Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, March 30, 1873, Page 11

THE CIIICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, MARCIT 30, 1873, 11 —_— GERMANY. The Mysterious Illness of the Crown-Prince. Rumors of Poison---Suspicion Di= rected Towards the Jesuits, Lasker on Morals in Politics. Bpecial Correspondence of The Chicago Tribuns. Dnespzs, March 6, 1873, The cable keepsyou so well informed about European events, that your Transatlantic corre- spondents are forced fo resort to -rumors and speculations za the only means of anticipating the electric wire, and of escaping the charge of retailing threadbare newe. Rumors are to public opinion what straws are to the coming storm,— thoy indicste the direction of tho current, and ere often prophetic of eventa to come. A DARK STHPICION has ecized the German mind about the canse of the protracted illuessof the Crown-Prince of Prusain, Ever since his attendancs at the golden wedding of the King and Queen of Saxony, in November last, ho has suffered from a painful and obstinate disease. At first the assertion +was credited that a cold, contracted on the rail- way, was the only cause of his eickness. The loyal people waited snxiously and patiently for the recovery of this universally-popular Prince. They waited for several months, and now, when they find that the malady is still upon him, thotigh it i officially snnounced that ho Les *“almost ” regained his former vigor, they bo- think themaelves of similar instances in bi and begin to foar that their favorite Princo WAS POISONED, through the instrumentality of the Jesuits, dur- jug his visit to Dresdon. They speak of the dinner at the palace of the Queen-Dowager as the occasion on which the boly fathers accom- plished their purpose. Ever since that dinner, it is whispered, Frederick William of Prussia has felt the torturing pain goawing at his vitals. The doed, it is claimed, was easy of accomplish- ment at tho fefe in question, as many of the best friends of Romo and bittereet enemios of rounited Germany Liave access to the Dowager's palace, sud aro at Lome not only in its drawing- rooms, but also in 1ts cellars and kitchens. . TIOIS IS A CRUEL CHARGE tomake. It would be unwarrantable, without previons attempt at some sort of proof, to lay a crime of such hideous nature at the door of any men, or order of men, but the Jesuits. But I foar that to accuse theso saintly bretbren of so infamous a deed, even without tho elightesi show of direct evidence, is neither unjust to their reputation, mor inconsistent with their well- known record. Tho fact of the poisoning once establiehed, there would bo few impartial men who would look to any other source for the origin of the base and evil deed. As circum- gtances are, it cannot be denied that tho disciples of Loyola have the motive for the crime, the sssassins to commit it, and amplo means to car- Ty out the intent. AS REGARDS THE MOTIVE, it requires no great political sagacity to discaver that the death of the Imperial Crown-Prince would be a serious blow to the unity and devel- opment of the Empire. As the Emperor of Germany, he, more than any other Prince, would unito the discordant elements of tho nation. In case of his death, and that of the present Emperor, & Regency wonld give scops and o&)flpurumi to the Ultramontanes to fish in the dark ; and, out of tho muddy depths, thoy might pull on ehiorg, and infuse now lifo into, the dead carcass of Papal supremacy. Can there bo a doubt about their aim,—their ever- rosdy intrigues to hasten the fiudl consumma- tion of their ambitious hopes by all mecns- at their command ? THEY NAYE SPOKEN B0 TLALNLT upon this subject that the most incredulons must become nware of the danger. Let us sum up a portion only of this evidence: At arecent Roman-Catholicmeeting in Cologne. the spesker aftirmed that “The duty devolved apon the Catholics of Germany to accord the laurel to any netion which would re-establish the rights of tho Pope, even if Gormania should fall wc?ing to the ground.” 'The Baierische Valer- land, an influential newspaper of the Ultramon- tano party, proclaims: ** We do notloveyour Ger-. we bave never rocognized it; for ms it exists] culy u5 & pass- ing cloud on the firmement,” etec., etc. Tho Bishop of Regensburg preaches: * Truo 1aws are derived from God zlone [meaning from the Pope]; our Eing is King only by the grace of God [meaning by the gracs of the Pope, who clsims to be God's substitnte upon earth]; and, swhen Kings ceaso fo bo Kings by the graco of God, I will be one of the first to pull down the thrones.” 'The Cicilitta Catholica, the recog- nized organ of the Jesuits, promulgates the following fundamental principlo: * Peaco and pational unity are- a blossing_only for that peo- le which is in possesaion of the true religion. f this last is not the case, then national dis- cordis an incomparably smaller ovil than con- tinnence of religious error.” Or, in other words, the disruption of the German Empiro is imporatively demanded by the interests of the true religion. The unity of Germany is a do- plorable ‘ovil as long =8 a Protestant Power stands at the head of public affairs. . And so I might cite Catnolic suthorities ad infinitum, or, for that matter, ad nauseam; there man Empiro; is no end to this sort of sccumulative evidence, - and all contributes to THE INEVITABLE CONCLUSION that united Germany is a thorn i the side of “the truo Church,” and that a revival of the olitical pre-cminence of the Catholic Powers of urope, and the downfall of Protostant infinence in Germany, nre the only hope of Rome. And, if the death of a Protestant Prince can form even the smallest stepping-stone for tho designs of ambitious Rome, will any one, ac- uninted with the history aund nature of the ociety of Jesus, doubt for a moment that the murder of this Prince would Le considered a meritorious deed by its instigators? Hadrian IL., the last German who ascended tho Papal Throne, honastly endeavored to purify tho moral atmosphero of Rome and of the Church gener- ally. He died quite suddealy, in 1523. Liumor attributed his death to poison. On tho day of bis funeral, the tools of a corrupt clergy wrote upon the House-door of Hadrian's physician: “ Liberatori patric.” In like manner are the Jesuits ever ready to indorse and defond what- ever agency has contributed to the interests of their order, be the means employed over 60 Lor- rible and criminal. WHAT JIAVE THESE MEN )T DONE to reach their final aim,—to creato & universal hierarchy, with the Popo as absolute religious and political ruler, and this ruler a mere puppet in the hands of their order? During the last 300 sears, these geatlomen of the longand of the short' robe have been guilty of every erimo wnd every virtue known to the Iaws, to con- science, and to Luman imsgination. They have been as guilty in their virtues as in their erimes, for, in practiging the former a3 in ‘committing the latter, they bave becn alike spurred on to action solaly Ly the selfish purposes of their or- der. Chameleon-like, < THEY CHANGE THEIR COLOR with every motion. They have been stheists and zealots, . defenders of tho oppressed and fawning flatterers of despots ; at one time on- thusiastic advocates of Republicanism, at anoth- er tho moet loyal supporters of Royal power ; full of indignent virtue when refusing absolution to the poor, misguided servant-maid, and crouch- ing with servile flattery in the luxurious boudoir of some powerful Royul mistress ; threatenin one, who scarcely sinned, with the fires of Hell, and blessing the other with tle promises of Heaven's best gifts, though ber life, and brain, and heart wero rotten to the coro. Jesuits have traversed oceans and deserts to teach the Gospel to the heathen, perchanco to suffer tho agonies of martyrdom, at tho eame time and for the Bawo ends that other members of the brother- hood have encoursged tho mighty of the earth inall conceivable crimes. Jesuits have been forgers, murderers, epies, and thieves, benefac- tors of the poor, spostles of peace, and ex- mples of charity and good