Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, November 1, 1874, Page 11

fi ide kuife-plaitin THE CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 1874—SIXTEEN PAGES. 11 y the dog, and the whole matter resolved itself MIZPA xious eyes peering curiously into her face, his | peals all unheeded, and up above the purple hills METROPOLITAN MODES. e ghfort fo Reintroduce Tclrctcc'n Skirts *"_4 Leaning to Woolen Skirts for Hid-Winier. —_— . gloeves for Dinner ard . Parly L Robes-—Low Pempadeurs and puffed Chemiscttes. i e Presses Lacced Behinde-. Pnfiymcgnnt pinner-Gown. b —_— with Everything- superscde Velvet. S pyom Our Oicn Correepondent. SO OUT 05T @ Yon, Oct, 28, 1574, _elv healhenieh to bo thinking of I “““‘:‘"Z“’.p«. in this antumu-sanehine, e '“1 gm exist ont of doors is happiness when SR ing credulity to0 much to eaongh It 38 CC M ibat it is only & month osk ‘”"k.?m,n ‘o not quite two to Christ- o TorebSTE 0 b changeatleneos of . I8 The wretched being deserves e model Bepublican who could by ‘mere of weather thun the perfect o bright month of October has e 7 [a trath, ever einco last New Year's, T ad litlo to complain of,—no excessive ""u jo winter,—0o suicide-inspiling heat m O mers sod, uless the last to of tha twelve O ive e to their stormy tempers, 1674, e focality, will stand ot a8 3 year of years B (b fasbionsble Now-Yorkera do not adopl the French custom of staying in the country till the firei. part of December, 1t is diflicult to di- e ¢ would give them & chance to enjor Natore in a0 aspect they are totally uofamiliar e more than that, it wonld offer them &0 opportunity to wear & ceortain class of costumos P their eacly resurn to town forbids, The Jormer rezson, to be sure, is not of much con- sequence ; but tbe latier (to maay of them) is oot o be ighely igmored. All the French bulle- tins are filled with descriptions of chateaux dresses,—to beworn between the beginning of Qctober and December,—a olass for which we pave o parallel. Instead of -njt_r_ving these Jovely between-costumes, e hegfn to plan yinter-garments ere we have 1aid aride summer- *rappings —tbus dividing our vear into but two semsons. Well, pethaps we gain in one ‘way, if we lose in another. Thero is no distrac- tion when once we centre our thougite on 'WINTER-SUITS. For these an effurt Wil be made to remtroduce relveteen skarts, which, though extremely popu- i ans, bave vever been so bets, Our no- Lions aze too extravagant to permit us the use of o mitation where the gevwna is o be had: 3nd thus we have cut ourzelves off from several exoellent materials, Velvet is not very servicea~ ple for the petticoats of sireot-costumes, siuce dsmp, ard mud, and slush, defacotatonce; but yolvetcen (oow made slmost 38 haodsome as Telvo) . seally durable, aud does not suffer ee- riously from ths weather. The French wear it in pisin, short (escaping the ground by ag inch), untrimmed skirts, matching 1o color, if not in Ehade, the polopaise or_overdress. The horeto- Tore-radispeeable black skirt, wom with every variciy of upper garment, is less indispensable this scason tuan for & lovg time before, 1In fact, the; reference in all coetumes s tobare petticoats matchiug the hue of the rest of the suit. Hencs. the pretty velseteens come in all the shades of cloth and camel's bair. ¢ There is, too, » wnolesoma leaning toward the making of woolen ekirts of the rame stuff as the upper_garmect, for suits des_jfined for mid-win- ter. So thoroughly bave &ilk skirts takea the place of these, during the past year, that an entire woolen euit appesrs raiber in the guise ot ovelty. Where 60 beavy stufls a8 camel’s bair, drap d'ete, diagouals, etc., are employed, the tcanbest aud fiattest frmmings possible are choren. A good deal of worsted ewbroidery, end rows of titan &nd other braids, together with worsted fringes, and fur and featber bands, appear 1n thesa genstble and comfortable suits. ud ita noticeable jnall styles of dress how Duch more manufactured inmmings are used taan they have been; and, of course, there is amma_:qndhg decroase of garmiture made of 6 ma! Red Hingled Mate- Jasse to d gaya this whol THIN SLEEVES ar8 the Istest freak for dinner and party robes. Yesy pretsy they are, wicbal if the arm beneath beatall rooud. No matter what the waterials of the gown be, the Bleeves must b transparent, croeuly so. For instance, in velvet are set dloeves of Chambery geuze, tissue, 2ud silk erensdiae; while, w 6ilk and satiu, yon sce all these, i addition to face, tarleton, and Eaglish crape. Bometimes, the sleeves are puffod, either verueally or humzontally, fiom shouider to vwmist; sometimes, they are puffed tothe elbows, baving deep frills below ; sometimes, they are plain, and clinging to the arm half-way down, with deep ruftes to finish them. The effectof these sleeves in a trifie pecubar at finst; but oue £00m growa to like them, for they are frequently mede to gave an airy and coquettish apj earance 1o an cthernise sombre, or, at least. plain gown. Where any i swfi—notacly silk gauze snd @pe lisee—is used an part of the tnmming of an evening-dress, the aleeves, of conrse, are of the same ; bat, where the sleeves are the only gossamer portion of tue tollette, they may bo of &y fabric lked. __ ASOTHER FANCY, of mingling thick and thin, is the eu“jnfi of- silk waisis uto low pompadours, and Slling the oeck with puffod chemisettes of any transgatent geods. Natarally, wth such necks. thin sleeves azd ekirt-garuftares of the eame are employed. [This !tfi!z I8 8io geen in silk where two shades rocombined. Iusuch cases tle neck is cut in £010% 4 equars 28 o mako the waist merely a bodice, of the darzer ehade; while the chemi- sette—or yoke, 8 it really is—is puffed of tue lighter ahade.’ As may be supposed, this is spceially becoming toslender Sgures.] So popu- larare these thin necks and Bieeves becoming, at thers ia 3 fair prosgect of doing away with w-necked gowes entirely,—a change that will be heiled by many with delight. Wnting of 4 WAISTS ;Jmnda mo that the bouies to sll party-dresses, pisaand low,—aud cometimes to uiuner-dresses Alto.—are laced bebind, instead of buttoning in bgmn It is 1eally becoming; but 1t gives an ‘4, a0d rather girlish, air to the waists of so- s middle-aged women. The lacing is_pecul- o m:;‘ér}:a to_n;e ?D“'dflmm Snece uslo speciaily adapted to round, youtli- mm,fg“"" For guls avd young, el thisns Inced bodies are, in the neck, cat pointed m:fl' and behind,—the edge of the neck bor- fr1ed by Grecian folds of the material,—aud Ii:i.‘:.n° 3 ringle row of plaited lace or liese in- H AN ELEGANT DINKER-DRESS Bixlfler this fashion. It 18 very pale cafe-nu- oy Eroe-grain, and g0 _simple a3 Blmost to seom 1ve been made £o by mistake. The long bas three, straight, back widths, wholly un- B'nlnlxenu:fl. and geton tothe belt in large ¢ box-plits. The bottom of the frout th and two side gores is bordered by a fin- Heading that, is a puff m reversed plaits,—tho plaits being thie "g of the knife-plaits, znd the puff the width ¢ rafle. Then, sbove this, laid on in g;flpl of three, with a row of finger-wide, eelf- i red fringo, edging each group, are two-inoh Poing folds set diagonally from the back gored w o0 the right, to the” coresponding sesm the lefr. The waist 1s Inced in tne back ; has 18 g squaro basques before and behind 5 !mgu high in the meck, except in o There1t iscutin a deep but very narrow xzi.