Evening Star Newspaper, November 25, 1871, Page 3

KITTY'S CHOICE. ‘ayne, across the field, here y ros you turn all day furrows alow ; thing o'er thy hilt— Jew seecet such tones can be But mother sa, mers boy Will never do for me. The slant Thear you whi >, WO. Will never do for me. She telle me oft, young Percy's bride May dress in silks and lace “Mid fiesh of gems and blo: ler home a fairy place; On vely she miay ride; ays a farmer's boy do fr me. ‘led and planned me: coarser robe hat T might wene the floe; Her daughter g like @ quren, She'd be so proud to see So mother says a farmers boy ‘Will.never do for me. Will never do for me. Ob, Harry Wayne. actoss the field ‘The sunset shad all; Thear you whistling Birdie, come,” all. Across the garden wa Bow sweet the dewy roses eath our trysting tree’ Te de the queen of Percy Piac Will never do for me. Will never & hin the Lute. Apparently I had everything to make me happy in the world. Inwardly I was one of the most miserable of God's creatures. I was engaged, with everybody’s consent, toa man who was of suitable age, position and tune. I was young, and the glass and my frien+ls «i me I was exceedingly good-looking. I lov and was staying for the first time in a ¥ house, just such a one as had always been my ideal of aresidence. Yet with all this I was wretched. My engagement had been brongh the usuai way, I believe. ter and I had met and danced with one another ata good many houses during the season, and at the end of it he ha: come and proposed to papa in due form. His pros ; he was the eldest son of an old house; acter was Mexceptionable; bis protestations were fervent. Naturally, therefore, both my father and myself were satisiied, and we accepted him. ‘Then his mother came and called on me, and then asked me to their place—Welby Hail—in Somersetshire. I was there at the end of August, from which date my story commences. I was an only daughter, but I was not on that account a spoiled ehiid, by any means. On the eontrary, my father and mother had been un- usually rigid and particular with me in my bringin up; consequently, I did not go down to Weiby Hail with an overwhelming idea of my own importance, although I was an heiress and abeanty. Indeed, I had every reason to be well satistied with my reception by the family. Old Mr. and Mrs. Leicester welcomed me cordially, anc the girls, Kichard’s sisters, expressed a most tifying approbation of their brother's choice. fichs: himself was polite, attentive, affec- tionate—all that @ girl need desire the man to whom she is engaged to be. Nevertheless, fore I had been in the house three days I’ was Profoundly dejected and uncomfortable. gone down to dinner the night of my }, and found that it was a strictly family Mher guests Would artive on the mor- rT. Leicester told me, but just this one Bight they wished to have me to themselves. just after he had given me this piece of infor- the old gentleman glanced rapidly round table, and then ejaculated: Hailoo! where's Lily?” * She doesn’t feel well, papa, and won't show to-night,” one of the girls answered; and at the same moment Richard (who had also only come from Loudon that day) exclaimed: « Ob! she is here. is she?”” “Yes, didn’t you know it?”’ his mother said Janguidiy. “Dear child! she is invaluable to me—an orphan neice of mine we are speaking | of, Helen, my dear,” she continued, in explana tion to me. am sorry she is not well enough for me to be introduced to her to-night,” I said, as civilly as I could in the face of the fact that I was per- fectly indifferent on the subject. And then I ‘thought no more about my future mother-in- law's orphan niece. But in the course of the evening her existence was recalled to my memory rather disagreeably. I was showing one of the Misses Leicester stiteh I had recently learned in the modern point lace work, when Mr. Leicester suddenly said: “«Tsu'tthat the rubbish Lily laughs at you for ‘wasting your time over, girls?” to langh,” Mrs. | you | think her all these things, not fall in leve with her,” I said, in Tather a piqued tone; and then the first blow was dealt at my happiness by his saying, in ayery low voice: “So I did, Helen.” The hand T bad placed on his arms trembted, It was such a hard thing to hear. “Ob, Richard!” I gasped, “I wish you had nevertold me. I did not venture to hope that 1 was your first love, as you are mine, but I did should never know the one you had loved betore me.” “My darling,” he said, very gravely, “T shall always tell you the wrath; let us begin life by having perfect confidence in one another. Iam a better man for having loved Lily Bray.” “You would have been good enough for me | without having gone through that experience,” I said discontentedly. And then, though ‘I knew it would be be better for me not to persist in going into particulars, my womanly curiosity induced me to ask: * If you loved her, why didn’t you marry her? “For this simple resson—that she wouldn't marry me,” he said, with his face flushing. «Oh, Richard, then you asked her’ He nodded assent, and [ burst out erying. It + so humiliating to hear that a man only chose you after his choice ot somebody else had proved Temitless. ow, Helen, ig." he said = don’t be nonsensical, my i ty; “She would not you haven't told me I knew s question, Ke had got pox: f absurdity he askin, ire