Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, July 19, 1874, Page 11

is to > he de = od Yy 4 d . 8 Ty 4 L] . d 5 4 y : I o~ COLORADO. Town of Fairplay---How e It Got Its Name. Place Now; But Once a d 3o Very Lively Spot. pmamen in the Hlines---Principal gold-Ficlds of the Territory. The Modus-Operandi of Gold- 3 y[ncer-Dfining-—-Tho “Salt= ing” Swindle. spondence of The Chicago Tribune, el O Famrray, Col., July 1. 1874, iy, the county-seat of Park County, sad P ok to Wt is known as the Alt. Lincoln e NTR et s excluslvely a mining-town, - ntains, sl told, sbout 400 souls. It is tod just 3¢ tbe foot-bills that wait upon Mt. I:\'h::‘dn on e porth gide of the Plaite River, 1o commands, to_the east, 3 very fine view of South Park. The town 15 scattered promis- "‘fm‘ ‘sround 0 8 #ido-Lill, aud does not libol ;“mém,,gumq by making any attempts s rection. “B?“,mnmhin\fion of circamstances or events G FAIRPLAY FIRST OBTATNED ITS TITLY., p 3 dupuied quegtion smong the miners; a gooetion slmost 80 duffioult of eolution as the pirth-place of the immortal Homer. The para~ his:s and romsncers have had their ssy ahoat it, and the newspaper-poet has spun his giszy, wherein two rough and stalwart miners s represented as having fallen into a disputo ererthe posseesion of a claim, and, ppealing o revolvers, ome of the antagonists fell portally wounded. The victor, bending over s copse, exclaims, ‘“Wal, Juck, they act sy bob what you got fair play,” and salkz0ff; and the expression is seized upon and fuizaod to the town. The latest and wmost ap~ pored authorities declare tho sponsors in bap~ =zl be & certain doctor, who flourished some yars 530 fn Denver,—the father of a lovely and woaplished dsughter,—and a giddy, haram- sarum young Lotbario, who fell in love with grdsaghter aforesaid. Tho twain maot, there s the nsnal billivg and cooing, and the nsual ilastrstion of man’s perfidy and woman's weak- 222 —the girl was ruined. Appalledat the con- wquence of his indiscretion, and too much of & wrurd to meot the outraged father, the young 10 fod to the monntains, and sought rofuga in Gominors’ cabios at the Platte Rivor mines. e avenging dispenser of physic followod him; 11 st one stormy night, corraled his game in ¥755-9 cabin, deeply engaged in she beautics of @ovpoker. Their eyes met, and the young eximew that a settlement must be had then ol there, He requested the doctor to wait ol be played his bavd out, cashed his exts, aud then, facing the old man, adimed, “I only want ome thing, Bockar, and that is fair play.” They fired across tauble; two reports rang out on the midnight air; two mortal yelis were heard; two bodias fdlto the floor with a heavy thug; and the next diy TWO CORPSES were planted in the river-bottom. Fair play was the saoding salutation tor months after, and the town became known by that name. The maiden over whom all this foas was made, took Parie-green st first, but was brought to with tho 8id of a stomach-pump, and is now the sole proprietreas of & hurdy-gurdy and danoe-house st Pueblo. She still speaks tenderly of the ke lover, and often rogreta that he did not “gek the drop” mpon the old man. Farplsy hes the nsual complement of frame, Iog, brick, stone, and adobe houses, awitched in bere and thers at 0dd angles and cornors ; while the main or principal strest runs directly through the place, and brings up at Iast full-uilt sguinet 8 steop sod rocky guleh, filled with old ks, boots, joints of stove-pipe, dismantied chuzners, sod other debrs of miners' cabing. Ruirplay bea been nufortunate. In Beptember st 8 feartul fire swept it heart out; and, dis- csyed and disconraged, in she face of the op- peition of fresher and’ more powerful rivals, ¥to have platted town-sites and organized forn-Boards to contest for the trade bo Lo mives, the citizens of blackened and ruined Jairplsy cannot summon courage or euergy @gh to rebuild. The etones and rubbieh re- nu whera they fell, aud the cellar-ways yawn ll their ghastly emptiness. The only sign of izprovement visible was 2 new chaurch, not yet enplsted, but which a muner declared was nec- ey, 38 the people required some plnce in shichto mourn “over thewr lost greatness. It Etmphatically 4 DULL, DEAD TOWN. Tswholesale merchiants, who once filled out keary orders for the mountain-trade, have left frotber guarters. Houses **t0 lot " and * for sls” stand upon every street and corner. The elo-keeper, the gambler, and the frail sister, bave packed up their trunks and shaken the dust tomtbeir feet. Business languishes, snd the bolswe empty. The stages still make their eekly trips from Denver and Canon City ; but e are faw, and thegreat bulk of travel Boet by on the ofher eide. The few lawyers left moglinofs lack of clients. The few clients 1t comgliin of a lack of lawyers. Inshort, ihere séemato be & general dissolution of all yomporal fiin; and’ nnless some nnexpected 3troke of forinns occurs, the coyotes will howl ¥ad the owls buld their mests in the deserted Ireets of Fuirplay, But it was not slvays thus. When tho famoua ¥old-placer-mines, on the bank of the Platte, ¥hero it debouchies into the South Park, were discovered, years ago, the mining excito- Zend was intense, and the rush snd $2m of apoc- tstors sud adventurers that tet in toward Fair- Blsy were ordething long to be remembered. TOETCNZS WERB MADE AT A BTROKE, 4men went crazy, The Platte Cauon, at this Boint, is & quarter of “a mile’ in width, and the Jooer Liows orer a bottom. composed of gravel 0052 stones, and boulders. The precions metal mafmt found in the bodof the mver, and isem, with the ordinary pou and_rocker, aver- Redssbhigh 26 $20 perday to themsn, Tho 00 ¥as gtaked off and claimed from one end hfin oter; but, outeide of the favored few 'hf'dm camein and ekimmed the cream, the fxrfields have vielded no very rich retarn. Suinvarisbl the richest diggings are o3 etruck on the bedrock ; but, in the Platte 430, it was found that a deposit of 40 feot & are of looge stones and gravel must be re- oned befare this could be resched. Miners Iror uall means, who depended upon the weck- vorenthly “cloan-up”™ for the funds with h o ettle thoir board or grocery-bills, & 2ot contend against guch aa obstacle as 5 and the m-{orizy of the emall claims were prsdoned, of gold out for & mere nominal sum. "iwnonrm 18 now working the mines with any D= of capital or ystem: Clark & Bmith, of ”:I. These gentlemen have either bought t nearly all the ofher claimants, and 3in a system of hydranlio works on » ) With the inteation of reaching the 4 large force of laborers are em- toyed, HE MATORITY OF ‘WHOM ARE CIINAMEN, The whuto Inborers wore along very contentedly Lopty 3,198, aud the two civilizations are appar- i D the best of terms. The old prejudico Ya) o 0merly cropped ont against the Celes- e c;nd made itself manifestn mob-violence "hibped, scourged, and plundered a Chi tauan whenover ho dared to. make his 8 e ppear- ;:3 &: '}"’ bighway, is fast disappearing ; and itary ominant race aredisposed toaccept the tiable, and let the * Laytherts " work, They f g icellent shovelors, can atand ss much very 2d bardship as an army-mule, snd are Y88 to work for a dollar & day and board. Dighs J7C ecattered all throngh the principal A x;‘:g;:fl‘;‘mtory, and, in & few years mnr(a, © most irksoma erforme by Clinpost i drudgery will bé perform THE PRINCIPAL, GOLD-FIELDS m\:lmao Lie upon the west side of the main withiy o, 10 Pacifia Slope, and_are embraced fir g 188 Counties of Park and Summit,—by hm;ofl"hm Placer-mines being found in the Snasg 204 0D0D the banks of the Plaite, Blus, fow :; snd Bwan Rivers. All of these streams Pl iBe Pacific, with the exception of the inggp t:nd bave a very rapid fall, often exceed- Guarty b0 e mile. Wherever disintegrated exiat, 3,0k elate, and red porphyritic rocka e, tpre itk loose gravel and round bonld- €0ld is found in greater or less THE CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE: SUNDAY; sbundance,—the richest deposil i struck next 40 the bed- ep:m;“!li::’;o‘:l?g to 40 feet bolow the surfaca. As remarked be- fore, the main difiiculty encountered upon in the * Platte is reaching the