‘:Fa‘lmx\'. ‘This is bordered by two folas and ol l;n-l 21 inch-wide box-plaiting of silk et {tde the neck, 10 stand up like s ruche. Tho ceves are clinging cozt-sbape, having a narrow, nd n ' cuif set under the edge of the sleeve finishied by o] large cozd), and turning baifyorel tho band. " Around the left siesve, o s between wrist and elbow, is tied a scarf .mm; Ema—fr_mn, with fiinged ends. Thisgowa e 4 €0 plain andt almost mesgre in_ descrip- t nll'd“w the general elaborations known ss hoyieth that I feor you will mob hulf-realize 07ant it is ; and yet every one who has Judgment on it here declares it to be as Delfection in tasto as it is the lot of mere quat toschieve, As for the prosaio details of 5 ty, I chould eay it could ecarcely have iy u?;!r eiglitean or nioeteea yards to make meugun over the thiriy or forty yarde kiteg, es demaaded by modistes for such toi- 0 ODDS AND ENDS. _hfg:nlmeugmu stsles of ekirt-trimming, :zgw ;Erm;s nx: J%;u. i8 = gathered re from threc-quarters of W91 Geap belung, narrowing to three-six- and headed by & shured bLand six Incbes wide. i Cardinal—indeed, all shages of—red are #0 hiFhlv esteemed this eeason that they are mingled with everything that good, and indiffer- ent, taste allows. The most successful com- binations, however, ere with black and white,— the former being prefeircd. For demi-dress, black eilk with cardival red pipings, cordings, and facinee, Is ven&)npnlu‘. All tho imported strect suits show short skira; anda fex modisice are bold enough to inutate them to a limited exrent. Thev seem to Dbave taien weil thus far, and 1t may chance that tho unconquerable desire for change on the part of the fashionable mind may accompiish a needed reform, which good sense aud convenience bave failed to bring about. If the shades of our ancestors conld revisit the eartn, this would be & good tune for them to come: for our thiifty grandmoiners would flud us clad in the bomespun they prided themselves upoa. To be eure, it is not epun at home. En- giand sonds it to us, and tho mediumy who bring it chargo from 50 ceuts to %1 a yard for it. Nevertuolesy, it is a stout woolen fabric, admi- 1ably adapted to ordinary winter-use, and prom- ises to bo a favorite. Mutelasse grows space in the nopular heart, 2nd goes apace into the popular pocket; for no €ong can buy it, 10t eveu o prims dooua's, naless her notes of the score be accompanied by a scote of othier (bank) notes, . It promises 1o’ surpass velvet for rich cloakings, und, trimmed wich fur or feathers, it is mnot imferior in elegance. Though used for cuirasses, atc., it ia ill-adap'ed to indoor necesxities, ag it is 8o warm and thick 28 to expose Lhe wearer to taking cold on leaving it off, Funvxrow. a IS — CHICAGO. [Ihe Rev. Prof. W. §. Blanchard has in manuscript a poen of abofit 2,000 Lines on “The Rebuildiog of Chicago—1lfer Past aad Future,” which will sool Le pubtished, Below are some extracts from the same,] I Chicago, prond, gigantic, quecnly mart, Great Fresdom's banners o'er thy luwers unfurled, The pride, the glory, of the bunian heart, Great beaconing orb to an advancing world, Where Fortune suules in sunoeaws bright, impearled, Tuy History, Fame, the Muee would juyous trace : Whie faLes once siarred aro to oulivion iuried, And aucient empircs, crumbled, find no place, Thou, s one, Tisest to dare thy beams through i m No lfeless, sickening tale of somtro guise, Of mircreant deeds, Tevenge, or deep-stamed crims, Thy advent, growt unpuraticled, supplics: Born 1a a day, brigist-crowned thy worning-prime, O'erthrown, rebuiit, new wounder, starthng Tune, Beside 1hy sky-tinged (ryetal lake to stand, To wax, flourish, sTow statelier, subiime; No empty urn within thy withered hand,— Slugmiticant, unmatched, in peeriess grandeur grazdy 111, s gleam, fhe flash of sabreeateel, The bandit's tread, the weird, the starcling Cry, Fierce foeman’s onsct, cunton's thunderous peal, Darkening with thundcrous suioke Heaven's canopy, Dread warrior's pluice; war's ghiticriug blazoury, Myriads in deatls, sleoping in dust aud gore, Fiezce cavalior's Crusades, knight-ecrantrs, Tuings of low pride, the Dzee, the vsin, adare,— Unkuown along thy piilured, purple-crested ehore | Here, from first roseate morn when Nature woke Tus ‘Bower-decked praisics, charmed with besaty's smile, The gentls waters in soft accents broke, Save when the tempeat stole the march the while, 1furling ferce thunderbolts, from Heaven's ensculp- ured pile, $Wide o'er the virgin, soft, unbroken scene,— Naugut, naught, to darken, mar, deface, defls, Tho star-eyed, sitken verdure, niantiing green, Heflociod by the lake's ure, crysial, azure sheen V. Far round, the bison, bufialo, oneo strayed, “Tne sportive eer Jod out their 1awn to driuk; Far round, the red maws offspring strolled snd s Uncotacsbus 0f the centuries that think, Of empires falling, hurisd o'er ruin’s brink, Of destinies that rouso the human souk,— In Natures chain, & rude, anpolished liuk, Unchanged in halit whiis the ceuturies roll,— Biind, roamiug nomad, wilDout government, control ! VI, Here Nature flourished in her grand stlirs, Her accents, volces, syoiphonics, all sweat,— Kindled ber starry dome with orbs of fre, Poured golden spiendors round a city’s sea One day to be; vast destinies to greet, In haloing Insires stream, wavs inagic wand 3 Great epan of ages taeir full orb cotpleic,— Sciect, proud spot, to myriad myriads fond, Wheze Life's great seal enweaves its loveliest bond 1 L £ A city atately, 38 by magic rote, Proud insiiration o'er wazch Houris smiled, Yeuose niver turbid, hike old Tiver, fows, With no Tarpeian rock, Cmpagnes wild,— Imperial homs in 1o izlsa charms begailed, Sendmg to Heaven bright dome, proud architravs, Strange, wondsons sigut to Naturc's savage chiid, Far long tho strand’s proud, parple, couibing wat An exutiation, joy, Gelight, 10 all the good and bruve! XIL Dright, beauteous, massive, gleaming, glistening 5] High sprung from "butments of consummate art, Vast temples lighted with new altar-ires, “Told of swest 1uicense from Devotion's hieart; High towers, puiace, pinnacies, that start, A wilderness of besuty seen efar, To each beholder, joy, delizht, impart.— All epanned with Low of promifse, slitfering etar, Pointing the weary (iigrinis from tae realins afar] porid Far.ranging plles, huge columns, colonnads, The great, grand arctutestures all combined, §.reugth, beanty, grace, in gorgeonsucss arrayed, The wondrous product of jinmortal mind, Bright-faming, blazed with lusires rare, refined, Vast, throbbluiy ceutre, whera Life's gofden strelm Of commerce piays, vas destimes t' unbind, Cirilization’s handmald, power supreme, Great herald of its comihg, brigt, umperizl beam! IV, A oity grand, of influence wide, control, Mailid by the pations fn its morning-bour, o £ad niemento for the orphaned soul, Vast, flamiag mopument of rising power, Whete stand grest Freedom's shiines, her lovely bow- er, Her blazing symboole, all the land sround, Pright, d==ziing stars dropping a golden shower Oer patriot-homies, Joyons with festive sound, Inyouth, in beauty. robed, grown sacred, ballowed ground! XV. Art, Hejence, Learning, Genius, Fortune, grand Tnventive ekill, distinguished honors, shoue ; Vatt works of Glory, by freat masters ylsuned, Wore. gariand-wrctlis, pound her Lright, dazzling zoue ‘A mew-born splendor, to the Past unknown, Centuricd to be,~Tife's rand, its peerless light, Endizdemmed on her commercial throne, Sufiueed with despening baloes, beacon right,— Culeago rore, il wrapt u flames, she fell, one awful night ! e T Playing with Dynamite. At St. Jobn, N. B, a geutleman pamed Ber- tresux, sojourning at the Victorin Hotel, was severely injured the other evening througn his too great zeal to celebrate tie advent of the laoar eclipse. He bLad prepared a_cartridge of dsnamite, which he purposed exploding ina yard underneath mis window. He accordingly leaned out on the eif) and ligated tho tissuc-paper fuse; bat, as the latter burned more rapidly inside thaa out, the fire penetrated the cartridze beforo he was aware, and the dynamite exploded. Alr. Eertreanz’s hand was shattered to the wrist-font and blown into a thousand picces. His left arm pear the elbow was also badly bruised, his right eye and chin_ slightly injured, and be jeceived a sovere gaeh in the left check, apparently from a piccs of the bone of the hand. His sufferiogs for a time were cxcruciating. A friend who wes standing behind him suifered also from the shock. The concuésion and flash of fiame have resulted in an injury