will, all at the proper time and place, as THE INTERESTS OF THEIR ORDER DEMANDED. The success of this Society is their only am- bition, for, unlike other members of the human raco, thoy bave neithor home, family, mor friends, nor legitimate posterity. Would it be difieult o find the man in the ranks of this “ermy to remove such an obstacle as the future Emperor of Ger many? The command of the Jesuit General would meet with speedy and un- conditional obedience. Tho first fundamental principle with his subjects is 'BLIND OBEDIENCE,— mbz&nssive, silent obedience of a corpse. “‘Bo obedient liko & corpee,” is one of the most im- perativo provisions of tke statutes of the Society of Jesus (vide Const. &c. J., Roma 1,571, Pars VL, ch. 1, p. 147). If the comimission of a crimeis demanded of a Jesuit, he must still obey. * His first duty i to obey; he i8 responsible for noth- ing.” 6 Genersl in Rome is the universal conscience ; the whole Society is like pliable wax in his hands. An individusl morcber dare not consider whether the act demanded of him Vo right or wreng ; his conscience is not in his own keeping. A corpse caunot ruzson ; it can- not resiut ; it can only silently oley the power that moves it. General Bexs, at Romo, is the resson, the intellect, tho judgment, tho con- scienco of every individual within the order which ho rules. - THE JESUITICAL SEMINARIES, 3 here “ Gury's Compendium_ Thoological Mor- alia” is tho favorite text-book on mornls, have thoroughly fitted all their graduates for just such deeds as rumor ascribes to them. On each succeeding 30th of May, these ecminaties cele- ‘brate the feast of St. Ferdinand of Castile (Fer- dinand I11.), and loud is the praise of this saiui, becanse with his own hands ¢le carried the firowood to the burning stake preparcd for the accursed berotics.” What moral distiution isthere betweon tho burning of a heretic and the poi- soning of a Protestant Princo ? The Jesuits are not wanting in “ animus " for either crime ir they had thie power, they would commii both. The morning papers contain the welcomo news that LASEER, the grent oxponnder of political morality, has sufliciontly recovered from his _recent illness to attend to-day’s session of the investigating com- mittee. Your readors have doubtless seen ex- tracta from his famous speech in the Prussian Parliament, and will doubtless agree with me that the corruption which ho exposed in con- nection with railroad affairs in Prussia is mero cLild's play compared with the slnFeudons frauds and monstrons bribery disclosed by the recent oxposures of the American Credit Mobilier. There is much in Lasker's speech upon which & certain class of American politicians may ponder with some protit. That portion of it wherein he recites that, a8 & candidate for the House, he deemed it 8 INCOMPATIDLE WITH IIIS DIGNITY AND INTEGRITY to pledge bis vote to the electors for a railroad in his district, our lobbyists and legislators will doubtless pronounce an_cxhibition. of supreme folly, and 3 ridiculous climax of visionars, trans- cendontal bosh. Another passage in his.speoch has earned him the flattering appellation of ** the citizen withont fear and without reproach.” *T have becn threatened,” said Lasker, -*that, if T persist in making theso disclosures with roferenco to the corruption in organizing and managing our railroads, men will be compro- mised who sre among my political - friends ; that, if ono is to fall, mauy shall fall with him. Gentlemen, I have Ilaughod at these fhreats. Whoever has & good con- science need not care ahout those things; and if, which God may forbid, rogues have ¢n- tered- the circle of honest mon, there is no aller- native but to expel them. Decont society dis- carda them; they are forgotton, and morality goes onwand unmolested.” g . IT IS TRULY REFRESHING t0 road guch sentiments in this ers of corruption and bribery. Lasker has descrved swell of the people. Ho is justly honoved as one of the most foarloss and successful advncates of political and official _integrity. And yet, sirange as it may soem, Laskor, with all Lis genuine love for hon- esty, i8 not an Orthodox Christian, but a Liberal Jew. Ho never delivered s temperance lecturo, nor has ho ever edifizd -2 Young Mon’s Christian Asgociation with the oxuberance of his rhetori- cal gonius. E. JUSSEN. $TING. TREE-PLA Ornamental Planting or the Ave- nues and Streets. BY H. W. 8. CLEVELAND, LANDSCAYE GARDENER. In selocting trees for streot-planting, referenco should be had not alone to the intrinsic char- sctoristics of the trees themselves, but to tha probable future destiny of the situstion they are to occupy. In Chicago, as in ali the growing citics of the Wost, the busiress quarters are con- tinually trenching upon the atreots of residonces, and trees are out of the question on the side- walks of business thoroughfares. It is, of conrae, impossible, in all cases, to predict with corteiuly tho fate of many of the streets; but, of & grest number, it requires no prophot to foresoo that, before the time required for the finest and most desirable trees to arrive at maturity, the plens- ant residences they were destined to adorn will Dave given place to tho shops, warehouses, or offices, in whose presence they will only bo regarded as intruders. In cases it is obvionsly tho part of wisdom to plant only such trees as are of rapid growth, and will yield the best return of ebade and verdure for the comparatively shert term of their existence. Buch trees are also, for tho most part, those which arolesst attractive at maturity, and theroforo can bo spared, when necesgary, with least feclings of regrot. Of trecs of this class, which attain large sizes, the best, a8 well as the mdstavailable for this Tocality, are the silver-maple, cottonwood, Eilver- poplar, American linden, andwhite ash. Tho two last-named, however, are deserving very ‘high renk as streot-trees for permanent occupa~ tion. The others are too well-known to require sny sotting forth of their merits. The silver- maple is the most rapid-growing of its species, and often assumes a graceful form, though it is much more apt to Dbecome dis- orted, under the influence of high winds, than tho sugar-mapls, which is of much slower growtb. The objection to tho gilver poplar is its_tendency to throw up suckers from its roots, which, in the country, bocomes & serious_evil, but is of less conseqnenco in the city. The tree grows very rapidly, and tho pure, downy white of the under side of the leaves, contrasting with the dark, glossy green of tho upper surface, renders it an witrctive object, especially whon agitated by the wind. sides these, there are some troes which may well be recommended for such temporary nso, but which never aitain sufficient sizo to adapt them for permenent mse as street trecs. Of these I shonld give the first place to the nogundo, or esh-leaved maple, .better known in some places s tho box-elder. It is o fast-growing, small troe, 20 or 25 feet in bLeight, v..th denss foliage, of & rich green color, and with a_broad, spreading head. Bpecimens of it may be seen in the grounds of the Chicago Uni- versity and at Lincoln Park, which prove, by their healthy growth, that they do not find the climato to disagree with them. ~ Tho golden-ash and the mountain-ash may be placed in the same list,—neither of them ever attaining the rack of large trees, but becoming, in a fow years, attrac- tive ornaments to the wayside. On strects tnd avenues which may reasonnbly be expected to continue for an indefinite tima out of the reach of businces-trafiic, and accupred only for residence-purposcs, it is desirable not only to oxerciso more cara in selecting irees, but & more elaborate preparation for their reception, and, if possiblo, such & mutucl agreement amon property-owners ss, msy result in a continue unity of design, which alono can insuro euch dignity and cleganco a8 aro desirable. The hot- erogencous mixture of trees of all sorts und sizes, which is commonly scen. is s destructive of all sach effect as would be the farnishing of s room with chairs, tables, book-csses, &c., picked