Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, October 14, 1872, Page 2

2 ‘- 1THE CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE: NEW PUBLICATIONS, . THACKERAT'S WORKS, 120, 6 vols, Jaines R gsg:an &Co,, Boston. Jenxen, McClurg & Co., Chi- The publishers call this, we ‘believe, the ““Ken-~ ~=ington”- edition-of Thackoray's novels.~- It in- cludes “Vanity Fair,” “ Pondennis,” The New- comes,” ‘“Henry Esmond,” “The Virginians,” Y¢The Adventures of Philip,” evd one ortwo of “he lees ambitions tales. The pocms and earlior Lhumorous papers are not comprebended in the liet thus far, =lthough we hope thatthey will come within the scope of the publishers’ plan of reproduction. Upon the backofj each volume " eppears the trord “Ilustrated;” but, glancing . iy tober own at last, Ler revenge havin through the books, the expectation excited by ¥he cheering inthnation proves fallacious. The ‘only pictorial aids to the imagination are 2 por- “Araitof the suthor, anda frontispiece facing ‘each of the title-pages. Aside-from this defi- ‘ciency, the edition has the characteristic merits of the honse from which it emanates, and isin elegant and convenient form for common use. UNAWARES. By the Author of “The Ross Garden.” Roberts Brothers, Boston; Jansen, McClurg & Co., Chicago, Wehave heren cherming story, toldin the Yight, airy style of the French writers, but with = genuineness and permanence of feeling that is truly Anglo-Saxon. Ths acens is laid at Charville, 2 “quaint old town of toil and traf- fic,” situated somewhere in the north of France. The heroine supposes herself to Irave 2 passion for her cousin, a richyoung gentleman of ‘the bourgeoisie ; but, finding him unworthy, discov- 'ers that she has graduslly come to love her guar- dimm, a ckilfol and noble-hearted physician, ‘verging on 50, whom she at last marries. There isen elderly woman of averybad type,—why ‘are 0ld women in France so much more inclined tobe ekinny and vicious then in other coun- tries ?—who persecutes the heroine, but is dia- comfited ot last. The book is gracefully writ- “ien, with good descriptions, pithy passages, oc- ‘casionel depth and suggestiveness of thought, and is one of the most agreeable literary pio- ducis of the season. BTUDY OF BIOLOGY. By H. ALLEYNE NICROLSON, A D, D. 8¢, M. 4, &, &c. D. Avpleton & Co,, New York; Keen, Cooke & Co,, Chicago. __ Mr. Nicholson was formerly of the Medical Bchool of Edinburgh, but is at present a Profes- sor in a college in Toronto. Judging by his honorary appendages, and his previous physio- logical afiliations, he secms fully competent to his task. This book is rather 2 manual for ‘higher classes in schools than an elaborate work for general reading; bub it contains nearly sverything that the casual student desires to &now in regard to the nature and conditions of ife, and the simple primary forms under which 3118 manifestod. The author sxpresses himself tersely and clealy in the main, but does not in- dulge in rhetorical graces. The entirs subject of Biology i viewsd from an orthodox stand- point.—his differences with Darwin, on the mat- ter of selection and special creation of species; with Herbers Spencer, in regard to evolution; and with Bastian, in respect of spontaneous generation, being briefly and mod H‘lnxpressei 2 gnmnz handbook, his work will be found waluable and interesting. AT FHE ALTAR, From ihe Germsn of E. Winyen, J. 8. Lippincott & Ce., Philadelphia ; Keen, Cooks & - Co., Cieago, We have here 2 German novel that does not overflow with moralizing, and which cnlminates with something of the dramatic fervor go often found im the romantie writing of other nations. The translation, which is said to be by a _daugh- ter of the publisher, is euf and graceful. e heroine is an impulsiva girl, whose ):})ontmiety of ehsracter is attended With an excelfent dispo- sition and rauch good sente. The religions ele- 2ment mever degenerates into morbid piety, and is Ly subordinate te the sscular. Tho young s with her brother, whose lands adjoin ates of a Benedictine abbey. She falls in Yove with & monk (the unacknowledged son of a neighbering nobleman), who fially apostatizes and marries ker. ‘his apostacy is suspect~ * ed, his murder is attempted, but the blow falls n}:en the erring .monk's brother, and suspicion of the desd wpon himself. The father of his beloved bsing arrested, he reveals ihe truth, but the really guilty one escapes through the machi- nations of the Abbot of the cenvent. The plot i managed within limits. Themoral of the tale militates against the Catholic Church, and eecrat religious orders; how justly, it {s not with- in our province to determine, CLARA VAUGHAN. Bx Ricmiep D. BLAGKMORE. J. B, Lippincott & 0., Philadelphis ; Keen, Cooko & Co., Okicago, Mr. Blackmore informs his readers, in the ‘brightest of prefaces, that this book is his firat prose preduction, and that he has Lkept it perdu for 20 years, becauss it was accused of belng ““‘semsational” Bo sensational did the eritics deem it that ifa inspiraWion was attribnted toa “* popular femals autkor,” which we e an allusion to Miss Braddon. The geem to be insxcusable, for none of Miss Brad- #lon’s books have the brightness of description, %he brilliancy of dialogue, or the definiteness of charactbrizziion, that we ftad herein, Thestory g: of s girl whose fafher was murdered in Lis ‘while she was yot & child:by sa Italian ount, and wio spent many .of the kest years of er life in discoveri g the murderer. We will not undertake to decide whether the term ‘‘sen- ;sfiunnl." 28 applied to novels, is felicitous; 'but; f it has any certain meaning, *Clara Vaughan’ ‘belongs to that cthss of books, and is smong the best of its category. The adventures wre strong and _ wild, almost to the “verge of the unréal. Thers isa Devonshire farmer, with fall brezdth of dilect; a acheming woman, animated by a spirit of geuuine diablerie; » mysterious uncle, wrongfully sus- pected of the murder; and numerous minor persenages, all characterized by more or less cruditi ‘The interest of the chapters occa- slonally culminates aftor the following manner : And I [Mis ughan] swept out of the room, and through tke side-door intomy bed-room, where I crouched ix & corner, with both hands en my beart, and the whole world gons way. *Mad 4 bim ery; “yes, T must go mad st lest! vay Lo Ythe Iover) ruslied from the Louse, znd I fell upon the 4, and lay in fits till midnight, . As the heroine passed from maidenhood te womenhood the * fits” disappeared,—which cor- responds with the advice always given by astute ysicians to anxious mothers,—and czamo ;aiu- een fully accomplished. The unbiased reader will be very likely to conclude, in perusing the book, that no young lady not afflicted with *fita” wonld ever have been guilty of the yagaries of Clara Vaughan, But the tale ka3 its sterling merits, z0d calling it ‘‘sensetionel,” will not probably diminish the circle of its admirers. WILD OATS, SOWN ABROAD, By TREODORE WrT- e %. Petarson & Co, Fiildelpiis, 12 moy PP, 21. ‘Mr. Witmer made the grand four of the Conti- nent twenty years 250, 2 young, man fresh from zollego, and desirous of seeing more of the world beforehe settled down into professional grooves. His stay in England and on the Continent cov- ered a period of nearly tliree years. His oppor- tunities for observation wers, therefore, of the best, and his time for maturs reflection unlim- ited. His atylo is bright and entertaining, zl- though oceasicaally too brusque; lisdescriptions ayegraphic and animated; his personal allusions often witty. But, with these specifications, hia literary merits end. As for the reat, he reems to have been s lster Tom Jones, always in pur- - suit aghhu pleasuras, and bent on errands of fortiidden love. Houw he shyafl with the tangles of Norera's hair, sported with Amaryllis in the shade, and dallisd with Aepasia in her marble halls, s told with much amorous detail. He informs us that he was ‘‘no Joseph;” but the nasertion simply mekes his rhetoric redun- dant, Few peoplo are so much in love with vice