along tue shore, which was
here somewhat indented, By this action they were broug!it more
aoe opposite each other, and consequently had more com-
and over the swaying motion that threatened the cutting of
the ropes, i

On, slowly and painfully came Kit and, his eager friends were
already eta to imagine him in.their arms when suddenly
they perceived a little jerk in the ropes, and a second after one
of them parted from the rock with a snap and fell floating!
down until it hung perpendicularly from the hands of Kit as ee
pointing to the gult to which he was doomed. ;

A groan burst from the men, and Kit paused, awaiting the
other snap which should precipitate him to the gulf,

“Howld—howid boys for your lives,” roared Corduroy
Mike, rae his arms wildly to the men atthe guys. “Run,
men, run and help them, Ye de no o, Standing here. Heaven
help us! Steady, Kit—steady, true heart. Lookup, man, and
keep your grasp hard and your grasp firm. Ob,I wish I had
armas to reach you!” cried the poor fetlow, bending over the
rock as if he would have thrown himself toward his fifend.

His fervent words put nerve in Kit’s hand and heart, and he
once more started toward the shore. But in such a position he
would be more than human who could remain cool, and now
his grasps at the rope were quick and reckless, It was the en-
orgy of despair, the fre ot hopelessness,

The dreaded and inevitable moment came at last. With a
tremor the strained cord first settled a little, then purted with a
sharp s iepattin down he went, amid the horrified cries of his

8
ill

friends, departing from the perpendicular to the direct line of the
guys until he was stopped with-a jerk that threatened to break
the ropes,

 

‘and swung to and fro, head downward over the boiling
torrent, ;

anw his arm was coniing back onthe tightening cheek, Wieu tag,

 

 

 

A trembling, nearly crying exclamation burst from the men,
and Mike, kneeling on the brow of the precipice, raised his hands
and eyes to Heaven in wordless thank fulness.

But the task was not done—the danger was not over. Kit must
be immediately, rescued from his tmghtiul position where he
swung, devoid of signs of life like the corpse of an executed crimi-
pal. Was he dead, indeed? Had: the shock and the tightening
of the two lussos killed him? This fear smote them, and the
am With the ropes hastened | to pullin gradually nearing each
other.

It was an anxious and trying moment as the motionless body
Was gradually drawn up the face of the precipice, and tne stout
hearts ached with the doubt that held them. At length the feet
appeared above the ledge, and the next moment the form was
caught in the arms of Corduroy Mike and laid stiff and motion-
less in their midst, whiie some of the men rushed to the edge of
the fall to get water té bathe the discolored: and swollen-veined

forehead, See
CHAPTER XXX,

THE WONDER WORKERS IN TROUBLE—TORPEDOES AND THIEVING—
THE MAGIC SLIPPERS, 4

At the close of the twenty-sixth ,chapter we left the facetious
Indian fighters, Professor Dormouse and Dr, Dick Nelson, in a
perplexing predicament the villus of the Apaches with a Jot
of white prisoners on their hands, and the half-drunken and
furious savages surrounding them with carving. and scalping
intentions. It iy tne purpose of the present chapter to show how
their danzer culminated and What came of it.

Uniortuuately curiosity is not confined to white women nor
even tothe white race. The Apache youths and maidens who
had followed the professor and watched lim take the gaivanie
battery trom the pannier on Dick’s mule had their full sbare of
the failing of Eye, and did nut leave that vicinity when the pro-
fessur did. They became possessed of a very strong desire to
Jlearn the contents ot that wouderful paunfer, and attention be-
ing removed trom them by tiie occurrence of tle events hereto-
fore deserived, they formed themselves into a committee of the
whole to proceed with the investigation,

A general appropriation of articies was beginning, whén,
unhappily, a dusky damsel came across asquare vox containing
union torpedoes. Tiese powerful detouaiyves were about the
size and shape of a boy’s China alley, and were striped with
various bright colors in resemblance of that toy.

Now as Satan would have it, the Indians, from papoose to chief,
are one and all sweet-toothed in the highest degree. ‘Phe settlers
know this to their cost where a barrel of common brown sugar
has been sutficient temptation for the slaughter of a housebold,
and the Government agents areso well awure of the fact that
of late years sugar, coufectionary and canned fruits are princi-
pal items in the fists of supplies for presents. A naked nobleman
of the plains is rewarded jor horse stealing by a jar ot preserves,
and tie siaughterers of a settlement ure couxed trom ‘murder
aud sweete into amiabulity with loads of sugar and ben-bons.

No soouer had the girl that seized the torpedo box opened her
prize and displayed tue bright colored globules to view than
exclamations of ¢ bt burst from her fellow plunderers who
mistook the dangerous toys for candies, The lucky or unlucky
holder of the coveted morsels was set upon instanter and never
was a quicker distribution of goods effected. Each grabbed all
he or she could, and slapped @ mouthtul between their jaws, be-
ginning to chew Vigorousiy.

The consequences were horrible, and ludicrous in their horror.
A succession of territic reports ensued, and a concourse of mutil-
uted human beings who haddately been gay and healthy, were
jussping about in a fearfullyagonized dance of ea

Some had both cheeks blown out, Of others thé tpwer jaw
Was gone, and yet others lay headless corpses on the ground,

Indians startled at first by tie explosions, and not know-
ing the cause, stood in stupid astonishment until the howling and
dancing of the pain-stricken sufferers, bearing a horrid resem-
blance to their owu festal fandangoes, they judged this to be
some new influence of the sweet air in the biadders (iaughing
gas,) aud became a jJoud laughing audience. But as one maimed
sufferer after anotlier tell dead trom the horrid reel until the
ground was strewn with faceless corpses, savages first looked
serious, then suspicious, then vengeful.

The principal warriors who hud opposed the elevation of old
Panther Claw to the chieftalnship, approacued Dormouse aud
Dick, hatchet in hand,

“Listen!” said the self-constituted spokesman of the party with
a flourish of his hatchet, more war-like than elocutioual, “The
Big Medicine and his siave know great deal—both great medi-
cines, But the white medicine have noright to come kil Ingins.
No right to kill Black Bear and try to make Panther Claw cuief.
No right to let the scout Kit and the white sirl escape, or to cut
the thongs of the other captives, Ugh!” he said, gazmig around
proudiy on the other warriors. “I have spoke good, hay ?”?

The warriors indorsed his sentiments with loud yells and a
flourishing of hatchets, T yell brought forward a crowd of
linbibative young arriors who had been egaged in the pleas-
ant task of emptying the remaining bladders of laughing gar,
and were now under the influence and ripe for a tull display of
their peculiar propensities. The flourish of the hatchets excited
their murderous liuvaginvations, and with the howling of demons
they rushed upon the group of white prisoners, slushing right
and leit with knife and hatchet.

The sober chieis tried to stup the slaughter, butin vain. Dick
and Dormouse strove to save the unfortunates by using every
Means Of intimidation in their power. Pie professor used his
best powers of veutriloquism, but. his alr-splitiing screams aud
tragic intonations were surpassed and drowned by the hell of
sound that burst from the lips of the frenzied sayages, drunk at
ouce with the passion for blood and the a which was meaut to
control them, A sort of bitter reiribution—the springe closing
ou the setter, ;

Yet the poor, naked-handed captives did not die tamely. They
rushed on their armed assailants, and, seizing them in the fury
of despair, hurled them to the ground, and, Wrenchiug their
Weirpous, died fighting tor dear life, s.

Dick Nelson and Durmouse forgot their assumed characters
and personal salety in the excitement of the massacre. Tie for-
mer plucked the pumpkin wask from his head and dashed it with
a curse among the murderivg savages, then snatched a hatchet
from a watlike spectator, aud dashed junto the fight. But the
owner of the weapon sprang on his back like a panther, pulled
him to the ground, and was on the point of kniting him, when he
was preveuted by Ranther Claw aud such of the otuer captains
as Were sober. e doubtless owed this prevention to the sacred-
ness of his profession as Big Medicine.

Proiessor Dermouse tared uo better, He shot off his air-cane
to Lhe everlasting quieting of one savage; then the weapon was
wrung from his hand, and he was mMrown to the ground and
bound, The savages had seen suc’ ouishing prefs of his sup
pleness abd agility that: took ne thea si gem tO hold
him to tiie earth while he wasbei nd, a ih such secure
bindiug was never prisouer diguified, He was actually wrapped
frony head to fyot with Pine ee and | ete and iu-|
terticd like aw pia mimy or & 4 a

They Were less caretal wita Dick, d not shown such
evidences of spring-back agility, and tied Wimin the usual man-
ner. Meantime the Massacre proceeded and ended, and the
demented butchers were vancing, covered with blood, among the
bedies of the slain, Wiich were scattered all over the camping
ground promiscuously with those ot the or ae Victims.

Dick and the professor were thrown helplessiy‘On the ground,
where the body of Black Bear lay.

Phis is a nice Kettle of fish P’ said the professor, ruefully.

“Rather,” was Dicks doleful answer. “Weve had a pretty
long rua of it, but thisis the wind up—the ‘good-nighw’ chromu-
trope—the ending farce—tue grand tinale of the show.”

“And yet,” said Dorimouse, “if they intend killing us, why did
they not dispatch us with tue rest?”

“Oh, we’re prey of another feather, professor. We're reserved
for special cooking. Probably are out of condiments. Must
luave fixin’s, youknow, whenthey cook your kettle of fish.”

“Thisis Wuat_ comes of your iuternal idea of fighting savages
with scieuce, Blast science!” said Dormouse, petulantly,

“Why, Wuat would you have?” said Dick, in an offended tone.
“Weren't we living wretcledly, by the skin of our teeth, among
white people, fighung poverty, the shabbiest of savages, with
science, and did we get either pleasure or profit? Didu’t we meet
alotof dunderheads toy egotistical for enjJoyment—that would
grumble at godliness and refused to pay for pieasure? Pah!
Give me the amiable Apache and the kindly Kiowa. See how
they’ve enjoyed themselyes—split their sides and sliook off their
heads with laughiug, Tuink what fun they’ve given us. Where's
the cowardly and selfish white mau that would lay down his life
for our amusement us dozens of these gentle suvages have done?
He dvesn’t exist. No, sicee! And yougrumble! Had ever liv-
ing showman audiences more appreciative or more ready to be
astonished? Why, it Barnum got word of such a series‘of bril-
jaunt successes, he’d be out here before the end of the season
with bis whole everlasting hippodrome. And to_ hear the very
Saipson of astouishing showmen growl about a slight stoppage
iu business, I’m ashamed of you, Dormouse.”?

‘Sampson in bondage wus in no joking mood, I'll warrant,”
gad Dormouse. “git to be wondered ut that I growl, wound up
in this shape like @ weavyer’s bobbin Y”?

“Why, bless you, that's only to keep you from bobbin’ round!’
cried Dick, wita a laugh, “Bound over to keep the peace ac-
cording to law. But say—they’re gathering tor some sort of
council, Perhaps our bonuage will not be so long as you think.??

Tae savages had gathered together at sume distance, und the
council pipe passed around, and solemn taces were the order of
the meeting. It was yery evident that there was serious business
on hand,

Dick andthe professor watched the actions of the speakers
Witt: interest, for they teit sure that their own fate depended ou
the issue of Lhe controversy,

They were right, ier ag its. conclusion Panther Claw and the,
spokesman savage beiore-meutioned advauced to the prisoners,
und Panther Claw, dressing Dick, told him that they had
been debating What should be done with them, and it was de-
cided to keep thein prisoners, 60 they couldn't escape, for three
days until the arrival.of jan, important branch of the tribe with
several great captains from the warpath. ‘then he said it would
be decided who should be. chief, aid whoever gained that office
would have their fate in his hauds, ;

With this iuforination, given in presence of his late opponen,
Panther Ciaw departed, anu te other culling four warriors, gave
them strict orders as. to the guarding of the prisoners, and they
were lett with their dusky custodians. Dormouse was rather
gloomy aud depressed, though perhaps this was caused princi-

vally by the very paimiul manner in which he was bound. Bup
pick kept up his spiritsin appearance at least, dealing out long-
wiuded, comic lectures on matters in general to his companion
in misery, and chathug thie guards by turns, and s0 the tlree days
passed drearily enough. : ‘

On the fourth the expected party arrived, loaded with plunder
and decorated with sealps. At a pow-swow iminediately held tiie
eveuts of a few days betore ere made known to the newcomers,
and with neariy uaanimous vote Buifalo Horn, the victorious
jeader of the returned expedition, was elected head. chief, vice
Black Bear deceased, He wasevidently a vigorous statesman,
for uo scouer had this 4liguity»been couterred upon him than he
ordered the wonder working prisoners to be brought before him,
and expressed his sorrow thathe had arrived tuo late to attend
to the case of the young 5 Hive Talon himself.

Dick was not displeased tor shize Buffalo Horn asa chief of
special goud nature wuonm he frequently seen at the agency
powsyows, Where he was looked upon asa sort of humorist and
wit... There was agleam of hope inthis. Even the severe look
om the chiei’s broad intellectual face did not seem so ominous as
theses of the common runt chiets.

“White men,’? he said, “I } heard all you have done to our
oon Where do you come from, and what.brought you here f”

“The Great Cuief Buffalo Horm——” began Dick, with pompous
humility: sv wo ya is Bek :

“The white man knows me,’ dasnicl the chief, with something of
surprise ¢ tee 1 ae!

prise. £3 dee Yaa
“I know. everybody and @verybhing!” said Dick, making an
extra flourish of the roles t for his inabiiity to flourish his

   
   
   

Me,

 

hands, ‘‘But, he “the Whole world knows Buffalo Horn.”

The chiet looked pi i, 1 are suseeptible to flattery,

“Where is your country 1? he said‘in a milder tone; Pad why
do you come to the land of the Apache.”

“My country isin the flery east, where the sun warms bis face
red before he rises tothe eyesof the Apache. I come to the
Apache land to work wonders that the great chief may kuow that
his medicine men are only muffin-heads cumpared to the big
guns of the flery lund.” ‘

The chief listened to the bomnast with deference—if Dick had
shown fear or trembling, or spoken in decent phrase the novle
savage Would have ordered them to the torture stake in the wink
of an eye,

“The white man talks good. Better than the chiefs in the
great counciliat Washington. My people have told me that he is
4 great big medicine, and that his slave in the rope jacket,” said
the chief, wiih a twinkling eye av he glanced at the poor protes-
sor, “is as xwittas the swullow, as limber asa snake,and as
lively as a grasshopper, Buffulo Horn would like to see some of
your wonders too,’ ;

“Let Buifulo Horn.take the ropes off the wonder-workers, and
they will nake him Jaugh with joy like the cat-bird, and shake
lis sides with fun like a ferfhtened bullfrog.”

The chief was about orderibg their release when his captains
and warriors assailed him witha wiid hubbub of expostutation,
pointing to the body of Black Bear which lay on a bier et branch-
es in the shed erected for his wedding, an@46 the bloody ground
where the torpedo yictims had lath, and Iustly to Kitv’s mule,
with the terrifying panniersetill at his sidés: (None of the savages
had dared to touch them since the affair‘of the ‘torpedoes,

Tie chief ordered the mule to be brought forward, and one of
the newly-arrived warriors, who, in the bliss of ignorance, had no
tear of instant annihilation, led the animal up before the chief,
Those whose knowledge made them dread the beast and his bur-
den gave them a wide berth; but the new-comers, although they
had heard all that the others Knew, pressed forward out of sheer
curiosity.

The chief ordered the examination of the panniers, and the

rd

 

expostulations of the wary ones recommenced; but he was a
man of self-will, and did not heed them. The contents were
taken out and heaped at his feet, and he commenced to ex-
amiue them,

The first article he took in his hand was Dick’s little medicine-
chest, which he opened, after unbuckling the tees

“What's this ?” he said, looking at the array ot bottles, etc,

“Wonder-box!” said Dick,

“What wonder is this ¥? asked the chief, taking out one of the
yials, which seemed to contain short clippings of very flue brown

air.

“That,” said Dick, “is one of the greatest wonders in the
world. It is known in the land of the East as ‘cowiteh,’ and be-
ing powdered on the sktm of the dullest man or woman, it will
Make them livelier than musketoes, beiuuaper than fire-files, und
funnier than the funniest thing you ever Aw.”

“IT will ury this wonder,” said the chief, and calling some of
the dullest-looking sqaws and Indians in the camp, by: Dick's
direction he rubbed some of the irritating material on their
necks, in their arm-pits, between their fingers und toes, and jn
different other parts of their bodies, and, soon, according to
Dick’s prophecy, they were the very liveliest people, in the vil-
lage—scratching, and scraping, and praneing, as if their bodits
had been filled with a thousand imps of unrest.

Buffalo Horn langhed until his face was wet with tears, for the
first time in his life, and his sidesassore as if he had been kicked
tor half a day in a game of football.

He declared this wonder a great success, and he was so pleased
with the amusement it nad afforded him, that he determined to
go systematically through the wouder-box; and Dick, seeing
that by his way of trying the things on. ctier peeple, no damage
would come to him and his tellow prisoner trom the fun created,
consented to direct the use of the articles, and soon they bad ad-
mninistered to compulsory subjects everything the box contained,
trom white hellebore snuff, which set them sneezing like mad, to
croton oi], which had a very different and more violent effect.

Ina few moments the wonger-working wus ju full blast, and
never was so lively a camp of Indians seen since the loss of the
ten tribes of Isruel.

Buffalo Horn was nearly as helpless, as the worst afflicted of
his subjects from: the excess of his laughter; but he was a per-
fect glutton jn enjoyment, and turned from the sick and screech-
ing Seraaees to flud new matter for fun in the contents of the

amuier,

“What's this f’ he said, holding up a small magic-lantern.

“Spirit Bux!” cried Dick, in a staruiug, theatrical manner,
“That’s the wonder of wonders, never before known ou the
earth, but wewly imported. irom the bappy hunting-grounds
where the spirits roam, fur the express entertainment of the
great and ridicuious Buffalo Horn.”

“We'll try the spirit-Lox!” said the great.and ridiculous.

“There’s a time tor all things, great chief,” said Dick, with the
most tragic pomposity, “The spirits are shy and won’t show
their faces iu the daylight. When the night darkens the sky
they’ll stand before you in the light of the fire.’*

“Well, we'll wait till night,” satd thechiet, laying the magic-
lantern to one side. “What are these ¥” he asked, hokling ap a
pair of ornamental, zinc-soled slippers, used in exhibitions in con-
nection with the galvanic battery, as munya poor greenborn,
duped into putting them on, can remember,

“Those !? cried Dick, in a tone of eestasy, as if his heart was
bursting for expression worthy of the subject. “Those are the
wonder par excellence !—excuse the Latin—I mean bully—tip-top
—very fine—good. Those are the magic-slippers, of the same
pattern as those worn by the sunbeams when they dance on the
ripples of the river!—wondertul my that cun muke a cow
dance hke a fairy, and put life and grace in the feet of a bear!
Buftalo Horn has been to see the great father at Washington ?”

“Ugh! Yes!”

“snd to New York ?””

“Yest Yes!”

‘And he was taken to the big show and saw the squaws with
the eae legs dauce like spirits, and his eyes felt glad to look at
them

“Yes! Yes!’ said the chief, whose eyes were twinkling even
with the remembrance of the “Black Crook” beauties,

“And he would like to be able to dance like them ?”

“Yes! Yes!” cried the chief, eagerly,

“Then!” cried Dick, in a magnificent tone, “let Buffalo Horn
take off his moccastms and buckle on the magic shippers and cut
the thongs that tie the wonder worker and his slave chat they
may show bim the steps, and he shall dance as no white legged
squaw ever danced belure—by my halidume he shawl”

“Cut the thongs!” commanded Buffulo Horn, sitting down to
put on the magic slippers.

{TO BE CONTINUED.]

PLEASANT PARAGRAPHS,

A Datch Temperance Lecture.

Vat, Pilly! Dien itis like 1 dought so? Uud yonam
drunk, you young villain?

Vell dhere now dot. makes your uncle feel pooty bad in
his heart-shtrings to saw a hice shinart pooty young feller
like you am, vals so full up mit goot prains uud good
nature to veut und got so fulied up mit indoxications und
recklessness. 1 dought 1 heard a queer racket in your
room, 80 | got susbiciousful dot eferrypoddy he vasn’t in
his right legs—oxbecially as 1 heerd you a-lellin some-
diug werry gomical und werry confidential to der vall, as
you vas siluupin up sduirs, aud also a-siugin werry bad
suugs in werry bad tune to der shtair-rods,

So lL comed up, und here you am, you young skaleyyag,
drunk like Medhusalum (or some of dhose fellers) stretched
all oper der bed, und juit your Jong legs a-haugin ofer
welry sassy.

here you’m layin, der bicture of shtoopid folly, mit der
shadow of future drubble writed blain on your frouthead,
uud der shadow of bast whisky printed biain on der vag-
end of your nosef Duere you ani, careless like a old white
hai turned oul to die, mit yon boot half yay off, und der
oder boot half vay on!

Say, Pilly, my poy, I'm a feelin verry bad to saw you a-
gifin up-to der ‘*Bowl vat Fiows,”? und a-goin to der olt
poy in dis awful vay.

“Say, voke up, Pilly! You needn’t made belief you’m asleeb.
Dm a-talkin- big nt oe uad J.vunt you to listen werry
loud Now ain’t you shamed bout yourself, don’t you ?

Vat, no answer! Now look a-here, I told you pefore I coodntt
bin foolish det vay. You’m fast asleeb, eh ? No, sir; you aiu’t
not Pm too olda fool to be chickened dot vay; you migitt bin
fast asleep in your eyes, but you’m vide avake in your ears—und
dot’s all I care about, ; \

' w Pm gei to talk @ Fourd of Chuly address to you, und,so
you tedder—— . “ /

Yell, schnore avay! T kin talk avay ofer your schnores.

Now, you young puffulo, vat der doose do you mean py comin
in efery night dime so peastly jolly, eh ?

Do you dink you’m goin to bin allowed to make oder peobles
prains grazy mit extonishment und——

Dot’s it, you young pull-dogs, schnore louder uf it does you
some goot, but Din going to dalk ot der earth falis!

Do you subbose dut—— “Gif you a reet for gootness sake,” eh ?
No, sif-ree. Vat, you ain't auxious tor any oxdensif contersations
yoost now, ain’t you? Vell dot’s a pooty cool shtatement, gon-
siderin der circumstances,

Am you avare dot you’m vasting out der bestest part of your
days, you young shackass? Do you know dot old Vhiskey und
Black Potties vill soon made a aimateur-corpe out of youl Vill
sitole avay der bright shbarkle of dhose Jwo dark eyes of
yours, und made dhem look like dhey vas in bickle over night!
Do you knojvyall dot my poy ? Und how vood you like to dook
dot shar eh? How vill you dook it, I say ?

Vet iee i “dook it mit a drifle of sugar und von lemon-shkin,”
eh? Now dhere’s more of your peastly trunken chokes. I’m
airaid your’m gone, und am fust a-shlidin down der shlippery
hil! vot leads to der Sea of on und der Wale of Borrawt

No, sir, you yorng mule, dhose blaces ain’t over in Chermany,
sosbut up. Dhey’m in a much vorser place- Vat! blease gif you
von shtitf drink petore you visit dhose places, cause you’ w#
“dhroughbred” und a “rounder!” Vell, all I kin say is der bet-
ter you git out of dot business der soouer it'll be for you. Now,
I’jl try ounce more, und uf you muke foolish of me again, I’m a-
_ to stop, und let you vent you own vay, und let you shlide

own und got siibilled off intodhem awful places vatI pefore
shbeaked about, so look oud. Now, Pilly, ’m gom to ask yon
shmall question, und I vant you to answer.

You vant to go to shleeby. eh? Und you von’t yoke up! Yes
you vill, you opstinate young bull-ox, you must yoke up for dis
question. Now listen to your uncle. Say, Pilly, my dear poy,
don t you lofe your old mudder ?

Ah! hal Iknowed you vood had to voke up at dot question.
Lofe her! Vy of course you do, Pilly; und I knowed it mitoud
you a-saying it so earnest{ul. Of course, poy, you voodent made
drouble py your old mucder’s heart, but dhen you’m so foolish-
vikt you never don’t dink, und so I’m goin’ to oben your eyes
loose vide avake.

Now,’ Pilly, last night you had a goot time, didn’t you? Yes,a
“bully goot time.”? I belief you—causel vas a old “senator”?
myseif youce, Villiam,

eli, you vas round init “der gang,” asingin und trinkin der

 

 

-time avay werry shociably. You vus a veil-feller-hail-met mit

eferypoddy, und so habby hike a high clamin der vater up, Now,
my poy, vat kind of atime vus your old mudder hafing vhile
you vas raising dhem rackets,eh? She vast hafiug no goot
time, Pilly, you kin bet your boot. She yasn’t von of “der gang,”
no, sir; your mudder she vasn’t no “rounder,” but you vasu’t
dinkiu bout dot. I know uf you cood got dwo glimpses of der
blu lady, vhile you vas singin ‘*Till Morning e Don’t Vent
Home!’ you vood haf shlided avay home to her in couple shmall
consequlif seconds.

How vas she a-bassin dertime, eh ?, Ah! ha! you’m vide-avoke
now, und your uncle he’s awiul glad tosaw it. Vell, she vasu’t
haflug not no lifely time, not nohow, my poy! Der time mit her
bassed werry shlow und werry miseraple. er olt lady vood try
to got a couple vinkfulls of shleeb vich her olt eyes dhem needed
pooty bad enough—but dhem eyelids voodent shut down, Pilly.
Dhem vood look out der vindow, und up der sutreet for somepody
vat oughtto bin Jong ago shnoozing quietly in der bedclothes—
und dot somepody vas you, Pilly!

* Her ears dhem vooden’t lay down neider, but vas listenin loud
to efery feetshteps vat dramped along der shtreets, und shiferin
nit der heart-sink whenefer some of dhose feetshteps shtumbled
alyng in a oxcentri¢ und careless vay—afraid dot dhose teetshteps
might been Pily’s!

Her vorn-out prain dot vooden’t dook a rest neider, out yas
rollin all round her headt inside dinking bout eferyding—efery-
ding bout you, Pilly. BEteryding bout vhen you vasa nice leetle
fellow vat loted his mudder alinost in bieces, und vat filled ub
mit der grate gratitude dot mudder’s heart dot she vas hafe left
such a shild to made der Vintertaune of her life a Summertime
of gomfort und bleasure!

She vas dinkin all bout dis, last night, my poy, und vien she
vaked up to der reality, und dinked all bout her Pilly not bein
home up in his bedclothes, und out a-vasting und shboiling all
his goot brosbects und all her sweet dreams, dhen, my dear poy,
yas come der quiet tears down ofer her pillow, und dhen vas der
deep sighs shhp of her poor heart out, uud dhen vas your mud-
der a-quietly sufferin grate suffers vat Pilly knowed not von yordt
about! Oh! my, my/ Pilfy, vasn’t dot too real bad tor der olt
lady, eh! Vasu’t dot too pooty rough tor her old heart-shtrings
to got shtrained dot vay, vhile Pilly vas samplin vbisky shtraights
und dhrowin dice-boxes, und singin “Dot’s bully for Dhommy
Dodd!’ ¥asn't dot bityiul dot a poor old varm-hearted mudder

yas—

Ah! ha} Pilly, vat’s dot shbarklin down der side of your nose.
No, sir-ree, dot ain’t from a coldness in der headt, not no such
ding; it’s front someding much bedder—a varmness in der heart.
You needn’t iry to bush your nose in der billows dot vay to hide
dhem. Let dhem ftow out so much dhey vill, und oh! Pilly,
your uncle he’s awful glad yay in his heartto saw it.. A vhile
ago I dought you vas a tough yeung raskell mit his heart frozed
like a cold icigle; now I know dot you’m der same old Pilly, und
mit not von drop of der varmness leaked of your young heart
out. Now I’ll tell you vat todo, Dook your uucle’s advice, und
you nefer bin regretiess dherefrom. :/

Now, Pilly, chumb right up, und vent into your mudder! You'll
find her shjeebin vide-avoke. . Vent right in; perhaps you hear a
couple sighs mixed up mit der name of “Pilly.” Dot vill sdart

ou sure, Vent right down on your knee-poues py der side of

ier bed. Ketch her right all round der head, und scquose her
neck most to bieces, vhile — a kissin der dampy tears avay.
Dalk to her hike you vas a leetle baby. , She vas der only mudder
you efer had, und der only yon you efer vill hafe, Don’t be
shamed to told. her eteryding, my poy, und don’t forgot to
sclivear @ grate big solemn schvear dot you vill gate up forefer
dot shtuff vat’s'sliboilin der lifes of der whole dwo of you; und
seal der bargain up mit von Jong kisses of confection vat)ll youll
both daste to your dying day! ow, Pilly, my goot poy, do vat
I’m delling you, und’ dhus make subill ofer init subremeful joy
der varm hearts of yourself, your mudder—und your uucle vat
lofes youl
* a + * * * *

Dhere, he’s gone in to saw her. Und, oh! dhank Hefen, I know
yon shmall room to-night vich vill been putiful like asilfer-bright
palace, for der berfect joy und habbyness dherein—der joy of a
mudder yat sees her shiki snatched from bein runned ofer by der
Indemperance Oxbress Train, und der habbyness of a goot, but
foolish-vild young feller vat had his eyes sharpened out mita
leetle kind advices.

Vell, I feel so werry.dickled myself dot I belief my elt eyesam
gottin dampy dieirself; so I'll vent to my room, und had a guiet
shmoke, und dhen vent on der bed, a-boilin ofer mit quiet satis-

 

 

Se Se a

factions, und a-blessin der luck, or der shbirit, or vatefer it vas,
vich shdarted me up to talk tu poor Pilly to-night!
Yours, quietly, Nick SLAETER,

A Cate-astrophe.
One more unfortunate

Ts lying dead;

A stone, thrown accurate,

Caused it, tis said.
Look on him tearfully,

Touch him with care,
Pelt. d so feariully,

He’s past repair.

Look at his handle,

Straight as a candle,
Once it was curied

Like a half moon;
Now, it’s unturled,

And all undone.
Touch him not scomfully,
Think of him mournfully,

Do not be boisterous,

For he was a feline, .
O genuer masculine,

Gentle and amorous, : }
Do not investigate :
How oft he’d captivate
The heart of some kitty;
For, to tell you the iruth,
In the days of his youth,
He was quite pretty.
Thanks for their rarity,
Their blessed scarcity,
Or, by my soul,
*Twould be pitiful,
If a whole cityial
Would ‘gin to howL
Out on the roof so steep,
When the folks were asleep,
He tried to tune his voice;
To window and casement,
From garret to busement,
A head and a tace went : ¥
Awaked by the noise. ‘
Quickly each window sash,
With a terrific crash,
Was raised up high;
Then round that nobie cat,
Fall many a brickbat
Went hurtling by.
But soon upon his head,
There tell a piece of stone,
Smashing his cranial bone,
Killing bim dead—stoue dead.

Look on him tearfully,
P. ues sear aa care,
elted so fearfully, =
He’s past repair, LOU Aw KELLY,

Gabriel. Le ;

There was a married couple, poor and old, living in East Daven-
port, New York, at the time of the great Millerite excitement
which spread through the land some winters ago. We will call
them Dennis ano Moliy Odell, though Odell is notthe real name,
and they ure living yet. nnis was tov strong-minded to tuke
the infection, but Moliy was a thorough convert, and one night
in mid Winter when a north-west gale was blewing till it shook
their old house from sill to rafters, she woke Dennis up.

“Do you hear the noise, Dennis ?” she said, as some loose ¢lap-
boards rattled terribly. “Gabriel has come! Don’t you hear his
carriage wheels rattling over the road!” :

“Hush, Molly!” said Dennis, drowsily. “Gabriel isnt such a
tarval fuol as to come i a carriage when there’s three ieet of
snow on the ground!”

Molly subsided, and waited for Gabriel to come in a sleigh. >

DR. PowELt,

A Disgusted Dutchman.

Bill J—, the sheriff ot Coibert County, Ala., a'zeatous poker-
player, and a prosperous Teutonic merchant of Tuscumbia named
S——, were traveling on the cars, and, in order to puss away the
time, engaged In a game of euchre,

After playing some time the jolly Dutchman keft his seat toget
a drink of Water; and Bull, knowing that he, too, had a penchant
for polka, took advantage of his absence and dealt him a band
with four kings in it, and turned up the queen for a trump,

Returning iv a moment, and lifting his hand, S. at once con-
ceived the brilliant idea of playing the hand at poker, and ac-
cordingly suggested it to Bill, who consented, provided he might
be allowed to discard one ot his cards and take up the queen, To
this S. at once agreed, and the game proceeded, Says 3.:

“Bill, I bets you $5.”

In turn Bill raised him $10 more. S

“Well,” says 8., "$15 will joost pay’ mine expense and some
odder tings, and I call you, sill,” at the same time exhibiting his
band with four kings, and reaching for the money.

‘Hold on!? says Bil; “I have four aces!’

Nervously and In silence the astonished Dutchman gathered
the cards and shuffled them for a moment or two; then; with his
chin resting on both clenched hands, and his eyes staring into
uncertainty, be exclaimed:

“T say, Bill, joost you told me yot de h—ll dot queen had to do
mit dot hand ?”

And up to this hour his mind is perplexed continually to find
the part that card had played in the game,

“Not if I Know It.”

A man sauntered into a Portlind drug store the other morning,
and alier spending a few moments louking into the show-cases,
and turnimyg a piece of tooth-pick several times in his mouth,
startled the clerk with the question:

“What's good to cure poisoning f? :

“What kind of poison.ng f” asked the clerk,

“Well, luudanum poisoning,’ said the stranger. “You see, the
old woman took a couple of teaspoontuls of laudanum, andTt
kinder thought I'd better drop into a pill-shop amd see what’s
good for her.” [All this m a drawling voice,] :

“Here, John!” shouted the clerk; “put upastrong emetic as
quick us you can, and you, sir, take it home, give it to your wile,
follow it up with strong coffee, and call a dector,.”

“A doctor!” says the man, taking lus medicine, “She don’t
Waste no money on doctors—not it I know it??

Some Bears.

A few years ago, when this county could not boast of as many
fine fruit farms as it does now, and Tom Hicks was not the mighty
Nimrod he has since become, he shouldered his rifle one fine
morning and lett iis cabin to shoot.a wild turkey for vinner, In
jess than quarter of an hour he was back again minus bat, rifle
and one shoe, and so excited and promaucet with running that
he could scarcely speak. “What on *g the matter of yer ?”?
demanded his father, who met hin ‘at the door. Tom lioked
back over his shoulderto make sure there was nothing following
him, and aiter stuttering a few seconds matiaged to aruculate:
“Pap, Iseed more’n five hundred bars-outen the woods.” “Hash
yer noise, boys, an’ come into the house,” exclaimed the old
man, ‘Wal, I seed three hundred,” persisted Tom, “Ye didn’t
nuther,” ‘I seed a hundred then.” “No ye didn’t, nor Afty.”
“Wal, thenf I know Iseed twenty-five.” ‘No, nor twenty-five.”
“Wal, pap, I'll tell ye what’s gospel, I heern the brush a crackin’
an’ I know they’re thar.” H. ¢,

Chowder,

A half-bi in the West, known as the ‘Indian Orator,” de-
livered a public address, the gist of which was a tirade against

one Jared Dean, a prominent politician of the time. “Or what
tribe is the speaker?” asked a stranger in the audience of a gen-
tleman, who, by the way, happened to be the object of the halt-
breed's vituperation, “I dowt know,” replied the unfortunate
Dean—“though,” be added, with a rueful smile, ‘judging from
his speech, I should think him of the diatribe,” Ls
Among the assemblage ata unis meeting, during =
Jate Stokley-McCiure contest in Philadelphia, was a newly fm-
ported Milesian named Mike Sullivan, Now, to be a privite ed
voter is the hight of Mike’s ambition, and his inability in ‘hat
respect made him the subject of much ridicule on the part of his
lately franchised Cousin Jim, In the course of an eloquent har-
rangue the speaker adyerted to the head of the opposite party:
“As to McClure,” said he, “any man may yote for him if he
;_ bat’?—— “Howly murther, Jimmy, did ye hear that ??
yelled Mike, his broad face beaming with triumph; “he says any
man may vote for McClure if he chews; and sure Dye been usin?
tobaccy this tin years.” .

