Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, December 25, 1872, Page 2

2 A CHRISTHMAS ROSE. From Applelons’ Journal. It was Chrisimas-eve when = pariyof halfs fozen ladies and as many more gentlemen were pesembled in the library of Holly Lodge discuss- Icg the state of the weather in general and of khe roads in particular. There was no snow on the ground—thero rarelyis 2t a Southern Christ- mas—but it had rained steadily fora weelk, and +tho resnlt mey bo imagined by any one who has ever had any scquaintence with o red-clay soil after he has becn subjected to & prolonged and sosking inundaticn. 4 YYe are virtuel priconers! ¥ the young lady of the honse—Hope Beresford—was esying, plaintively. “Our friends on this side of the yiver mey succced in plowing through the youd and reacking us in time for the ball to- pighit; bat we cannot hope for anybody from the other gide, Papa says the river is past ferrying #his morning. |« hich is certinly dispiriting news'when the ouly person one cares to see musf come from }ho other side,” said Roszlind Earle, in herslight- fy-mocking voice. *But take heart, my dear. Jf hio cares to seo you as he should care, he will come, despite the river.” 5 “ But how can he?” aeked Hope, opening her Jarge bluo eyes. Gho did not deny that it was ‘her fiance of whom she was speaking—a young Iawyer living in tho town of X—, distant from Holly Lodgo fificen miles, with & swollen river Petwoen. Roealind laaghed a silvery, unpleasant laugh. 4 fen have done such things before,” she said. Then she added a line from a poem she had been Jetely reading: *Who does not dare the im- possible, hos never dared to love.” “Y om sure I don't believe that,” gaid Hope, irnocently; “ondI should be wretched if I thought Archie would be foolish enough to run the risk of drowning himsclf to prove his love for e, I ehould much prefer that he proved it ¥ taking care of himself and staying quietly in X Rosalind’s lip curled. “I ghould never be wron in that fachion,” she seid. ““A men must omething before I believehim. He must g to brave the worst possible danger— were it even for a caprice of mine.” Woall gazed at her as she said those auda- cicus words. She was never other than beauti- fa] and imposing—this exquisite Bosalind Eerle —but just then she looked superb. I thought I hed never seen her appear to greater advantage 4hen: as she stood etefely and erect by the fire, a in o rich black silk, made with suf- fiicicnt plainness to show the nweep_ing curves of her figure, and her beautiful peir piled on her graceful head. A scar- Jet knot of ribbon at her throst was the ouly poiat of color in her costume, but it seemed £o match the vivid flush on her cheel, and tho baughty sparklo in ber eye. Looking round to seck acanse for these signs of excitement, I found that she bad only = fow minutes before quitted s decp bey-window where Stuart Carew Zat that time her most devoted and_apparently mmost favored Jover—still lingered. I bave writ- ten the word ‘‘lover” advisedly, instead of “suifor” or *‘admirer.” Roealind Earle was a great heirces as well a3 a great beauty; and it followed, of course, that her wealth many saitors, while the number of those who admired her besuty wmight bovs been reckoned by the namber of all who kad ever known her. But Lihera were not a few who loved the brilliant, fascinating woman for her own sake—and of these I am suro that Stuart Carew was one. He came forward now, looking, I thought, a sriflc palo and agitated.’ i Have you ever rend Schiller’s ballad of “The Glove,’ Miss Ruseell? ” he s2id, addressing me. 41 fency that when Cunigunde—wasn't that her nsame ? —threw her glove into the arens, she Tooked somewbet &3 Aliss Esrle looks now.” “ Perhaps ghe felt somewhat as Miss Earle fecls.” sa:d thet young lady, scornfully. Then, aleo turning to me: ‘* Lucy, have you ever rea Browning’s rendition of the samo bullad? Ttis arorth reading, I essuro yon. Cunigundo tells her story in it, and, if my memory does not fail e, molies & complete justification of her seom- g cruelty. Listen, and see if you donot think §0.” She threw beck her head—I cen seo her ow in herproud beauty, with the firelight gleam- ing on a diamond-cross which ehe wore at her slender throat—and ropeated the verses withs apirit and fire I ehall never forget : #To0 Jong had I Lieard Of thedced proved aione by the word : ZFor my love—what De Lorge would not dare! 7. oy scom—vhat De Lorge could compure | £29 e andless desm;:fiofim lox death 3 Fomria oy o frmna e, Doubt his word 3 2t méredver, perforce, For such gifts a8 mo Late st offek my love in rfsans PUDs . e s s - So, wiser I judged it to make One trial what *death for my sake’ Really mesnt, while tho power was et mine, Than to wait until imo snould define Sach & phrese not 50 imply as I, Who took it tomean just 1o die’” 1t did not need the glance—half mocking, half hsughty—which she gave Stuart Carew at the laz “15vedocks.” People, who did not like Stusrt Carew, mostly called bim an “affected puppy;” but I alwcys Liad liked him—perhaps, because I had a enflicient sense of justico to see that his somerhat effeminate cast of good looks was, to gay the least of it, not bhis fault; and also be- cease I izd good resson to kmow that, under- resth his unquestionable affectation, was, still more unguestionably, o very frank and noble na~ ture—so I Jels sorry for him 2s Ieaw how Rosalind's taunts_were etinging him. Ikoew, 200, that Lo felt them the more, becanse he occupicd the worst position that a man can occupy toward a weman—that of & feeming for- trpe-bunter. Like Ceeario, his station was above Lis fortune, and, proud gentleman though o was, b was well awaro that many people— Derhape even the heiress herself—regarded him %6 ono of the many euitors for her wealth. The position hiad often galled him—7Zhad seen that— but I dor’t think it ever gelled him as it did that yoorning. Locking a$ him, T saw a sudden flash of resolve come into the handsome face that aled uneccountably. - I did not think that you were in earnest be- fore,” he £2id, stepping close to Rosalind, and Epeaking 80 10w thut only I—wko chanced to be npexi ler—heerd the words. ‘‘ Aow I see that ~vou are, and I ehall not eoderlie your challenge. Since you put it on thia ground, since you wish e to prove by tlis means Low much I would daze for your eske, I shall bring you a rose from. . evening.” ed, mde; as I glanced quickly around, grew elightly palo. Yot ehe -‘You aro e trifle melodramatic, Mr. Carew,” she eaid. “I should not care for you to take eay trouble, or”—I cannot oxprees the scorn- fal, sercastic accent hera—* incur any danger for the sake of any caprico of mine. [bis true that I shonld liko & rcse from my greenhouse fo wear in my heir to-night—it 18 & fancy of mioe zlways to wear a fresh rose at Christmes— but” (ehragging her shoulders) ** I can surely ke a8 philosophical about that disappointment e Hope ia about the absence of her lover.” Iz sheil not be e disappointment,” Stuart «If I return to Holly Lodgo this evening, 1be with the rose for your hair.” en be turned and left the room. A3 I have zlready rcmarkedi nobody hed heard (L3 by-play bat myself, and I looked at Rose- lind now and asked—I fearin no gentle tone— what it meant. ks Shelanghed agein, but this time I thought tho £of ripple had a nervous, uncertain sound. “Xot very much, Lucy,” she snid. *Come into the window yonder and I will tell you.” Bhe indiczted tho hag-\rindow which she had quitted a fewminutes before, and thither I ac- companied ber. . G ATell,” eaid T, when we sat_down, “if you il bs 56 kind, T #hould like to know ‘what has £t you to playing Cunigunde like this! You 1alk about her defence hg%l?; ood. I don't call it good. How do you think she would have felb if the lion hiad killed Do Lorge ? How will you fecl if Stuert Carew is drowned in this_precions xd on which you have sent him ? on my 1 think De Lorgo and King Francis were cuite right. It is vamty, not love, which sets such teste.” . ¢ You have no independence of thought what- ever, Lucy Busgell,” was her somewhat con- temptuous reply. * You say and - think exactly what eversybedy else e2ys and thinks; and, in +his_matter, you ere ail wrong, and Browning and I zre right. It wes neither yanity nor love ‘hich set the test.” 3 i ‘lcf} sou can possibly condescend to enlighten theignorantworld in general, what was it, then?” ;skegnl, Lecoming contemptuous in furn. ¢ Tho heroing of the story has told you better than I can do,” she answered, s little impa- tiently. *‘ Can you not see—do you not under- stand—the feeling which made her snxious to have some praciical test of the value of many protestations? Ah! I tell yon— ¢ To know wwhat one has ot to trust to, Is wortn all tho ashes and dust, too,” ;hitch may be brought into one’s face by the .7 ““ Bearcely worth a human life, I should say,” I remarked, dryly. Bhe shrugged her shoulders. “Was the -Wye ever known to drown any- body ?" ghe asked. “Btuart Carew would do as much for bravado any day; 2nd, if he hes any- thing like true mettle, he will f—— scarce think that yon do him the worst turn It you Wl’l'.