Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, June 22, 1873, Page 11

— e THE CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE: SUND. _ AMONG THE SIERRAS, = Agriculture Under Difficul- ties---Frontier-Cabing--- Wounding a Bear. Panning-Out——Cleaning-Up-—Indian Raid—Manzanitay—- Wyamet, Crow Indian DMourning---Placid Aborigines--Killdeer--Pur- = loining a Ham. TFrom Our Own Correspondent, ATraNTIC CrTY, W. T., June 11, 1673, At last we are getting some good weather, and the mountain-region is becoming endurable, so faras warmthis concerned. There aromany piles of snow in the gorges, and all of the bigher peaks in tho Wind - River chein are cov- ered with great fields of snow, which look ghost- Iy enongh under the dark blue sky. It isno Joke to see snow in June, and, thongh it may bo ll very woll to talk about, is, in practice, as dis- asgrecable a8 anything can be. To talk of raising crops way up here 18 PREPOSTEROUS. A few sickly-looking turnips and potatoes may be raised if great caro is exercised, and, when a man has succeeded in getting a potato as large 28 8 hen's egg, he feels as big a8 if ho had found & gold mine. But real bona-fide crops are out of the question ; the weather is altogether too cold, and the altitude too grest. A man might just about es well try to raiso japonicas on ths eide of an icoberg. Green vogetables are almost unknown, and = 1suky-looking onion-sprout is considered vegetablo curiosity. Men grow eloquent whilo epesking sbout it, and carry it from houso to houso, a8 if it were a veritablo trophy. All this may be pitiful enough, but it is unquestionably true. Miners would consider a dinner—such as slmost eny well-to-do farmer in the East sits down to every day of the world—ihe greatest #1ay-ont ” that ever was seen in the tide of “Time. Canned stuff is the stronghold of a miner, and enough old tin cans are found in the vicinage of his cabin tolook as if it had once ‘been s tin-shop. All sorts of stuff are putup in these cans, some of which is very good, and rome decidedly the reverse. A MINER'S CARIN 35 mot the neatest place in the world, and, if it is sufficiently well built to keep out the snow and sportion of the rain, is considered to be well enough for all practical purposess A rough bunk occupies one side; s hugo chimnay another; while two or three rough stools and a pine table constitute, as & gen- eral thing, all the furniture. Of course, there are & few cooking “ utensils,” and tin-plates, Imives, and forks. The main attraction of the csbin, bowever, is & pack of cards,—called & deck of cards,—which, from long use, have be- come lop-eared and flimsy. Games of cards are a never-failing source of delight to the mining population, and it is difficalt to eay what they would do were thoy deprived of this kind of amusement. A couple of hunters wont out in the moun- 4ains & fow days since, and found the snow very deep. The saw nothing except an elk and A GRIZZLI-BEAR. Mr. Grizzly received s shot in the shoulder, and at once ran toward the hunters, who stoor zeady for bim with their Sharp’s carbines. Ho came within sbout & rod of them, ~when, considering *‘ discretion .the better part of valor,” he turned and ran o if the T'ates ‘were after him. Into the snow he went, and, thongh several shots were fired, he got off, and probsbly joined bis kindred in one of the wooded Favines. He is said to have becn alarge bear, and Hhis action on his part ia something upaccount- able. Usually, when wounded, the grizzlies be- «come very fierce, and attack anything that comes .in their way. Hunters are aware Of tlix, and for this reason thoe two who were out together ‘#iood waiting his approach, and did not fire their rifles, 8 they wero not sure they would not bs called npon to help oneanother. Thegrizzly bear 18 the most savago of sy animal in Americs, snd the wounds 4 have seon made by them upon . joman beings were dreadful. The hunters have B wiolesome dread of thom, and, unless they bave decided edvantage, give them a wido erth. i “After all, there is & great deal of pleasure in goxp-DisaiNg Sigih in plesgant weather, The miners are & - Hesctod Tatm.of peoplo, aud all of them work with & vim. After the surface-dirt is removed, 1he gronnd nndernesth is found to contain gold, and the blue clay beneath this ground is sowe- times called ** bed-rock,” although there is no such thing as rock about it. Themen take their mining-pans, which are made of iron, somewhat gmaller and more shallow than & bread-pan, and into it three or four shovelfuls of dirt are thrown, when the pan is cerried to tho water, and the washing-process commencos. With both hands the miner throws in water, at the eme time mulching the mass, and throwing out the larger stones, aiter they bave been carefully washed, g0 that no gold adheres to them. Next the smaller stones and mud are washed over, and there remaine a considerable amount of fine biack gand, in which thero are some coarse pieces of stone, The washing. is continued some time longer, when, at_the bottom of the pan, are found five or 8ix pieces of gold, varying ffom the size of a head of s Ein to & solid chunk as big as the end of a man’s ittle finger. Of conrse cach panful varies, some containing a valuable amount of yellow metal, - whils others contain nothiog at all. It is this - very uncertainty that makes this occupation Bo 1 exciting and interesting. - Overhead are & long iine of eluice-boxes, in ~which the dirt is thrown, and 8_stream running through the boxes washes the dirt without fur- “ther tronble, In the bottom of the boxes-are ~hat are cslled ‘rifflcs,” made of iocca‘ of 086 .plank bored full of auger-holes. B ien » . quantity of quickailver is placed, and o of gold that passes over tho ‘quickeilver is immedistely absorbed therein, and t might the whole mass is taken out when tho niners ¢ clean up.” The quicksilver is driven € oy heat, and 5 nugget of gold is left in the bo, O of the retort. Miners make from TOUR TO TWENTY DOLLARS 4 day, «2d, if they could work all the time, or at least s, "0od portion of the timo, during the sear, Wouid 4 *sery well. But, in this section, it i3 impossibje #0 work out during the winter-ses- son; and, ;0 Suwmmer-time, there is a great seariity of wa,tr. At tho ead of oneof the gulches there s 70 ti:reo fine quartz-mills, all of Which will be 1 \@Ring goon. One of them has xlready been in o, “OFBLOD this spring, with suc- ceasfal resulis, No'sman can predict how much gold will bo taken o, buf tho prospect is very fair indeed at present, And we onght to wish the iners the begt of luck, £6 &ll of them deserve it. A few evenings since, 2 A PARTY Op® ZXDIANS » et threo white men wh.9 ¥ore endeavoring to catch » horse,—they, in { @ mesntime, having left their team and wagon 5.'¢nding in the road, the guns of the party, w'ith 5 considerable Ix;ms of stores, being in the wagon. The red- ekine got between the wagon #nd the white e, cut the traces of the harness, And rode off, taking with them four horses and one needle- gun. The white men, who were nmrmeéil, ge- crefod themeelves aa best they could uni the Indians went away. The nexé morning, as soou as the report was made to him, Col. Brackett, commanding 8t Canp Stambaugh, sent out fifteen men of the Becond Cavalry, under Lient. Frank U. Robin- 20n, to endeavor to overtake the savages, and, if: posaible, recover the stolen property. The Iodisng had fully fifteon hours’ start, sud, though Mr,. Farish accompamed the pariy 18 Fuide, the trail was loet, and could not be dis- - tovered. - Old mountaineers and Indians follow tho hoof-prints of the horses on the ground, iclled @ trail; but, in this _instance, : the groundhad become Liard after the late raius, : ind it was impossible to_discover the lenst trace : Or sign after he horses had gone three miles : trom the spot where the depredations were com- It was impossible to tell what Indizus “%ero the thieves in this instance, they. having wcaped go adroitly and expeditionsly, <On the mountains are large patches of - v MANZANITA-WOOD, : itich T at firet supposed was mogntain-laurel, L ¥tdound my mistake on & closer inspection. 