to know all about session of m: He made an impatient exclamation, and then Pa “For the same reason men generally want to ry—I loved bet “And why woulin’t she marry you?” “ Because she did not love me in retarn, I sw pose,” he said dryly. up @ romance about it; the thing i over and forgotten. Lilyherself probat it smong the annals of our ch “ Not she,” I said bitterly; “she was remem- bering vividly this morning, when I was intre- dueed to her as your betrothed, that you had loved her first and best.”” He did not say * fiddlesticks,” bat he looked “ fiddiesticks” at me. “ Disabuse your mind of that notion as soon as you can, Helen,” he said; ** for you do injus- tice to Lily. And now let us talk of something els I obeyed him, and talked about something else. But I thought of the subject still, and turned it over in my own mind until it became aweight. Itseemed to me to show bad feeling and bad breeding on Miss Bray's part that she should have elected to stay in the house when I was expected. I could not credit her with the indifterence that Richard did. I could not free her from the charge f being too much inter- ested in him still. Atter a time we went back to the honse, and I betook myself to my own room and to solitary relection until luncheon. At Imncheon Miss Bray was even more gorgeously Dedight than she had been at breakfast. I should have thought nothing of the change of toilet in one of my order, but fora young woman who was dependent on her own exertions, whose means Were so precarious as those of & mere writer must be, I thought this attention to dress mis- placed and ridiculous. It turned out that she was going out driving with her aunt, Mrs. Leicester—going out for a drive and to make calls. But even [had nota more exquisite costume de cisite than this mauve silk one. which fitted and set her off to perfee- tion. She was Sperone bright and cheerful too, and I was so depressed. Altogether, I could not help feeling that though I was the more beautiful woman of the two, she was the more attractive of the two. Again she called lover ** Dick,” ‘in she chaffed him (** chatt an odious word, but it Was the weapon employed by Miss Bray) aboat the lax interest he took in her new literary ven- ture; again she spoke of her speedy departure for town—she was going to-morrow morning, she said. I rejoiced. That night I talked to his sisters about their cousin. They were sweet girls; but had a most preposterous beliet in Lily’s pretensions. They quoted imbecile reviews which had spoken of her as “belonging to George Eliot's school,” and others which contradictorily asserted her to be a second Jane Austen. They ‘‘wondered I hadn’t read this of hers,” and “wished I had read that of hers,” until I felt quite annoyed at their infatuation. ‘Richard and you look upon her uite a at” It never could be closer,” the eldest Miss Leicester said, rather coolly; “‘she is like a sis- ter to us all.” “Indeed! from what Richard confessed this morning 1 should not have su; “Jts all very well for Lil Leicester put in deprecatingly; but the girls are not like her. **Does she do anything better with her time, then?” I asked, feeling antagonistic on behalf of my future sister at once. -* Oh yes,” Mra. Leicester explained, atone of surprise; “she writes the most ‘charming stories—has supported herself fur vears. Why, surely you_mnst know her by her nom de plume, “Heather Beil’ Now I must confess that I Heather Bell’s productions, and had been much charmed with them. But I felt displeased with the girl now for not having come forward like the rest of the family to meet me; s0 I only said «Oh yes, [think Ihave. Richard you never told me you had a consin who was a blue-stock- ing;” and directly 1 had made it I repented of the speech. for I knew that it bad a ring of ill- ature about it. ‘The next morning when I came down to break- fast, I found all the fami save Richard, aw sembled. A young lady sat with her back to the light, absorbed apparently in the perusal of the Times; but she looked up when Mrs. Leicester said, *‘Helen, dear,’ let me introduce my niece, Lily Bray, to you" my view an entirely different face to the one I im my imagination endowed “the authoress” with. She was about three or four and twenty at the time I made her acquaintance, but she was s0 slenderly and delicately made, and her face was so bright and vivacious, that she looked con- siderably younger. I could not help feeting rather aghast at her appearance. She knocked to pieces all amy preconceived potions of what women ought to be like who wrote. A she was exquisitely — dari «i read many of cambric, frilled with dainty Valenciennes lace. She rose up and exf€nded her hand to me cor- my cousin Ri congratulate nd then she si iss Ex jecturing w 1 him before si his arrival yes ¢ Leould make up my mind ther point of interest arose ht under discussion, and L was 1 to throw myself in:o ik seen enough of the Times threw h orative t ious to hay 1 Lily Bray sa » town in the course of a few get it f it.” in town days!” they all exclaimed. ; 4 t come I must. indeed,” she insisted; “even such trifies as novels go astray in the press if they are not well looked after, and 1 um very aaxious that my new one should come out free from other imperfections than those Ihave endowed it with.” « But you'll come back soon?” they