up st hazard, somo of wainut, eora6 of mahogany, some of maple; unexcoptioneble individua'ly it msy be, but devoid of eleganco 8s & whole, and oxciting only an uncomfortable sonse of incongruity and utter want of taste. stroet should, on_the samo principlo, preserve & unity of design in its character a8 & whole, and nothing can contribute so much to this as a ju- dicious selection and errangement of the irees which should comprise its chief ornzment. ~Let me not_be understood as saying that no variety is admissible in street-planting. On the con- trary, variety is no less desirable Lero than else- where ; but the effect of varicty can never be secured by indiecriminate misturcs, howsver aitractive tho individual components may be. Most people who think at all about the ‘mat- ter Envn their favorites among trees, &nd are very apt fo think 1o others are worth planting; but tho most besutiful troes are only geon to best edvantage by judicious contrast vith others of o different cheracter. Probably 2ot one man in & hundred, in passing clong such Bsirect na Wabash aveune, ever thinks of the trees, or notices what varieties aro planted there, though, if he were describiug thy street to ono who Lad never seenit, he would mention its troes as one of ite moat attractive features. But if, instesd of sucha miscellaneous mixtare as néw prevails, a regular design had beeu observed of planting several blocks with trees of s singlo variety, bat marking the four corners where other streets crossed with individnal trees of a uite distinct character of form or folisge, then anging to anotbor aud decidedly differeut kind, and sdopting al=o some slight change in the form of setting, it would bo impossible for any but a very dull person to pase througl it without being imgressed with the ovidence of tasteful design, such ! and also_with tho agreeable sense of variety af- forded by the complete change of character created by the use of different trees. There is Dbardly any limit tothe changes that might bo thus secured by the proper useof no greater variety of trees than muy now bo found on that streot; and such an arrangement would force itself tpon people's attention by the very cense of ploasant eurprise, whereas nobody notices the difference between individual trees when mixed indiscriminately. Ttis, of course, not worth while, ina news- paper-article, to go_into details of ‘methods of arrangemont, espocielly a5 0o probebility exists of any action by which the oxecution of any ex- tended derign could bo tecured. But, beforo speaking of ~desirable * troes for stroet-planting, lot me speak of the prep- aration of = tho soil, which should be made before planting any treo on the streets of Chicago. It is comuwonly thought to bo very generous treatment of a treo to dig a hole for 1t rathor larger than the length of its roots, and 11l in around it, when planting, with rich earth. But orly & very emall portion of the roota will remain within that narrew space, and, to insure the vigorous growth which alone ean reuder the tree Ru_object of besuty, the wholo ground arcund it should ve thoroughly trenched and en- riched, o as to invite the reots to ramblo freely and find nourishment in every direction. In such a soil, or rather no soil. as genorally uuder- lies Chicugo, the best proparation for tree-plant- ing would bo to dig a trench the whole length of the spaco to be planted, aud tho width of tho 8pace betwoen the street-curbing and the plank or ‘stone sidewalk, aud carry away at least alf of the ecarth that- was tuken omt, ng thc romainder with rich loam, and strengiliening the wholo with & Liberal mix- ture of tl:oroughly-rottod manuro, o, botter yet, with tho blood and boue maunure manufactured by the Northwestern Fertilizing Company, who send annually'to the distant Southern States en- riching matorial enough to convert all Chicago into a garden, whilo we continno to_groan over our poor soil.” Bupposing the space between the street-curbing aud.-the paved portion of the side- walk to bo 6 feet wide, if the whole front of a lot wore Jug out to the depth of 3 feet, and cnriched as above, and the troes then planted, it is safe to sy that the rate of their growth would bo doubled, and the luxuriance and rich color of the folisge would be proportionally increased. If such preparation woro made beforchand, tho holes for planting need only be largo enough to allow the roots to assume their natural poeition, in which they shonld be carefully arranged, and the earth worked in among them by band. It will be geen that I am speaking now of nursery trees, nnd not of such large specimens ns aro bronght in from the forest, with frozen balls of eartly, which are desirablo only where immediato effect of presouce of trees is roquired, without much regard to development of individual charac- acteristics. For permanent resultsan olmof 15 feet high and 3 inches dismeter, takon from & nurgary with abundance of roots, and curefully planted, will be found proferable to one of twico tho size, | bronght from the forest, with all possible car in its romoval; and, in ten years from tho time of planting, it will be a finor tree. . Aoz plsiting, tho hoalth and vigor of the tree will Lo greatly promoted if tlio ground around it is protected from being tmmr ed on, by some kind of guard, which will have the cffect of mulching. In Paris, tius is cffected by a platform of open iron-work surrounding each tree, aud extending on each side far onough to cover the roots. It might be easily, cheaply, and neatly dono by & frame-work of joists, with slats nailed across, half an inch apart, which would admit tho water passing through, and, at. the samo time, shade tho ground and keep it looso. The fast-growing treea I have named as desira- ble whero only o temporary shado is required, do notmeed such preparation of the soil s the longer-lived trees, which aro preferabla for per- manent occupation. The cottonwood and poplar will grow in mero sand, 88 may bo roon abun- dantly whero they are growing wild on tho lake- shoro; but the elm, ssh, linden, hard-maple, and horse-chestriut roquire rich scil, and, when we reflect that, if provided with proper nourish- mont, these trees may become living monuments of beauty, onduring for centuries, how pitifully ‘monn it seems to shrink from the’ labcr of pre- snml.inn, which may be doue in two or threo 838, A SR HER LIFE AND BINE. and the sun may shine, To-morrow will came, fue, and the day divine ; And the hesvens bo bl ‘And tho oarth BuQ the shy sy elug Loy ‘Of thoglory and joy of tho summer weather, Let it come with thie sun, or come with the shower, 1t will bring in its round tho fateful hour That I promised to yield to a wife's sweet claims My life's fierce joys and its fevered atma, To-morrow will come ; and yet, and yet, 1 tremble to see yon golden &un set ; 1 tremble toseo the dim sturhght sirengthen 1 tremble tosee tite gray shisdown lengthen, And 10 seo the last lights burn low in the eky, And the shades and the glooms of earth magnifs ; More than all, I tromblo o ask my soul why It should shrink from s dsy that with Heaven should vie. Her life i:ito mine, liko 3 soft moonbean ‘flint kinees the breast of o sullied strearn. To-morrow shall fall ; and God only knows whether These lives, so uniiko, aball mingle tagether. . lier's chastd and swoet oy the Seraphim's dream ; Mine, o deflled it would almost seom Thoy never could blend, moro than ol with the ses, Though they flowed on'together through eternity, Sho will yield on the morrow her snow-white life, With its gentlo alms and its sinloss strife; Her beart's first love, 8o doep and tender, ‘And her rich, young ears, unto me sho'll render, And I, in return, shiall givo her —, ahi! What? Tl 16 ovils that Toll to tha sinner's fot, 4 guilty soul, and a deadened beatt, Whiero the impulse of youth hath never » part. YWhen to-morrow shall come, and in the dread calm, As we stand beforo angels and men, palm to paim, While the low wodding-chants highi over us hover, 0, then will my soul its full shame discover | And when her soft lips