bed- Tock, ' and W is “m o fnis Doedtd that oStk & Smith are now ‘bending all their energies. A short distance below Fa pley, in the old bed of the Platte, thoy Loy Sonstructed a large Sume, half a mils iy Jongth, \When all {s rendy, the river will bo turned jots this—slats being loced across the bottom 1o cateh tho gold. “The earth from the gides of the guleh aad bottom sbove the flume will bo washod ut with hydraulic pipes, and the precious matal, carriod Slong by ihio force of tho stroam, mill Jodge m the Hume, and remain thers untd called for.” The works are of ! & very expenarvo nacure, but the proprietors are L 1Or sangnine that they will Teceivo largo dividends whon activo. apem'nona\ ones commence, Very few persons at the Hast have a correct ides of the system of e . _l6oLD PrACER-MDUING in this rozion. Thoy bear of nuggets and shot- gold. snd gradually arrive at the conclusion that the mimer walks ont into tho bed of one of thess streams and picks them np as a boy would chestnuts. Nothing can be more €rTonoous or further from tho truth. “The gold is hore; it is scatterod all through these rocks, streams, nd bill-sides; it may yicld €30 doliare totho pan, sod thousands of “dollars may repose within & few cubic yards, but it can nevor be recovered and brought to light excapt through tho agency of water. We are speaiing now of placer. mines, whero the pracious metal is scattered indiecriminately through the loose goil ana gravel, and not of lodes, where gold runs in soums throngh the rocks, and can be reduged by the aid of machruery. 1n all the famons placer- gulches in tho viclnity of Breckinridge, Hamil- ton, Fairplay , and Montozuma, gulches which aro historic, and which have yiclded thousands of dollars to tho square yard, water is the only ageucy employed; and, without water, the richest of the diggings would Le valueless, p) « ** DURROWING.” It is an onomatopostic word, but it has bocome paturalized bere, and is gonorally much more protitablothan the burrowing usually pursued in Chicago or other citics. The wator rnsbes down through the pit or gulch with tremendous foree ; hugo rocks and boutders are swept along with the torrent ; the earth melts like snow- flakes ; and togother rocks, gravel, dirt, and rubbish, a boiling, seothing ' cauldron, it moves through the sluice with tho roar of a tornado, acd is deposited in the dump below. A fow wweeks of thi Iabor, and the earth of tho gulch is washed down to bed-rock, and here the big pay commences. The eoil that clings to the crevices is carefully shoveled up aud thrown. iuto tho stream, while diligent scarch is made for such nuggets as may have THE MODUS OPERANDI is as follows: The minor goes ou: prospecting up the beds of oue of the streams we have pamed. In his hand he carries a pick and ehovel. To his shonlders is strapped his bundle of blankets, coffee-pot, and frying-pan. 1Ile £nally reachos 8 narrow ravine ‘or gulch, nare rowly examines the formation of tke rocks and nature of the soil, and observes that the hills or mountaing from which it takes ita rias are worn down and abraded, as if by some great convul- sion of nature. He sinka down a Lole, in the bottom or gide of the gulch, to the depth of & few feet, takes apan of dirt and washoa it care- fully in the stream. 1f he finds color,—that is, a fow stray particles of gold clinging to the bot- t0m of the pan,—ho goes higher up the ravine sud washes again, and, if the same rosalt is reached, the miner piants his stake and claims the discovery,—e0 many feot to the righs and left, sud 8o far up the gulch, together with ail the gold, precious stones, and other articles it may contain. Tha next stepis to procure water. He goes TP the river until the nataral fall of the stream will f].nce bim above the gronnd be wishes towork, and rakesout a ditch, which is run along ths sidos of the mountain, and above the gulch he wishes to work. Tha next stepisto build a reservoir of dimensions euflicient to contain a large volume of water, and give froms5 to 8 foet besd. A gate lets tho water out, througha frame flume, with terrible force into the gulch below, The ground to be washed ont is called the pit ; ond at the mouth of this, and from 100 0200 yards below the reservoir, the ground- sluice is constroted. This consists of & frame- work of boards nailed upon the sidea and bot- tom, dnd placed in such & position aa to receive the water and earth that comes through the pit. Goldalwayasettles to the bottom, no matter what #he farce may be employed ; and slats are placed at equal distances acrosa the bed of the frame- work to arrest itin its passage through the eluico. The process of raising the gate, and let- tiog the water down from the reseryoir through tha pit and into the sluico, is called bean loft behind in the general rush. They are often found,—great, rich, yellow fellows, weigh- ing from 850 to €200 each.” The harvest-seanon, bowever, takes place in ths sluice. The water ia turned off, and the deposit in the bottom, of biack sand and gravel, is shovelod np tenderly in pans and washed out. If the pit was mch, thesand sparkles with goid ; while millions of little rubies, from the sizo of & pin-head to that of a pea, glisten in every direction. Not much notice is taken of them "in more honored eom- pany, and the miners generally shove them aside 29 wortblesa. The *clean-up" from one small eluico worked by two men has been known to go 88 high as $10,000 the scason; but this was in the early days, and such doposits are now rarely found. Formerly the scoundrelly practice of “saLTING the gold-placer-mines was carrled on with bold- neas in the vicinity,of Fairplay; but the businesa received a sudden check in the arrest and pun- ishment of the principal ring-leaders. One was sent dancing from the rope's end on the banks of the Piatte; another was publicly thrashed in the streets; while still anothor was bound to the back of a fiery, untamed bronchio, and eent off at a tearing rate toward the foot-hills, Saltiog is nothing more nor less than sprinkling the bot- tom of a pit or aluice with gold-dust, with intent 1o deceive. It is generally played upon some ionocent pilgrim from the States, who is anxious o buy a mine. The unsuspect- ing victim is led up fo the grounds, and is iovited to take & pan and fry it for himself. He finds the bottom of the pan covered with fold : wlle the fellows who have put up the job, and formerly fixed the price at which they are ling tfo sell, appear very much chagrined and are anxions to back out. This only makes tle victim the more anx- jous, and he closes the bargain, only to find that he has been swindled, and that the mine for which he paid an enormous price was, in reality, worked years_before. Io justice to the miners a8 & class, T will add that they are bitterly opposed to such ewindles, and it is through their efforts alone that the most notaorious of the saltiog fratornity have beon convicted aod brought to justice. R i SN e W THOUGHTS. “ The sun set in & sea of brilliant hues, Crimson, and gold, and azure ; one by one X saw thé colors biénd and interfuse, And follow down the pathway of the sun. 1 almost wished with them 10 fade away Over the distant edge, and dis as they.” Thus spake my friend half-lightly; but my heart Shrank, trembling st the words with sudden dread. “ And when the time shall come for us o part, Afust each go on bis way alone 77 I said ; * And {n that nnkpown country shall we meet, Or seek each other with unresting fest 2% # Shall we love there as hers ? What thinkest thou 1 He answered slowly, with a thoughiful face : “1f from my naturs could be taken now Al memories, passfons, hopes, the love and grace Which s of thee, and maketb up the whols, "Twould Jeave the merest shadow of & soul, * But, {f our lives begin anew, *twill be Asif we neer had ived.