chorused, for they were all very fond as well as proud of Lily. Indeed, the reader may have observed that the two sentiments generally go together. #* You'll come back soon?”” *: Yes—at least (with sudden confusion,) [can't when.” + You will find London very dull and empty now,”’ I said, with my grandest society manner. + I'm only going on business,” she said qnietiy: “so the emptiness and dullness won't make an: material Dick,” she continued, dressing my lover, ‘why don’t vou express some of the interest I'm sure you must feel about my new novel 2” and she laughed as she spoke in & very free and unnmbarrassed manner. «You know that | always wish your books suc- eces, Lily,” be said; and then fast came to an end, aud | saumtered out into the grounds with Richard. His pet horse was led out and I patted it. His pointers and greyhounds leaped and bounded about me, and I towed that I delighted in their h gambols. ‘Then he spoke of his sisters, and I told ‘im I thought they were delightful. And then spoke of Lily. oa “ You never mentioned your cousin, Lily Bray, to me, Richard,” I said balf reproachfully. +f wish you had done so; she must have thought it 20 forge'ful and megiigeat of you.” “ She never: es, or takes huff at nothing. he replied. And then’ there was a silence be- tween us for a minate. “ She's rather pretty,” then [ resumed. «Do you think so 7” He spoke indifferently. « Yes, rather; I don’t ax a rule admire hazel and dark hair and complexion; but ccr- tainly I think her pretty. Don’t you?” Yes certainly is as little like a blue-stocking Ihave ever reen.” I went on, mag She is quite a farhionable young t lady. k the stocking.” be auswered charming, good, clever, pretty girl. looked up and disclosed to | | at bis having loved her, she was so loveabl been always quite like a sister to him,” I said. *Confessed:’” they chorused. “Yes, confessed,” I replied, with a little bravado. “It was a daring thing totell me, wasn't it, considering we are only just engaged, that he had asked ber to marry him once?” “Ob! but, Helen,” one of the girls said, with most ill-advised candor, ‘‘papa wouldn't hear of is! ‘So it was only ‘papa not hearing of it’ that reserved Richard for me.” I said savagely, and they all seemed at a great loss what answer to make me, for a few moments. Then one of them, «mitten with a ‘happy thought,”* said: “Iiehard quite feels that it was all for the best now. I could not bear it. Itstang me to rage and fory; aad such pain as I had never felt before, to be coolly told that resignation concerning his fate was the principal feeling of my lover—of the man whom I had believed to be as whol: mine as I was his. I could not bear it. i astonished all those affectionate sisters and well- conducted young women by such a burst of tears and anger, and disappointment, as drove them ina htened flock to their mother’s room, whence she came presently with the following crumbs ot comfort: “My dear Helen! what is all this shocked! Lily wonld be the last perso world to interfere with vour happiness ! * Bother Lily!” I eried tercely. “Ob! now, now, Helen, this is foul it was over long 2 oi “ But J can't to think that it ever was begun, or that it ever existed,” I said. “ He ought to have told me about it; it was mean to deceive me.” “+ Richard could not do anything mean,” said the mother, in arms at once. “ And I'm sure Lily would haye gone before you came if she had though ‘d be put out in this way,” one of his sisters urged, injudi- ciously. And she’s going to-morrow,” said another, us if her “going” cid away with the wrong she had done me in ever having been loved by Kich- ard Leicester. No, He must love me, ‘not I'm in the & j Mt all, oF all’ in all.” 1 felt ray happiness de~ pended on his proving that he did this latter thing within the next tew days. ‘The next morning, as perverse fate would have it something occurred to detain Miss Bray, and to her journey to town. It was some wretched trite, some letter for which she was Lound tojwait, didnot arrive, I believe—but, at r rate, this was the result. She staidon’ at Welby Hiall, and all the inhabitants thereof were evidently delighted that she did stay on. Before that day was over I ceased to wo suick, co clever, so charming and gracef pretty. [loved her myself vif a fool for deing so. B Moreover, she was so independent in udlessness that I bowed down before womanhood before we had been many urs together. Nevertheless, I was supremely wretched. e Was growing within me a conviction that would never be a marriage between Jie, and I loved him very dearly. © did’ not blind me; it only confused red me uncertain fora while. In- 1 shrank from bis caresses now. at he was slow to offer them, or that he ofiered them coldly, but something within me said they were not’otfered by my future hus and. And if this result, of which I had @ presenti- ment, came about, 1 Should have a painful ordeal to pars. A painful ordeal quite independent of my own sutlerings—quite independent of my wouuded heart and mocked and wasted love. My parents were Wi tenacious about my dignity and their own. ired that 1 must aj before the world as one: ighted and rejected y Bichard Leicester, the wound would not be suffered to heal very speedily. J could not reel sure of anything; that was what rendered me so exquisitely miserable and uncertain. If 1 