(,aper, # Friend, what you'd get, first earn or, if he does, it would certainly be well to know it—in time. Afen donot, as a rule, grow more complaisant after they are made secure of what they desire.” ¢ Rosalind Earle, you are_ a sclfish, heartless coquette,” said I, irritated beyond all petience, ¢« And pray, will you be kind enough to tell me ho;v, you expect Stuar Carew to cross the riv- “That js his offair,” she seid, coolly. I told you Jast night—did I not tell yon?—what s longing I bad for one of the Iovely Provence roses which I kmew that Jefferson ™ (this was ber gardener) ‘‘has blowing just now. BSo, when Stuart Carew asked me, rather sentiment- ally, half an hour ago, what Christmas-present ho should give me, I—bearing in mind the wild story he told at dinner yesterday of how he once croesed and recrossed ‘& mountain-flood in the Andes, for & canteen of brandy which had been Ieft behind—I thought (presumptuonsly enough, 1o doubt) that perhaps I was ss well wortha risk 88 a canteen of brandy; and Isaid thatI would take & rcse from my greenhouss in X—. Of course, the gentlemsn was somewhat aston- ighed—incredulous of my being in earnest ab first, indignant afterward. He took the liberty of hinting what you have been good enough to express.openly that I was & vain and heartless coguette. Whereupon, I took the lib- erty of telling him that he was very impertinent, and farthermore”—her color rose and her eyes sparkled here—¢‘that I was not aware that thero was more than one thing in thoe world ‘Which & man expected to obtain without earning, and this was a woman's love.” #0, Rosalind!” «Well, is it not trus?" she asked, sharply. “ Are we not forced—we women—to take_every- thing on trust? A man professes—what does he not profess >—but if we £et him even the least task whereby he can prove his sincerity, is thero not an outery of indignant protest? We are heartless, vain, sinful—Heaven only knows what not—beczuse we do not choose to surrender our- selves without a warrant that we are gaining somelhing in return.” “Taithis s gond thing, Rosalind,” said I “That may do for sentimental schoolgirls, who have never yet appreciated that tho vast majori- ty of men think that women ‘would rather live o lies, 80 they be sweet,’” she answered, scorn- fully. {7 have had a surfeit of them in my time, waver.” “'Nof, from Stuart Carew,” saidT, impetuously. “What do you know of Stuart Carow?” she demanded. ‘““‘You know thathe has the bluest of blue blood in his veins, that he is handsome and graceful, high-bred and chivalrous, above the msjority of men; but you do nof know that he may not™ be as mercenary at heart as Harley Wynne, who married that rich, vulgar idiot in ‘X—— the other day.” “Roealind, for shame!” X cried. “You dgn't know what it is to be & very rich woman, Licy,” she said, with a pathetic accent in her voice. “You don't know how one sees 80 much meguness that it forces suspicion on one atlast. People saythat I am heartless and i:;ual, Put I—I have had some hard lessons to arn.” Tooking ot her that moment—seeing the clond which swept over her beautiful face—I could be- lieve it, and I felt then what I have felt often Yeince, that the fate which gives 8 woman great wealth is raraly a kind one. Tt was soon after this thst Stuart Carew ro- entered the room. Ro was fully equipped for riding, having exchanged his velvet coat for & suit of gray tweed, which was not_half so be- coming, and high beots which had somehow & suggestive fox-hunting air. He came in with whip and gloves in hand, gay cnd insouciant 8S ever. *Ladies, have {ou any commsnds for X—?"" be asked, in his pleasant, musical voice. ‘Any letters fo mail, and gloves to buy, anything which & singlo horseman can fake or bring with- out overloeding himself and steed, and rendor- ing desth in s quagmire inevitablo to both ?— Miss Hope, if you can write a note in five min- utes, I will deliver it to Maynard with pleasure,” 0 3Mr. Carew!” cried Hope, astonished anda little aghast. * You—yon surely are_jesting! é’:u?uu ‘Dot really thinking of going to X—— to- oy ¢ That js exactly what he is thinking of,” eaid Hal Bereford, who had followed BStnartinto the Teom. “ And he is thinking of getting drowned in the Wye, too, or I am no judge of a water- course, Confound the fellow! Can’tsome of you ladies say something to bring him to his Benses ?” Beveral tried—I among the rest—though I saw inhis face it would be unavsiling. Rosalind was still gitting in the bay-window with & book in her hend, from which she did not look up until Hal Baresford directly appealed to her. * Can you say nothing, Miss Earle 7" ho asked, bm-ua.“ T have rarely known a mora rackless adventuse than this on which Staart is bent.” Then Rosailua glanced up, the same flush on her cheelk and light in Lier eyo which had been there when the subject was first broached. e all listened eagerly to hear what sho would say, and I, for my part, conld not avoid giving her an imploring glance which I might 28 well have be- stowed on the picture over my head. “Is it a more reckless adventure than that in the Andes, of which wo heard yesterday ?” she asked, in her clear voice. I could not do Mr. Carew such an injustice as to suppose that he would not risk quite 85 much to carry the notes and bring the gloves of a dozen imprison~ od ladies, s to recovar a canteon of brandy.” Poor Stuart; I caught one glimpse of his face a8 ho recelved this truly feminine thanks for the risk he was sbout torun. Its expression 'was & curious mixtare of bewilderment and mor- tification, for thera are few thingsmore mortify- ing to a man who fancies he knows women, than to receive unequivoeal proof of having committed a great blunder in feminine tactics. After a min- ate, he crossed theroom toher side. Idid nothear then, but T heard afterward, what passed between them, while the rest of us shrugged our shoul- ders #sida to each other, and & young lady, who was looking over a book of engravings in & cor- ner, confided to & gentleman who Was assistin ber, tkat Rogsalind Earle was the most shamefi fiirt ghe had ever knovn. “¢What do you mean by talking in this way ?"" Btuart Cerew was meanwhile saying to Rogalind. “You kmow that Iam going to =— for you— for x’nn alone—and what have a dozen or a hun- dred other women to do with the matter #”” 7 thought I heard oo plecing yourself at general disposal,” Rosalind answered, carelessly. *If you brought my rose, it would be quite as if it was delivored by the penny post, with half a dozen notes and gloves—and flowers, perhaps— besides. Many thanks, Mr. Carew,’—looking up st him with her Iustrous, mocking eyes,— “%m Ism notso humbleas Ishould be, per- haps, for I rarely care to be ¢ one of a multitude’ in anything.” The younfinmun ebsolutely blushed—many people who knew Btuert Carew would scarcely Credit it—but he absolutely blushod, realizing afresh tho blunder he had made. There aro some women who are willing to accept a divided empire; there aro others again (mostly women who haye known much homage), Wwho ecorn any- thing which is not wholly their own. Was it her fault, or the fault of the circumstances in which she had been reared, that Rosalicd was one of the latter? T will take nothing, I will bring nothing for anybody but yms" he said, quickly. ““And if I brindg what you desire, may I name my owm re- ward?” “#Isarose such o wonderful trophy, then,” asked she, quietly—but he felt the sarcasm un- derlying her tone—*‘ or has the deed moro ‘ der- ring do’ in it then Y imagine.” ¢No,” said he, flushing. “‘A rose—from your green-house, 00,—is a very poor trophy; and Crossing a slightly swollen river to plongh through fifteen miles of mud, has precious little éderring-do” init. But tho poor tropby and the commonplaco deed are, nevertheless, all that 1 have to offer for your istmas ;;ufidcation." 