* With blanched cheel 1 answered, *Say not that, it frighteth me.” # Why,” sald he, smiling, # Bow art thou so weak 7 Why fear or wonder 7 ' Let us live our best, And to our Father's goodness leave the rest,” ~AU Tgs Year Bound. —_—— The End of a Vermont Railrond War. The long-standing railroad war in Vermont, between the Central Vermont and the Vermons & Canads] Railroads, was brought to a close on ! Wednesday last by a contract entered into bo- tween the stockholdere of the two roads at Bel- lows Falls, V., whereby the Central Vermont Company will purchage the Vermont & Canada Railroad, with allits privileges, appurtenances, nssets, and property of every doflCnpha'n, in- cluding the assignment of the latter road's de- mand for rent in arrear under its contract to thie purchasing road, but not the lease itself, and all overdue rents. The purchase moneyis £3,000,000, to be paid in the bonds of the Yer- mont Central Company, with coupons attached, having thirty years (o ran. The yoto of the stockholders of the Vermont & Canada Road on thequestion of the sale wes 68 for and 11against. There was no discuseion over the matter at the meeting of tha stockholders of the Central Ver- mont, and the coutract which had been entered into by their Directors was agreed to. The liti- gation thusclosed began thirteen years ago,whea s guit in the interest of the Vermont & Canada Road was brought against the Central Yermont Compauy. Tho suit terminated in s decision, whereby the property of the Central Vermont was placed in the bands of s Receiver for the benefit of the Vermont & Canada Compsny a8 lesgors of its road to the Central Vermont. From this arose other complications and suits betwéen the two companies which had contin- ued up to the time of the present plan of eettle- ment- FASHION. Garments for the Children. Latest Styles for Girls and Boys. Ii_ueemed lnst week, for a time, as if the lnst fashion in sack-cloth, with the nowest design in ashes-trimming, would be tho garb most suitable for the citizens of onco fair Chicago, Dbecome for a eecond time a City of Desolation. On last Taesday night, many peoplo were fleeing onca more from an all-devouring fire, littlo beoding wherewithal they should be clothed,— ouly wondering whether they should have 20y~ thing wherewithal to clothe themselves. FLAME WAS TIE FASHION OF THE HOUR,— # garment with which none cared to cavelop themselves, Torror was dopicted on every face, and tears scemoed to be the chief cosmetic. Dier mirrors, before which many a dainty dress Lad been arranged, and fn which many s fair faco bLod gazod to ses if the hem of her robo was of the proper length, or had taken the four glances necessary before she should go forth for the world's criticism, — the first for the opinion of tho public, the sec- ond for hor enemies, the third for her {frionds, and the fourth for herself,—now lay prons on thesidewalk in front of emptydwollings, for dogs to wago war against their own reflections, sna grow more bellicoss 28 the othor soomed to re. spond, until, seized with the goneral excitemont, they, too, would rush on to ses what was tho matter. IHowevar, for so large a flame and eo great sn oxcitement, thors was loen damage done than might have been supposed, aud all things ara ropidly sottling in their aceustoned Places, aud the world jogs on as usual. The fashion-writer looks in vain, Lowover, for some of the well-known authoritics in matters pertaining to her lino. Madaws Stoughron, who imports such loves of bonnets, as the fair dames and demoiselles of Chicago well know, had to tuke a speedy departure. Wo are not sure whether she has not already gono abroad to se- cure for Chicago the best that Paris has to offer America in the way of beantiful novelties in head-tire. Madame Caroy, the modiste, her op- Pposite noighbor, had but recently moved dowa- town. She escaped with trifling loss, and fonnd refuge with friends far on the South Side. The Websters had decidedly shut up shop the next duy ; 80 that. for the fime, many of tha aristo- cratic or popular places of rasort for fashionable Chicago XTST PERFORCE BE CLOSED. But the nerve and energy of tho businoss men and women of this city aré too well known to imagioe it wll be for any length of time, and before long we expect to hear from them' tho costomary dicts, * This shall be worn, and that discarded.” Still, whilo we are waiting for some of theso poople, the world refuses to stand stil), Those who have not suffered, while thowing hearty sympathy for those that have, will soon {all back info thie regular grooves. Those who were going away will do eo, and follow out their ori?'n;l Dians of business or pleasnre sa if no such thing a3 a firo hed burned out another tolerably-largo slice of Chicago. Having bad theirown wardrobes attended to, the requirements of the little ones must next be looked after, and what they sball wear becomes 2 question of importauce in both mothers' and children’s minds. Place aux dames, and 80 we will speak first of tbe little girls, or rather - THE YOUYG MISSES from 10 to 14 years old. After this ags they dress so much like their mammas or older sisters that all the models may be taken from the fash- ions suitable to them. The goods used, exoopt in Lesvy silks, aro very much the sume ss thoss for older people, and it is perhaps only by describing certain snits that we can explun the difference between them. All shades of gray, dark. sod brown, aro used in the masing up of travoling and street suits; while, for younger girls, the navy-blues still hold their own. hiobair, Sicili- onme, - Cashmere, de-bege, and this olsss of goods, are used chiefly; whila the striped sum- mer eilks, which may 'bs bought as fow ss 85 conts a vard, and various whita goods, aze used for fuller dress. Blouse-smts are msds in prints, piques, and fiannels, and have the ad- vantage of not cramping the muscles of the youthful wearer, but of giving her room enongh torun xnd jump about withont dreading a torn or disfigured dress. These suits, when of blue flanuel, are trimmed preferably with black or white braid, in place of the lighter shado of blue which was worn last year. A PRETTY DRESS of strined and plain woolen goods for a miss of 12 ysara was made with a skirt of the striped mato- rial, trimmed with two ruffles, 5 inches wide, of the plain fiwod‘. beaded with a shirred ruchiog, The belted basque and overskirt wers of the plain material, trimmed with a ruffle and shirrs of the stripo. ' Sloeves of the striped goods, with broed ruflled cufls of the plain goods. A ruche finished the neck, and bows of gros-grain eilk were on the front and sleeves. A kilt-plaitea suit of Scotch plaid has the skirt made plain for 5inches below the waist, and the entire skirt laid in plaits below it. A Ligh waist, with pointed postillions and loose cont-slceves, haa a trimmipg of black braid and steol or snell but- tons. Thiais only suitable for cool days at the seaghore or in the mountains, when it will be found particularly comfortable, Lighter dresses in the same style are made of combinations of poplin and foulsrd, using plain poplin for the underskirt snd sleeves, and a figured foulard for the over- dress. Buits of scersucker, and blue and gray Linan, simply made, are worn by girls of all ages, Some of tue latter are made slighitly more dressy by wtroduciog a band of needlework above the hem in both under and over skirt, Too many of them can_hardly bs made up for country-wear, if the children ABE TO ENJOY THEMSELVES. Many pretty white dresses, that bave been made for receptions at the close of school, will nat- urally form & portion of the summer-attire, whule hco«atfinod batistes will also bo added. Sacques of light gray cloth will bo used when needed for additional warmth; while the bats are various in shaps, made to snit all faces, and aro trimmed with uantitiea of flowers. Coiffures are yarions, but prevailing stylo still scems to be to wear one long braid down'the back, or else to tie the hair back at the neck, and let it fall in Ioose curls of varyiog loogth ‘nearly to the waist. Gloves, parasols, cufls, and collars, for thess young misses, are the 8smo 8 those for older people ; and it is do rigeur that they should match the costume they u%wnm with. )élue nilll’z aod :::lrk’n onges, or gray barege trimmed with brown si Ero aiao favorite compinations i drossce: In wrappers, a pretty gabriells of bluo cash- mere, buttoned down the front