1. ""5W%00d is gnarly and crooked, with o sorrated I Ganinch ands'half or two inches long, and bal, * 8D iuch wide. It lics mearthe ground,— mor, Vilkes vine than s bush,—and presents B neat appearance from & distance. It is the same, or nearly the same, as the manzanita, or little-applo wood, of the Pacific Coast, thongh much smaller—the winds and storms having dwarfed and stunted its growth in this section, As the days become warmer, the hill-sides are becoming covered with a beaufiful green coating; and our old and much-abaved stand-by, s = gl THE SAGE-LRUSI, i6 trying to_put on airs and look green and beeutiful. I have n respect for sage-brush, though no love for it, and think any shrub that has tho hardihood to grow on the elevated pla- tesux and sloping sides of the Rocky Mountains is entitled to words of praiso. For thousends and thousands of miles, the sage-brush, or artemisia vulgaris, asserts its dominion, and, like & poverty-stricken mountaineer, makes the best show it ‘can under adverse circumstances. 1t throws many & gracoful ehadow over uusight- ly basaltic cliffs, and shows its pale-green foliage amid the clinkers and gravel of tho yawning gorged. It iga gpindling plant in most Jocali- ties, though I havo soen it, in Northern Nevada, essume almost the proportions of an apple-tree. When Milton Bublette went through this countrr, forty years ago, Lo bad with him a half- ‘breed Indian named Wyamet, whose mother was & Chickasrw. This man was inducod, by some Crow Indiaus, to desert the service of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company aud join the Crows. He bad eeveral children by a Crow wife, and lately I met one of them who was roaming about seck- ing employment a8 a guide. This man mot with A SINGULAR ACCIDENT, near the falls of tho Yellowstoue, s5ome ¢wo years 880, and is now suffering from 1ts effccts. It appears that he was endeavoring to croes the river ona fallen troo, which reachod ont some ‘digtanco in tho water, and, while so doing, the tree rollod over, and ho was immediately plung- ed beneath the fonming tide. He siruggled as ol as ho was ablo, and, a8 ho approached the shioro, met an onormous grizzly-bear. No sooner bad tho grizzly gained & sight of him than ho bocame perfectly furious with rago, and at once charged upon tho unforfunate Crow, tearing tho flesh in shrods, and break- ing his shoulder-blade with his teeth. ‘When he reuched the shors,he was *a well- plucked Crow” indeed. Ho was faint and badly frightened, as well ho might be; but, with & groat and detormined effort, he tore Limself Ioose from the jaws of the monster, and made his escape. His arm is still very sore, but ho will eventually recover the use of it, I thiuk, and may come out as good as new. He tells mo that his father, Wyamot, is still living near tho Crow ‘Agency, near the Yellowstone, and, year sinco, made & long journey up in_the British Posscs- sions, going as far'as the North Branch of the Baskatchawan River. T saw Wramet at the Agency on Boulder Creek, & branch of the Yellowstone, soma yours ago. At that time the favorite daughter of Iron Buil had died, and & GENERAL SCENE OF MOURNING was anvnlag;u.\g the whole tribe. Several of the young men had been killed whilo out on a war- ‘party sgainst the Sious, and they bdd brought in some Sioux scalps. The mourning was of & eculiar charactor,—tho men cuiting off the Yaints of their fingers, and the women tearing out their hair, gashing their bressts with knives, and daubing their faces over with pitch. When Iron Bull's daughter died, he burnt his lodge, killed his horses, and destroyed most of his property. The young girl's body was ewath- od in red flannel, and loftupon a platform, which was built on the top of some high poles, The death-songs which were sung by the Indians ‘were of the saddest character. The low wail of my would be succeeded by the wildest shrieks of despair, and this, too, at the dead hour of night, when the wind was sighing through the trees and bushes, and the gaunt limbs of the cottonwoods swaying sbout like spectres. I never witnessed a more dreadfnl scene of mourn- ing, mor one which seemed to have seized upon ovur{ member of the tribe as this had. All of the red men of, the Far North haves comparatively EASY TIME OF IT. They can generally take *’""éfi of game ; have good and sufficient lodges, which they prefer to ouses ; and, in fact, are well supplied with ev- erything which is deemed nocessary by savages. Their wants are fow and simple, and, unless maddened by whiaky, or tho dreadf: which are evoked on the war-path, take s cheor- ful and contented view of life. Indisns love their ease, and it requires considerable of an ef- fort to get into a first-class passion; conse- quently these poople are, as a general thing, the mildest and most placid of the human race. To loll about in the sun, and whittle awsy at an ar- Yow with & big butcher-knife, is thoir idea of cate and plonsuro; and no man_ever used_a knife more awkwardly than an Indian does while Whittling; but, at the same time, with all this seeming awkwardness, tho Indians carve some really bosutiful and dainty things. A white man cuts from him, whereas an Indian invaria- bly cuts towards bimself, resting the pioco of wood ho is cutting on hin breast. At evening the air is filled with » kind of plover called KILLDEER, which fiy about calling to ono anothor, appar- ently in the grestest glec and excitement. ‘Ihey swarm near a creek which has overflown its banks, and, after they have flown about to their hearts’ content, congregate in the mud and on the greensward, where they chatter away and bob their heads as if they had a great deal of busincss on hand. They fiy rapidly through the air, circling about, first one placo avd then another, and always in & great hurry. I cannot imaging why they reccived the name of Killdeor, unless it is their peculiar cry, which sounds something like that word. I see no fat-hoaded and big-beaked ravens hereabout. Perbaps thoy are hidden away in the nooks and corners, awaiting tho death of eome animal, so that they can have their usual feaet. These ravens are great thieves, and romind me of A DABREY IN INDIANA +who stole s ham and was going off with it, when he was discovered by the proprietor of the house, who went after him. He soon over- took the necgro, and asked him what bo wags doing with the ham. The darkey was somewhat taken aback; but, recovering himself in & short time, ke remarked: ¢ De fact is, dis is wrong, but—if you won't say nuftin about it, I won't! ™ This secmed 8o easy a way of settlin the difficulty that Mr. B— took the ham an marched homo with it. Two mon who are working in Spring Gulch took out 50 worth of gold each on Friday last; three others took out two ounces on Thursday, st the samo place; o theso mines are a long way from being played out, and will probably YTELD MORE THIS YEAR than they have for soveral years past. Evory- body in the neighborhood of Miner's Delight seems to be in good spirits, and a majority of the men are going to work with a will. It only nooda determination and labor to make thess mines as productive as any in the Union. At presontthey ‘aro under a cloud, for somo reason or other, but are bound to come out all right in the end. Tt is & singular fact that gold-miners will, as & general ting, quit gold-mining to go off to the silver mines, and, in consequence of this, many miners have drifted from this scction to the silver-lodes of Utah. But, by and by, they will come straggling back, and’ this country will be ‘botter than ever. ArLGEBRA, . T S THE SARATOGA WATER-SPIRIT. A RECENT POEM BY MBS, WALWOBTH, WIFE OF THR AURDERED AL T. WALWOBTH, O summer friends ! who love me well ‘When roses wreath my brow, Let your gay thoughts with pleasure dwell On me while robed in sa0w. Twill rest your heart, o'erworn with care or jos, To think on labors that my powers employ, With cesseless pationce I have lain Boneath stern winter's rod, In mystic labyrinths, with psin T've wronght below the sod The wonders that reveal themselves for you In sparkling fountains, yielding virtues true, E'en a8 your dancing feet are rife With effervescent joy, That bubbles o'er an carnest lifo, Which timo cannot destroy, SoT these dancing tountains lightly fiing ) ‘Above tho toilsome depths from which they spring. Long ages, with untiring skill, T've brought each stone and salt, And wrought them to my purposed will, That doth work exalf, To make in this new world a fount of health, Freo to the sons of toil as those of wealth, And when I found my work was good, 1 called a Iaughing eprite, And bid her sing in merry mood Amid my fountains Lright. Her breath remained, transfized with magic power, ‘And lent them life and beauty from that hoar. e lalnd i o AT Ants in Brazil. 