1 think thet something in the tone of those last words—something in the srond, pained look of the high-bred face—suddeuly touched the capricious, wayward heart of the woman whom he addressed. - But ehe did not showit,savo ina certain softening of her voice. “1 Bhn.ll‘afipreciu.te both,” she said, almost as a queen might have spoken—ill-natured people weroe very gevere on Rosalind’s affectation at all. ¢ you bring me the rose, I ehould be very un- gratetal if I did not let you say what Christmas- §ift T should give you in return.” “You tempt me with a great liberty,” he slonate eyes. But she drew herself up coldly. I do not bind myself to grant an unreasona- ble request,” ehe said. “To ask is one thing; to receive, another.” “T sm well aware of the distinction,” he angwered, quietly. Then he looked at her again with & glance which sho did not quite under- answered, looking at her with eloquent, pas- | stand. 8o my roward will be simply to ask!” hesaid. “ Thanks for your generosity, Miss Earle. Perhaps I may putit to the test. For the present, however, I must bid_you adieu if T am to bring to your rose in time for the ball to- nig}xt." - @ bowed without shaking hands—I noticed that—then made bis adieux to the rest of us, and lefi the room. Several of the gentlemen followed him, end & few minutes afterward wo saw him riding toward theriver, attended by quite a cavalcade anxious to see him zcross. _This river—I should heve szid before—was distant not more than a quarter of 2 mile from the meige, the road whichran past Colonel Beres- ford's gates leading directly down to o well- known forry. The stream had been more or less swollen for several days, but' this morning it had been reported especinlly Ligh, and quite ““ past forrying.” How Stuart Carew possibly expected to transport himself and his borse to the other side was a problem which we, Whewero lett behind, sst our wits' vainly to workto solve. That we did not succeed in solving it may readily be imagined—just as it may also bo im- agined that Rogalind took no part in our wild conjectures and nervous alarms. Sho eat per- foctly still—reading with_a composure which I longed to test by placing my finger on her pulse—too proud ‘to leave the room, lest wo should suspect that she was keeping fartive watch to see if that graceful horseman would ride up the bank on tho other side of tho stream, After a tims, our anxiety was get ab rest. He for whom we were esgerly looking— with little or no hope of seeing—absolutely ap- Ees.red and rode up the bank in question. When o gained 2 crest which commanded the Lodge, he took off his hat and waved it in triumph. We threw up the windows and answered by s dozen fluttering handkerchiefs. After this dis- play of sympathy subsided, he soberly set forth on big way—it was & very sobor mode of pro- fi:fleexinu which the mud compelled—while - we wered the windows, shivered, and looked at each other. * How on earth do you suppose he did it ?” we asked, but mnobody could ~answer; and it was not until the party of gentlemen re- turned—muddy but enthusiastic—that we heard. He had swum his horse—a famouas and power- ful thoroughbred, of whose prowess wo had heard many tales from others besides Stuart— across the swollen, rushing stream. It was lit- tle short of 8 miracle that horse and rider ever Lept afloat, thoze who had witnessed the reck- less adventure declared—and then they would break off to dilate again and yet ng:\in upon the marvellous power and sagacity of the horse, and the equally marvellous skill of the rider, whose coolness had never forgaken him for a moment, not_even when the breathless gazers on the bank were sure thai the terrible force of tho current could nover be successfully breasted by the bold swimmers. Nobody approved, but overybody ndmired tho feaf, except Colonel Beresford, who could not be drawn into & single oxpression of commendstion. I thought better things of Stuart Carew,” hesaid. *‘Itwasa dare-devil exploit which smved Teithor sense nor courage. ~Some men 0 such things for notoriety; but they are most- 1y men who can neverhops £o win notoriety inany other form, and I cortsinly did not think that Stuart had any ambition in that direction. I2m sure I hope that nobody was so foolish or 80 im- prudent a8 to encourage him in snch an under- taking,” ho added, glancing round tho circle with his keen brown cyes. There was a profound silence in response to this appeal. If Lo had esked the question in private, no doubt there would have been plenty of people to tell the story of that Christmes roso which was to boplucked in Rosaliud Earle's greonhouse ; but, o3 it was, nobody felt inclined to tako upon himself the ignominy of playing the part of informer in public. “Y bope,” pursued the Colonel, rendered o littlo suspicious by this silence, ¢ that nobody gave him even the passive encouragement of a note or & messago to eny one in X——. Inmy opinion"—the handsome, genial old gentleman Xnitted his brows emphatically—*it would have been oxceedingly wrong to do g ““Don't look £t me, paps,” 53id Hope, smiling, ¢ T 3id not send any note by Mr. Carew, for the very good reason that ho did not wait for it. He'told me to write ono and hewould take it ; but, befors I had said moro than ‘Dear Archie,’ he was gone. - 30 much the better,” seid the Colonel, un- feelingly. *You had Do business o give oven fhat much sanction to such a reckless piece of folly. Can anybody tell me what bo wenb for, anyway ?" ho added, in sn irritated tone. T'o my surprise—] think to the surprise of overy one—Rosalind Earle quictly answered this question, 4 7Ir. Carew went for me, my dear Colonel,” che said. * He was good ¢noughto go for a roso which I wanted to wear Inmy hair to- night.” o cool sudacity of this reply struck the Colonel dumb, I think. He certainly stared at the speaker for a full minute, ss if he could not crodit what she asserted, ;i “ He went for what ? " he asked after a while. # A rose,” answered Rosalind, with the same perfect nonchalanco. ** You do not give them a place in your greenhouse, you know," sheadded, emiling. u“ ngn—you let that young fool risk his lifo for a rose to wear in your hair? " said tho Col- onel, quite overcome, “ And do you mean that e is going to be mad enough to try and come ‘back as he went ?” She shragged her shoulders. “Ho has pledged his word—I won't pretend to say whet it is worth—that I ehall have the roso in'time for the ball to-night.” “Very well, then,” said Colonel Beresford, grimly, *‘you had better set to work and say Eome prayers for him, since I pledge you my word that he will not cross that river again fo- dsy. The gentleman who witnessed this fent can tell you that it was a very close thing in broad daylight, and when his horse was perfect~ ly fresh.” You are a woman, and don't know ‘much of dsnger ; but I suppoze you can imagino what the same effort will be when his horse is fagged out—nothing