to his sight which cells for his seclusion from the iight. Another gentleman who was present was koocked by therecoil clear across the room, his sense of hearing being somewhat impaired, A fourth person w2salso in the room, but sus- tained no damage. Saveral articles of furniture were overturned by the shock, and alarge holo blown in the window-sill. The cartridge nsed was about 2§ inches in length and anmou thick, with & small cap at one end, te whioh the fuse of tissue-paper Was attached. Prescription for the Cure of Drunke coness. Thers is a curious premigtinn in Eogland for the cure of drunkenness, by which thounsands are said to have becn sesisted in recorering themgelves. The tecipe came into notoriety through the efforts of John Vine Hall, father of the Rev. Newman'-Hall and Capt. Vine Hall, commander of the Great xastern steawship. He bad fallen into such hsbitual drunkeunesa that his utmost efforts to regain himeelf proved nna~ vailing. At length he sought tbe advice of an eminent physician, who gave him & preecription which be followed faithtully for soveral inontks, 2nd at the end of tbat tima he nad lost all desire for hquors, although he had for many years beeu led eaptive by a most dcbasing eppetite. The receipe, which he afterxards publixbed, and by which s0 many have bsen assisted to reform, 28 follows: **Sulphate of iron, 5 grains; ma; nesia, 10 grains; peppermint water, 11 graius ; spiric of nutmeg, 1 drachm; to be taken twice 2 da; Thnis preparation acts a8 & tonic and stim- ulant, and go parily supplies the place of the acustomed liquor, aud prevents that absolute paysical and moral prosttation that: followsa #udden breaking off from the use of stimulating SCRIBBLERS, The Different Species---Their Modes of Action. % Their Ubiquity---Their Utility--- And the Torments They Intlict. By my title I mean not only writers for the press, but all who wrte for publication, a2nd their name is Legion. The Scuibbler is uviquit- ous, and he has made social life as hazardous in theso United States as 1t was ever 1endered in lees-favored Governments by political spies. Yoa cannot flee from him. If you should *take the wings of morning and the Barcan desert pisrce” (I'd write that out according to the crigioal, ouly I nevor could remember how blank-verse was di- vided), you would find the Scribbler had been thete befora you. Moreover, he had writion some remarkable letters, NOT INTENDED FOR PUBLICATION,— « Ob, certainly not. DBy no means. Diers hasty jottings, intended only for the folks at home; but somehow the editor of the Monthly Pearl- Diver heard some extraots from them, sud noth- { ing would do but he must bave the letters for his magazine.” He can't say be is,.very proud of them, but atill, as yon have heen to the local- ities described, perbaps the letters might prove interertiog to you, and ha will loan you a copy for pornsal Now, it is bad enough to bave his book, snd be obliged o keep it 8 length of time suitable for » suppoeed perusal, and to be responsiblo for | its preservation, and to lug it baok in due ses- 800, and to ovade hia catechism s to your read- ing of his effusions ; but tlat is not all. Hence- fortia aad forever, you can never talk with him ten minutes without his recurring to those let- Lers,, Ay, yos! " he will exclaim, with & saddon start of memory: *‘that reminds me of my description of euch & fountain. You romember it, don't you?” Or, agai *That recalls to me =a onrious inci- dent which bappened to me in such a valler, an incident I omitted to montion in my letter from ,there.” Every subject leads up tv those accursed _* Letters™; and he never omits to pointedly” address you, and thereby advertise you as a reader of Lus book. It certsiulr seems ot times as 1if your burdens were gieater than youcowid bear. Itis vamm for you to change your location ; for, in the hope of being 11d of this bore, you rush upon suother. Perbaps thin tima it 18 a lady, who is one of that vast ciass of AVSTERIOUS AUTHORS, who afe slways spoken of a8 * literary people,” and yot nobody ever seoms able to give you the facts concerping their effusions. “ That's Al Scroggius, the wiiter,” your right-hand neigh- bor will whisper. Naturally you inquire what she writes, aud what publication she favors. «Oh! she writes for & uumber of maga- zines and papers,—I don't romcmber exaot- ly what. *Mrs. Jerusha J. Scroggius,'—you've seen the name, of course.” But you haven't, and you uever do sce it, and peopls continue to polut out to you Mrs. Jerushs J. Scroggins and Mrs. Jerusna J. Scroggina’ busband; and every one who poita them out teils you that she is a **hterary woman,” and thas * sne writes for publication ” ; but, to the end of your life, the chauces are, you mever will seo anyof her productions, or meet auy one who has seen them. It all a batrowing mystery. A for the re- puzed anthoress heraclf, she zoes quietly about her own business ; aod whether she is really a Scribbler, or whether ber acquaiutances malign her, must forever remain At Oben queslion. Tut, again, there 18 the obscure writer, whose modesty 1s not the cause of his obscurity. le # lics in wait for readers and lecturers, as a spider Lies in wait for bis prey. He invites you to din- ner, and, after dinner, fures you into his study (of'course Le bas -* a sludy "), and, afier few moments of desultory couversation, he suddealy says, an if the suggestion bad just occurred to Lim, ¥ Oh! by the wsy, I was speaking to you, the other day. about my lettos to the Prairie- ville 4rgus. Perhapa you would like to hear » fow extracts from them? I sigoed my- self ‘Rambler.'” Then be goos, with & wery © self-consciona air, to the book- cate, and briugs back s fils of papers, and turns them over fondly: “ IHere's one from Minns- ba-la, dated Julv 10, last year. That might terest you.” hot can you do? Surely the Recordiug Angol's face must be red aud swollen over vour afternoon’s meudacity. The pitiless Scribbler reads on, and on, and on ; aud you only #peak the truth once. and toat ia when yon con- gratulate him his {felicitous cheico of the nom-de-plunie,—* Rambler.” A dilferont Scribbler, but of this same genns, isthe ons who is forever droppivg Lttle frag- meuts of nenspaper from bis pocset-book, wbick clippings prove t0 be his owa metricat ofusions, signed with his namo spelied backwards, or ab- Lreviated in s+me new way. Ho allows you to read them, undor faeble A)roteu; and the height of bis ambition is reachied if any of bhis pioaue- tions are copied ioto other papers. 1t bae come to be a serious question as fo what we shall do to be saved from those HUMAN GNATS. Man, womap, or child,—it 18 all one to tbem. Live or die. 8:ay at bome or 5o abroad, you are ahill their prey. Are you apyoody in particular? Then the great, gaj10z Public wants to know all about you; and the Beribllers will suck informa- tion from vou a3 & mosquuto does blood. Are you mobody? Then you are written at. You are advised, and ecolded, and pecked at, and told what you oueht to éat, sod when yon ouaghtto eat it, and how to speod your leisure time, and what to belleve, aud bow o trea: your wife, and how to fuinish your houee, and how to econo- mize, avd how much to slesp, and which way your bed ought to etand. If youare o woman, the case is siill worse. You are told Ligw to manage your house, aud how much mone; you ought to spend, and how to raise your chil- dren, &nd how to cook, and how to dress, and Low to make your clothing, and what you mual do at one time, and what you musi do atan- otber, and how to manage a husband, and so up, ond 66 forth. Itis enough to rufile the sweet- ess temper to_be unable to read even a little back-woods country-newspaper withont baving to swallow a quantity of injudiclous, uo- palatable advice. Nothing is éasier than to give advice. It is pleasant work, too, DBut does any oue suppode for a moment that these nuisaaces, who write all these wonderful weekly essays, have any but a theoretical