“What air do yon desire ?” asked a musician of a witful adven-
turer who had asked him to play, “I desire,” was the reply, “an
heir to a large fortune,” “Ah, I see,” laughed the musician, “a
million-aire.” “O, how pun-gent,” airily retaliated the wag.

EDDIz CLAIR.
>

ITEMS OF INTEREST,

kas A constable visited the Union Depot in Cleve-
land Obio, recently, for the purpose of attaching the trunk of a
newly-married nan in payment of asmall debt. Probably an-
ticipating some difficulty, the groom had sent the trunk contain-
ing his wedding outfit on a train in advanee, and the constable
was only able to grasp a plump-looking valise. This, however,
the bride claimed as hers, and the constable atlength seiged
upon « new siik hat, which lay beside the groom upon the seat,
and Carried his prize offin triumph. The couple continued their
journey, 12 spite of this unpleasaut episode.

aa Two rabbits which had just had young, died
Jately, in England, from eating hemlock. ‘The eight young rab-
bits were given to two cats, Whose kittens had been drowned,
and they at once suckled them, and continue to dose. The eats
lick and caress them just as they would their kittens, and the
rabvits are quite ut their ease, and grow fast, They are most
interesting aud amusing, and are great pets with the cottagers
who have them.

axa An old gentleman in Kingston, N.Y., hasplaced
& monumentin ine cemetery to his own “memory,” inscribed
with his name and the date of his birth, (with a blank space for
the time of his death, when that occurs), and also these words:
“Think of the redeemed in Heaven sivging praises to God and
the Lamb forever and forever.”

kay The steamer Chrysolite, which arrived in Liv-
erpool on May 16, from New Orleans and Nortoik, Va., reports
having experienced, after leaving the latter port, uninterrupted
rain fur fourteen days, and it was only on his arrival inthe Chan-
nel that the eaptain got a chance of sighting the sum

sa In Armenia, N. Y., there is an old-fashioned
house, now nearly a century old, which contains twetity-eight
rooms, exclusive of closets, and has seven brick fire-places, three
brick ovens, and skx outside doors, .

aa A soldier of the war of 1812 died recently, in
Harrison Gourty, Ind,, and was buried in a coffin made trom a
tree he had bimself planted.

kas Bouquet matinees are popular in New Or-
leans, Everypody carries a bouquet in the hand, and the theater
looks like ‘an immense flower-bed in bloom,

aar A perfectly tame Zebra, which will allow per-
sons to ride on its back, is among the attractions of the Paris
Zoviogical Society. ‘

xg A Williamsport, Pa., man has invented a gar-
ment combining both shirt and yest, and applied for a patent
on it.

aas- A Nova Scotia vessel arrived at Gloucester,
Mass., recently, haying a captain and crew consisting of a man,
one son, and two daughters,

aa- A piece of land in the suburbs of Providence,
R.I., was bought about thirty years ago for $400. The owher re-
cently refused for it $75,000, *

ag Vienna, Austria, is now supplied with clear
spring water, at a temperature of filty degrees, brought from the
hights of the Scemmering, a distance of about seyenty miles.

aa Sea guils were recently seen fiying about
Memphis, Tenn., having been blown inland by the late galed
from the south.

4a The English Lord Chamberlain cuts the word
“God” out of all plays, and if an actor utters it, he may cause
the manager to forfeit his license,

nar A hotel at Bethlehem, Pa., is advertised as
having been erected in 1758,

xa The cultivation of coffee has been commenced
in California,

aa A portrait of Napoleon I., by Paul Delaroche,
was recently sold in London tor $2,500.

kas The police authorities of Constantinople have
forbidden the sale of the Scriptures in the Turkish !anguage.

aa Matilda, the twin sister of Charles Sumner,
died in March, 1832, at the age of twenty-one,

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

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“could contribute much to the overthrow of.a dynasty, but

- ye-wehieve Consideration. -

) ‘Weekly rFigaro,” the “Sun? and. the “Event.’?
brilliant, lively and satirical sketches and criticisms were

‘ At. last the. 11th

 

 

 

 

 

ON meee a ee

NEW YORK, JUNE 29, 1874, |

LIS

 

ew

 

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NEXT WEEK. |

The Sweet Sisters _
OF INCHVARRA; |

a. —— OR —+—
The Vampire of the Guillamores.

By Annie Ashmore,

  

 

\ Mathor of “FATTHFUL MARGARET,” “JEN-

‘NY VAIL’S MISSION,” ete.

Those who. have read. “Jenny Vail’s Mission” and

| “Faithful Margaret’’ will not require urging to peruse the

grand story of “THE SWEET SISTERS OF INCH-
VARRA,’”, wilich will be commenced in No. 35 of the
NEW YORK WEEKLY., It is really one of the most

- beautiful stories we have ever read. The earnestness, fire

and force of the.author are evident in every paragraph,
and her remarkable descriptive power finds ample scope
in the strange, startling and mysterious events. which
‘crowd every chapter. The intense interest which every
person must feel in the heroines aftér reading the opening

part, wherein is: described one of the most thrilling
dramatic incidents ever conceived, gives a fair indication
of the author’s skill in entrancing the attention. |

A better story:than

The Sweet Sisters of Inchvarra |

it would be difficult to procure, and we are confident the
millions of readers ‘of the NEw YORK WEEKLY will pro-
claim it, each and all, to be one of the most soul-absorbing
yomances ever written.

THE

‘ Sweet erie of Inchvarra,

, OR THE,

Vampire of the Guillamores,
Will be commenced in No. 35,

HENRI ROCHEFORT. .

 

 

BY FRANCIS A. DURIVAGE,

 

‘Edmund Burke: says somewhere “a monse gnawing
through-a sluiceway niay- drown a-nation? ~4 Le
While Victor Hugo was pounding-away at the French
empire with ponderons siege guns Irom the distant stiore
of Jersey, Henri Rochefort, a farce-writer, attacking Me }
enemy at closer Quarters and. with lighter weapons, did

more than any other.one man toward destroying éhe
, popularity of Napoleon }II, covering his policy with ridi-

cule, and preparing the way for his downfail. Some ‘of
our journals affect to disbelieve that Napoleon ever sahil

, to his minister.Ollivier, ‘-We can do nothing While Roche-

fort is about,” but whether. he avowed the belief or not,
the fact is indubitable that:he was the greatest obstacle in

' his path, and he must have been shrewd ‘enough to per-
ceive it. cee ~ *

“Tt seems to us strange that a witty, satirical. writer

it is different in. France,;where no man and no party can
stand who afford a mark ‘or persistent ridicule. The
power that braves bayonelg and cannon goes down before
a storm of laughter. .Of course tie disasters of the
Prussian war were the immediate cause, of the ruin of

~ Napoleon, but,the persistent attacks of such men as Victor |:
Hugo.and Rochefert,-one the Tragedian, and the.other the

Comedian of politics, had so.injared his prestige that ‘he
was compelled'to.take' even’ tlie dnest desperate steps to
Believing, ten, wnat Rochefort, a powerful destructive
agent in the past, is.destined to be a yet more conspicuous ;
revolutionist if the future, let us place on fecord: im the
New YorK WEEKLY afew features of the: career of the
noted ‘‘man‘of the times’? for future reference. ;
His full, name and title are Count Victor Henry de.
Rochiefort—Lucay,. though he modestly cals: himself only
Henri Rochelort, as becomes a professed and undoubtedly
sincere republican. He was born January 30, 1830, and.is
the son-of @ legitimist father and republican mother, He
was educated at the college of St. Lonis, where ‘he dis-
tinguished. himself by his early poetical productions.

’ Alter trying medicine and school-teaching with indifferent

success, he obtained a small office.ander the City Govern-
ment of Paris. After. a few years service, however, he
resigned the situation“and devoted himself to literature.
After having been ome of the founderss of the short-lived
‘“‘Paxisian Ciironicle,®’ he wrote for lite Comic Almanac,”
the “Charivari Almanack,’? the “Yellow Dwarf,’ the
His

80 Weil. appreciated by the public. that, in. 1868, the pro-
prietor of the Daily ‘Figaro’? engaged him to write. ex-
clusively for that journal-at a salary of $6,000 year.
During a period of several years, Rochefort, either
alone or in assoGialion with some other dramatist, turned
out a number of:lively one-ac: farces and comedies played
with great success: at different Parisian’ theaters. This
was good practice for the future political satirist. In 1859,
there appeared from his pen, but under the nom de plume
of Eugeue Mirecourt, @ successful: historical romance in
four-vclumes, entitled ‘The Marchioness de Coureelies.”
A. few years later, the severity of his pelitical essays

> having drawn down upon the ‘Figaro’? the wrath and

threats of the government, Rochefort abandoned his con-

_ nection with it and resolved to establish. a publication

‘where he alone should be responsible for his sentiments.
“They want to stop me from breaking my neighbors’
Windows” he said, “so (il have a house of my -own.’?

_ This declaration preceded the establishment of his famous
“Lantern,” a little weekly pamphlet entirely written by

himself, June 1,,.1868.-. Al first.it was sold in -the streets,
then this privilege was ‘withdrawn. Oiler persecutions
on the part of the government, together, with ithe real
merit of this witty, wide-awake fighting journal, ran up
the circulation from 80,000 “to sometimes 200,000 copies.
number was seized, and «Rochefort
arrested. He was tried, and sentenced to a year’s im-
prisonment, and afine of $2,000 also levied on the 12th
number of the ‘“‘Lantern.”? After this the place of publi-
cation was changed to Brussels, whence large, numbers
were smuggled into France, in spite of the vigilance of
the authorities. It had an enormous circulation through:
out BKurope, both in French and in English, Spanish,
Italian, and German versions, : ert a

To avoid impfisonment for an assault and battery on
one of his public defamers who -refused to fight a duel
with him, Rochefort took refuge in’ Brassels. ~ There he
fought a duel with Ernest Baroche. He had previously
encountered on the duel ground a Spanish officer, Prince
Achille: Murat, and tle formidable Pat) de Gassagnac.

. These encounters are enought to prove that Rochefort is

not lacking in courage. They all grew ont of articles from
his pen. ; f * 4

In 1869, he was elected Deputy for the 7th cireumscrip-
tion of Paris, and though the legality of his candidateship

Was for’someé tithe-contesteil; he was finally ‘permitted to.

lake his seat, Louis Napoleon sending him a‘safe conduct
to bring him from exile into France.’ It is said’ the Em-
veror did this in the, belief-that: Rochefort -~weuld make
imself ridiculous as a Legislator,:and the.“‘nephew of his

uacle’’. saluted hiin with.aisarcastic smile? when he. first

Tose to speak, But Rochefort-was equal to thts occasion,
“T may have done ridiculous. things in my_life,” he said,
“as the Sneer of yonder gentleman seems-to suggest, ‘but:
{ never did anything, half soridiculous as to. make a des-
cent on-the coast of France with a tamé eagle on my.
shoulder and’a piece of bacon in my hat,’’ in allusion ‘to
Louis Napgleon’s farcical attempt on’ Boulogne, when a
comesticated bird was to play a partin the solemn.farce.

Returned to Paris, he established a new journal called
the ‘Marseillaise.”” Out of this publication grewithe Victor
Noir’s tragedy. Victor Noir, one of the. youngest writers
on the new paper, calling.on Pierre Bonapurte,,as one of

q Rochefort, was shot dead by

1 form of an insurrection.

tickets.

 

 

the ‘princél,..More tha a
hundred thousand persons, excited by the ‘‘Marseillaise’’
attended the funeral of the young editor, but Rochefort
did his best to prevent the demonstration assuming the
The report of a smath detach-
ment of troops drawn up on the Champs Elysees, how-
Bonaparte avas tried by a special tribunal and .acquilted.
Rochefort, on account of his incendiary, articles, was
tried, sentenced to six months’ imprisonment, and a fine
of $600, and was shut up in St. Pelagie. :

The war with Germany set him free. mie
- Rochefort was a member of the National Assembly
sitting at Versailles when.the. Communal rebellion broke
out, and he immediately went to Paris, not for the pur-
pose of aiding the Commune, he asserts, but to give good
advice to the people. It does not appear that, although
he sympathized with the principles of the Commune, he
sanctioned or took any part in the atrocities of which it
was guilty, such as the shooting of the hostages and the
burning of the city, deeds which provoked a retaliation
even more horrible.
Bonapartism singled out Rochefort as a’ victim, and he,
whom the Communists themselves distrusted and would
probably have sacrificed had their reign endured much
longer, was sentenced to imprisonment for life in New
Caledonia. : ,

His romantic escape thence, his arrival at San Fran-
cisco, his hurried journey across the continent, his recep-
tion in this city, are events too recent and.too familiar to
be dwelt upon here. Rochefort, as we have shown, is not
a great-man, and yet he is a political power, andit is be-
cause we are destined to hear'more Of him, now that he is
on his way to Europe with renewed. health and strength,
that we have dwelt thus much on the earlier incidents of
hiscareer, He.is known as a fierce revolutionist—we have
yet to see whether he will manifest, if the opportunity be
given him, the higher talent of a reconstructionist.

 

“You Must Wear. Better Clothes.”

 

costly surroundings—a large store, with rich appoint-

shawl alone is enough to make many poor people com-
fortable this cold winter, Wesee the master in his easy-
chair, clad in faultless’ linen and expensive ‘broadcloth.
Before him stands a trembling lad, to whom heis speak-
ing in’ the harshest tomes, Let us draw near and hear
what the poor boy has done that he shouldbe so severely
censured by his employer. Perhaps he has committed
some error that deserves reprimand. :

What.do we hear?. Great Heavens! The boy’s. sin is a
patch in the knee of lis pants,

“If you expect employment here, sir, you must wear
better clothes.’?

We.turn away heart-sick, for we know, as does the rich
master, the history of that boy; and we know, too, the
paltry sum doled out to him for his weekly-labor, for his
task commences at daylight and ends after dark. |

Three dollars‘a week! ; ‘

A sick father, a heart-broken mother, whose labor. must sup.
port the invalid, and the little,ones who are unable to render any.
assistance. Only Johnny who can Rive help in this great time of
need, and that is only a mite, just endugh to keep starvation trom
the door; and now that must be taken away, because the clean,
but patched and darned clothes do not suit the, fastidious taste
of the merchant prince, who turns to the desk without a thought
of the boy’s distress, or a care for the ruin he may have wrought.
He is well able togive the child a good suit of clothes, but such
silent generosity would not’ pay lim—his gifts must be princely,
and telling. : ;

We know this man well enough to dare ask him a few ques-
tions,-and so.we venture near. ., : f ;

Whatis the matter with Johnny? Has he wfonged you in any
way?’ ’
The man has the grace to blush. ,

“No! he is industrious, punctual, faithful, and we have no fault
eto find with the boy, except his.clothes; and I tell you, madame,
to preserve the’ reputation of our store, we must have well
dressed attendants about it!” . F : ;

Now here is the problem which we wish some of tho wise men
of New York to solve, and if it can be done, we are sure that we
will have more honesty among us. ;

How can a boy who earns three dollars a week, give two to his
mother, use fifty cents for car fares, and saves the other fifty for
urgent cases, wear clothes that are really handsome, and without
darns or patches ? ss

We condemn dishonesty when ever we find it, but when ever
we hear that a clerk or shop boy hastaken any thing, we can
not refrain from thinking, perhaps his employer paid him three
dollars @ week, and then required that he should wear
clothes, ; Mary E. LAMBERT,

OS
Mrs. Mary J. Hotmes’s great story, “MILDRED, THE
CHILD OF ADOPTION,” will soon be republished in our

columns. It originally appeared in the NEw YORK
WEEKLY, over fourteen years ago.

 

How SHE DOES Ps.

a She-concludes to take a little trip to visit dear Mrs
brown. z :

_ She will be gone only a day or two, and need not take
mucl: with her. “Only a few necessary things in a satchel,
‘The work of packing begins aboul a week or ten day
before she sets:forth.. She begins early, 80 that she may
be sure and not forget anything. Ri

Each article must be wrapped up separately ina piece
of newspaper, lest it get crushed or sviled. It takes ten
newspapers to properly envelop all those “few necessary
things’? which she. carries in that satchel.

Wien the bag is. so full that it- takes two pérsons to

I lock it, she finds she has forgotten’ a trifle or two, whicli

must ‘go any how.
There'is her toothbrush, and also her rubbers and bottle

Of Florida water, anda night dress, and. an ink stand,

and a dressing sacque, and @ lunch, and several other.
things. , :

Well, never mind, she cin put those up in parcels, and
her escort— wretched man!—can carry them. Of course

he’l.be delighted .to make himself of .use! For what

should a-lady take a manalong unless he makes himseif
useful ?: What, indeed?’ He is only im the! way, prevent-
ing her from flirting with. the» geod-lo¢king’ Conductors,
and from ‘accepting civilities from the gallant gentiemen
travelers she may encounter, eat ; ;

She puts.the rubbers into a bundle with the Florida
Water; and the night Gress, and. the toothbrush, “and ‘the
ink standin company; and ‘the sacque, and the lunch
together; and then She fihds that she must have her water-
proofand an umbrella, in case it should rain; and the
Waterproof goes into straps, and the umbrella into its
case, and then her,camel’s hair redingote is tucked in, on
topof the waterproof, and she believes her luggage is
ready. Ob, she forgot her sun hat, and the novel she is
reading! and those articles are added to the pile..,

The train leaves at precisely 9-30—at 9-15 she is. before
the glass pulling down the short curls under. the brim of
her new hat, and wondering if there will be time to curl
over the litle wisp of hair on her ‘left temple. “It is so
damp this morning she is sure it will never stay in curl
until she gets there, and dear Mrs. Brown’s son Clariie is
such an admirer of curis!
Premptory call of:

“Carriage at the: door, ma’am!
up!?

Oh, dear! what does make hackmen in such @ hurry?
Whiere’s her vail? and her gloves, and her parasol?

The escort, meanwhile, has converted himself into a

pack mule, and staggering underthe weight of her few
necessary things, is trotting his toes impatiently on the hall
oil cloth, and wondering what does make women so long
gelling ready! ,
She comes down at Iast,.all smiles and apologies. With
her foot on the carriage step, she discovers that she must
have her crochet needle, and some worsted, and the pat-
tern of cousin Fanny’s tidy.

She goes back for them, and takes a parting glance in
a Jalttor, aud hurries out with the worsted trailing be-

112d her.

She buttons her cuffs in the carriage, and gets her es-
cort to put the crochet needle in his pocket, where present-
ly it wi work loose and stab him_in the region of the pit
of his stomach; and. she gets on her vail and feels in her
pocket to see ifshe has got her porte-monnaie, and by
that time they are at tiie depot.

The train is there before them.

scant time! Hurry

There is no time for
The escort stumbles on board as best he can,
making a futile attempt to assist hiscompanion. He drops
some packages ashe makes his advent into the car, for
the train starts just as he reaches the door.

The treacherous paper bursts, and the Junch, and the
Florida water, and the dressing sacque rollon the floor,
and one passenger facetiously remarks tO another that he
guesses tat manis going to camp meeting! he has got
his rations, and his whisky, and his night shirt along!
Night shirt, indeed! That thing flounced with ‘red and
yellow, and tied up in front with bunches of red ribbon!

He picks up the sandwiches and doughnuts asif they
were counterfeit money, and huddles that sacque out of
sight as quick as possible.
eae looks on, and wonders why men will ‘be so awk-

ar :

The bundles all fixed, they settle themselves on a seat
together. She wants the window open. It is so close in
the.car. He opens it. Then she wants it shut because
the cinders get in her eyes.. He shuts it. .

. Then; won't he please count her bundles, to make sure
that they are aH there? He counts. Then she must have
the window openagain. Sheissuffocating. He opensit.
Then she wonders if this is really the 9:30 train. Yes, he
telisher., Is he sure thatit is the right road? -Quite sure.

Does he think the boiler will be likely to burst? Oh, not
It never burst in the world! It is the safest boiler on
record! * ’ , i ;

Then these railway car nuisances, the peddler boys, be-
gin to come, .She pities them, they look s0 threadbare,
and she buys something every time, oralges, apples, pea-
nuts, bags of popped corm, photographs, prize stationery
packages, and*so.on. Her’escort has to find pockets to
putthemin. ~ . :

‘Aud by, this time the bundles have to.be looked over,
and just as she has settled herself to read, they reach their
journey’s end, and the difficult process of disembarking
takes place, : : :

We draw a curtain over it. Every gentleman, who has
ever traveled witl a lady, knows all about it!

KatvE THORN,

sav “Mad Marriage. by Mrs.. May Agnes

*

* * + ? :

 

the secolids in @ projected duel between tie prince’ and

5

Fleming, will soon be commenced,

ever, sufficed to disperse the mob instantly. Prince |,

Yet the rancor of militarism and of

We glance at the life-picture before us, and see the most

ments; and filled with rare fabrics. The price of one

4 spirit yet, ah, in this etherial world?’ Allow mé'to take the lib-

a ———__—_______________

 

1SSSLIMMENS’S

BOARDING HOUSE.

BY MRS, MARK PEABODY.

NO. XVIII.—EPISTOLARY FROM, NEWPORT, :

DeaR DoRA!—AslIam confined to my apartment by . very
untortunate ‘accident, so also by being too indisposed to go out,
I have plenty of time in which to write you, asI promised. This
is the eleventh day of my arrival in Newport, and about: time
for me to be'starting for home, for two reasons, ‘one of ‘which is;

t

referred in the "beginning, (T
suppose you are curious to know what kind of a aime I Nave had?
and though much of at has equaled my most sanguinary antici-
pations, there have been a few drawbacks to that unalloyed hap-
piness which is never ours on earthy and swinichif will confide to
‘}:you, Dora, on account of your uncommon discretion tor a wo-
man, never talking about what’: make other folk trouble+so
different from that Green and those Pea-Podds; whom T detest,
as Well as many other Pennyville people. P r
ing, scandalizing place, I think Pennyyiile will hold its owmwith
the best. I never ht a little innocent box of pearl-powder,
or dropped a remar MEpout a nee that it Wasn’t seattered:
to the four winds all over that village. PMS 2A

“One sickly sheep infests the flock,
And poisons all the rest.” °

Mehitable Green is that. “sickly sheep,” to speak in a meteor—
a talking old maid, a pest to the whole community, But what
on earth I’m writing.abont her for, when I’ve got other topics
for my pen, is more thanI know. _. # ; '
Yes, Dora, l was robbed; before I had even reached Boston, T
was robbed of my beautiful watci: that I bought the time I ex-
pected to marry “A. de M.,” and fifty Oe ae bills, which
were in my purse, If you’d’see the man that done it, you'd have
no more contidencé in mortality, Iwas certain he was a min-
ister ot the gospel. He was one of the most respectable-looking
persons I ever met; and, although being a stranger, I, of course,
endeavored to keep him at a distance, ete when he offered me
his protection in the cars, I did not feel the least. hesitancy in
accepting it. _We even exchanged cards at his earnest, solicita-
tion, But. he?ll suffer for it. Pye the corisolation to know that
he’s sate in jail, and I’ve got my watch back too; the money will
have to go. He’ll have the comfort to find that some women
cannot be imposed upon with immunity—not only robbing and
deceiving them, but taking their cards to keep in the vest-pocket
of a gambler and a pickpocket. I acted with my usual prompti-
tude in immergencies. I didn’t rest till I’d got the polite on the
track, and telegraphed to New York and other places, and they
knew him by the graphical description I gave of. him, and he was
arrested with my wateh,and my name engraved on it, in his
possession, so they. sent me the watch by exp ; and I shall be
i very careful, going home, to, keep all my money in my bosom,
and pot to lot anybody, not the bishop himself, or the President,
sit on the sane seat. IL jas one of the sweetest moments of my
existence when I heard of his arrest, If there’s anything I pag
myself upon, its my discrimination, and I hate to be fooled. A
person that can wind other people around their finger as easily
as Lean don’t reiish getting Wieks played,on them, ’specially by
sharpers,and impostors upon the community. . :
Pye madé some, capital out of that fifty dollars besides, total
loss as it was, for itis Gufrénily reported in Newport, and espe-
cially al the -hotel where I :m_siopping, that I lost a thousand
dollars in money anda set of diamonds worth fifteen hundred,
besides a dratt for a large Amount, ypon which I have | ordered
the payment stopped, It li e
great many .persors introducing themselvesio me.. {had the’
advantage of appéaing upon the stage as a lioness immediately,
besides the felicitics it afforded me for circulating the, fumor ot
my being an heiress, dJést, ow it got started that I Nad_ lost $0
much, I, of course, can’t say, but 1 have not contradieted it. The
old agate that ‘’a rolling stone gathers no moss” -ain’t true with
regard to stories; they roll_up faster ‘than a ballot snow, and I
1 shouldn't ; wonder it, before I left this place, it was, currently re-
ported to be.ten thousand dollars and enough jewelry..to set up a’
jewelry store, You know I never was troubled ‘with diffidence,
and, being used to dving business for myself, T wasn’t a bit'em-
barrassed to arrive here , without an escort. I thought it fallacy
to take just as good a room as { durst to, which Idid. The very
evening of my arrival at this louse, there ‘was.a hop, as they
term it, and I made up my mind to attend, if I did haye'to enter
the ball-room hanging, meteorically speaking, upon my own
arm. I wore my new w-g—don’t let George see this letter—and
the curls were beautiful. I used’a quarter of a box of Mean-Fun,
and spent. jest an hour on my eyebrows and clieeks, besides
taking a tablespoo! of colognue-water to make my eyes bright.
T took out all my Ud and looked at them over and over. My
choice He eee the white satin and the white flouncea
mull with the rushes. geapetty decided npon the mull. I wore
five starched petticoats Over.a {ull-sized, panier-skirt, and the
flounces set out sweetly. My waist didn’tlook bigger than a churn-
dasier, and was @ ed by abilue festus, Your pearl set
capped, the climax, Iam certain} never appeared so well,
which imparted an airy gayety to my spirits, and enabled me to
enter the ball-+room with a fairylike vivacity. I was conscious
of becoming the “sinecure of neighboring eyes;” everybody
looked at me and whispered, and looked at me again. I over-
heard some of their commentaries. “She doesn’t appear at all
depressed by her loss; she must be very wealthy, to bear it with
such composure,” saidone. “hose pearls are quite pretty; £
‘suppose she Wears them because all her diamonds were stolen.
Did you hear abeutit?” said another. “Whom can I get to intro-
duce me ?” I heard a lovely yours gentleman inquiring, in tbe
most agitated manner. “Oh, she’s so exclusive she knows no-
body, and so independent she goes wherever she’s 2 mind to,”
was the answer. “I Know we should have a game time, if we
could only get introduced,’’ said he, again. Jest then he met
my eye, andIhadagood notion to bow and smile, but con-
cluded I’d better seem more reversed at’first, even il I didn’t feel
so. I wasjest wishing, with ali my heart, that I did know some-
body that would ask me'to polka, when I saw the ladies hopping
and flying around like a parcei of robins learning to use their
legs and wings, now on one foot, now on Vother, and then flut-
tering round and round so delightfully, supported by the ele-
gantest menlTever beheld, with mustaches, and gaiters, and
spy-giasses suspended around their necks—I was jest wishing
aud feeling as it { could not remain in my seat another instance,

other is the aecident to which

 

 

 
 
 

my

my means are giving out, owing pony to being robbed, and the

Por a mean, gossip: |!

thas served as a very good subject for a |

|} great -dealof sin and wickedness at watering-places.: And be

_Lintended to be sorry for it when I done it, as soon as I hadva

~aist THE NEW YORK WEEKLY. t=

 

 

 

oyly charm ip tyh ;
Tunderstand something of feminine objections, and that I will
insure you against accident. We will venture in but a little
ways; L will support you; the bloom of your and the beauty
of your curls shall not suffer in the least. I will take care of
tiem. Go, prepare yourself; you will look charmingly in a Turk-
ish bathing costume.” ' ; ; 1

I wanted to try it so much: that I allowed myself. to be per-
suaded. ‘I entered one of those shanties, or camps, or whatever
they call ?em, and got'ready. My mind misgave me as.I set foot
in the water; but he assured me so firmly of his protection that I
allowed myself to be led.an. There was hundreds of people all
aboutus, giggling, and shivering, and: frolicking, and some of
?em duckingiand Jetting the turf ro)lover them asif they were
so many hes. Weonly went ou alittie ways, for:I wasn’t
very firm on my feet, andi wasafraid« xe of those big waves would
come up too close tous; but either Morton is very deceitful, or
else the ocean is, for, just as I was; stauding there lookimg at the
rest, and feeling the ‘pressure of his arm about my waist, and
oniy a little over knee-deep in water, along cume a:monstrous
roller—and the next thing I knew I was’ gasping, and. flounder-
ing, and smothering, Ithought Iwas drownding. | Inever had
such tar ia but once previously, and that was when I took that

‘sen. ; i ‘ 4 ; i i i ;

» When I came to my senses a little, Mr. Morton was siping my
face with his handkerchief, and, of ceurse, taking off every speck
of artiticial there was on it.) | gts) ‘ '
y sorry, Miss Slimmens,” ‘said he, “‘that you've got
wet.: I'd no.idea that’ breaker was so extensive. It almost took
me off my feet, and I’m an old bather.” «i.

But I didn’t realize a word he said. I felt aeold sensation
about my head; I put»up my hand—oh, Dora, imagine my emo-
tion—my w-g was gone. . 4 : ‘

At the instance I made the discovery, the turf came rolling
back again, and there; upon its:foaming crest, floated my béauti-
ful, my beloved, my expensive w-g. i

*Save ati” I shrieked. ( | i ie wt ig

Adonis made a lurch for it—but it was too tate; it was gone—

{+ ; 4

er 5a é i { j
Doubtless at this moment it is wildly tossing upon the cruel
Atlantic, saturated ‘with! brine; its glossy: ringlets torn intoa
million ‘separate hairs, while Isit-here writing to you’ and de-
ploring its loss. 1h Bai }

That isn’t the::worst of it; either) I looked about—horror of
horrors!—eyery one was looking at-us and: laughing, even the
children. L&now that I must be:a ridiculous figure. ;

“Takeme out; get me back into the’ camps, quick!” I ex-
claimed, and | Adonis-it’s second mature to call: him by that}
name—assisted me ashore, looking as grave asa judge.

dressed as quick as I could; but» when I came to tie that
charming hat, so becom!ng to my long curls, upon my head, I
felt that my giory was departed. : Yet I wasimpelled to go to m
hotel, and enter it in broad daylight in the face,and eyes of
hundred staring men, If ever I realizedithe worth of a va'l, it
was then, «I would ‘have given all thesmoney in my trunk for a‘
yard of brown barege, but I had nothing of the kind along with

me, 7 ea ha

The fright, and the embarrassment, and everything, has made
me faily sick; besides; Ivcan’t stir:‘from my: room! until my hair-
dresser has completed another, which he is doing as fast as he
can.. Several’iadies have knocked at my door to inquire after
my health, but I have not admitted:a soul: My only consolation
under this afflicting dispensation is that my admirer, Mr. cpr
kins, the widower, was not among the spectators~at jeast, I do
not think he was. He was not on the beach, and fromithe hur-
ried glance I cast the\windows ‘and  piazzas, as entered our ho-
tel, I concluded he was taking his noon nap. I trust Pshall be
myself again by to-morrow, and that something decisive will
‘then e place. + : in ’ to et
‘Imust teave here by the day after, as my funds will be ex- |.
hausted by thatiperiod./ So you may expect me to follow my let-

‘Miss Slimméns, you.are calied upen'to welcome, do not be sur-
prised; curiouser things have happened, Pull Caturah’s hair if
sheidon’t: mind you. . Tell Mr. Bethuen I’m convinced there’sa

sure that Susan bakes that cake, and frosts it. Don’t let George
seé this letter.’ For a brief space-yet, your affectionate friend,
rites *Tevt vs i ALVIRA /SLIMMENS.

P. S.+Don’t tell Mr. Bethuen about my dancing the polka; it’s
searcely .consistent’ with my position asia professor, and I sup- \
pose I hadn’t ought to;:but the temptation was irresistible, and if
the folks at home don’t get-to talking and scandalizing about it, |
there’ll be no great -harm done, ‘I’m going to repent of it assdon
as I get married, and settle down, and get things off my minda
little, so’s I Gan have an opportunity to compose my reflections.

good chance

P. P. S—I hope Caturah hasn’t got into them purserves on, the |
top-shelf of the pantry. Keep an eye on her, please.

 

‘THE LADIES’ WORK-BOx.

Our New CATALOGUE.—The new Illustrated Catalocue of the
New YORK WEEKLY Purchasing Agency, 212 pages, will be ready
Julyl5. Sent to any address, prepaid, on receipt of ten cents.

 

 

“Mrs, N. Mayndon.’ If you follow the present style of
making combination suits; you will: have: no difficulty in
getting @ handsome One out of your material by ‘simply
getting a few yards of gray mohair in solid color, & shade,
or, two, darker than the stripe in your goods. With this
gray you can trim your skirt, and overskirt, and, make a_
basque to your ‘suit, the Jatter garment: being trimmed
with the stripes. Some very handsome costames in plain

  

 

ich vowareJagking. Allow me to Whisper that

ter up pretty close. If it should be a Mrs. Hopkins, instead of a |’ ter seconds less’ than the
rs

 

A Home for the Homeless,
Six:years ago a member of one of the Baptist churches
in Brooklyn, comparatively a poor man, proposed to give
$5,000 to found a home ‘for the destitute and homeless
members of the Baptist churches in tat city, and on Long
Island, if others would take up and complete.tlic work.
Another member of the same church gave sixteen city

}lots on which to’ build the ‘proposed edifice.’ These lots}

are now valued at $25,000. , A charter has been ptocured,
aboard of directors created, other subseriptions secured
to, the amount ‘of $60,000, and the building has been com-
‘menced, eligibly logated in the city of Brooki) i. Both
the gentlemen who began the work have since died. The
hard times, and the great pressure on the churches for!
funds to aidin all kinds of Christian work, have very
much retarded this noble undertaking. im 7 fo

There are various institutious of a similar character
now in operation, but none that occupies the field this is
intended ito fill. And the great number of homeless poor.
in our large dities, and even in the churches, wholare not:
comfortably cared for, makes every such additional char-;
ity a special blessing. Three classes peculiarly need them;|
the aged and infirm homeless, widoivs with dependent |
children, and young persons, especially sewing women |
and'girls, temporarily disabled ‘by sickness, and. destitute |
of homes or friends to aid them. No form of charity can’
be truer to the Gospel, or more pledsing to Him, who has_
said: “Inasmuch as ye have doneit to one of: the least
of tliese My brethren, ye have done it unto Me.” ©

If any one who reads this statement would esteem it a
privilege to’ aid this home, by $1 or $1,000, or any other
‘sum, or by any pledge of aid, it would be gratefully re-
ceived on behalf of those whose burdens of sorrow and

care shall be made the lighter by this kindness. Any such
benefactions may ‘be forwarded ‘to Rey. Dr. Hiscox, 131
Willoughby Avenue, Brooklyn, N. Y., or to Francis §S. |
Street, Esq., 31 Rose street, New York, the office of this ©
journal. Ne os ‘ !