1In Brazil they have & very disagreesble species of ants. They como in countless numbers, fre- quently iaking posseesion and overrunning & dSolling, when in their track, driving the in- mates therefrom, and destroying everything eat- ablo on the premises, When eeen approaching thoy can only be stopped, or. the Lead of the column turned, by fire; they will succeed in passing every othar barrier. A traveler alluding to them, eays : ** On ascending the Corcovardo, e discoverod & colony of them orossing the sosdwey high up on the mountains. They were coming from sbove, crossing the road, sod de- gcending on the other side. They camo in & folumn three or four inches wide, thick s they could be packed, and rushing along with great Fapidity. " How long they hug ul passions | been passing be- | fore we saw them s, of course, unknown, bt four hours later the stream was unsbated and scemingly exhaustless. We found it impossible 1o break the line without it being immediately reformed. They seemod to know by instinct tho direction taken by those passed, and never de- viated in the slightest from the proper route. The attempt was also attended with some incon- veuience, if great caro was not taken; for the Btrenm never stopped; it kept gum—ing down, and in a very short time you fonnd yourself sur- ronnded, and in some danger of being .ovarrnn, if not captured yourself. It issaid they will re- morve the flesh from the carcass of an ox or horso gnhn. fow hours, loaving tho bones perfectly pol- ished.” e LITERARY NOTES. Rumor says that Stedman and Aldrich together are to make & book about Landor, - : —There is & report that Bret Harte intends to take up his permanent rosidoncs in England. —Anthony Trollope's next novel will be called “ Phineas Rodux."” : —Donn Pistt is to write the life of Gew. Jos Hooker. —The latest London novels are_ * Willing to Die,” by Mr. LoFanu, and * A Slip in the Fens "’ and “ Reginald Bramble,” the two latter pub- lished enonymously. = —Mrs. Mary J. Holmes has completed still another novel. —A Londoncorrespondent writesthat “Ouids,” the sensational novelist, has a celestial nose, a crosa oye, a superfluously liberal mouth, and & cynical and bitter tongue. —Hepworth Dixon, the Athen@um states, will shortly leave for Americs, to deliver a conrse of loctures upon the Spanishi Bepublic and the new German Empire. —The Princess Mathildo Bonaparte has writ- ten a novel, called “ The Lady of the Rubies,” which is much praised by her frionds, as Prin- cessos’ novels are apt to bo, and which will scon bo published, s that the public may be abla to judge how noarly right hor frioudly critica aro in their judgmont of tho lady's book. —The Pall Mall Gaztle says of Mrs. Grote's biography of the historian Of Greece: “Tho lifo before us is, in truth, first, s memoir of the couple; secondly, of the lady; thirdly,of the philosopher. Thoro aro st least three letters of tho lady’s to one of tho gentloman's.” —-In upeaking of tho cansoa which lod to the Iata civil war, Jofferson Davis rocently said to » correspondent: *‘I am proparing a work with all tho impartiality possible to mo, and * after years of sober thought, which shall not leave the world in darkness as to my motives and to my conduct, or that of thoso who scted with mo.” —Mr. G. Ebers, a distinguished Egvptologist, s purchased, st Thobos, & remarkable medical hierntic papyrus. It consists of 155 pages, and treats of most maladies tho flesk s heir to, from an Egyptian point of view. More reliance ssems to have been placed on exorcisms than medi- cines, and no scale of foos is attached. —A Now York letter says: * New York is go- ing to hiave a quarterly réview which is expected to run the North American off the track. Itis to bo called the International Review, to be edited by the Rev. Dr. J. M. Leavitt, and pub- lished by A. 8. Barnes & Co. - Material for the first number, which will sppear early in the autumn, has already becn gathered. President eCosh will bo o contributor, and I hear that Cherles Francis Adams has promised to farnish & paper on tho Genoya Conferonce.” 'ho Green Bay ddrocale, instesd of carefully nursing the local poatic geniua at and abont tha Bay, makes for to crush it in the following un- kind paragraph: “ Porsons contemplating send- ing us_poetry on ‘Summer Sweets,’ and sim- ilar subjects, will please do it at their earliest convenience, 88 we propose to make a ship- ment of paper rags to the mills about the 14th of June.b —The British Quarterly hasan elaboratoarticle on the Monotheism of Paganism. It traces all the religions back to the worship of Light. It even gives a disgram like s genalogical res, which shows the ancestry of the various creeds. It makes Judsism, or the worship of Jehovah, one of the oldest branches, but does not follow downits offshoot Christianity. It does, how- ever, trace Mohammedanism to a mingling of Chaldaic and Judaio ideas. su—Lbo most eurlous correspondence, perhaps in which John Stuart Mill was ever engagod waa & discussion which he carried on for some months in French (a lsngusge which he talked and wrote fluently snd admirably) with Auguste C-mts, rospecting women. The sxalted opin: ion which Mill held of the sex is well known, and Comte controverted it by maintaining that * the intelligence of women smonnted at best to only & smell ingtantancous sagacity.” —Tho first volume of tho now revised Ameri- ean Cycloomdia is in_stock at the Apploton's, and wiill_be published, by subscription, mext month. It is of a much handsomer stylo than the old edition. The publishers are determined to keep each volumo up to date of issue, and stopped the press on_their first volume to incor- porate under ‘*Arctic” thonews of the * Po- laris.”” It is proposed to issuc s volume every two months, which will bring the last within the your 1875. —For the preservation of_old manuscripts wa have chiefly to thank our friends the monks, to whom the book-stealer was an object of horror. “*This book belongs to St. Mary of Robarta- bridge,’ is written 1 Latin in & work in the Bodloian; ‘whoever shall steal it, or sell it, or in any way alienato it from tho house, or mati- Inte it, lot him bo Anathems-maranaths. Amen.’ And undorneath is written by snother hand: ‘1, John, Bishop of Excter, know not where the aforcsaid Louse is, nor have I stolen this book but I heve scquired it in & lawfui way.'" “ Another of such subscriptions ends thus : ¢ Whosoever removes this volume from this con- vent may tho anger of the Lord overtake him in this world, and in the mext to all eternity. en. —The celebrated library of the late M. Serge Sobolenski, of Moscow, is to be_bronght to e hammer ddrivg the next month. It contains a fine collection of works on America. It boasts alfo of a copy of “ De Dry's Voyages,” ssid to De tho finest and most perfect in the world. The collection of De Bry consists of travels in the Enst and West Indies, in twenty-five folio parts, published between the years 1590 to 1634 in- clusively. The finest copy of this work is that which was made up st great expense by Mr. Grenville. Col. Stanley Lad s fine copy which wag purchissed by the Duke of Devonshire for £546. The Fonthill Abboy copy, supposed to be erfeot, brought 200 guinexs. The Abbe de othelin’s copy was sold in London in 1790 for £210, and again in Paris to Mr. James Lenox, of this city, for 12,000 francs. Tho Russian copy to besold is in Latin, German, and French. —Young Irdies who find a difficulty in decid- ing on the merits of thoir suitors will do well to study an_Indian novel entitled ‘‘ Miragnama,” published in Punjaubee for five annas, described 88 the tale of & highly