does fag & horse like plod- ding throngh heavy mud—and night has fallen ™ e inay get enother horso,” somebody sug- gested, for Rosalind was quitd silont pnd still, “There is not snother horse in the country thet could or would do such & thing,” tho Colo- nel answered. Then he turned 2nd left the Toom, muttering, a8 Le weat, something quite audible about “ heartleea vanity” and f*infatu- ated folly.” The rest of the day was rather an uncomforta- Blo one to everybody in the Lodge. With the most of us, Stuart Carew was o great favorite, and we could not rid ourselves of a weight—a pense a8 of something terrible—impending over us. We confided it to each otherin corners, and I shall never forget how Hal Beresford expressed himself over the library fire, where we set to- gether, s the short December afternoon was Waning into ovening. . Don't talk to me of her feelings or of her beart,” he said, almost fiercely, 2sI mado some feevle plea of extenuation for Rosalind. “I could believe in the feelings or in tho heart of my boots much sooner! ~ Whet sho said to Stuart, God only knows, but the minute I looked at his face I saw that be was set like a rock to g0, if twenty floods had been betwoen! Thero are some infatuations that I can understand, ond gome that I cannot,” he pursued. * This is one of thelatter. There nevor was o man bet- ter fitted to succeed with women than Stuart Carow, and why he should set his fancyona woman—let hor becuty and her wealth be what they may—who Las such s devil of prido and vanity a3 Roealind Earle, I cannot comprehend.” “Devils are sometimes tamed,” said I. “They aro never worth taming, in my opinion,” hé rejoined. But I thought differently—I thought that there wero very grscimm possibilitics of woman- ly sweetness in Rosaling, if she could once find the hand to bring them forth, This was the diffieulty, however—a very grave difiiculty al- ways with_women of ber stamp—and ona that might reedily prove insurmountable. I could ot help feeling sorry for her, howover, when I wenv up stairs,-in the winter dusk, and found hor preing to and fro in the room we shared tagctfior. As I came in, she gat down by the fire—evidently voxed that I should haveseen hor_anvioty—but before long Ler restlessness again assorted itself. She rose and walked to ono of the windows which overlooked tho gar- den, the low-ground fields beyond, and the swollen, rushing river—turbid as the Mississippi —clearly visible through the leafless trees which fringed its banks. “Imey," sho said, coming back agein after o minute, **do you really thiuk he will do i6?” I really think ho will 47y to Goit,” Irnswered, bluntly, “Whotever clse he maylack, Stusrt Carew does not lack courage, and you put him on his mettlo this morning.! e “I wish my tongue had been cut outl” said she, passionately. : ‘‘Rather late to wish that now,” Irejoined, shrugging my shoulders. “Jtisnot thetI care anything about Btuart Cerew,” she explained; “but it would not be pleasant fo have a man's death on one's con- gcience.” “Not very, I should think.” > **A roee would scarcely be'worth fat price.” #Scarcely, I think.” g # Are you trsin§ to imitate me_that you echo every word I eay?” she demanded, impatiently. “TFor shame, Lucy Rusgell]” g < 4T naid ‘for shame’ this morning, Rosslind,” I remarked, coldly, “but it did ot deter you from that which you are regrotting now.” She did not snswerfor a minute. Angryas I waa With her, I could not help adml.rif:g her, &8 | even though we may not she stood before me in the glowing firelight, her graceful, stately figure slightly bent forward, as .she lepned her arme on the low mantel and looked steadfestly into the fire, with her deli- cate lips comg:xessad and her dark eyebrows knitted. Suddenly she threw back her bead with 2 haughty gesture I Lnew well. it 1 she said, % Lucy,” ehe eaid, inh *“Lucy,” she said, in her quick, imperious way, “will you go with mo downto the river. I must see tho ferryman at once.” ““See_the ferryman!” I repeated in amaze- erit. *‘For what 7" _“Can’t you tell for what?”_ sho asked, imps- tienily. DMoney does overything in this world, and for money I may be able to send a boat across the river and tell Btuart Carew not to crogs.” “ Then you do care for him, after all!” cried fi :ngafly, forgetting everything else for a mo- b, But the proud, repellant look which csme over her face undeceived me. ““Is there any one for whom I should nof care sufficiently to keep him from throwing awsy his life for a ‘mere caprico of mine?” she ssked, coldly, T shall see that he builds no false hopes on what I am about to do,—what I would do as rcnth}’y for Hel Beresford or old Jake the ferry~ man. s *‘Indeed!” said I; and, having no other mesns of expression at my command, I threw s much sarcastio incredulity into that interjection asI possibly could, I said nothing .more while she opened her writing-desk and dashed off a note. I did not see it, but I judged its tenor from the haughty, flushed face that bent over it. * She is taking the wrong tone with the wrong man,” I thought, watching her. ¢ Mischief—more mischief—is going to come of this, as sure as two and two make four " ‘When the note was finished, she brought forth & water-proof from the wardrobe. ‘' Are you coming, or are younot, Lucy?"” she demanded, es she put this on, after having pinned up her sweeping silken ekiit. T might s vl soo the comedy ot tho trag- edy—whichever it is to be—to the'end,” said I, as I rose and likewise brought forth s water- proof. Water-proofs are certainly the convenient dominoes of the nineteenth century. Every woman leoks alike in them, and, however Rosalind felt, I am sure I Ielt smazingly like & congpirator 28 we made our stealthy way down “Tlldo aloud, and then she turned to . the back slnjmag and out of the side-door of the Lqiga. *‘ Nobody will miss us,” my companion sai “They are all too busy srepuing for the ball. Besides, I have warned Adeline” (this was her maid) ¢ to keep our door locked.” ‘We wént through the garden, and thenco fol- Iowed a path across the fields—why we did not mire outright, I have never to this day been sblo to imagine—to the cabin of old Jake, the ferry- man, which we reached in & condition of mud impossible to deecribe. Although it was Christmes-eve—the season of special negro jollity—we found tho ferryman st hiome, sitting on & stool by the fire, crooning to himself and mending some fishing-nets. Ho ‘bore rather a surly character with his fellows, and was no great fayorite among them. Indeed, tho manner in which ho turned sharply, almosh angrily, saying, **Who's dar ?’ when Rosalind p:xsbed open the door, was proof sufficient of this. 4Tt ia T, Jako,” che answered. speak toyou.” ~ | ) 3 “ Beg pardon, mistis,” paid Jake, rising with an air which was still a little surly. “I thought it was some o' dem meddlin’ niggers comin’ a’ter me, and I done tolo ’em I don’t want not’in’ to do wid dem nor der Christmas nudder! " “You would liko to bave something to do with meling some money, though, wouldn't you? " enid Rosalind, coming forward into the full glow of the firelight and throwing back her hood. ¢ Perhaps you would rather he making money than spending it theso Christmas-times,” she added, significantly. % He 'looked at her with a guick glance out of his small, deep-set oyes. It was evident at once that *‘money” was ss much & talisman to llnm 29 t0 many far above him in the social scale. “We don't none of us—nigger or white folks—mind meking money, mistis',” ho said. “1 likes it as well as anybody when it's honest and eafe.” B : ¢ What I have come to proposs is cortainly honest, though it may not be safe,” exid Rosa- lind, in her quick, ringing voice. = “In_& few words—for there is no time to be wasted—how much will you take to cross the river for me this ovening? ~ Name your own price, and whatever ibis T will pay it.” He did not exhibit any surprise at the propos- al, but only shook his head iu g stolid, dtfid léind of