shall tremblo and say, #Tn gickuens, in hesith, in death—and alwa; Tumbied, abashed, by har pure, sweet trust My wpirit'shall fall at her feet il the dust. Perhaps she would lift t; bnt then her white hands yould gather tho dust and the stains of {he sands, 0, women who tand with men at thesltar! Your pure, sweet lips would tremble aud faltor Did their sin-stained lives lle open like scrolls, Or an angel in waiting stand weighing your gouls ; Yours, mounting upwards, 5 if unto God,— Theirs, sinking down, like'the dark, foul clud. CHIcago, Conxt€ Laws ST. Jom. e gee i Wolf-Iluntmg in Russin. A correspondent of tho London 3orning Post gives a lively nccount of wolf-hunting, which is one of the fuvorite aports in those parts of Rus- Bis wheroe the a 3 have not disappeared be- fora advencing civilization, At some abnormal hour between night and morning you are aroused Dy a vigorous ¢hake and a hoarso admonition to +“tumblo up and look sharp about it, for thore's 1o timo to lose.” You mnke o Lasty toilet, and, sallying forth, sco in frons of your hut, in the dir light of tho coming dawn, a huge, derk, shapelcss mass, which, as your cyes got used to the darkness, nssumes the form of o broad, heavy, three-horse eledgo with very high sides; not tnlike an enormous washing tub, around which flit three or four spectral figures with Janterns—the fitful glare making their grim ‘bearded faces look grimmer and lees human than over. Guns, pmmunition, Laversacks, otc., are stowed away in tho bottom of the convesance; nd lnst, but Dot least, o young pig, protesting against his abduction with a londness and flucncy that would do honor io a Hydo Park meetin All being now ready, the hunters squeezo them- gelves into their places, the driver ehakes his reins with & wild_whoop, and Away we go into iho darkness, Milo after mile of tho frozen wasto goes by like & dream, ill at length tho epectral ehadows of tho forest begin to gather round us, aad tho squeals of our unlucky pig (whose ears one of our party is_now pinch- ing vigorously) begin to be auewered by anothor ound, which 110 one who has once heard it will easily forget—not the long melancholy hosl Wherewith & supperless wolf may be hoard be- ‘moauing himself on tho outskirts of our villaga any might in_thoweek, but tho quick, snarling crs of one who saes his food coming aud wishey to hasten to it. And there they come at last, tho gaunt, wiry, slouching fellows, with thoir Dusly toils and flat, narrow beads, and yollow, thievish, marderous cyes. Crack! the foremost of the pack rolls over on his side, kicking convulsively; but tho rest gallop o un- Jwoding. Crack! crack! and ‘two more fall dond, Biotting the snow with o smear of Qull ‘crimson.. Some of tho boldest pursuers swarm up to the sledge, and attempt to leap over its projecting sides, whilo we pound their heads with tho buts onds of our pieces, and chop their pawss with hatchets, and slagh them across the Gyas with hunting kmives, the two hindmost of our party meanwhile blazing awsy over our choulders as fast as they can load. Andeo, fors time, the running fght goes fiercels on, making altogethor & vory striking tablean. But *“ tha pucs is too etiff to last," a3 our lesder remarks with o knowing grin. A run at full speed throug deep suow tries even & grown wolf too soveraly to La continued beyond a certain timo ; aud in faco of a stout Tesistanca the beast’s in- herent cowardico is_sure to come to the surfaco sooner or later. Already three or four gaunt, shaggy veterans, who have probably had a good supper over night, begiu to hang back. a8 if doubting the wisdom of risking their lives for & bypothetical breakfast. The epeed of the rest slackens by degrees; and st 1ength the whole pack drop off 68 if by tacit screcment. leaving us to pursue our woy unmolested. As we emerge again upon the open plain, acroes which the first beams of the rising sun are just beginning to fall, we seo tho last of our grim followers sliuk- ing like a belated spectre into the gloomy had- owa of the forest which we have quitted. A WORTHY TRIBUTE. A Testimonial to the White Star Line =-Presentation to Capt. Thompson. From the Liur{oal Daily Telearaph, March 1, The steamers of tho White Star Company and their commanders are becoming not only famous for their fast passages, but for tho number of lives which they have saved in the Atlantic dur- ing the past twelve months, and yesterdsy, at a meeting of the Local Marine Board, Mr. Shall- cross presiding, there being prosent Mr. Philj Nelson, Capt. Judkins, Mr. T. E. Lemon, Ar. J. Phullips, Mr. H. J. Ward, snd Mr. W, Killey, a splendid gold chronometer, chain, and ‘sppand- ages, was presented to Capt. W. H. Thompson, of the Whito Star ComEa"ny_'s steamer Ropablic, as a recognition from sident Grint and the Unitod States Government of his gallant and heroic conduct in saving the lives of tho crew of the brig Mountain Eagle, which was sbandoned at sea on the 8th of January, 1872. The circum- stances of the rescue of the crew of this vessel were published nt the time of the disaster ; but although the afair has been 80 long in abeyance, the Government of the Umited States have not been unmindful of the humane conduct of the captain of the Whito Star steamor. fr. Shallcross, in making the prescntation, said it was his ploasing duty to have to present to Capt. Thompson a very valuablo rocogni- tion of his humane and seamanbke condact from the Government of the United States. At tho presont time, porhaps, more than any other, the dnty they had to porform just then had & signifi- cance, and it was also gratifying to him to know that in the Mercantile Marine of this country there were men who had not lost all feelings of humanity, _After alluding to the ter- rible catastrophe which lately occurred in the Downs, and which was an exceptional event eo far as the exhibition of a lack of humanity went, Do eaid 21l nations appeared desirous to acknowl- edgo the gallant conduct and bravery of the sail- or, and under all circumstances he deserved it ; but there was no nstion who moro readily recog- nized kindness, heroism, and humaniy at sca than America. Ho had, thereforo, great plons- uroin presenting to Capt. Thompson, in tho namo of the President of the United Htates, & magnificent timepieco a8 a reward for saving the crew of the Mountain Eagle. He (Alr. Shallcross) might just state that thero was no unnecessary risk in rescuing the men, bat still thero was no wantof bumanity. The brig Mountain Eagle, when she was fallen in with by tho Ocoanic, was :bound from Jersey, United States, to Portland, with a cargo of coal, was in a sinking condition, and Cn{;t. Thompson was 1ot the man to pass by and leave thom to per- ish. The crew consisted of nine ds, ‘and they bad been thirty-five hours at work at tho gumps ; and, in consequence of five out of nine eing frostbitton, thoy had all been taken to tho poophouse,—having given up pumping,—where they wore fonnd whon the Ocesnic bore down upon them. Thoy had saved nothing but what they stood in, and whon on board the Oceanic they wero treated in the most honorable mauner both by the Captain, tho officers, thoe crew, and tho passougors. Thoy varo supplied with clothes, &c., and’ eve §[rtl.m WAS NOCOSBATY towards their comfort. . Shallcrosg, in conclu- sion, stated that the Liverpool Shipwreck and Humano Society bnd prosented Capt. Thomp- won with their gold medal ; tho silvor medal had becn awarded to tho econd officer, who had charge of the bost which went to the rescue of tho crow of tho Mountain Eagle, and s sovereign to each of the seamen who mannod tho boat, If Cupt. Thompson chose, tho Board would indorse Lis papers, and_send them up for ap- robation to the Bosrd of ‘Lrade. 