sccomplished, pions, and beautifal young lady, dsughter of & King of Chine professing fhie Mohammedsn religion, who biad taken & vow to marry him alone who equaled Ler in learning and in piety. To test the proficiency of her many suitors, she had pro- pared & certain number of questions relating chiefly to morality and religion. The book con- tains these subjocts of oxamination, together with tho answers by one of her suitors, who evontually succeeded in obtaining her hand. There is no 'good reason why the competitive system of examination should not be adopted in the case of all matrimonial candidates of the male persussion. Care, however, shonld be taken to reject thoso who have merely been crammed for the examination by husbands with experience a8 to the treatment of wives, and who ‘would no doubt establish classes for indoctrinat- ing their pupils with that canning for which vile man is proverbisl, and which sccounts in great measure for the low estimation in whick he is now generally held by gifted woman. —’J.gha correspondence which I sent mfi be- tween Hayward and another aboat Mr. 3ill hes led on to other letters and replies which are ‘privately printed and circulated and creste con- siderable excitement about the clubs. D. V. Christie, Esq., formerly English Minister in Brazil, gefting hold of Hayward's calumnious letters, wrote to its author a courteous remon- stranco. Hagyward roplied saying that he had nothing to retract. istio then wroto & fu- rious letter, denying Hayward's right to be here- sfter trested as a_ gentleman. I here that Hayward intends to bring this correspondenco before the Athenmum Club, and demand the expulsion_of Christio. 1f fthis nffair had oc- curred in France a half dozen duels would haye occurred out of it. Notwithstanding Hayward's artial retraction, his original letter is still be- ing circulated with & view of poisoning the minds of influential people against 21ill, and I regret to eay thero is rosson fo fear that Glad- stone has beon meek enough to become intim- idatod, and is likely to withdraw from the Com- ‘mittee formed to prepare some fit memorial in honor of the deceased philosopher, On the other hand & number of prominent persons have, a3 &_method of vindication, hastened’ to accept invitations to join tho Committee—Prof. Dain, Thomas Hare, Lady Amberley, Mrs. Grey, Mise' Cobbe, Mrs. Dr. Garrett Anderson, the Duke of Argyll, Lord Houghton, the Dean of Westminster,~ Profs. Tyndall, Huxley, and Ceirns, Arthar Arnold, Herbert Bpencer, W. T. Thornton, and Prof. Fatwcott wore alresdy on it. It is probable that this Committee will issue & memorial popular edition of Mill's * Political Economy.” and of his “Logic,” and propose a bust of in Westminster Abbey. But over the Iatter there will be a fierce ght with the or- thodox.—London Correspondence Cincinnati Commercial. . - JUNE 22, 1873. 11 LOVE CONQUERS 'ALL. FEOM THE FRENGH OF BALZAC. About the commencement of the thirteenth contury there lived in the city of Paris s gold- smith, who, having corhe originally from Tours, ‘was called the “Tonrangean, though his true -name was Anselm. In consequence of his great ‘honesty snd his nonvaled skill as a joweler, he ‘became not only a proud burgess of the city, but was admitted as & retainer of the King, whose proteotion he purchased—as was the custom in those days. . He built himself & fine stone house, near the Church. of Ssint Eloi, in the strest St. Denis, whére his forge was well' known by all ‘tho admirers ‘0f fino jewelry. But, ‘thongh ~beloved by the King, pat- ropized by the noblesse, at peace with the clergy, and with a chest firmly secured with a lock of his own contriving, which said chest was well lined with gold and silver crowns, Anselm remainod a bachelor, nor had his heart ever flut- tered with the delicious throbs of love.: This was, perhaps, becanse of his early poverty; be- cause when he came up to Paris he was as poor 88 Job, and, slso, it might be the character of the man (for he was like the metals he worked in, dotermined and sot in his purposes, like hia own suvil, and downright as his own ham- mer). * Algo, he was timid, retiring, and filled foll of poctic imaginings which, instead of being rondered into dis- tiches and hemistitches, appeared in the chasing and chiselings of kLis jewels. The ardor of his nature found vent in constant labor. In the old days of his poverty, when Lo was & simple work- 'men, he labored from morning to night. As a ‘master, he labored still with tho same vigor, seeking new secrete, acquiring fresh skill, and inquiring after new invontions of overy kind. The good folks who passed through the Strect St. Denis aftor. nightfall, the revelers, or tho thieves who made the dark hours hideous in ‘those days, saw perpetually the light of & lamp streaming through the ‘cross-shaped loop-holes of the goldsmith’s house, and the good master Anselm working away, tapping, hammering, flling, chiseling, engraving, burnishing, all by himself, doors closed, ears open. Misery is the mother of ‘labor, and lsbor is the mother of woalth, * Hoar thls, yogwells of Brosdway, who burn the candle st both' ends and light your cigars with greenbacks. If ever ideas of love, if desiro of besuty at any time -entered into the Tead of the Touraugest, thoy wero eoon trans- lated " into delicate * engravings, little ‘golden figures, fine forms of silver-ware, with which he delighted the counoisseurs of tho Court. Add to this that Anselm was very naive and simple, fearing God first, then robbers, next the great ~ lords, sud tumults and seditions gapecially. Tis art was the onothing of his life, and Bny other thought was quickly: ro- pressed. Becauso of his isolation and his nat- ural timidity, the prieats and the men atarms did not think him v ‘wise because he spoke little, and when he did speak his voice was low and sweet like & woman's. But he hsd an annoy- ing way when he addressed anyone of looking at him 23if hewss far away, being indeod gen- erally abstracted by considerationa of - his art. He fnew no Latin, but his mothér French he spoke correctly. Ho had learned among the quick wits of Pasis to walk straight, to measure his expenses by his incomings, not to turn she grindstono to sharpen other people’s exes; ot to toll sverybody what ho was doing, and to do what he said; to keep his troubles to himself, also his money ; not to stand ing at the clouds in the streets, and to gell his jewels for more than they cost him. The strict observ- ance of these wise maxims had given the gold- smith so much practical wisdom that he had amassed a competency, and conld live at his ense, MMany aman, admiring his wealth, and his_ popularity, and his ekill, would say, on Seeing Wim i his work-table, * By my soul, I Souid ke to be that poldemith, even 1 bad to live in the gutter first fora year.” But it would have cost as little to have wished to be King of France, and would have profited as much, uuaing that the Tourangean was one of ten thonsand. For his arms were marvels of Btrength—so square, 80 nervous, §o musonlar, When he cloged lus fists, the strongost comrade in his shop, aided by any_implement, could not ‘have made him open his handa. Isofated as an oyster, with the strength of s bear, the appetite of a wolf, and the digestion of an oatrich, with the outward imperturbability of s rhinooeros, and with shoulders strong enough to relieve At- 1as of his load, he was the perfect image of & perfect man. : ¥ With all theso perfections, how came it about that the house of the goldsmith remained with- out a mistress ? This is what the critics asked. But did these wise gentlemen consider what it is tolove? Notat ‘The trade of a lover is not. one suitable for a pusy man. He must come and g0, listen, watch, bo silent, talk, hide himself in 8 corner, swell out like a peacock, agree, disa- gree, argue, count the spots of dust dancing in & sunbeam, seek for flowers uuder tho snow, To- stroke the cat's back, peat sonnets to the moon, ive dainty momels to the household og, ealuto tho friends of tho far ily, inquire after her munt's_gout, or ca- tarrh, or rheumatism; ssy “ You are looking well ‘this morning;” must please sll the