;
} }

 

_.. TO, CORRESPONDENTS, .

i ‘ hae : . f srgl® '
BGe GOSSIP WITH READERS -AND_ SON eee |
Apple Pudding.—}st. Ex-President Fillmore died at Buffalo, on
pag 8th of last March. 2d. The whisky crusade was a failure
n Cleveland, Ohio. 3d. a race at Lexington, Ky., on May 12,
Tom Bowling ran a mile and a halt in 2:34 three and a quar-
D recorded time. He continued to
the mile pole, which he
3:27 3-4, seven and a quarte

ched in the remarkable: time of

; ‘ onds less. than the best recor
time, le was op 1:41 3-4, one second less than —
, t
et

OS RE Sas

   
   

the best record. 4th. There’ area number of quite la

which have sprung up on the line of new railroads within

past tliree years.’ We cannot give a list. ‘5th. The most northerly
point of laud reached by Arctic discoverers was in latitude 81
degrees, 35 minutes, by Dr. Hayes ‘and a-companion named —
Knorr, who, after traveling tor seyeral days among ,soft ice,
reaclied a headland on the shores ‘of what he believe to be the
open Polar sea. Having no boat, he’ could proceed no’further,
and was obligéd to return to his vessel, which was frozen in at a
point little north of latitude 78. . Charles Summer was first
elected to the U.S. Senate as a Freesoiler, taking his seat Dec. 1,
1851.. He was re-elected in 1857, 1863 and 1869. He was nevera
member of the House of Representatives, 7th. The average
trip from ‘New York’to Havre is nine days. 8th. The most ex-
tensive salt manuéactories in the United St are in Syracuse,
this State.....5...: Washington Irving and L. L. L.—ist. Warren’s
“Household Physician” is the best work of its kind, published. .
We will send it to you for $6. 2d. Parker’s ‘Aids to English Com-
position’? will prove very serviceable to you. We will forward it
for SL25...., +s Wm. Macartney.—Your sketch is well written, but
as a Whole is somewhat-crude. Its ebief fault is a lack‘of inge-
nuity as to plot and construction. It will) be published’ in the
Mam Monthly Reader, or the MS. will be returned ifiyou de- ©
sire it.,.....Subscriber, Ozford.—It is impossible to learn to write
with facility in the time named........... Notledge, C. K.—In the
event of a person dymg intestate, leaving no heirs but a mother
‘and brother, the “estate is divided equally between them. The
same rule applies where there is more than one brother 6r sister
—the mother shares equally with the others...... 4, uses Otto. -The
various submarine telegraph cables, pow in operation between
this country and. Europe were each in turn so additionally
strengthened in manufacturing (hat it was almost impossible for
them to break during the process of laying them, when such an
‘aceident would have been most likely to occur. The machinery
for paying out has:also been so improved that little or no strain

 

and striped silks are made in this manner. Yi
dress as is most becoming to you. The imitation hair.
will not make a nice smooth braid, Why not get.one of
real hair! The NEw YORK WEEKLY Purchasing Agency
can get you one to cost any where from $5 to $10. Your
own haircam be arranged in a little Knot on the back
top of your liead, and will serve to make the false braid
securely fastened, ; 4s
“Marie Norland.’ You want an expensive suit for sum-

 

is felt Uuring the process, sufficient slack being allowed for the
cable to find its own bed on the bottom. The cable of 1865 is ea-
Sibie of bearing its own wWeigiit in eléven miles’ depth of water,
so that should it be suspended from point to point, owing to —
different elevations and depressions on the bottom of the ocean,
it ently strong to bear the’strain its own weight causes..
Issy Becker.—The book is out of print......:...Abviah.—All letters
are destroyed as soon as answered, tberefore we cannot give the ©
address:....... onographer.—The wages of shorthand reporters
vary with their skill and the manner and place of employment.

 

mer: wear, suitable: for shopping, visiting, traveling, or

 

when—oh, Dora, whom should I belold at the other side of the
ball-room but—guess who. You never could guess if you should
strive for a wee Tactually turned faint and thonght I should
go over, when I realized wlio it was, Everything got dark, and
the musie buzzed like a spinning-wheel; but I got over itina
minute, and then my, how mad I was! My blood boiled in my
veins! I forgot the heavenly part, everything except that hor-
id Jetyers you reme ef it a—‘dear old girl!” Yes,

 
   
 
 
 
 
  
      
 
 

 

Adeénis, or Da Mountiort either, bac Amert D. ‘ton—aud pretty
sdou he lookee back again, and stared right straight at me; and
‘T presume hesaw how ‘nfad J was, and Lihat I was going to have
him arrested for en:bellisiment, faisé’ pretenses, and breach of
promise. I looked him stfaight ih the eyés—oh, Dora, do you
remember what beautiful eyes he had ?—without fincining, and
isaid to nmayself, “*‘Old enough to know better? Ha, young man,

ou’ll get your pay for that, now!” when what should le do but
jest take tliat other gentleman by the arm, and come across the
room, and hold out his hand to meé with the’sweetest’ smile, and
Say, as‘cool as acucumber: ‘ :

“My friend Miss Slimmens, is it possible this is you?’ I am de-
‘lighted to meet you here, in this congenial scene. How are you?
Not married, I suppose? Never’ been able to meet a suitable
erty of presenting to you my varticular friend, Mr. Bowser. He
was ‘dying to make your ucquadintance, and was very much
‘pleased ‘when lie learned from me that you andI were old sriends,
my dear Miss Slimmens,” . cares

“T felt as if I should *choke ‘with surprise and ‘rage; andT
couldn’t hardly He'inad at him either, he looked so innocent and
nnconscious, so I just bowed, and was wondéring ‘ what 6n eartir
to do or say—whether to rise up there ‘and ‘cry out “Thiet!” or
to pass it by till to-morrow, wliich would ge him a’chance to
escape—when he bent over and Whispered in my ear: :

“My dear triend, let bygones be*bygones! You ‘don’t -want it
understood here that you are a retired milliner, nor just how you
came to lose seven hundred dollars by me; you'’ve’come here to
make a match; Pit help you. ‘Eknow everybody and everything,
and allabout them. The young gentiemaii I just introduced to
youisarich young Southerner; all the girls are dying for him.
¥ou will be the most envied of ‘your sex. You say nothing, and
Vl say nothing, and it'll be just the thing, ‘Ican get you'a large
circle of admirers in less’n two days.” *

Before I could reply, Mr. Bowser was pressing me'to dance,
and [was ‘standing onthe floor beforel knewit. He danced!
splendidly. I enjoyed it'excessively, inspite of my rheumatiz,
atid atter it was over, Iwas introduced toseveral others, and,
before the evening was ended, I had the gratification of ‘feeling,
Dora, that Miss Slimmens, of Pennsville, was the belle of the
ball, and observed of allobservers. I retired to my room with-
out a’single regret for the robbery, and m such a state of flustra-
tration tuat sleep did not visit my pillow till‘broad daylight.

The next day I made more acquaintances. Some ot the ladies
were very polite, and consoled with nie for my loss, which I told
them, carelessly was of no consequence, aS my jewelry was not
the gifts of friends, except the watch, whieh i siouid be glad to
get back. I found myself getting along so well, and had already
the ease of the pickpocket to attend to, 1made up my mind it
was fallacy to let’ Mr. Morton alias{de Mountfort) go, and not
have bim arrested for a swindler—at least, for the present; and,
on the whole, I’m rather glad I took the course’ did. With so
many chances thrown right in my face and eyes, as it were, I
preferred keeping ita profound sécret that Td ever bleached
bunnits for a living. '

You know I always had aremarkably' genteel air, which has
been in my fayor; and the way I’ve pulied and hauled Susan and
Caturah around has béen Of advantage to me in ordering the
waiters, who are killingly attentive, in expectancy of What Pil
give em, which won’tbemuch, if they only knew it‘ I goto
the table: after almost. everybody is there, and I never tail to *
create a sensation. Isee it out of one eye, though I don’t pur-
tend to. In the early partof the day I generaily'pass my time
in the reception-rooms; and I always have a book, and géuerally
a gold pencil and a piece of paper with me, and I adopt a pen-
sile air, slitable to a literary person. as wéll a8 something pecu-
liar in my dress, as singularity is‘cousidered a’mark of talents.
The gentlemen are very fond of conversing witli me on intel-
jeetual topics. However, asyou are not literaty, Dora, I sup-
pose you don’t care to hear. ‘he politest persion in tae house to
me has been Mr. Morton; ‘he treats me with the greatest rever-
ence before everybody; and says and does the nicest ‘things.
He’s taken me out to ride twice, and we’ve been down onthe
beach every day to see tlhe feminine portion of ‘the visitors bath-
ing; but I wouldn’t gointhe water myself, for reasons—you
know, Dora. :

“Don’t think, from what I’ve seid, that ve forgiven ‘him; I
hayen’t, and I never shail. ‘Iam only acting from fallacy, and
so is he, and we understand each other. The ecquaintance I
think most of is quite another person. He’s a widower; I should
say about thirty-five; rather small, but dresses ‘more sweetly
than any otlier man in Newport; his dress is exceptionable, from
top to toe, and -he handles his spyglass like a person ‘‘to the
manger born.” ‘the only impertection in his appearance isa
slight, a very. slight imp, Which I suppose’ is rheumatiz, and
which prevents his dancing, which is a great pity. I’ve under-
stood he has no children, and is worth thirty thousand dollars.
I suppose he reckons I’m worth fuil‘as much, and sha’n’t take
any particular pains to-undeceive him. -He hasn’t actually de-
clared himself yet, but I’m expecting every day when he will;
at least, as'soon as he learns that ‘Iam about to leavé, which I
must do right away, Dora, forit costs even more than I reck-
oned; what witli impudent chambermaids that won’t hook up a
lady’s dress without they get a half a dollaratime for‘it, anda

uarter for a:gluss of 1ce-water, and a'dollar a day to the hair-

resser, who differs the arran: nt of my w-g (burn this when
you get through, if you~ ever do, which is doubtful), each time,
and makes it just like a real head of hair.

It takes money, and nothing but a good match can. repay my.
outiay. However, [think the sea-airis doing me , and i
trust soon to get over the lingering remains of the exterminator.
If.he don’t declare: jimself before I leave, I shall invite him to

visit Pennyville; though I’d rather the-matter would be settled
before, ashe would see, then, just whatI was worth. What
would “you say, Dora, to my coming home'a bride? Poor Tim-
othy Bethuen would scarcely stand the shock. . Be prepared for
the best; and tell Susan to bake some pound-cake. :

But speaking of the hair-dresser, and my w-g, and Mr. Morton,
and bathing, brings me to the accident which I spoke of in the
beginning, and to the most serial misfortune which has, befell me
since I lettihome. Oh, Dora, it makes me sick to think of it.
. Just. when I was getting along so swimmingly. .f I°d have stuck
to my first. resolutions, it never-would have oceurred. I said you
would understand that Thad reasons for resisting albinduce-
ments-to go a bathing in the turf. Of course, you; being ac-*
quainted with the little secrets of the feminine toilet, know it
would have very dilatory effect upon paint, false ringlets, ete.,
togetthem wet. ididn’t think I should come out of’ the trial
quite as glowingly as the young girls, with red cheeks and plenty
of their.own hair blowing about, that laughed and frolicked, as
independent as fishes, all around. Mr. Morton otten solicited
me to venture, and I always told: him I was teo much of a cow-
ard. Well, yesterday, we was standing watching the rest, and
he said to me, so persuadingly: :

“Come, my dear Miss Slimmens do try it. . There’s nothing like
it for renewing the blood and making people get fat—good,:sub-

‘trimmed with rows of colored ribbons in scarlet atid biue.

home use. Any of the cheaper grades ‘of camel’s hair,
poplin, mohair, or de bege, will be useful and appropriate.
You can buy sucii suits already made for from. $15 to $35,
according to quality of material and making.

“Nina. Any of the pew basques will look::well upon
you. The coat shaped basque is now very fasaionable,
and can be worn with élavorately trimmed’ sxirts and
overskirts, The trimming on basque should, be very
simple, and may consist of merely binding and, buttons.

“LT. Agnes Kent.? Thedress should be of white; skirr
short and fall; French waist fulled into a belt; half flow
ing sleeves. Over this, wear a tinyapron of Swiss muslin

Wear a high cap also of muslin, garnitured. with the
ribvon. Your stockings shouid, be in, stripes, and shoes
high heeled slippers with bows. This is a very. pretty
costuine for a'young girl. ‘We cannotexactly describe the
cut of a court train, but can’ procure you the pattern of
one if you desire it. Price 50 cents. ;

“Lucey Bruster.?’—The corsets, such as you desire, that is the
‘hand-woven globe corsets,” the letter “KE”? with. 96. bones, em-
broidered and silk floss over every bone, will cost you a pair,
The handsomest quality of these corsets are marked *M.” and
have 136 bones, and cost $3.50 per pair, ,. The cheapest are $1.50 a
pair, and the other, qualities cost $1.75, $2, and, $2.25 a
pair, The other Globe corsets are in great demand; Globe x
cost $1.50. .Globe, xx $2, and Globe A. 1s $2.25. Yes, the Work-
Box can indorse them as being good fitting. of good material, and
handsomely made. The parasols come.in all qualities, and range

for from $3 to $5... We should think, gray would be a desirable
color for you, and that is a. color that can be worn with a dress
of almost any color. “It gray is not desirable then get .black,
brown, or purple. - is y

“C. E, B.”—By allmeans put your little boy in short,clothes

at once. Six months even in the winter,time is quite long enough’
to furnish a little one with a useless mags of, skirts, Make litle
Saque or yoke dresses.. Youcan find many desirable patterns in
the catalogue. Little sacques,or.capes of matseilles or pique,
will be pretty for covering. A Normandy cap will be appropriate
for its summer head gear., A little straw hat would be suitable,
but it is not soft enough for the tender head ofa little babe, un-
léss it is removed When the child wishes to go to sleep... The price
of suitable patterns for chiid’s complete outfit you will see under
the illustrations in the catalogue, . In wriling for patterns be sure
and mention the age of chiid, and if it is large or smail for its
age. For children. over a year old we require .measures as well
as ages. : ; :
“Anna E.—Is rather stout, and wants a costume appropriate
for graduating. “‘A’skirt trimmed all the way Up to the waist,”
that you suggest, should by no,means be worn by a short, thick
lady, for this style is only becoming to tall, graceiul figures. Let
the material.of your dress be white organdie muslin. ,.Make the
skirt after pattern 3,237, price 35 cents. This skirt has six gores,
and is demi-train.. Trim the bottom of skirt with four narrow
ruffies of the material, letting the ruffles ¢xtend all around the
skirt. Above have on. the front width perpendicular puffs or
shirrs edged with ruffs, and let them reach from the ruffles to
the waisiband. . The overskirt should be open in front, and in the
back may reach to the ruffles of underskirt. Trim with double
ruffle of material, and Tet it be slightly puffed in the back. Your
waist or jacket may consist of perpendiculir puffs and inserting,
sleeves half flowing, and if you want other trimming besides the
ruffles, you can use on them an edge of Valenciennes, with effect.
Satin is too heavy to use upon such a dress.

“Norma Miles.’—We have trequently described and mentioned
the price of the “Complete” sewing Case, but as you say you
cannot find the papers containing price, etc., of the “case,” we
again give the information. It contains everything necessary to
repair the wardrobe, in a small and convenient case, thimble,
needles, black silk, white cotton, buttons, hooks aud eyes, besides
other things. The price of this “case” is only $1. Tie NEW
YorK WEEKLY Purchasing Agency can supply all demands tor
such articles.

“M. Y. L.’—If your complexion is good, you cantrim your
white chip hat with any of the new delicate shades of ribbon or
silk. ‘Feathers are still’ worn, and some of the most beautiful
fiowers you can imagine, A style which is becoming to some
faces—particularly so to young, fair and full faces—is called the
“Marie Stuart.” ‘This hat basa round crown of medium hight,
while the brim is depressed infront, and upturned ai'the sides,
and is capable of ‘muclr decoration. The front can be filled in
with bows of lace and ribbon, and a jet or steel ornament. Lace
or ribbon must pass around the crown, and bows and ends adorn
the back. Under ore side of the curved rim a knot of ribbon
should be placed, and a cluster and spray of flowers can trim the
other side. ‘The cap border passing about the head should be
of plaited crepe tissue. ' A popular hat for misses and little giris
is a sailor hat of straw, with a low, flatcrown, and a wide rim
roiled up at the back. The ribbon band about the crown termi-
nates under a bow with floating ends cut in points, ana finished
with tassels? If you ‘buy the trdme you can easily constructia
hat after the following model: The’ rim should be covered and
bound, and the lace crown gathered on the edges and sewed to
position. A band’of silk or velyet: may hold it in its place, and:
& wreath of flowers atid leaves’should pass entirely around the
crown. Under the rim may be‘a plaiting of some becoming
shade of silk, and the hat’ may be worn either with or without

 

Poa

ies. . ue
“Creole."—=If you were very rich, then you would scarcely need
the assistance of the Work-Box, for in that event you could go
directly to a dressmaker, or send your order on to New York, or
somé other fashionable city, which now you cannot afford todo.
To make a full suit you will require from eighteen to twenty
yards of material. Get something in the line of de bege, or ‘a cheap
summer fabric that does not require washing, and can be bought
for about 25 cents per yard. Trim the skirt with a bias ruffle,
headed witly shirrs. ‘For polonaise use pattern No. 3,332, price 35
cents. ‘This you can trim with'sid® piaitings of the material, bat
we need not give the tull description, as that may be found upon
the pattern, printed under the illustration of the garment when
compieted! There are other ‘patterns in the catalogue which
you may like better. :
“Black Eyes.’’—All letters intended for this department should
be addressed thus: ‘‘Work-Box, NEw YORK WEEKLY Office, 27,
29 and 31 Rose street, New York City.” ‘Foy '$40 we can send you
aw handsome suit of black alpaca or mohair. We'can get them to
' cost from: $25 to $50, and ‘even higher if ‘other trimming than the
material is usedjbut the suits ranging in price from $25 to $35
are really quite good enough for any One. The Beaver Mohair is
the handsomest matertalot ‘the kind now to be found. This fabric
is in glossy black,‘and is evenly threaded, will make up as stylish-:
ly as silk, and weats' splendidly; even ‘exposure to dampness or
rain dees not destroy the silken luster, nor’ cause the goods to
shrink.» We'can get you this! material to'cost 60, 75, 80, 90 cents,
$1, $1 25 and $1 50 per yard. ‘The! qualities costing 75 centsand
$l really quite fine ‘enough for service, and iook just as well
as te higher grades, when handsomely made‘up, : The American
silk we can buy! for:you at $2a yard.: It ‘is really excellent to
wear, and makes up handsomely, but you’must remember that
» American silk has not'the finish or tuster of the imported article.
Asuit already made ‘can cost anywhere from $75 to $100, ac-
cording to quality of material used and the trimming.’ It cer-
tainly will be cheaper for you to:send to the New YORK WEEKLY
Purchasing Agency for the materials ani patterns, and then
make your suits yourself, for dressmaking costs a gréat deal in

 

 

stantial flesh, Sea-bathing is famous for fattening folks; it is the

DPE, 36 tee rpenter.\—John Howard Payne, the author ot “‘Home,
Sweet Home,” was an American actor and dramatist, born in
New York, June 9, 1792. While-at college his father failed in bns-
iness, and the son went upon the stage, making his debut as
“Young Norval” at the Park Theater, in this. city, Feb. 24, 1809.
He payee, successfully in the leading American cities, and
in 1813 went to England, where he remained for twenty years, ,
with varied success as actor, manager and ‘playwright. “‘Home,
Sweet Home,” was written while he wasin Paris, in a nearly
starving condition, and was produced in the opera of “Clari, the |
Maid ot Milan.” In 1832 he returned tothe United States, and
after several years of literary Jabor, was appoigted U.S. consul
at Tunis, whi he held at the timie of his death, June 5,
1892.5... Abi —Ist. Brown’s improved grammar has
exercises in anal and parsing. We presume this is the edi-
tion the laé@y refers to. We-will send it to you for $1. 2d. Segar
is an English word, commonly used in place of cigar. The
French oword is ‘cigare, the Spanish cigarro. 3d. Good broad-
cloth is worth from $3 to-$5 per yard. 4th. See “Knowledge
Box.” ...:-i..,Bray,—Give up both smoking and chewing.........
Sailor Boy.—The Washington Globe, the official paper of, Congress,
is published every morning following a sitting of either House
of Congress. It has five short-hand. reporters in each House, de-
tailed to give full reports of the entire proceedings. We do not
know the names of those employed in that capacity, our latest
official list being nearly two years old......B. E. V.i—We do not
know where you will get the official Jist of the drawings, unless
you write to the’ managers at Louisville, Ky...... Reader.—
att — is merely rock crystal, and has no value wilatever.
2d. Hardly. i } A ea
The following MSS, have been accepted: “June,” “Cosette to
Marius.,...,.The followin will, appear in the Mammoth Monthly
Reader: “My ‘Aliée,”, “Widow Stubbins’ Cow,” “A Day’in the |
Forest,” “Your Daughter, if You Please,” *‘Horse-Hunter,” ‘‘Gen-

in prices from $1.50 {o $12 each., Very nice qualities cau be bought | 'tle Words,” “Sue and I,” )‘A Duet in Mivair,” “The Ghost of »

Survilliers,” “The Drunkard’s Wife,” ““A Terrible Night,” |‘‘Beau- .
titul May......The. following are respectfully declined: ‘The
Two, Letters,” “‘Irene’s Victory,” ‘“WhatI in thé Streets,”’
“The Harvey Letters,” “‘Maxims for Husbands,” “Drunkard’s
Monument,” “The Two Pictures,” “To Susie,” “*A Jéalous’ Wife,”
“Phe Drubkard’s Soliloquy,” “Star of ‘the West,” “Lite and Ad- |
ventures of a Knowing Une,” \““fhe Triais of a Life,” ‘Zit tor
Tat,”,“Quward.” ; } ied

‘The tollowing will be farnished by the New YORK WEEKLY
Purchasing Agency on receipt of price: Good violin, $4 10 $50;
seven shooter, to load with powder and ball, $8;'suit of- clothes,
$30; japanned tin box, for oil colors, $2 50; oil sketching paper,
75 ceuts per sheet; Sol Smith’s “Theatrical Management,” $2.

 

«

ETIQUETTE DEPARTMENT. :

Sorry Face.—There would be no impropriety ih your

speaking
‘to the young gentleman, while passing in the street, fe fpeakine

you laughed and chatted'ata picnic. The lady always has the
privilege of ucknowledging such an acquaintance. i

Granger.—Ii the wedding is 1 the evening, youwill need a fall
dress suit of black, with a Javender, blue ormmaroon necktie, and
pale lavender or white gloves. If in the morning, a handsome bine
or plum-colored suit would do as well. As brother of {he groom
you mustmake yourself generally agreeable, and talk with the
elderly ladies as well as with: the pretty: young iadies; Your
brother will doubtless tell you whom to escort te the supper
room. Unless you are a groomsman you haye nothing to-do dur-
ing the ceremony but as suggested above, ifina parlor. If in
church, either sit in one of the first pews, orstand near the altar
with other relatives. When the friends goup to congratulate the
bride and groom, yon must be one of the first, and you must kiss
the bride and say, “I consider it a great honor to call you sis-
ter,” while you will shake hands with ;our brother. and say, “I
am delighted to witness this ceremony, and think you a lucky
fellow.” Don’t try to act a part to which you'are a stranger, but
act out your own honest heart, not trying to ape city Manuers,
which wil! not fit you. i :

Winnifred.—It a gentleman, unknown to you, sends his love
through the medium ofa friend's letter, you could acknowledge
the compliment by desiring your friend to thank him for his cor-
diality, but need not return the “love.”

Fwo Sensible Girls.—If your betrethed is absent from the city,
it would hardly be advisable for you to accept the attentions
oe escort of other gentlemen, uuless it had been'so underst

y him. : i ; ti j

Jack Harkaway.—I\st. It is decidedly ,comme il faut for a young
man to congratulate a young lady at her birth-day party, and to
wish her many happy returnsof the day, 2u. Chicago is 899
miles from New York. 3d. Your orthography is very ey.

Feziasv.—True love isnot @ thing to laugh and joke < t, but
asacred emotion, endowed with divine power, and wé honor
your desire to keep yourself true to her who has won your heart’s
devotion, But, friend, seventeen’ years is Very young to think
of Marriage, and we must advise you to continue the! course
which‘ has been‘ marked’ out for you, and win all the laure!s
which six years of hard study will doubtless brig to you, before
you contemplate such'a thing. i

Geo, Dovinse.—ist. It will be optional with
you accept the invitation so cordially bestowed upon you by the
fair friend. Doubtless some gentiemen would delight in sueh
expressions of esteem and love from the lady, but we agree with
you in thinking thema little too much ofa good thing. 2d.
Your writing requires much practice to fit it for either bookkeep-
ing or Copying: 3d. It is always the lady’s place to recognize the |
gentleman first. ae

0. R. J, O.—ist. When other ladies enter a pew where you and
a lady'friend are sitting, 1f they are strangers to her, you need
not offer your seat, but sit further up the pew. 2d. Ahways ask ~
every lady, whether she is your cousin or not, to take your arm
inthe evening when walking in the street.
erossing tiie gentleman should go ahead to make way for the
lady. 4th. In entering a’ house the gentleman follows thé lady.

Love Sick Lad.—Give the lady for a philopena presenta hand-
some picture, book orring. Wecan send either on describing
ta you want, and about how much you'can afford to'pay for —

1 ~ %
Andy Burke.—Iist. Reply thus: “I shall be very happy t6 accept |
your kind invitation.” 2d. If invited to stay to teu, or all night,
Say “Thank you; it will give me great pleasure to remain.”? If ©
not able to do'sosay, “Thank you; I’am much obliged for your
kindness.” 4th: Say “Thank you.” 6th. Say “Miss, wotld you |
be so kind as to favor us with some music?’ 6th. When tongra-
tulated upon aly succe:

arself, whether

SS,
friendly interest.” 7th. When asked, “How''do you

 

for your

do?” reply, “Very well} I thank you,” and say, “How até you ?”
8th! Answer the minister the Same as any else, and #f he has
not called at'your homse, say to his inquiry: “No, Tthink’not.”

; Oo SURE ae tos

 Mrsi H.R. Green.—Piant the tube roses in the open sdil, ina —
‘sunny, hot locality, and water witli liquid ‘manure once'a week. |
Put the silver-edged geranium into the open border, rather |
shady.’ It‘has been kept too wet, which’ nas'made its leaves curl. |
Putthe cactus‘intd pots with one-third ‘bits of mortar, Turn
the pots on’their sides'in the shade. ‘Give no water till October.
Put the cactus on'the top'of the ground. Plant the fuchsia in a
rp d aes for the sumiter, and water at night. You have kept ©
it we ui ‘ gai : 7
. : > @<+—____—___ s

. To News Agents.

 

 

New York, much more than in country places, -

ual

 

Will Mrs. M. A. Wilson, news agent, please send'us het
fall address, town, county, and State? © :

s

 

Xd. In passing a ©

reply, “Tam greatly obliged to you °

 

 

 

BU Segee

 

 

 

eins

 

eo

 

 

am
 

 

waerericomniny

(et Nethe alant

Bae Nia in PG a tee

2

 

aie «

at

 

 

by '
RVoe

, rejoined his aunt.

 

<i) THE NEW YORK WEEKLY. te 5

ee
RES

THE FLOOD-WAIF, =
AN INCIDENT OF THE MILL RIVER DISASTER.

i BY NATHAN D. URNER,

Honor to old Si Skates, of Leeds,
While honor waits on noble deeds!

Collins Graves through the town had flown
With the territle news that the dam was down;
The girls from the silk factory ali had run bgt
Across the bridge—whence only-one, ;

Maria Harding; alive had leapt— 13: 4
And the rest of us had up the hillside crept, - :
When the. waters came down witha rush anda roar, .
Wreck-burdened and wild, from shore to shore.

 

6

The bridze gave way like a bridge of straw,
The factory trembled, and then we saw, ., ‘ '
Midway in the wreck of the tossing stream,
Roof and rafter and broken beam, t }
Old Si Skates clinging, with head just up,
To an old dog kennel, which a half-drowned pup

* Had mompited, and there stood barking shrill
At the howling flood and at us on the hill,
For a moment old Si got jammed. in a ridge

Of drift at the edge of the broken bridge,

‘With his head hither up, and his strong arm flung
*Round the peak of the kennel, and there he hung,
When our ears were assailed by plaintive cries, ;

“And a sight more piteons met our eyes.

'-pwas a rude box-cradie, and in it, upright,
Sat a two-year-old baby, yelling with fright.
. , Afloat.and a-toss in the driftwood torrent,
Just in the midst of the thundering tornent,
The crib was whirling. and:every slide
Threatened to turn it beneath the tide.
Now, the flood was lightning, and boat there was none,
And no boat or boettem beneath the sun ;
Could have lived a minute, if boat there had been,
\'© On the top ef the tide of the choked ravine:
-* But eld Si'saw it;-and, without a pause,’
Dropped-bis hold on the kennel, half-drowned though he was,
~ And; just as fel in the bridge’s last span,
+». Lit ont for the middie of the flood like a man.
i . Like aman? Like a hero! We-gave him twenty cheers
As he fought through it all with the water in his ears,

 * We saw tim twice go under, and then his head uplift,

And feel his way along from rushing drift to, drift;
And just as the eradle was about to capsize,
Hetreached autja wet paw and seized the little prize,

* And taking itinshis, teeth, like a Newfoundland dog,
He threw his wealy arms around a friendly log;

And together child and man, dark head and gray,

Were hurried by the torrent down the valley far away.

_ When the flood had gone down, we found them below,
Stuck fast in the hedges above the overflow—
The baby alive, but old Si all white,

_ With eyelids closed and turned to the light;

_ , But we, brought him around, and the first thing he said
Was, ‘‘How’s the young un? [Ive a pain in my head.”
Ob, many there were of kindred bereft,

And many’ poor corse the fajling waves left,

_ Like dead Jeaves scattered the valley through,
Of sires and mothers, and little ones too!

'* Bit our little Flood’ Wait never will need
A frienil in the valley to foster or feed;
And still, while the thought of that woful time
Grows on his mind from childhood to prime,
With us he ever; in heartfelt praise,
Will echo it back to the end of his days:
“Honor to old Si Skates, of Leeds,
While honor waits on noble deeds!”

Fanchet, the Fawn:

OR, THE

SECRET OF CASTLE-CHASE.

By Frank H. Stauffer,

 

Author of “FIDELIA, THE FIRE WAIF,” |

“DORLAN, THE SCOUT,” “RUTH BRAN-
DON, THE WRECKER’S, DAUGHTER,”
“LITTLE NELL, “THE HEIR OF HELM-
WOOD,” “LUCY DARRELL,’ etc., ete,

 

(‘‘Fanchet, the Fawn” was commenced in No, 31. Back num-
bers:can be obtained from any News Agent in the United States.

CHAPTER XVI.
: NEPHEW AND AUNT. ‘ iA

Master and Man were rot slow in profiting by the ex:
ample shown them by Fancliiet, and though the stables
were brrned to the ground, they succeeded in saving all
the live stock. ‘

They stood gazing at the smoking debris, the look of
regretful concern on fhe generally stolid face of Neal Mac-
Neal, the servant, indiacting that lie felt the loss more
than Arthur Greyson, the owner. :

“Dig you eyer meet with a girl more brave and self-
possesSed tlran Fanchet?” asked Neal, as he shook the
dust and sifted hay from his wide sllirt sleeves. ‘Her face

 

j here,”?

 

 

 

———————————

“Where did Miss Joselyn get the ring? she asked. |

“She will not tell.”

“Why ??

“She made a promise not to tell. Once it crossed my
mind that you gave it to her.” : ;

“12? asked Miss Greyson, surprised in look and tone.
“What put that ir your head ?? ‘

‘(She says Lhat the ring was given.to her since she came

.

“Since she came here?’ repeated Margaret Greyson,
&@ concentrated look settling upon her face. ‘Au! That
makes the matter all the more.complicated.. Who gave
itto her? Why did she promise not to tell? Perhaps she
found it?”?.. ‘aoe ’

“No, aunt, I believe her.to be truthful,” :

“There is a mystery here??? Margaret. Greyson slowly
said... ‘“Grave- issues are, involved; you must be aware of
that. Which is the ring which you gave to Mrs. Greyson ?
The one worn by Miss Joselyn, | am sure—despite the re-
salt reported. by ordinary carefal. and discreet Neal Mac-

eal.”? : ; : q

Arthur Greyson shifted uneasily in his chair.

‘“‘What reason have you for such a decision ?”’ he asked.

‘*L can scarcely explain, Arthur. You must at Jeast ac-
knowledge the mystery, and’ where it places you. You
cannot act until it is solved.” ;

“Nor shall 1,’ replied he, his brows knit, “I.could not
bring disgrace upon Geraldine, or such nnenviable pub-
licity upon myself. I saw Fanchet withthe ring; | at.
tempted to induce her to tell me; I spoke of the issue in-
volved; now you know why I told her of my contemplated
marriage.” c

“You wanted to keep the confusion of rings from me,”
said Margaret Greyson. ‘‘I shall question Miss Joselyn;
With better success I hope.’

Artiiur sliook his head. ‘

“You will find her very determined,’’ he said, ‘She is
under a promise,’*’ g :

“Bat it may not include, me.’* ~

“You may depend that it does.’

“Dll at least try.”? al

“I wish you sticcess,? replied Arthur, with an incred-
uious little laugh, and there the conversation ended,

CHAPTER XVII.
AN ALLIANCE— OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE.

Arthur Greyson’s interview with his aunt had disturbed
his mind: considerably; he .Knew that she did not favory
his marriage with Lady Geraldine; he suspected that she
gloated over the mystery which promised to postpone the
event—nay, that ;she would turm every circumstauce
against it that she could. ;

in his disturbed: frame of mind he walked into the
garden, where he met Neal MacNeal. :

“Who gave you the ring that.day, Neal ?? he asked,

“The matron of the hospital,” replied the servant, with
@ Side-long glance: at his master. ; °

“Declaring that she took it from the hand of Mrs.:Grey-
son??? - : ; Dott

“Declaring that she took it from the hand of the
woman who died there.”

“Such precision is hardly necessary,”? retorted Arthur,
with a direct stare!, “Did I not understand you to say
that you were fully satisfied in your own mind?--Do you
believe this to be the ring which Mrs, Greyson wore ?”’

“The one on your watch chain? Of course | do!. I
could swear to it.”

Suddenly Neal; dropped his eyes: he recalled what
Colonel Greyson had toid jim about overweening: posi-
tiveness. ; ; :

“The ring is a peculiar one, Master Arthur,” he re-
sumed. “Any ope would recognize it. Who better than
you? I saw it a score of times—nay, a hundred times—
on Mrs. Greyson’s finger,”

“What would you. say, Nealy. wereI to tell you) that
Miss Joselyn wears a ring just like it?” 7

Neal sluggishly lifted his head.

‘I would say that you were joking.”

“But Lwouldn’t be. She has just such a ring.” .

There wasno mistaking histone. A look of astonish-
ment slowly overspread the-old servant’s face. ;

“Heactiy like it??? he asked. :

“So 1 said.’ ; ; i

Neal drew a heavy breath. ;

 

“Why, that—that—weakens the evidence,” he slowly
admitted, ‘It may upseveverything. How didjshe come
by it??

“It was given to her, but she declines to tell by whom.
She shelters herself behind a promise.’ ;

“How long has'she had the ring?” asked Neal.

“Tt was given to her since she came here.”?

Neal’s leok of/surprise changed to; one of comprehen-
sion; he thought of Colonel Greyson; he knew tlat he
had met Fanchet—that he-had. written her a letter; no
doubt he gave her the ring, and if so, for a purpose.

Arthur Greyson saw; the change in the old man’s face.

“Neal,” he suddenly, sharply said, ‘you know where
Miss Joselyn got that ring!’

“1? asked Neal, taken aback, ‘No, Master, Arthur.”’

He didn’t know, he only suspected.