way, 88 if he hed heard the same thing efore. “Tho river's too high for crossin’, mistis’,” he eaid. “I tole your gal that when you sont, her on the same arrant but a little while ago.” “ don’t beliove that the river is too high for crossing by a man who knows all about it,” Rosa- lind answored. “ The servants at tho Lodge say that you crossed it once in a canoo when it wes quite aghigh as it is now."” %My vwife was o-dyin’ on the t'other eide, ‘mistis’,”" he angwered, quietly. “YVhat you have done once you can do again,” she said, imgarinn.e]y. ‘ Once more, name your own prica; I will payany thing; but timo is paseing, end it is growing darker every minuto.” “Y can't do it, mistig’,” he said sullenly. *‘ My life is a8 precious to me as yourn is to you, and ‘money wouldn't do me no good after I kad flung it away.” “But moneyis worth a risk,” said she ad- vancing & step nearer to him with glowin, cheoks and glittozing eyes. “ Money 8 wor a risk " she repeated, ina tone T shall never forget. Then sne extended her delicate, whito hand and touched the ragged linsey jacket ho woro. ** Do you know that i'ou could replace this with warm and comfortabla clothes, that you could buy & house of your own, and land to cul- tivate, with whst I offer you?” she asked. “ And you will let this chance—this ore chanco —this one chance in your life—elip from you be- cause you are afraid o take a canoo across thet river {o-night ? ¥ His eyes sank beneath tho glitter of hers, he shuflled lus feot uncasily, bis hands twisted a park of tho fishing-not, which he still held, ner- vously to and fro. The temptation was tellin on him. I, standing in the background—I, watching the scene with a feeling almost akin to horror, I plainly saw that. 4 How much would you be willin’ far to give, ;m'sli?" ?" ho ssked, slowly and buskily, af longth. ¢ How much would you be willing to take ?” asked Rosalind. in reply. *Value_your own life, man, and be quick abouwt it! Ishall not haggle oyer your price.” “Would you give—a hundred dollars?"” he demanded, in & sort of hushed tone, as_if the magnitude of the sum could only be spoken in & whisper. But his lsce_—esgar]{ expectant when he asked the question—fell suddenly, as Rosalind laughed in an unmirthful way. “A hundred dollars!” she repeated. “Do you think I would ask any man to risk hig life- Tor me for that ? I will give you five times tho sum~—five hundred dollars down—if you will take a note scross the river and deliver it to Mr. Carew—the ‘gentleman who swam the stream this morning—when he comes back.” 11l go, mistis’,” he said, and it was strange —nay, it was awful—to see how hia wholo faco Tighiol up with feverish eagorness, hov its very muscles seemed working and twitching wi overmastering desire to seizo the golden prize thus offered him. He took the noteshe gave, and, buttoning up his_jacket, was leaving the, cabin when & sudden thonght eeomed to striko’ him, and he turned back. 17 it's only the note you want give to the §enflomln, mistis’,” he said, “I meedn't be 'bliged fur to come back to-night ?” “si‘{o ** answered Roealind, **yon need not be obliged to come back. If you reach the other pide and deliver the note to Mr. Carew, you can stay there as long as you like.” & And the money, mistis’ ?" 2 «Tl] pay the money—my friend here will wWit- pess the“ agreement—as soon as I can go to “I want to ¢ Then I shan't come back till the river falls,” he said. “*Will you please lock my door when you come out, aud give the key to Isaac—he's Iny cousin—up t'big honso?” - ¥ Tosalind promised to execute this commis- sion, and then went out, we following him as far 28 the door. Never shall I cease to remember— s one remembers a strange, vivid picture—the appearance of that winter evening; the deso- late, marshy low-grounds around us; the last leams of winter twilight dying nwey on _the are, brown hills across the river; tho band of pale, yellow light encircling the horizon, a few distant pines standing relieved against it; the turbid, swolen stream before us, and the short, thick-set figure of the negro making his way as quickly as tho mud would allow toward the river, #Rosalind,” szid I, ““it is an awful thing fo tempt anybody 88 you bave tempted that poor wrotch to cast away his life.” + Ha will not cast away his life,” she answered. ¢“He can cross the river. Iknewall the timo that he could do it, and that he was only holding back for & higher price.” “T don't think 80.” 1 know go.” 5 I shrugged my shoulders, Iknew thatitisa patisfaction to deny an unpleasant responsibility, oive cven ogrselves, | THE CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE: WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 95 1872. In that caso, gou bave cortaialy pald bigh for your rose,” said I, dryly. A ¥ 4 For not getting it,” said she, emiling bitter- ly. AndthenIkpew that her failure in this particular irked her pride not a little. ““If Stuart Carew takes her 2t her word, and stays across the river, she will never forgive him,” I thought. ThenIasked zloud, * Where is Jake now 2" “Down at tke river,” she answered. - #We cennoteee him from here ; but if we go tothe top of the bank yondsr, we can watch him across.” ¢ If he ever gets across,” eaid I, grimly. “I tell you frankly, Rosalind, that this adventure isnot at all to my liking. Idid not bargain to see 2 man drowned when I came out.” ““8tay where you are, then,” she eaid, quietly, “but I'am going to the bank.” “Tghall come, too, in that case. ButI pro- test against the wholo procesding.” She made a gesture a8 significant a3 if she had said outright, * What does that matter 7—it is none of your affair.” Then we set forth to the river—meking our way along the top of one of the banks which overhung the road as if led dovn to the ferry. The scone wag certainly a wild ono a8 we sur- veyed it from the ominence which we gained after a time, We appreciated the force of the carrent Letter now that we stood just aboveit; and in the despening shades of twilight, the boatin which Jake had pushed oat from the shore, looked like the merest cockle-shell on the Drenst of tho stream. As we gazed, it wascaught in an eddy, and whirled zround suddenly like a leaf. “ Hecannever do it—never!” I cried. ¢ You will see him carried down the stream be- fore your eyes, Rosalind Earle | Bhe did not answer—I fancy she scarcely heard me. Looking at her, I could see that sho felt her responsibility then as strongly as I could desire. Even at that moment—with & human life trembling in the balance below us, I could not help thinking what s study for o painter she would have made standing in the midst of the winter landscape, her long, black clozk draping her figure, her hood falling back on her shoulders, and her white set fice, with its dark, pasgionate eyes gazing over the swollen flood to the struggling boat now fighting the force of the current in mid-stream. It was s very snlllnb fight which Jake was making, If Ihad ever doubted his skill or his nerve, I should have believed in both after that evening. Certainly, he knew every eddy snd swirl of the stream on which he was launched, and certainly, also, he made good use of that knowledge. Never have I seen n boat more deftly managed ; never have I witnessed a more sbsorbing or exciting ecene! It was the sharp tension of hope and enxiety—of elation one moment, and despsir the next, which kept our oyes and atfention riveted on him a8 if we had been magnetized. Oce second, all would seem lost; yet, before we could realize the horror which came over us, our hearts would give & wild leap into our very throats, for it was as if nsh‘onf grasp had seized the little oratt, and stemmed her mad career down-stream. It was a fierce airugjle, and one in which thoe forces were so unequal that it was a good thing it was short—else the end could only bave beer that which we feared. The river was not wide b its widest, however, and here it was comparatively parrow. Yet, short as the distance was, Jake could not hsve been an in- coneiderable time {n making the passage. Night ‘’had cortainly come upon us while wo looked, and we could barely distinguish the outline of his figure whon he at last gained tho bank far bo- low the landing-place at which he had aimed. Then Roealind andI turned to each other with that quick sigh of relief which i8 80 significant of ended anxioty. “Thaok God!