knowledge of whal they write about ? FBACTICAL WRITERS re generaliy the most unpractical people. The man who invents the machine is not its best @escriber. The farmer's wifé who keeps the model dairy is not the contributor whose articles in tho Sickle have made you in love with farm- ingz. Aro any of my readers innocent enough o believe thas the charmiug littlé stories in the fashion-megazines, where the heroine rips, and tleans, and turns, and ruffles, two old dressés, and makes them into oné mew ono, aud sosaves 8 850 bill (the gift of a too-indulgent papa), is the suthentic history of the writer 2 Not a bit of it. Ten to oue, if the Scribbler ‘who wrote that graceful little story could gathera flounce on & drese, or even put in 4 pocket. And we all know the dear old coutributor, * Mat- ton,” who has ‘“Chats th Young Wives"; and disconrscs 80 winningly about mufins. snd coffee, and _ silverclean- ing, and how to preserve paint, and how to mend carpets, and the best way to excerminate motha ; and gives directions fur light bread. and whas to do with ashes, and bow to utilize old shoes, atc. Well, ehe is just s much a bumbug as Mra, Winglow with her Soothing Syrup. ‘*‘Matron™ is only A Sciibuler,—perhays a male one at that. She pitks up her information from bousewives who mnever use a pen .except to label thoir pickles and = preserves, or (o laboriously comstruct & letier to an absént child. However, the recipes ato just as good 8s if_a geoulne houseswife penucd tlem, and the directions for remodéling dreeses are worth following if the compller nsver wore a himole. 1t would appear, then, a8 if the TSES OF SCRINRLERS wers generally mysteries. Pe:haps the Practical Bcribuler serves to convey hints from one locality to auother, somewhat a8 the down wings the thistle-sced. The rest of fueso genus are like gnats and sand-flies; they buzz, and dart hither #nd thither, and 80 sive an idea of lifa and activity ; but their unlity is one of the myater- Witca Hazen, A Smart Dog. The Richmond (Vz.) Enquirer relates the fol- lowing mstance of a dog testifsing in his own bebalf in s police cours in thac city : Wednesday, it will be remembered, Mr. Spears was beforo the polico court, charged with keeping n vicious dog, and the animal was or- dered to be killed. Subsequently, however, the execution of the sentence was suspended, 28 the evidence upon which ho was couvicied was ox parte, and & new trial wad granted. The case came up yesterday morning, and & large number of persons testified a8 to the good character of ! into tiie fact (hat ho Liad scered tho gentleman who compluined of his attacking him by rougn play. Neveriheless, to make assirauces doubly sure, at the request of his master, he was put upon the staud to testify in bis own case. Oa Doing asked if he would bi‘e avy one, he ntiored a peculiar noise and shook his bead. 1fe was then asiced if he would bite any ono if his master set him on, and replied iu the atfirmative by nod= divg his bead and barking. When acked if he would ite the Court, he repled in tue negative. Several other questions wete asked lum, and bis answers and actions exhibited the greatest intel- ligence. I: is ncedless to say he was honorably acquitted.” TWO PICTURES. I A Sabbalh morn, betol'ning peace and rest, Baw Nature fn her loveliedt gauments dressed. From all around a soothing iniluence came, And Lindly sun 1o0kcd down with roftened flame, ‘Against the azure sky the fleecy clonds. Wide-stretculng, spread their evaneacent ehrouds, And, on the velvet turf of om'rald greed, Sent fitful ehadex to fleck ita glowiug sheen, The Llushing clover felt the eager breeze, And sent its swcets (0 lire tlie searchung beea The restless sparrows few {rom hedge to hedge, Or ligtly skipped slong the rugged ledge ; Tpon ths village eaves, devoid of blame, Th white doves nodded as they went and came, A ittle church, of quaint, but nest, design, Where earifer juodes with later tastes combine, Iose from the sward,—tbe pride of old and yomug Who, 'neath it gabled roof, their praieex sung. Meniorial windows, bright with many & stain Of richest colors on each tablet-pane, Tinged tie fair sunbeams as they darted through, Aud bathed the floaling dust in rainbow-hus, One such there was, where faithful hsnds bad reared Th t enblem blest,~to Christian hearts endeared : A Tuddy cros the westein gable showed, ‘Around whose form 2 golden halo glowed. Tho iy, clinglug 10 the ushy walls, In vendent Joops about the window falla; Tts ‘resching tendrils round the cross arc vee, Blending it crimson with their paliid green. “The coustant bell unlovsed its wilvery tongus, And from ita tower a tuneful welzoriw rang, Whose swect vibrations trembled on the air, And calied the reverent to toe Houne of Prayer, ‘Accoss the common, through the tidy streets, From lowly cottuge’nd fair country-seats, In Suday garh, tnsutited, clothed again, Couverging ceine tie church-witracted train, Tue buzom matran and the blovmiug maid, The blithesorse stripling and the Lusoand stald, Grandsire and grandam, losding Httlo pet, Within the modeet church for worship met. Oue maid there was on whom the Graces winiled, Licatowed 3 comely form and manger wikd ; Ttich in luxuriant treases, pearly-browed, Wath healthful checka aud ruby lips endowed. Ilor dreamy eses, that flaslied with sudden light, Bespoke a fuind fhat thouglit, and tkoughi aright. Jler face, raplete with beauty's ev'ry viga, Teflocted funocence in ev'ry line. What though her shapely licad, thrown Lightly back, Of couscions pride, ambitivn, shiowed no luck 7 To kindly kin the trait caused no alurmi,— They deemed the habit bus an added charm. ‘What wouder that the *Squire’s vivacious son Dreamed of 3 conquest worthy to be won7— Tiowed, as she court'sied, oy the lrttle gate, And deemed his future blended with her fata? Nor need we question why she notes his grace, 1118 form majeatic and his handsome face ; Nor yet inquire why the fuir muden sig: ‘Wheh flashed a vision of the chadn wide That gaprd betwixt her ststion and bis owa,— Whicki Love perciance might span,—and Love Who, Laving loved, wil pause not (o pursue The hope {ncipient, and the doubting, too, Which sped i puantom Sight before her view, Wheu ube was ecated in ber modeet pew? Adown the broad alxle of the village-church TPusucd one, whose breast ‘Twers curions to seareh, nto the costioned pew where sat the "Squire, Judway between the pulpit aud the choir, What were the secret workiogs of that heart— So lately touched by busy Cupi Tt~ 1s ong more problem they, and only tiey, Who know its power, to tell may dars Of all who gatlicred, on that Sabbath fair, Within the cenfiues of Lt Houso of Prayer, Where (rom the faithful pastor's lips were heard The solema teachings of the Sacred Wor Where, {rom united Yofcos, prases sweet Tu tribute-utrains aspired the Mercy-Seat,— Twao souls thers wers on whom the servire fell * Lika tful tones borne on the breeze's swcll ‘And words that tuld of futurs life and bliss, They heard not,—busy with bright hopes in tidy 1 I Oer stretehing plains, with fghways interhiced, Whore (L shrifl wiristle thrills aloug the waste ; Through forests degss, WhETo FyiVah barpsare stTus f,— Where, t00, the engine’s waruing peal isrung ; Through the sparss pasture, thick with prostrate alone ! forme,— Felled by the yeoman's a3, ot blesting storms,— Bexlde thelr lonsly stamps where once they stood, siant neighbofs of she teeaing wood ; ‘er meads desj-olled, whoss late Lright-waving rohes, Now dried and gathered, swoll Like serered giooes,— Frifghting thre breeze mith aromatic scent, Which death bes but intenser fragrauce lent.