rela- tivos, mustnot tread on anybody's corns, mor break the glasses; must bo able’ to say sweet nothings, lavish in praiee—* How good tius is;" and sgain, Really, Madsmo, you look ex- quisite in that dress.” And all these things have to be done and re-done, and done sgain ina thousand different fashions. “I'hen the lover must bo clean-ghaved, drossed in tho height of the fashion, wear fine linen snd. metaphorical pur- ple; bo ready of tongue, quick of. hand, Elow to anger, -enduring all-misadventures with & ploasant ' smile, burying deep in his heart all_rages and cholers, holding his matare in & tight leash. He must make nico littlo presouts to the mother, also to the sistor, also to the maiden sunts, also to tha waiting-maid, also to Bob, the groom ; also to Joo, who waits st tablo and opens the door, and who carrics bouquets and slips an occasional latter. And do sll this, do it well for s year, and if you slip up on & sin- gle occasion, good-byo to your liy-love. All is over with you, or has to be begun again. Therefore, the goldsmith, working \always at his table surrounded by the trophies of hia art, blowing his bellows, heating his silver, burnish- ing his gold, bad no time to make love, or waste his _time ' dancing attendsnco upon & prond woman, and cudgeling his braine to respond to her fantasies. But the Tourangean waa too much of an artist - ot to observo the besuty of the ladies of the Court and the bourgeoisio who came to bargain with him for his trinkets. Often when somo lady of reaplendent charms would have coaxed bim to lay aside some important work that he had in hand to finish for her some toy that she wanted for her birthday, or some such foolery, Anselm would return 'the Rue St. Denis fall of reveries like a poet, more desperste thana nestless cuckoo, and would say to himself, ‘I must get & wife. Bhe would sweop the houso, Jrould keop the dishos clean, would fold up the linen, would mend my clothes, would-sing like linnet through the hcuse, would torment me make her euch snd such things, would want things changed to suit her fancy, would say to me, 84 they say to their husbands when they want a bracelet, or a chain, ‘ Now, my duling, look at me with it on, Don't I look charming ? And every one in the neighborhood who looked at my wife would think of me, and would say, ¢ There 18 & happy man.’” Then the Tourangesn ‘would go on building cas- tles in the air, would get married, provide mag- nificont feass, bring home his wife, would clothe her superbly, and give her & chain of fine gold; would make her the comploto mistress of the household ; would give her for her special chamber the great room above, and would put in it windows e?ghsg, and fine grass matting on the floor, with tapestry on the walls, and a won- dorful clothes-press, and sn immenee bed- stead with twisted columns for the posts, with curiaing of price; then would buy many hand- some mirrors which would multiply the beautifal form and face that he loved so dearly. Bo fast would the good man's imagination run that be- fore ho Pn% to his forge he wss, in fancy, the father of & dozen children, the eldest girl already marrisgeabls, and the eldest boy a famous gold- emith.~ Arnved st home, these visions would disappear with every stroke of bis hammers ; his ardent imaginings, however, would find vent in his workings, and would appesr in fantastic de- signs of beantiful virgina 'mi in woods, or in groups of children playing with monsters of thesesand laud, Thio seignonrs who uschased is imaginings little knew how many lost wi and children went to these pieces of jewelry. Up to his 41st year the goldsmith remained & virgin heart ignorant of love.- One Sabbath day, wandering along the loft bank of the Seine, with bis head full of dreamsof marriage,he camo unwittingly into the meadow land, which has since been called Pre aux Clercs, but which at that time wss part of the fair domains of the Abbey of St. germnin. Walking through this meedow he stumbled snddenly pon & poor girl holding by an old mge spoor thin cow, who browsed upon the herbage close to the pathway. Secing » handsome, woll-dressed. goutlemzn 35, proaching her, she saluted him. ssying, * God pave you, Monseigneur.” Her voico Wss : that very Paris might make €0 full of sweetness, 80 musical, and g0 friendly that Anselm felt his soul vanquished the sound, and imme- 7 love with the girl, boing, a8 he was, possessed with thonghta of marriage at 1. time. Nevertheless, ho passed her without speaking, being timid to the last degree with woman, and it was notuntil he had gone by at least a bow-ehot that he reflected that a mas- ter goldsmith, !ung;: rotalner, and burgess of migh Bis bow to eny fair lady if he felt like it. Having mustered up courage, he wheeled round, and came back to the girl, who still held her cow by the cord. 4 Ah, my little one,” said_he, *you must bo very poor if you work on God's day. Are you not afraid of hemg put in prison ?” “ Monseigneur,” replied the girl, casting down her eyelids, ““I have nothing to fear, because 1 belong to the Abbey there. The Lord Abbo. has given us leave to graze the cow after ves- pors.” * Do yon love your cow better than your soul's safoty, my girl 7" o Afl, Monseigneur, this poor beast is truly the half of our poor life.” I wonder, my dear, to see you s0 poor and #0 ragged, all in tattors, and with naked feet in the fields on & Sunday, seeing that you are £o beautiful. Have nouse of the young men of the city talked of marriago to you 7" “*Ah, no, sir. I belong to the Abbey,” eaid she, showing to the goldsmith & bracelet on her left arm pot uulike that worn by cattle, but without a bell. And she smiled sadly at Anselm, who became quite melancholy with Eympathy for her sadness, “Why, what is all this ?” hs resumed, touch- ing tho- bracolet where the arms of the Abboy were clearly engraved, but which le protended not to understand. *¢Monseigneur, Iam the daughter of = slave. 8o, whoever will marry me will become a gerf, were he n burgess of Paris, snd woul belong, body and goods, to the Abbey; ana on account of this I am abandoned by 'overy onc—deserted and desolate, like 2 boast of the field. But that which grieves me most,” eaid sho, shedding & few warm tears, “gome day, when it pleases the Lord Abbot, I shall be married to another serf. Even if I wera less homely tl:an I am, no onng man would look on me a second time, after he had scen this,” touching her bracelet, * for the most amorois would fice from me aa from the black death.” Bo saying, she sighed from the bottom of her heart, and gave & little pull upon the rope, to make the cow follow her. “ And bow old are you ?” eaid Anselm. “‘1 don’t Jmow, Mongeignour, but the father Abbot has it in tho registry.” ‘This terrible misery touched the heart of the good man, who bimeelf had_eaten tlie bread of miefortune, and knew how bitter it was. DBut this was & depth of misery that he bed never dreamed of. He walked by the side of the young girl, and they went toward the Soine in complete gilence. Anselm gazed fixedly at his fomag companion, and his artist’s oye notod her wutifal Zeatures, her queenly form, the deli- cato rounding of her arms, and the bLeauty of ber baro fest, which, though_covered with dust, were small enongh for tho slipper ¢f Cinderella. Her head was emall and gracofully posed npon & Pperfect neck, all but the upper part being mod- estly covered by her frock of villain- ous material. His "veins secmed filled with love instead of blood, and his heart came leaping into bis throat. He tried to speal, but his lova and timidity were £o great that it was with difficalty he could articulate. ‘“You have a fine cow,” said he. “Would you like a hittle milk 7" ehe replied. “Itis so hot at the end of May, and you have had a long walk from the city.” In truth, the sky was pure cornlean, without o cloud, and tho sun burned worse than the heat of & forge. The air trembled with Iove aud youth, and the gracious aspect of Nature camo to the heart of Anselm with a hitherto undreamed-of aignificance. This ingcnuouns offer without the hope of profit, aud the modesty, of gesture with which the poor gurl turned to mako it, quite overcame the gold- smith, who longed to have the power to mako ber Queen of France at that momont, so that not only her master the Abbot, but all France shonld be at her feet. 4 No, my darling, T am not thirsty. That is, I do not caro for any milk butI care greatly for you, and I would like to gain you your froedom.” It cannot be, and I shall live and die belong- ing tothe Abbey. We have lived so fora long time, from father to son, from mother to daugh- ter. ' Like my ancestors, I shall pass my days on these lands, and my children will after me, for the Abbot will never permit mo to remain single.” “'What," said the Tourangean, *do yon mean a b; diately fell in t0 8y that no gallant bas beon tempted by your sweot eyes to buy your liberty? 