with large pear] buttons, the button-holes corded with wilk, and Bwissa muslin plaitings at the neck and edging the slceves, was vei pretty. Apother, of striped h“erz was cutin Watteau shape, and trimmed with folds of the material. Broad cunffs were on the eleeves, and large pockets finished the fronts, A pretty dress for a girl of 9 years was made of light-gray cashmere, with two skirts, Loth quite ,~—the upper one-looped in the back. Ovor this was & deep, double-breasted sleoveless jacket of silk, of » dark brown, with eleeves of the cashmere. Cuffs and standing collar of silk, ipside of which were others of linen. Anothor drees was of white pique, with plain under- skirt, and round overskirt, very low, square basque, and hort-sleaves,—the banque and over- skire elaborately braided. The low waist was worn over 8 shirt-waisy of embroidery, tucking, and edging. "A DRESS OF LACE-ETRIPED BATISTE had the front perfectly plain, while across the back and side breadtha wero five raffies, which covered the skirt. Those were finished oft with bows of gros-graln ribbon. Tacked nainsook | under-waist and sleeves, over which a square- necked basque, with puffed elesves and vest- front of silk, is worn. Basquo trimmed with small pockefs and_a cording of the mlk. A brown cashmere kilt-plaited skirt fora girl of 9years hias quite & long polonnise of ecrn foulard, made double-breasted, and with revers and pookets of brown silk. This was & particu- Inrly-etylish suit. A light-blue silk, with eeven pioked and shirred ruflles on the skirt, had s lonaise of Bwite muslio, trimmed with alenciennes, and looped with a sash, ous eide of which was blue and the other pivk. A lovely dress, but requiring too much care in the wearing to bo very desirablo for a little girl. It might do for an hour's drees in mamma’s parlor, or % summer-airing in mamma’s carriage, but, for anv practicel or suitable purpose, it was utterly ‘wanting. FOR THE STILL SWALLER ONES, the preference is always for white. Before they walk, after they leave off long dresses for thie French yoke dress, unbelted afterwards, when they were running around, either the French or the Gabriells dress, fastened with broad ribbon asshes, These dresses are almost exactly simi- lar, whether for boys or girls, and, between the ages of 1and 3, are worn ndiscriminately by both. The newest eashes are of soft twilled silk, and in Bayadere etripes. The piques used for Gabriellas aro of the finest and softess kind. These bave basquea n1dcd at tho buck and sides, whilo dresses plaited into & yoke aro held at tha waist by a belt. Io bufl, gray, and blue Jinen, 248 well ag the useful seersuckers, thoy are shown for the mountaius and sea-shore, when these littlo peoplo may ba goiwg out on & daisy-sxpe- dition, or to fish in the eand for pabbles. Bfim suits are trimmed with white, buff with brown, and gray with ecarlot. They'are not especially becomung, but are very desirablo ‘for the expe- ditions above mentioned. The sacque a cape is the reccived stylo of walking: coat for small children. 1t is frequeutly elaborately ‘embroidered and -braided, bnt mors simply, and quite a8 prettily, edged only with & fintbmed rufle of fine ncedlework. Those in uff piqaé and_linen are newer in design, but not, to our thinking, so preity as the white. The Corday cape, with shirred fronts, aso roplacing the last summer's higher Normandys, and ara much sought.after. Chip hats of descrip- tions are worn by tho older ones. It is a com. mon thing to hear mothers say, I can get 2long well enough with the girls’ clothes, but 1 DON'T KNOW HOW TO DRESS THE £oYs.” In fact, that portion of creation seem dostined 1o be a troublo to the other séx from the hour they assumo a distinctive dress. When the Pro- ressionists Lave got all apparel dowa to a dead evel, and men and women wear the samo attire, it may make a difference; but, until then, mothers will atill probably be troubled abouf those first garments, while sisters and others will not be beyond the influence of atylishly- made clothea. ~For the motbers’ benofit, wo will say that, for the older of these boys, the cloh- ing-houses provide what is known as & Chester- field suit. This is mado of dark, flne cloth ; and the coat, which Ly a ahort akirt, closely imitates sk styles worn by gentlomen. 'They are simply bound with galoon ; aod, for full dress, white Efluh!oous and vest take the place of cloth oues. inen and duck swis are found desirable for Eomo occasions. Smaller boys wear knce- breeches, blouse eailor ahirts, and reofing jack- ets. Thoy are made of light cream-colorad flan- nel, and finiehed with suchors. Casimeren aro also in great demand, as tbey are decidedly washable goods,—a most desirabla thing for the young male bipéd, who would usually prefer to carry bis clothing a5 the crab does bis shell, and laundry it in the same manner. For still smaller oues tiiere are KILT BUITS OF EIGHLAND STTLE, but not neccasanly of gay plald. They &re more frequently made of a soft twilled goods known a Orientul cloth, and in shados of gray and ectn. The{xue really u great modification of the genu- ine Highland suit. The skirt is kilt-plaited, snd the jacket Lis tabs peutagonal in , while the pointad vest beuouth is buttoned J:wly to the throat, The: ekirt should fall below the knee, and ali tho pleats turn one way. A spaco is left plain in front, and then trimmed with rows of braid. They are sleo sometimes braid- ed with sontache. The buttons are of shnded wood. They are copied in white pigue for sum- mer, with box-plaits substituted for the heavier and closer side-plaits, and then are finished with Hsmburg trimmiogs. When the thermometer approsches the hundreds, theu there are plain blouses of white linen duck,which. hanging loose, are much more comfortable for the littlo ones than any fancy auray. The kngo-brocches that are first dobned are made straight aud plain, fastoniog at the kneo, or trimmed there with thres buttons. Larger boys wear hats of Milan braid, with bigh, etiff crowns and brims, the latter closoly mflog, with blue or black rib- bon-band. Hats of Dunstabla straw, with rolled tarban-brims for the lesser ones; whila those af soft English straw, with blue ribbon-band, are pretty for the litdle ones, These latter are in sailor-ghape. Gray and brown strawa are shown for rougher wear. ) FOR THE DADTES, seneible people are decidedly ehortening the clothes. It 15 only in the arge furnishing- houses, 88 models, that the old robes and skirts, a yard aud a quarter long, that requirs skirts to match, are now ween. The skirt of the infaots’ drees, which is now universally made with French Yoke and long sleeves, nsually mesyurss from 27 to 32 Inchies. This is o bless- mg, both to mothiers and babies. It savea the infant’s little spine, and it does away with a doal of supetfluous drapery which ono was at a Lea to know what to do with. A mother or nurss of medinm nelFth formerly ran the riak of steppicg on the very lengthy dress of her charge, and. trip- Ping up both herself and it. Csshmers cloaks are elthier two capos, or long sack and cape. The latier is better for winter-wear. These ara alab- orately embroidered and trimmed with rings, and welgh as much, if not more, thoa the ehild that i’ to wear them. Others, of plain cashmere, are trimmed with s fold or cord of silk. Pique aud Nainsook cloaks are trimmed with needle-work ruflica. The caps are either of lace or shirred, and are in the close, round sbape, instesd of the higher ones,—having changed as well =8 those for older girls. DRIFTING AWAY. * Got your sailing orders, mister, have you? Well, it never hurts & young chap to seo Bomo- thing of the world, I guess, and ent his eve- toeth. All the same we'll mirs yon & bit, Master Cyrll, for we bad all got to look mpon you as omeof the family; ” said a grufl, but kind voice, that had rotained its salt-water emack after a quarter of a century passed ont of sight of that tea on which its owner had spent his best years. **Yos, Dixon,” I replicd. I must go to-mor- Tow, or, ot latest, tho day sfter, to catch the vacket for Europe, and bid farewell, for some years, to old frionds