7The watch, o might state, bore the following inseription : “ Presented by tho President of the United States to Capt. W. H. Thompson, in ac- kmowledgment of his services in rescuing tho crew of the American ship Mountain Eagle, on the 8th January, 1872." The watch had been forwarded by the English Ambassador in Wash- ington to Earl Granville, who forwarded it to the President of the Board of Trade, by whom it was transmitted to tho Local Marine Board. He (Mr, Shalleross) hoped that Capt. Thompson Sould long live to enjoy tho happinesa which always attends the performance of such humane and gallant conduct. [Hear, Lear.] Capt. Thompson, in acknowledging the pre- sentation of the testimonial, eaid he did not value it so much forits intrinsic valuo, or for the inscription which was upon it, but becawso it cnrriedp with it many pleasant and feeling associations. He felt in what he had dono that bo was simply carrying into practice the words of our great naval Captain, who said, ** England expacted every man to do his duty.” He had great pleasure in accepting tho testimonial, and he nfiliuht just state, as the senior commander of the Whito Star Line of Steamers, that during tho past year three vessels of that Company, i namely, the Adriatic, Baltic, and Atlaotic, b saved 1o lees than one hundred lives at ses. Tho American Congress had recognized tho Zallant conduct of the Captain and crew of *the Atlantic,” snd ho (Capt. Thompton) would concludd by saying that Lo ehould alwsys do the enmo as b had hithortg dono. - (Flr, hear.] Capt. Thompson, having boen 'congratu- lated by tho gentlsmen present, immediately rotired, and the proceedings torminated. A WINTER WEDDING. (AT CHISELURST cruncH, aaN, 9, 1673) - Author of ** John Halifaz, Gentleman,” clang of bells, iage bells, On the wings of tho blast that sinks and swells, That Lold, weak, fato-struck, suffering soul, hom Cliist wash clean, tnd God make whole | And wo stond in the light of two happy faces, Two Lappy hearts whom our heart embraces ; And wo Lear the peaceful organ’s sound, ‘And the angry storm sweep harmless round ; Blessed i the bridegroom though tho hesvens are dun ; Blessed is the bride whom no sun shinea on. Mayhap, some wandering angels ssy, Stop snd eay, As through the glodm they carry away, That bodiless spirit to Lim who knows— 1o ouly—whither the spirit goes : #God give them all that the dead man lacked (As men daro judge him) in thonght, word, act; Deny them all that to him was given, Lest earth’s doors, opencd, shut doors of heaven.” Bleseed I8 the bridegroom without crown or land; Dilessed is the bride with the ring on her band. Peal, ye joy-bells, peal through the rain, “Blinding rain: God makes happiness, God makes pain T Sammer and Winter 4 good tree grown, A trong soul strengthens through weal snd woes, 4Bo not afraid,” savs the wild sobbing wind: “Ween,” igh the clouds, “ but the blue Is behind.” ‘Bleaséd is the bridegroom under shower of suz, Tilcased is tho bride whom Love's light shines on. Count de Beauregnrd. ‘When Napoleon III. died, one of his 508 was in New York City on his way to the Pacific coast, to improve his fortunes, and a Paris pa- por has just given somo news of him in a letter from himself. Louis Napolcon Jerome Howard is the son of Louis Bonaparte and Miss Howard; _ was born in London, in 1847, and crested, by his father, Count do Beauregard. Napoleon IIL avo Miss Howard the chatosu de Beauregard in 53, On hor death the chateau fall intothe pos- session of the Count de Beauregard. He was well educated by his father, and fought in the late Franco-DPrussian war. He lstely sold the property for 750,000 francs, and detormined to scttle in America. He has had bad luck sl- xeéuly, as the following letter from him indi- cates : “1 landed in New York after a very pleasant voyage, and had a splendid timo of threo days in the imperial city of the new world, which, if it is not liko Paris, in many respects surpasses our great metropolis. Then I lett for the West, in a magnificent sleeping-car, the unwonted lux- ury of which enubled mo for the first time in my life to sleep soundly on the cars. I thought it was very nice ; ‘but the waking was terrible ; for, in the morning, when I dressod, I found that my heavy waistcost had been cut open, and that the 91,000 franc bills which I had sewed in thero Liad been abstracted therefrom. I was beyond Buffalo when I secortained that my money Wwas gone." Ee g g A Grand Safety ¥otels From the New Fork Tribune. A grand hotel is a good thing, -but 3 grand safety hotel, which could satisfactorily insuro 1ts guests againat being roasted. would be s bet- ter. A correspondent suggests a structuro built with s large epace above, to be called the safety gallery, running along the upper story, with stair- ways leading to it from different of the houso. This should open ont by & doorway upon aniron_bridgo, ten feet wide, strong, and en- tirely firo-proof, and croseing the street, to a building owned 'by the hotel proprietors. This building should have & square roof, with & balus- trade around it—a roof made strong enough to hold a large number of people. There should also be s direct stairway down to the lower room through tho inside. Here the bsggago could be taken, and here the guests carefully sheltered until sl dnnficr wag over. Our correspondent thinks that 3 Lotel built on this plan would be 8 great suceese, and would relieve & eense of inses curity wluch is a dieagreeablo peculiarity of greatly crowded hotels. . with him on Monday. VOICE AND FACE. . “Ycouhave succeeded. I have failed. What is your secret 7' ‘‘Reality. The heart must have known the joy and the sorrow it would reveal.” - “ And I, you would say, dwelling in the clear cold heights of iutellectual and mathetic culture, can’ know nothing of the great multituds who bave not yei begun to climb, only to look up- ward—the groat unwashed, who, you afirm, suffer and Tojoice equally with th clean an godly. A8 {'eu. I am only a woman, a womsan of the peoplo, but the darkness and silence make me sudacions. Learn the joy of great suf- fering, of struggling against great odds, of find- ing out how much you can endure; then out of your own sonl wnite the meseage that shall touch the secret hoart of humanity." “You aro eloz‘nen& to-night, and incomprehen- sible 8s over. Why will you not trust me with your past as well 88 with your present 7" “Becauso my present means bread-and- butfer for myself and my children, and I am grateful to you for your kind and friendly criticism ; my past means—nothing—to you— or any other,” This fragment of conversation drifted in tome through the darknees that eottled down on tho broad balconies of the Narraganset, hiding thd scattered gronpa only dimly visibla tlrough the thick-gathering mist. Who were the speskers? New-comers,” of course; half a hundred by the iast boat. Then I began to create out of my brain and the voico the woman it belouged to. The man's voice had nothing salient sbout it, simply amooth and conventional, suggestive of good-breeding and refinement, nothing more; the woman's was individual in modulation as well ag intonation ; there was always o possible enthes; not a second chapter. She must bo brave, tender, and true. I could stake my life on that just’ from the quality of tone—so Bweet, 80 pure, 80 firm. I determined to watch evory group as they came through the drawing- room when the supper-bell rang. I mused, speculated, slept. When I awoke, |. tho parlor ‘and the balconies were deserted; the mist had changed to s pelting rain, and the distant hum of voices and clattering of dishes spoke of supper. I was vexed enough, but con- soled rayself with tho thought that I should cer- tainly know the manner of the woman such a voico belonged to. An extra table for the new arrivals: a stout Indy with threo blondo daughters, all negations excopt as to sizo; an ancient damsel, suggestig Betsy Trotwood ; Baynor, a8 well-known littera- teur, with his protly wifo; & little fair-haired girl (with Ler & lady with _goft_white .curls—her grandmothor grnbably; T could not sco bor facc); & party of outherners, fussy and pretentious, not the gon- uine articlo; and a score more, not one of whom could by any possibility, I felt, bo my unknown. The more I thonght of it the more it annoyed me, for it was always a favorite study of mine to intérpret character by the voice.. I sm ravely deceived. Haadwriting is not o sure test; it is always