“Then you could guess?’

‘From noon to night, and not hit,’? rejoined Nea).

“What, then, caused your face to change so???

 

‘My face, Master Arthur?. What was there strange

about that? If the ring Miss Joselyn wears, is the reali.m
ring, then Mrs. Greyson may be alive—perhaps gave tle}

ring to her. If suck is Me case, then she las been here.
To suspect that the dead might be alive, alter all; and to
comprehend how. disappointed you would feel, was
enough to make my face cliange.””

“To be sure,”? Arthur was forced to admit,

“Nothing can be done until the mystery has been

fathomed,?). » 7
“Which is also true,’ replied Arthur. “If you find out
through; Miss. Joselyn,,or otherwise, where she got the
ring, 1 promise to make it worth your while.’
“ll try,?? Neal said, with a nod.
‘But when ieft alone he muttered:
“The confusion of rings is notthe only mystery. Fanchet
will never tell until the time comes; and if Master; Har-
rold gave it to her, which I more than suspect, 1 would

 

didn’t indicate anything like that, though I always set her
down as being deeper than'she looked.” * :

“Your quiet-seeming girls are generally most ready in
an emergency,’ commented Arthur. : ;

“More willing to dare and more able to endure,’’ added
Neal. “{ can never forget the presence of mind, which
shie displayed, and the coolness with which she. carried
Out the’purpose. ‘But for her, we would have lost the
horses. Que of her little fingers is worth more than Miss
Deforest's whole body.”

“Keep your invidious comparisons for other ears than
mine,” replied Aythur Greyson, sharply, scowlingly.

“IT beg your pardon, sir,’ said Neai, humbly. ,

He stared at the smoking ruins, a hurt look on his face.

‘sIt?s,the first rebuke I’ve ever,had from Master Artiur,’’
he muitered, » ‘it wasn’t deserved in me—and 1 wasn’t
bold, either; leastwise it was the truth. The one lady is
refined gold—the other, a base imitation. He'll tind; that
Out some day, if he lives long enough.’? } ;

Neal MacNeal’s reference to Lady Geraldine; reminded
Arthur that he had Jeft her alone on the porch, without,
perhaps, having apologized for his,abrupt departure..

Hastening to the house, he found her just about to de-
part. He offered to accompany her,iome, and she, seized
his arm with a nervous grasp.

“J was so frightened!? she said. “My hair smells
scorclied, and some of the cinders almost fell into my lap.
You have suffered a serious joss, Mr. Greyson.*’ :

“O no,’ ine pleasantly rejoined. , ‘The stables were very
old—merely so many tinder boxes. , They should ,jaave
been rebuilt at the time when the wings, were added to the
dwelling. In less than a month I’ll have better structures
under roof. employing stone instead of wood.”’

As hé walked home with her, he spoke at some length
of Fanchet’s bravery, and of other commendable traits,
which he had observed in her. :

“] think sheis quite a reliable girl,’? assented :Geral-
dine, carelessly.

But her careless tone was a mere mask to the bitterness
which his praise of Fanchet had awakened.

{t vexed her; it made her,spiteful and restless; it deep-
ened tlie presentiment that the white-faced little govern-
ess was iu some way or other to baffle her in tue proudest
wish of her heart. :

‘Fanchet did not come down to breakfast the next morn-
ing. Arthur Greyson and his aunt spoke freely concern-
ing her. ;

“Aunt, you were mistaken in your estimate of her,” he
said, his face brightening. ‘She's a little heroine.??

“And consequently cannot lack decision of character,’
“T recall what I said; I admit that I
erred. I forgot the proverbs—that still waters run deep,
and ‘that empty wagons make the most noise. But,
Arthur, there is something which I wish to ask you. How
came you to tell Miss Joselyn about your engagement to
Miss Deforest ?”?

' Margaret Greyson would never call her Geraldine, and
far less Lady Geraldine:

Arthur looked up at hisaunt.

“I never toid her so,’ he replied.

“She says tliat you did.’

*Ttold her that I intended to
Whom... She simply inferred.” ,

“But why did you tell. her even, |
Miss Greyson. ‘‘You are seldom
your purposes. It suggests conside
very short acquaintanee.’? ol Ped i

Arthur colored and debated his reply. He felt unjustly
acoused, but did not want to explain by telling her of the
mystery of the two rings. She brought him to;that, how-
ever, a few minutes later. }

“I had my reasons for doing so,’? he slowly said. ‘She
did not misconstrue it into a familiarity.” |,

“I think L asked you for your reasens,’) she said, keenly
watching him. .‘‘Perhaps you will condescend to be more
explicit concerning another matter. How did you come
to give ler that ce enia Neal MacNeal brought back ?”’

Arthuf returned her keen glance; he saw that an ex-
Planation was, not to be avoided, {

“I did not give it to her,” he said.

“She wears it. I saw it.on her finger.’

“Aunt, the ring, which, Neal brought is here on my
Watcli-chain. It bas not been offit sinee.’? ut

Murgaret Greyson stared—caught at Arthur’s watch-.
chain, then dropped it, er lips twitching. ; ;

ut did not tell her

  
 
   
 

uch ?? persisted
‘ee-spoken about
intimacy upon a

“They are alike,’ she said.
“Precisely, aunt? reo? ;
. cn changed under a,sudden thought which, crossed
Tr mind. : i t
; MY ot do not khow which of them is the ring which you
gave to Adelaide?’ she asked, mi ae
Gravily darkened hig face,
_ This one—I. have evyery,reason. to
“Tt was taken from her finger,” ;
Margaret Greyson passed her hand over her hair.
“Bul suppose it wasn't.?”’ she asked. ‘Suppose the. wo-
man Who died was not your wife?”
She saw, by Arthur’s face, that his mind had entertain-

,

believe, he said.

not dare to,tell Master Arthur, however much I might de-
sire to tell him.” ;

Margaret Greyson was, to a considerable extent, grati-
fied over the confusion of rings. The more sie thought
abouts tile, matter, the stronger became her antipatliy
against Geraldine, the stronger her desire to retain her
position at Castle-Chase. :

‘Miss Joselyn intimated a, willingness to aid me, and I
bluntly declined,” she thonght. .Did she feel that she
was able to assist me? Her having that ring looks very
muchdike it. Pil opem the snbjeet again,”

During the day sle;dropped into the school room to see
Fanchet. ,She was inthe habit of going there now and
then;, sheysometimes felt lonely; it was a pleasant, airy,
well-lighted room; she would, seat herself beside one of
the. windows, with her sewing, and listen to: Winefried
repeating her lessons, or study Faneuet’s face, when she
thonght she was not observed. « }

Winefried’s lesson heard, Margaret Greyson looked up
and asked: f :

“Were your hands burned any last night ?. Yon are cer-
tainly a brave girl. Mr. Gveyson speaks of you in the
highest terms of praise.’

‘‘He does ?”? and Fanchet’s face brightened wonderfully.
“fam glad to hear it. J want to stand high in his esteem.

Generally, Fanchet spoke just what: was in her mina.
ise Greysou knew that, and hence looked steadily at
ler. :

Why did she want to stand high in Arthur’s esteem ?
Was she learning to love;him ? Was she so silly as to pre-
sume? Had she set her heart upon becoming mistress of
Castle-Chase ? t ps6

Following those-mental queries came the recollection
that Fanclet had intimated an alliance. If she’ could
baffle Geraldine, why not make use of her? Be

“The breaking out of the fire interrupted our conversa-
tion last night,’ she said. ' ;

““¥es,’? smiled Fanchet. ‘We were flinging questions
at each other, and you had me by the wrist... ‘Yell me,
Miss Greyson, whose portrait is that to which Iihad
pointed 2?

“Colonel Harrold Greyson’s,”?

“A brother of Arthur Greyson ??

*Yes,’? -

‘Living ?? CER I

“No—dead. Is it possibla that you have not yet seen
the monument in the glen? He fell in battle, and his
body was sent home trom India!

An odd expression settled upon Fanchet’s face, some-
thing like digappointment-predominating. . The: informa-
tion did not conform to the discovery which she thought
she had made; the portrait could not.be that of the one-
armed man who had given her the ring,

“What interested you in that particular portrait? asked
margaret Greyson,

“It reminded me ofsome one whom I once met,’ re-
pig Fanchet, thought not so promptly as was usual with
ier. willed tas

“The reseniblaniee to Arthur deceived you.”

: “No.’? replied Fanchet, staring yacantly in front of
1er. 965: Pumiiline yas

“T have ansyered your questions, Miss Joselyn; now
ee as to answer mine. Where did you get that
rid Ten

Fanchet came out. of-her abstraction. :

cae not at liberty to tell,’ she replied, ® flush on her
cheeks, ga 48 , :

“It was given to you after you came here??? .

‘Yes, Mr. Greyson told youthat??..

“Why are you not at liberty to tell? Was secreey ex-
acted ?7"., ‘ ;

“Tt Was enjoined.” j

‘‘For what reason ?’? ay i : ,

“Miss Greyson, please do not embarrass: me in. this
Way,’’ pleaded Fanchet... ‘I: must, respect. my promise,
Whatever may come out.of it. The ring; was given to me
against my will.’ _, \ i i

A look of curiosity flittered across Margaret Greyson’s
aristocratic face. 5+ | :

“{ mean, before I was aware of it,’ qualified Fanchet.
“Tt was slipped, UDA my finger, and the person ‘glided
away almost before Lhad, time to protest., Mr. Greyson
has informed me of the trouble of mind which it) hag
caused; ut indeed I cannot explain until I feel free to do
so ? :

:

“Was the ring given to. you by.a lady ?? asked Margaret
Greyson, persistingly, ., ,

“I would not answer that for Mr. Greyson, but ‘I will
oblige, you,” Fanchet gaid,. a flutterabout her lips. ‘It
was not given to me by adady.”? ih 14
Big a—a—Wwoman then??? asked the other, | desper-
ately, : ; ;
cf aid not shelter myself behind such fine distinctions,”
replied Fanchet. “I answer without any self-evasion of
mind... The ring was given|to me by a gentieman. I
never saw him before I came here. 1 do noteven know
i name; I have not seen. him since he gave me the ring.

iss Greyson, I am telling you the truth.”

 

ed & doubt of that kind,

  

 
   

and did neta

the matter ?

 

“T have never yet had occasion to doubt your word,”

‘

 

a

ao =

replied she. “But what was his motive in giving! you that
ring’?

“Persistency may sometimes wina secret one,”?
said Fanchet, with an arclr look. “I amon guard,
you perceive. It is not my secret, but his—theretore, I
hoid it all the more inviolate. He spoke to me about a
certain matter; he advised.me; he gave me instructions;
he sight of the ring was to keep them fresh.in my memo-
DY.) i i {

Margaret Greyson looked atthe floor, her brows knit,
her hands folded, the air from the window Causing her
Suk dress to rustle, ga

Suddenly she raised her head and said:.

“The other day you hinted at an.alliance.”

Fanchet did not comprehend her at first; she had not
hoped for an intimacy covered by so forcible a word.

“Against Lady Geraldine?” she.asked.

“Against Miss Deforest,” and Margaret Greyson’s brow
darkened. ‘I somehow feel that you can-help me; it is
stronger than ap intuition. That, marriage must not
come off!”

‘Not for Winefried’s sake, if not for Mr. Greyson’s,”
Fanchet said, half to herself. us @

“The instructions given you by that gentleman—were
they concerning this matter?” —'

It was alive shot. “

‘Please ask me no more questions,’ Fanchet softly said,
with a gentle.gesture,. “It pains me-because I cannot
vblige one who has been so kind—so very Kind to me.”

“‘T promise to desist. You believe that you can help me
to thwart that designing woman ?”? ;

“Yes, Miss Greyson.”’ :

_ “Even if you have to win Mr. Greyson yourself?”

Fanchet colored to the roots of her hait. .

“I do not aspire,’ she simply said. ‘And in the com-
parison of my charms with jiers, I would suffer griev-
ously.”? ary ’ BST 3 aa

“J have my doubts about that,’? Margaret Greyson
thought. Sheisaid: ‘Kuowledige—power—came’ to you
with that ring ?”? ‘ ; aie :

Fanchet did not reply te-that—nor look up.

“I shall baffle her,” she said. “How, I need not say;
how, May depend very much upon cireumstances.”?

Margaret Greyson sat quiet for a few minutes, evidently
lost in deep thought.” Then she arose, took Fanchiet’s
hand and pressed it. - i’

“That, for the alliance,’’*she said.

 

‘Offensive and defensive,” particalarized Fanchet, re- |
p ,

turning the pressure,

When Margaret Greyson left the room, Fanchiet’s face
once more brightened, her gray eyes changing to hazel.

“Whatever the mystery may be, that girl holds the key
to it,” Margaret Greyson thought. *‘Some man isin com-
munication witli her; theinterests of Castle-Chase lie near
to his heart, or else he hates Miss Deforest With, a bitter
Natred. But—who is that maap? @ 9

She couldn’t conjecture; but‘ half’ an hour later she
stood face to'face with iim in the corridor. She saw not
only the’outlines of his form, but the linéaments of his
countenance. ra

“Harrold!” she gasped, ‘both hands pressed against
her heart, one above the other, her face white as a sheet.

The figure‘glided away, with a noiseless, wavy motion;
then Margaret Greyson fell to the floor in a swoon.

How long she remained insensible she never knew.
She arose, her limbs weak, her brain dazed. She groped

‘her way along thé corridor to her room, then flung herself

into a chair.
- “It was Harrold’s ghost! she‘ groaned; wlth a convul-
sive shudder. “Good Heavens! can such things be!’
Matter-of-fact Margaret Greyson was not to be blamed
for believing that her nephew, Colonel Harrold Greyson,
had appeared to her as an apparition.
Had she not seen his body interred in the grave in the

glen years before?
CHAPTER XVIII.
* AN ARM LOST IN THE SPECTRAL SKIRMISH.

The debris of the burned stables had been carted away;
the. foundations had been re-laid;. workmen. sivarmed
around the spot, hewing stone and. morticing timbers,
and’the din of saw, hammer and chisel resounded on the
air. 1t was a lovely morning, and Arthur Greyson stood a
Jitthe distance off, watching tie workmen.

Fanchet passed him in the path which led to the, stile.
He glanced after her in surprise.

‘Is that you, Fanchiet ?”? he called.

She turned, stood still, and he joined her at once, a look
of admiration on his face.

Her cheeks flushed. Shewas pleased that he had no-

 

| ticed her, She was pleased because he had called her

Fancliet.

His surprise and admiration had been. awakened by the
change in her attire.

She was no longer clad in the russet; she had. fashion-
éd new dresses out of o]d ones, in pursuance of Margaret
Greyson’s suggestion, and the one which she hadon fitted
her to.a fault, and charmingly harmonized in color with
the Complexion and style of her face. In addition, there
were bows, ribbons, trinkets, and other ‘feminine con-
ceits,”? which, though mere trifles in themselves, display-
ed much taste and enhanced her loveliness,

“Permit metocompliment you upon.your improved
appearance,” he said. ‘You sent for your trunk 2?
“No,” she said, in that quiet way, which beca

o se e thig ress | Q ‘ S

   
   
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
   
    
  

 
  

 
 

i eT Cc
cknowledge that wealth and station had in
any wise lifted him above her. He was more pleased
With that than ifshe had been timorous on one extreme
or bold upon the other.

He talked to her in a free, vivacious manner, and was
charmed with her pointed, unconstrained replies,

He,complimented her for her presence of mind-on the
occasion ofthe fire—for the inierest she took in Wine-
fried—for the way in which her deporiment had wou upon
Margaret Greyson.

She accepted his praise as though it was nothing more
than her due; but he noticed in sidelong. glances at her
face, that her emotions were those ofdelight, indicated in
the fluttering lips, the flashed cheeks, the kindling eye,

They reached the stile, where they halted, for the first
tine direcUy facing each oiler. . Her mind was upon her
interview with Geraldine just there; his thouglusavere
upon the ring. ;

“You will tell me about it now? with, a nod toward
her hand.

“J cannot,’? she -said,in a low, half-regretfnl, half.
disturbed tone. ‘{ have not been absolved from my
promise. Is this bauble to be a subject of discord between
us?. I shall fling it among the furze;bushes,”

She attempted to withdraw the jewel from her finger,
but he quickly caught her hand. ,

“No, Miss Joselyn,’? objected he.

     

“How will that mend
Lhe ring is of considerable, value. intrinsi-
cally and otherwise. Iwill wait until you are at liberty
to tell.’ ;

It was the first time that he had ever taken her hand in
his. He was surprised to find it so smiall,-so, soft, so
white. It pulsed hotly in his for halfa minute, then she
withdrew it with a half-absent look.

“You told. me that you were fond of remances,’ he said,
Withan adroit change of subjects.

“I told you that Idid not object to them,’’ she specified.
“They frequently enterfain—they sometimes edlfy.”

“IT have one which I wish you to read, Miss Joselyn;
critically and hypercritically, if you wish, with a view to
a full and free expression of opinion.”

' “Lam willing to oblige you, Mr. Greyson. Much store
should not be set by what L,might say about it, though.”

“It is in manuscript,’?,

“And. has never been printed ?’? asked Fanchet, her
hands fiuttering. ‘‘That will be charming! It is in Ara-
bic, perhaps?”

“In the queen’s English. The production is my own.??

“Yours!? and the swift, pleased look which she gaye
him remained in his memory for the rest of the day.

“J should not have,told you that,” he said; ‘“‘yourwi!l
be less impartial in your comments,”?

‘‘Do not. be too.sure-of that,’? Fanchet rejoined, with a
sweet little laugh. ‘‘I shall pot spare you.”?

“tT hope notl?, and his handsome brown eyes met hers.
“T will put the manuscript on your desk in the school-
room during the day. When can you.read it???

“In a fortnight, if dull; in a night, if fascinating,” and
she gave him an arch look,

‘‘Tshall abide by your decision, Miss Joselyn. You are
shrewd, discerning, and haye a great deal of good com-
mon sense.’?

“But may not be sufficiently imaginative.”

“If the story has any merit you will be sure to discover
it, and as sure to say so.’),

“Organism may have much to do with forming an
Opinion of a book,’’ replied Fanchet, hesitatingly. ‘That
may xccount for the great variance in criticism. Many
books which went begging for a publisher subsequently
became immensely popular, and yielded large profits.
They struck some chord or other in the human heart. Do
you propose to publish your romance?”

“That will depend entirely upon your criticism.”

Fanelret’s face was aglow.

“You pay me too much honor,”’ she said, her eyes dark-

rening.

“TL have great faith in your judgment,” was _ his reply.

“AT do not dread criticisii.??

“What is it Bovee says about the ultimate fate of an-
thors?” asked Fanchet, with a bright glance. ‘There is
no hell for authors in the next world—they suffer so much
from critics and me tae in this,’

Arthur laughed. &

.“*¥on donot indorse that?” he asked. vers

“T have had no experience with either,’ quietly replied
Fanchet, ‘I believe that it is a distinction to have writ-
ten a good’book; I believe that it is a disgrace to have
written,.& bad one; I believe that we all are accountable
beings; I believe that there is a hell to shun; I believe
that there is a Heavento gain.” :

Her face was grave; her tone low, sweet, earnest; her
attitude graceful, because so unstudied.

She gazed pensively across the red, sandy road into the
dim aisles of the wood beyond,

Arthur Greyson Watched her, his heart going out to her
in a fresh appreciation of her character. ;
: They talked a@ little’ while longer, then returnéd, he
pausing near the workmen, she hurrying on to the scliool-
room to assime her duties for the morning. :

They had scarcely turned from the still ere Geraldine
came ous of the deep, shadowy wood. She had been
wane them as they stood beside the stiH, im the sun-

g

:

 

 

/ She-saw Arthurtake-Fanchet’s hand and hold it; she felt
that their conversation was an earnest one; she saw Fan-
cliet’s lips move in quick replies; she noticed that Arthur
was ut times an attentive listener.

Geraldine’s face grew dark with envy and hatred. She
seized her dress with a nervous clutch of the fingers;

“Thatjade will win him from me by her white face and
quiet ways,” she muttered. , “He will turn from maja her
—to that soft green of the soul upon which our eyes find
rest when faugued with beholding more glaring objects,
I must fling her out of, my path, I must hasten-my mar-
riage with Arthur, Greyson. I have sworn that Castle.
Chase shall be mine.” S|

Straight to the hall she went; Arthurintercepted her as
she neared the workmen. ; ;

; Away the couple stroiled, adown the shady walks,
Fanchet no longer in Arthur Greyson’s. thought. Once
she saw them from the window of the school-room:; | Her
eyes snapped slightly, but that was all. ba

“1 saw you in Close conversation. with the little gover-
ness, awhile ago,” Geraldine said, as she hung upon
Arthur’s arm.

‘Beside the stile? Yes; she is a remarkable girl.’

Geraldine bit her lips. ;

“How came you to tell her about our marriage ?””

“She told you that ???. asked Arthur. ,

“Much to my surprise.’?

‘So you have met her! How do you like her?”

“She is subtle—hypocritical, I came near saying. She
wWears.2 mnask,?? . ;

“On the contrary, [. have thought her very frank—nay,
ingenuous,”’

A scowl came.to Geraldine’s face. It was like dealing
her a blow, to hear him praise Fanchet. j

“How came you to, speak, of,our marriage to a—a—
menial ?’? she asked, her tone husked.

“A menial??? repeated Arthur, ‘Perhaps, since she
works hard for her money and gladly accepts it. Still,
she is avery deserving girl. What isthe matter with
you, Geraldine? Surely, you are not jealous?”

“In intimating that, you. pay me a miserable compli-
ment,’? retorted. she, in suppressed wrath. ‘You have
twice evaded my question. Linsist upon knowing.)

She spoke imperiously, but Arthur did not take-offerse;
it was that which he liked in her.

“T will tell you,’ he said.

He told her about the duplicate rings. ;

Geraldine comprehended the situation; a look came to
her face which he could not translate. ‘The confusion of
rings had not been anticipated, neither-by, her nor her
Wily brother, Richard Deforest. Would it end in the ex-
posure of thie trick ? t

“Where did she get the ring?) Geraldine asked, svith
strong control of voice.

‘She declines to tell?

“Phen force her to tell.?? .

; Arthur laughed, which vexed Geraldine all,the more;
but her yexation soon gave way to the brooding of fear.

Was it policy in her to. urge for an explanation? It might
hasten the exposure of her brother’s perfidy and her own
knowledge of. the fact.

“‘Wihiat effect will this;complication have upon our pro-
posed marriage ?”’ she asked. }

‘It will postpone jt—if nothing more,’?.he gravely re-
plied. , **Your acceptance depended,upon my freedom.
You were always outspoken asto that. IJ thought I was
free—nay, I was sure of it.. Now Lam net so sure. I
cannot bring disgrace upon myselfi—and far less upon
you. However, ail may be made clear by,;and by.”

“Arthur, | must accept your view, ofthe. matter,” said
Geraldine, her face bioomy. ‘Principally, because -it ac-
cords with my Own.; lt seems ali the harder, because lat-
terly I have been dwelling With so much fondness on the
thought of our union.” : :

Her voice vibrated—her eyes grew dewy.

“Wait, darling,’ he said, and he encircled her with his
arms abd kissed her.

They walked ,and talked-Geraldine at last departing
for home, to nurse her bitterness against Fanchet. ~~

That evening Arihur Greyson noticed a worn, anxious
look upon his aunt?s face.

“Something troubles you,’ he said, stopping and. lean-
ing over her chair.

“Yes, Arthur,’? adding a deep sigh.
zied, ind more distressed.
tell you.”

She paused, and rubbed the moisture from her hands,
her mouth grayely set.

“Arthur—the other day I. saw Harrold.”

He looked at her withintense astonishment.

“Saw Harrold!’ he repeated,

“In the upper. corridor,’?

Arthur’s lace grew grave.
dering ?

“QO, don’t look so apprehensive,’’ she said,, with a tired
sniie.. ‘lam perfectly myself, and was sothen. Harrold
lies buried in the glen. Jt was his ghost which I saw.”

“Nonsense, aunt! That surprises me still more—in one
so materialistic as you arel”’

Her face put on a square shape.

“I am constrained to accept the fact, Arthur. Iam so
satisfied in my own mind about it, that I feel no contempt
for myself in admitting it. Isaw his form, his face, liis
features—every lineand lineament. He glided away with

“Tam much puz-
Lhave something strange to

Was his aunt’s mind wan-

 

  
   
  

a noiseless, Wavy motion.
) none invariably do,” added Arthur, with a deri-

ot him an angry, reproachful look, -
nge fo say his left coat-sleeve was empty,
2 arm.
was buried with two,’? reminded Arthur.
uve lost the other in some spectral skirmish.’?
can rail on,’? replied Margaret Greyson, calmly,
ly., ‘‘L saw your brother Ha/roid’s ghost.’ What-
e trouble, I hope it is not prospective.” !
‘ose and left the room, her silks rustling.
1), that is strange!’? And Arthur pressed his hand
gainst his forenead. ‘How can it be explained?  Ifany
one but aunt had narrated that. story, 1 would ave
laughed aloud. But—ceming from her!”

He went to the iibrary, his mind more dazed than he’

He:had
‘He

    

would have cared to admit.
{TO BE CONTNUED.} -

+3

 

FROM “DARK-CLOSET MANU, SCRIPT, ‘Ses

EDITED ; er
By Madame Octavia Walton Le Vent.

[The Shadow of Sin’? was commenced. in No. 26) Back num-
bers can be obtained from any News Agent in the United States. j

CHAPTER XXII.
THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT.

Late in the afterroon, Mrs. Singleton, who had seen
Mr. Halstead drive away fromthe house, presented’ her-
self at the door of Clarice’s bedchamber, tapping softty for
admittance, ; ; ai

The maid answered her inquiries about her mistress by
assuring her she was much better, and Mrs.’ Halstead’s
clear, Sweet voice invited her to come in.

Clarice was seated by the fire, stillin her dressing-
gowb, but looking ‘much refreshed by her -repose.
‘rhe visitor thought she had*never seen her look more
beautiful, and she sighed.as she admitted that she was
really a most lovable creature, ;

‘You have come in time for a cup of tea with me,’’ said
Ciarice, smiling—‘‘a preliminary to your dinner, anda
substitute with me.’ é

“Shall you not join us,‘then ??

“T hardly feel able. ‘My arm is stiff and somewhat pain-
ful, and I could not be aressed.”? ;

“You had, indeed, a most narrow escape,” rémarked
Mrs. Singleton, shuddering with pretended sympathy.

“IT do not know. Ido not believe the dog was mad,
though I am sure my husband thought so when he or-
dered him shot. I wishhe had spared him, for Myra’s
sake.”?

“Do not grieve on her account, madame.
had gone mad, it might have cost her life.

“Tam sure there was nothing to fear on that score.
The dog several times growled at me Months ago, when I
wanted to soothe him by acaress: He had a dislike to
me, as those of his breed often take to members of the
household. How does Myra take it now ?”’

“She is very sullen. I never knew her so nurse her
anger.”

“Tam sorry for it; but I am not to blame,”?

“Nor her lather, He meant all forthe best, as I told
the girl. I hope she will soon forget it; and, luckily, to-
morrow she will be busy preparing for the masquerade.”’

“The masquerade ?”?

“Given by the young men of the —— Club, you know.
Tickets were sent her two weeks ago.’?

“Yes, Lremember now, I had forgotten it.’

“You will go—will you'not ?””

“You forget | am disabled,’? was the smiling answer.
“But I shall nrge Gilbert to go, if Myra does,”

“Raymond is here to escort us.?? .

“True; aud if you are Myra’s chaperon, she ig safe
enough, I never enjoyed such scenes,’?

Here the maid entered with the tea-tray.

Clarice rose, and busied herself with pouring ont the
fragrant beverage for her visitor, and offering her the del-
icate sweet biscuit. She was so kind and cordial, and
looked so lovely that Mrs. Singleton’s heart was hal{-melt-
ed, and she felt constrained to shrink from the reproaches
of her own conscience. ‘To cover her confusion she began
talking fluently. .

“You have heard, of course, of the news that has made
such a stir in aristocratic circles ??

“What news???

“About Madame Brentano, the singer.” )

“T have heard nothing.”’

“Ts it possible?”

“Gilbert néver tells me anything about others’ affairs;
and you know I have been oupyso little.”

“Colonel Atherton has acknowledged hher ,as his
daughter.”

‘Indeed ?”?

“You heard her story—at least what was said, of; her—
that she had been educated at a school in this, State, and
had a guardian who supplied the funds... When her mu-
sical genius developed itself she was sent to finish,her ed-
ucation in New York, and there appeared in several ¢on-
certs. Now it turns out that Colonel Atherton, who, fig-
‘ured as her guardian while he was abroad, was in reality
her father,” ; ;

“And why has he not acknowledged her before? Why
pass her off as his ward merely ?*

“Oli! there are different-stories as to that. He lost sight
of ler when she went, to New York, and the school at

 

If the animal

 

which she had been placed was broken up. It is only
very lately he has found her. She had grown from child-

The Shadow of Sin.

 

hood to womanhood, and he did nat recognize her till the
school-teacher brought and presented her as the child he
had cared for.??

“How strange!” Is her mother living ??

No one can tell. There was a separation, it appears,
many years, ago, between-the married pair, and the
father retained the little girl.’?

“She does not know her mother, then???

“Apparently not.”

‘‘How very sadl? exclaimed Clarice, with a deep sigh.

‘Probably the wretched woman is dead, or has become
lost, to.virtue,?? said her visitor.

“T hope, not, and Madame Brentano—is her husband
living?” f ‘ '

‘d-understand that, she was never married,”

“Why bear the name, then ???, ;

“‘She-nssumed it when she appeared as a singer. That
is, often. done, you kpow.”?

“T did net Know it.??

“Oh, yes; vocalists and actresses seldam have their own
names,?? ;

“And will she continue to sing, in public?? :

“She is to make one last appearance at the opera; then
take her farewell of the stage.. Her father is unwilling for
her to continue such a career.” ;

“Naturally.” : ; j 4

“Yet le seemed very-prond. of her. She is at the head
of his family, and he drives het out every day. He, looks —
like a,different man; at least twenty years younger.

Clarice was musing deeply. eacsh '

‘How happy she must be!’ she murmured’, and sighed
again. :

Mrs. Singleton was watching her.

“You remember seeing her, that first night at the opera,
madame??? ; yt

“Oh, yes, very: well; and at Mrs, Miniver’s concert. I
was not. introduced; but I saw her. , She isa very beauti-
ful woman.,?? :

‘Did you notice the,striking resemblance she bears to
yourself, madame 2”? i

“Gilbert spoke of it; I did not perceive it,”

“Phat is strange; for every one noticed it. ,She is your
very Counterpart. In the same dress you might readily be
taken for each other.?? Bie

“Is the resemblance so strong ??? }

‘Indeed it-is. Why, when Ray first. came to the city,
and was introduced to Cousin Halstead’s young wile, 2
her bridal dress, he.was astonished beyond all power of
expression, for he thought he had left you in. New,;¥ork.””

‘Mrs. Halstead looked visibly startled, and the; color
rushed suddenly over: her face. ; qt

“He had heard her sing at a concert somewhere at the
North, long ago; and would hardly believe,it. was not
yourself, when he met you at Halstead Grove.’?? .+

The crimson flush gave place to pallor, for the remark
called. up. painful,recoliections in the mind of Clarice.

“Strange things happen in real life; more strange,
often, than in, fiction. Suppose this singular likeness
should prove something more than accident!? ;

“How-could it??? asked. Clarice, dreamily; for she
hardly caught the full meaning of the obseryation. ..

“I beg your pardon, madame; vut I have wondered often
at it; and it would really.not be strange if a relationship
were to be discovered.”? ;

Mrs. Halstead made no reply. f

‘You must forgive me if I have offended you,’ said the
matron. ‘I would not do so for the world; but sach fan-
cies will present themselves if facts are not known. You
have never told.us anything of your family.?

The lady was still silent.

“Did you belong,to the Kents of —— copnnty ??

“No, madame.’?

“*You are a native of Virginia?’

“No; I was from, further South.??

“Of Louisiana? I have heard ofa family of Kents—who
were large sugar planters near Thibodeaux,”?

“Tam not related to them at all.’

“Indeed!? i :

“Will you take another cup of tea, Mrs. Singleton???

“No more, thank you.”? ;

The repulse was plain, enough, but the inquisitive visitor
could not give up her game, i

“I have, often been asked,” she said, “of what family
was the lady Cousin Halstead had married, and 1 felt
rather chagiined that I could give no information. We
Virginians, especially, place such stress on birth and
family.?’ .

“So Lhave, heard.’? ;

‘And the Carolinians are not behind us in that respect.
It is the first, requisite to admission into good society that
one’s family should be, unexceptionable,”?

“Do you mean, must possess wealtl and distinction ??

“Oh, no, that is uot necessary; many of our bestfami-
lies are reduced, and Comparatively poor. But good blood
is the essential”? ;

Mrs.. Haistead sat absorbed in painful reverie.

“The Halstead’ family,’? added the lady, . “trace- their
descent from the English nobility, and s0 do the Single-
tons. The estates have come down in an unbroken line
of succession, though diminished by division among the
sdns of one or twe generations. Colonel Halstead repre-
sents the main line, and he is very proud of his unblem-
ished ancestry.” cS

‘He is proud—of it?” echoed Clarice, with tremulous
lips.

“He would not be a true Virginia gentieman if he;were
not,, And Myra’s mother was a Peyton, reiuted to half
the families of the best blood in our State. She wonid
not.have been allowed tO marry,a gentieman Who was not
of as good birth as her own.’? ey

“‘] thouglt,’? murmured the young matron, “thatin the
American republic, personal character was of more im-
portance than the mere, accident of birth,” ‘

“That may be so at the North, where pérsons who:have
no ancestry rise to political power, but. we Southrons are
different.”’ : i
‘ “And does a gentleman lose caste who marries beneath
lim 2??? 4

“Certainly, if it is known to be a mesalliance, but
remember, it is not poverty that throws a shade over any
one. A lady may remain a lady, even if she has to do
menial work.” i

“That is a good principie, butit. wil not bear. carrying
far back. Poverty,deprives its victims of all the requisites
to social refinement?) 4; \ j

“True, but it cannot thin the generous blood flowing
through the veins from worthy ancestors; and transmitted

i

, to Children’s ehildren.”?

“It appears to me there is-more of prejudice whan
reason in such ideas,’? C2 HC

Perhaps,so, bup the prejudice:is universai,” 4

“And if I, gaunot.boast along: line;of ancestors, my
husband is tobe, regarded as having made amesailiance???

the wife asked,.with a curious smile.

“Oh, do not fancy any such thing! iEvery thing ‘about
you, Madame, proclaims you a well born jady, and’no one
could think otherwise for one moment. Lwas only de-
sirous of tracing your family to some of; the distinguished
Virginians,of that name?

“I think—I beljeve—I am: well born,’? said Clarice.

“T feel sure of it.” ;

“Bub. did not come from Virginia, and my: parents
were neither rich nor distinguished.”

“Kent!? ‘repeated Mrs, Singleton, musingly;
goed name.
name ?”?

‘I haye not mentioned it at all.”

‘dndeed, I ,was under:the, impression that you had, I
am so forgetful. -Pray excuse me.”? i

“Certainly, madame; and as my parents seem not to
have belonged to any noted families, it will be of ‘no use
to. take the trouble of research,”

“Forgive me, if 1 have: been inquisitive. But F feel
convinced that the grace and accomplishments yeu pos-
sess, Mrs. Halstead, prove you sprang from no common
origin.” t :

The wife,bowed at the compliment, and said:

“The few accomplishments I have, i owe. to. a careful
education. You know I was brougiit up toearn my living
as a teacher.’

Mrs. Singleton was: baffled.