— The tuund'riug train sped in its Lightaing-tight, And roused the echoes from the dintant height, Tue cir liug lndscape, ceseleus in its ehange, ‘Twirled the balght siream, the vale, and mountain- rauge, And ox the travelers’ gaze comtinmous grew ‘A yricture ever pleamng. ever new. 8 Bouriug their precious freigit of human life,—~ With hopes, and feary, and aspiratious rife,— The cars, resplendeut s their rich arras, Meand'ring traced the DATOW irou-way. Tue nizanger-cye witain might look askance, Perclance to mest another's fartive glance; ‘Belike, with stealthy drowainess o'ercome, Some wand'rer, travel-worn, might dream of home! Among tho DUINETOTS PasseLyers Wus Ry Who-e wasted form saunned noc the searching san, Wisose beaming radi mee through tho window came, And batbed it in 3 bright, » wel-omo fame. On her jale band her paler face reclined ; Calmly she sat, wirh patient look remigued. “Too woll the hoctic Aush, and palior, showed Ior dread disease, and told ite fell inroad. Despice ber comely purb of sober gray, Whase evry foud in graceful beatty iay; Deepite the aifent eyn.pithy which flowed From kodly, stranger-liear!s that with her rode,— 8till there was some:bing in the woman's nijen Wuisgerod the resence of the Magduien. Was it that viin display of colors cas, Contranted aiTangely with her suit of gray? Waus It profusiou of rich jewels rre, Tust made the woman sécm less good or falr 7 Whate'er the causé, still the {mpression came,— The sud reflex of beanty blent witn shame | O'ezyast, at leugth, the long and tedious ride, e views her native hills in all their jride. The well-remembered scenes of auriy youtl, Seat of her pristine ife, when Lfe was truth, Grooted the w.nd'res’s dewy eyes, anew, As nearer fo hier home shs saaly drew. “Tha Httls bay tht nestied ‘neath toe hills, Receiving sribute {rom its subject rlls, Tmaged the trec-tops of the neigu'ring woed, That on ita acdgy banks obescient vtood. 1f, in its peacefal depths, she saw reiease From all her gricf, snd dramed of rest 3ad peace, Tne thonwht, which csme muidden, quickly fled s i*In God's own timo! ¥ her yielding spirit The huge elm’s bran: hessecmed aloft to wave Like beak’ning arms, solicilous ta save, Tueir figures reproduced in wilent abiade, The silver-maples double welcome paid : Thelr rrotty leaves, configared at Her feet, Vibrated on the smootlr and tidy street. Hor footsteps tended—journeying towsrds that rest 8he hoped to find upon 3 mother's breast— By toe still churchyard whre tney sweetly slept, Tne village dead ; where wiliows watched and wept! Dear to her heart those homes of peacefal reet, The swelling mounds by mantling grasses presied. Gazing upon the spectre-tablets {bere, Blie baw no record of a fault, or care, In glowing phrases everywhere aho read The tale of worth departed, virtue fled ! - Will tell of me such tribute, words of praise.” Hne sighed, “ whca death my'beavy grief alliys?™ She st«nds beside the church wherc ance she miet That form she would not, if she could. forget ; Thougi: with the recollection came, again, be bérticas causs of all her grief and pain. er woman's beart wonld swell in earnest prayer That God would shield him with His guardian carel Bonide the sanded fence the sexton stands, Aud listless leans upon hia brawny hands, FHis charge, €0 long and fafthfully kept, ‘Again arranged and sedulously swept, ‘He lingers, gazing st the seiting son, ‘Whose sflent course, agaiv, has nearly rem, The open portal tempts the weary feot To setk onoe mare the old-time, modest sealy Wuare to herself_her maiden heart confessed 1ts first Submisafon unte Love's behiest. O bitsefal muemory of dear distress, In derkest hour omnipatent to bless ¢ Piercing the gioom of Sorzow's chilliog shroude The light that boams beyond the murky cloud | Aove the altar where, ercain defied, Her pareuts to the Master gave their child, She Faw again the words she oft had reas Walch toid of Him who suffered in her Een these: “ The blood of Jesus Corist, H Olsanseth from mn.* *Twas sked for évery A flood of penitential sorrow o'er her swept, . ‘Tears of contrition from their fountain crept, As at the altar’s Lase ahe humbly knelt, To seek relief frowm all tne griel she folt, The red croas in the western gable set, ‘Tho parting sunbeam in their brightoess met, Aut bathod them in its own vermilion hae, Exs thoy thelr radianeo on the altar threw, And changed the suppliaut’s garb of sober gray To glowing whitenesa, like the light of day : So * s blood cicanseth,” frecs from ev'ry staim The ebon Lieart, and makes it white 3gain 1 The exton, “ecaped from bis sbstracted mood, Beheld the sun had lowered while be stood ; Still wond'ring where the yreity maid bad gone, Who left the village with the 'Bjuire’s g3y 800, Within the church he mede his wonted round, Careful to search, though aught he ne'er bad found, “The prostrate form, suilused 1a radizut light, Bafore the ruddy aitar, mel bis sigkt. Amazed he gazed, steps with cautiaus care, Lest he disturb the figurs kneeling thero. Awbila he lingers, still no motion tmade, Tue silent form he decmed before bim prayed. With voice subdusd, tho devotes beaide, He gontly cailed; no answ'ring voice roplied, Tenderly lifted, io the open door Tue fragils form the stords sexton bore. The cooilng breeze fanucd the unconscions head,— Isut all in vain,—the vital spark bad fled. The bresth that whispered forth ber latest prayor Wafted ber spirit far froms earthly care! Cuicano, J. P. Laaverr, —An attempt was tohave been made last weck to got up another woman's crusade 1n Cleveland, but three or four of the leaders were diszppoint- ed lbz:‘uflt their fall bonnets, sud the sffair dido't come off, CHAPTER L Evening in the Island of Jersey, and the sun, already set. A wash of pure carmine in the west- ern gky; a film of whitish haze in the grassy bottom of along valley scooped out beiween steep wooded bills. Rising out of the haze, a sort of oatural embankment like & bridge, divid- ing the valley in two, aod separicing Maitre Le Gsye's balf from Maitre somebody elae’s. Barely indicated in sepian shadows, a rouzh, strong path, dug out of the hills, bowered in trees, and lead- ing down to the embankment. Thisembankment in shadow too, bencath the fringe on cither side of lofty elms, green, leafy, beautifal in summer glory, and tipped with cadmium gold on every topmost twig. Hanging somewhat perilousty over one edge of the bank, a fallen frunk; and Testing npon it & woman, young, beamy-syed and beautiful; her feet buried in a cuft of Guerzsey daisies, gleamng like white stars in the fore- ground; the tall atem of a fox-glove, hesvy with f dusky shaded piok, pricking in ing hair; & basket of ferns on her kneo; her white, round baods clasped over the fragunt burden, and partly bidden in dainty emerald fronds; hereyes balf biddentoo beueath the cream-white Iids, and long curved lashes, which rest on a cheek as rosy and purely soft as aninfant’s. In the background, & string of mild- eyed cows, patched witna brown and white and driven by = girl in white Brittany cap and short skirt, down among the ferns and blackberry- bushes of the billside path. A bud chirpisg 1 the elm-tree Now aud then the bark of a dog from some distaut farm. Over both the voice of the cattle-girl singing in the summer twilight: “Que veut diro cet amour 1" Dit Jeanot a Jeanncton, 5o scraps of the refiain tloat up on the soft summer sir, while Mizpah Le Feulle sits waiting on tie old tree-trunk, Below, the brook babbles over the sfones, and frogs gurgle among the long grass and water-rushes. A gray wood-beetlo comes out on the log, and trots leisurely along, making & great pieca of work over every little hillock of crusty yeilow lichen, or red-tipped moss, 'Two dissipated linnets flutter twittering among the branches overhead, instead of going home to roost. Tuen a small brown lizard puts out his head from a hole in the bank, and begins to leisuzely ascend the log. Ithasa slow, saac- tified air, this lizard, a5 if it were thinking of notbing more sublunary than a prayer-iceting ; but happening to meet the gadding wood-beetle, it stops short, and devours himin 2 seif-abne- gatory way, much fike some human Pharisee. Mizpah sits atili and waits. Dy-and-by there is & sound of footsteps tramp- ing over the stonea down tho hill-path. Out of the shadows comes the figure of & man; s man before wnom Mizpah rises, letting basket and ferns fall uuheeded to her feet; a man who catches her hands in his, and holds her with a passionate force—a smotbered, quivering cry, as of one who bas waited long for this meeting, and hongered forit mightily. 