and home associations. I sball often think, when abroad, of my FLEASANT VISIT 7O MINNESOTA, and how the honest Nick, yonder, taught me to handle oar ang padale, rifle, and Sish-spesr, to back & mustang and to manage & canoe, and many another accomplishment of prairie-life, 8trango 1o a city-bred stripling like myself.” ** A right smart learner wo had in you, 8ir, I will say that, though Ben Dixon never was much given to palaver ; but Iwas proud of my pupil, 80d 80 was Nick, bers, for that matter;” growled out the old man-of-wan's-man, while his less talkative Indian comrade, who sat smoking in a corner of the but, pictaresquely draped in his scarlet blanket, took the pipe from his lips to utter a guttural ejaculation of sssont. Both of thess men were n the employment of & mater- nal relative of mine, long resident at 8t. Anthony, on the upper waters of the Mississippi. I, my- sclf, Cyril Hording by name, was ‘then = Iad of 17, and was about, at my father’s desire, to start for Europe, where it was mtended that T should romain Jong enough to perfect myself in foreign languages, 28 well 33 to scquire » tharough in- sght into the business mothods of the mercan- tile house in which I was to be placed. My father, & widowor, anda New York merchant, much absorbed in his affairs, had consented to my accepting the invitation to pay a long visit to my Western oousin, Mr. Lows, the rather that it was belioved that my health would benefit by the pure air and hardy eutdoor habits of Minno- stota, and I Lisd passed many bappy months at St. Anthony. And now, strong, active, andsunburaed, T waa suddenly called ou to leave my holiday life of exercise and sport, and commence my novitiaio at the desk. A vacancy had been found for me in a great Bordeaux house of busiuess, and I was to sail at once. In spite of the natural love for change and the inquisitive eagerness to see the world, which a very young wan aimost always feols, it was with regret I made up my mind to part from the kind relatives whose bou‘pi!-llitz § had long enjoyed, aad they, also, were sorry that my sojourn beneath their roof should coms to 1 close. Nr. and Mrs. Lowe were, both of them, of gepial and generous dispositions, and tha affection which I had learned to entertain for them was reciprocated. Little Frank, with whom I was an especial favorite, cried piteously &t the news of my impending departure, and, in- deed, there was only one member of the family who expressed no gricf at the prospect of losing sight of the New York cousin, g0 long domiciled among them. THIS WAS LILY Lowe, the only daughter, » singularly protty and grace- ful child, over whose golden head some eleven summers had passed. Luly, instead of seeking my socioty, had slways scomed to shun it, mack tomy annogance, for 1 was partial to children, and generally popular among them. Sho was, however, excessively fond of her younger brother; and sce was a pet and play- mate of mine, Ifrequently took outboth the children on some boating excureion on the river or the neighboring creeks. For aquatic amuse- ments, in fact, there wore great facilities, since Mr. Lowe wasa the owner of a ministnre Hotilla of sloops, broadhorns, boats, and canoes, in which, at the proper soasons, the agricultural produce of the fertile prairie farms was trans- ported southwards. It was the eve of my departure, and had Ibeen ble to coosult myown wishes I shonld have spent the whole day with my relatives, Ihad, however, enfngod myzelf to dine with a neigh- bor, one’ Col. Baker, who hed shown me much attention since I had 'stayed in Minnesota, and I could not, without offenge to_the kind old ma, Tefuse to partake of his hospality. It was bright moonlight when I started, on borseback, to re- tarn to Low's Flat, a8 my kinsman's residence was called. It was a long ride homewards, across the springy turf of the prairle; but my wiry Little steed went faat and well, and the gallop JULY 19, 1874. Wwas a pleasani one, and quickly performed. Fresently I conid. see the ghflmm "'gx:?!hininx like a gilver ribbon in ‘tho moonbeams, and the houso, with its garden, ita orchard, shade-trees, and out-buildings, the' huts of the laborers, the woodpile, and the boats moored to the river- bank. I 'wag to start on the morrow, and it was for the last time forsome years to come—par- Laps forever!—that I should look npon that pesceful ecene. Helf mechanically, Idrew my rein, and checking my horee, gazed musingly on the calm prospect bafore me. As I did g0, I was surprised to SEE A WIITE FIGURE GLIDE {rom amidut the blossomed shrubs of the well- ténted garden, pass through the wicket-gate, s0d move oowa; Half doubtful whether I might not be tne dupe of eome optical lusion, or of my own_fancy, T rubbed my eyes, and then again looked ear- nestly towards the apot whers I bad last beheld this unaccounntable apparition. Yes, there was the white figure sure enongh, gliding on, slowly bat steadily, towards the river. It was no dream —no hallucination—yet what could its presence at this untimely hour protend? At this instant my horse, impatient at being thus kept from tho stable and the corn bin, neighed lond and shrilly, bat the eound did not seem to reach the ears of tho porson on whom I was gazing, for there was 10 start and no panse, but alvays and ever the same steady gliding motion, riverwards. Who would be likely to be abroad at such an honr? 'Then, tao, the low etsture forbade the notion that the ghostly-looking form before me could be that of “one of the negroes or white field-bands employed about the place. A child, rather; but why, in the name of commoa senso, should » child be sstray at such s time of the night? And then there roseupin my mnd & vague suspicion that some one might have planned a trick, s mock apparition to test my courage or credulity, and that it behoved ms to upmaslk the deception. 1 dismounted, -nd,kmmnin% my horse's bridle to the nearest enake-fence, I mads mi ‘way on foot swiftly but cautiously towards the place where I had last seen the white figure. It haa disappeared, but, on emerging from amidst the trees, I beheld a sight which froze my blood with speechloss horror. THE, CHILD, LILY— my beautiful little consin—Lily Lowe—I knew her now, with the lustre of the moonbeams fail upon the golden locks that hung down upon her shoulders, and half concealed her face. Bhe wora a white wrapper, but 1 noticed with a fhrill of surprite that her small feet were quite bare, and that there was something spectral in the noiseloes tresd with which she sdvanced. She was close, Dow, to the plsce whers, ata sors af wharf, rudely constructed of the 'barked logs, boats ware moored. What, in Heavan's name, was ehy doing? Surely, surely, she oould not intend to cast off the lnahings by which yonder light canoe i aitached to the banki Yes, such is indced the case, and now—*" O stop, cousin—Lily, stop!® I shoute theso words alond, and darted forward as { did €0, for to my amazement the young girl had ac- tually stepped fnto the canoe, grasped the pad- dle, and was_apparently pushing off the frail craft from the bank into the stream. Tomy horror, loudly as I had uplifted my volce, she to whom it waa'sddressed did not hear or heed. And then there rushed upon me, with overpow- ering forco, tha consciousnass of ths true hore ror of tha situstion. Thers was no mistaking tant strango glassy look, that dreamy carrisga of the head, the half-helplees action of the bands that held the paddle. It was avident that on Liliy had bet 'WALXLYG 1N HER SLEXP, that she was, for the time, but dimly alive to the existenca of swrounding objects, to the ontery of my warning vaice, the mere passive elave of her own unhealthy fancy. 