could only have felt sure that Richard loved her better than 1 would have renounced him at onee. Bat { could not feel sure of thi for her conduct Pat d = ab gm so and cousin!) that he was for into & corresponding frank nd coust ner im return. orphan sank down in the Castle of Indolence in which he would have her. But she chose the single-banded in the the army of the professors of lter- ‘The soaby Tall, the ces cee = mab a one suc- She had succeeded, after many asnub from fortune, CB por een and reviewers, 2 ee ee ‘set the seal of ay bation upon her, and it was in ‘ain hat carping rite (a rival novelist and a failure prol nounced ker, in one paragraph, to be « rly untrue to aature,” and “ridiculously realistic.” Her books were read and Mked, though men whose own grammar was very loose, declared that, “by all the canams of art and, mar and good taste. they ought to drop i-born from the press.” She neither dealt with bigamy, nor murder, nor the breaking of the seventh com- re ent wd yet her novels were to the fall as interesting as are any of those in which these dainty and Well, tor three or for days} wenton liking licate subjects are served up with sometimes conquered by ria, my own wish. She elby Hall, waiting for a er toenable her to stand and respecting her was staying on at check from pect assistanc: uncle or aunt, but would just *' bide her time,” she said, her “ship would come home at last.” It came home in justification of her faith; but the day before it did so, fhe interest (if there is any interest in it) of my story culminated. One advantage Ihadover her in the way of charms and fascinations—I sang, and she had no yoice and no knowledge, only a love of music. Iwas singing Viven's song, “It is the little rift within the Lute,” and when I came to the refrain, where the words are repeated. “The little rift within the lover’s late, ‘That by-and-by will make itemusic mute,” ~ T happened to look round, and I saw a eurions expression of mingled pain and sorrow flit over Lilly Bray's face. At the same moment I saw an cxpression of carnest futerrogation on Rich- ard’s face; and he was g: fastly at her. Isang my song out y, giving all the emphasis and meaning of which I was mistress to the words, “ It is not worth the let it go!” I was fully determine¢ e to an open ex- planation with Richard, and to brave the st that — happen to me trom the pity and anger of my friends hereafter. Tsonght an eariy opportunity of seeing Ric alone, and then 1 raid tion or delay: tichard, what old memories were stirred in you and Lilly Bray when I was singing Vivien’s tong just now.”” Siow can I answer for her, Helen?” he said. “I think you can answer for her. Tell me—be honest and true, as 1 shall always love to think ot you, Richard—tell me what was ‘the little rift’ that bas made the love-music of her life mute; she loves you still.” He did not speak. i “And you love her,” I wenton passionately. regret that I have seen her again,” he said ina sad voice. * No, den't—don't regret it; make me your friend, since I can’t be your wite. Tell me what parted yon; was the parting all your father’s in ard right out, without hesita- , it was not. I should have clung to her, and won my father’s consent to our marriage in time, but I was fool enough to distrust her, foot enough to feel Jealous because she would not tell me what man she was corresponding with, when I knew that she was corresponding with one. It turned out atterward—after we had parted—that it was an editor, whose interest she was strivin, to enlist in behalf of one of her stories. But I di: not even know that she wrote them, and so—but never mind: it’s all over now JHelen.”” 1 did not say any more to Lim, but I went to Lily Bray soon after. She was very busy writ- her bedroom. ou’ve come to revile me for not being dressed for dimer, are you not?” she said, throwing down her pen good-temperedly, and getting up, as I entered the room. * No, I am not come to revile you at all,” I said; “I am come to take counsel with you.” Yes?” “ What would you do, Miss Bray, if you found the man you were en, «l to, loved another woman better than he did you?—stop a mo- ment!—what would you do, sapposing you loved the man, and thought very y of the woman he preterred?”” «Why do you ask me this?” she said with her bright face very set and calm « Because I want to have such a knotty point,” I said, with a forced laugh. “You have solved such difficulties frequently in your novels; how would you meet them in real fe?” “How would I meet them, indeed !” she said, nodding her head in a sort of implied hopeless ness of arriving at a decision. Then sudden she. changed and flashed into her own bright self agai “«T have had to solve aharder question than that, Miss Burton.”” What was it?” I asked. “This: you asked me to point out the path of duty to another. I have had to point it out to myself—and follew it.” Will you tell me how?” I said. ‘oe, no; the telling an old story partakes of the nature of vain repetitions. It's enough for me to tell you that I did what I thought righton the occasion referred to. You ask my advice: do the same.” * So 1 will,” I said, iting nearer to her while I was speaking. ‘Then a silence fell upon us as 1 took her hand. “ Lily,” I said, ‘we are unhappy in one Ehuing we like each other, (how she clasped my hand when I said