1t is some seconas before he hears what Mizpah ia saying, some seconds before any words are in- telligivle between the girl's Leavy, paniing breathing, that sonnds hike sobs. 1 Let me go, let me go," she says twice; and atlast he understands, though more from the hands etriving slmost desperately to {ree hersell than from the parted, * perfect lips,” from which all color bas flied. Loosing hera little, he puts one hand under the little chin, inrning it towards bim, and says half-reproachfully—a very loving reproach: “Let yougo?_Why, my darling, I have only justgot you! Is that your greeting, Mizpah, aiter three years' waiting for this one ‘momeut ?" He is going to kiss bsr as he spe: His b rave biue eyes, and bandsome face, bearded and browned uhder saus more buruing tbau these, are very mear ber own: and she isonlyasa lit- tle bird in his hold. _In the desperation of the moment she thrusts his band away with all the strength of both bers, and gasps ont : “Gerald, don't! for heaven's eake, don't! X sm married.” Then be lets her go—drops her s though shot to the heart by some unseen bullet; and all the 1ad piood dies out of his face, leaving it ghastly 5: the twilight—even more ghastly. than that ‘white daisy face which a momeat befors was hid- deu agaiust his beart. There is no word spoken for & moment. Ouly the brook bablles amoog the rushes and far smay the cattle-giri's gopg ringe above the shadows: I 4 Tol mamie, c'est tof que j'sime,” DitJeanot a Jeauneton, Vith sound like » long gasping sob, with the voice bollow and Lroken of a dying man, he azks af last: ¢ . + 3lizpsh, what are you saying 2" 2 tThe tiuth,” she answers, forcing ber voice to steadine-s, forcing back the tears burniogZin her eyen, the agouy scriving for uiterance in bLer Lestt. * 1 am marriea—married—do you bear, Gerald 7—six montns ago. 1 dared not write it to you; but it is true.” ¢ Ter voice sounds barsh, almost cruel. Looking at Ler, the pawn briogs a tinge of dull red to his face. “ Married I" he says slowly. “It—it cannot be true. And your promise to ms?" - Broken,” she anawers almost fisrcely, but her Jimbs are shaking like an aspen-leat. ¢ Gerald, 1 bave told you. - For heaven’s sake go away now and forget me. T am not worth remembering— 2ot worth grieving for, o sighing over.” 3 "'He does not believo it. Looking into that fair young face, and blue innocent eyes, it would be Qiticutt. Almost piteously be telis her 80, beg- ging some excare, sorme explanation. ~She has never bid bim meet ber here to tell him, after three years' waiting, that she is uttexly false and worbless—nothing more! What is the good of more?” she asks, her voice dead now with & sort of weary despair. \To have been false is euongh. Wounid excuses muke it better 2 1 would not have met youat ail if 1 had been braver—more unseltish. I ought to have written; and L tried, but—I conld nat.” ] do pot wonder at it.” he breaks in harshly, “You were not cold-blooded enough for that, it seems.” It wonld bave been betier,” ehe answers, finching under his tone; ** it would have spaed ou pain; and siuce I could not recerve you iu ‘my husbnd's house, I doubtif shoaldbave mef youbere.” ¢ And why 2" « He might be sogry.” R “Angry! Whohau the better right to be angry, heor12 Mizpab, do you love this mao, or are you afraidof hm? By heaven I believe you ure, and thiok that you were forced into this treacheiy!" . He would bave caught her hands, but she draws Lack, whiter than ever. ; 4 No one forced me, and Iam not afraid of him. He 18 most kind and lovable—Oh, Gerald!” (as ho interrapts by an_oath wrung from bim o sieer eration) “ for heaven's sake—for pity’s sake go! _What taikivg can undo the wroog that bas been doneyou? I ouly ask you to forget me, pothing more; ot oven forgiveness unlcss— unless when you are happy with some ono more worthy of you, you may care—" . + Never " he breaks in, crushing her faltering voice with the blaze of scorn io his honest eyes; notif I were dying would I_forgive you; you who have deceived me for 50 long, and brought e back across the wido Atlantic to fiad you wuasried to another—false to me. Forgive you! No, but I forgive your husband.” The crimson haa faded out of the sky. The gold is dead upon the tree-tops. Long gray hadows float up from the valley. A faint, whit- ish mist is building an impalpable wall between those two, once 8o near, now 80 wide apart. Even the birds are gone to roost, and the gay 1elrain of “ Jeanot and Jeanneton has ceased to echo among the hilla. N Then Geiald Dacres goes, tos. - Without an- other word, without a Jast glance at the girl wlo $ias wronged him, he turns from ber, and strides ‘away amoug the trecs. Ooly ouslittls star peop- ing through the dusky blue above seea Alizpah's agony of weeping as, with face hbidden in her bands, eho returns to her husband's house— alone. . 3 CHAPTER TL Night in a sick-room: a room where the red fire-light leaps up 1n weird fashing formsa aiast the pictared wall; where the Leavy damask cur- tains are drawn closely across tho windows, a8 if to shut out all sound even of the rain beating wildly against the panes without. * Mizpab, are you there. Yes, dear.” . * It 18 very near the end now. + Do you feel weaker, John ?" tNo, but I feai—dying, Come closer to mo, my mfe. 1 wantto talk to youw™ She 18 seated between the bed aud tho fire, & woman etill young. and strangely beautiful, but with the patient gravity of middle age ssitled Fike & waxen mask over ber fair pale face. Hor movements, too, are_softer add quister than usual at bor sge, as she rises, and, going to the bed, stoops down sbova the face, wrinkied and worh deeply lined and frioged with thun gray hairs, which lies there upou the pillow. “Yon Lave been cryiog,” bhe #ays, his keea [ pab’s heart beats too loudly to hear them. cu Dervous, nithered hand tightevin *“*Yes," she says simply. ‘It is 80 hard to seo you suffer.” My dear, the bodily sufferiog is nothing. to that which has tortured me for tae last six years. Torture! I wonder L have lived o long nader " She makes no answer. He often utteis these ambizuous allustona; but Mizpeh Is not an io- quizitive woman. Perhaps she has had secrets of her own. “ Mizpab,” he says suddenly, “do yon remem- ber why you muarried me?" ““Why talk of that now, John?" she asks, flushing timidly. * Bcause now is the only timo I have. You were only 19, Mizpah, and you married bacause your parents’ death had thrown you on my care; because the world said ill-natured thinga of yoar living with & guardian of 48; bacause you wanted to keep a delicate little sister with you, and could not afford t0 do it unmartied; because—chiefest reason of all—the man you were engaged to, the man you loved and who was away in Canada, bad proved false to you; because you saw his maniagein an American paper, after for six months your letters had received no amswer. Because of these reasons you married me.” ‘*And because you wers the best and truest friend I had in the whole world,” she broke in with quivoring lips; “becanse Minnie loved yon, and I—liked and honored you wit ail my heart. Johm, I told you ail this theo. Have disap~ pointed you, that you go back npon it now ?” “You have been an angel of light to me,” he answers hoarsely. * Oh, child! if yon oniy knew what you are to me! if you ouly gueesed how madly, passionately, I, old enough to be your father, have loved you from the first moment I saw you till now! Mizpab, try to think of it. Try to bear it fn mind when vou wonld tura from my memory with hatred and loathing.” “Jolin, could that be possibl #1 wish to heaven 1% were poasible to avoid it. 1 had meant to leave it till after I was gone, to keep the kind look onyour swect face till after T was dead ; but I canoot; I—" “ Johu, don't say any more,” she_interrupts, trombimg very much, . ‘If 'there is auything wrong which you havo dose, do mot tell me. Even though it have burt me, let ma remain in ignorauce. I will forgive it, whatever it be. If it be wntten in your papers, I will burn them unread. Trust me. He smiles faitly—a sad, bopeless smile. *¢ No, chuld, this you could not forgive; nor ehall you promise to do so. Liaten to me winle I havo strength, and answer first. Did you not meat Gerald Dacres the day befors you wera uko?n with that long iliness, nearly six years ag0?" “ Yen, John,” she eays quietly; but Low fast her heart is beating! *+ And be told you tbat he had never married— that he had written to you constantly, and gof no aoswer?" 