1 bad scanty tims far doubt or fordeliberation, for already the canoe was speeding past, impell ed by the quick rush of the current, What was tobedone? The stream of the Mississippi, swollen by the rains which had fallon heavily in thoes more nartherly regions whero its feeders have their rise, was by far too strong tobe coped with by the fecble arm of a girl of Lily's years, oven had ehs been by much more ecompetent to wield the paddle than wasthe case. And the ‘weak strokes which she gave as ehe slowly bal- anood the polished pioco of tough birchwood were acinally calculnted to nssist, not to stem, the force of the furious rver. Even mow, I could hoar the low menscing roar of the Falls below,—tbo Palls of Bt. Antbony,—which were but at » short distance, while my blood ran cold at tha thonght that, if she onoce drifted thus far, human help conld not_avail o preservo Lily's young life from inevitable destruction. There ‘Wwaa Borosthing piteous in the sight, a8, all un- conscious of her peril, she floated off in her frail bark, gradually nearing the middle of the swolien Tiver. Hegjtation at such a- erisis would be fatal. There was Do time to awake tho slumbering tenants of the bute, and to procuro sid. What- ever waa to be done had to be effected by myself alone. But what conldIdo? There were the Iarge sailing boats, techpically known as broad- horns, close at band, but at least two men are roquired to manage these clumay craft, while tho only light sliff bad sustained some injury the weak before, in_striking on a submerged trea above the rapids, and was now under repsir. Yet the only hope of saving Lily, who was fast receding from my sight, was to overtake her be- fore hor fragile bark should be caught in the BITOW-BWift current that namows as it nears the Falls. ln the hurry and excite- ment of the moment I sprang into the nearest and emallest of the broadhorns, cast off the mooring rope, epread the sail, and thrust off tho large boat from the shore, and then STARTED IN PUBSUIT. Well I knew that the venture wes a desperata one, a5, the sheet firmly grasped in one hand, whils the other held the tiller, I went quickiy down the river before the brisk breeze. At any instant s squall of wind, such a8 is nob nnfro- quent in that latitude, might either capsize the broadhorn or cause her to gronnd upon a shosl, since my single strength was insuflicient for the proper hnndglmg of such & craft. Then, too, should I become involved in the rapids, nothing, clearly, could prevent the boat from going stern onover the Falls. Thers was but one chance to come up with the cauoe before safety bocame impossible. 3 ; ortunately, the favorable wind blew steadily from the north, without flaw or shift, and pre- eently I saw with satisfaction that I was coming upwith the canoe. Luly had censedto paddle, and eat motionless, ber blue eyes gazing forth, it seemed to bo, on vacancy ; while her goldon bair fluttered in the breezo, and her white wrap- par bore, in the shimmering moonlight, a wierd resemblance to a shroud. Very near, now, wers the dreaded Falls. Theireullen roar was louder, more_ threatening, than before, and I could seo the glancing cloud of spray that rose beneath, and the foam on the lip of tbe cascads, and tha crumbling, water-worn islets, with their willows and mimosss trembling in the rash and boom of the Falls, The boat was now closo to the canoe; and, with a dexterity and cool- ness that astonished myeelf, I mada fast the end of the sheet to tho thwart nearest me, steered a3 mear asI dared fo the little bark of Indian costruction, and, ecrambling into it with the eantious hoedfuinesa which i8 never more needod than wheroa canoe is in question, gently took the paddle from Lity’s passive hand. Asif mytouch had bsd some magic in it, the child awoke from her rapt sta- por, gazed wildly, balf incredulously, aa I thought, around her, and then, with A WILD SCREAX OF AGONIZED TEREOR, crouched down in the cauoe and clung to my knees calling on me to save her. What struck me, 100, even then, wsa that she msed, in ad- dressing_me, for the first time, my Christian namo.. She had nover befora spokento me otherwise than ns “Mr, Harding,” in spite of the playful chiding of parents and brother. Now, it wes “Cyril, dear Cyril” Bat this I set down to the anguish of her present tarror, for the moment was one of deadly peril, Already the cenoe was being whirled around like & float ing chip, by the strong_eddies, and it waa only by the most sustained exertions thatI could paddieit inehore. At last, howsver, I luckily got near enough to grasp the tough bonghof a willow, and, drawing the canog up- to the trunk of the ' tree, I lsshed it firmlyto a projecting root, and, lifting Lily to the baok above, awung myself up and &tood in safety by her side. As I did so, the child I)olnted with a trembling hand down the river. flooked, and was just in time to see the broadhorn, the sail still M%Eo head- long to destruction over the Falla. en Lily covered her face aud buret into an agony of hyi~ terical toars, which bafiled all my efforts “to goothe her, snd it was all that Iconld doto bring the poor child eafely back to her home, and consign her, still wildly wecping, o her mother's care. I prefer to pass over the scone that ensued. Buffice it that tho alarm as to Lily's direful danger, and the thankfulness to Providence for her safety, on the part of the child's fond arents, were decp and earnest. Nor were they [ees gratoful fo mveelf, her youthfnl rescuer, for lgb servico I had had it in my power to render, in preserving to them, aa the mothor said, their lost lamb. Bnt my hours at St, Anthony were pumbered. I started, on the day that followed that memorable night, for New York, and for the shores of the Old World, and, 33 biad previously been planned, SPENT BOME YEARS, and those busy omes, in Europs. I am afrmd that new occupations and pow companions 1n & measura weaned my ughts from the recollection of my o frienda 1n the West. and sbat my oo gpondence with the Lowes waa but fitful and oor in the direction of the river. - 1 caslonal. I heard, however, with regret, that poor little Lily's Hoctumal iventure hadbace 8ucceeded by the risk and delirium of a fever, from which, a8 I afterwards learned, her recov- ery wasalow and tedious. It must, I fancied, have been o her account that the family more fraquently left their home for change of air than had previously been usual with tkem, and that I heard of them at SnnLoFl, at Newport, and at other places of fashiousble resort. Ouce, t00, traveler from Mionesota was warm in hiy praise of Lily's budding beauts, and predicted o brilliant marriago for her, but 6 my imagination sho still remained the child whom I had suved i i eft America s a dtripling; but when I recrossod the Atlantio It was ¢ a grotn men. who had served his navitiate in business matters, and who was now snmmonod back to. take thg rincipal part in tho .management of our New ork firm, since my fathers faiing. bocith o longer permitted of his active supervision of tho mercantile house which was In Tuture to be known 25 that of Harding & Son. Before, howayer, going steadily into commercial harness, [ devoted soms months to visiting the most remarkable citieg andscenery in the South and Weat, and had promised, 3t my relatie’s urgent invitation, to spend at any rate a week or two with wy former entertainers, the Lowes, ‘in Minnesota. The hospitable family recoived mo with oven mors than their old kindness, but there was one sur Prise which awaited me'at Bt. Anthony, that im.. prossed me more than anything elss that I had soen since my refurn $o my native shores. I {found Lily—whose image had never recurred to me save as & child—grown into a besutifnl young woman, THE MOST BEA 25 it scomed to me, that I had ever seon. There was, indeed, nothing por- tentous in this, for there had been time enough for the bud to expand into the flower, and. Lily's charming face had given early promise of the Tare loveliness which now dazzled me. I could scar bring myself to believe that this grace- fal highly-bred girl, 8o accomplished, so 8ch- ssessed, and so much admired, could ver bave beon the ehrinking little creature whom I bad saved from drowning. I heard incidentally that she was accounted, éludy enough, one of the protticst giris in the State, where besuty is yot plentiful enough, and that it was not for want of attentive cavaliers or of offers of mar- riage from citizens of high position that she was naL:l ihe hiead of some sumptuous estab- onl Timt I fellinlove at first sight, 8o to gpeal with