™ she snid. “He has done it,” I eaid; “but it was acloso thing.” «Horribly £0,” she answered, shuddering. Then in a lower tone, * How should I ever have forgiven myself if he had been drowned?” I did not discuss this_question. It was dark, and wo wero cold and muddy. I waked tos Imowledga of theso things, now that our adven- turous forryman was eafe, and suggested. to tho young lady who had risked two lives, and given five hundred dollars not to %et o roso, that we should retrace our stops. * If we.can,” she an- swered. And we set to work to try. Shall I ever forget that trying ? The pathup the bank, and through its tangled undergrowth, had not boen easy in the gloaming ; now it might have been bewitched, o difticult did we find it. Wo stumbled into mud-holes; we stumbled over briers; we received blows in the faco from the limbs of trees; we ripped up over their Toots; we lost our bearings, and wandored into logs, and fence-corners; we found rails as aggressive as limbs (my shoulder was almost dislocated by running fall tilt ageinst one); wo scratched our hands; we tors our dresses ; we expended our breath; and finally wo reached our objectivo point—Jake's cabin —in a condition of exhaustion which was truly pitizble. “1f thero were twenty balls in progress, I must rest for a while,” Rosulind eaid, sinking down by tho still glowing fire. ¢ O Lucy, Lucy, what a Christmas-eve!"” “Thank iou.rself for it,” said I grimly—nowige moved to charity by the aspect of imy boots and dress. “‘This 18 what comos of your playin, Cunigunde. I hope that you are satisfied wil the experiment.” i g Bhe taughed. The weight of anxiety being re- moved, her spirits evidently mounted up like juicksilver. Kneeling on the rude cabin-hearth, g the mud on her drees, and stanching the blood on her torn hands, she began to look like herself. “ have fared worse than Cunigunde,” she gaid. “‘The blow a glove gives is_but weak,’ Dbut we can scarcely say that of the blows which trees and brambles give—do you think 8o 7" = ‘;fl:a recovered her glove, too,” said I, mali- ciously. The wonld-be Cunigunde's face fell & little. « And I havo not received my trophy,” she said. “ How they will tallc and exult over it at the Lodge—will not they? Don't you hate to gnm'{ ‘meddling, malicions people? ~ I confess I do} confess I would give anything for & rose to wear in my bair to-night. But, then, one ought to please one's friends occasionally, and this is s cheap & way a8 any other, I suppoge. Tho game was hardly worth the candle after all.” «There is no doubt of that,” eaid I, kneeling by hor. From kneeling, wo both gank down to a sitting posture, like o couple of tailors or s couplo of Turks, *Jake's fire wos comfortable—very- com- fortable—and, after our experience at the river- side, we shrank from the dark passsge of the muddy fields. Of conrse, it had to be made sooner or later; but we delayed it, a8 human na- tarewill delay anything particularly disagreeable. We dried ourselves, and gossipedat our leisure— until, st last, I waked with a start to a knowledge how fimo was passing. * Rosalind, this really will not do!” said I “There will be a perfect alarm about us at the Lodge, and a garty of rescuers getting forth with lanterns and fire-arms, if wo don't go back.” - “T,etus wait for them, then,” said ghe, in- dolently. **The lanterns will be especially ao- cephb 6. " You forget the ball.” 41 ghould be very glad to forget it,” she re- joined, curtly. T tried argument and persuasion, but she was immovable ; and, after a timé, I walked indig- nantly to the door. ) “T must go by myself, if you will not come,” I said.” “I positively cannot stay here any longer.” % Veory well,” ghe answered, coldly. ¢ Tell anybody who asks for me that I am waiting for my rose.” “You think I am not in eernest,” Ibegan, half vexed. But, at that moment, the door at ‘hich I was standing was suddenly pushed open from the outside, and, before I could make any resistance—that 1s, before I could draw the bolt which would have kept it shut—a man walked into the dimly-lighted cabin., I was a little startled by such an unexpected incursion, and I said, “ What do you want?” in a tone which, togethor with the opening door, made Rosalind spring to her feet and turn round. “Who is that?” sho asked, imperiously—the fire was too low to do more than observe the out- lines of the figure which had entered—*‘if you ‘want to see the ferryman, he is not here.” I haye already seen him, Mies Earle,” a quiet Yoice, which we both knew.well, replicd. ¥, ]Gflud Henvens |” Ieried. ““Itis Stuart Ca- rew!® He turned his face foward mo, and, the light flickering up 8t the moment, I saw that ho was emiling faintly at my amazement. ““Yes, it is Stuart Carew—at your service, Miss Russell,” he answered. I glanced involuntarily at Rosalind. It was evident that she was thunderstruck by this sud- den appearance of the man, whom she had made 850 great an effort to keep away. For a moment, she was quite still ; then she made a step for- ward, almost angrily. * How did you come hera ? ” she asked, im- periously. * How did you cross tho river? Is this the thanks you give me for the warning I sent to you ? " “ Your warning came too late,” he answered, coldly. “You might have known me wel enough to know that, if I had once brought your ro8@ to the other gide of the river, I was scarce- Iy likely to stop there. You might have done me_the justice to believe that, what I Liad once undertaken, I would fulfil at any cost, aftor such words 25 yours this morning.’ He_ spoke groudl , 88 well as ocoldly—Bo proudly that, I think, Rosalind scarcely knew what to make of Lim, Bhewas sileut for o minute, and then, “Did you swim the tiver 8gain?” ghe demanded, quickly. \ “ No,” he answered. _*Iam indebted to0Yon for the means of crossing. Icame over intg canoe of your messenger, for I feared that By horse was ecarcely equal to his morning's fe: | again. At all events, the arrival of the boat saved him the necessity, poor_ fellow! and gavs me the pleasure—which efze I might not finve Lad—ot delivering this in safety.”- He drew from bis pocket, 25 Ls spoke, a small box, carefully and securely tied. The strings gave way at one impatient jerk of his fingers, and, when he lifted the cover, We saw—even by the dim firelight—a fresh, half-blown rose, Iying on & bed of wet cotton. ¢ 1t was certainly a lovely thing, but I was una- blo to appreciate its loveliness just then. I Tooked from it to the man who bad ridden thirty miles, and risked his life to obtain it; and his appearance—epattered with mud from head to foot, and significant in every line of utter ex- heustion—seemed to rob its fresh beauty of half the charm rightfully appertaining to it. " I think Rosalind felt this as well as I. She certainly fushed_crimson, and, when he_presented tho flower, hesitated like & ghy school-girl, in doubt what to say, “I am almost ashamed to thank you,” sha said, at last, in a Jow voica. * Instead, I onght to beg your pardon—I do beg your pardon—for having allowed you to incur €0 much danger and {ah'i'ig"’m for & mere caprice—a mere tritle like s “ Well done, Rosalind ” I thought; and I ex- pected that Stuart would answer at once with a fervent disclaimer of the danger and the fatigne but,_to my surprise, he scarcely seemod to un- bend, even under_the Iustrons eyes that wers fastened on him. I could scarcely think that it was indeed Stuart Carew who answered so coldly and stiffly : “To have gratified even your eaprice, Miss Earle, is an honor for which I am not ungrate- ful,” he said, a littlo