that they are to Tead its purient tales when told by the lero of the amours, If Mr. Witmer had omitted the account of his adventures with Lon- don cyprians, French grisctes and chamber- ids, and Italian Faustines, his book would bo both readebla and valurble. The author was ‘unfortunately drowned in the Straits of Gibral- tar, the ufifli steamer in which he was crossing to the African shors being rundown by a Cri- mean transport. Were ho living, his better sce- ond thought would doubtless have prevented the Indiscreet republication of his volume, or would allowed it to reappear only after a vigorous ex- purgation. - BENTON'S EVERY-DAY COOKERY AND HOUSE-- EEEPING BODK. D. Appleton & Co, New York; Eeen, Cooke & Co., Chicago. This is really one of the most attraclive books upon £he gastronomic art we remember ever to beve seen. The prefatory mattor in regard to bousekeeping it minute and excellent.” There are over &Leen hundred practical recipes, and innummesrable piates, one hundred and four of which are colored. The latter are so well exe- cuted that the sight of themis appetizing. The etyle of the authoress is lucid, eand that she has fo eay, whether in regard to the hiring and mansgement of ser- vanis, or any other branch of domestic knowl- sdge, i eaid in & apizit of kindlinees, and with v Bomely good-sendo that ronders’her work highly attractive, We have rarely, if ever, séen &0 much sensible household information bronght within the limits of tho same volume. - ‘THE NORMAL MUSICAL HAND-BOOK, By Geoxo | T. BooT. QGeorge F. Root & Sons, Chicago, This little work purports to be a book of in- struction and reference forteachers of notation, voice-culiire, Larmony, and church ‘music, in clasges, and eeems to be admirably adapted to the purpose of the author. It contains very full, yet concise, statements of elementary principles, short lectures and devices for the use of teachers, full methods for ginfiing classges, the mode of teaching element armony and compoeition, and & dictionary which furnishes at once definitions and an index. The latter part of the work is the only one that is not true toits promise; it is claimed to be * pronounc- ing,” but it does not contain a clue to the pro- nunciztions of many words which are pmely %m!esaiunfl when used in English sentences. or inetance; we are not told whether or not we should sound the last leiter in the word Andante. Apart from this, the work 18 full of attraction to one who wishes to know how to teach music successfully, a8 it is not only full without pro- lixity, and very suggestive, but is also shnrfi]y critical, dafining meanings and positions with a closeness of atyle that will well reguy & perusgl, even by those who do not wish to be thorough in music. This, becsuse it will widen out the mind of the averago reeder to & much better appre- cietion of the powers and capacities of words and phrases, and tend to improye his logic. Those who know the anthor, and know of his life-long labora in the efiort to popularize music, would expect a irst-class work from his gg ; but even they will be disappointed—in ding it much better than anticipated. We may add that this wzs the first musical work published in Chicago after the Fire. THE GLORY, and THE HOUR OF PRAISE,—By Gronox F. Roox ; and THE SONG-TREE,~By P, P. Briss,—both published by George F.,Root & Sons, Chiicago, 5 These are all collactions of vocal music which will meet with a wide patvonage. The two first- named aro “‘sacred ” music. The “Song-Tree " consists of songs and ducts, the major part of the music having been composed atdifierent times by Mr. Bligsor his wife. All three have besn published in Chicago since the Fire of but little more than = yeer ago. A WAITING RACE: A Novan, By EDMUND YATES. D. Appleton & Co., New York: Keen, Cooke & Co., Chicago : The publishers have thrown this work upon the market, hoping that it will have a ready sale because the author is now in America. Without special urging, it is diffioult to seo why it should have apy sale at all. It iain Mr. Yates' worst manner, and has evenless than the ordinary in- terest attaching to one of his books. It belongs to the cnt:gnry of novels of society, and the 80~ ciety introduced is bad enough in all conscience. The heroine is of the Darrington family, a hat- blooded race, as prone to licentiousness as the eperks to fly upward. The taint is in the blood, and ineradicable. It is phyaically impossible that there sbould be a virtuous Darrington. Given, a female Darrington, and illicit love fol- lows as surely 28 a circle from a stated curve. Tho ~charectors _ are pale, Dblurred shadows of Lumanity, so _thoroughly ineipid that they are unable even to awaken a transitory interest in the reader. There is no breadth of eonception in the story, no ingenuity in the dialogue, no depth in the Easslon, no imegina- tive coloring anywhere. The pumonngea troop listlesely acrosa the scene, mopping and mowing, and uttering the stalest frippery of talk, as tho author crooks his finger. The sction passes upon goms country estates in England, in Lon- don, and at Nico. - Three Iadiea of the 'Darring- ton blood are introduced, all of whom are “beat- tiful exceedingly,” and all faithless wives. The last, who is the loveliest and most eccentric, transcends the limited mansgerial ability even of the author, and has_her brains dashed ot againat a lamp-poat, in default of more humane snd convenient means of taking off. Mr. Yates =aems never to have had the benefit of 2 classical | education, if such a fact is deducible from the Jooseness of Lis style, and ha endeavors to atone for the deficlency by a tawdry embroidery of colloquial French. "We hesr much of “the salle-g-manger and mendge of certain houses, the insouciance of cerfain characters; the heroine is susee and enlelce, but succeeds in establishing = sort of camaraderie between hersel? and another; he is engaged, but is_not sure of herself until the murlyin is affiche, end is guilly of many an esclandre. And so Mr. Yates goeson all through a phrese-book, which, no doubt, ke has lyiag by himfor grent- or convenience a he writes. Then, further, he is coarse and needlessly eddicted to slang. One of the Darrington 12dies is made to pull up be- fore somo ‘moral obstacle as ‘‘clumsily asan elephant at & wire-fence ;” and some of his el- derly dames ‘‘devour chicken-salad by the square yard.” If hehad eaid by the &quare Tuile, it wonld have been equally pertinent, and quite =8 witty. His jests ehow the dimmest phosphoreecence of real humor, and his society isonly the yellow, gaceons ecum that some- times-floats over thé deeper social pool. If he hag nothing better to dale outto us than such dribble as we find in ““The Waiting-Race,” the sooner he caases to write, and his publichers on this side the water to reproduce, the better will denizens of the world of letiers be eatisfied. A SOUTH-SEA DAY-DREAAL Alfred Domett, the hero of Robert Browning’s ‘¢ Waring,” has published the fruit of his thirty~ odd yenrs of self-imposed exile, in the shape of 8 )ioaxn of eighteen thonsand verses, under the title: ‘‘Ranalf and Amobia; a South-Sea Day- Dream.” Tho long story is half-autobiographi- cal, half-fanciful. Randlf is & Scotchman, cul- tured and Joung, wlio, weary of thi tamenéss of overy-day life, yields o the Toving fit tht almost mariers every man at some time of his life, and disappears from Great Britain to reappear in New Zealand. His rescue of Amohia, daughter of the great chief Tangi-Moana, or “Wailing Ses,” from =z horrible doom, introduces him forthyith into firat-class savage society. A di- gression gives us Ranolf's theological views, and we find that he has studied and cowpared all systems, and now believes only in God, and the general ominance of good, Tangi-Mozna’s cheery creed is also sketched. The ‘“Wailing Sea” has given up his belief in man's eating man ; but refuses to believe in To- pbet, despite the missionaries' vivid portraitures of that place: Once, when a zealous texcher from the North Tho terrors of his creed had thundered fortl,— Tnfolded