more or less artificial and imitative. DBut tho voice is more of a traitor than the faceeven. Vulgarity or refinoment, frivolity or earnostuess, coldness or tenderness, blunt perception or over- senitiveness—every one of theso botrays itself in intonation even ina single phrase. I grum- blod myself tobed, witha fresh twingoof my old enemy the gout, vowing next year to go to the mountains and get rid of the overlastiug fog end rain of the Narragsuget. Three days the storm lasted ; threo duys I was prisoner in my room. 5 : An entire new_set of faces at the break- fast-table when I made my appesrauce: Do chance now of solviug the mystery. . Even Raynor_had gouo, il T might Bavo atiod him; I was almost sure he was other speskor. Either tho gout or the disappoint- ment spoiled my temper; ovorything was_de- testable about the place. . Joln “Reed promised to come down for Sunday. I drove to the depot for him st sunset, resolved to return to the city NoJohn. Of course not. A crowd fwico a8 | large as the omuibuses could accommodate. I was hurrying awsy, in, my selfishness, lest I shonld be asked to take some one in withme, I so detest strangers; but as I turncd Dess’ head I caught sight of the little girl I had scen the previous weel with hor grandmother ; & little lame boy with crutches stood by her. dren always attract me, snd it was, I hope, something better than a whim that mada me ask it any one were coming for them. A gentle voice replicd, + Mamma hias gone for s carrizga. We are going to the Narraganset, but Christie cannot walk.” Children are always friends with me, and we were on the best posaible terms, when & close- Iy veiled Agure, with o light, olastic step, full of grace and vigor, approschoed. 0L, mamms, could you not get & cerriage ? What shall we do ?" cried the little ones. Without, givin;,;Jher time to reply, I bastened to placo mine at her disposal, assuring her that it was no inconvenience, a8 I 8lso was going to the Narraganset. and hor little boy might take cold waitiug. 1 bave alwaya been glad that T did tho right thing before ehe spoke; Lad I wait- ed till afterward, I should never have felt sure of my motives. “Thank you. _There has been some mistal:e. 1 accopt your kind offer giadly for my little boy's sake." The voico ! ‘Was thero ever a clearor case of virtue its'own reward! Tho best things in life always do hap- pen, sud nover come by seeking. Having found her, 1 was content to ride in silonce. Tho littlo Doy engrossed her attention, so she did not spealk azain until we resclied tho house; then a quict «“Thank you,” and a dieappearance too quick for mo to catch even a glimpsa of her face. Supper-time—the children and their mother in the vacant seats at my table. Soft white curls, but not a grandmother. The faco was that of o woman scarce 25. \¥as it a blank or a mystery ?. I scanued it closely. Clear, woll-defined fca- tures ; broad, low forehead ; dark evebrows; long 1ashes, throwing 8o deep & shadow that the color of tho oyes was not to be hastily determined, In repaso the face made mo think of the Sphiny, with its grand, solf-contained aspect; there secmod over & veil between you and it. - 8 Was it a face that knew no passion, had never becn moved from its quiet calm? or had fiorce storms swept over it and left the stilluess of desolation? A slight compression about the lips suggested an acquired firmness in its lines. The mouth should have been miobile and flexiblo ; instoad, it was hard and stern, ex- copt when addressing Ler clhildren. Then the sweetness and tenderness that slumbered in tho voico played about the sensitive month : and 1, » dreary old buchelor, thonght Wit & treasure that woman's love miglit be, and -wondered what manner of man she had for a kusband. Days and weoks wore away. 3Irs. King and ‘her children remained through all the changes of the season. The little boy was- beneiited :by the air and sea-bathing. Noone conld ssy they knew her very well; in fact, no one know anything about Ler. She received arcels by oxpress, and always mailed her own otters. Home called_her proud and_reserved, |- others found her affable and entertaining; the men taved about ber peculiar beauty; their wives thought it affected to resd_editorials, and not at all_womanly to have decided opinions on the questions of the day. All the children in the house adored her. ~ Ona afer another, each had shared the charmed privecy of her room as invited guest of the little lamo boy. Buch stories as mamma told ; such lovely, quaint be- longings that mado a liviug bome of tho four bare walls of thoir room ; such _delicious fruite and flowers lavished on her darling that ho might make others happy in the giviog ! Yot no one knew whence she came, her ante- codents, or intentions. Wa were better friends then the rest throgh little Christic, who wes my daily companion in_my rndes. He was o _strnge, Paul - Domborich child, gitting with his little hands folded in hislap, Jooking away into the distance to landscapes It was a little thing to build upon, and I was halif inclized to call myuelf an old fool for dreaming idle fancies about a woman who was hard, cold, brilliant as an icicle— Faultily faultloes, clly regular, splendidly null, Dead perfection-~.i0 more. The night of our grand hop Mre. King made her sppenrance for A few minutes only, & quaint picture, in her veivat vest and snowy laces; the eofs white curls—astrange frame-work for that yoing fsco—made hor_rcem liko somo wicred beanty of King - Louis' time. fer little girl danced like s fairy, and was 80 happy, 80 petted, that her mother left &er to enjoy herself while she sought her little b"f" room to see if he slept. grew weary watching the dancers, and stopped out on the balcony, pacing back and forth farther and farther till L rounded the cor- per. Far awusy I thought I discerned a woman’s figuro bowed ielplossly, the face buried in the hands, just visible in the shadow. I am always s privitleged character, en old man, and a doctor too. 1 thought it might bo protty Mrs. Harwood, whose baby was 8o ill, and drew mnear to comfort her, laging my Hand upon ber ghoulder. 'Bho started, raised her face. It was Mrs. King. Oh, sucha face! Noneed now toaskif misery and pain had boen at work ; noneed to ssk if that cold exterior hid a warm, throbbing heart. Trouble, gorrow, anguish beyond words to paint, wero writtes onthat face: on tae quivering Lips an eternity of bitter memories, of more bitter fore- inge, was imprinted. - “ah, my poor, pusr chuld,” I said, “for- givo me! 1 do not ask your secret; let mo help vou to bear it.” I folded her in my srms, und she Iaid ber weary bead, with its Bnowy erovt: damy with tho mist ard ber tears, upon'ta; heartas on a father's. As well she might, for the years botween us. Tnew then thet *he voice was true, though tho deily masi: she wore was false. I knew I could trust Lier turough that, though I might never ".now the whole. I do not know how long I stood there, mutely caressing tha dear head, till the fiorce passion of weeping had gisen place to a quiet stillnons that ahowed her self-control had returned. ‘I -will goto my room, Send Marian to me." She wring y hand, then passed quiotly and swiltly to hier chamber. In the morning there was no trace of tho evening's agitation kave n deeper shadow over tho eyes, 1€ I had thought to give her a_word of help or sympathy, in tho prescuce of that calm, still, paseionless fuce the words died npon my I could aimost fancy my remembranco a drexa, a creation of wy own brain. That ovening, a3 I was taking my usual sauset stroli over Losg Beach, on the hughest summit of Vinnaclo Rock stood a figuro almost gigantic in the fadiug iight. Somothiug indescribable, as all personslity i3, sent my thoughts away to the Alps and o pleassut traveling companion, an Englivhman whotm I met on the Moer-de-Glaco, afterward at Vienns, whero the Lichtenstoin her- telf lost Lor heart to the handsome stranger, who scattered money like water. I bad not in memory got cut of the gay mesquersde whero wo paried, whon a warm grasp of the hand and o hearty * Wio gebt's # " brought mo faco to faco .with tlo subject of my thoughts. “Did you drop from tho clouds?" I cried. % No; Iama restless wanderar, hero to-day, there to-mocrow : wulked from the station, and took the rocks instead of the road.” We linked arms and strolled toward . tho house, peasing the merry groups at croguet, too intent on their game and too oxcited even to notico the advent of a stranger. On_the piazza ‘sat Mrs. King, the thick vines concenlixig our ap- proach till swoworo close upon her. I thought it strange I Liad never before noticed the effect of the sunlight through tho green leaves. She look- ed absolutely pallid, like Boucicaunlt’s Phantom. Allow me, oy dear Mrs. King, to intro: my friend and traveling compauion, Mr."