grandiosely. ‘ Both the danger and the fatigue are over now, and indeed were never worth mentioning. As you reminded me this morning, I have incurred almost as much for a canteon of brandy. But”—and his voice seemed to harden a little here—*‘if you thought that I had served you in even the least degree, that fact might surely have induced you to ‘Gpate mo the unnecessary insult I foind ;lvwlifing me an hour ago on the banks of the ye.” “An insult!” repeated Rosalind, sharply. #“What do you mean }?"" % abarpl; ‘I mean your note,” he answered, with an inflection of sudden pession, shivering, as it were, the studied coldness in his voice* i What else could I mean? 1meanthe contemptuous words in which you bade me remain whero I was—the words which would have brought me acrogs_the river if it had been ten times tho flood it is, to fulfil my word, to_answer your challenge, to prove to youthat I am not an effeminate coward, nor yet a presuming fortune- hunter! ” “You do not know what you are efying!” said Rosalind, for once, more amazed than haughty. “You forget yourself, and 1 will try to forget this folly. Forgive me if there was anything in my note which wounded you,” she added, with unusual gentleness. I ihink the young fellow's }mle, passionate face touched her sud- denly, ‘It wes certainly a poor return for all that you had done.” ¢ If you mean what Ihave done to-day, do not think Of it!" he answered, slmost fercely. #Qnly your bitter taunts stung me into it. Love hed nothing to do_wlth such service as that, Roselind Earle, But love has had much—my God! it hss had everything—to do with every other act of my life since I haveknown you, snd it—this love which you knew as well as I—might havo won a little belief, a little respect from you, even thongh you are suffering vanity and Busepicion to eat away your heart.” “‘You—you are mad!” said Ropalind. “What havo I ever dono or said that you should pre- sume to speak to me like this " “Iwill tell you what you have done snd #8id,” he answered. **You ‘have showedme, mora than once, that you thought me 2 mer- cenary scoundrel, who was seeking you for onr wealth alone; and you have said—in lack and white within the last three hours— words 8o full of scornful contempt, so evidently intended to rebuko any possiblo presumption on my part, that even your love, 1f 1t_were offered mst f‘,hia moment, could scarcely blot them out.” ) The blaze which had flickered up just after the speaker's entrance, died down Dow foa dull glow, which barely revealed tho outlines of the two figures facing each other on the hearth, Even in this obscurity, however, I saw Rosalind snddenly put her hands to her face. *“You are hard on me,” she said, in & voice ‘which I could scarcely think was her own, “I— 1 did’nt mean all that.” “Yes, you meant it—sll,” Stuart answercd. #, who liave loved you ns.1 can scarcely learn t6” love another woman—T, who have hoped against hope to win you from suspicion and pride £0 your better naturc—even I know that yom meant it. Even I have gfiened my oyes at last to the bitter realization that I have been your plaything and your slave too long alresdy, and that, if I'wish to preserve self-respect, [ mustbe & free man from to-night.” “Your elavery was your own choice,” Rosa~ lind’s voice—trembling strangely out of the shad- ows—said. “I had noshare in it. Your free- dom, therefore, is not mine to give.” “But it shall bo mine to tale I he said, with a Esas'mnnte vehemence, which must hava thrilled er, for it thrilled oven me. “I have sworn it, and I will do it. If it can be accomplished in 0o other way, I will never see your fzce again after this hour !” P She started slightly, but lsughed—a faint, ner~ vous sound. ¢ Is it neceseary to be 80 melodramatic?” she esked. “Surely my poor face can do you no great amount of harm.” “1t has alresdy done me the deadliest of harm,” he answered, bitterly. ¢ Melodramatic! That is what people like you—people who have no passion—always say of those who_are fools gnough o givo you their hoarts, Mine hos tronbled you for the last time, however.® No doubt I shall be sorry to-morrow that I have been sufficiently mad to utter all this, but I can~ not be sorry now. I could not leave you forever ‘ithont having spoken the truth, It is folly to eny it, perhaps, but if another man should ever Jove you a8 well as I have done, let me beg you to doubt him less thau you have doubted me.” He turned from her abruptly with those words, and walked straight to the door—straight past me, whoee presence he had an}uiga forgotten —28if he (eue:f to trust his resolution a minute longer in her presence. _ S To my surprise, Rosalind followed him guick-~ Iy, snd Jaid her hand on his arm as he was open- ing the door. *\What is the menning of this?" she asked, i xmriuux!y. ““Where are you going?" “X yon will be kind enough to make my excuses to Colonel Beresford,” he said, “I am go‘m5 back to X—" “You do not mean that you will cross that river again? " # What I have done once, I can certainly do again,” he answered, coldly. ‘Pardon me, Miss Earle, but will you 1¢t me pass ? * ** One minute,” ‘snid she, with somsthing—s strange thrill—in her yoice. You have been very harsh, very unkind to me, and thaf, too, just after you have laid me under such an obli- gation; but I have not forgotten that it is Christ- mas-eve, and I have not forgotton, either, that I ‘promised this morning to grant you the right of asking a Christmas-gift in return for tho one you were to bring me—the oneyouhave brought. Btuart"—I cannof express the softness and @weetness of her tone as she spoke his name— “have you none to ask?” Although I was at some distance, Iheard the Jemgman drasw in his breath with s quick gasp efore he answered. Then it was very hoarsely. “Rosalind, why are you tempting me like this P—why can you not let me go? It canbe nothing but_vanity which makes you want the 1ast poor triumph of saying, ‘Hoe wes 5 pre- sumptuous fool, and I have rejected him.’ “ Porhaps it i3 only venity,” said Rosalind, quietly, “but still it is Christmas-eve, and we are never to seo each other again, and—and Iam gure it will not barm you to give me the ‘last poor triumph,’ if I want it." - “Then take it,” said he, fiercely. “* What does it matter whether or not 1 sayin 80 many words, *I love you, Rosalind Esrle, and, poor &8 I am, 1 am fool enough to ask you to believe this and to arry me ?” “As little, perhaps, a8 thatI should say, ‘I believe you, 2nd I will marry youl!’” she acawer~ ed, cleatly and calmly. *‘Rosalind " he cried, in amazemont, * Rosa~ lind, you—you do not mean it ?” “Does one ever jest lika this?” asked Rosa- lind, proudly. Then she gave a goft, low lsugh, &s she added, “You gee the Christmas rosa has been good for something, after all!” And I think it was this laugh which told Carew that she was in earnest, and that he, tao, had won gt the last moment, and in the unlikeliest ‘possible manner, his Christmas Rose. CHRISTIAN REID, The Wisconsin Central Railroad Riots, The Clark Connty (Wis.) Republican gives the following account, from &n eye-witness, of the trouble with the workmen on the Wisconsin gepl.;nl Railroad, west or northwest of Stevens oint : A disturbance, threatening serions trouble, broke out among the employes of the Wisconsin Central Railroad, about the first of the present month, which, up to within a day or tWo, Wa3 not quelled. RMr. J. B comingdirect from the v of the circnmstances o the particulars. It &t failed tocome to time G the middle of Novem pey on tho first of this: reason that the Bostor porary. depression ia tl they derived their cap uven, however, that to trthcoming, requested - . Olo month, guareateeir i the ghoald haveall il . 8ndirink, This reasoi eatifactory, end thl. aspented.”’ A force a the ‘rack at gect irains, consisting of 2and ongocomotive, were Tabble, &4 many goods 1. of by theq, Sgpbsequently,u. - 1 down eeclon 40, and_endeavors. passenger vain, but they wore defea. designs. Yporations wore wholly sus, but it is evected that order will soon b tored and Wk again resumed. Disi parties lay thy blame for this disturbance en- tirely UpoD Afaw ringleaders of tho working cre, who creavd jt after the company offered to do everything tlat was fair and honorable.” A speciel corsgpondent of the Milwaukee News, & few dss ggo. d th: troublo Lss been atigy, o ot e g AN S OUR CHRSTMAS TURKEY. e Sit down at tho table, comrade of mine; Here js cheer, and Bomy flagks of tle vintage of Rhine; \ Hero i rarmib, Lere is'omfort, and smiles that ra Y But = part of the welcome tht grests you to-day; And hero in the centre, enthyniad on 3 plate, Superb in surroundizgs, and pral in state, You behold—why, what cynic bulg give him a scowl ? With his cranbersy coUrtiers, of wational fawl. Folk call him 5 Turkey—the nate is shsurd ; This fowl is o purely American lyd, Hisstrut and his gobble, his arropat air, ‘His plumago of bronze, speak my'ountréman there. Butno! he's a coward—ahr! well, hat depends ! He can fight for his hen and’ 13 chicks and hi friends 5 N 4 And in one thing he shows an AmeRan gotl— You never can fores him to crawl though s hole. “Theres 6n edgs to tho carving e polisied aad bright; Tho plates are all warm, and the ne, Ttas Bafore s the colery Heams mmugn%‘:u‘m WHIRS And tho cranberry-jelly i set in s play. :l‘uxu!; tho ubarp fork astraddle our byaty’s breast- one 3 ¥ From hia side cut thin slices, tho whitest ter known, For the ladies, God bless them ! bub my der sensg Takes (o {high, and tholaat part that is ver the ence. AR 1 white meat or brown meat, 1 matle:s&)t much— "Tis taste we must please, not our teeing, nottoucl: ; And with either for dinner we’r2 not at a loy, 1f we've celery in plenty and cranterry s For then, with a flaak of gcod Rudoshe: We can manage, I fancy, in com: Nay, more—with o turliey like tiis at commaz, Wad'd not be & patriot, proud of his lana? | - They had figs in Judea, and fallings so fiae, Young kids dressed with olives, and whet wine; L They bad ‘palm-trees and date-trecs, and odys ox are b2 ¥ As the sweetest of roses could fling on the air, . ‘What their fruits and their flowers to these craber ries red, And umirdmlm and their date-trees, this colery in- stead 2 ‘While 2s for their kids, and their limbs, and tieln quails, One turkey—let's eat, for comparison fails. Ta03tAs DEXY EXGLIH. PERSONAL., —TLonis ML Babcock, of the Wateeka (L) Times, goes o Peoria for a wider field. —Aflss Martha Hale, of Boston, has given a scholarship of $2,000 to the Phillips Academy, Exeter, N. H. —Chavles W. Kendall, Congressman from Ne- vada, was married, Nov. 28, 2t Fall River, Mass., to Laura E. Arnzer. —3igs Annie Tyng has been admitted into the: TRhode Island Medical Society. These worths- doctors think that Annie-Tyng is better tham. po-T¥ng. Charles Kingsbury’s death—in Eeene, N. HL.. —is the first death in o family of eleven broth=— ers and sisters, of whom the youngest is over 4 yearsof age. _—Henry Porter Tenison, the Poughkeepsiz bigamist, being discharged on his own recogni- zance, was immediately rearrested at the instiga~ tion of Mapes, who now seeks to recover for tho services and labor of his dsughter. ~—The Rev. William Hobart Here, Seczetary of the Foreign Committee of the Board > HMis- sions, has accopted the Missionary Bishopric of * Niobrara gamcu" the Indians). —Miss Ellis, lato associate principal of Mount Holyoke Seminary, sailed on Saturday Iast from Boston en route to Rome, going to this assistance of Mrs. Gould, who, two years ago, established & school in the Eternal City. ., —The will of the late Sam. N. Pike names E. J. Miller and Wm. R. Williamson, of Cincin- nati, Sam. Craighead, of Dayion, and Wm. R. Tilney, of New York, as_executors. Afr. Miller and Mr. Craighead were brothers-in-law of the deceased. The other gentlemon were a long time connected with him in business. —DMajor McMacken, of Salem, Ill., whom the Pregident has aEpointed United States Pcnsion Agent for Sonthern Illinois, in place of General James 8, Martin, elected to Congress, was an officer 1n the regiment which General Gront criginally commanded. —The venerable John Prenties, of Eeene, G - long counected with the Now Hampehire Sen- tinel, is 95 yoars of age, and is a3 smart and cheery as ordinary men are at 60. He has voted for every President since Washington. He lives 1n & house that he built sixty years ago. He writes o weekly article for the Sentinel still. Mr. Prentisa attends the Methodist Church, and hg.: » seat of honor assigned to him in the pul- - pit. —The marriage is announced, et Annapolis, . Ma., last Wednesday, of Misa Louisa Anderson, - of Staten Island, to James Buchanan Henry, of Annopolis. Mr. Henry is a ncphow of the late ex-Pregident, after whom he was named, and, with his cousin, Miss Harrict Lane, was o mem- ber of the bachelor stateeman's family at the fine old homestead of * Whestland,” near Lan- caster, Pa. He was private secretary to Mr. Buchanan during his Presidential term, and has gince then been established in Annapolis in the practice of the law. The bride's father is the woll-known Dr. W. C. Auderson, formerly resi- dent physician of the Quarantine. —_— GENERAL NEWS ITEMS. ‘Wiscongin lead mines have yielded $30,200,00¢ - worth of lead since their discovery. —Thirty-one Ohio cities expended, in the fiscal yoar 1872, 1,760,326 more than the fax levy for city expenses. —Colonel DeGraf? proposes to_resume opers- tions on the Winona & St. Peter Railroad imme- Qiately after Christmas, with aboat 2,000 men. —W. N. 3cDonald, the newly elected Cirenif Clerk of Coles County, I1l., died Wednesday, anc at last accounts Mr. Wiley, the newly elected Sheriff, was not expected fo live. —Tho savings banks of Melbourne, in the year ending with June, received £512,301, and &n incrosse of £98,071 deposited over tho former year. of the people, how- Most of tho savin over, are invested in building societies. —3lrs. Lydia Studley, who sent two husbanda in succesaion to their long home by means of poison, and was centenced to imprisonment for ife, died at Valley Falls, R. L, on Tuesday of last week, aged 83, She was purdoned two yoars ago, on account of her age and infirmities. —The suspension of Applefon’s Annualis a positive loss to tho whole country, 1f Congress ‘would expend 2 smell portion of the money now wasted in printing volumes that are never read, in providing the publicwith a comprehensive an— nual, it would bs money well expended. —The Memphis zpeal tells of an Irishman who_got lenghed at for making faces over some pergimmons, and who retorted thus: “Ye may grin, ye mutton-headed idiots! but I can lnther the zowl outuv the man that spilt vinegar over thim plums.” —Darius R. Stevens, contractor for the con« struction of the Woburn (Mass.) Water Works,. met witha painful, if not fatal, accident at Horn. Pond last Fridsy afternoon, having one of his arms drawn into the gearing of tho machinery employed in pumping, and so badly crushed oe to render amputation necasng. His jaw was broken, and neck badly lacerate —Last week a horse was stolen from Cedar-- vale, Kansas; the owner pursued, and found the: thief at dirner just above the forks of the Qnras. - Ho fled toward the creek, and, just as he jumped in he was shot and fell in the water. Tho parties gave themselves up, and the Coro- ner's Jury found the man in the water, with & revolver in his hand. —Tt is estimated that Maineconstructed 40,000 tons of shipping last year. The com%m_mratnm from eight Bstacts give 143 vessels built of 34 086.06 tons rogister ; partial returns and esti- mates for the other four districts swell the- amonnt to 40,000 tons. In 1859 the amount was 40,905.34 tons and 57,353.77 tons in 1861. Thie shows that the shipbuilding interest is coming: up under the grest demand for uhg‘pmg of the. st two sears, togother with the et aid ob- {n.ined bythe law of last session allowing ma~ texisla ta bo nsed Lree of duty.