that! both love the same man. Well, I love him we! enough to try to set. a crooked ’ matter straight. He would never be happy with me as “his wife “Oh, Miss Burton you wrong’ yourself!” she interrupted. Richard is nothing to me but a cousin—a dear cousin, almost a brother. What have I done, how have I been so unfortunate as to create this suspicion in gour mind ?”” * You have created no suspicion gave of your being ever #0 much better suited to him than I am,” I said. ** And now we must dress tor din- ner, and we must part friends.”” ‘That night I broke off my engagement. I won t tell you how I did it, for it was a very hor- ible thing todo. And thé folowing day.Pwent ome. It was a long time before I could make my father and mother understand that, thou; was neither false nor fickle, I had not n slighted, insulted and jilted. When I had borne this in aie their comprehension, I wrote to Lily ray, ing her not Bul e good effects ot that hick I had done. ms She came to see me in London. She wa bright and charming and bewitching as ever, but she was not engaged to her cousin yet. “His father was simply furious at the breakin, offot Dick's engagement with you,” she sai “and he sets his tace more determinedly than ever against me.” And thenshe turned the con- versation and spoke of her books, and tried to make me believe that her heart was in them and their welfare alone. I did not believe her. Ambitious as sweet Lily Bray was, she was far too womanly a woman to be satisfied with public applause, and fame, and good reviews, and plenty of money, earned honestly though it was by tasking her mind. She needed love and protection, and sympathy, and I knew it. Atlength—I wish I could have been instru- mentalin it—a great change came. She was the popular authoress of the day, and she would command splendid prices for all that she wrote. “4 She yielded then to her lover's solicitations and to mine, and married Leicester, to the great delight of every member of his family save his father, who always thought that he did neither wisely nor well in obeying thedictates of his heart and honor and conscienee, and marrying Lily ged instead of me. ‘But it ls “the little ritt within the lute” that “by and by will make its music mute.” Some- how or other, I never have felt quite as I did before I found that I and my mouey were very valueless as compared with some other things. Lilly Bray is Mrs. Richard Leicester now—a very Bappy, Prosperous woman, I have every reason to believe. The world loves her books, her husband loves her—and [—the old maid friend of the tamily—am god-mother to her eldest child, to whom I have promised to leave the bulk of my property. The ordeal through which I had to pass was not half so awful in reality as it was in anticipa- tion, Lwas very cheery and respectable agait in a very short space of time, though my love! had preferred another woman to me. But cheery and respectable as [ am, I often feel in my solitude a pang, as I reflect on the truth of the words, « It is the little rift within the lute that by and by will make its music mute.’ —Harper's Monthly. A Curious Adventuress, There is a lady of an unusual adventurous spirit providing amusement for the public in Germany. She has gone through a variety of characters in male costume with eminent suc- cess, acting successively as groom, coachman, valet, ete., to various employers, giving perfect satisfaction and obtaining excellent characters, ler masters never suspecting her sex. The late war roused nobler ambitions within her. Pre- fixing the title Von” to her name, and donning the blue coat with an iron cross upon it, Miss Bertha Weiss made her debut as a wounded Prussian officer. Passing through varioustowns she enlisted everywhere the sympathy of the inhabitants, who received her as an ‘honored guest, and is said even to have made some havoc amon; ladies’ hearts. U she was Tound out just when her , film isa thick, white, | aul n before thought that diphtheria indred diseases might be su by mechanical and is becoming so common and (sso difficult. of cure, that the above facts are given for what they may be worth. | SPIRIT MANIFESTATIONS IN JAVA. the Preanger Regence tn te western pat at in the cy, we ol Java, a fs pamed Von Kessinger. Herr von Kessinger, vice of the Dutch government as assistant-resi- dent, then the bi functi of a district, or sub-residency. The family two persons—bimselt and his wife, a lady born in the Indies. They had no children, but, on the other hand—a very common custom in India, and especially in childiess Furopean fam- ilies—a litle native girl, of about ten years of age, had free and unchecked entrauce to the house st all times. The father of the child was Madame Kessinger’s cook. Herr von Kessinger, like all the assistant- residents in Ja lived in what was called by courtesy @ government mansion, a one-story house standing in a |, bulltot wood, ant with the customary tiled roof. One day the lit- tle Inchan girl was playin ont as usual in the apartment of Madame k whose hus- band was absent on a so- tion.”” Suddenly the child started up, ram sob- bing to the lady, and complained that some one had sprivkied her white kobaya (the universal native garment, open before, aud like a coat) with red-betel juice. The matter was immediately inquired into, but without reaching any