with Leen zest, and fond desire . To saye his hearers from Fo sad a fate, His pleasant faith in everlosting fire, And painted all the pangs the damned await,— While horror blenched the cheeks of half tha crowd, 01d Tangi roared with laughter long and loud : That Hell of theirs, ho sald, might be a placo Wholesome and fitting for the white man’s race ; No Meord wes half bad enough to be Doomed to 50 horribles deatiny. * ¢ He for hia part would hava nought to da With a0y A tua, whether faleo or true, Who could delizht his direst foe to sca The vietim of such monstrous cruelty, And wherrhe learnt what adverse sex prevalled, And hovw the others’ doctrines they aszailed, He held his hand out, with the fingers spread— % So many ways to hesven yon teach,” he said : “Yfhen you have fixed the ‘right one andnone doubt it, *Twill then be time for me to think about it.” In a conversation something like that re- corded in the opening of Morris’ “ Earthly Paradise,” the difforent beliefs of 01d England and New Zealand are contrasted. Then the atory becomes one of action again. Ranolf is kiduapped. Amohiz balances the account be- tween them by rescuing him. Renolf flacs, to the musie of a plaintive ditty sung by Amo~ hia, beginning : Leave me! yes, too dear one, leave me ! Amohia's hand is asked in marrisge, but she . throws cold water on the propogal by swimming across the lake. On the other shore, a hot spring and Ranolf meet her. She recovers her strength by & beth in the former, -and is found therein by the latter, who- throws his cloak around her, and then, asthe poem says, he Led her to his dwelling lone : By all the Iaw the land supplied, 50 wedded and o mads bis bride, “They live together in happiness for sometime, and retwrn to Tangi-Moana's realmin time for Ranolf to decide a savage war by soundly pum- melling the hostile chief in a battle of fisticufls. 4 Wailing Sea" is conveniently put out of the way by getting 2 mortal wound, and Amohjasoon after puts herself out of the way, Lecauss she surmises that Ranolf has ceased to love her. The latter thinks that she is dead, whereas she Lag only run away. He goes dieconsolately to the zea-shore, engagos passage to England, and spends'the evening in & hat, bewailing his loss. Ly ona of ‘those miracles which poete are allow- ed, oven in this unbelieving age, towork, Amo~ bia ie esleep in that very but. She wakes. She hears. 1t je—it is—her Ranol The curtain fallson a tableau of mutual joy. rises to show the lovers fairly embarked for {\ame, and falls again fiual]!{. & The Loudon Atheneum~—to whichwearemaine ly indebted for facts concernivg this book—criti~ ciees it as too long drawn-out. Spesking of a single incident, it says : B To ezcape the Lated nuptials, Amohia resolves to swim the Iske—a feat requiriug two-and-twenty pages, —and does it ! And again: ¢ £wvim bas been beguiled by the many things the maiden thought of, and some which 56 did not, the list of the latter*occupying five pages. - : Nevertheless. the Athenceum preizes tho poem, plot, no" pertinence to the. indemnifying iteelf for so doing by making this clever hit on Robert Browning : . It is trus that our nuthoris always clear; he does ot, as some poets of the duy, require to bo 'read, With nut-crickers, to ensble onc to get at bis kernel, ~ - Mr. Domett is gsid to have fled his country be- cause he thought his talents were not-appre: ated. His 60 yearswill provent another pi grimage, if the reception of this book gives him the enme impression now, Howaver, although bis_poem mey Leve fallen short of the very Ligh oxpectations excited by his romsntic life ; it cer- teinly enriches English literature, and will prob- ably do much to swell the stock of quoteble s8Ry~ ings: Take the line: 3 Evening now Steals like 3 serious thought o%er joyons face, What could be better, in it way, than this? Other Pubtications. PRINCIPLES OF GEOLOGY., By S CHARLES Lxes, Bart, M A, E B8 V.o Bevised Edi- 2D eton 0., New 3 Ja 3cClurg & Co, Chicago, iy _The first volume of this work has been re- viewed et length in our columns, - ANATOMY, .PHYSIOLOGY, AND EYGIENE. By er, g 5; dn &Ca, Chicogo, " : SR AT A emall and convenient handbook, worthy to gomth the many other excellent text-baoks rom the-enme publishers. LIVY. VIRGIL, Wa have also from Eldridge & Brother three volumes more of their excellont classical series, unexcelled by sny similar works hitherto pub- lished in this country. These comprise & vol- ume of Livy, and two of the works of Virgil. One volume of the latter inclues the Bucolics, Georging, end Moretuns, with notes and & vo- cabular ; the other comprises the whole of the ZEneid, copiously annotated, but without the yo- cabulary. MEMOIR OF COLONEL CHARLES §. TODD. By G. W. GRIFFIN, Claxton, Remsen & Hal T, Phila delphia. Western News Company, Chicago. .. A well written book, and valusble because of its historical reminiscences of the war of 1812, and the Harrison Presidential campaign. OLIVE VARCOE: A Nover, By Fraxcis DERRICE, Loring, Boston, Western News Company, Chicago, A sensntional story, told with considerable energy and effectiveness. DUAMAS’ NOVELS, From T. B. Peterson & Brother. We have two more of the cheap edition of Dumas’ novels, which they are now engagzd in republishing: ‘“The Chevzlier” and Six Years Later.” Thoy are among the best of the author's works. — GENERAL NEWS ITEMS. Thers is & grent demand in San Francisco, from Chicago and other Eastern cities, for Chinese domestic servants. ~Tho efforts made- to cultivate the tea plant at Calistoga, Cal., have entirely failed. Nearly all af the plants, 15 is stated, are dead: —A lad named Haas was boiled in a beer vat, at Dubugque, last Friday, and when taken out his skin came off. He died in a few hours. —There was a fight at Shilo_Oburch, Coving- ton County, Misa., the other day, in ‘which the combatants'were the Sullivans and their friends on one gide, and the Chains and Dykes on the other. Two men were killed outright, another ;nortaflly wounded, 2nd four others badly in- jured. —The authorities of Middletown, Ct., propose to use the 38,000 which its liqnor dealers have aid for licenses as & fund for the relief of fam- ies who recaive injuriea or damages resuiting from the drunkennaes of those upon whom they are dependent for support. —A despatch eays of the conflagration in White Hall, Greeno County, 1L, last Friday: ‘ The town is more completely wiped out of existence than was Chicago. “The desolation ia complete. During the fire some ruffians under- took to make a disturbance, ich, however, wes promptly quelled by the citizens.” —The Garde Republicaine Band, eince ita re- turn to Parie, has played at the Tuilerics, where, says the Revue el le Gazelle Musicale, “ells a execute le Stara et le Yankee Doodle Americian,” ““Star Spangled Banner” is too great amouthful for French speekers, 80 the national melody is convenienily abbreviated into “le Stara.” —The only persons left at the Tip-Top house on Mount Washington aro three signal officers, who aro equipped with a largs stock of coal, four barrels of onions, about forty hams, twenty bushels of potatoes, & good wupply of canned, goods, and all manner of groceries in gro(nsicn. & violin, harmonicon, a good-sized library and quantities of nowspapers, aud expect. o spend a. pleasant winter. —The progress of the Hoosac tunnel during September was as follows: East end, 112 feet ; west end, 85 fest ; central shat, 105; total; 810 feot. Total length opened to October 1, enst end, 10,935 feet ; central ehaft, esst, 1,283 foct ; west, 330 feet ; west end, 8,208 feet; making n total of 20,809 feet; leaving 669 feet between the east end contral shaft, and 3,657 feet be- tween the west end and central shaft. —One J. Q. Bruce bought an elevator at In- dianols, Tows, about a month ago, and, being a rominent member of the order of Patrons of usbandry, drew in large smounts of wheat from membera in that region. When things were all fixed to his notion, he sloped, swindling the Grangers, benks, and other parties, to the an}]u%:oc of eomewhere between $10,000 and 20,000. —The Postmester General of England, in his annual report, quotes, among others, the fol- lowing complimentary letter from an American gentleman, which goes far to prove the perfec- tion to which the postal system has been bronght in England: ¢ Having recontly arrived in Eng- land, and not knowing the present wheresboni of a sister, I addressed a letter to her late resi- dence thus: Upper Norwood, or elsewhere.” Ireceived o reply in orderly course of mail, say- ing that it had been delivered to her on the top of stage coach in Wales, I ventnre to sayno other country can show the parallel, or would take the troublo at any price.” » —Coldwater and vicinity, Mich., has been startled by the most cruel murder that hes oc- curred in Branch County for yeara. ¢ aro gs follows: About 18 months ago 2 Miss Wedge gare birth to an illegitimate child, the father of whom, one Ryan, abeconded to Missou- ri. A fow weeks since he returned, and, ib is geid, promised Miss Wedge that. if she would digpose in some manner of her child, then he would take her West and marry her. So she carried the child—a little girl—down to the lake, thréw it in, and stood and looked on until it ceased struggling and sank. Then she went back to the house, and, when questioned, re- lated what she had done. On' the 5th inst. both she and Ryan were bound over to the Cir- cuit Court. - —Tudge Benedict, of New York, who has just sentenced criminals to one year’s imprisonment and $500 fine for sending obscene publications through the Post Office, bas remarked that the punishment is totally inadequate, but it is il that the law allowa. *The business,” says the New York Journal of Commerce, ““is 80 deadly to the best interests of mankind, 50 barbarons- Iy ot war with all tha civilization is endesvoring to do, that we do not trust ourselves to suggest an adequate penalty;” but the Journal never- thelesa mildly recommends & return to the whip- Ein]g-pm and the pillory, for persisting in which ittle Delaware has been so often held up to The lash is now being reintroduced into scorn. the English penal code, for offences which com-* mon modes of punishment do not check, and the result up to this time is highly satisfactory. —The Internal Revenns collections in the Firat District of Ohio, for themonth of SBeptem- ber, 1872, smounted to $628,285.93. Of this amount, $486,588.30 were derived from the tax on spirits, AR S N The Wine Crop. Mr. Charles Estingoy, the well-known Bor- deaux wine desler, writes to the Wine and Fruil Reporter ““The auspices for our next vintage in general ere anything but brilliant. The good qualities of wine arxe growing more 6carce overy dsy, snd whatever there may be for sele yetis Leld so high thet it is almost an imposeibility to pur- chese. BShould, as it is feared by many, the quality of the new wine not_be 80 good as it was expected formerly, our wine trade would be %'raltly embarrassed, and the wine of 1870 would fetch enormous prices. The most common cargo wines are held now at 860 to 880 francs, and wines of Eood color are far higher still, circum- stances which may before long put o stop to our trads in low-priced wines.” S : Insurance Losses. The large majority of loss payments made by fire insurance companies are the outgrowth of incendiarism. The existence of so bold and persistent an enemy to insurance capital has neutralized all hope of making underwriting a profitable field for the continuous employment of capital, A careful analysis of the cause of fires in London, New Yok, or Philadelphia, ehows that nine-tenths of the fires originate by carelessness or crime. s 5 In 2 London police court the startling dis- closure was recently made that more than one hundred arson offences had been committed by one individusl, andin another case the fires ceased in & district when a certain individual was arrested. The ?erson had set fire to sixty or more houses merely to obtain the informer's fee of helf & crown or e ‘The facts™ . EUGENIE GRANDET ; ot < OBy . Scemes of.-Provineial Life. Translated fvom the French of Do Balzac for The i Chicago Tribune: 5 ] ur This. social gaiety, in this' gray old room, poorly lit by two candles ; these laughs, sccom- peined by the noise of Grande Nenon's wheel, and which were sincere only when they came from Engenie or her mother; that smallness associated with such great interests ; that young gitl who; like birds, victims of the high prico at which they are hold, and of which they are ig- norant, - found herself encireled’ and bound by manifestations of friendship whose dupe she was,—all ehared in making this sceno sorrow- Tully comic. But isit not one common to all times and places, though reduced to its simplost expression? The person of Grandet, utilizing the false attachment of the two families by drawing immense gains from it, controlled this drams and explained it. Was not the only mod- erngod who is believed in—money—in all its povwer, expressed by a single face? The sweeter feelings of life held but a secondary place there; they animated three pure hearts: those of Nanon, Eugenie, and her mother, Btill, how much ignorance in their simplicity! Eugenie and her mother knew nothing of Grandet's fortune; they judged of worldly matters butby the glimmer of their dull idens, and neither val- ted nor despised money, accustomed, &5 they were, to do without it. Their feelings rasped, though they knew it not, but yet lively, end their secluded existence made them curious ex+ ceptions in this gathering of people whose lives were purely material. Frightful condition of man! there is not one of his joys which does not arise from his ignorance. Just a8 Madame Grandet won a pool of eix- teen sous,—the greatest that had ever been Pplayed for in that room,~and 28 Grande Nanon laughed " delightedly at seeing her mistress pocket that immense sum, 2 blow of the knocker resounded at the door of the house, and made 80 great a noise that the women started from ibeir seats. “No Ssumer man knocks in that way,” eaid the notary. “How can anyone pound like that?” said Nanon. ¢ Do they want to break our door ?” Nanon took one of the two cendles, and went to open the door, accompanied by Grandet. “Grandet! Grandet!” cried hi8 wife, who, im- pelled by an indefinite feeling of fear, started toward the door of the sitting-room. All the players looked at one another. * Supposing we wero to go algo ?"” eaid Mon- sicur des Grassins. *That knock seemed rather inimieal, to me."” Monsieur des Grassins barely had a chance to see the form of ‘a young man, accompanied by a porter who carriéd {wo_immense valises, and agged some travelling bogs. Grandeb turned abraptly to his wife, and gaid to her, “Madame Grandet, go to yourloto! Let me find what this gentleman wants.” Then he %\_lickl closed the sitting-room door, when tho disturbed playera resumed their seats, but. without going on with the game. - “Is it somebody belongin, sieur des Grassins 2" asked #No, it is a traveller.” ¢ He must be from Paris, then,” ‘‘Indeed,” said the Notary, pulling out his old watch, two finge;fl thick, and which resembled a Dutch veesel, “‘itis 9 o'clock. The etage is never late.” ““Is this gentleman going?" eaid the Abbe Cruchot, ‘“Yes,” replicd Monsieur des Grassins, ‘‘and he has baggage ts;& must weigh at least seven in_Saumur, Mon- 8 wife. _ bundred pounds. “Nanon does not coms back,” enid Tagenie. 71t can only be one of your relations,” said the President. “Let us put up our stakes,” eaid Madame Grandet, gontly. . “By his voice, I saw that Monsieur Grandet was vexed; perhaps he will not be pleased if he noticed that we are talking of his concerns.