“Mr. Halstead knew this when he proposed to marry
me, and he did not.appear to think my want of family an
objection.” f

“Oh no, how could he?” cried the Virginia dame, eager
to extricate herself fram the embarrassment into which
she had nearly betrayed herself. ‘My cousin recognized
the stamp of the genuine metal which Miss Kent bore in
her person and her. character. Do not imagine:I was
alluding to your case in my general remarks. But to re-
turn to what I was saying about) Madaine: Brentano, or
Miss Atherton, as I suppose we mustinow call her.. {t was
a romance [ was, weaving in my own faney, what L said
when I noticed the strange resemblauce you ‘bear to. one
another.’ ;

‘Strangers often are alike—are they not???

“Not alike in that, way. You both have pecniiar :fea-
tures; such as; point to a similarity if not to an actual
identity of race, Those large, long, almond-shaped eyes,
With the clear olive complexion, are not common,:and
usually belong to the natives or creoles of this state,”

She stopped suddenly, for she saw Mrs. Halstead start
and grow very pale.

/ L “it isa
(What did. you say was your mother’s

“What is the matter, madame. You are not well! Does
your arm pain you again ?”?

“No—no—it is not that!”

‘Perhaps the constrained posture has hurt it! Excuse

me for keeping you sitting; I. know exercise would be
better.’

“I believe it would,’? returned Clarice. ‘With your
permission, I will not talk any more, but takea turn in
the corridor as I cannot go out. Don’t tronble yourself to
ring.”? :

‘‘Let me help you, then!??

As they passed into :the hall, Myra’s voice was heard
from her chamber. :

“Aunt Selina, can you come to me!’

“Myra wants you!’’ said “Mrs, Halstead.
her: do not mind me,”?

Mrs: Singleton went on to the young laily’s room, clos-
ing the\door as she entered, . The girl had arrayed herself
in the dress she had_selected for the masquerade ball, and
her maid had justfastened it at the waist. .

“This. ig for the dances after supper, yon Know,” she
said. ‘‘We haveall tounmask at supper and take offour
dominoes”? «2 a bag os

“Is it not rather heavy?’ taking up. the lustrous pink
silk of the full trainéd dress.

“Not a bit... Dshall mot dance much.
domino and mask.’)# } .

Tie mask just: suffered the dimpled white chin to be
visibie, while the fash of.two laughing. eyes- were like
scintiliations of sunshine.

‘Would you know me?’

“T think not, unless by your walk: that isso quick and
eager... Why cannot you learn to float like the swanlike
Miss Lawton!?

“Cll practice floating. Now, what think you of that?’

“LT should not Know you by that gait, certainly. Myra,
I have one favor to ask,’?

“Pray go to

Sylvia, bring ny

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
   
 

“Whatis it?’

“Don't flirt with that young scamp, Fred Hobart.”

“Why do you cal him a scamp ??

‘ “Because he is one. You will leurn yet how treacherous
16 js.”

: “Poor fellow! he is in love with me, and you hate him
or that.”

“He would deceive you, Myra. He is as devoted as ever
to Mrs. Wetmore when he is vot paying court fo youl”

“Now, aunt Selina, you are slandering him!”

‘“Sudeed Luin nut, Ask anybody who sees them drive
Out together in the mornmgs.”’

“If T thought he was playing me false, I would panish
him; that I would!” cried the impetuous young beauty,

“Myral Myra! playing you false. Is he auything to
you? Tell me at once.

The girl caught her stately relative around the waist
and whirled her around regardless of her struggles,

“Aunt Selina! Tell me at once, is ft Ray's jealousy that
makes you sv inquisiuve? Did he bid you find out any-
tinng??

“Poor Ray! he would die to serve you; but he never
ye ean LO set a Spy on you, my child, It is your

ather :

“My furherl’? repeated the girl, scornfully, ‘what right
has he wo my obedience afier this morning’s outrage ?”

“You must not talk so, child. Nothing le’ hus done
lesseiis lus claim to your obedience.”

“And Lam to Obey him, when he has shown no regard
for iy feelings!”

“Certaimly; he is your father."

“Pid he tot order me out of the room as if. T had been
a slave!” cried the girl, flushing scariet, “Whit does he
think of me, now he has got a pretly wife to please and
flatier him? They both hate me, Auut Seima, and I will
wot obey them. | will haye my turn svvn, aud you shall
see how they take it.”

“Myra, don’t cry, child.
you.”

“Forget how cruelly my poor dog was sacrificed for a
hard-hearted womun!?

“Your father was not pléased that you did not come
down to lunch,”

“And if he thinks Iam coming to dinner or to breakfast
to-morrow he will find himself mistaken. He shall clioose
between ine and lis new wile.”

“Dow’t force him to decide between you, for you know
which Way the scale will turn,”

“In her fayor, of course.”

“How cotild it be otherwise? A daughter has no chance
againo. Ww yOuinful and jovely wife.”

“Then Ph marry somebody they don’t like, and cut the
Whole concern!” exciained the willfal girl, wiping away
her tears, while her maid unlastened ber dress.

“By rashuess, child, you will only prepare suffering for
yourself! suid) her artful mentor, “Why cannot you
contide hi nie; dearest Myra 2"

*Bevause you are treacherous like the rest.”

4?) What do you mean???

“What were you tuking so long about with my step-
Mamuna in her rvom??

“1 was working jor your good, foolish child.”

“How so?”

‘4 questioned her about her family. There's a mystery
about her, Myra, that dus loug haamted me.”

“And what have I to do with it??

“Wherethere is mystery there may be guilt.?

“Nousense!”? exclaimed the gir. “We all knew her as
Miss Keni. She was well euougn then. It is only since
she married my futher tat she hag estrauged him from
m¢.?’

“You know nothing of her antecedents, child. Nor
does your father. He Was ioo much in love with her to
to ask or care about (hein.
than he will teli me.”

“Ray! And will be tei me, do you think ?”

“He might, if you were to use tie speilof your beauty
to make lim open his lips.” .

“But what good will i do us to find out anything? She
is Mrs, Halstead now."

“Prue; bul ib would give you power over her to
her secret, if she hus one,”? f

“J don’t like secrets. J should not like to use any sucli

ower, even if I had it. 1 hike open dealings, Aunt

hina.”

‘So do I; but sometimes we must meet guile with craft.
I suspect the woman, Myra, and Ishall try to find her
hey say nothing aboutit, but get all you can out of

 

 

Forget all that has troubled

Ray knows something—more

know

--—
CHAPTER XXIY.
ON THE PRECIPICE.

© It was part of Mrs, Singleton’s deliberate plan to keep
Myra from any good undersiaudiug with her stepmother;
aud it needed buta few hints and innuetdoes, artiully
thrown in, to maintain the sulien indiguavon of the witl-
ful, impetuous girl agaiust Ciarice, whom she blamed
chiefly tor the loss of her dug, She refused to appear at
any meal the following day, expecting her father lo come
up and talk with her, as lie used to du in Virginia when
she gave way lo angerat anyiling he tad done, or at
least to summon herto his presence, where, us she ex-
pressed it, she could ‘iaye it out.”

lt would have been a relief to her to haye an opportu-
nity of pouring out her grief and vexauion on tie heads
of the two who tad Offended her, Then suushine would
have returned, fur her nature was bot oue to nurse resent-
nieut, All day she reimained iu her room, expecting ler
father to send for lier, but nu message cune. Her break-
fast, lunch, and dinner were brought up by Sylvia, Weary
of ler voluntary seclusion, she longed Lo go down stairs,
where the sound of Cheerful voices was heard, but her
pride would not bend itself. Mrs. Singleton came in sev-
eral tines to propose a drive, or a waik, orto suggest
some addition to the toilet destined for the masquerade;
but Myra rejected all efforts to win her toa sociable mood,
Two or three times she asked how her father took her
abseuce.

“He has said nothing atall,”’ was the reply.

“Not evetl to ask if L am well or ill?”?

“On, he knows you are not ill, and that you are going
to the ball to-night. He learned that from Mrs, Hai-
stead.”

Tne young girl pouted.

“While he has er company, I suppose he does not care
for mine.”

“What can you expect?’ said Mrs. Singleton, with a
significant shrug, ‘a beautiful and uccomplished wife may
well cuuse a man in love with her to be unmoved by the
way ward humors of a spolied daughter.”

“Aunt Salina,’ and a 80b broke in the clear young voice,
you ure sure my father Cares no more for nef"?

“Heaven forbid L should say so, childt But you must
not expect the same manifestations of affection as when
you were all he iid,”

“J must expect tu be thrown aside and neglected; and
to have my feelings trauipled on, as they were yester-
day!’

“You must be reasonable, my dear, and net expect to
occupy the first place in your father’s heart.”

“Wiat have I doue to lose his affection?!

“Nothing, certainly; ‘‘buta mun’s love for a devoted
wile is always the strongest.”

“But why must l be insulted and outraged, because
papa is so liappy with—that woman! cried Myra, weep-
ing alresh. ‘is he uot at Jeast sorry for haviig cuused
mie such grief, in depriving me of my favorite ?”

“He cerlaluly has shown no sorrow, ansivered the mis-
chiel-maker. Both he und Mrs. Halstead have been in
uuustally fine spirits to-day.’?

She little Knew to what a pitch of desperation she was
urging an undisciplined nature,

“Jt was sport for them! muttered the angry girl. ‘But
I can make him feel! 1 can inflict ou him quite as severe
a@ wound.”

“Guie, darling, you must not fret. One at least, has
mourned your abseuce, aud will not be consoled tll he
has the sunshine of your pregence.”?

“Pshaw, Ray does uut care for mel"’

“AL this very moment, dear, he is waiting to know at
what time he is to call for us!"

“For you——"

“Aud my fair charge. Dry your eyes, lcve; here is your
maid with lights. She will bring up tea, and then it wiil
be time to dress.”

Two hours later, and Myra stood before her mirror ar-
rayed in her splendid and becoming dress; jewelsin her
beautiful hair, aud decking her neck aud arms,

Never had sue looked so brilliant; so like a young
queen. A change liad passed over ler face; if the fresh
hilarity havutual to her had vanished, it was repiaced by
a fierce foreed gaye!y, born of the bitterness of her heart.
Her cheeks were flashed; her eyes fairly blazed, as she
surveyed the lovely reflection given back by her faithfu
glass, and listened Lo Lhe compiiments paid her, ler pride
rose, and with it resentment at her fancied wrungs,
mingied with a resolutiun to have vengeance.

She had notyet spoken to her step-mother, and when
Mrs. Singleton led her past the. open door of that lady’s
apartment, she would not stop as she had been aecustum-
ed to do, bul hurried on, and Tran down the stairs to the
drawing-room. Mrs, Singleton followed, and Sylvia with
the dominoes ete,

Rayiuond was in the room, which was dimly lighted.
He rose as his lovely cousin entered, regally arrayed, and
with the haughty look in hereyes which he had never be-
fore seeu. Le took her hand, and looked earnestly into
her face; bul she drew back, and took her seat at the op-
posite side of tie room,

His mother whispered as she came close to him:

“Don't say much to her; she is stit vexed about yesier-
day’s work, and her father’s leaving her to herseif. She
will get over itin time, Is the carriage ready?!

The last question was addressed to a servant, who had
just entered. He bowed as he auswered in the affirma-

Tie ladies assumed their dominoes, took their masks in
their hands, aud went down, Ray escorting Myra. She
did uot say aw word as they drove to the club-rooms,

They mingled in the splendid scene, gay wilh varied
costumes, light, music and merry voices. Mrs. Singletou
preferred one of the side rooms, where parties were play-
ing at Cards, or eating ices and sipping cooliug beverages,
She left Myra to her son,

Ray had not failed to notice Myra's strange humor,
which would not brook the least inteteference with her
erratic movements, She seemed determined to shake
him off. As one alter another accosted her Ray was gra-
oe left beluud, but he managed not to lose sight of

er.

lt was wholly anew scene to the young girl, and the
freedom given her by the disguise was a novelty in which
she delighted. Shalis of wit aud drollery were sent to
one aud another of her intrusive admirers, some of whom
stie could not recognize.

In the middle of the rooms, where the crowd was deu-
Sest, she saw close at her side a figure in a green silk
domino, for which she had been looking. The gentleman

stooped his mouth close to her ear, aud murmured her
Bame,

we

 

ne tt $$

eat mo ma a oma

 

“At last, sir,? she said, hanghtily. “Your pretended
impatience to find me was all a sham.’?

“Dunmt condemn mel? he whispered again, “Lf have
been detained. Now that 1 have found, I shall not leave
yon, my charmer.”

She took his arm, and they walked about the rooms,

After hours had passed in Wie dance many of the guests
descended into the garden, which was bridiantly illuimil-
nated, and set out with tables of light refreshment,

Myra was led down into the garden by her companion,
and into.a secluded arbor,

He removed his mask, and she did the same, The air
was refreshing afer the close and crowded ball-room,
Myra's face was flushed, and there were trices of tears ou
her cheeks, She tid been telling all her grief. Her com-
panion’s expressions of sympattetic indignition had
wrought ap her susceptible spirit to a desperate pitch,

“Y@u will have a succession of these hninillalions to
look forward to Myra,” said Fred Hobart, in a low tone
of resolve, for he hud cast his success On the present die.
“How ean you bear them 2?

“] wid not bear them? the girl exclaimed.

“Will you live with those wlio treat youas an inferior?”

“No—] have made up my mind. I will not,” cried the
excited girl.

“But you cannot break the chain alone, Your father
cali couipel you to submit to any usage he pleases.”

“He will find he cannot, I will go away, aud earn my
bread by music-teaching, or go on Le stuge like Madame
Brentano,

“You could not do either, my poor darling! No, no—
you must let me set you free. Tecan teach you how-to
puuish your cruel oppressors, and secure your owu release
beyond ail interference.”

“How

“Trust in me; let me act for youl’

“But they would not listen to you. Ihave been forbid
to Speak with you. If Mrs. Singleton knew we were: to-
gether, L should be patied back, aud receive a lecture.”

“Myra, you must battle them all by one step. You must
give yourself to me.? ’

“Fred!”

“1 have foreseen thist I knew you wold be made the
sacrifice! 1t will end by your being forced ty marry sume
one a

“No, no; that can never bel?

“Myra, you love ine, and Tadore you.
eraciuild, You tiave aright to choose for yourself.
mine al Once, and bid your tyrauls defiance.”

“But, Fred——” :

He met her objections by caresses. He flung lis arms
around her, aud pressed ‘her passionately to his breast;
his eloquence of love flowed like a torrent, Myra
strove tu release herself, and wiuspered that they would
be seen by some of the company. But her lover replied
that they were alone in the garden.

The other guests had goue in to supper.

Myra rose to follow them, but young Hobart led her ina
different direciion.

“You shall nut leave me sol”? he continued, in wild ex-
citement. “You have dealt cruelly with me before this.”

“Oh, nof knever was cruel to you, Fred.”

“You never shali be agaiut Don’t put on your mask,
dearest girl! You sSiiall uot return to the rooms.’

**But | must.”

“They are all gone to the supper room, You shall sup
with me!? :
**} donot want any supper.

go homer?

“fT will take you home, love,” .

“You?—bul what will Mrs. Singleton say ??

“She willbsay nothing. Come, Myral?

Pouring out passionate expressions of his wild Jove, the
young mah drew the bewildered girl toa small gate,
Which Was unlocked. As he threw it open slice saw a close
carriage. Tne Goaciman was standing by it.

Atasign trom young Hobart he opened the carriage
deor.

Before the girl could say a word her lover had seized
her in his afuis. He lifted her into the carriage, sprang
in after her, andthe couchimun instantly closed the door.

“But, Fred, this is not papa’s carriage. Let me out
directly.”

lt will answer our purpose, No, you shall not escape!”

He clasped her closely in his Strong arms, and tried to
silence fev remonstrances by kisses,

“Mr, Dobart, what does this mean?! exclaimed Myra.

“Nothing to dispiease you, dearest! Only that 1 love
you Loo well to 10sé you?

The carriage was now in rapid motion.

By a suddeu effort, Myra released erself and turned to
the window. Sthesaww they Were going in the Opposite
direction to that leading to her father’s house,

“We are going wrong!” she sirieked, “Stop the car-
riage at once!

She beat on the window with her hand, and tried to
open it.

“Why do you not stop the man! He is not taking us
home!? :

“To our home—he is. Let him atone!
now, beyond all power tp part us?

eee coipprebeded ihut an dlopenignt had een de-
sigued.

‘Fred Hobart?! she cried. “Stop the horses! Ido not
choose to ruu away with you.” ‘ >

“But J choose to carry you off!’?

“Where—where!”’

“Wherever d pieasel” the young Man answered in an
altered yoice. | :

“1 comumiud you to stop, and let me get out thig in-
stant!

“You shall not get ont. You wanted to punish your
father for his‘cruelty, and I want revenge jor fis outrage
on me. Weshall both be gratified. 1 pruned this a week
ago. Be quiet. I shall take you where I please.”

“Wherever you take me, | shall Claim pretecition from
youl Do you think I will marry a man wlio has done as
you have done, sir!’

“Whether you door not, makes no difference,*’ muttered
her captor,

“What do you mean?”

“If you do not choose to marry me, I shall not compel
you, Miss Halstead. My revenge will be the more com-
plete on your ruffian of a father!”

“And for this you have brought me away—stolen me
from the protection of my friends!? cried the sobbing girl.

“For just this!’ responded the lover, “1 did aspire to
your hand, Myra; aud may marry you yet; but my chief
object is to reveuge myself on the man who once beat me
like a negfo.”’ ;

The unhappy girl saw on what a precipice she stood,

“Do you Cail this good faith to me?’ sie cried. “Do
you call it acting ike a mau?’ a7

“Yes—like a man who will not bear an outrage una-
venged. | Myra, yuu Cannot cilange matters now—subinit
quietly. :

The girl had found the spring of the window while
speaking. She flung it up, thrust out her head;: and
screamed to the driver to stop,

They had already passed out of the compact streets and
Were going over (he sands.

“No more of thatl? cried Hobart, sternly, drawing her
forcibly away, and letting down the window, “The mam
has his instructions—he will not stop for you.’

“Aid you pretended to love mel”? wailed the girl.

“7 do love you, after a fashion; but 1 will not be balked
of my reyenge.”’

“You seek my ruin, out of hate to my father!”

“You put it strong; but Lhat is about the upsliot of it, if
you prove reiractory.’’

“You are uumasked, sir!” cried the girl, with reviving
spirits. ‘You caunot—you shall not accomplish your ob-
ject. I will denounce you, and claim the protection of the
first person I see.’’

“You will find it hard, Miss Halsted, to fulfill your
threats. We are going where you will not be likely to see
any one but your humble seryant, and those i his pay,
lor soine days at leasi,”?

Desperate with her terror, Myra wrapped her hand in
the domino she still wore, and dashed it throught the glass,
which was shivered to pieces. Again her cries for he!p
rang on the air, tie more loudly as she heard the wamp-
ling of hoofs behind the carriage. i

Fred heard it too. He pulled the girl back, and held
his haudkerchief to her mouth to stifle her screams,

“Hold on tuere, if you do not want to be fired upon!l?
shouted a manly yoice, aud a horseman dashed past the
window.
oe darted up, with a cry of joy, but her captor held
1er fast.

She heard the shout again—this time in front. The
horses were pulled up suddenly, and, panting, stood stil.
The driver broKe intoa volley of Oaths, as he was jerked
violently from his Seat and made to measure his length
on the ground.

The next instant the carriage-door was flung open, and
the assailant cried oul:

“Give me your hand, Miss Halstead, and [ will help you
to alighi!?

Myra stretched out both her arms toward her deliverer.
Hobart's astonishment paralyzed hin for a nroment; but
when he saw the girlleaving the carriage, he caught ler
dress and sprang out alter her,

“Who are you’? he shouted—‘‘and how dare you stop
travelers in this mauner ?”?

The stranger was supporting Myra, who was near faint-
ing.

“Let go that young lady !’’ cried Fred, ‘‘and take your-
selfof! Lamarmed, too, as you will find to your eost!”

He drew a@ revolver from his breust while shouting to
the driver to come to his assistance.

Tie stranger tenderly placed Myra dn the ground, and
strode toward lis enemy. He simitched the pistol from
Mobart’s hand before lie was aware of if, Mung it to a dis-
tance, aud pushed hii back several paces,

“Coward !* he exclaimed. ‘fA wretch who could prac-
tice viokence against a woman Will fiud himself no match
for aman, As lor you, fellow’—turning to the Coachman,
who crept Up timorously—*‘turn your horses, aud be ready
to take this lady back to town immediately.’ ,

“This lady goes with me! cried Hobart, flercely,. “Ruf-
fian as you are, you are doing her noseryice. She came
with me freely, and has promised to marry me,”’

Myra had recovered lier consciousness, aud darted for-
ward, She liad recognized her deliverer by his voice,
though it was too dark to see his face.

“On, Ray!’ stieexclaimed; “I am so glad you have
come! Do not believe that man! I did not want to rup
away with him!’ .

“] know all, Cousin Myra,” answered Raymond. ‘I
Was at the garden gate; 1 had waiched hini all the even-
ing; Tsaw thathe was deceiving you for some devilish
purpose; | should have overtakeu you before, but I found
it difficult to find a horse. Now, let me put you in the
carriage—lI will take you home.”’

“Ol, Ray! how good you aret Is it far from home”?

“You are three miles from the city.”

She trembled so violently, Raymond hac to lift her into
the vehicle. He bade the coachiman take his sout, and

 

You are no long-
Be

Iam not well. I want to

You are mine

 

 

 

Climbed up after him,

  
 

  

 

 

ener

“You are taking possession of my property uncerenio-
niously enough!’ said Hobart, with a forced laugh,

“} know to whom the carriage belongs, and the driver
too. You may walk back to your hotel.”

“You cannot wipe out one factl? shouted the discom-
filed young man. “She was canght eloping with me,
They will have a good Inugh at the club.”

Singleton clutched the reins, und stopped the horses an
instuut, to answer the taunt,

“Villain!” he eried, “LZ hayé let you off without chas-
tisement to-night; bat if [hear of any lie on your part—
for you dare not tell the truih—you shall have the cow-
hiding you merit with interest,”

“You shall give me satisfaction, sir.”

“Not asa gentleman! You tave vcted like a skulking
felon, and shall be panished with the lash,’? He took up
the long whip and struck at his foe, but the latter evaded
it, and while he vented his disuppointineut in curses, the
carriage was driven off rapidly.

[YO BE CONTINUED.]

 

Only an Irish Boy;

Or, ANDY BURKE'S
FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES.

; By Horatio Alger, Jr.

(“Only an Trish Boy” was ¢ommeaoced in No. 28, Back num-
bers can be obtained of any News Agent inthe United States.]
, > ; ae
{ CHAPTER XXL.
MRS. BURKE HAS GOOD FORTUNE.

Mrs. Burke remaified a week longer to nurse Colonel
Preston, Al the end of this time Mr, Preston thougtt he
was well enough, to dispense Wilh a nurse, and accord-
ingly she prepared to lake ,eave.

“f shall always remember your kind service, Mrs.
Burke,” said the colonel, warmly. ;

“It was only my duty, sir,” said the widow, modestly.

“Not ali would have done tieir duty so faithfully.”

“1am glad to see you Well again,” said the widow.

“Not more than 1 am to get well, lussure you,”’ said he.
‘Whenever you are i ally trouble, come Lo me,”

With these words, he placed in her hands an envelope,
which, as she understood, Contained the compensation for
her services. She thaukeéd hitn, and took her departure,

Mrs. Preston was curious to kpuow how much her hus-
band paid the nurse, und asked the question,

“A fundred dollurs,” be replied,

“A hundred dollars!? sie repeated, in a tone which
implied disapproval, “I thought she agreed to come for
ten dollars a week.” .

“So she did,’?

“Sne has not been here ten weeks; only about six.”

“Phat is true, but she has richly earned all 1 gave her.”

“Ten dollars a week J consider very handsome remu-
neralion to one in her position iu life,’ said Mrs. Preston,
pointedly.

“Angeline, but for her attention I probably should not
have jived through this sickuess. Do you think a hun-
dred dollars so much to pay fur your husband’s life.”!

“You exuggerate the value of her services,” said his
wile.

“Dr. Townly says the same thing that I do.”

“Youu are both fufatuated with that woman,” said Mrs,
Preston, impatiently. -

“We only do her justice.’* ;

“O well, have it ail your own way. But I should haye
only paid her what J agreed to, Itisa great windfall for
lier.”? .

“She deserves it.’

Mrs. Preston said no more at this time, for she found
her husband too “infatuated,” as she termed it, to agree
with her, She did, however, open ihe subject to Godfrey
when he came home, and he adopted her view of the cuse.

“She and her low sou are trying to get all they cau out
of father,” he said. ‘it’s just like them.’* ag

“] wish Lcould make your futher see it,’ said Mrs.
Preston, “but he seems possessed in ber favor.”

“If hecan give a hundred dollars to her, he can give
me it littie eXtra money; [im going Lo ask him.’

So he did that same evening.

“Will you give me teu dullars, father?” he asked,

“What fory?

“QO, for various things, I need it.’*

“] give you au aliowance of tree dollars a week,”

“} ave a good inuny expenses,”

‘Tat will meet all your rewsonable expenses. I was
far from having aS muck Mouey as that when I was of
your age.’

“PT dou’ see why you won't give me the money,’’ said
Gorey, disconteniedly. ;

‘1 don't think you need if.” .

“You fre generous enpugh toothers.”?

“To Whom do you reigr??  * A
oney fo that Irish boy and his

“You five plenty of
mother, } ;

“They Tiave both rendered Ine great Services. .The boy
sayed meé from being robbed, ~The mother in all proba-
bility Saved ine ‘fro Tehing’d vioyimd to sinail-pox. But
that has dothing to do with your Uffairs. It is ‘scarcely
proper for a bey like "Vou to criticise his father’s way of
disposing of lis money,’

Cs} eontess | think God fey is right im commenting upon
your extraorditary jiberalty to the Burkes,” observed
Mrs, Preston.

“Angeline,’? said her husband, gravely. ‘when my own
wife deserted my sick bed, leaving nie to. wrestle alouc
with &@ ferribie aud daugeruus disease, I was fortunate
enough to find in Mrs. Burke au devoted nurse. The moucy
| have paid her is no adequate Compeusation, nor is it all
1 intend to do for her.”

There was 2 part of this speech that startled Mrs, Pres-
ton. Fever before had her husband complained of her
deseruon of him m his sicsness, and she hoped that he
had been imposed upon by the excuse which she gave of
saving terseif for Godfrey. Now she saw that in this she
had not been allogether successful, and she regretted hav-
ing referred to Mrs. Burke, and so brought this reproach
upon herseif. She fel it necessary to say something in
extetuation.

“Tt was because I wanted to live for Godfrey,’ she said,
With a flushed face. *“‘Nothing but that would have taken
me away from you atsuch atime, It was a great trial to
me,’? She continued, putting up her handkerchief to eyes
that were perfectly dry.

“We will say no more about it,’ said Colonel Preston,
gravely. ‘I shall not refer to it, unless you undervalue
my obligations to Mrs. Burke.”

“Mrs. Preston thought it best not to reply, but on one
thing that her husbaud had said, she commented to God-
frey.

“your father speaks of giving more money to Mrs.
Burke. [suppose we shail nol know anything about it if
he does.”

“Perhaps he will leaye her some money in his will,”
said Godlrey.

“Very hkely. Ifhe does, there issuchathing as con-
testing a will, thatis, if be gives her much,’

“Mrs. Preston was right. Her husband did intend to
give lus devo ed nurse something im his will, but of that
auon,.
that Was lo buy the cottage which Mrs. Burke occupied
trom the heir, a non-resident. Mrs. Burke didn’t jewru tiis
unlit she went to pay her rent to the store-keeper, who
had acied as agent for the owner,

“I have notuing to do With the house any longer, Mrs.
Barke,” he said,

“Then, who shall I pay rent to?” said Mrs, Burke.

“To Col. Preston, who has recently bought the house.”

Mrs. Burke, therefore, calied at the house ofthe Colonel.

Mr. aud Mrs. Preston were silting together when tle
servant announced that she wished to speak to him.

“You sdém to have a good deal of business with Mrs,
Burke,’ said his wife, m an unpieasant tone,

“None that I care to conceal,” he suid, smiling. “Show
Mrs, Barke in here, June,’ he continued, addressing the
servant,

“Goud-morning, Mrs. Burke,” he said, pleasantly.

“Good-morning,’? said Mrs, Preston, coldly.

“G5»od-morning, sir, Pim giad to see you looking so
much better’?

“O yes, lam feeling pretty well now.’

‘I didn’t find out iiljust now, Col. Preston,
were my landlord,”

Here. Mrs. Preston pricked up her ears, for it was news
to her, also, as her iusbaud had net mentioned his recent
purchase. ;

“Yes, I' thought I would buy the house, as it was in the
market.”

“I have come to pay my rent. I have been in the habit
of payitig filleem dollars a quarter.’?

“| won't be a hard landlord,” said Col. Preston. “You
are welcome to live in the house if it snits you, free of all
rent.’?

“This is too much kindness,’ said Mrs, Burke, quit
overwhelmed by the unexpected liberality. 4

Mrs. Prestun thuught so too, but could not well say
anything.

“There's been kindness on both sides, Mrs. Burke. Put
up your money, I don’t wautit, but l have no doubt you
will find use forit. Buy yourself a new dress.”’

“Tiiank you, Cul. Preston. You are very generous, and
Iam very grateful,” said the widow,

“} have something to be grateful for also, Mrs. Burke.
If you want any repairs, just lel me know, aud they shall
be attended to.”

“Thank you, sir; but the house is very comfortable.”

She seon took her leave.

“When did you buy that house, Colonel Preston ?? asked
his wife. ~

“A month since,’?

“You didn’t say anything about it to me.”

“Nor to any oue else, except those with whom I did the
busiuess.”*

Mrs. Preston would like to have said more, but she did
not think if expedient, remembering what she had
brought upon lierself before.

CUAPTER XXIV.
ANDY’S JOURNEY.

Toward the first of April of the succeeding year, Miss
Sophia Grant look a severe cold; not serious indeed, but
suchas to makeilt prudent for herto remain indoors.
Tais occasioned a jittle derangement of her sister's plans;
for both sisters were in the habit, about the first of Apri
aud of October, lo take a journey to Boston—partly for a
“change, abd partly because at these times certain bauks
in which they owned stock declared dividends, which
they took the opportunity to collect, But this spring it
seemed doubtful if they could go. Yet they wanted the
money—a part of it at least,

that you

;

 

 

 

There was one thing wich he did at once, and {*,

 

 

    

  

 

 

“Send Andrew,” suggested Miss Sophia, after her sister
had stated the difficulty.

In general Priscilla did not approve Sephia’s sugges-
tions, but this struck her more favorably.

“1 domt Know but we might,” she said, slowly. ‘He is
a boy to be trusted.”

‘Just so,’?

“And | think he is asmart boy.”

*Just so,”

“He cantake care of himself. You remember how he
saved Colonel Preston trum the robber.”

“Just so"?

“hen, on the other hand, he has neyer been to
Boston,” :

‘He could ask.’?

“I don’t suppose there would be any particular dim-
cully. Icould give him all the necessary directions.”

“Just so,’?

“Il propose it to him.”

So after supper, as Andy was going out into the wood-
shed for an armful of wood, Miss Priscilla stopped him.

“Were you ever in Boston, Andy?! asked she, |

“No, niw’am,’”

“} wish you had been.”

“Why, mavans 2?

“Becuuse 1 should like to send you there on some busi-
ness.’

_ “Ii go, ma'am,’ said Andy, eagerly,

Like most boys of his age, no proposition could have
been lore vgreeuble,

“Do you think you could find your way there, and round
the city ?”?

“No fear of that, ma’am,” said Andy, confidently.

“We generally go ourselves, as you Know, bul my sister
is sick and I don’t dike to leave her.”

“Of coorse not, ma'am,” said. Andy, quite approving
any plan that opened the way for a jouruey to hit,

“We own buuk stock, and on (he first of Aprit they pay
us dividends. Now, if we send you, do you think you
can go to the Bunk, get the money and vring it back sale.”

“Pil do it for you, ma’am,” said Andy,

“Well, Pi think of It beLween now and next week. If
we send you at-all, you must sturt next Mouday.??

“lil goany day, mu'am,’? said Audy, ‘‘any day you
name.”

Miss Priscilla finally decided to send Andrew, but
cautioned bimagaiust saying anything about it, except
to his own family.

On Monday thorning, just before the morning train was
to start, Andrew appeared on the platform of the modest
village depot with a sinall carpet bag in his hand, lent
him by the Misses Graut. i

“Give me a ticket{o BostoD,’? said he to the station
masier.

Godfrey Preston, who was about to return to his board-
ing school, hai’ just purchased a ticket and overheard
this. He didn’t much care to speak to Andy, but bis
curiosity overcame his pride.

“Are you going to Bustun?” he asked.

“Yes,” sud Ardy, t a

“What are you going for?”

“Important businesss.”?

“Hus Miss Grant turned you off?” ;

“She didu’t say anything about it this morning. Why,
do you want to take my place?”

“Do you think I’d stoop to be a hired boy?” said God-
frey, haughtily.

“You wouldnt need to stoop,” said Andy; ‘‘you ain’t
any too tail.?? .

Godirey winced at this. He was nottall of his age, and
he wanted t0 be. Afidy had been growing fuster than he,
and was now, though scarcely as old, quite two inches
taller,

“It makes io difference about being tall,’’ he rejoined.
“1 tim a gentleman, aud dou’t have to work for a living
like you vio.

“Whut sire you going to be when yoa grow up?”

“A lawyer.” :

“Tien, won't you work for money?”

“Of course.”?

“Théu you'llbe a hired man and work for a living.”

“That's very different. When are you coming back?”

“When Pye fluished my busiuess.’

“Flow soo will thiut be ??

“J can’t tell-yet.”

“Hamph! I shouldu’t wonder if you were running
away.’

“Dou't you tell anybody,” said Andy, in a bantering
tone.

‘-Where did yon get the money to pay for your ticket ?”’

“What would you give to know ??

“You are inspudent,” said Godfrey, his cheek fushing.

“So are your questions,” suid Andy.

“I dare say you stole it.”

“Look here, Goufrey Preston,” said Andy, roused to in-
dignation by Uns insinuation, “you'd belter not Bay that
again if you know what's best for yourself.”

He advanced a siep with a threatening look, and God-
frey instinctively receded.

“Pat comes of my speaking to my inferior,’’ he said.

“You can’t do that.”

“What do you mean ??

“] dou’t Know anybody that’s inferior to you.’?

Godtrey turned on his heel wrathfally, muttering Some-
thing about a “iow beggur,’? which Andy, not hearing,
did not resent.

The whistle of the locomotive was heard, and the cars
eame along. —

With high anticipation of pleasure, Andy got aboard.
He had before him a journey of close upon a hundred
miles, and he wished it had been longer. He had never
been ningch of a traveler, and the scenes which were to
greet his eyes were all novel. He had heard a good dea?
of Boston also, andi he wanted to see it, It was a bright,
sunny niorning, and that made his journey the pieasanter,
though if it had rained pouring it would net have damp-
ened his spirits.

Besides Mre money which Miss Grant had given him to
defray his expenses, he had with him ten dollars of his
own. Since his mother had received the two donations
frony Colonel Preston she made Andy keep half his wages
fur his own'use. Tliese were now seven dollars a week,
sv he kept tree and a half, and of this sum was able to
jay up about half. So he had a supply of money m his
trunk, of which he had taken with him ten dollars,

“Maybe I’7}] see something I want to buy in the city,”
he suid to himseif,

I dou’t mean to dwell upon the journey. There is noth-
ing very exciting in a railway trip, even of a hundred
miles, now-a-days, unless indeed, the cars run off the
track, or over the embankment, and then it is altogether
too exciting to be agreeable. For the sake of my young
hero, whom I really begin to like, though he was *‘only
an Irish boy?’ I an glad to say tat nothing of that sort
took place; but in good time—about the time when the
clock ou the dla Sonth steeple indicated noon—Andy’s
traki dove into the Boston and Maine ruilway depot,
fronting on Huyniarket Square,

“luquire your way to Washington street.”