my cousin Lily, I am not ashamed w’%w& Nover before, or 80 I thought, had I beheld such rare loveliness as hers, whila the expression of her aweet, pure face, aud the evident pride and affection which her kindred and the dependanta of the housenold entertained forher, proved that £he he had other oxcellencies than 'tuat of mere beauty. I rogrottad, however, to find that in ong respect sbe was nnalf Her manner towards myself was, as of old, COXSTRAINED AXD €OLD, nor did she masifest any particular plensure at sceing me again. In fact the frigid indifferance of ber bearing towards me was only tompered by the m&ui.rsmenh of politencas fowards a visitor, nor did ber eyea rest on my faco with any intor~ est in their expression. Aftor all, why ehould 6he care forme? The service I had once had the good luck to do for hor she had probably ak- most forgatten. No doubt the memory of that night had long since been effaced from the recollection of the queenly bells of 80 many ball-rooms. Yet I was unreasonable enough to feel hurtand piqued that this should be the cass. Howaver, if Lily did not care for seeing hor old friend sgain, her parents and her brother, now grown 1o be & frank-spoken Iad, killed, metaphorically, the fatied calt to do me'hanor, and oa the vary day of my return they gave a plenio party ta which the moro intimate’ of their neighbors were invited, at those very Falls of 8t. Anthoay that bad so nearly, on the oceasion of my!last visit, been the scena of o tragicincident. Mr. and Mrs. Lowe repestedly referred to tho past, cordially praisiog me far the courage and presence of mind which I had exhibited in 8o difficuit o dilemma. The guests awelled the chorus of eulogy, but Miss Lowe remained frig- idly indifferent to the entire snbject. Later an thera was gome converustion as fo my Earopesn experionces, and some one, on the strangth of a rumer derived from the gassip of some passing courist, eoupled my name with that of a French heiress, a well-known beauty of Bardeaus,whom Touly knew as 3 | artner in & ronnd dance, but to whom 3 waas conlideutly assumed that I was to bo msrried. I disclaimed the imputation, Iaghe ingly st first, more earnestly afterwards, ancat last—I kmew not why—mith somewhat of irrita- tion. And as I begged. flushing as I spoke, to hear no mare silly jests, concerning myself sod Msdemoiselle Cornelia Boncrn, I saw Lily's eyes fixed on me with AN FXRXSTI0N WHICR I COULD NOY FATROM, tutas her glance met mine, it was instanily withdrawn. Wa did not exchange a word more daring tno remsinder of that day, but when night came, and it was tims to retire to ropuse, I could not sleap, but sst long 2% the open swin. dow of my chamber, lacking forth acroea tho magnolias_snd rose-bushics of the garden, to where the brosd bright moonlight silvered the turf of the grassy path bosond.. How had all things altersd with me aince the Jast night when T had thus seen it, the night of Lily's rescua ! How chauged was Lily Lerself, and yet into how lovely agirl had my child-cousin developed ! “What 8 pity that her old sversion for myyelf, her old coldness towards me, remsined a8 they bad been when, in her early youth, she showed her- self go unwilling to bo my companion! Why bad I been foolish eaough to return to St. Anthony, aod to entangle my own hesrt, alas | in the mazes of a passion which I felt wsa hope- less? However, one thing I detsrmined. In A day, or two days at farthest, no matter on what prelext, I woaldleavo Hinnosota, thus tearing my self away from—Hal What was that? Doubt- less it was a Pucklike trick of my own heated fancy, which made me think that I saw, skictiug the fence,and emerging from the shade of the cottonwood, a white, GHOBTLIKE QUTLINE OF A FEXALE FO: the golden hair glotming in the opal meoufizht. No, this a8 no delusion. Lily Lowe—and no othar—she whoeo cluldish footeteps I had trac2d of old—grown to be a womau now, but gliding, with noiselees tread, riverwards as on that other night. Hardly taking time to think, 1 lefs my room, hurried down-stairs, and in a moment more was in the garden. T passed through the wicket, roached the grass-grown path beneath the fitful ehadows of he poplars, strained my eyes in the vam endeavor to catch sight of the vanished figure, and began to feol heartily shamed of being the dupe of my own ~excited imagination, After all, how oonld it be reasonable to attribute to yonder graceful and admired maiden, the ro- membrance of whose proud glance yet haunted the capricions fancies of a sickiy ebild? I had made ap yay mind to roturn to the house, whon suddenly I canght s plimpse of somotbing white, far off, on the very bank of theriver. A female form, , peesumasbly tiat of Lily, and eloso, to the best of my remembrance, to tho spot, whence, years ago, I had secn the child cast 10066 the canoe from Ha moorings. Iran forward at my fallest sod, on reaching the bank, bebald a might which caused, for the moment, my very heart to ceaso beating. A light birchen canoe, either the same or of identical construction;with that of Lily's early adventure, was drifling slowly down the river. The water in the Mississippi, which had dwindled under the influence of months of hot weather, Was by far lower than on the previons occasion, and the progress of the frail craft lesa mapid than of old, but stull it was borne on, helpless, by the current, whils still, at some distance, ross up the hoarse and hollow marmur of the Falls. 1n the canoe stood the figure of a young girl WHOX I CODLD NOT DOUBT TO LE LILY. She wore the same lighi-colored dress which T bad scen her wear st the picnic party, bug her hair floated loose over her shoulders, in all ita olden Juxarisoce. Her face I eould not see, gn: she held the paddle, nnuzed, m one listless band, while the other one hung idle by her eide. No doubt existed in my mind buf that it was 2gain on a somoambulist that my eves rested, and this was the more eingular because—No, po. Quite thank Heaven!™ had been M. Lowe's reply to my halt-carclees inquiry, on arriving, &8 to her dsughter’s dangerous habit, Bot Lily it was who was before mo, driftiog _down, surely and smoothly, to mest ber desth, even as hsd been the case on the other night so long ago. And how, since fate had made me again an eye-witness of the act, should Isave her? To summon aid would bo to waste he precious moments, Lefore the men who inhabited the buts could be sstir, it wonld be bus a lifeless form that their exer tions could drag from among the rocks and pools below. Agaia I must rely on myself, and myself alone, and sccordingly 1 bounded fo the rude wharf, acd sought, with haggard eyes, for & boat which wonld serve my purpose. The rule, how- ever, that no twa sets of circumstances &ro ex- actly alike, in this case held good, for excopting a waterlogged scow, wholly naelesr, and the un- lucky canoe in which Lily bhad embarke there was not one craft that was not secure. by stout mooring chains and strovg padlock that defied my feverish efforts. With bruised and bleeding fingers 1 desisted from the fatile at- tempt to furce _the fastenings, and ran swiftly down the bank, calling oui loudly to Lily to awake and bocome canscious of ber direfal peril. But I might as well havo addrested my words of Warning to s marble statue. Onceor twice, I gencied that the girl slghtly shivered, but kept her fuce averted, and was evidently stl} under the fatal influence of the trance. What was I to do? . TIE FALLS WERE NEAB KOW; their hoarse ront was like that of a wild beast, hungry, aud expectant of its prey, while low s waa the water in the nver, already the canoe had begun to dance aud quiver on the tiny whirk pools and fosm-lecked eddies above the smooth, swift channel of the rapids. Once caught in these, uno boat, aeven werg it maoned by sirong rowers, could avoid ehooting the perilous Falls, I waas ood Bwim- mer, sud twice I was on the point of plunging inio the river, bat the reflection that the cano¢ would probsbly be upset, and Lily drowned, i1 my valn attempt to tow it £0 land, restrained me Meanwhilo tho canoe had reached the rapids, and was on lika an arrow. It was by ay exertion