result. Madame Kes- singer supposed, very naturally, that the spots proceeded from the rudeness of Some one of the svperfiuous hangers-on among the servants. A clean frock was given to the child, and the trouble was supposed to be settled. Immediate- ly, however, the little gir! came cryingas before, and again her kabaya was found to be staine with the red-betel juice, and, at the same ment, astone. the size of alten’s-egg, fell at che reet Of Madame Kessinger, as if thrown trom the ceiling. These same manifestations were repeated several times successively within a short interval, so that Madame Kessinger at ence sent aservant to the regent, or prince, of the natives, who lived opposite, to beg him to come to her immediately. The regent, who held Dutch government, was | tried capacity and integri thority under the garded asa manof He hastened with- y assistant-resident and soon had anopportunity to convince kim of the truth of what he had heard. He imme ately took all possible measures to put an end the ‘disturbance. He took possession of th house with his retinue, and then sent every one exeept the child out of the room. But, never- theless, the spots continued to m the clothing. Now and then, too, a stone fell, and, as the case remained inexplicable, it was ai length resolved to callin the chief priest that the evil spirit might be exorcised. eanwhile, the twilight had fallen; the chief priest arrived at the house, spread down his mats, and, havi: seated himself, opened the Koran, ped pre pared to read aloud’ from it by the light of a lamp. Scarcely, however, had he begun, when a blow from an invisible hand knocked the holy book in one direction and the lamp in another. Madame von Kessinger now became too much glarmed to think of spending the night in this baanted dwelling with only the child, and ac- cepted the invitation of the regent to go to his house with the little girl and remain until the next day, While there, the child was un- molested. Meantime, messen; were sent to recali Herr von Kessinger, and scarcely had he returned with his wife and the child to theirown dwelling when the same visitations were re- peated. During the mght a stone rarely fell, and by day the girl alone was stained with the betel- juice, while every other person was untouched. The story of this strange event spread quick to all the larger towns adjacent, and finally came to the ears of the governor-general in Buitenzorg., who immediately sent one of his adjutants, Major Michiels, a veteran officer of high character and intelligence, to bring back a report of the facts. Lge his arrival, Michiels found the whole affair exactly as represented, and instantly made his arrangements to sitt the matter to the bottom. ‘The house was surrounded with soldiers, and Persons were posted on the roof and in the nearest trees. The apartment which he selected for himself was metamorphosed into a tent by means of white cloth; he then took the child on his knee, and again it was spattered with betel-juice as before, and again stones fell, without, however, striking any one. The stones were of a very ordinary kind, such as were to be found every- where on the roads and in the garden-walks. ‘When the sun shone hot, a felt warm; when itrained, they were wet, as if just picked up. Usually five or six fell in quick succession, after which an interval of perhaps half an hour would follow without any. Nowhere did the finely- woven linen of the tent exhibita hole. The stones fell always in astraight direction from above, and first became visible to the eye at a distance of six feet from the ground. On one day they athered up of these stones a tolerably large box- 1. Once only a papaya-fruit, a sortofa melon which grows on a species of palm, fell into the room, and, when the suriounding floor was searched, the stem also was found from which it was broken, From the leaf-stem great drops of the milky sap still exuded. At another time a Jump of plaster, as large as a man's fist, fell into the tent, which, as was afterward found, fitted into the corner of the hearth in the kitchen. At another time the impression of a moist hand was plainly seen to pass across the surface of a pier- glass; and chairs, glasses, and plates, were moved. Michiels remained several days at Sumadang, but arrived at no solution of the mystery. tn due time a report of these strange occurrences reached Holland, and even attract the atten- tion of the king. In consequence of this, an order was sent to India that another attempt to discover, if i~ ble, the clew to these manifestations should be made. The writer of these lines found himself, in 1854, in Sumadang, and occupied there the same house in which the Von Kessinger family formerly lived, and in which the scenes just de- seribed took place, and there were living at that time as wany as twenty eye-witnesses of the occurrences. Most of these were natives, but there were among thein two Europeans, and their testimony, given independently of one another, is the basis of the present account. The Kessinger family had long been gone from the Indies, the old regent was dead. the little girl, the heroine of the transaction, had already become @ grandmother, and was in the serviceot Herr A. Band, a tea-planter of Java, but her early experiences had never been re- newed or explained. Several