4+ e spoke of his letters in the one thiat reach- ed me—the one that told me hg was coming here —but not of bis marmage. Since it was not true, the report may not bave reached bis ears.” *And you! Did not you spesk of it 2" +No, John,” “No? What explanation, then, did you give of your marrisgs with me " ] gave hict none.” Her voice is faint with remembered anguish; but the auswers aro ever straight and true. + I don't underatand you,"” he says. *‘What did you asy to him 7" +1 told bim I was married, and bade him go away and forget me." *What! no more than that? And washe satis- fied? Did be ask no explanations—nothiag 2" 4 No, John; he was not satisfied. - Do not talk about it—please do not.” The pain even now is greater than she can bear. He presses her hand moretigltly. +¢E will only avk you one thiog more, Mizpah. 1 know that you will answer it with perfecttruth. Why did you do this? Nay" (a8ahe hesitates), * I'wish to know.” “ Because I was a married woman and my hus- band trusted me. Bocanse—ob, John! forgive me—I loved Gerald so deariy, he loved me &0 loog. so well and fondly, that I dared not tell him any excuse for my spparent. falsehood. 1 knew his perfect hoor, I knew my own inno- cenca; and yes L could not—Joho, 1 dared not trust to either while we loved each other. Pleaso do not think ill of me. I knew tbat I loved Ger- ald more than my own lifo; and because I loved him I sent bim away. ' Sne is oo her knees now, weeping bitterly, mith ber face hidden on the wrinkled hand in which Liers 18 clasped. The firelight flickers on the wall—on the bent golden head. Ounly theshadows of tiie curtains fall upon the tortured fage of the dyiulg man. Very slowly he speaks. + [ thaok God that the sm which dooms me has purified one saint more for heaven. You have made your confession, Mizpoh ; listen to. mine. It was 1 who kept back your lover's letters; L who stopped yours; L who bad that advertise- ment inserted in the New Branswick paper; I who invented all the uuchantable gossip which #0 worked upon your sensitive delicacy. ~ And I did this because I lovel you—because I thought that time, and patient idolatry, and every luxury {hat viches coula supply, would win your love away from the rememorance of & young fellow who&zwb:bly did not love you half so well, and could only bave led you iato poverty, Goa only Lnows how I have bean puuiahed : ROt only now, but in every hour and momenz of these seven years which Liave seen you mine, sud Dot mine. For a few months—not s year—I hoped. Then You and be met ; in your fever you told me that; and hope died forever. Each day since then— overv moment that has witnessed your patient obedience—your_sileat, uncomplaining gentle- nesg—your sad little faco sobered into aze so earlv—so early—has been one long punishment.” ++ Hush !" ghe inietrupts—she has sprung to Der feet long before, shrinking back and away from him, with her Lands clinched upon her bowom, sud tace winte and horror-strickea— “shusky, for pity'e sake! 1 begged you not to tell me. Oh! why, whv did you do it now, when it in all over, 2il'ended past any recall?” «tM1zpah—" he begine feebly. «Not now, Jobn, not mow I sho cries, break- ing 1nto bitter tears. I will be goodin & mo- ment; but don’t say any mors just ihis minnte. I—I can't think.” Ha makes no answer. still. The shadow is darker on his face; and she bas turned to the door, when sometling, some tonder womanly im- g:;:a, makes her come back to the sid»of the -« Don't you think me unforgiving,” she says. 1 do forgive you—I shall soon, when I have thought of all your love and kindness. I—John, do vou hear me? John!" There was no answer still. The firelight has died down in the grate. The rain beats and wails agaiost the window. Outside the wind raves, and the branches creak, like the cries of a tortured spirit, but within all 1 silent, all still; for earthly love is gone—called out o mest 1ta fiodamd love unselfish, Jovepresaactified 1sleft one. CHAPTERIIL #3rs. Le Fewlle, may I introduce my hus- band's cousin, Mr. Dacres? Heis,quitea lion withus ; only just retmned from two years' travels in distant lands” Mizpah looks up. She is sitting, elight and graceful in Lier widow’s dress, one of & fashion- able arowd, in & fashionable London drawing- room. Two listle red spots rush into her chaeks, and her eyes leap up with & sudden light, as sha puts her hand out, sayiog: & Mr. Dacres and I are old friends.” He does not act hke an old friend. = He does not even seem to see her haud, but bows with grave formality; andaftera word or two of commonplace civility—words which the beating of ber heatt will hardly let ber anewer, he moves quietly away, and leaves the room. So they moet again, and 8o they part. ~The Tocket which bears her name—that name with its quaint sacred mesning, *'The Lord watch be- tween me and thee when we ata absent oue from another "—still bangs at hiswatch-chain ; but e has not forgiven her yet. He never will. Has the Lord watched in vaiz? Twilight again, The ely a pals apple-green fading into & blue in the e Uns long ber of Liquldg ‘gold low down on the western homzon. Above 18 3 bank of gr.\{uh violet cloud fringed with fire. Far away, bebind that dard clump of trees, = jingle of bells ringing for evening ser- vice. Indoorsa wood-tire sparkling merrily, an open window draped in lace cartains, which rustle softly in the sweet flower-laden breeze; and be- gide the window Mizpah seated in a low chamr, the broad tulle streamers of her white cap float- ing like & vail ronnd her slight rounded figuro, hergolden head resting against a staod of aza- Jeas. white and pink, 1n fall bloom: n open fet- ter in her lap, and & flush bright 2s & moss-rose bud in either cheek. There sre steps in_the passage, and tho flush grows deeper. ‘The belis keep ringing, but 111:.:- o door opens and sha is on ber feet, her beantiful eyes ehining through dazzled tears, her clasped quivering bauds outstretched, her whols wom- anly form heaving and pauting with silent, pas- sionate gladness. Against the gold-green back- groundof the sunset sky Gerald secs her sranding like some medieval eaint. The next moment she is in his arms, folded down upon his hear: aa thongn he could never let her go sgain, and kissed—lips, hands, and brow—as if the arresrs of ten long summers of waiting had to be paid in that one moment. It mas not for a long time that any sensible woid is spokea. The Lells have rung their joy- the moon hiangs ike a lamp of gold on bigh. 30y darling,” Gerald savs, “do you know T could bardly beliave it when I got vonr letter thlg morning. I mever deserved such an answer, Mizpah—indecd I scarcely dared hope for ono sk, “Love doesnot goby desert,” Mizpah ans **aud you see I could not holp laving vou. G:'r:& Sgfiu;:;;m. Boudes, [ elt it would come ay. But, oh! i delayed much lon;er‘.“' SEEBAts et ““Thank heaven for m; i e Minnie Jast ook Gar) CaeLuE, Your algter bright bead fondlv. gays Qorald, stroking tha *“And for your confiding to ber your hatred,” +Hatred! 1 tried to hate y\m,’ lgu,lhru'f'x never could.” to forget you, but I never Ab, Gerald !"