—the name had slipped from my treacherous memory, Lut the gentleman supplizd tho omission—' Mr. Wentsworth ;" but it did nct sonnd femiliar to me after all, though I repeated it to myself twenty times, Very stately always in her manner toward strangers, I.thought I detected & tinge of satiro in Mrs. King's eiient ackuowledgment of the introducrior. They were a handsome couplo as they rtood for that instant togeth- er; but there was one odd thing—uo_other man in the world could have extecded his hand in grooting and witadrawn it withont seoming awkward ; nc other woman could have 8o quiot- Iy ignored an ontstretchod hand withont seem- ing rude. Bowing coldly, hat with perfect breeding, Mrs. King passed into the herae, 2 little to my disap- ‘pointment, if not tc Woutwortl's. “Handsome, isc’t she?” Iseaid, very stupid- y. “There's somothing o remarkable in that whito hair, with the black eyes and eye- browa.” < 4 Har eyes are gray,” bo answered. It struck me thon a8 strange that he should in that instant have discovered what I had failed to in six weeks: but I replied, testily onongh, * You are such s kecn obsorver, per- haps you can folve our enigma in six minutes, thongh we have bean six weeks ascertaining we knew nothing.” # Ah? is there anything remarksble about the lady beyond her white Liair aud yonng face ? For my part, L preier & little golden-haired fairy liko this!" and he suatched up little Marian King ns she came running in from the lawn. - The child waa very.beautifal, but quite unlike her mother. Absurd 48 the thought was, I could not help comparing her Saxon beant+ with tunt of the typical Englishman, who held her aloft for a moment, then smothering Ler with kissos, placed her on her feet. ‘- What is your name " “Marisn King.” : I do not kmow what possessed me, but I langh- ed end said, * It ought to be Marian Wentworth ; sho looks mora like you than her mother.” Tho little one an away,shaking her glit- tering curls. Wontworth laughed a little low laugh—a shade of bitterness in it, I thonght—as ho enid, **I am alone in the world ; no living be- ing claims kinship with me.” Frfo words ocliood sadly enongh i ‘myown heart, and I thought of her who was to me now in these few weeks the one woman in the world, befors whom I would bave laid my love, my heart, my lifc —perhnps uot 8o worthless, cither, as 1y plain exterior and gray bair ‘might imply; for, by God's grace, lioart, life, and soul havo ever been as pure and ~lean as hetits one believes the body to bo the templo of the living God. Mra. Ring scldom left Ler room after this. ¢ Christie was rot go well,” Marian eaid. I visited tho child soveral times. It was ovident Lo was failing rapidly. I folt sure he would not see the merry Christmas-tide of which he loved tosing. Whcre was en indefinable chenge, too, in Mrs. King. Often as I looked at her I thonght of ~ enow-crowned voleanoes, and dreaded the devastation that “might be boded. An' indefinablo terror scem- ed closing in .bpoh. s, Without the least Aua- picion of the truth, I resolved to wait, to bido my time, and cither shake off the morbid fancy of an idlo brain, or stand ready to help and com- fort the woman whom I loved in the trial hefore her. My room was on ithe lower floor, the only sleeping apartment tuore, the offices, dining, and" billiard rooma ccsupying tho remainder. I had just waked from my sfternoon nep, and lay thero revolving ail mannor of poski- bilities' and impoesibilities ; wondering if the boating party had returned; where Mr. King might be ; whether sho would accept an old “man's kezrs and home ; thankful that my simplo Liabits had allowed the fortune of earlier days to nccumaulate fo ebsolute wealth, valued now only that I might give it to bar. A vision of a home with & young gray-haired quecn flitted before mo. and Christie’s quistor glee. voice, her voira, not far away, but close at hand, fell oo my dresming car. Icould almost dis- almost, koor littlo Marian's laugh, A voice, a dear 1 couls tinguish the words. What i sho saying ¢ It it no dream; it is Mrs. King speaking: I farther off than the rocks and islands that | promise. Not here, motnow ; not within the | ‘bounded onr seaward viow. walis that shelter my innocent. helpless We were neither of usmuch given to talk, | children.” . . and that little wes usually assertive rather than interrogative. One day, however, my curiosity got the better of my judgment aad good-breed- {og, and I said, “ Chriatie, is your father coming soon " The child replied, “I never had any except my Father in heaven I aay my prayers to.” For a weok aftersard I lost my little compan- jon. It was intangibls, but the wall of eepara- tion between the mother and myself grew thick- er and colder. My heast fairly achied with mor- tifieation and chagrin, for Iam a harmless old ‘bachelor. After s whila she seemed to feel B0 £00, and tho ice melted enough for her to see that I meant no harm, and for me to feel eho trusted me again. Yes thers was ever a reserve tho most au- dacious could not trespass upon. What eho ave out was from the intellect only, I think f never met & woman so_ versatile in conver- sation, eo thoroughly well read on all sub- Jects—eversthing discussed in a general war, without any tinge of personality or anything fo suggest where, when, or with whom ehe had scquired her varied information—so quict, &0 unostentatious: ever the sought, mever tho seeker. " I thick we Lad been foseiher about six weeks; I had not advanced a step furtber, and was beginning to doubt myeelf and my theory. There was oniy the voice and the rare tremulonsness of the lips, that ought to have been full and red instead of tichtly closed. nize the voice, save thatit wa# a man's. reply camo clear and distinct; tho lowest tones of her voico, with all its sweetness and pnritr, had always anincisive my closed blinds. cliildren wero in the low Bving ; Wentworth and The answer I coald not distinguish, nor recog- Her aliay quality, even in tho faint- €8t Whispers : : “I will rcet you at midnight.” 1 wax nunh with surprise and pain. She, my paragon, My Queen among women, purer, colder th:an the éiernal snows, making & valgar assignation with 8 Iaver, or one at least who kad a hold over her, a power that compelied com- pliance! There =as that in her voico thet was not love, not aven the passion Eo often Iis- numed. 