1 bought mine of the Ring."” “ Ab, it would cost toomuch. And go those who seo me once never seck me again.” “ And did you never think of going to Eome other country on horseback behind some brave gentleman?” i+ Oh yes, Monzeigneur; but if I were taken, T should be hung at the very least, and my lover, were he even a great lord, would lose more than one estale, perhaps all his possossions. And I am pot worth g0 much. 4nd then the Abbey bas long arms, longer fo reach than my fect | would be quick to get away, And bosides. I de- sire to live in humble obedience to God, who has placed mo in this stato of life. in tho gardens “ And Your mothor 2" +fhe does the washing.” ¢ And what is your name *‘Ihavo noname, my dear lord. My father was baptized Etjcutie, my mother is La Ltienne, nud I am tho little ‘iicnnete, ot your service,” “ My daxling,” said tho goldsmilh, * no woman did ever please me a5 you Lave dose, and Iam gure that you have & heart full of ell nobleness. And, seeing that you preseuted {L;m-mf tomy eyes at tho very moment when I resolved to marry, I take it to bo an omen from Heaven. If, therefore, I am not displeasing to you, I pray you to take me for your friend and husband.” Theso words wers uttered with 50 grave an ac- cent, and 50 impressive & munner, that Tien- nette wept. #No, Monseigneur,” ehe replied. I shall cause you a thousand gorrows, and shull be your misfortune. Let it pass. 1'm a poor serf girl. You have gaid onough." ‘*Ho,"” ssid Aneelm, ‘“‘have I? You don't Imow me, my girl, nor with what sort of a man you deal. Then joining his hands togother, and raising his eyes to heaven. Lo spoke out. “Tmako a solemn vow to the Siear Baint Eloi, whose pity protects the craft of gold- smiths, to make two niches of silver, and to adorn them with my finest workmanshij One shall be for a staiue of the Holy Virgin, if she will_intercede for the liberty of this my dear wife, ond the other for my patron St. Eloi, if I havo good euccess in this enterprise of the enfranchisement of Tionnetto, female sert, here present, to which I devoto my- self, goods, and body. And I swear by y hopes of etornal happiness io persevere witl courage in this affair, to spend every doit of what fpuams, and to relingnish it only with my life. Andnow God bas heard my vow, and you, Litlo omo, also,” uaid he, turning to the young gir! #Qh, my lord, my dear lord; oh, my cow is running away,” cried she, mmwin.f héreelf on hor knees before Anselm. ‘I willlove you all my life, only take back your vosw.” “Lof us go and catch the cow,” replied the oldsmith, raising her up, but withont daring to ins her, thongh the young girl already loved him passionstely. And 80 the goldsmith ran efter the cow, who was soon canght and held by the horns, for he was go full of joy that for two pins he would have tossed it up in the air, so strong he felt, “ Good-bye, my darling. If you come into Paris don't fail to come.to my house, near the Church of St. Eloi. I am called Master Anselm, snd am the goldsmith of the King's Msjesty. Promise me to be 1n this field next God's day; don't fail to come, though the sky should rain javelins.” i “Yes, good and dear sir. To come I would Jeapall the hedges, and wish I may be yours ‘withont causing any hurt to you,.even if it wero st the expense of my futurs happiness. And I will pray God for yuu with all my strength, wait- ing or aur next maeting.” 0 “Anselm departed toward the town, going right on, never looking backward, nor to the right. nor yet to the left, a3 a man walks who is set in his se, and Tiennatte watched him going, fixed like & stone image of some saint, never stirring from her position until she could see him no more; and long after the burgess was far out of sight, she strained her eyes. There she xamaims until pightfall, lost in reflection, hardly knowing if all that had been Wwes not & dream. Then she went back to the wretched n which was her home, and was soundly g:llen for being late ; but didnot feel the blows, being full of love for Anselm. As forhim, helost the power of working, could neither eat, uor drink, por sleep. If ho ghut his eyee, he saw Tiennette ; if ho took up his tools, Tiennette floated on the silver ghtes, and hindered him from working ; if he blew up his forge, ho saw her lovely form in the red glow of the fires. She was part of his life,—never to be lost, never to Dreak away. Feoling this, ho shut g his forgo and took the road to St. Germain to speak to the Lord Abbot about Tiennette. But on the way he prudently determined to place himself under - the protection of some courtier ; and, retiring to the Court, sought out the Chamberlain of the King, who lighly esteomed him on_ sccount of some work which he had made for his lady-love. Tho Chamberlain at once proraised his assist- ance, ordered his men to ssddle his steed, and a hackney for the goldsmith, and they rode together fo the Abbéy of Saint Germain. The Abbot of those days was the Lord Hugo do Senecterre, who was very old, being 93 years of age. When they wero ushered into the Abbot's guest-chamber, the Chamberlain, in a plessant way, begged the Lord Hugo to it him something which wounld be very agreeable to him. The Abbot, shakin his head, mElicd thbat the canons of the Churc] strictly inhibited any such blind engagements of one’s word. Baid the ‘Chamberlain: ood man you see here is the goldsmith of the ourt, who has fallen desperately in love with a young girl, a daughter of u serf belonging to the Abbey. And I ask of you, if you ever hope to have_ Tour dearest wish granted, to free that youn, 1% ‘*Who is ghe?” demanded the Abbotof An- “Dear father, this selm. ¢ She is called Tiennette," sa1d he, timidly. *Ho, ho,” laughed tho good old Hugo. *The ‘brat has brought, us a fine fish. is is & grave mattor, and 1 cannot determine it alone.” T know well enough, good fathar, what you mesn by that,” said the Chamberlain, knitting ‘'his brows with disappointment. “ Deau, Sire,” replied the Able. Do you know the girl 2" So eaying, ho ordered Tiennette to be bmught in, telling his Secrotary to clothe her in fine drosses, and to make her a8 brave as ho could. In tho meanwhile, tho Chamberlsin drow the Tourangesn apart, 2od advised bim to give up his whim, sceing that it was like to cost him dear. There were many oung girls even of noble birth who wou'd glad- ly marry him, whercas the monks would muke him pay » round sum for Ticunotte, “Tom eatisfied,” eaid the goldsmith. “Ihave 1aid up & fow crovns.” “VWell," replied tho Chamberlain, “ you will went them. 1 know the monks. With them money is all in all.” * Monseignour,” gaid the goldsmith, turning to the Abbot, and speaking very eoftly but very resolutely too, ' you represent hero on earth the goodness and the morcy of God, who shows Him- self 5o full of pity toward us, snd is_so gracious’ to our miseries. If you will aid me in espousing this girl in lawful marriage, vo that my children may be truo, I will not only pray for you_every night snd every morning, but T will make for you a pix for the holy Encharist, which casket Bhall bo so elaborately worked, so rich in precious stones and eculptured with figures of winged angels, that trero shall be nothing like it in Christondom, and it shall Tomain a unique and lovely thing fo rejoice your cyes and to bo the glory of your altar, 8o that not only the townspeople, but strangers and lords of far countries, shall run to see it, 50 magnificent shall It be.” My son,” replied the