—nostling closer to him, and ffv‘ikt one Laud on his locket—* you kept the name, but I kept the verse. . Venly the Lord has ‘s watched between me and thes when we wers absent oue from another."—English Magazine. SONG. QOrer the dead, brown leaves The spirit of Sumumer grieves; its voice is the lingering breeze, Stirring the bare-branched trees, ‘Whispering low, ‘Through the woods, the sad refraint . “Autumn my bloom Yas slain; My ecavon of Life s past; Winter has over macast Ita mantle of snow.” Out on the widening plains, On the roads and country-lanes, In the vales and sheitering eaves, Are heaped the dying leaves, Yellow and sere. Autumn has killed them all; Trom the drooping trees they fall, Swept by the withering breath That sentinels Life and Death From year to year, Summer ia bt a dream,— A tower on a pansing stream = ‘A moment of bope and faith, Tuiat visions of love creats Tu the breast, 3ien ia the dreatier wild, - rom the bours he pratties, & T Autwms sbaketh the ravar Of the hope that ever deceives, Down unto rest, Cmiago, JAMES LAVALLIK e —— WONMAN. The vogetable that young ladies love is to- mate-ob. —Thoy have kissing fairs in Iowa for the benefit of the charches.—price 10 centa a ki=y. —A colored woman of Memphis barricaded ber :mm- sguu:‘t he'r h\aaiblud the ol:her day, and egan au action for divorce, on the ground that be hzd voted the Democratic ti(:ket.gK —**Oh! father, dear father, come home with ma now,” exclaimed a young lady when she saw her Charles Augustus promenading with a rival damsel. —*" The honsymoon is well enough,” eaid a prudent belle, ** but what I waot to see beyond that m the promise of & fine harvest-mocn."” —There 18 st:ll hiving in England, Ledy Vir- ginia Murray, yoaugest dagghterof Joba, fourth Earl of Duumore, aud the last British Goveraor ;:; 7Y’xrgm.|l. The lady was bora in Virgima in ~—*Do youn know why youare like the third term ?" said Susan Jaue to her brotLer, who hogered to talk with her Adolphus after the old folks had retired. No, I don't.” ** Well,” replied his saccharine sister, “it's becanse you’re one too many." _—A Cincinnati young man sent a note to his girl asking at what ume he should call, and received in relurn the following brief billet doux: #Dern Jox—Comet afpastate. dMarr” —A Iady who was urging some friends to din- ner, felt aisgusted when her 8-year-old son came ip and ¥aid: **Mrs. Jonoe eays she can't spare no bread, and Alrs. Fox ain't to home, s0 Ldidn't get any butter.” The friends thonght they had better dine elsewhere, and the lady thought so too, but she taught that boy that the way of tho transgressor.was hard. —a4 bunch of shinglos fell from a wagon on the Troy ferry-boat recently, and struck fairly npon the Lead of a colored woman, who said: “Y'oughter b'shame to mus & woman’s har dat way. i wish de shin;les fell ovahboard.” —A mau_went home, the other evening, and found his house locked up. Getting in at the window, with considerably difticulty, he found on s table a note from bhis wife: “I have gone out; you will find the door-key on one side the door-step.” —A Scotch admirer of *simplex munditiis™ assmes us that the way in which the lasales at home relogate their yellow hair always reminds lum of the Venus de 3ledicis—because it's snood art—New York World. —Julia—* 0, Carrie, I've got a new feller; perfectly splendid! Tiw other was too misera~ ble for sny:hing I” [Biugs overhears thia ex- traordinary language of hus beloved Julia, and thinks 1t is all over with him, snd that the world is hollow. Poor *feller,” how is he to know that the dear girl is only talkivg about her sew- ing machine.] —A shrowish wife, being very ill, called her husband to come and sit by her bedside. ** This 18 & s2d world, my dear,” said the wife, plain- tively. * Very,” answered the man. * Weraif not for you, I should love to quit it.” Ob, my deur,” eagerly respouded the husband, **how couid you thini I would interfere with yonr !.xlgxwlpmesa ? Go, byall meana!™ The lady got well. —A young Iady, known ss & regular chatter- box, baving mouopolized the conversation for the first haif-hour at table, asked a Queker pree- ent how he hiked tongue, remarking at tha same time that eho Lad prepared it in several tempt- ing ways; to which he mezkiy replied: *Io re- pose.” A slight lull in conversation followed. —A San Francisco woman, who has had six husbands, has been rather unfortunate in her selection of them. The first ran away from her, and 1snow a high detective-officer among the Mormons; the second wis hauged for murder; the third was sent to the Popitentiary for for- gery: tho fourth and fitth are in_the same place for burglary and bighway-robbery; and the sixth. and last is serving out a life-sentence for high- way-robbery, The woman says she never mar- ried a Congressman, anyhow. ~—Sonday night a Detroit policeman, passing a certain house about 10 o'clock, saw & man drop from a window, and heard smotbered ories in- side. He soized the man for a burglar, bat soon found that he had the owner of the house in his clatches, * Well,” said the ofticer, *‘it looked suspicions to ses you drop out of s, window that way.” *Well,” replicd the man, heaving & sigh, * when the old womsn gets her dander up, I ain't particalar about what rozd Itake to get ous of the house.” —Sept. 28, bundreds of peopls sssembled at Hangry Hill, near Aldershot, in England, to wite ness a cricket match between twanty-two women, married and single. The married included one old woman 60 years of age, who, while batting, received a severe blow in the facs with the ball, and had to retire rather precipitately. On the wnmatried side, thirteen runs (the highest) were scored in one inning; one womsn made twelve for the other side. At a former match,—this being the return,—one woman scored over forty runs. —Asquaw st down on the curb in front of the Poat-Qffice in Austin, Nev., and. onmiling a bundle of calico, commerced the manafactareof adress. lanless thanan hour the dress wat finished ; and putting it on over her old clothes the squaw pulled outapin here, a peg tuers, and untied a striog in another place, made ons step, and, preato! the old clothes lay in the gut- ter. Gathering up the raga just shed, the noble daughter of the forest cast one look of triumph on the spectators and skipped gracefally off in the direction of the Indian camp. A promineni citizen, who was an interested witness of the transaction, mildly remarked that e would gi19 $30 if Mrs. P. C. could shed herself Iike that. A well-dressed man attiacted considerable at~ tention the othier day by sitting upou the edge of the mdewalk for some time, with bis head be- neath his hands, as if in deep meditation, At Inst o sympathetic stranger approached him and said: ** Friend, you seem to be in tronble: can 1 nasist youin any way?” “‘The man epraog to his feet, and, taking off his bat, parted his baix carefally, and sai “ Stranger, do yon see thay cut? My wifedid it thia moraing with a tiat- iron, and then sent me down town to buy her a new bonnet. And I have been sitting here for an hour trying to decide whether I will buy itor pot ; aod blame me, stranger, if I haven't abous decided to gevit.” A very jealous Cincinnati lady lately * woke up the wrong passenger.” A genieman and his wife were Dmmemulm? the street in the twi- light. A well-dressed Indy rushed np suddealy behind the pair and dealt the wito a sharp blow on the temple with an iron poker. The woman fell, and then the ssssilant ran frightened sway. ‘The male member of that promenading pair was amazed at the little inmgenz. He carried his wife 10to 8 drug-store, where she was restored to conscionsness, and wondered what it wes all sbout. The residence of the assailant wzs known, and she explained that she thought the asenilant was her own busband, and ehe knew tho woman he was walking with was not ner husband's wife. She was exccedingly sarry for the painful mistake, and begzed ofl. Owing o tho respectability of all the partica the matter was smoozhed over and the poker laid away fox the present.