1 wanted to ece how khe wouldlook. I harried throogi my toilet, znd. on reacuing the voranda foand her srated with her writing just outsido. She was guite alone ; tho Guifield wore on the croquet-gronnd knockiug the Lalls about. : e it 8 dresm? Was the might on the balcony & dresta? Icou'® mot tell. Tho reins et firmly held: the lips perhaps a trifflo more closely pressod, the faco s colorless, as intense- Iy calm, 24 ever. “T conld not bear the thousand torturing thonghts, «cemed an insult to the pure scal I knew 1hoksd forth from those decp gray eves—eyes tha: I almost fancied lcoked yearningly up to wine for an iustant, with that mute eloquuzco that tells the hunger of s soul perishing in the midst of plenty. I could not bear it. I would not watch hor. Iwonld not even go to my room. lest again I shonld become an unwilling eavesdropper. How the evening wore away cannot tall. By half-past il the house was still— T and two others waking and watching. Wha was the third? The thought was maddening; the &ir in my room seemed’ stifling. Throwing my traveling rug overmy arm, I started deter- minedly for the Long Beach. . It would be low tide at 12 ; the farther seaward point of Pinnacls Rock would be bara: the night tine for the phosphorescent effect on the water; the sea-anemones wonld be in view. I had never told snyono of the fairysightshidden from mortal eyes savo on wuch a night and with such a tide. My favorite nook was a deep water-worn hollor, * where one would be quite invisible except frous tho sea. 1 would not let my thoughts stray back to tho place I had left. I would commune with the Eternal, the Infinite, the Unchanging. Tha Waves, a8 the rose and fell, were like emotions, leinfians of the soul, reaching forward illimit- i ably, it would seem ; then comes the fiat, “*Thus far, aud no farther "—backward. downward, ro- luctant, yet inevitablo in_ily desertion, lenving the ragged rocke, the desolate, barren sands. Was it the murmur of waves or of Luman voicea that came to e on the night wind, neares and yet nearer? Her voice again ! g 1 will not hear you. Forgivoyou? Naver,' this side the grave,- Why you_pnirsue me, why you forture me o relentlessly, I knownot. Yoir have wronged me and mine s only a man cun, wrong a woman end her helpless children. Tam alone in tho workl; but God Lins opened n way, and I will walk in it. You cannot injuro m; [ bhave none. cinl_position. My children, shall never know my wiong. unless yow force ma to disclosa it Wien you look o that helpless one. recall your med. jealous fur; Remember the pitileas storm in which you drove me forth, with Marian in my srms end the ua- boru resting beneath eart, taunting mo with a revelation of the blsckest deed of your bladk life—a mock-marriage with the trusting wirl who broko her old fathess Leart by her desertion <& Lis dreary, loneiy home for the falso warmtn' in the of your love! o bas forgiv Herven from which o looks down on 1. of strugglo and bitter anguish. Forgive When: you restoro my lost - youth, whes fii\'s back my faith and hope, when com your lost lifa, then euk for forgivene: “Marian, you wrong fe. Unceasingly for fiva long years have I sought you, to retract tle falkehiood born of jealous,druuken rago. Mari you loved mo thon. Coma back and take 2 he name no other womnn will ever have to wear." " “Do you think Ihavo f: I love you, Christopher W 0 loug ago, I bave to take Did It ia | your word for it. Love you now? T would tear my heart out if I thought it held ono tender thought to- en Ho low! tworth 2 ward you! I will not listen to you. Iam not in this place ot this hour to hear you recall the past, but to speak myself of tho futnre—to do- maud as the only possible reparation for that ast that von leave mo and my children ummo- ested. Thank Heaven, my boy never drew or.a breathi of Lis father’s nativoair! Tho land of. refage whoro I gavo him birth has given mo work for willing bends aud brain : it is our home. Of sou woask notlung but silenc and furgetful- nesa,"” “Iferian, Marian! will you not hearmo? I have wandered over the carth with tho brand of - Cain opon my hesrt, if not upon my brow. I Lnve nover ceased hoping, belioving, in our: meeting, in your forgivencss. 3y temperis my, inhoritance; God knows if it isnot almost iu- samty! 1 loved you honorably, truly. I mar-, ried you Lonestly, truly. Yon aud no other aro’ my lawful ~ wedded wife. In my drunken,’ calous .frenzy I lied to you. I was ' rute, 5 madman. When I camo to myself vou had disappeared. From that hour till) T saw you on the balcony I have mever! ceased my search, nor found one trace of you. I cannot, hopo for forgivoness to-dav nor fo-mor=; row; lat me win tho love that you gave me in | the 'first flush of yonth and beauty. I will not: ask you to bear my name until it seems to you s worth the besring—till you can lay your hand in mine, and willingly, gladly eay, * My hasband !’ Tho ‘glasa thet mrde me n fiend and cursed - your life held tho last drop that will ever pnss my lips. I have made a vow before Pigh Btaven. Nevor will I enter tho states Iy halls that now are mine till you walk! proudly by my side. Do not siswer mo| now. in the stillness and silence of your room, - with the little ones—our littlo ones—nestling in your arms, think of the happy homte, the long Jears of peace and love, that yot may bo in stora forus!” g A vivid flash of lightning and the low mutter- ing of thunder, unobserved till now, warned, them of the approaching storm. The drops wero falling thick and fast ag they hastened for shelter. I was glad to bo released and follow = & safo diatance the retreating figures. My romance was battorod. Was thers s melodrama, or was there o tragedy, in store? Tfow tho storm raged! How pitilessly it beat on the shell of a summer-honse, shakiug it to is vory foundations! Tho heavens out constant sheet of tlame—the thunder onme continuoud roar. No wouder tho ancicats termed such war of the clements tho battles of tho gads! after Lour it lasted, incrcasing rather than dis minishing. Tho entries wero filled with half- dressod women and childron, swo-struck uta silonce. One crash, o flasly that blinded every one aud = piorcing €hrick thnt roso high sbove the storm. “The house is 217 GTE g on fire!” “In theleft wing!” thero?” “Noone.” * Yoe. Mra. K 1do not know how I reachied the room, uor. what blind instinct taught mo tho shortest vry. A few precions moments were Jost hefore I conld Dreak open the door. 3r:. King lay scuscless on the tlaor, &till in her wet clothes. Marian was calling vainly on mamma!” I raised the death- like form and_bore her in my arms through tho blinding mole, down the shattered staircase, little Marian clinging to her still. I carried ber to my room, aud applied hastily such re- storatives as were' at hand. In a fow moments ber oyes slovls oponed, Ler lips tremblod. s Christie safe 7" God forgive me, 1 had forgotten the crippled, holpless child ! 1 rushed once more_to the scone of disaster. A crowd liad guthered, watehing engerly, earneat- 15, for sometling, tome one. A glimpso at tho window of a stalwart figure with & child in his erms! Nolsdder! no trellis] he must try the stairway, ond that is smoking and crackling ! Will tho engines ever como * ‘Lhio stairway falls, and Lath are Luried iu the mins. Floods of water now, bat they avail nothirg snve to preserve unmarred the fair Saxon facs aud the child 8o liko Lis mother. “Tu it well with y child 2" o It i well with thy clild.” “Why do you not brivg Lim to me 2" X could not tell herwhy : the prophotic shadow of Lier soul gave suswer. “ Tako mo to him. I can beer it.” The old Labit of weli-coutrol came back. She loaned upon my ana, snd silently followed whither I would. Ono _instant’s paueo beforo tho door that Lid 8o much that had beon dear to, d those whem death heds lay ou the strong, ud thrown over tie neck in a clitging embince 3 the lo ing arme atill frmly claspsd their tressuro. A emils of peace nud Leaul cither face, au though iu th: death receguition had b indeed fonnd bis futl: Marian stood for a moment as one ttunnee T do not think it was possible at firss enure tako in the fact before ber. Her darluny b Lus father's ans, both in the cold cmbr: death! Haud he uot redecis not given Ler faith and Loy better things than vouths and beau she not forgive? Two living arms enfold the dead: rain down upon the. cold Wl tenderncey, the love, nte desolation of Ler Lusiband ! ‘There is little moro t sloep Christopher W rian Wentworth is more liks Heaven tucn c freely given, thy und lov : £00tho BVCEY SOLTOW Wi ‘there was desolation, God bas not alone, nor will el be, theukh zeign in 8 bappy home of Ler the mother, looks ktill to the Lea where tho huskand of Ler youth, y of their love, awal ing Lud forg.vea. Z Harper's Magaziwe for April. ng, yrotect~. fouid rested on Do run through aif crzated tuii, And dormant hope, Awake wilhiz, wh 1hold him gusitleas w50 may cru- A wotan's hears, or love's ddro 1 hiold her foolish who nuay trost 1n t2an, or to bis love aspire. 2 aud 1, Am just as much # counteifv Cuicaco, Morch 24, 1eid. Cecitie Laxapoy