Abbot, “surely you loso sour schagp. It vou ato rescived to Lase £his girl for yofir Iawful wifo, then you and all that is yours will belong to the Chapter of the Abbey.” . *Ob, my Lord Abbot, though I have lost my sensos over this poor girl, and am moro touched even with her misory and’ Christian spirit than I am with the porfections of her body, yet sm I still moro nstonished at your hardness of heart, and this I sy knowing my fete to bo within your hands. Yes, Lord, I know tho law. But, it my goods fall into your domain, if I become a sert, if I lose my house and my rank as freo burgess, know,” eaid he, with hot tears of in- diguation buréting from his eyes, “that you cannotlave the best partof me. Here,” trik- ing Lis forebead, *here is that which I have won by painful labor and long study; and here lives that of which no one, excepting God, can be lord and msster ssve mysel. Aod the whole wealth of your Abbey cannot repay to tho world what it will lose when you hinve silonced this. You will have my bods, my wife, my children, but 7ou cannot have my art, for not oven fortunes shall induce me to giveit you. Know you thatIam stronger than the hardest iron, and more patient than suffor- ing itself.” ¥ §osaying, the goldsmith, maddened by the calm, salf-satisfled look of the Abbot, who seem- ed resolved to bave hia crowns for the Abbor, struck, with his clenched fist, on an oaken chair and shattered it into » hundred pieces, a8 if it had been broken by an iron mace. “Sea there, great Lord, what sort of servant you will have, thst from & maker of divine things, you will degrad into & besat of bur- en.” w3y son,” replied the Abbot, * you are doubly wrong, in that yon have broken my chair and judged my soul in error. This girl belongs to the Abbey, not to me. I am but the faithfal gaordian of the rights and ussgos of this glori- ous monastery, and though I should give to your wife the power to bear .free-born children, vet must I account to God and to the Abbey. Bince there has been here an altar, monks, and serfs, id est, from the time wherecf the memory of man knowe:h not to the contrary, such a case has never happened whera a free burgess has become the property of the Abbey by marrying with & serf-girl. Hence it is my duty o exercise this right, and to make use of it, otharwise it would become lost and would fall into desnetude, which would be the cause of a thoueand troubles. And that this should not be is of o greater advantage to the Stateand tothe Abbey than your caskets, beautiful as they are, secing that from our treasury we can purchose these” things, wheroas no money can Luy establiched laws and customs. And for the truth of this I call as a_witness Monseignenr, tho Chamberlin of the King, who knows what iutinite pains onr Sire takes every day to battle for tha establishment of his ordinances.’” “ That bit is to stopmy mouth," grumbled tho Chamberlain. Tho goldsmith, who was not much of & law- yer, remained thoughtful. Then came in Tien- nette, cloan and bright, her hair neatly dressed, having on s robe of white merino, With & lavendor-colored girdle, and her pretty feet clad in white stockinge with delightful little shoes. And she looked so royaily beautiful, and bad 8o noble a carriage, that the goldsmith was petrified ‘with ecatacy. Judgo that the pair exchanged more than one loving glanco. The Chamberlain, who had never deen 50 noble & creaturs, thongh! the eight was t0o dangerous for the poor goldsmith, 8o he gal- loped him back to Pans as fast as the hackney could catty him. And before parting he advised him to think long before be went on with this affair, seeing that the monks wero resolute to use Tiennette as & bait to catch some good fish. And, in truth, the Chapter sent him word that he could marry Tiennette if he could resclye to give up to them his house and goods, and confess himself and hia children to become slaves ; also that the Abbot, by special act of kindness, would allow him to live io his house on .condi- tion of bonding over to the Abbey an inventory of his goods and farniture, and paying rent, and coming once every year to live for one entire week in a hut belonging to the domain as an act of serfdom. The poor’ goldsmith saw clearly that this was the final decision of the Abbot and Chapter, and began to despair. Sometimes he thought of raising a8 mobin the streets and sotting fire to the monastery, sometimes of in- veigling the Abbot into some secret place where e could torture him into signing an sct of en- franchisemeut for Tiennette; sometimes of one thing, sometimes of another; but the idea on which ho finally settled was to carry off tho girl and go with her to some foreign country where they might marry in peace &nd bo as happy as the day was long. Forhs thought that, once woll out of the land, the King and his iriends amwong the Grand Beigneurs might succeed in softening the monks and making them hear reason. B0 he rmada hie proparations sccordingly, but found on going next Sundsy to the mcmfaw that he bod reckoned without his Abbet, for_he not only did not see Tiennetts, but learned that she wa8 kapt in the strictest s~ clugion within the walls of the convent. Then Anrelm’s heart was so cast down that he began to complain openly and loudly of the cruelty of the monks. And the thing reached the ears of iho King himself, who in open court remonstrat- ed with the old "Abbot, ssking him to yield to the groat love of his goldsmith, aod give an ex- ample of Christian charity. 2 T will tell you why not, Sire, replied the priest. “ All laws, rights, and privileges are connected togother like the rings of the chain mail which your Msjesty wears. 1f one link brenks the whole gives way. Now, if this girl should be taken from us sgainst our will, and if the custom of the land should not be cbserved, soon the subjects of your Majesty would take sour royal crown, and in every place great sedi- tions would burst forth against paying rates and taxes, which make the people groan.” This eilenced the King. And now mnothing elee was talked of in Paris save this adven- ture of the Tourangean. Every one felt in- terested in tho affair, and bets were made in every quarter sbout tho result. The lords wagered that Anselm would give up, but the lndies of the Court wagered the contrary, and came in crowds to purchase trinkets, and to sce the man. Anselm having complamed to some of them that the monks prevented him from siceing his_dearly-beloved girl, the thing was told to the Queen, who considered it an zct of detestable cruglty. And she eent her royal orderto the Lord Abbot that Master Anselm, her joweler, anould be permitted to see Ticn- nette, whereupon the monks arranged that he might come every day to the parloir of tka mouastery, where Tiennette would meet him. under the supervision ‘of anold monk. And every day she came dressed in greater magnifi- cence, 50 that her beauty was set forth most ad= mirably. The two lovers were not permitted ta even tonch each other's hands, and had for sole consolstion the joy of sesing and spesking to each other, but every day their love increas- ed. At last Tiennette came with a emiling face, and esid to her lover, *‘ My dearest lord, L think T have found a way outof our troublea. Ibave learned fromthe Ecclesiastical Judgs, Father Jehan, who is also tha Sub-Prior, and Kkinder than the rest, that, as you wero not hora 3 gerf of the domain of Baint Germain, and only bocame 80 by accession, your state of serfdom will cease with the cause of accession. Now, my lord and lover, if son will lose your land& and goods for me, I will willin, glv lose my life for you. Marry me, and wo will be happy as the day is long together, and when I find myself about to be & mother 1 will kill myself, Then you will becomo freo again in epito of the wicked monks, becanvs 1t is the law, and slso becanse the King is your friend. AndIam sure that God will pardon ma - . this euicide, seeing that I do it to deliver from slavery my lord and husband, whom I lovo dear- er than life.” Having said this with much as mation and many smiles, throngh the tears glit~ tering in her fair eves, sbo strstched out her arms lovingly to the poor goldsmith, from