Tinat was the first direction that Andy had received from
Miss Priséia, and that was what our hero did first. ,

The question was addressed to a very civil young man,
who politely gave Andy the necessary directions. So ina
short tinie he reached Washington street by wuy of Oourt
street.

Tne next ‘thing was to inquire the way to the Mer-
chant’s Bank, Uiat being the one in which the ladies
owned the largest amount of stock.

“Where is the Merchant’s Bank?” asked Andy of a@ boy,
wliose biacking-bux denoted his occupation.

“1 show you, mister,” said the boy. ‘Come along.’’
His young guide, instead of taking him tothe bank, took
him to the side door of the ceurt liouse, aud said:

“Go in there.”

It was a massive ‘stone building, and Andy, not sus-
pecting that he was being fooled, wentin. Wandering at
random, he found’his way into a room where a Lrial was
gving on. That opened liis eyes.

“He cheated me,” thought Andy.
with him.’

He retraced his steps, and again found himself in the
street. His fraudulent young guide, with a grin on a face
not over clean, was dwailing his reappearauce.

CHAPTER XXV.
THE MERCHANT FROM PORTLAND.

“ook her2, young Chap,’ said Andy, “what made you
tell me that’was the Merchant’s Bank???

“Ign it?’ asked the bootbiack, with a grin.

“Ig the bank where you'll be wanted some time.
Shouldn't wonder if they’d ake a@ mistake aud lock you
up iustead of your inoney.”

“Have you got any moneyin the Merchani’s Bank ?”’
asked the other.

“Pm goin’ to see if they won’t give mesome. If you
hadn't cheated me, maybe Id have invited you to dine
with me at my hotel.”

“Where are you stoppin’?? asked the street-boy, not
quite knowing how much of Andy’s story to belicve.

“At the most fashionable hotel.”

“Parker's ??

“You're good at guessin’.
there?”

“T don’t know as they'd let me in,*’ said the boy, doubt-
fully; “but PH show you where there’s a Nice eatin’-
house, where they don’t charge half so much.’’

“ITwouldn'’t be fashionable enough for me.
have to dine alone.
your grandfather.”

Andy wenton, leaving the boy in doubt whether his jest
had really jost him a dinner,

Andy didn’t go to the Parker House, however. His ex-
penses were to be paid by the Misses Grant, and ‘he felt
that it wouldn’t be right to be extravagaut ut their ex-

nse,

“T shall come across an eatin’ house presently,’ he said
to himself, ;

Not jar off he found one with the bill of fare exposed
outside, with the prices. Andy examined it, and found
that was not an expensive piace. He really felt hungry
after his morning's ride, and determined, before he at-
tended to his business to geedinner. He accordingly en-
tered, and seated himself at one of the tables. A walter
came up and awaited his commands,

“Whatell you have?” he asked.

“Bring mea plate of roast beef, and a cup of coffee,”
said Andy, “and>be quick about it, for 1 haven’t eaten
anything for three weeks.”

“*Theu I don’t think one plate will be enough for you,’
said the waiter, laughing,

“It'll do to begin on,’? said Andy.

The So was quickly filled, and Andy set to work ener-
getically.

lt is strange how we run across acquaintances when we
leust expect it. Andy had no idea that he knew anybody
in the eating house, and therefore didn’t look round, feel-
ing no speCialinterestin the company. Yel there was one
present who recognized him as soon as lie entered, and
watched Tim with strong interest, The interest was bot
friendly, however, as might be inferred frum the scowl

“Maybe I'll get even

 

Perhaps you'd like to dine

T shall
See what comes of tryin’ to fool

 

 

with which he surveyed him, This will not be a matter of
surprise to the reader when [say that the Observer was
no other tian Fuirlax, whose attempt to rub Colonel Pres-
ion had been defeated by Andy,

He recognized the boy at once, both from his appear-
ance and his voice, and theeld feeling of resentineut ran
in his breast. To be foiled Was djsagreeable enough, but
to be foiled by a boy was also humminting, and he had
vowed revenge, ii ever an opportunity occurred. For (lus
reason he felt exultunt When he saw hibenemy walkipg
into the eating house,

“Pil follow him,” he said to himself, “and it'll go hard
if 1 don’t get even with him for that trick he played on
me,’

But how did it happen that Andy did not recognize Falr-
fax?

For two reasons; first, because the adventurer was
sitting behind him, and our hero faced the srout of the
rou, Next, had he seen him it was doubtful if he would
have recoguized a man Whom he was far from expecting
lo see. For Fuirfax was skilled in disguises, and uo lon-
ver Was the black Whiskered individual that we former!
Knew hi. Frost motives of prudence he had shaved o}
his black hair and whiskers, and now appeared in a red
wig, und whiskers of the same hue. Ifuny of my readers
would like to know how effectual this disguise is, let them
ry H, and b will guarantee that they won't Kuow llc
seives When they come to look mm the mirror,

After disposing of what he had ordered, Andy a!so Or
dered a'plate of apple dumpling, Which he ate with great
sulisfaction, '

“I woulun’t mind eatin’ here every day,’ he thought,
“Maybe Pll be in business here some day myself, aud
then il come here and dine.”

Fairfax wus throagh with his dinner, but waited unl
Andy rose, He then rose and followed him to the desk,
where both paid at the same time. He was cureless of
recognition, for he felt confident in his disguise,

“Now,” thought Andy, “f must go to the bank,*? ;

But he didn’t kuow where the bauk was. So when he
got into the street, he asked a géentienan whom he mets
“Sir, can you direct me to the Merchaut’s Bunk ??

“Itis in State street,’’ said the geulleman, “lam going
past it, s0 if you will come along with me, l will show

yOu. ;

“Thank you, sir,’? said our hero, politely. :

“Merchant's Bank?’ said Fairfax to himself, beginnin
to feel interested. “*] wonder what he’s going there for
Perhaps l can raise a little money, besides having my re-
venge.
nen? had an added inducement now in following our
nero,

When Andy went into the bank, Fairfax followed him,
He was in the room when Andy received the dividends,
and Wilh sparkling eyes he suw tat it was a thick roll of
viljs, representing, nO doubt, a Considerable sum of
mouey.

“That money must be mine,’’ he said to himself, ‘It
can’t be the boy’s. He must have been sent by some
other person. The loss will get him into trouble. Very
likely he» will be considered a thief, Tat would just suit
me.”’

Andy was careful, however. He put the money into 2
pocket-book, or rather wallet, with which he had been
supplied by the Misses Grant, put it in his inside pocket,
And then buttoned his cout up tight. He didu’t mean to
jose anything by carelessness, S

But tls was not his list business visit, There was
another bank in the same street where it was hecessary
for him-to- call and receive dividends. Aguill Fairfax
fullowed' him, wod aguin he saw Andy receive a cousider-
able sum of money. j ;

“There's fat. pickings here,” thought Fairfax. ‘Now 8
must manage iu seme way lo reheve him of that mouey,
There's allogether too much for a youngster like hint
Shouldn't wonder if the money belonged to that man t
tried to reb. Iso, all the betier.””

In this conjecture, as We know, Fairfax was mistaken,
However, it prade comparatively little difference to him
whose money it was, as long as there wasa chance of
his gelling il into. lis possession. The fact wus, that his
finances were hotiu a very flourishing Condition just at
present. “He could have done better to follow some
jionest and respectable business, and avoided ail the dis+
honest shifts aud infracuous of law te which he Was cont-
pelied to resort, but le had started wrovg aud it was
difficult to persuade him that even now it would have
been much better for him to amend his life and lis ways
In this slate of affairs he thought it.a great piece of good
luck that ie should have fallen in with a bey im charge of
a large suin of mouey, Whom, from his youth and inex+
perience, fie Would haye Jess trouble in robbing than ap
older person.

Andy had wlready decided how he would spend the afler-
noon. He had heard @ good deal about the Boston Mu-
seu, its large collection of curiosilies, and the plays thas
were periormed there. Que of the pieasantest anticipa-
tions lhe hud was ofa visit to this place, the Paradise of
country péopie. Now that his business was concluded,
he determined to go there at ouce. But first he must in-
quire the way.

Anes round, he saw Fairfax without recognizing

m.

“Can you direct me to the Boston Museum?" he asked,

“Oerluinly, with pleasure,” said Fairlax with alacritys
“In fact L am going there mysell. i Suppose you ure go-
ing to the aflernvon pel formance?”

eF eR, Sir.”

“Have you ever been there ???

“No, but | have heard a good deal aboutit. I don’t
live in the city.”

*“Nordo J,” said Fairfax. ‘1 am amerchant of Port-
land, Maine.” I have come to the city to buy my winter
stuck of goods. As lvunly come Lwice a year | generally
try to enjoy myself a litte while I am here. Do you slay
in the cily over night?

“Yes,” suid Andy.

“So did 1. Here is the museum.”

They had reached the museum, which, as some of my
readers are aware, is siluated In ‘Tremont street,

“Wego up these stairs,’ said Fairfax. “If you don’t
object we will take seats together,”

“IT shall be glad lo have company,’’ said Andy, politely.

Reserved seats adjoining were furnished, and the ad-
veuturer aud his intended viciim entered the museum.

CHAPTER XXVI.
SPINNING THE WEB,

There was a short interval before the play commenced.
This Andy improved by examining the large stock of curi-
osities Which have been gathered from all paris of the
world for the gratification of visitors. Fairfax kept at his
side, aud spoke freely of all they saw. There was some-
thing about him which seemed to Andy strangely fami
liar. Wasit in his features, orin lis voice? He could
nottell. Thered wig and whiskers misled him, Andy
finally set it down as a mere Chance resembiance to some
one whom he had met formerly, ad dismissed it from his
mind.

At length the Wicreasing crowds pouring into the lec-
ture-rouim reminded them thatthe play was about to be-
zin.

. “Shall we goin and take our seats?” said Fairfax.

Andy assented, and they were speedily in their seats.

1 do not propose to speak of the play. It was a uovelty
to Andy to seea dramatic representation, and he thor-
oughly epjoyed it. Fairfax was more accustomed to such
things, bul pretended to be equally interested, feeling that
in this way le Could Ingrauate himself better into Audy’s
confidence.

Al jast it was over, and they went out of the building.

“How did you like it?” asked Fairlax,

‘“Tip-lop,” suid Andy, prompuy. “Don’t you think
so ??

“Capital,” answered Fairfax, with simulated delight,
“JT am glad I had company. 1 dou’t enjoy anything half
as well alone, By the way, where do you pass the
night?’

“At some hotel—I don’t know which ??

“Suppose you go to the Adams House, I’ve got to
stop over night somewhere, and it might be pleasanter
going in company.”

“Whereis the Adams House ?’!

“On Washington street, not very far off—ten or fifteen
minutes’ Walk.”?

“Jf is a good place I’m willing.”? 7

‘it is an-excelieut hotel, aud moderate in price. We
might go up there now, and engage a room, ‘and then
spend the evening where we like.”?

“Very well,” said Andy. }

Yhey soon reached the Adams House—a neat, unpre-
tending hotel—aud entered, They walked up to the desk
and Fuirfax spoke to the clerk. :

“Can you give us a room?”

“Certainly. Euter your names.?

“Shall we room together?” asked Fairfax, calmly.

Now Andy, though he had had no objection to, going
to the theater willis present companion, did neotcare
to take 2 room ¥ rth a stranger, of Whom he Knew noth-
ing. He mig a very respectuble man, but somehow,
Andy did not know why, there was something in his
muuner which inspired a litte repulsion. Besides he re-
membered that he had considerable money with him,
and that consideration alone rendered it imprndent for
him to put himself in the power of acompanion. So he
Said a littie awkwardly:

“J think we'd better take separate rooms.°’?

“Wery weil,’ said Fairfax, in a tone of indifference,
though he really felt very much disappointed, “] thought
it might have been a little more sociai to be togetter.??

Andy did not take the hint, except so far as to say:

“We cun take rooms alongside of each other.”

“I can give you adjoining rooms, if you desire,” said
the clerk.

Fairfax here entered his name in the hotel register as
“Nathaniel Marvin, Portland, Maine;’’ while Andy put
down his real address, His conipanion’s was of course
fictitious. He did uot venture to give the name of Fair-
fax, as that might be recognized by Andy as that of the
highwayman, with whose little plans he had interfered.

A servant was Called, and they went up to their rooms,
which, as the clerk had promised, were found to be ad-
joining. They were precisely alike.

“Very comfortable, Mr. Burke,” said Fairfax, in a tone
of apparent satisfaction. “I think we Shall haye a com-
fortable night.”

“| guess so,” said Andy.

“Are you going to stay here now?”

“No; 1’m goin’ to wash my face, and then take a walk
round, I want to see something of the city.’?

“$ think I'll lie down a while; I feel tired. - Perhaps we
shall meetlater, If not, I shail see you in the morning.”

“All right,’? said Andy.

In a few minutes he went out,

[TO BE CONTINUED. ]

 

 

 

 

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Profit by the Millions of Capital

Now being Expended at the

FAMOUS GARDEN CITY
Mr, A. T, STEWART, the Merchant, Millionaire.

The great and growing necessity that has caused thousands to
seek homes in the suburbs, away trom the over-crowded tene-
ments and uvbealthy upartinents which they occupied in the
sity. led us to adopt the plan of monthly payments, as a means to
induce the multitude to seek the pure and health-given atinos-

tere of the immediate suburbs. We were the first to offer the

‘acilities, und the thousands Who have patronized u3 can attest
the value of our plan, and its benefit to themselves,

GARDEN CITY PARK

Those who Desire to Speculate,

AND TO THOSE

WHO DESIRE CHEAP HOMES,

AT THE VERY

 

 

Small Outlay, $5 a Month)

FOR EACH LOT PURCHASED.

 

 

We do not deem it necessary to enter int0 A history or Mr;
Stewart’s laudableand wigan’ euterprise, as the press has exten-
sively commented upon it. We assume that with his acknowl-
edged business tact. sagacity and capital, be has projected a
feasible, systematic undertaking which cannot fail. Already be
jhas added to his original purchases, at very large advances upon
first p ices, Land near hisimprovemenis has increased several
hundreds per cent., and as his plans are developed the rise will
continue, util land contiguous will be increased almost increa-
ibly. Wesubmit thatif any class of the community deserves to
be benefitted by that immense outlay, it is the industrious and

rudent, who manage to save something of their small income,

ye have placed the prices of our Garden City Park upon a basis
of fuir value for to-dty, and we propose to receive $5 per month
from purcliasers, so that they can buy one or more lots, accord-
ing to their means, The land 1s excellent, and has been under
cultivation, and is located in a well settled community.

As Mr, Stewart’s operations progress this property will be large-
ly benefitted by them. Very many persons engaged during the

ay in New York City, reside at a greater distance; and to those
who have work at home, this location being very healthful, pre-
sents an opportunity whereby they can live comfortably in a cosy
home at a small cost.

 

 

GUIDE TO PURCHASERS.

Be at Store 355 Third Avenue at 9.30 A. M., togo with our Sales-
men and examine the yeceeee Ladies shown every courtesy.
Maps containimg full information mailed on receipt of stamp for
postage. Persons residing out of this city can select from our Map
and enclose us $5 per lotin a registered letter, or P. O, Order,
and we will forward a contract for the lots selected. Address

BENJ. W. HITCHCOCK,

, 355 THIRD AVENUE, SEW Y@2uz.

N. B.—Those who prefer to pay in full at once will he allewed.
5 per vent discount, and receive warranty deeds immpediségiy.

 

ATCHES, suitable for spectilative purposes. Send for
price list to LIONEL JACOBS, No. $ Astor House, N. Y¥.

w31-4.

“r, for the new
AGENTS WANT work Hat
Carson, by his comr:ide and friend, D. W. C. Peters, U.S. A.
The most, popular book published. 600 pages, beautifully illus-
Poor Circulars free. DUSTIN, GILMAN & CO., Hartford, Conn.

[OTH PATCHES, FRECKLES
FOR MOTH PA‘ » FRECKLE
and Tan, ask your druggist for Perry’s Moth and Freckle Lotion.
It is reliable and harmiess, Also for his celebrated ComEDONE
and PIMPLE REMEDY, the great SKIN MEDICINE for PIMPLEs,
BLACK-HEADS, or FLESHWORMS. Prepared only by B, ©. PERRY,
the noted SKIN Doctor, 49 Bond street, New York, 32-4t

REE SAMPLE. Agents wanted. Ladies’ Combin-
atiou Needle Book and Port Monnaie with
hromos. Send stamp. DAN &Co., New Bedford, Mass. 32-13

 

 

 

R34 RIULTES.—Liaies’ Oracle, 30 cts. Book of Wonders,
25 cts. Wishing Cards, 30 cts, Invisible Photos, per pack,
25 cts. Funfor All, I5cts. The Vanishing Card, 15 cts. Magic
Cards, 25 cts. The Great Beard Secret, 10 cts. To Curl Straight
Hair, l0cts. gap 100 Wonders; 13 Secrets, anit a Curiosity, gratis,
for 2 stamps, Address THE CURIOSITY CO., 808 Walnut st.,
Philadelphia, Pa. 32-4,

PROFITABLE
EMPLOYMENT.

Work for Everybody. Good Wages. Permanent Employment.
Menand Women wanted. Fall particulurs free. Address W. A.
HENDERSON & Co., Cleveland, O., or St. Louis, Mo, 11-26,
MON ity MADE RAPIDLY with Stencil and Key-

4 Check Outfits, Catalogues, samples, full
paticulars PreK, 8S. M. SpxNOER, 17 Hanover st., Boston, 14-52t

OR a First-Class Dress or Business Hat go direct to the
A ee Espenscheid, 118 Nassau street.
W22-15t,

20 SHEETS OF CHOICE MUSIC, $1.

A choice selegtion of Vocal and Instrumental Musie, by Strauss,
Lizt, Thomas ahd other popuiar Authors. Any ten mailed for $1.
Send Stamp for ue ee Address,

BENJ. ye HITCHCOCK, Publisher.
w24-12 No. 355 THIRD AVENUE, NEW YORK.
H N. SQUIRE, 97 Fulton st., N. X& .—Watches, Fine

e Jeweiry, aud Sterling Silverware, first quality, and sold on
sinallest profits, Every article guaranteed, Diamonds a specialty,

P PLAYS!

 

 

PLAYS!

Home Annsements, Send for a Catalogue of 17,500,
o SAMUEL FRENCH & SON , 122 Nassau St, N.Y,

«1
$l A DA'Y.—Employment for all. Patent Novelties.
w33-13 EO. FELTON, 119 Nassau street, N. Y~

CATALOGUE, 64 pages. 3000 Pictures, Whole-
sile Prices, Sent by mail on receipt of two 3 cent
stamps, or for 25 cts, with a Fine Steel Engtuving
worth £0 cts, G.E, Perine, 66 Readestreet, N.Y.

a
> W In quantities to suit, at Whole-
saie Pri 5 Be df *
Rt ir @- or Ks SCRIPTIVE Sriox-List, “a5
$3

 

 

 

& J,
PARSELLS, 36 John St, N, Y,

to Agents. 54 new articles and

AOO xen AMILY PAPER in America. Send
mip tor sanples. Family Journal,

w33-7.

300 Broadway, N.Y.

T z 7

HOW LO, SWI M..

epee te 50 Tata . ‘Agate

imine WEEKLY, S. R. WELLS, 389
Broadway, N.Y.

a BWR Be

T ga Beautiful CHROMO, Racy

SENT FREE bie cones Ser

ties, Books, Games, efe. Free tur address

Teachers, Address LIPPER, Elsie, Mich. :
No. 683 Broad-

Th mys a, 33 Bre
TH K ELAS | IG TRU Ss way, New York
City), worn éomfortably night and day, soon permanent] cures
Rupture; patronized by government, Sold cheap; 2 ree
offices in the principal cities of the Union, Trusses sent by mail.
Circulars tree on application. *

Nobody uses metal springs,
RUPTURE. ine poe and iron hoop in-
struments of torture, ironically calied Trusses. Tue Surgeen-
General aud the more eminent surgeons Low use the Elastic

Truss, 623 Broadway, N. Y. City.
$3 A WEEK-—work foreverybody. Men and agents wanted.

 

‘Address J. B. DARK, Germantown, Philadelphia, Pa.

Seven Dollar Lots 25x100 ft
At BABYLON, L. I.
NO MONTHLY PAYMENTS.
No Charge for Deed...
NO AUCTIONEER’S FEES.

Lots surveyed and staked free of charge. For seven dol.
lars ou. can buy a first class building lot,
25xt ft. in the town of Babylon, L. E., and re-
ceive a full covenant aud warranty deed. »

No extra expense for auything.

LONG ISLAND LOT COMPANY,
115 Broadway, N.Y., Reom 11,
Evening Office, 644 East Eleventh Street, N.Y.
34.2, ANDREW NOTTING, Agent.

OUR KNOWLEDGE Box.

A Few Paragraphs Werth Remembering.

 

QUESTIONS ANSWERED AND INFORMATION WANTED.—
L. S. L.—INVISIBLE INKS.—The following are the most common
invisible inks: 1. Sulphate of copper and sal ammoniac, equal
paris, dissolved in water; writes colorless, but turns yellow when
tieated. 2. Onion juice, like the last. 3. A weak infusion of
tq@ils; turns black when moistened with weak copperas water,
4. A weak solution of sulpbate of iron; turus blue when mots-
tened with a weak solution of prussiate of potash, aud black
with iofusion of galls, 5. The diluted soiutions of nitrate of sil-
yer aud terchloride of gold darken when exposed to tne sun-
light. 6. Aquafortis, spirits of salt, oil of vitrivl, common salt or
saitpeter, dissolved in a large quantity of water, turns yellow or
brown when heated. 7. Solution of nitromuriate of cobalt turns
green when heated, and disappears again on cooling. 8. Solu-
tion of acetate of cobalt, to which a little niter has been aaded,
becomes rose-colored when heated and_ disappears on cooling.
......0. €. U—TO MAKE SoDA-WATER.—The simplest method tor
asmail quantity is to make the reat soda-water, from which the
name is derived. Take 40 grains of bi-carbonate of soda and 35
grains of tartaric acid, dissolve each separately in about 4 ounces
of water, and pour the two solutions together, when @ highly ef-
fervescent genuine soda-water will be the result. If sweetened
with sugar and flavored with sirups, these ingredients must be
mixed with tartaric acid solution before pouring the soda svlu-
tion. We cannot say, however, that this soda-water is in every
respect equal to that manufactured on a large scale in our cities.
There are two points of difference. The aicthod just described
develops tree carbenic acid in the mixture, but forms at the same
time a tartarate of soda, which the purchaser has to drink, It
may do him good; but some persovs do not like it, even dis-
guised with sirups or sugar, The manufactured soda-water really
fostains vo soda. It is made by foreing under pressure into pa
water cabouic acid derived fom marble and sulphuric
The second difference is due to the use of pressure, which ca
the water to receive more carbonic acid than it would other
contain. You cannot make this Kind without a special appar
LD Bora: vs. BE. G. S—We know nothing concerning the jot
named. Cosmetics generally contain ous ingredicit
Try the following recipe. Mix glycerine with water, toget!
with a small quantity of alcohol; add enough cologne water te
give it a pleasant odor. Toe removaloft ireckles of long stan
ing is adifhcult matter, but the foregoing preparation will, w
are assured, improve the compiexion. ....S. 4. 2.—We cann
ald you........Buluh and Skylark.—We cannot tell you....... :
H. iWalter.—l. Powdered niter. 2. No. 3. From $1810 $20 per
week in good times........ ZL. W. G.—tTry castor gil and bay ruin.
If they fail to bring it out shave frequently...... A. kh. J. 0. T.,
Mich.—1. Write a line asking her permission, Your own good
sense Will dictate the languagego be employed, 2. You can buy
itcheaper than you can makeig Binless you have experience in
its manufacture. 3. Tomase PAstx of a superior quality, that
will not spoil when kept iu @ cool plaee for several months, 1 is
necessary to add dissoived alum as a preservative. When a few
quarts are required, dissolve a dessert spoonful of alu in two
quarts of water, Put the water in a tin pail that will hold six or
eiglt quarts, as the flour of which the paste is made will expand
greatly while itis boiling. As svon as the tepid water lias cooled
stir in’ good rye or wheat. flour, until the liquid has the cousist-
ency ot cream. See that every lump of flour is crushed betore
placing the vessel over the fire, To prevent scorching the paste,
place over the tire a dish-kettle or wash-boiler, partly filled with
water, aud set the tin pail containing the material for paste in
the water, permitting the bottom to rest on a few large pails of
pebbles, to prevent excessive heat. Now add a teaspoonful of
powdered resin, and Jet ic cook until the paste has become as
thick as stiff gruel, when it will be ready fer use. Keep tina
tight jur, and it will last for a long time. It too thick, add cold
water, and Stir it thoroughly. Such paste will hold almost as
wellas gine. 4, Various SIRUPS FOR SODA-WATER.—I. SIMPLE
SIRUP.—Take of waite sugar, fourteen pounds; water, one gal-
lon. Dissolve with the aid of agentie heat, strain, and when
cold add the whites of two eggs, previously rubbed with a por-
tion of the sirup and mix thoroughly by agitation, The egy al-
bumen is added to produce froth, 2. Lemon Sirup.—Take of oil
ot lemon, twenty-five drops; citric acid, ten drams; simple siruy,
one gallon. Rub the oil of lemon with the acid, add a small por-
tion of sirup and mix. 3, ORANGE Sirup.—Take of oil of orange,
thirty drops; tartaric acid, four drams; simple sirup one gai-
lon. Mix as above. 4 VANILLA SiruPp.—Take of fluid extract of
vanilla, one ounce; citric acid, half an ounce; of simple sirup, one
gallon. Rub the acid with a portion of the sirup, add the extract
of vanilla, and mix. 5, GINGER SiRUP.—Take ot tiveture of gin-
ger, four ounces; white sugar, seven pounds; water, half a gailon,
Heat the water and sugar until the suyar is dissolved, raise to the
boiling point, then gradually add the tincture of ginger, stirring
briskly atter each addition. 6 SARSAPARILLA Sirup.—Tuke ot
simple sirup, one'galion; compound sirup of sarsapurilla, to suit
your taste; powdered extract of liquorice, ene ounce; oil of sas-
safvas and oil ot wintergreen, filteen drops; oil of anise, ten
drops. Rub the oils with powdercd liquorice, add a portion of
sirup, rub smoothly, and mix the whole together by agitation. 7.
ORGxEAT SrRUP.—Take of cream sirup, hail a pint; vanilla sirup,
one pint; simple sirup, half a pint, oilof bitter alinonds, five
drops. » Mix, 8. CoFFuK SrRUP.—Take of ground roasted coffee,
four ounces; boiling water, two. pints; sugar, four pounds, Ly
fuse tue catlee in the water, until cold, strain, add the sugar, and
make a sirup. 9, STRAWBERRY SikvP.—Take of fresh, ripe
strawberries, ten quaris; white sugar, twenty-four pounds; water,
a quarter ofa gelion. Spread a portion of the sugar over the
fruit in layers, ict itstand four or tive hours, express the juice,
strain, washing out the mark with water; add remainder of su-
gar and water, raise to the boiling point, and strain. 10. Rasp-
BERRY SIRUP.—Proceed as for strawberry sirup.:,,-. &. kB.
and Ignorance.—See preceding recipes...... Noodle John, Norine
Gilbert, Jack, California Boy, Rose, Lone Wolf, Shortcake, A, E,
I. O. U., Whaler Boy, Lou E., Fred Webster, G: K. Moore, Jack-
sonville, Harry G., Experinrenter, J... Leman, Jolin J. C., A.
Ovuntributor, Edwin Booth, Auditor, Gentle Savage, B. G., Guliel-
ma.—Your letters have been received, aud wall ve answered as
soon as possible, >

 
 
   
   
 
 
  
  

 

 

MEDICAL, DEPARTMENT.

Bunker Hill.—Bathe the patts affectéd in cold water, and wear
@ suspensary bandage. :

A Virginia Subscriber.—l, We know nothing of the institution
or the person named, 2. Consulta good ramily doctor iu your
own section of the country.

“Car.’—For itching see No, 9.

Modoc Chief No. 1.—Consult an oculist.

Blue Fauce.—l. Linguid circulation of the blood. 2, Ltve gen-
erously, and take plenty ot outdoor exercise. ,

Needful.—Always, in such cases, consult a regular practitioner.

Canoza.—Dou't study so much. Take as much outdoor exer-
cise us you can durivg the day or in the evening. Let uedicine
alone,

Newark.—1. Try to forget that you have a pulse or a stomach.
The more you dwell on the subject the more morbid you will be-
come. 2. The preparation you refer to, judgiug by the bark,
etc, of which it is composed, is good for any debilitated person,
but we should prefer a preparation of calisaya, bark and iron
Try it. Almost all druggists have it. re

Litian, R. S. Lyons and J. J. S.—We cannot aid you without
knowing more concerning the trouble,

G. P. H., A New Reader and Kip Van,—1. Use the sitz-bath}; that
is, sit in a tub ot water, with the water above the hips for at least
ten minutes. If you are subject to colds keep something over the
shoulders, 2, Yes,

J. C, F. D.—Syringe out your ears with warm castile soap-suds,
and Wipe dry with a fine towel.

Very Unhappy.—You were answered in No, 22.

Dd. L Hecht the druggist’s a liquid preparation of calisaya
bark andivon. Take a dessert spooutul tree times a day about
an hour alter each meal. It is an excellent tonic.

Nat Strong, Timothy Topnot, 8. U. F., V. T,, V.E. D., A. B.
C., Wilfmid C., Jessie, N., O. §., Ceylon, Amasters, John R., Ross,

+ Dibka es, A Reader, Light, rrowtul. Sinner, J, A., Joha
Ourry, F. M. C., Repentant Sinner, H.W. Baitwell, C, K. M.,
8. J. N., Tommie, Excelsior, Robert, 8. P. A., Wilkins Micawber,
A Sufferer, Lawyer’s Clerk, Dayton, M. F., From a Sufferer,
Weilk-Minded Individual, Norine, J. H. Lawton, P. F., S. Black-
smith, Constant N. ¥. Weekly Reader, P. B,,. Frank ¥., Dark
Rings Pass Williams, Laura B., Walter B, B., Geo. W. A,, O. K.
C., C. Ainsworth, Roue, A Three Yeurs’ Reader, Blucher, Zingari,
Old Reader, Roxs, Za Bap, Wrestling Joe, A.C. J., Miserable
Sinner, A R tormer, Sufferer, Henry G., Caleb H, T.F. J.,
Hard Pill, Welshman, Reformer, Heart-Broken, Bradford, Wm,
| Hall, Susie, Nicodemus, Orange Blossom, F. D,—Your_ letters

have been received, and will be auswered as sven as possible,

 

 

 

 

  

THIEF—ROBBER—PIRATE,

BY EDWARD WILLETT.

 

Infant mirth and childish pleasures,
Baby beauty, youthful balm;

These were once our cherished treasures,

Garnered up in heaping measures,
Sown and reaped in springtime’s calm.

Time’s hard hand, with flowers to mask it,
Stole away our joys too soon,
Stole the fruit that blessed our basket,
Stole the jewels from our casket,
Thieving through the nights of June,

Time stole all our young romances,
Blooming cheek and laughing eye,
All our childish vagrant fancies,
All our yout :ful innocences—
Took them as he passed us by.

Manhood brought us high endeavor,
Earnest action, noble thought;

Stronger, heartier than ever,

We believed that nought could sever
From our life what life had wrought.

Time, the robber, horny-handed,
Caused our happy hearts to bleed.

Stand?! deliver! he commanded,

Stripped us clean and left us stranded,
Poor, and lone, and weak indeed,

Time, the unhung ‘villain, sought us,
Knowing well our toil and pain,

Met us, by the threat he caught us,

Robbed us there, and sternly taught us
All our labor was in vain,

Last of all, when years had left us
Drifting on a sullen sea, os

Storms had beaten and bereft us, —

Wayes had washed us, rocks had cleft us,
Harsher work was yet to be,

Time, the pirate, came a-sailing,
Cruising on the trangul! main,

O’er the helm his black flag trailing,

Heeded not our cry and Wailing,
Robbed and routed us again.

Walk the plank! This order ended
All the work that was to be.

Just a moment’s space suspended,

Then we dropped, and downward tended,
Time had met Eternity !

Nick Whiffles.

[“Nick Whiffles’ was commenced in No. 18. Back numbers
can be obtained from any News Agent in the United States.}

CHAPTER XLII.
THE DUMB SQUAW.

Goliah Stout took up his Jeremiade as follows:

“What's the good wauderin’ bout in this way, cap’n?
It’s been four days sence we left Fort Garry, and we've
done nothin’ bat tramp, tramp. Didu’t think you’s goiw
to run sich a rig, or L shouldn’t come with ye. You and
Saui don't seem to be made 0’ Common siut, but of some
kind o? hard material that it Stan’ Wear and tear ‘thought
showin’ it. Don’t know nothin’ iu the worid where | be!
Shall fall in with some o’ them p’son sarpeuls, yet!”

“We were muci opposed to having your company. You
are at liberty lo retrace your SLeps Wuenever you Chovuse,”?
replied Kenneth,

“IUs easy ‘nough to talk bout goin’ back, bat I don’t
see liuw it is tu be done, 1 vow! should soon git Jost if I's
totry it. ‘Tulese myself, would be the crowing pint ol
wll my losses. And here’s this pesky Ingin woman that
come trotlin’ arler us the second mornin’ & hossback, and
hus stuck to us ever sence, Whut in the name of grief
does sie want, I wonder! She’s a spiteful jade, anybody
ean see; there's paint enough on her ugly mug to paint a
meetin’ house. She makes me oucomfortabie, that critter dues.
Puts me in mind ot Perscilla Jane—be hanged it she doit!”

The personage to whom Goliah alluded was a tail, thin-visaged
squaw, mounted upon a large bony horse, which walked leisurely
belind the wuisky trader, whose place in the order o. marci:
was invariably in the rear, Ontue sceond morni: g of Kenneth’s
departure from Lhe fort, which had taken place agreeably to his
intentions, the Indian woman was seen piles aiter his littie
party, Which consisted of Saul and Goliah, the Quaker having
set off alone soon after the departure of Nick Wihiffles, This un-
welcome addition to the number acted ina very siugular man-
ner. She sign fied in yarivuus ways tuat she was dumb. In re-
gard to her purpose they could learn nothing, but what proved
most annoying was the tact that she persistently refused to leave
them. They tried many ¢xpedients to rid themselves of such an
incumbrance, but signally failed im such attempts; she adhered
tu them like the Old Man ot the sea to Sinbad the sailor.  Dis-
couraged, at length, they submitted to what they could not help,

 

as THE NEW YORK WEEKLY, @3= 7

 

 

you'll find new sizns and lofts 0’ tracks which no pains has been
taken to conceal, Whatever or whoever has gone ahead, it is
plun enough that a considerable body of lugins has follered.””

A single glance was sufficient to assure the young man that the
guide wascorrect, This complication was perplexing. From the
first moment on finding the trail, ne had entertained the hope
that he was tracking the flight of Mark Morrow; vat every step
was taking hin nearer to his beloved Syiveen, That hope was
now weakened. Uucertainty aud doubt biunted the pleasure of
expectation, In desponding silence he trod in the hurried steps
of Saul, casting, occasionally, a vexed aud annoyed look behind
upon the two most unwelcome companions of the journey. But

rs. Stout was one not easily abashed. Her assurance was equal
tu any emergency—her spirit so sharp aud combative that no
amount of rebuke or puree could quell it. There appeared
to be two things that she feared, viz; the Indians, and that her
husband shouid be diappy. Goliah, knowing this tact, thought
he might turn it to his advantage.
~ “Mister, what tracks be these ?? “he inquired:

. “Tudtan tracks, of course,” returned Keutieth.