* 3 ‘‘Mademoisclle,” said Adolphe to his neigh- bor, “it is unquestionably your consin Grandet, & very good-looking young man, whom I saw af Monsieur de Nucingen's ball.” Adolphe did not continue, for his mother pressed his foot; then, asking him loudly for two sous for her stalo, ’gm} ég hig ear, ““Will you keep still, you gma{ 0ol At that moment, Grandet came back, without Grande Nanon, whose tread and that of the por- fer was heard on the stairway; he was followed by the_stranger, who, for several minutes, had eXcited 80 much curiosity, and- 80 freatly occu- pied the imagination of all that Lisarrivelin this house, and hig fall in the midst of these people might be compared to that of a enail in & bee-hive, or the introduction of a peacock into some obscure village ponltry?aza. £ Sit down by the fire,” said Grandet. Before doing 80, the young man bowed affably to the company. The men rose to acknowledge it by a courteous bow, and the ladies made cere- monious curtsies. * You must be cold, sir,” suid Madame Gran- det. “Perhaps you have come from——" ‘¢ Just like you women!” said the old vine- dresser, stopping the rending of a letter he held in his band, * Do let him rest himself.” But, father, perhaps he wants something,” said Eugenie. g = “He has & tongue,” replied the vine-dresser, arshly. . “Tho anknown was the only one mu?rised by this scene. The others were accustomed to Grandet’s despotic ways. Nevertheless, when these two questions and these two cnswers had been exchnnhgad, the unknown rose, turned his back to the fire, raised one of his fest so as to ‘warm the gole of his boot, and eaid fo Eugenie, “Thank you, cousin, I dined at Tours,” and, added e, looking at Grandet, *I need nothing, I am not even tired.” “Do you come from the Cepital?” esked Madame des Grassina. Charles,—for that was the name of the gon of Monsieur Grandet, of Faris,—hearing himself questioned, took a small eyeglass, hung by a chain from his neck, put it to his Tight eya to examine both what was on the table, and the Kxerson seated at it, stared very impuréinenfiy_ 2t [adame des Grassins, and replied, after havin, soen all there was to see, “ Yes, Madame. 500 you are playing loto. My sunt,” added he, lot me beg you to go on with your game; it is too entertaining to leave.” T was guro it was the cousin,” thought Me~ damo dos Gressing, ogling him. ‘‘Forty-goven!” exclaimed the old Abbe, plense mark, Madame des Grassins ; is not that your number 7" Monsiour des Graseins put s counter on the cerd of his wife, who, possessed by gloomy fore- bodings, observed successively the Peris cousin end Eugenie, without thinking of loto. Now and then the young heiress cast furtive glances at her cousin, and the banker’s wife conld easily dizcern in them & crescendo of astonish- ‘ment or curiosity. Charles Grandet, a hondsome young msn of 22, offered a singular contrast to these worthy provincials, whom his aristocratic manners had alresdy disgusted to some extent, and all of ‘whom sought an opportunity to ridicule him. This needs =an explonation. At 22, men are atill near enough to childhood to fall into puerilities. 8o, perhaps, out of & hundred, ninety-nine would have behaved 8 Charles Grandet did. Bome days previous to this evening, his father hed told him to go and spend a few months with his brother, at aumur. Perhaps Monsieur Grandet, of Paris, thought of Eugenie. Charles, who went into the country for the first time, hed tho idea of . appearing there with all the unpefiufltg‘o o young man of the fashion, to drive the district to despair with his gorgeous- ness, to make an era there, and to import the inventions of Parigian life. To explain it all in & word, he wanted to spend mora time on brugh- ing his nails at Spumur then at Paris, and to dis- play that excessive nicety of dress which & young man of fashion sometimes discards for a negligence which is not without grace.. Cherles brought away with him then the best-looking hunting-costtume, the best-looking gun, the best- looking knife, end tha best-looking sheath, in Paris. He brought with him his collection of the most etylish vests; he had gray, black, and white ones; vests shot with gold, and in plaids; double vests, ebawl vests 3 or with standing collars, with turn-over collers, or buttoning up close, with gold buttons. He bronght all the vnitics of collars and cravats in favor at that time. He brought two coats by Buisson, and his finest linen. He brought his fine, fi"ld toilet-case, 4 present from his mother. o brought his dandy knick-knacks, not forgetting s delicious little writing-desk, given him by the dearesh of women, to him at ieg!t,—by & great lady whom he called Annette, and who was traveling, mar- itally and stupidly, in Scotland, the victim to some suepicions to which it was _necessary, for the moment, t0 Racrifico hior happiness; ead he MONDAY, OCTOBER-14, 1872, also bronght &' quantity of pretty paper on which to, “write I:etnle(:tgr every fiftean .days. . He . .brought, in stock of Parisien trifles as _com; possible to make it, and in which, from the Tiding-whip which serves to begin & duel, to the ‘handSome chased pistols which end it, were all the implembnts which s yoang-idler uses to-cul:- tivate life., His father having told him to travel alone and tnostentationsly, ke hod come in the coupa of tho stnge, which he_had taken forhis sole use, eetisfied, on the whole, at.not having {o spoil an elegant travelling cerriage which he had ordered that he might go to meat his An- nette, the great lady wWho, etc, and whom be was- to rejcin during - the fol- lowing . June ‘&t the springs ‘of Baden. Charles ealculated on mesting & hundrad pay sons at his uncle’s, on hnnfl_ng i his nncle’s fo ests, and spending o country:houee life; he di not know that he should find him in Ssumur, where he bad made inguiries concerning him, only to ask the way to Froid fond; but, learn- ing that he waa in the town, he expected to find him in & grand mansion, In order to make & ‘proper first appevrance at his urcle's, at Ssumur or at Froid fond, he had pus on the most coguet- tish of travelling suits, the mostsim;{ly choice, the most adorabla,—to use the word which at that time summed up the epecial perfections of a thing or aman. At Tours, a hair-dresser had recurled his handsome chestnut hair; he had changed his linen, and bad put on & black satin cravat, combined with around collar, so as to form a Klansmg frame for his fair and smilin face. half-buttoned Lrflvafling—o\'ercont fitte tightly at the waist, and exposed to view a cash- mere shawl-waistcoat, under which was a sec- ond one, white. His waich, negligently left to take care of itself in & pocket, was fastened, by a short gold chain, tooneof the button-holes: His gray pantaloons buttoded on the sides; whero figures embroidered in black silk, set off the seams. He handled with grace a cane, whose engraved gold head did not impair. the freshness of his gray gloves, In conclusion, his cap was in _excollent faste. A Par- isian, of the lthest epheré‘ could alone both adorn himself thus without appearing credu-. lous, and give a harmonious foppishness to all these trifles, a foppishness which was supported, moreover, by & brave air,—the air ofa young man who has fine pistols, a sure sim, and An- nette. New, if you desire to fully understand the raciprocal surprise of these Saumur people, and of the young Parisian, tosee perfectly the striking refulgence which the elegance of thé fraveller “cest in the midst of the gray shadows of the sitting-room, and of the persons whomade nup the family circle, try to imagine the Cruchots. All three took snuff, and had long ceesed thinking of avaid.iu either the' begrimed upper lip or the little black patches which besprinkled the bosoms of their red shirts, wrinkled collars and iallmvish plaits, Their unstarched cravats worked into ropes as soon as they were fastened around their necks. The immense amount of linen, which enabled them to dispense with o wash-dey, except once in every six months, and to keep it ehut up in their closets, allowed Time to imprint bis gray ond entique hues uponit. They possessed a ony of ungracefulness and age. Their faces, as faded out as their thread-bare coats, as wrinkled as_their pantaloons, seemed worn out and shrivelled, and were puckered up. The general negligence of the other dresses, all incomplete and without freshness, as provincial toilettes are, where they insensibly. cease dressing for one another, and mind the