gentlemen offered a resward of two hundred gulden to any person who would give them an opportunity of witnessing such a gen- darua, as but there were no further revelations at that time. And the new investigations, like the former, have had no decisive results. General Michiels avoided, with sensitive re- luctance, in after years, any relation of these occurrences, and even any allusion to them, as soon as he discovered that his account was usual- ly received with a smile. In the year 1847 it iappened one day that General von Gagern, then accompanying the embassy extraordinary to India, dining with him, pressed him to give seme account of the affair. Michiels refysed at first, and yielded only after being repeatedly urged; but, as General von Gagern could not repress a smile, so violent a scene took place in consequence that he was tinaily obliged to make a formal apology. Tn consequence of the personal commission of | the government, the present Resident of Su- ng takes a special interest in procuri telligence from elsewhere with regard to this species of spiritism; and from the Kegent of Sukapure, in the southern portion of the re- | ferey: he learned directly that, during the itetime of his father, a very similar case oc- curred, in which he himself was personally con- cerned. Some few miles from Sukapure there lived, at that time, a family named Tesseire. M. Tesseire,a native of of an indigo factory at that place, belonging to the government. Although at that time (this was in 1834) the culture of indigo was regarded as a heavy burden by the natives, and the gov- ernment was ultimately obliged to give it up as impracticable in that region, all accounts uxite in = M. Tesseire and his family were beloved by the inhabitants, and looked upon as good and friendly Jy there fell several large stones in the middle of the table; and from that moment this was re- peated regularly and almost uninterruptedly for a fortnight—sometimes in one, sometimes in another, apartmentof the house. Several times M. Testeire himself, while in the open field, ted with earth time buffalo- r, a German by birth, was in the ser- consisted of only | e natives called the manifestation, , France, was overseer _ le. ‘As this family was one day at dinner, sudden. | been done in Sumedeng. It had, like all the native houses, only a single dwelling-room, The old woman walked in first, immediately bobin | her the resident Ament, them the assistaut-res\- | dent, and the regent with his suite. A narrow path led to the door. No sconer had the old woman stepped over the threshold than she was seized by the feet, and by an invisible hand ¢ d forward several steps, screaming loudly for help house was, as already said, entirely surrounded by the soldiery; the room, like all'such little bam boo-houses, Was without a ceiling, an] open to the roof, under which a linen awning was stretched. The inspector Ament entered next, but had scarcely passed the door when a hand- ful of coarse sand was thrown with great force against his breast. M. Ament, a vers intrepid max, has since told me that nothing would have given him grester satisfaction than to make the experiment again, butthat he has never had | the opportunity. Here, also, the most exact and exhavstive investigations led to no results. Within the last twenty-five years the gendarwa has become more rare; indeed, it has who! ceased to appear, or perhaps is concealed by the natives through an apprehension of ridicale. But about twelve years ago there appered some~ thing of asimilar natore also in Bandong, and the aseistant-resident Visher van Gaasbees went instantly to the house, but saw no manitesta- tions. With the more liberal, and even in some measure cultivated, regents and smaller chiefs of the country, one can cor these mysterious appearances. ‘They confess that they believe firmly in the reality of them, but say that they are not able to explain them. The really highty-intelligent Regent of Tjamis has even said: {believe that there are families in which the power of rendering themselves in- visible is hereditary, and that it is in ce of the gradual extinction of thes ics that the visitations of t frequent at the pre y Such is the account given by cre i vince always be an degree it is to the part of these concerned is leftto the j ment of the reader.—Appleton's Journal. ccessful Hedging. A few weeks ago we drove through portions of | the States of Delaware and Maryland, and were surprised to see how universally the hedge was used asa substitute tor fences. One of our trav- eling companions was a gentleman who was | quits familar with England, and he would fre- quently exclaim,“ like a road [remember in Kent,” or some other part of Engl was the scenery and the hedgerows. Osage Orange may be said to be the universal hedge plant; here and there the Cockspur Thorn, or, as itis there called, the Black Thorn, and some other of our native thorns are used. The Osage Orange, however, makes a superior hedge; not only more compact, but it presentsa more pleas- d, solike ing green, its lively-iooking foliage, in dasty times, making a more cheerful appearance than that of the thorns. ‘The thorns belong to the Rose family, and, like all their relatives, are subject to the attacks of numerous insects, a trouble from which the Osage Orange is par- ticularly