whom sho was separated by an iron gratifg, a8 is the fushion in the parloir of monasteri . *‘Dearest Tiennetto,” cried the goldsmitl, it is finished. The trouble of my mind is over. I am now resolved. I will becoms a serf, and jou shall live to be my happiness as ong 20 T Livo, if it bs Govswill. In your sweet compauionship, my Tiexnotte, the bhe: eat chains will seem light and pleasact, and it will matter little to me if X cannot call o singla tarthing my own, when I sm lord of all the riches of your heart. I place my trustin the Sieur 8t. Eloi, who will surely succor us in our troubles, and will deliver us from evil, I will g0 straight to the scrivener and have him draw tip the contracts and writings. And considcr, after all, dearest flower of my lifo, that you will be finely dreesed, well lodged, and cared fer like & Queen during your lifo, sinco the Lord Abbot leaves us the enjoyment of my property.” Tiennette, in a tompost of tears and emiles, fought against this decision, and declarcd that she would rather die than reduce to serfdow & freo man, and, much more, & freo man whom sha cntirely Joved becauso of tho gracious words which he had said to ber in the mesdow, when they first met. But Aneelm spoko so tendorly to her, and told her that his happiness was bound 'up in her companionship, and that if she died be would certainly follow her to the tomb, with a thousand loving expressions, that sho consented to tho marringe, thinking in~her own heart that sho conld always kill hersel? if she wanted to. Yhen thia thing wag known in Paris, that the great goldsmith bad given up lands and liberty for the sake of his love, everyoue wished to sce him, end every lady, who could get the monoy, bought n trinket, that she might talk with Lim and ap- plaud him for being 80 trua in love. When the day approached that was to unite him to Tien- metto and toslavery, Ansclm melted all his gold into & royal crown, which he crhamented witir all his pearls snd ‘diamonds, and bronght it sa- crotly to the Oueen, saving: * Your Majesty, do not know what will happen to me to-morrow ; everything within my hiouse will be inventoried and “hold by the sccursed monks, who have shown mo no pity. Doign, then, to sccept his. It is a feeble exprosaion of thanks for the joy of seeing my beloved, which T owe £o your goodness. I do not know what will hap- pen noxt. But if a day should como when my children shall be freo I have sure confidence in your generosity.” *“Well gaid, good man,” said the King. *“Some day the Abbey will have nced of my aid, and I will not forget this.” The wedding of Tiennetto was a sight to eea. The Abbeiv‘ was_crowded. Tho Queen herrely ave her the wodding robes, and the King, by [ottere-patent, gave her s_specia® privilego to wear %o.dsn ear-rings, which was forbidden ta serfs {{me sumptuary laws of that time. Tha Abbot Hugo pronounced the benediction, and the handsome pair left the Abbey for tha lodging of Anselm—now become & serf. The poor hus.. band had forged himself a silver bracelct, which ho wore on his left arm, showing that he was a serf of the domain of the Abbey of St Germein. Andas they passed, the peoplo form- ed a double lino along the street, and shouteu “Noel! Noel!" asif he had been a now King. When he arrived at his door he found the irons which mpgzned his_sign had been_decorates with green i all the principal inhabitanta of the quart there to wish him joy, and to serenade Lim itk a band of music, and they all ezied out to b, 4 You will always bea noble man, Master An! seim, in spite of the monks.” They passed the honeymoon in the grestcst happiness. Tiennette was delighted with hey fine house, £nd with the kinduess of the grea! Iadies, who came to buy jewels and had all s them a pleasant word for herself and hisband At the end of the month, who should come ir great pomp but the old Abbot, Hugo do Scnece terre, their lord and master, who, entering ints the house that no longer belonged to the goldx smith, but to tha Chapter, £aid to the twé eponses: * My children, you' are free, and quid of all manorial” power; and I must tell you &u at the very first I was greatly meved at the lové which united yon togother, and o, I was resolved, when the rights of the Abbey Liad boen firmly recognized, to make you entirely bappy. Ane thisact of rasnumission sball cost you nothe ing. And Anselm's house, lands, and goods ar< his again, secing that ho had such confidency in the mercy of God.” So sayiog, he gave thes, both & little slap on the cheek, which was tiv, rite of manumission, in receiving which they fe¥ at his foot, kissing hia hands and weeping fay joy. And the mews spreading like wildfiry ihroughout the neighborhood, everybody turnes ont to bless and thank tho Abbot. "And oz his retnrn to the Abbey, Anselm held the bridld of his mare a8 far ag the gate of Bussy. On ths road he scsttered silver crowns among ths ‘maimed, the halt, and the blind, crying: ** Lar gesse | Largesso'to God! God save 2nd blea the Abbot | Long live the good Lord Hugo ! And when ha returned to hisown bouee he made & new nuptizl feast, which lasted a wholo weck. This fond couple lived together long andhap g}!y, and hed & numerous family, who- eottled ig ‘ouraine and became of the noblesse. Nor die Anselm forget his vow, for on the firet anni sary of his wedding day he brought to the Abw bey of St.Germam the two nichesof silvey which he had vowed. The two treasures weri placed on the chief altar of the church, ang Were esteemed the most valuablo things i il possession of the Abbey. Strangers camo fai and near to see them, and the story of the lovas of the Tourangean and the lovely Tiennetto wrs spread over all France. The moral of this hitory is that love conquers “all things—even the projudices nud the covab ousness of monke.—New York Times. —_—_— AT THE GATE. Ontside the open gate & spirit stood. EPUR One called: * Come in.” Then he: could [ For there within 'His light and glorious, But here all cold and darkness dwell with ux.” # Then,” said tho other, “ Come. Tho gate is wide, DButhe: I walttwoangels who must gaide. 1 cannot come unto Thee without these Repentance firat, and Faith Thy face that sees, I weep and call ; they do not Licar my 1 nover shall within the yates rejotce. 40 hieart unwise I” the Voice dfi auswer him, # I zeign o'er sll the Locts of Scraplin, Aro not theso Angold also in My Hund 7 11 they corae Dot to theo 'tis my command. Tho darkness chills thee, tumilt ve xes i Are angels more than 17 _Coruc tu, to Thenin the dark, and restlcaunces, and woa, gite did o, Trembling becatse no angel walked before, ot by the Voice drawn onward evermorv, Bo came he weeping whera the glory shuné, And fell down, crying, * Lord, T come alone,” ¥ And 1t was thee I called,” the Voico replied, B wolcome.” Then Love rodc, a mighty tir- That swept all else awaz, Speech fonnd 251. 5 But Sllence, rapt, gazed up unto that Face: or aw £ Abgels fron he radisace glide, And taxe thelr Dlce forever at bia nide. G, E. Meredith, Photographs of Ancient Inscriptions, 1t will be remembered that during the sicge ;2 Paris tho dispatches conveser by carrior-pigecns covsisted of photography, which, having beeq reduced to microscopic dimersions, were after- ward displayed in a readablo size by the solar microscope, This discovory has been utilized by s French Eavant, in tho study of historical monuments. He has oaned photographs to Le taken of the four faces of tho Obelisk at Paris, Each of the faces are divided into twelve equal ents, which appear extremely minute in tho photographa, but are reflected in conveniont proportions on a large screen, by the heip of a magic lantern and a powerfn! solar microscope., ‘Tho page of history traced upon the Obelisk can thus be deciphered at leisure. The toilsoms task to which seientific cxplorors are now con- domnod, of taking down and ascertaining tha meaning of ancient inscriptions on the spot, will be greatly lightened by this method, which makes it possible to obtain tho information lurking beneath the hieroglyphics of Egvptian and Assyrian stones, Ly photographing t snd investigaticg the tressures thus snc:u& when the hardahips aud fatigues of wavel srg over,