“Tngins!” exclaimed Priscilla Jane. in great astonishment.
“Nick Whifflestol@me over and over xgin that there wasn’t none
o the *tarnal, murderin’ critters within five hundred miles 0?
Selkirk. You're tryiu’ to. annoy aud torment ine, sume as every-
body else does; fur you know weil nough if there’s anythin’ that
throws me inio a cold perspiration, and sets me a shiverin’, it’s
them skulpin’, burnin’, mareiless heathens!”

“I greathy regret, madame,” answered, Kenneth, seriously,
“that you have such a settled aversion to savages; tor every mo-
ment lessens the distance between us and them, Tn truth, this
expedition promised to bring us in contact with them from the
very outset. It was lmprudent and foolharcy in you tu lollow
u8S Upon such an enterprise. Indeed, I wonder much at your
temerity.”

“i allers was and allers shall be a deceived and. bamboozled
woman!” ejaculated Mrs. Stuut. “I do wish tut Nick Whiftles
may never Know Lhe joys ot matrimony and counubial bliss. He
ougut to be ashamed to’the longest day of bis lite for the trick
that he’s played upon the onhuppiest and jnujurdest of my sex!
Sv these are real Pugin trueks, be they t Youre trampin’ right
aloug arter “em, aim’t ye? Why, for, the Lord’s sake, don’t you
turn and go Uolher way, jest as lust as ever you can yY You want
to drag the poor, persecuted, uprotectea woman right in among
the tomahawks ol the savages.’

“Who cures tor the piso sarpentst’? cried Goliah, valorously,
glad to see her feehegs interested in any object but himself.

“Ou, you're terrible Courageous all ty once! A woman witha
broyimstick Could make you run, aud you know it.”

“Let the pisuu sarpents come!’ reiterated Goliah, raising his
hand in solemn invocation te the dominant guds of the couutry.

Keuueth looked at Saul, and smiled,

“Yes,” said Saul, novaing his head, understandingly; ‘he’s
ready to jump trom the try pan inte the fire.’

“That homely saylug may oiten be applied to the actions of
men,” Kelseta replied. “Lt isoulinost mignt,”? he added, anou.
“The sun will svon sink from sight. How mucl longer wiilthis
uncertainty coutinuc ?”’

“Till we have jound Mark Morrow, and settled accounts with
him,” rejvined the guide, with emphasis. “Poor Rosebud!” he
sighed, and uncousciousiy quickened his pace.

Mrs. Stout cumplain a bitterly. She reproached, alternately,
Saul, Kenneth, and Goliah, for dragging ber sure datiger in that
pitiless mununer. To remonstranves and recriminations she tinally
added tears, with hysteric sobs, which did not eease until the
guide ordered a temporary halt,

CHAPTER XLIV.
MEETING ON THE PRAIRIE,

Nick Whiffles remained in a ceath-like torpor until the. first
rays of the morning sun kissed his tanned face. Whether from
the habit ol being ustu at Wat hour, or whether the sunshine
warmed tum, or Whether trom the natural reaction of the s)s-
tei, Certainly from sume oue of these Causes the trapper began
to revive. He gradually becaiwe seusivie of the caresses of the
dog, and finally of bis coudition. Ol course Nick Whiftles would
nog mares to Lhe horizuutal position wheu there was a possibuily
ot his assuming any otver; su by Virtue of effort, he raised bis
wounded body and sat up, Culamity mauifested Nis joy al this
sign of ammmation vy Increased attentions. Nick gazed around
vacantiy, but Lie sigutor tue cog put him right again in his rec-
oilections.

“We're dead, Is’pose, ain’t we ?” he said, looking inquiringly
at histriend, “You're asperit, aud m.a sperit, I alow, but the
speritol a dog iouoks a pesky sight like au airiily doy. it does
by mighty! And these juny iegs o? miue ‘pear so much like them
1 used tu own Waen Ls below, that d’m a good ’eal puzzied ’bout
the naiuron?vem, I ougiter Know my own Jegs weil enough,
*cuuse I used em a sigut, tust aud last, and te ould be baru to
find another pulr that bas straddied about over the perarics so
much. They aliers louked lke a pair-o” compasses, my legs did.

 

to gracious! sin’t got where the wicked ceuse trom trouvliu’,
yet. On, Lord, no!”

‘The trapper atteapted to put those dubious limbs to a practical
test; but uaving partially succeeded iu getiing upon them, tuin-
bled duwu again.

“is a ?lurnul ways to fall upon the tops of these shaky hop-
poles, but it cauw’t ve helpeu. ahere’s timber enough in’em, if
were Ot it had Leen put inte thickuess, and less Im ieagth. Well,
Lshailseon lose ail confidence jn sich walkeis as these, Shuil
ave to dopt Goliath Stout's system ov’ slanniu’, I gucss.””

Nick threw w philosophical glauce at his dog, wud added: “T
dowt care much bout trouble myselr, Dut dowt hke to see you
in sic &@ conuemmed uilikuty. Bat you cau’t say I didn’t stick
tu ye. You’li never have it tothimk outuac Nick Wiithes run off
aud left ye, like a pean skunk, Lue miniute the diffikuty got the
better of ye. Tiere’s oue thing Icaune ao,” he wenton, “Lean
yo back tu iust priaciples; uw ol can’t Walk, lean creep. Iean,
by ulighty! If there’s any Wuter bereabouts, Vil fiud i, and ivil
du lie & Leap vo’ good.”

Nick tried tunis’ expedient, and it worked so well that he soon
found himself in the neigiborheood of & spring. He was within
a lew feet of it, aud his ¢yes aready reiresiued by the clear, cold
beverage, When he saw, al a SLULL distauce from ji, @ man will
wis back tuwurd hum, It was the Quuker, Niek could uot mis-
take those athletic propyrtious, ‘Theirapper’s progress had been
su Doiseless Uial it Mad not disturbed im, Nick’s Lhirst belng
luuperative, be drank hastily, Lhentucned bis attention to Avram
Humanet, Who seemed Jost iu prolound meditation. He crept
nearer to this, lo b.tn, alveolus being, With a tveling of irre-
sisuble curiusily., Le perceived, wilh surprise, that be was staud-
Ing beside bie bocy of au Indian, at the upturned face of which
he Was gazing Livughtiully. lo his anXiely to get a betier view,
Nick raised himseli by a jumb, which, breaking with asoud cruck,
caused the Quaker tu turn. Le touk two or three hurricd steps
voward tie Vapper, Wilh His bhabc het uplilted, when, secing Nick,

 

trusting that she would, by and by, leave them of her own ac-
cord, . :
“DLL be skinned,” resumed Gollah, ‘i

 

 

this was the name

Jane. It
@ pitss for cousins.” Then
in. Cap'n, you dont Kuow what I’ve gone through
With, with that woman. The fact iz, she never tound anythin’
in the world that was jest right; theve was always a flaw in
everythin, Nothiuy’ was geod enough, and I or somebody else
Was eternatly tu blame for it, No critter ever tried harder nor I
have, tust and Jast, to git a foothold in the world aud a position
and independevge, when I couid stan’? on my. own. bottom, as
were. But Perscilla never wanted me to stan’; she'd ruther
seé me down, any time. It I begun to’cumalate a little and git
on my feet, she sted ready te trip me up aid lay me sprawlin’,
so tuspeak., She liked to see me sprawliw, did Perscilla Jane,
The fatter I was, the harder she wason me. It’s a mournful
tiing to think ou,” coutinued Gohah, with a sighs “but lL know
I shall never be able tu stan’ Ul Perseilia’s in eaven aud ma
widower.”

Koth Saul and Kenneth observed that Goliah’s lamentation
had a curious effeet on the dumb squaw. Her brows grew scowl-
ing, her eyes flashed fury, het tegth ground vidlently together,
te sprang from her horse and cleuched both hands in Goliah’s

1air,

“Oh, you wretch! you Hottentot! you Algerine! you miserable
mouster of the arth! Pil teach you to revile and slander, aud
shamefully vilify aud outrage the wife that’s been a comfort
aud stay, and # helpmate to ye ever sence she was tool enough
to throw herself away upon & man that was x deceivin’, decate-
ful hypocrite, unworthy to be the husbanu of sich a young, un-
suspecting critter as 1 was!” screamed the dund squaw, miracu-
lously finding the use of ber tongue.

“Los Perscilla Jane ‘herself, 1 vow?’ exclaimed Goliah, tho-
roughly amuzed and astounded.

Kenneth and saul could not refrain from Janghing at the mis-
fortune that had thus, in a moment, overwheimed the unfortu-
nate trader. Priscilla Jane plucked out bandtuls of hair and
gave them to the winds; she beat, she pinched, she clapper-
clawed his face; she poured upon him an unmeasured wrath;
she choked, she shook, she cowed him with # torrent of abuse;
she played terrible tunes upou histympanum, keeping thine with
leet; hands, tootn and nails, Saul, at length, out of compassion,
took away the lizress. Goliah Was in a wretched plizht. He
was ready fo renew his Jercmiade with tenfold melancholy, but
Priscilla Jane had the floor; she stormed him into quiet.

“fo think what I might u been and what I bel” she said, elo-
quently, “To think that I might arid in my carriage, instead 0’
tramipocsin’ the ’tarnal peraries a hossback, ou a eritter thit’s
high in bone and Jow in flesh, and sharp enough to cut a solitry
womanititwo. Ob, the injuries that is heaped mountings high
ou iny sex! Oh, the rights that ure wronged, and the wrongs
that the unfeelin’ brates of men think right!”

Mrs. Stout darted her iudex fiogertoward Goliah, and cried out
on the highest stilts of high tragedy:

“Monster! restore to Ine iy inpocence! Give me back my
maiden honor!”

Then to the guide:

“Solomon Vanders, if you be a man, draw your pistils and blow
me to the heart! bury your huntiu’-kniie in this dissolute bo-
som, and leave my bones to whiten on the lonely swells of the
rollin’ peraries!”

“Stop your clack, woman!” rotorted Saul, angrily. “If you
don’t, Vil run away and leave you tothe tender mercies of the
the Ingitis, as suce’s my Name’s Saul Vander!’

“You've tricd that, a’ready, but thanks to ny wit, you couldn't
doit, ’Lwas a pooty piece o’ business in you to” take Goliah out
here, jest to git him away frou the wife ot Lis bosom,” replied
Mrs. Stout, bristling consiverable toward Saul.

Kenneth undertook to pacity her; but be found it a task much
easier purposed than executed, His benevolent intentions were
rewarded by a dcgree Of success; but despite his best endeavors
she carried u sul.en face and was wicked to the unfortunate Go-
liah, who trudged despondently in the rear, seidom venturing to
speak unless directly addressed. in the course of the day, how-
ever, he mustered courage to refer to his losses, and the peculiar
aud excellent composition of the whisky he had used in trade
with the ungrateful Indians, These remarks were made cacher
in soliloquy than otherwise, aud in # tone so low and hu'nble,
that 10 notice Was taken of them by his irate mistress.

“It is sufficiently evident,” said Kenneth, asitdrew toward
night, “that this trail has beeu trodden by wore purties than
one; it is tov plain and undisguised.”

“It was but a nierte thread when westruck it; but he would In-
deed ye blind who cannot see that it has grown lurger since
noon, ‘

The guide paused,

“Here are the footprints of a horse,” headded; ‘you can see
‘em without much trouble.”

“Goliah Stout himselr might follow a trail like this,” answered
Kenneth, atter examining the impressions to which Saul had
called attention. “Let us go ou; bere it is; ittollows the original
trail with extraordinary fidelity.”

‘Shouldn’t wonder a mite,’ said Goliah, brightening up, “if
*twas my hoss! The critter hated awluily to be alone, and would
follar hike a dog. Should know him weil Nough on count o’ the
picter-gallery on his sides. He was & beast with a good many
good points, and could allers stand on his own bottom so long as
he had plenty to eat and to drink; butsturve him three or four
days; aud it depressed his spirits wonderfully. All to think that
he carried that beverage! Red river water, fifty per cent. alco-
hol, five parts aqua fortis, and a sprinklin’ o’ prussic acid, Just
give aman plenty o’ that, and be’ll be able to stan’——”

“Yes, we all know about tiat, you understand,” interrupted
Suul, pettishly.. Then to Iverson: “These tracks are very tresh;
it hasu’t been an hour since they’s made, It won’t be long ature
we have some kind of un adventur’. I wish to gracious that
this Woman was at home, where she ought to be. What sent her
trotting arter us, the Lord only knows! Nick Whiffles put it into
her head, Plt be bound! Hoe allers had a turn for worryin’ the
jong-legged feller that’s straddlti’ ahind us, with Lis heud down,
*thout durin’ to speak a word for himself.”

Kenneth remembered the circumstance of having seen Nick
and Priscilla Jane in clogs conference on the night of the for-
mer’s departure, and drew his own inferences from the same.

Presently Saul Vander, who was some distunce in advance,
AT an exclamation of surprise, aud cailed to Kenneth to

1asten.

“Here’s somethin’? new, you understand,” he said. “There’s
been, 1] take it, a fresh addition to the trail, which makes the

  
  

    
 

he tarust the weitpom quickly luty his beit.
“Is 1 Luce, indecd, irieue Nick!? heexclaimed “What. has

}happened ? Why art tuuu groveling Lucie upou the earth, even

ike the serpent that tempted Our fest parents P?
.. a bility, thas ail! We're both down,
Cala

COME DIEU fiero ~arn ke
iy aud t. Bul we shail come up uy?’in, with gvud nussin’.
>auVLot auatur’ to be kept duwn, Ou, Lord, nel” answered
ick, miahing uu abortive attempt to stand upon lis teet He
Li doWL among the uuderbruso with 2 notable crus. Calamity,
hu hud staggered wong beside his master, howied with dismuy
this Cutastropiie,
‘Twas tue Way with al} my family,’ quoth Whiffles, ingen.
) “A bud all QUT Once Liat Couldn't sta’ wp tout tuilin’
wh. Ald wl uncle, Loo, Luat Was a youd eal Hicted With the
n lever, aud was troubled ureadiul witii the horizontals, He
ver got over it Lillthe duy of Lisdedth, whicu was a pity, see’
it Was a serivus injury to him. Don’t be skeered, old buy! Arter
flounderiu’? about awhile om wy back, il tip over onto my
plulicu, #Ud Lun ’tWont be uO jeb at ail tu git om my hands aud
Kuwes wy’lu.”

“Puou art the same original creature, friend Nick,” replied
Abram, ussisting the trapper to arise, aud supporting him with
lis swoutb arm, “Pou artless despunding, however, thaa on the
occasion of thy last ditticuity; wuich I am glad tusee. 1 wail
usoist Luce to yonder grassy huoli, Where 1 wilh learn sometinug
of What has befallen tuee, aod do wuat I ean lor buy comiort ai-
terward,””

“My slory may be told in a dozen words, though if I had sich a
habit vo’ singin’ OUT sentences Like # person 1 could meution
‘would lake me hail aday, But taint a lam thatrebs te dic.
tiouary Very olten, Lve had a condemned difkilty with the
lugius, and that’s the Whole uiffikilty im a Mut suell, ultnough it’s
provable that it the dog hadn't been too sick, I might have given
Lhe cricvers the slip, ‘Pie fact is, 1 wouldn't leave one tuat beyer
jettame., Arter Carryia’ hin tur’s 1 could, IT fougnt, did my best
aud made up ly tid thatat was ail upwithine. Yom Siocumb
—iur you must Kuew buat LT iell ia with the Raven—behaved hiim-
selt very Weil, indeed. He tackled tue iuemy, and ia spite of all
his Crowiu? dud tluppin? did as well aB tue bmartest uiuong us,
Ot asudaiut, I forgo. what hide I knew, and wasn’) conscious
ot anythin? cept & strlug ot ugly and -Uuuimeatin’ dreams, till
?ouul hull an Hour agy. df yuu want lo acta wood Samuaratin
and do sumethhy vesevolent, that Lsuall be gratetul tor ail we
duys u’ my lle, LUI ) ous wlieniivn lo my lour-iovted triend,”

“Frienu Wiiuitles, bum tuuched wilh buy devotion tu the dog.”

Avraui paused, tue went on in: fis tranquil fashion of speak-
ing, although it must be confessed that u singular ligut, at times,
beamed fui 1s lild eyes,

“It would grieve me to the heart to have it said, or even
thougui, tual tue sect called Quakers, of which Fox wus the veu-
erabie tvuunder, Dad ope almowy 18 mewbers deticient in human-
ity to man or beusi; for, friend trapper, [ make good works,
deeds OF charity, acis of Kinutiess, elc., the “test of Vhristianity,
wWithouc Which processions ary like sounding bruss and tinkling
cyMbals, of by effect wuateyer im the saving of the soul or the
strenugluching Of Ule iuner man, loan winci—"

“piop there, iriend Abvrat, or I slutlltaint away afore you get
throug!” | Nick turued his eyes Luward the body oi tue Indian
Whiei Was in fui view. r

      
   
  
     
   
   
     
     
    
   
 

“Nouseuse uside,” be added, “what, or who killed that red-
he beurs the mark of the nyste-.|!

skin? You may vvserve that
rious Slayer—a cut through the top of the head down to the
vridge 0. the Lose,”

“Fou askeot inuch,” returned a ueaie some disquietude |

of Manner. “Wat should J know of deeds of blood like this 1”?

““syery Nan has his vpiniou, aud I have mine. Thar’s no crit-
ter so poor tigt he cau'tautturd to Keep 4u Opinion,”

Nick was cyidenltly getting serious,

“Doctors aud Jaw;ers ask sumethin’ for theirs, but I don’t; 1
can give Wine for netiin’,”

“| have not asked thy opinion,’? interposed Abram, quickly,

“I know you hain’t, but you've got to bear it, 1 aiu’t ove tuat’s
deceived with chaf, like a pigeon, Natur’s taugut me somethin’,
it schools hasn®t{ I see as tur into a thing thats trausparient, as
another, Abrim Hummet, you ain’t what you scem Lo be; yowre
& queer, onaccountable critter, with ways, notions, and idees of
yur own that one don’t come across every day. Don’t speak,
lor, if you git into one ot them long-winded strains, 1 never
should come at what I wanted to say. You didn’t come to this

I b'leive Lucy’re the real idemticul ones, arter all! ldo, LP swear’

 

northern kentry on a fool’s errand; you had business—somethin
to do—somethin’: to Parn—somethin’ to git at, as ’twere. ~Tex-
pect you've pulled the wool over iy eyes right smart, fust and
ast, but there was times when Thad my s’picions. You’ve talked
adeal about peace, violence, bloodshed, and so ou; but them
wicked cuts on the bead was made by that very batelet that now
Hangs in your belt. They was, by mighty!”

During this pertinent harangue, the Quaker steod with his
arms fulded upon his chest, with his side to the speaker; that he
did not hear it with positive indifference, was evident trom his
whole demeanor.

‘Thou briugest against me serious charges,” he began, depre-
catingly; “no less than the violent shedding of bloed, than which
nothing can be more abominable——”

Hammet wus interrupted bya succession of shrieks, like those
extofted from a woman by the most violent cmotions of fear,

“Help! Murder! Help! Ingius! Skulps! Tomahawks! Bag-
nets! Oh, Lud!” }

“The voree.ot Perscilla. Jane, Iswear to gracious!" exchimed
Nick, “Huko! whats the diffikilty ?? he added, raising his
voice to the highest pitch his strength would adniit. :

A movement was heard in the bushes, close at hand, and Saul
Vander appeared, followed by Kenneth.

a aoe but that confounded woman, you understand?
Said Saul,

“Yes, I understand that. Nobody that’s heerd her once ean
forgit her. What in the world did you bring her out here fory
Saul Vander ? Haven’t loped with her, have ye?” returued
Nick, with an arch glance at Iverson.

“Her bein’ here is some o’ your own mischief; Nick Wihiffles;
and sorry mischief it’s been tousthathad tobear it. But what’s
all this? There’s been a tussle. Who’s up and who's down—

who’s killed and who’s weunded ?
» Saul glanced at the body of the Indian, at Abram Hammet, at
Nick and his dog.

“That critter is killed, I allow,” qhoth Nick, pointing at the
body, “and there are severat others hereabout, in the same con-
dition; while I and Calamity are wounded and sick.”

With curiosily stronely iuipressed upon the countenance, Kert
neth advanced and looked attentively at the slain Indian.

“The secret Blayer!]” he exclaimed. ‘This is inexplicable, AI,
ways, too, when Ae is near?” he muttered, in a lower voice. ~

The Quaker was standing’ beside Nick, wlio was sitting “upon @&
knoll. The trapper, by a certain movement, reacied up and

Grew Abram’s hatehet from his belt; he passed the weapon to
Kennetii, saying: t

“See how this bit of steel will fit that wound.”

The young man took the hatchet aid exumined it; there were
faint traces of blood upon it, and minute clots of the sume at the
joining of the helve with the iron. A smail splinter of bene also
adhered to ihe biade.

“This blade is uncommonly wide, and might, in a powerful
hand, inflict such a wound?’ said Iverson; thouglitfully, and wag
comparing the width.of the instrument with the wound, when
something natural «bout the face induced him to make a closer
examination. With his huning-knile hy ent open tne sleeve of
the dead man’s; frock; a white arm: was revealed! The parties
beheld this with astonishment, but nove bianifested so much sur-
prise as Hammet, who withessed this development with some-
thing Hke consternation.

“A white nan!” cried the guide.

"It is, indeed!” said Abram, hurriedly.

: SS Warrier}? excluimed Kenuueth, recoiling from the spec-
acle.

“And a critter never died that better desarved the killin’ !’ as-
serted Nick, stoutiy. “He died easy—too eusy for sich a yil-
lain,” he added, reflectively. “We naturally ’soeiate sufferin?
with crime, ith extr’ordiner wickedness we councet the idee
of extrordiner punishinent. IE wish he could had @ pang or two;
and yet, arter ail, I baven’t no right to judge him. If the Master
o’ Life wasn’t the most marciful beiu’, }sheuld stan’ ruther a
shim chance myself, I allow.’

_ “Phou hast well spoken, Nick Whiffles!’ responded the Quaker,
in @ suppressed tone, “Small right have we to preseribe the
awards and puvishments of the presiding Deity.”

At that juncture, G@ohah Stout aad his spouse found their way
out of the chapparal in’w hich they had been involved, aud joined
the parties, rs. Stout slntieked at the siglit.of the ‘body; and
mwunilested a strong tendevey, to something iu the, line ot con-
yulsions and hysteria, but did not forget, wt the same tinie, fo
wake Goliah as uncomfortable by recriminuations, 48 usual,

“{cau’t say that 1 regret the felier’s death much,” said the
guide, “for he has been a faithful, jostrument of Mark Morrow
io the abduction, and perhaps ruin,. of my child”

Sauls eye rested upun a@ folded puaper,which«protruded fron#
the pouch at the dead man’s side; he Look it out, and opened it.

“It is the handwritin’ of Mark Morrow !? he sai@dl “I ain’ta
very skillful reader for wautof practice; jest rua your eye over
it, Iverson.” .
‘ ae received the paper, and read it eagerly. Itranas

ollows: 167

“Curis Carrier; may the devil take youfor a bungler! As I
Fave before tolu you, you do nothing well, but everything by
haives. By some dused oversight of yours; Le Loup escaped
drowning and got. among his infernal tribe again, where he is
playing the mischief, How he managed. to esex; e, is More than

scan tell, unless you or your companions connived atit. That
he-could free himself frond the stone,.seems-next to impossible z
but that he did, is but too evident, Ihave reason to think that
he-nad a knite concealed in hisclothes; but with: his hands tied,
J cannot see that it would be of any use-to him. oth

“ft want you to hurry atier Jean und the tedows-who have the
young woman in charge, and Change their course;.using every
caution to elude pursuit; tor that youug kackfout whelp and
some of his people are scourmng the couhtry from. one end to the
other. Cross tne Saskatcliewan atthe point f mentioned, and
conceal yourselves in that vicinity as well.as you.can, keeping a@
sharp watch for such as may be Ikely to tollow you. 1 will join
you assoon as practicabie, when, I trust,.everytuing will work
tomy wishes. Rely upon it, Chris, you shail be- handsomely re-
warded. T have employed a certain party of Indians, who have
not yet Jearned of the affuir of Le Loup, to dog. the ‘fovtstens of
young Iverson. and his. triends,. Saul Vander will, of course,
make et¥orts to recover his daughters but I. shat! guard against
his endeavors, and doubt not but. thatiT.shals finally elude his
Vigilance, and accomplish my purposxe.. Be wary, or you. will feck
the teeth of the Wolf when you leastexpectit.” Should you ever
have &@ chance, senda brace of bukets through the headiof that
Quaker, who pluyed the priest. that night.iu the eayeru. By the
Wiy, some of the people of Selkirk tellme that Nick Whifties is
sull alive; but this, unquestionably, 1s-but.an idle rumor wehout.
a Shadow of loundation in truth. ‘Poor: Nick turnished quite 2
repast for the fisbes, thougi) be wasn’t fut enough.to: lasta great
Wiile, being a lean, lank, jong-legged, lathy chap, with searcely
flesh enowg@ on his bunes tu make’a deceut mince pie for o dog.*

“Hold up, there!” admonished Nick, potting forth a remon—
strative paim crowned with five digits. “I don’t want to hear
no more 0’ that, less it’s better... Anybody that’s quainted with
me oughter Kuow that I wasn’t. born to. be eat by fish or ether
sealy vermin of nactur’, The meanskunkl I wish 1 could élap
ny bands on him, by mighty! He thought I'd. sink, Latlow.
*spected the’pistil shot had madea final diffikilty withime. A
man thats walked so many miles with « knapsackat his back >
that’s carried a rifle day arter day; that’s follered the thail duy
out andiday in; thatUsseen thesun. rie and set-on the peraries >
that’s trapped beavers and otrerron the rivers and lakes.of the
four.departments; that’s been paddled up, and downihe streams,
and seem all the passages of the. north; ihat’s crossed,the thres—
hold of raed, fort atween Hndson’s Bay and Rocky. Mountains;
thavs- owutwitted the Nor’westers, time and uwe agin; that’s
reached) the. best huntin?’-grounds fust, when a. honsdred. sturdy
men were tryin’ to carcumvent him, wouldn't be fool: ettough Lo
knock under at common ditfikiity.. Oh, Lord, no!’

Nick. looked at Calamity in: a. triendly way, inhaledia long
breath,,and said, quietly:

“Go on, capven.”?

“Thavs all,” said Kenneth..

“Plenty enough, I snould say. Ah, if you'd onlyshot:Him when
you had your pisul at his cowardly.heart!, What aheap oe? crou-
ble aud *plexity it would saved us. I s'pose it wasn't: to: be 80,
Urough.. fhe play of human life is written out avd must. be- acted,
Ll spect; *%wouldn’t do to leave out a.scene, ?cause that would
Spile the gineral effect. His time’il come thoug hj and. the cur-
taint tinaily fall on a tragedy,”

Nick stopped and stroked Calamity’s head with a.careful hand.
The dog hooked up, anc worshiped his visible. god—forman is the
god.ot the dog,

“Bul we’re wanderin’ from 2 subjeck. that each,andiald of us
is thiidksn’ of that Know anythin’ about, the. mysterious deaths
that have follered us, so to speak, from, one. part othe Keatry to
another. Whoisthe secret slayer ?? Uaterrogated: Nick, looking
searchingly at Abram Hammet,

The-latter glanced at Kenneth, at Saul at the- questioner, and
was about to answer, when the report of a, musketinterrupted
wiate¥er revelation he was abont tuo naake.-

(TO BE CONCLUDED -NEKT:; WEEK.]}

   

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“PETRARCH’S LOVE.

BY MICHAEL SCANLAN,

 

[These verses’ are illustrative of a well-known episode in the
life of Petrarch, the Italian poet]
fn that sweet time which cometh unto all,
When the young heart, like a folded rose
Which opes its treasures to the genial sun,
* Bursts into full-blown love, when young blood flows
In dreamy tides whereon the senses swoon
‘Tp languid indolence, when all the air
is roseate with kisses of delight,
And all creation seems to feel and share
Onr rapture of first love, my angel came
- Across my path and set my heart aflame,

But earth is all too gross for first, wild love, ;
~ And with rude hand, as flowers by tempests strown,
Was I aroused from my delicious trance, j
’ My dreams of bliss unto the wild winds blown;
And then my heart became a sacred tomb, !
“Wherein my ‘hopeless love was buried deep;
When Faith, enshrouded from the public eye,

Gould tend her vestal fires alone, and weep
That heaven and earth can never, never meet
But for short kisses and with flying feet.

When years had tempered the hot edge of grief,
And love had quieted down to memory
Filled. with the sweet grief of vanished joy,
» When She seemed but my soul’s affinity,
A tliing too high and rare for daily love,
; Not.to be grossened to the common wayé,
I turned unto the dim cathedral aisles,
* Where slanting sunbeams fell in dying rays,
Tinct with rare coloring and theme divine, . :
And wounded hearts were healed at' Mary’s shrine,

Here folded in the heavenly arms of prayer,
To all eternal joys and sorrows deaf,
My spirit shook off loves idolatry
“And stood redeemed above its one great grief:
“How unsubstantial are the,sweets ofearth,
; Oh, Virgin Mother teach my soul to rise
And build its hopes beyond earth’s iron reach,
) Love’s fall fruition lives not neath the skies,
I pluck ftom out my heart her fair false face,
Come thou, oh, changeless Love, and take her place!”

From out the-holy hush that fills the place
How sottly steals the organ’s liquid rol—
Oh, heart! oh, heart! list to that golden voice!
)?’Tis hers! Now, saints, give back my truant soul;
yours the prayers of those who have loved,
My bosom still is my love’s regal shrine!
Oli} look not on me with rebuking eyes, 3
“My love for her hath made her too divine!
Qh. sweeter live but for a dream of her,
Than be your fondest, truest worshiper.
My heart, long muzzled by sublime deceit,
, Has burst its prison, and now cries alond
For love more throbbing than cold, pulseless saint,

: ‘ Old buried glories burst their graves and crowd

About my wildered soul! My love, my life,

* I drink the transports of thy heavenly voice,
My adoration fails at (hy fair feet; os
; Oh, come and bid my struggling soul rejoice t
Bair T’ll bend and bow at any shrine, °

ying it is holy when.’tis thine!

, *

“TOM COLLINS,”

i BY BURKE BRENTFORD.

“Have you seen ‘Tom Collins?” ,

As the ominous query was put in a deep stage-whisper,
accompanied by an insinuating land upon my shoulder,
I could not but look up with a sort of treurulous surprise.

You see I had just returned to the office of my,Dramatic
Agency, afier an absence of a number of weeks, which
had somewhat ‘dulled’? me as to recent metropolitan sen-
gations, und this question was propounded to me by my
favorite tragedian soon after I had taken my seat at my
desk, to await the arrival of one of my second-class low
comedy fellows, for whom I had effected an engagement
With @ traveling troupe. i

“Seem Tom, eh? Why, no. Who is he?—what’s his
line? ¥ou surely don’t mean the Collins—the great‘Irish
comedian ?? ;

“No, L don’t mean him, an’I donit know.exaetly what’s

his line,’? murmared my tragedian, shaking his‘head with
his most hideously mournful smile,:in which there was a
species of commiseration; ‘‘but Tom Collius is looking for

ou.”?’ ‘ :

“ ‘Looking for you!) I had always supposed that when
a man was looking for another it was in Ure same sense
that Stokes was looking for Fisk just before shooting him,
down, or mucti like a desperate hunter looks for a los-
tile redskin or some pestiferous animal, revolver in hand,
and bowie-knife between teeth—just the same as ‘going
for you,’? you know. Atany rate, my iuformant’s: man-
ner fully justified this construction of the'plrase; ‘and I
am afraid I blanched &@ trifle as I glameed at liim, with a
feeble smile. 3

“Well, here is my office, Mr. Mouther,. said I.
won't have much trouble in finding. me, I fancy.’’

Another smile, more darkly and: painfully suggestive
than before. :

“There may be reasons,’”? said Mr, Mouther, slowly,
“why Tom Gollins should prefer to see you elsewhere than
in your office. I must say that his manner in speaking
of you did not indicate that his intended business was of
an official nature.”? ; :

“Manner in speaking of me! . What the devil do you
mean I cried, glad enough to lose my temper, in order
to disguise the trepidation with which he. had inspired
me; for 1 confess to being a timid man.: ‘Who is Tom
Collins? What has be been sayiag about me,'aud what in
thunder ‘does he want?” :

“That is right,’’ said Mouther, nodding his head approv-
ingly. ‘That has the true ring. Whatever does happen,
my dear sir, face it out like a man.’

I waS now perspiring freely.

‘sWill you be kiud enough to explain, sir???

“All | know is this,’*said’ Mouther.” ““Tom COollins has
been over there at the Rainbow Shades’’ (oneof my favor-
ite resorts for refreshinent) {‘all the morning, abusing you
like a pickpocket to 6very one he sees, and wanting to
gee you the worst in the wond.’’=

“Indeed!’) said I, with a tremulous attempt’ at indiffer-
enee. ‘Some, would-be actor, k suppose, whom I have
negiected to. supply with a leading part in a first-class,
company. Good morning, Mouther. 1 have considerable
writing before me.’? And, turning my back upon the
higii-tragedy man, I resumed. my o¢cupatian....

“J say,’’ said Mouther, “‘you havéu’t heard of any open-
ing fur me, I suppose ?”? } : j

“None whatever,’ I replied, snappishly.

“The fates are agin me,’? mused Mouther,-in his most
dgjected tone. “‘l’m gittin' seedier every day. My hose
and doublet.are sadiy,out of repair, the toes of my only
sandal:shoon open and shut tothe weather like flytraps,
my last tunic but one is in the laundry, and | ain’t had a
suufter pony 5 ‘

i went on with my writing and paid no heed.

*“] believe [remarked as how I hadn’t had an eye-opener
this blessed morning,’’ repeated Mouther, with reproach-
ful siguificance. : ; ;
t “Pray give it a reat, may good fellow. You see I am

usy.

Mouther lounged lingeringly up and down the room for
afew moments; and then said;? i?

“Ain’t you goin’ to.say somethin’ ?? _

“In the-way of a ‘snilter,’ or ‘eye-opener ?
not.’

“Well, never mind. Ireckon I can hang up Billy over
here at-the Rainbow once more,’’ said Mouther, discon-
tentedly going to the door. “If I see Tom Oolling over
there, shal i,telk him he’d better waitefor yom??.. « :

Exasperated, I picked up the ruler to fling ‘at-his head;
but he dodged through the door and disappeared. 1 at
once made up my mind that Mouther should have no
situation that might come into my gift, even were it a
“Third Murderer” in Macbeth, or an humble {‘My-lord-the-
earriage- awaits’ gman in the comedy... Then .my chin
sank upon my palm, and: I fell to -cogitating as to the
identity of the mysterious Tom Colfius,- who was repre-
sented to be in such earnest quest of me. Beside the
distinguished Irish comedian, I could only remember to
have known two persons of the name, One was a spruce

“Tom

Decidedly-

body servant, who had forever disappeared, after surrep- }°

tifiously borrowing my pocket-book and the better part
of my wardrobe, without asking the loan of either; and

. the, other. was-a siliftiess sort of Bohemian playwright

who, after leaving me namerous ‘4d. 0. U.’s’’ to remember
him byy had drifted off somewhere into Texas, where, as
Lafterward vaguely heard, he was ullimately hanged for
horse-steaiing. But the present Collius—Tom COollins—
whe.could he be, and what possible cause of enmity could
he have.egainst myself?

I gaye.up.the conumdrum, after a few moments? thought,
and was soon happily forgetting its Subject in the muiti-
farious business before me, wuen | heard Wiggles singing
@ song outside, and making his way up the narrow stairs.