that eeverely tried my strongth that I waa the first to gain the Falls. Thare, on the brink of the rush of waters, I halted, gaeping, and saw the canoe come hurrying down on thy oy 1o ita destruction, the fairy figure that wag {ts sole occupant still atnndinixmotionkfls, ane heedful of my voice or of the threatening boont of the cataract. - There are suprome moments in our lives when we appear to act and think simultaneons- ly. This was one ona of them; for, with a bound that afterwards mstonished myself, I cleared a strotch of frothing water, sprang, or Bcrambled, from stone fo stone, and af last reached a sandy islet, a mere mound, crambling away under the action of the ilood, butthe scauty earth of which adhered to the roots of a huge old willow tree, the woeping branches of which had probably dipped their silvery leaves in the turbid wator befors a whits man had ever beheld the upper course of the Missiasi ippi. I threw my arms aroand a mighty bough of this . old tree, and, bending til I touched the water, awnited the oucoming of the canoe, My first grasp failed; bot, by another and more desperate effort, I' confrived to lay hoid of tho gunwale as it was waahed me. The oventa of the next fow seconds I have never been abls to.recall. otberwise than as & con- fused recolleotion, like tho incoherent memary of adream. That the impetus of the drifting canoo was too much for my single strength to withstand, that I was half submerged beneath the foaming flood, and might have been torm {rom my eaving Lold, I know or guess. That Lilly awoke, with a smothered, wailing ery ag the “slight bark keeled over, and that we wers both in the river, and in no small danger of being sucked over the Falls to cartain death, X alko remember, but ‘more vaguely. Ay memory chroicles moro accurately the moment when, wot and drenched with water, I placed THE RESCUED GITL mound at the foot of the willow ing her slender waist, she leant sobbing on the mossy troe, with my arm encircling and soothed her terror as sgainst my shonlder. . in! aguin!” she exclaimed, 28 if in galf~ roproach. ‘*For the second timo yon hare snatched me, cousin, from the very jaws of death—me, the ungratoful one, so cold, o, proud, so hard! Oh, Cyril, dearest, how you mast have hated me to give you such a welcoms asIdid?" I thought ¢ hor mind was wan- dering, that sho knew not what she seid, and strove to calm her ; but it was to no purpose. The barrier of convontional restraint, of icy do- corum, waa broken, and she continued to “take blame to herself for what she called her heart- Iess treatment of myself. Hush, hush, dear Mise Lowe, X eaid, embarrassed by her emotion ; “ you think too much of what I did for you, and which apy manin my place would have gladly done. IownI was a little disappointed when you seemed to have forgotten ms, and"— “Can you mnot guess the _reason?” she asted, " half impatiently. could not. “That French lady at Bordeaux — they fold me, " a3 a ‘fact, that you were about to be married to ber, and speedily, 8o I— 1—~in my foolish, wicked pride—" It was now my turn to interrupt. “Surely, said I, my Dbeart wildly throbbing, “swrcly your words yould, inaply that you did core for mo » Lite, Lily?” Ly this time torches were to be seen, and men's shouting voices heard, along the siver- bank. My calls had been heard, and aid was at hand; so that we nced not, sa I had thonght probable, await morning for our deliverance from our uncomfortable perch upon the apray= washed 1slet. But Lily seemed to care nothing for the torches or the shants of those who hare ried up. *Blind!{” she murmured, with a awea( n;finchlulncas, ‘‘not to perceive that, even az acl I LOVED YOU; ibat my cold manner, my roeerve, all sprang from my deep, trae fonduess for one ko ra. garded me merely 88 & cousin. I woul:have died sooner than make this confession, b:i: thal —but that Ithought Isaw that you loved me, Cyril.” And I clasped my priceless troasure ta my heart. y tale has becn told. Lily has nover again been guilty of sleop-walking, of which hablt her family Lad Lelisved ber to bo fully cured, as, in- deed, scemed to bave been the case, until my re- turn; and the picnic awakened nsgociations in her mewmors which Ead, for the second timo, all but proved” faial in their consequences. There i8 no Miss Lowe now to bs the belle of Minnesota ball-rooma; but no man has a truer or mare beantiful wife than haa blessed the lot of Cyril Harding.—AU the Year Round. o SABBATH-MORNING. Wake, sated alumberer! wake and soo The glories of the world ast frea From mistand night : Morning, whea Nature brightly glows, 15 santed 11l for duil repose ; Arize aud bless the Source whence flow, All glarious light, A soothing calm is in the nir That comforte me, and all my care Dissolyes in rest,— Such reut 84 ne'er to'man is gisen Fave when at with Earth aud Hesven,— Tiest docpest felt by those who've striven Wikl uln oppreseed. Who wakes nof at the Sabbath-dswn, Nor feels that balf his burden’s gons With fta blect light, Must stranger to devotion be A sinzer ne‘er awaked to sce The beauties of a Life made froe From sin's dark blight. Oer all a holy stillness dwells, Tnbroken sive by Babbath-bella That cad to pray 3 In loving taaes they seem to ey, Tarn, wanderer, turn thy feet to-day ; Trurrue no more the downward way,: Way of deszalz, Gnd sends elike the sun and shower On glant oak aud lowliest flower, “And heeds the sparrow’s fall ; Then trunt Hum for all noeded gracs ; With zeal and courage run the race,— Your goal a mansion, ftting place To wear crown immortal. Cmicaco, July 17, 1574, T. 8, Monrwox, e ¢ Cemctery Sam,” Fyom the Bureka (Cal.) Cupel, o was not reticent, neithar was ha difident ; but he wan glib of toligue and poescesed many accomplishments which are taught and appra- ciated through the interior. He could jump into the air, crack his heels together four dis- tinct times, sud, when he landed,—stiff legge —could repeat the well-known “T am a thief in a manner that betokened long practice and quiet determination. When he fonnd himself the centre of the right sort of an andience, ha could assume & nmonchalant air and lead tha conversation into the proper channel, when ha would begin counting upon his fingers the number of private cemeteries he had estab- lished, and then, fingers being insuflicient, ha would call for a sheet of paper that the namber each contaned might be correctly enamernted. His first appesrance in Eurekn was made lsst uight, and be introduced himself as ** Cemetery Bam,” pave the particulars of his receiving the patronymic, and stated that be was from Pioche ; was 3 “gun-fighter,” and asked if_any thera were who doubted his statement. He sloshed around considerably daring the ovening, and by dint of suavity and terror—each spplied aa cir~ cumstances demanded—he succeeded in loading himself with nectar, ere the midnight hoar. Then he girded up his loms and declared his determination to start & corpse-factory, bat in order that his vicims might know who they had tho benor of being elain by, he thought proper to offer expla- nation, and in 8o doing carried on & sact of informal dislogue, atking the questions with formal and grave earnestuess and answeriug with gunoing lightness, thus: * Who was it in~ augurated the graveyard at Rocky Bar, bocause 8 barkeeper refused bim a drink >—Guess it was Cemetery Sam.” *VWho was it caused the first Orphan "Asylum to be started in Montana ?— Cemetery Sam wag the feller.” * Who was it made a public administrator rich in Eastern Oro- gon ?—I'm mistaken if it wasn't Cemotery S8am.”™ * Who was it that "— Here some oze present who evidently thought the thing was becoming monotonous, smote Szm heavily, and the Iatter felL When ko aross, he continued the monologus by asking : * Who was stru-k by lightning just now ?—If my mamorsy serves me night, it must bavo been Cemetery Sam.” —Who docs not wish to go to Manhansetaha~ chueawommock? There is a place of that nama delightfally situated in Gardiner's Bay, ac the enstern end of Long Islsnd. Courteous dwellers in the neighborhoop tell us that the nama signis £es ““an island gheltered by islands.®