price of s pair of gloves, fitted with the indifferonco of the Cruchots. Abhorrence of feshion was the only point on which the Grassin- ists and Cruchottina agreed perfectly. If tho Parisian 160k his eye-glass to examina the sin- gular accessorics of the room, the beams of the ceiling, the color of the woodwork, or the specks the flies had left there, and whose . number would have sufficed to punctuate the Encyclopedie Methodique in the Monileur, the loto-players immediately lifted their noses, and looked at him with as much cn- riosity as they would have shown fora_giraffe. Monsiour des Grassins and his son, to whom the appearance of & man of fashion wasnot nn- known, still shared the astonishment of their. neighbors,—either because they experienced the’ indefinable influence of a general feeling, or be- cause they approved it, esying to their, fellow- townsmen, by looks full of irony, *“Ees what they are at Parig!” All could watch Charles at their ease, withont . - short, a feur of displeasing. the master of the house. ~ Grandet was =sbsorbed in _the lon; lotter he held, and to read it he hed taken the solitary light from the teblo, careless of his guests and of their amusement. Eugenie, to whom the type of such perfection, in dress or in person, was entirely unlknown,- believed ehe saw in her cousin a creaturs de- scended from some seraphic region. She breathod . with delight the perfumes emitted by that hend of hair, so0 gloesy and so Em:efully curled. She would huve likied to havo been able to touch the white ekin of thosa pretty, fino gloves. Ehe envied Charles’ small hands, his complexion, | ihe froshness and the delicacy of his Ignt\l.res. In short,—providing this comparison can epit- omize the impressions tho young dandy pro- duced on an ignorant girl, constantly busied in darning stoclangs an clothes, and whose life hus ‘flowed on under those dirty ceilings, without soeing, in that silent strost, more than one passar-by in an hour,—the sight of her cousin caused to wellup in her heart the emotions of refined pleasure which are in- spu'edinnEyo\m mag by the fantastic female figures in English kecpsakes, drawn by Westall, and engraved by tho Findens with 8o ekilinl & wver that ono feers to_breathe on the paper lest these celestial l@psrifions fly away. Charles drew from his pocket a handkerchief worked the tEmnc lady who was traveling in Scotland. At the sight of this beautiful fabric, made with love during hours lost for love, Eugenie looked at her consin to Imow if he was really going to uge it. Charles’ manner, his motions, the way in which be used his eye-glass, his affected impertinence, his contempt for the work-box which had g:'ven the rich heiress so. mach plessure, end which he plainly looked on 88 valueless or ridiculous,—in offended the Cruchots and the des Grassins, pleased her so much that, before going to Eleep, she wes to dream long of this pheenix of cousins. The numbers were drawn very slowly, but presently the loto was stopped. Grande Nanon. came in, and seid out loud: *Madame, you will have to give me some sheets, to make this gen- tleman’s bed,"” & Madame Grandet followed Nanon. Madame des Grassins then said, in alow voice, * Let us keep oursous and quit the Ioto.” Each one took back his two_sons from the old, chipped saucer in which he had put them ; then the company moved in a body, and formed a circle before the fire. ‘“ Are you through?” eaid Grandet, without leaving his letter. ; ¢ Yes, yes,” replied Mgdame des Grassins, taking a seat near Charles. . Eugenie, moved by one of those thoughts ‘which are born in the hearts of girls when emotion takes up its abode there for the first’ time, left the_sitting-room to. help her mother and Nanon., If she had been guestioned by an adroit_confessor, she’ would, doubtless, have aclmowledged to him that she thought neither | of her mother nor of Nanon, but that sho was tormented by a keon desire to examine her cousin’s room, in order to busy herself there about him, to put something there, to remedy some forgetfulness, to look after eveything, g0 28 to make it a8 elegant and neat as osgible. Eugenie already believed herself the only one capable of under- standing her cousin's tastes and ideas. As it was, she very luckily got there in time to prove to her mother and Nanon, who were returning, thinling that everzthing was done, that every- thing was yeb to be done. Bhe-suggested to Grande Nanon the idea of warming tgn shests with coels from the fire; she herself covered the old table with & napkin, and urged Nanon to change it every morning. 8he convinced her mother of the necessity of making & good fire in the fireplace, and induced Nanon to bring up, without saying anything to her father, a large ile of wood to the corridor. She ran to get rom one of the sideboards in the sitting-room a dish in old lacquer, which was a partof the leav- ings of old Mongieur de la_Borte! ore, and also took a crystal goblet with six faces, asmall spoon whose gilt was worn off, an old flagk on which loves were engraved, and triumphantly put them all on one corner of the mantel-piece. More idens had sprung up in her in a quarter of an ‘hour than she hed bad since she was born. *Mamma,” said she, ‘‘my cousin cannot bear the smell of a tallow-candle. Supposing we were to buy & waxlight>” She went, as light as a bird, to take from her Kuse the crown she had received for her monthly Sxpenses. “ Here, Nanon,” gaid she, “‘go quickly. 2 “‘But what will your father say > This terri- ble objection was raised by Madame Grandet, as she saw her daughter holding a sugar-bowl of old Beores, brought from the chateau of Froid- fond by Grandet. * Where do you expect to get sugar? Are you mad ?” amms, Nanon will buy some suger along with the waxlight.” “But your father?” *“Would it be decentfor his nephew to be un- able to have & glass of sugar an water? Be- sides, he will not notica it." 1 Your fother sees everything,” said Madame Grandst, shaking her head. Hf‘&mn hcaitsteg ; ehe kna&v her l;mslg:‘r._ evar i Nenon, and go, for it is frthdag * £ my b Téte as ib was. | ple of Saumur at mending her father's short, all which | .| family. - early poverty condemned us. Nanon laughed noi jest her yorgx" mistress had ever made, and obeyed her. ile -Eagenic and her mother _wera trying to besntify the room designated b; Monsieur Grandet for his nephew, Charles foun himself the object of the attentions of Madame des Grassin, who made advances to him. g -—¢You are very brave; sir; said she, “to leave the pleasures of the capital during the winter to como and live at Szumur. Bat, if we do not Arighten you too much,- you. gon can amuse himself here.” % She'gave him-a genuine provincial look; for there, from habit, the women put so-much re-’ serve i their eyes, that they impart to them the savory cnncnfiiscence peculiar to those of eccle- siastics, to whom every plenstire seems o theft .or-an error; Charles was eo lost in this “sitting- -room, 8o different from the vast country=house and the lordly existence hé had presupposed his uncle enjoyed; that, by looking at Madame des Grassins; he at last 3 ness of Parisian faces. He replied with courtesy to the sort of invitation extended to him, and g. conversation nsturally sprung up, in which Madame des Grassing gradu- ally lowered her . voice'so’ as .to- harmonize it with the natuve of her confidences. -Thers ex- isted in her, and in Charles, 8 'common need of trust, * So, after some moments of coquettish talk and sober pleasantries, the adroit provincial Was able to say to him, without being heard by | the other persons. present; who wero talking of the wine-market; which was busying all the peo- . that time, It you will do us the honor of calling upon us, you will certeinly gfihgnmy husband, as much’ as yon will me. ur drawing-room is the ox‘:}i one in Saumar where you will find fogether ledding business men and the nobility; we belong to both sets; which wish "t0 meet there: only becsuse theré they amuse themeelves; My husband, I ‘srls'y it with pride, is equally respected by