Wiggles always sets my teeth on edge. He is the low

* conedtan for whofn L have securéd a situation with the

traveling: troupe—a blustering, nvisy fellow, with more
cheek than tatfent, and invariably drunk, if he has the
price. His influence upon asensilive organization is very
much Jike being transferred. froma hot bath to a tub of
a, ice, Chin-deep. Dd sooner hear a-bear roar any
ay inthe week. Here he is, bawling some infernal parody
of the day at the top of his voice: ae
“J want to be a granger,
And with the grangers stand,
A horny-fisted farmer,
With a haystack in my hand. aa
T’ve bought myself a Durham ram
And a black alpaca cow, ~ »
A double lock-stiteh hawthorn hedge,
And a patent-leather plow,”

Great Heavenst his voice stakes the house.

“Teddy,” I cry, turning to my office-boy, ‘for Heaven's
sake lock tie door! and he may think that I haven’t got
home yet.”

Teddy. is as lively as a bug on a stove, but the outsider
is too quick for him, aud, the next instant Wiggles’ pre-
posterous” paunch fills the doorway, and his rubicund

AA she

 

 

visage beams upon me. like a pimply sunrise. You can
smell:his breath a miie off. .It puts you in mind of, the
Barren Isiand fat-rendering establishments in & summer's

ale.
I smile a feeble welcome.

The first thing he does is to greet me with a tremendous
slap on the back, and to exclaim, with tempestuous glee:
“Hallo, old man! Have you seen Tom Collins?” !

I gasp; the perspiration beads out afresh; 1 feel that T
am growing livid about the gills. I motion him to a seat.

‘No,’ I say, faintly... ‘*What of him ?’

*‘He’s looking for you,”

“AI ‘ :

“Yes, my hearty: "Why; what have you been doing to
him to make him so thunderin’ mad?”

“Doing to whom—to Tom? to Collins? And is—is heso
very—rabid?”

“You can bet your bottom dollar on that, old man. Ha,
‘ha, hat Why, all last evening he was over there at the
Bank Exchabge’—another favorite resort of mine —“‘abus-
ing you, like athief toevery one he saw, He talked

awful.’?

“Tut-tut; Mr. Wiggles! What did he say ??

“So much that 1 forget what. Called you every name
in the calendar of epitiets., ‘Villain, rascal, scoundrel,
thief, felon, convict, wasn’t & patchiu’ to what he applied
to vou. By crimminy, it made my hair curl! He’ll, be
there to-day if you want to see him.”

“JJ don’t Know. that I care io see him at present,” I
murmur, with a hollow, forced laugh, aud twirling my
mustache with alrembling hand. “By the way, I don’t
know any Tom Collins, that I am aware of,”

“Eh? But he knows you, depend upon it,”

“Oan you give me an idea of what he is like?”

_ Bout six foot three, bull-necked, terrier-jawed, and
armed to the teetlt.”” ste

“Indeed! Well, now, Mr. Wiggles, you must really ex-
euse me; youseelhave work beiore me, and cannot be
disturbed.

“Certainly not!

‘Cheat your partner if you can,
i He’ll do:the same by you;
You'll never get rich, you child of a witch,
Till you paddle your own canoe.’
But I'see 'you’re not musically inclined this morning, 80
[ll stir my beetie-mashers. By the way, Mr. B—, you
haven’t heard of anything in my line, have you?’

“Nothing definite," I prevaricate, in reply; for he has
annoyed meé so that 1 determine to punish him a bit.

I wait for him to take his departure; but a sudden ab-
straction seems to have come over lim, and he sits with
an absorbed, far-away 100K in his muddy eyes, which,
under other circumstances, ‘might be quite interesting.
And presently lie ‘says, in a voice and manner suangely
contrasting his advent upon the scene:

“When a man’s own barber goes back on him, and re-
fuses him @ paliry shave, without seeing the color of his
stamps, it'sa sigu he’s gelling pretty low, ain’t it, Mr,
iB——pv :

I have my nose buried in a law paper, and pretend’ not
to hear. :

“[ thought it bad enough,’ he goes on, just as though I
had. accorded him the most sympathizing attention,
“when, on asking for.a second plate of hash at the board-
ing crib this morning, that old hag of a landlady gunued
me through her green spectacies as if I had-stolen the
spoons, or murdered her-lap-dog; but to have a feller’s
barber go back on him—that, was the camel. that broke
the feather’s back. Beside,’ resumed Mr. Wiggles, with
additional pathos, ‘I ain’t had but three nips this-morn-
ing, and five is my customary allowance before this time
a day at the very lowest.) sal
. “My nose sank still deeper into the tegal document I
was pretending to read,
his yoiee, “I say, I ain’t had more nor three balls this
morning."! ited ah Eta

“Did anyone say you had?’ i remarked, looking up a
lite sharply. wu Ft i

“Ain’t you goin’ to say turkey? or, ain’t you got’ two
shilliu’ about'your clothes??? Te da hs

ogo “SMeither.t oi. 4

. te 5 2%
He looked at me with a strange bitterness for a moment,
and then suddenly-lhuffed out: of the room} ‘and, as he

roaribg at the top of his voice; stu
‘“O ain’t you seen Tom Collins f vee
T tell you he’s looking for you, out
Like an old blood-tub, with a blackthorn clab,
And a flask-of ‘mountain-dew’.”’ :

The voice died away,.anud I heard, the. lower door
slammed to with malicious violence. ; \

1 buried ‘my face in my hands. What did it-all mean?
Naturally a nervous and sensitive, not to Say extremely
timid man, I felt the shadow of a terrible apprehension
gathering over me, and growing. moment:y more hideous
and alarming. »‘'o continue my work in my present con-
dition’ was simply impogsible. I glanced at. my watch.
Close upon twelve. ; :

“Teddy,” said I, “I have beéit absent from my family
so long that I shall godome to junch, instead of taking it
across the way as usual. If any one calls, say I shall be
back at two o'clock.” 7

“Tvs goin’ to rain,’ said Teddy.

“No matter; have an umbrella.’# : ;

The. air was darkened with the swiftly-approaching
storm when I emerged from the building; the street was
almost deserted, wilh the few remaining wayfarers
hastening to the nearest sueller. Directly opposite was
the Rainbow Shades, a public house of the English chop-
house variety, Miat is, constructed out of a whilom high-
‘stoop dweiling-lhouse, with a-ar opeuing toward the
street-door, as well aS upon the coffee-room, which was
separated from the vestibule by doors of ground glass.

A sudden idea possessed me. Inthe present loneliness
of affairs, would.it- uot do forme to steal over and try. to
catch a covert gimpse of my unknown fve over the Dar?
To plan was Co act, ; :

In a few seconds, with much fear and trembling, I stood
in the vestibule. Nodding. to the bartender, with whom
Ll was famiiiar, 1 glauced over the counter to the saloon’s
only occupant, who seemed to be enjoying an uneasy
suooze in“un easy Chair by the side of a heup of illustrated
periodicals.

I could not repress a shudder.

The man was a’ Colossus, Rough garmented, horny-
handed, with the neck and shoulders of a buffalo-bull,
and the limbs of a Milo, one’ of liis lieavy-shod feet aione °
would have weighed a quarter of a, hundred weight; and
what I’ could see of his. lowering. and bearded visage
seemed to indicate nothing but evil passion and brutal
ferocity. ,

“Have you seen Tom Collins ?"’

It was only the pleasant-yoiced bartender
but I started as if Il was shot. ‘

“Billy,” said I, recovering myself with difficulty, and
speaking in -a Slartied whisper; **Billy, is—is that him?”
Pointing a trembling finger ‘at the unconscious Titan.
‘Billy at first looked surprised; then laughed and nod-
aed his head, e {

I staggered away witha groan, and gained the friendly
shelter ofa; street-car just as ‘the ‘storm burst and the
rain came down in: bucketiuls.. Who was this burly raf-
fian, and by what imaginary wrong upon my. part had he
constituted himself as my Nemesis—as au Avenger. thirst-
ing for: my blood and .hungering for my boues? The
mystery Ouly made the consciousness of my peril more
appalling, However,- happy thought! I had the bosom
of my beloved family in which to flud relief and rest. 1
had arrived home early Ulat morning, aud had cConse-
quently had but a brief interview with my wife before go-
ing to my office., Now, I would give her a pleasant sur-
prise by making my appearance-at Juncheou, and would
be enabled to forget, for at least.a while, the terrors of
the day tn her sympathy and love,

**Yes,’’ I said, as the door of my domicile was opened,
and I shook out my dripping umbrella at the top of the
stoop. “I thought 1 would give you a bit of surprise, aud
take lunch home to-day.’? ©

She was delighted. It was just ready, and, Juckily,
they had some excellent corned beef and cabbage, beside
fruit and et ceteras. So I followed her into the dining-
room, wilh my youngest (Tobias, called ‘*Tubby’’ for
short, a charming praitier of turee years) tugging at my
coat-tail. {

“This ts comfort!’ I cried, spreading out my hands.

A fire was burning in the grate, on account of the
dampness of the day, the table was well supplied, and I
was soon discussiug-the savory meat, when my wife
suddenly asked wilh an arch smile:

“And Low is Tom Collins?” 4

‘The Kiife and fork dropped from my hands; the color
fled my cheeks; I looked at her with starting eye-bails aud
gaping mouth.

“What's the matter? Do you see a ghost?” she ex-
claimed, apparently thuuder-struck at the effect of her
Words.

“Hag he ‘been ‘here?’ Speak!” I*gaspedin husky
accents, ‘Is the man ubiquitous? Hus te inquired for
me at my home ?”?

“Whom do you mean, you old goose ?””

“Tom Collins; speak! has he been here ??

She burstinto immoderate laugiiter.

“Why, of course he has.” ‘

How could she laugh? Wasthe womanmad? I rushed
from the room, seized my liat and umbrella, and went out
of the house, in spite of their efforts to detain me. ‘The,
evidently deemed me deniented. I was, nearly so.
wandered about in the pouring rain in an aimless, me-
chauical way fora long time. I began to appreciate the
sensations of a hunted animal. At last I found myself
treading the street upon which my office Was Situated. It
was still lowering and raining, aud bat few passengers
were visible. ~ . :
I glanced up. Iwas passing the Bank Exchange, the
place where Wiggles had said that Tom Gollius was ‘look-
‘ing forme.” A-suddew thought struck me. Was there
more than one Tom Collins? At any rate the weather was
favorable for me to Slip into tlie bar of the Exchange, and
find out, unperceived by any one. she oe
1 was just-about to push throug! the morocco-covered
doors, when an old friend of mine (something of a wag in
his way, though I remembered ib not in.my perturbed
staie of mind), who happened to ‘be; just coming out,
seized my hand, and shook it warmly.

“Hallo, ola fellow!’ he cried; “have you seen Tom Col-
jins? He’s looking for you.”’ :

FT staggered against'a railing for support.

*Fred,’? said 1, faintly, “‘l’ve been asked that question
till im well bigh distracted—reagon tottérs dn her throne.
Tell me truly, IL implore you—is he within?”

“Who?

“This. Tom Collins—this misguided man who appears
from some ‘fallacious reasoning to be on my track,”

oe» My friend laughed in his peculiar way, and then assumed
a@ Sudden sulemuity of manner.

“Domwt go in, B——; don’t go in, my boy,” said he,
earnestly. ;

‘Is he in there? I persisted.
“Of course he is—that is, the real Tom Collins is, He

who spoke,

 

“I say,” répeated Wiggles, with a trace'of irritation in’

Went ‘zigzaging down stairs, | heard him improvising and {°

4

 

 

 

 

 

Apleasant, peaceful valléy |? 9) |,
Yn golden grandeur lay,
Bathed in a flood of sunshine
At opening of day— ;
The song-birds with their merry notes
Made vocal all the air,
And no$ 4 somber tint appear’d
:¥o mar the picture fair.

, The river in.its onward flow

Went rippling pleasam :

While all along its i
Thé hum of industry.;

The clattering of mill- h Bs ig f raigs
By the rapid current feds "6, y ot

And the voices of the toilers*"~ *)
As they labor’d-for their bréad.

‘The landscape dotted all
With cottages so whit 5 :
‘Which scem’d to smile beneath the tonch .
L Of morning's happy lightedei oy.
.» S¥hile here and there par” oma ad .
' “Adorned by groves arid bow ab
Imparted to the atmosphere _ ;
The odor of rare flowers,

ri -

The whistling of the farmer ne
As he ploughed the mellow soil,
The blythe song of the dairy maid
‘While skipping to her toil,
The busy, bustling matron,
On household duties bent,
All breathed a happy story
Of safety and content,

Such was the scene at Wil sapeoncet
' When broke the: morning fair—
Alas, that joy should suddenly
Be turned to wi:d despair? -..

   

 
 

 

Alas, that in a moment t
me <6 jubilant and gay.
Should be convulsed by agony * 8

And cease to beat for aye!

Behold the change! The viljagers
Dreamed tot of a ;

TIM suddenly two foam-Heqh'd :
Came swiftly rushing by,

@uided by one with frenzied eye
And bloodless lip and cheek,

Wino uttered, as he flew along,
A Wild, ear-piercing shriek.

4

 

at the head of the band of Indians
at the —— Theater, in the. ‘Red-
Carnival of BR paar

2 : ‘Bauk.’ B—, don’t go in.
wee ete ae ‘ glimpse of him,’ I exclaimed,
desperately; and tearing m yself from his grasp, 1 panies
through the doors, drawing 3 ""Y eer hat opr meg ton
as much as possible, withom * Obstructing my sight,
did so. é

There were several painted Imm waned oF ne paon wonen
Was crowded with tipplers, bus "te COlICE Oe cite
was @ youug man leaning indolemt, 'Y) ae at deen
bar-counter, and conversing with .*& a oe anes hand-
who had gathered about him. He Ww “tall, areaiatie as an
some, romantic-looking young man, . “ nd a squaré
arrow, with small, piercing biaek eye 5 4 nation wrilten
mustachioed face, with energy aud detet. “4 uely attired
indelibly in every line of it. He was picta "(4
in hunting costume, and the broad belt \

is the western tanter \
now appearing nightly
Eyed Warrior; or, The

‘nd Knives,

Collins? : 4
Samuel grinned fremear to ear,.as he nodded, at
rubbed the napkin he carried over his baid head, which
shone and glistened like a polished pumpkin.
The next moment I was in the street, and on my way
to my Office, utterly regarcless of wind aud weather. .
“Teddy,” said 1, ‘1 shall. de no business to-day., Put
away the books, and lock up. Ah! Stalker, is that you?’
My last remark was made to a gentieman who occupied
my easy clair, with his feet cocked’ up’on my desk, who
had evidently been awaiting my coming. It-.was Mr.’
Stalker, a- lanky, washed-out specimen of itidolent hu-
manity, whose stage business was that of Walking-gentle-
Mian, and im whose interest L had been vaiuly looking for
a ewion for about five years. He arose, aud extended
his hand.
“I?m dused glad to see you back, Mr, B——,*’ he said.
“By the way, have you seeun——’”’ :
“Stop!"? L yelled, thoroughiy beside myself at last..‘SYou’
know my peaceable disposition as well as J do myself, Mr.
Stalker, but, by the eternal! ifyou ask me if I huye seen
‘Yom Collins, your biood be on your own head!’
Stalker turned wiite,, My sudden frenzy astonished
him, aud it has been amatter of unceasing surprise to
myself ever since. Stammering forth some words of
apology, I seized ny safe-key, and qnitted the room.
As | inoved abstractedly toward the avenue to take a
car, [ was suddenly brought to’ a Knowledge of the out-
side world by a gruff growl, and, looking up, found my-
self coufronted by a gigantic grizzly bear, reared on ils
hind legs and pawning at me iu ihe most demousirative
manner, f
My nervous system by that time was much like that of
the liard-drinker wheu verging upon an attack of delirium
tremens. :
“Tom Collins!’ I fairly yelled, starting back, amid the
laughter of the assembled crowd; for it was pothing more
than an innocent performing bear, with his Italian task-
master beside hin, Whip in hand, upon whom I had stuin-
bled unawares inay fit of abstraction.
Islunk away, feeling decidedly cheap, which feeling
was by no means diminished by all the gaming in the
crowd shouting after me, *“‘How’s Tom Collins?” **How
ray!’ etc., etc. :
l reached home, aud ate my dinner in morose silerice;
my Wife not venturing te question me after the scene at
lunch, and my children also leaving me Lo myself.
Regard for the feelings of my readers, ‘if nothing else,
would ‘prevent me from atieinpting a description of my
dreams that night—of the hideuus nighturares that chased
reach Other through njy unhappy slumber, with any num-
ber of phantasmagorical:Tom Collinses, grizzly bears, aud
laughing hyenas. Suffice it to say that lawoke witha
new determination. # :
i would not eudure what I had gone through: on the’
precediug day. 1 wobld see these meu. and satisfy them
that they were mistukeu—tliat 1 was unworthy as an ob-
ject of their vengeance.
I felt: relieved in ny tind after coming to this resolu-
tion. I ate my breakfast in silence, and went down town.
Setting my teeth hard, [went into the Rainbow Shades,
The gidnt was there, regaling himself with lam and eggs,
wd au foaming tunkagd of ale. L ruslied up to him, liur-
riedly. : ; :
“Mr. Collins,” I exelaimed, if I have injured you-in
any way, pray let me know it, that I may rectify the fault,
I never willingly wronged ahuman being in the course

of my life, aud——”

He looked at me agif he thought me crazy, and smiled.
“Never seed you afore in my life,’ said be, with a grin.
“Whavs the row ? = thinsamiacatdiale :

 

 

\
at
;

‘hat bound his

i

ose THE NEW YORK WEEKLY. #3

is to the manor bérn, and. within the walls ofthis man-

 

GRAVES’ RIDE.
. By FRANCIS S. SMITH. . KIHTHMOM ‘¢

"Tis Oollins Graves! All know him well,
..- And_view him as he files,
*» With looks of consternation,
_Apprehension and surprise.
‘What is his dread announcement f
What does he wildly say ?
“Fly for your lives, dear neighbors
_ The dam is swept away!”

He stops not for an instant,
But casts a wild look back,
And sees the seething ‘waters
Like a demon on his track.
Then faster and still faster
He rushes madly by, |
Stil'shouting out his warning: (|
“The dam is gonel.. Fly! Fiyt’

; pees «
Now the piled-up destroyer,
With wild, terrific force,
Comes rushing through the valley,
Sweeping all within its course.
Mills, bridges, trees and houses
Before its fury fly,
But Graves still heads the water

i i : 2. A ba t with snip and star, a very limber bay in- ~
aia And shouts his warning cry. deed, hare by Ir n Duke, second dam by old Guy Miller; *
epit? Rocks.that had stood for ages sold recently for

; Opposed the flood in vain,
And solid masonry went down
“Like rye before the rain.”
On rushed the mad wave, covering
The dying and the dead,
‘But still the warning cry rang out,
For still Graves kept ahead.

-And'still the wild flood traveled
With accelerated pace,

And still arose the shrieks of those
Who fell! in its embrace,

And still above the din was heard
Stout Graves’ warning shout,

‘Till Mesh and bivod coud vear 10 More,
And his good steeds gave out,

“Ob, noble man! Ob, noble steeds!
- A glorious deed ye wrought 4
A struggle for humanity
Without a selfish tliought. -
‘Two hundred lives were Swallow’d up
Before tlie race was o’er,
And but for honest Graves’ ride
What might have been the seore ¢

“Jgn't your name Tom Collins?’ I gasped.

“Not if. | know it,” was the reply, ‘Plain Jeremiah
Stubbs, at your sarvice, sir.”

Here the bar-tender going off into explosions of laugh-
ter caused me to turn, and to begin to suspect something.

“Why, Billy, didu’t you tell me——’’T began.

“Yes, yes, Mr. B——}; but i’s aH a joke—a Sell, you
know,” said Billy, with a fresh explosion. ‘You see,
you'vé been out of Lown 80 long that you ain’t exactly up
to snuff,”’ : :

“Aud this Tom Collins——-”

“Doesn't exist at all, I’m afraid.”

“Sold again!’? Iexciaimed; and, crushing my hat over
my brows, Imademy way. across the street, with no very
Charitable feelings toward Messrs. -Mouther, Wiggles,
Staiker & Compauy. : :

When I reached my desk, Teddy, with an ill-conceated
griu illustrating his piciuresque frontispiece, handed mea
dirty envelope bearing my address, which he had found
shoved under the door upon opening it that morning.

sinewy waist was fairly loaded with pistoisa ; ; ‘the following specimen of intellectual
- The etdest waiter in the placé sauntered wp poy are . 7h dacoesae one BP ;
age and my long patronage of the house m, «There was a little man as druy
privileged character above his station. you ’ap- A dramatic agency, .

“Goodaday, Mr. B——,” said he, suavely, “Do Of all the men ues was frightened ov,

? nT LD ‘om. ins most feared he.

er ee — “that Seeman eater ape enna and sadder

“Tell me, Samuel,” I gasped, under my breath, “a ’ > ene oe he ne See Sa re
him—that feliow with the kuives and pistols? Is that’1/ °™ eee

Collius he would see.

«“ He ran right home and went to bed,
Betore his wife could scold,
And among the quilts his care-worn bead
With terror rife did fold.
All night in horror-haunied sh
He groaned, and tossed, and rolled; J
And he came down town from nightmares deep,
To find that he was sold.”

 

| “St
The fore,
ofits com
Writing, we
upgratefal A
1 will pas# «
with the rerea
capacity of Bows
of his sitWation f&
With the Statement
spanked Tubby, my
when, upon coining be
ed me in the haliway Ww.
“Papa, how’s Tom Coh

er eared

THE TR OTTER
IN ORANGE co, VATE. ¥:

A gentleman friend, well-known |
man and a great adinirer of horses,
ouglily competent to decide on what ©
animal, has been rusticating among thes
Orange county, and sends us his opinion @
trotters:”?

Yoing bore no signature, but the fine, poetic

“onther. :

ith:
‘ins 7!

 

 

; 1 at Turn-| honey;aud. good, gevtiemauly fellowship with, all our
After many weary miles of travel, we stoppa . HH. Tay- | heart. : c
er’s and there met the genial gentlemam Col. As Valley, | The reader will’ note that Taylor is 80. deeplyin-bred « _
lor,:the noled Trotting Horse Breeder of Centrat and: distinctly wedded to Orange County that*le las
oue mile and a haif back of Turtet’s Depot. jown | Chosen a second stud farm. in old Orange, even if it is in
* After a cordial and‘polite welcome ‘we proceede@e > «lig- | grand old Virgitia State. 4

thestation steps to wagon, in Charge ofthe colonel’s @b \ on

ing groom, Charles Jordan. We had not proceeded far , ;
the way ere we found ourselves seated behind'a spankin,
team of trotters, well handled by the colonel’s: groort.
who had them in hand. : ey
The ride from the station to the Taylor stud farm is over
an excellent.road, and through a most inviting country,
aud we noticed. particularly the sightly and well ordered:

place of Mr, Evers, the owner of a conling horse of Harti: |:

bletonian blogd; named ‘Irwin, after the gentleman who
owns the stad. :
_ This horse is admitted by, all to be very fast, and judg-
ing from his stride, we should say that ail that: is claimed’
for him is true, mal ;

After a stretch of-three quarters of a mile due east,- we
Strike the'charming valley wherein lays the Taylor farm,
on the old post road to Albany. The country here about
Would oe hard to surpass. Being intermixed with glade,
hill aud mountain views on all sides, eyer changing and+4
enchanting the eye with new beauties of landscape.

On the road*we pass"the farm of the noted Bear and
Fox huntersso lavishly pictured in ‘the Sun two years ago.-
Col Taylor’s regal aud snug retreat lays on the left of the
road, commanding at a glance the fullstretch of the valley.

We drive up the lane-way and are charmingly received
by the noble hostess.on the. broad platform, at-the-resi-
dent gate-way of the good old Southern styled Home-

of the Taylorsfor, be it Known; Col:

‘| Out White, standin

“| seconds to spare.

esti

im ual
~ | breeder$ have of this stallion, we will state tifat last ydaz
i} He, in accordance, made the trial.

"each

| wishing

 

sion he had his birth, eh  )
We enter the-yard and proceed at once to the sanctum
of the colonel to regale our weary limbs—after ® clean
wash—in the joy of the fragrant weed always at hand, to
the help and use of those who yon on
pore chat of an howx We are Called tothe dining room
rtake of luneh. is through, we are invitee to view
stock, viz: “Floyida’ a dark rich bay stallionwith-
1 15-3. This certainly is
f pedigree.

>

‘to p
the

    
   
   
     
 

    

_ig ajson of the world renowned * mbletonian’”
out ef a mare by I 1€ 2 son of
Harpbletonian and gite . » Gloster, and
Hutitress, the mare ow ipséd the time of

  

 

Dut
thirty years, viz: 3 miles

hman, which h upward of
3 miles

withou
“Ta 7.32. ‘tie ted
in 7.21 1-2 without skip or break, tus winting with 11 1-2

Now the writer wit the effort of
the wonderful mare *‘Flofa Temple” long the queen of the

in 8-4 seconds of time, her record being

we may see the reason Wily Mr, Taylor’

orse 4s\1
high fepute among the breeders of sou

. discrimin

‘judgment. All thatany weasonable man can, ask is.com-
bined in this strong and fast gailed horse, combining in his .»

loins the stringent double cross of the ‘‘Hero.of Chester”,

other remarkable trotters, well known to the trotting turl-
inan of the age.

As to form, he is Ai, being an ideal. |
straight head, light and rather short n
ful should well laid back, and is exceedi
the frisket, unusually large arms; with clean,
strong upright pastern, his back short, his]
well ribped back, legs well jet down to the hock
are strong and flat, standing on feet of steel }
In order to: give the public an idea of the

  
 
      
    
 
    
 
  
  

a breeder from. western New York was-at Mr. Tay)
when hg authorized him to purchase ail tie Florida colt
in his s@ction, as the horse stood in his four-year, |
form at Ithica. i t

 

man ie section of which he priced a. colt. wa
$1000; :

& half mile in 1:29 at the fair, timed by the judges (bei,
only 15 ymonths . old;) and’ owned by three persons, U
$2000 for their share of the colt, and relue
tant to sell at that! He continied his fruitiess hunt and
found

breeders now send their brood mare to ‘‘Florida.” °°:
publicly at?
and purchased several in foal in Florida at the
and said: “Gentleman, if you wish a sonthdown
and purchased a marino buck, would you get
down lamb for the cross? Certainly not. Well,
same in breeding horses; if you certainly have a Hamble-
tonian stallion you will surely get a Hamhbletonian colt,
Florida is beyond doubt a true Hantbietonian, and the

that he had two mares now—then—at’ Taylor’s,

   

 

to produce a positive blooded ‘*Hambietonian.” Now,

tonian, he by Treadwell; Abdallah, he by Gol
Mambrino,; he by’thie imported Messenger,
Volunteer, he by Rysdyk Hambletonjan, etc. a Uemen
of the turf, could you ask or desire more? Ifs0, he re

‘it to be found?’ Now we will proceed to scan adew

by this stallion, Florida.

1. A two-year Old horse colt, very large of its age, an
in color; action, and point the very counterpart of-hi
sire. This colt is as promising an animal as ever came
under our observation, and would do credit to any stud

 

without labor or fault. i
of this com it would take.a larger sum to induce us {0 part
with him. . This colt is named ‘Central Valley,” Lis dam
was “Lady Conklin,’ she by Wm. M. Rysdyk's Hamble-
tonian, thus runbing double crosses of Abdallah and
Hambletonian. What more could be desired lor a breed-
ing stock stallion—tew i iD
line of Messenger , Lady Conklin beiug* sister to
‘| noted mareut oshen Maid.

 

imported Trustee, the sire of the noted race mare Fashion,
who beat the renowned Boston, the grand old four-miler;
this colt is bay, with two white heels behind, and is cer-,

ood. ; -

Hambletonian. It is needless for us to call attention to
this bay?s good qualities; the breeding is sufficient to note
his mefits.” pang A : . :
5. Bay colt, off back heel iw te, dam by Sacket’s Ham-
bletonian, second. dam. by Roe’s Abdallah. Chief, third
dam an Arabian.mare.~

6. A bay filly with star and and one white sock, dam by
Duke of Orange, he sy Hatzell’s Hambletonian ahi Rys-
dyk’s: Hambietonian 82 dam. by Abdallali Chief by
oid o eilmen, 18 Not this iasistrong enough
in-bred to suit the most skeptical?

7. Colt with star, strip and two white socks; a bay dam

by Billy Dentim, he by Rysdyk’s Hambletonian by old
| Messeiiger; -

-Abdaiel, be by Mambrina, he by inuporcted ,
this Gertainly is a Closely in-bred coil, aud is worthy the
inspection of the most fastidious eritic,

8. A. fine, well-developed colt, out of Kate Mann, a
mare’by Eureka, herdam by Vermont Hambietonian. If
blood and breeding mean anything, liere’surely is in-bred
a trump coit, for. tue mare was very fast in her day, and
made many men rich on the turf, and this colt has an
undoubted right to claim a good future, :
9. A colt eight months old, dam Lady Carland, formerly
thefast road mare of Jolin Carland, well kuown to the
roadites and the politicians of the Cify Hail; she has a
record of 36, and was.a crack in her day, no road being
too long tor her staying abilities, she being by John
Nelson, he by son of imported Trustee, her dam by Main-
brino Chief, etc.

stakes, and certainly will make ithot for his young oppo-
nent.. In?ease he meets with no mishapaud is well on
the day of the trot, he must win if the race is-one of broken
heals.

‘Colonel Taylor has made up his mind to sell at auction
some of these oOlis and much other most valuable-breed-

thereby a rare opportunity to the pnblic, as the sale will
be positive and without reserve, consisting not of weed-
lings; ‘but tle; best at the farm.

After runuing over much of the stock at tlie farm, we

affable hostess’s housemaid,. The. call was. opporiune to
the inner man, as we. had been many days on the rail of
travel, and fad not partaken of a quiet secial meal in
some time, * ' * ~al

we omitted to detail the extreme pleasure we experienced
at thy sumptuous repast.

At the head of the table sat our jovial, rubicund host;
beaming with delight at his wife’s social spread, Before

' Colonel Taylor ‘pipes a choice and Fare piece of roast
| done to a hicety—brown and crisp on Wie outside and rare
to the center. On its right stands a pitcher of home-
brewed ale; on the left it is flanked by a flagon of pure
crab-apple cider. :
ham and eggs, bacon and veal, with all the vegetables of

 

trotting turf, to beat this'time in her day, Aviien ‘she we
f 831-2. “Of 8 :
blood.and staying qualities is the wien jor ei Buck Ke
t-su My
ug. ,

ld

the sire of Dexter, Gazelie, Nettie; Startle, and a host of, .

li owners of the‘same mind of value, and not
‘to sel), but feeling sure of realizing more. Many —

 
  

At Cofonel Taylor’s sale last year, Mr. De Gruw ‘stated }

it isthe |

only one’out of a volunteer mare, thus giving a double -*
4+strain of the direct Hambletonjan blood, and thus sure

mark well his igree—viz.: Sived by Rysdik,-Hamble-»-
ar iel Morris. - |
Dam by* ="

on earth. -He’is very open and long striding, and gaits. vd
{ we were tlie fortunate owner. ~|

4

eed, can lay claim to such»a ,

the “*
205

3. Colt by Fiorida, out of Mat Rumsey, by Friday, he by.

inly worthy the attention of hose wanting stout staying » |

4 A bay with one white sock behind, dam by Rydyk’s

This colt, we see, is entered in the Tuy, Field and Farm | —

ing and trotting steck,on the 25th of June next, giving .;
were reminded of the hour to dine by the gong call of the *~

Mrs. Taylor, we should: consider ‘our task unfinished. if
We shall venture, even at thes «
risk of ‘Jenkins’ being ‘charged to our many weaknesses.’ +

beef, /

The table sides were garnished with -

 

Ader and sadder” was pretty good, I had to confess.

ne, grace
\position, even had I not recognized the hand-
‘uld have apprised me that its author was the

over the painful meeting with my friends
rk that I refused to act auy longer in the
lier's agent, beside keeping Wiggies out
ra Whole week out of revenge; and
that the.only time; I ever thoroughly
latest born, was. upon that eveniug,
vme to dinner, he innocently greet-

as an amateur turf-
and therefure thor-
onstitutes a goed
‘tock farmers of

* the: “coming

Hy Taylor’ | nis

which is fi

Cloverdale

g

 

Be
tra.
gran
We
With th
‘oftiie tn
pleasaiit' «
We parts

among

 

 

Court House, consisting [
river bottom Jand, equaily adapied to grass

good, substantiai repair, an

After a two hours’ fu

the colonel’s sanctum, and take our’
bacco, aud ascend the’ stairs'to the good old Southern-
tyled broad and spacious piazza fronting the old Albany
‘sp SL rodd,aud from ait “s rr. thefentire Reker as
t lays Weforé us, an Ss;
d action of his manyoid-and young trotters,
-wateh the horses and sip otr cream nectar
‘e feelings of transcendant joy of old. Gentiemen
“f, ifyou want and desire to spend an exceedingly
‘ay, Visit Taylor—triie top sawyer, Colonel A. H:
‘d on that eventful eye—afler a pressing invila-

tion to Spain -
nel is a'capita.
many heartlels
-erous lost.on ‘thy

In next'week’s’ NEW"
Ker’s”’ acééunt of ‘Tom’ Oa
the other victims ef
mother-ikMa wy, aided’ b

the season. ‘In front of Mrs. Taydor, at the other end, §
smoked a large tureen of calveshead soup, With butter _
from’ her Alderney Cream, and such delicious cuffee as”
would make a Frenchman envy our lot...
All. of these, niceties were prepared
Aunt Harriet Anderson,.a colored mawron from our State ©
pride, old Virginia.
Mrs. Taylor pres

ne water power, gristf apd

Stock Farm, Virgitiia.”

Taylor to the land of peach

gars ‘of Cuban

various Foads} tofwily

ithe morrow on a trail for suipe, aslie

regrets, and a promise to revisit Our

wend

Collins” Again!

“ORK WEEELY will be found “Jo

Mins’ doings in Boston, w
ged-in-the search for h

by the good old -

ided with that suavity of mannef that |
reminded us vividly of past good oid joyons days Of the
South, ere the late ‘‘unpleasantness,’? when it was.our, :
ood portion tosit at the genial table of. the late Hon.7)
Ton Minor Botts and other friends dear to us,at the. “4
sunny South. : oF
During the after-dinner talk we learned with great’ sat'—
isfactiou that Colonel Taylor had purchased a plantation *
of 1,145 acres in Taylor 'ownship, Orauge Couuty, Vir-
ginia, located two and a half miles southwest of-Orange
f fine rolliigg “aud 290 acres of
ope gain, on,
aWetniil,, broom
factory, distillery! and fforge,> with all ‘out-Buildings fn:
- d all inclosed with good fence,
and will without donbt carry 300 liead of stock—kuown:
as “Cloverdaie’—and will hereafter be: styled *'Taylor's
This farm :is about
20 miles south of the late Hon. J. Minor Botts’s stock
farm. . On it now stands 100 acres oats, 100 acres wheat,
100 acres corn, And an excellent orchard of 1,200 bearing
apple trees, with 1,400 large white oak timbers, now in.
cutting and logging order, lo be cut and sawed Lhe com- —_
ing fall into car timber,
We welcome Colonel

ll digestion of substantial dinner
and its various acconipanying verre ave- ed t

S ue

l. shot and has some weli-bred Seteers— Ad

e 25th inst., the day of the sale, when
‘ave the opportunity to secure the future .
each atid ail‘willk Maid and,Occidents «§ Yo fat jy
rivals of Goldgniith iy a ae | “4y

2 whole police department, ©

'

and

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