both. So we will try to relieve the ennuiof your stay here. If you stop with Monsieur Grandet, what will be- come of you? Your uncle is o miser, who thinks only of his vine-layers; your sunf is & devotee, Who cannot put two ideas together; &nd your cousin a little fool, uneducated, com- mon, without a dowry, and. who spends her life in mending dishcloths,” - “This woman is quite passable,” said Charles Grandet to himself, a3 le responded to the at- tentions of Mademe des Grassina. “1t seems to me, my dear, that you want to fascirate Monsieur Charles,” seid the stout and tall banker, with a laugh: At this observation the notary aud the Presi-- dent made more or less malicious remarks; but the Abbe looked at them with 4 ehrewd air, and epitomized their thonghts by saying, 2s he took & pinch of snuff, and opened his box to the com- any, ““Whocan do the honors of Saumur for onsient better than Madame ?” ‘“Ah! but how do you mean that, Abbe?” asked Monsieur des Grassins. B “Imesan it, Monsieur, in the sense most favorable for you, for Madame, for the towyn of Saumar, and for Monsiuer,” added the cunning old r:an, turning to Charles. .. Without seeming to pay the leest attention to it, Abbe Cruchot had conjectured the conversa- tion of Charles and Madame des Grassins. “gir," gaid Adolphe, finally, to Charles, with an air which he would gladly have made’ essy,. “*I do not know whakhmnu have kept any re- membrance of me. I the %lsnsnra of being your vis-a-vis at a ball given by the Baron da Nucingen, and—-" “Perfectly, sir, perfectly,” replied Charles, astonished to_sed himself the object of such general attentions. “Is this gentleman your son?” inquired he of Madame des Grassins. The Abbe looked at the mother maliciously. Yes, sir,” she said. “You twent to Paris very young, then?” re- sumed Charles, addressing” himself to Adolphe. “ What wonld you have, sir ?” said the Abbe; ““we send them to Babylon as soon as they are weaned.” Madome de Grassins questioned the Abbe with & look of astounding eelh‘ “It is necces- sary to come to the country,” said he, contina- ing, “to find women of thirt) y—udd’ years as fresh as Mademe is, after having had sons who will soon be edmitted to the bar. I vividly re- ‘member the dsy when the young folks and the married ladies 8tood on chairs to see you dance, Madame,” added the Abbe, turning to his fo- male adversary. “For me, your sudcesses are of yesterday.” “Oh, the old sconndrel!” said Aadame des Grassins to herself ; ‘* has he found me out 2" ‘It seems that I am to have a decided success at Shumur,” thonght Charles, as_he unbuttoned. his overcoat, put iis hand outside his vest, and gazed through space,” to imifate the attitude given Lord Byron by Chantrey. The inattention of Father Grandet, or, rather, the absorption in which the reading of his letfer plunged bim, esenped neither tho Notary nor tia esident, who tried to make out its contents by the slight motions of the face of the i“fd man, then distinctly lit by the candle. e_vine- dreseer preserved with difficulty the habitual calm of his physiognomy. But each one can fancy for himself the countenance worn by that man a8 he read the following fatal letter: “My brother, it will soon be twenty-three years since we met ; my marriage was the’sub- ject of our last interview, after which we parted, oth happy. Certaialy Leonld mot forodeo that youwould one_dsy be the stay of the family Whose smsyerity Jou then n{lphudad. When on hold this letter in your hands, I shall i onger exist. In the position in which I was, I did not wish to survive the shame of a failure. T have sustained myself on the edge of the abyss till the lust moment, always hoping to escape it. But I muet fall. The united b tey of my broker, and of Roquin, my notary, takes T8 e o) away my last rezources, and leaves me-'noth- | ing.” Ihave the sorrow of owing nearly four miliions, while my assets will meet: only twenty- five per cent of it. My wines in store are of- fected by the ruinous fall of prices, cansed by the abundance and quality of your vintages. In three deys Paris will say, ‘Monsieur Grandet was & cheat” I, who am honest, lie down wrapped in a shrond of infamy. I take from my son both his names, which I stain, and his mother's fortune. Ho knows nofhing of this,—that unhappy child whom I idolize. Weo_ said good-bye tenderly. Hoppily he did not_know that the lsst drops of my life flowed out in that farewell. :Will he not curse me some day? DMy brother! my brother! the curse of our childron is_frightful; they can ap-. seu from ours, but theirs is irrevocable. Gran- let, you are my elder brother ; you owe me your protection ; 80 ac that Charles may cast n re- proaches on my grave. My brother, if I wrote you with my blocd and my tears, thers would not be a3 much sorrow as Ih&veaint into this letter, for then I should weep,—I should bleed, —I should die,—I should suifer no more ; but I suffer, and seo death with my dry eyes. So now ou are Charles’ father. He hes ng relations on s mother’s side; you know why. Why did I not obey the prejudices of socioty ? Why did I yield to love? 'Why did I m the natural daughter of ‘s great Lord ? Now, Charles has no Oh, my unhappy son! my son! Pa sattention, Grandet ; I have not come to beseec! fou for Dysolt; bosidgs, your means may not great eno to stand & morfgage of threo ns; but for my son! Understand it, my brother ; my suppliant hands sre clasped a8 I think of you. Grandst, now that I am dying, I confide Charles to you, Then Ilook “:‘x{l istols without grief, as I think that yon will be a father to him. _Charles really loved me; I was 8o kind to him; I nevercrossed | him ; he will not curse me. Then, as you will see, he is gentle; he is like his mother; he” ' will never canse you grief. Poor child! nsed to the enjoyments of wealth, Le knows none of the privations to which our And*now he is ruined,—alone. Yes, 2ll my friends will shun him, and I shall be the cause of his humiliations. Ah! I wish my arm wers strong enough to send him with one blow to Heaven, to be with his mother. Ifadness! I retarn to my misfortune,— to that of Charles. I have therefore sent himto you, g0 that yon may tell him;. in & proper “ay, Of my death and ' his fatars destiny. Be a father o him, but a good father. Do not tesr him suddenly from his idls life ; Sou will Lill him. . I beg bim on my knees to renounce the claims whick, as hia mother’s heir, hecan enforce against me. But thatis ause- legs prayer; he has honor, and will feel that he should mot join my creditors. Make him re- nounce his right to inherit from me, at the piper time: *Boveal to Tim tha hard ife I have s for and, if he retzing his affection for me, tall him, inmy name, that all isnot lost for him. i’qs, work, which saved us, may re- store to him the future I have taken away ; and, if he will listen to the voice of his father, who for him would gladly rise one_moment from the uve, lot him g0 away,—let him go to the In- ies. * My brother, Charles is an upright snd brave young man. You make a venture for him; he wonld sooner die than not repay the money ou will lend ,—for you will do it, Grandet. If not, you will bring upon your- aclf remorse. Ahl if my child found néither 2id nor affection in you, I should eternally ask God to avenge your harshness. Had I been able tosaye snything, I would have had a right to give it to him, on account of hismother's estate ; out the payments made ab the lose of the month exbeusted el my means. I should have preferred not to have died in doubt con- cerning my child’s fate; I should have iiked to heve felt holy promiscs in the warmth of your hand, which would have re-snimated e but Thave not the time, While Charles is on ily a5 she heard tho first will. gee that & per-- 8aw.a half-obliterated like- |- .in very heavy weather. histoad, I am obliged to make out my & 1 aLtrying to prove, by the good fait $0VEns my transactions, that there ide, error por *dishonesty in my fl.lflll!tmé- that Ligying myself with Charles? ( brothe’ May "all the blessings be _ganted yon for o trust” T “confide’ " yom, and’ I do notdoubt you will accept, Thera ways be &voice " which will pray for ' world to-vhich-we must all gosr~ where I alisady am. ] “V:cTor ANGE GUILLAUME #8oyou ite talking ?” said F." folding the iter with exactness folds, and priting ‘it in his waist Ho looked at his_nephew with - timid sir, beneeth ‘which he hid -and his calculations, . * Have you . selr 2 E . *Yag, my.dear uncle. i %YVell, where are the women ?" forg eifing that :his nephew was . Dght with hifn; . Ab thet Toment ‘Madame Grindet camein. “Isé. up-stairs?” asked he, recovering k “Yes, father. / | ¢ Well, my nephew, if you are will show you to your room. Itis apartment; but you will excuge poc ers who never have a penny, The we Rave.” vl e do not wish to be inconsi . det,” upid the benker, ‘ yon may with your nephew, 80 we wish Jou ing: "I.will see you to-morrow.” | [70 be Continued nezi Sund: g T 'MONSTROUS PARAS The Guinea Worms=-\What w in & Sailor’s Leg: 4 From the Charleston (S. C.) New A short time ago & sailor went Hospital from the British bark G 'was supposed to be snffering fro- The man had been ailing for nez, ‘but none of his ehipmetes sapg. was anything serious the matter * cordingly when, & fow days_ befc to the hospital, he declared t walk about, the Captein of the - was endeavoring to make an exc away from the veseel; that he m ort, the ship-being_ prepared gnya. ‘When removed to the hos, right leg was very much swollen a1 nlf the signa of eyrsipeles, for whic- affection was at first mistaken. At fow days, however, an abscess form- inner side of the ankle, from which, burst, proiruded sbout three in white, “membranous-looking substa an eighth of an inch in diameter. Th. ‘manifestation induced a careful exami the leg, which developed the fact that icted -with .the dracunculus, or worm. This is & horrible perasite, fou along the shores of the Indian_Ocean, &nd certain portions of the. Mediterra. infests damp and muddy soils and imp~ and generally sttacka the feet m but sometimes - other portions ‘body. At time thab . sakes ita native clement for the more habitation of flesh and blood it is scarc than a common fiea ; but, having itgelf beneath the skin, it grows wi rapidity, and will attain s size varyin; inches to six feot ir length, by one- one-eighth of an inch in diameter. It . mant untit it reaches the.sge of maturit which it commences a series of wander? meanderings sbout the . muscles sx’ which cause intense pain to the uns. Tt always travels downwards, and with 50 rapidity thet it will sometimes travel the w" length of the human frame in twenty-four It will sometimes come to- the surface 2 under the skin like a long white cord should the surgeon attempt to extricate the knifs without first securing it with a 1. i will elude his gresp and scamper away the agility of an eel. “If = poriion of the is removed the remaining portion will * but continue as goy and lively as eve symptoms’ of the Guinea o disagreeable itching and irritatior infocted parts.” After ]t bogins to me, its paths are followed by external absces: whenthe paths lie along the stomach, obecesses also. It always nltimatelyer toleave the system-working its.way the ekin generally near the ankle, bu only after it has lefi from ten to nftee behind. The usual number of worms found in one person varies from one There is one case on reeord, however, dying from the effects of the Guinc whose body and skin wére nothing buz work of these horrible creatuves. | rarely results from the ravages of this worr: and when it does it is some disease produced by the lnflzmmation and other effects of the worm's wandering. The Guinea worm does not confice its ravges to man, but will also attack dogs and horses." The sailor in question made. mvayfi:to» the eastun coust of Africa aboat six months 850, and whita there received the parasites into his system. One of the worms has, already bean extracted {from his right leg, but another hes made its ap- ecrance in the left, Hg is doing as well as can. expected under the circumstances. =0y e A Practical Jole. The following story, which is going the round of the French papers, ought to serve a3 a nsefal lesson to . practical . jokers. - Two . diners, wha were unknown to each other, were gitting at tha same table in a restaurant™in” the Place 1t teau dEau. One of them, joking with the mis- tress of the establishment, said, *‘ I must hava eome fresh lobster, otherwise I shall kill you." His neighbor, & young mau sbont twenty-five years of age, then drow from his pocket a small revolver, which he handed to him, saying in fan, “Here is something wWhich il eng- ble yom to- -sccomplish your. crime.” The revolver was examined, and returned o -its owner, who had scarcely time to remark that it was loaded, when, owing to some defect in its constraction, one of.its chambers exploded, for- tunately without injuring any one. A orowd, however, collected outmide the restsurant :ag though some tragedy had -just occurred, the agent of the police came nup, and the unfortunate de!inlnent was carried off. to the Commissary of of Police to give some explanation of the affair. In the meantime, an individual "present, wha had, up to this moment, kept in the background, bat’ had a_perfect knowledge of the herd of the adventure, ran to the lodging of the Iatter, declared to the land- lord” that "a murder had ' been com- mitted by his tenant, and that he himself was an agent of the polico come to make a thorough search of his rooms. The doors were according- 1y thrown o] to him without hesitation ; aud after ho had completed his investigations he re- tired with an air of much dignity. A short tima afterwards the owner of the revolver, wha had ‘been set at liberty by the Comumis of Police, returned home, and, to his astonishment and dis‘fuae, found every drawer and cupboard open and empty, and all his money gone. .The go- called agent of police had managed to get clear off with the money-and®goods to the extent of about 8,000 francs in valus. —_——— Boston Ship Wrecked Near Capa Elorn—Five of the Crew Starved to Death and Seven Missing. From the Boston Journal, Oct. 9. ~ : A letter hag been received in this city from Captain B. F. Robbins, of the ship Golden Find (of Boston), from Ney Yoris Feb. 9, for San - Sandy Bojat, test of Mapolley Aug 17 goring andy Point, Strait of 3 givin, some puficx;hm of the loss of the vessel. . 5 Captain R. states that on the 13th of June, aster having been driven to the eastward of Cape Horn three times %y & succession of westerly gales, he lost his rudder ;-he was enabled to xi & temporary one, which worked quite well excep On the 24th of June, 7 Rfim" the ship~was driven on to & reef named Midday Rocks, about ten miles north of Cape Gloucester, Charles Tsland.” The crew took to three boats, in charga of the Captain-and two mates ;"that in charge'of the second mate and six seamen has not sinca been sgen, and itis supposed that she. swamped that night. The next morning nothing wsaseen - of the ship, she having gons to pieces inthe night. Soon after leaving the ship the Captain’s boat was capsized at night; and the compass and nearly all their provisions and clothing wera lost. They finally landed on s desolate ialand, about sixty miles from Sandy Point, where ‘fiva of thecrew died from starvation, and from which the remainder were fortunately rescued on the 10th of August by the schooner Eagle, of Falkland Islands,” When taken off they were in a very weak state, hnxdg able tostand, but wera safely landed on the 13th of Angust at the point above named, and where their wants were ate tended to, and c'lnthins, food, and medical ate tendance furnished. On the 15th of Angust the United States steamer Ossipee, bound to Rio Janeiro, arrived and took them all on board. —_———————— ) —Why, demands the Musical Worldatmpta young woman who goes to Europe to study sing- ing necessarily become a gnob, and give np name her parents have made respectable? We gfe_t)}at' 88 Jennli&] Armsdflun ;, of wmutfi o, e., is singing in under the name o Yapna Afisi.ugu z enerally the result of ™