free. With hedges, as with all other crops, (?) the best results attend the best culti- vation, and one can no more hope to grow a hedge under neglect than he can expect a crop of corn to successfully contend with the weeds, and then yield seventy-five bushels to the acre. ‘The old method of hedge-making, that of cutting back each year, and raising the hedge by regu- lar stages from @ broad base, is well-nigh aban- doned. In preparing the ground for a hedge, it is necessary toexercise great care in removing all roots of native shrubs or vines. If the hedge to be set upon the site of anold fence, where vines and creepers have become established, this is especially oanangeod 1 — — Sey tL peody Virginia Creeper, and similar things will greatly interfere ‘with the growth of the hedge. The plants are set about six inches apart, and kept carefully cultivated. Neither nor wee are allowed to intrude My es the young growth, and a fence of some kind itup to protect it | from injury by animals. The plants are allowed | to grow at will for three or four years, according to the growth they have made, after which time they are “laid down,” as itis called in Delaware, or “slashed,” as SE! say out West. This opera- tion is performed in spring, and consists in bending the plants over and cutting each one half-way or more through, at a point three or four ‘above the surface, and laying it down upon the preceding one. ‘After this 0} " both the ony severed stump and the —— that have been laid down throw up innumerab shoots and form a broad and dense thicket, hedge. By this treatment a full, thick bottom is secured—so thick that @ rabbit | can hardly get through it—and several prunings | during the early growth are saved. The after treatment cach Soar’ Ths cuttings belay tLree, prunin, ‘year. cutting, being dome wuille the woods still soft, is very rapidly performed. A simple knife, lik corn-cutter, is the implement generally perferred. The finest hedges we saw were those upon the estate of D- J. Blackiston, Esq., Kent county, Md. This | gentleman has five miles of hedging, and ther are justly a matter of pride to him. He that last year he kept an account of what it cost | him to keep his inorder. ‘The work was | done by one of his regular hands, and the tim | that he devoted to the hedge came to $26.— | American Agricutturi Sensation Scavengers. The sale of the effects of Rev. John Selb: England, took place lately at auction. Inorder to prevent, as far as possible, the entrance of a large crowd, one shilling was’ charged for a cat- alogue, but, notwithstanding, a large number of persons paid the “ entrance fee,” and satisfied their curiosity by looking at the ‘various rooms and articles within the dwelling which had been at all associated with the murder. Many went | even so far asto take away leaves and twigs and shrubs in the front garden as mementos. The sale commenced about ten o’elock in the number of persons, chiefly of t for the catalogue and found access Every nook and corner of the house seems to have an interest for the visitors, and stains and spots of all descriptions were put down as those of blood. The room in which the unfortunate | lady was found, although, as far as possible, | kept closed, was, when opportanity offered, en- | tered, and the corner in which the body was dis- covered closely scrutinized and commented up- on. The catal | chiet attraction in it seemed to be those articles | Closely associated with the murder. The usual household effects were knocked down at about an average price. One lot, comprising a photo- | graph in gilt frame, two small pictures and five | pictures ed and glazed, fetched 1. 4s., | incloding the portrait, as announced by the | pistols, to which reference erse calmly upon | Wateon, who murdered his wife at Stockwell, | } forenoon; but long before that time ® large | e com) usual brokers and buyers at coe paid) to the house. | e comprised 224 lots, but the | anetioneer, of the reverend gentleman. Some | was made | | made in the report of the examination at the | police court, fetched a few shillings, and two | stk gowns, a cassock and girdle, and hoods belonging to Watson, realized about 2I. 10s. | A Trinity college medal, gold Masonic medals, and other articles of jewelry, fetched fair prices. | Itwill be remembered that, according to the | evidence, the reverend gentleman. ordered a large iron-bound chest to be made, in which, it is supposed, he intended to conceal’ the body of his victim. This cost WV. , but was yesterday sold to a person at Hammersmith for 7s. Every article, as before stated, having the slightest connection with the dreadful affair was closely | | watched, but the utmost interest was manifested upon the stuffed arm leather chair, in which it is supposed the deceased lady was seated when the first blow was strack, being brought for- ward. It had a piece of the leather cutout apon which blood stains had been found. There was much anxiety to catch sigh’ of the chair, which fell to a purchaser for Its. The books and papers, ete., of the reverend gentleman were disposed of privately. Ir 1s Woxperrvt how abuse follows use in every human matter, andhow cunning | in eee eee ae anentire | — he omeaggeel nage) in ‘These objects always fell in ndieular | With erful taking direction from ove, and, exactly az in ‘Suma. | —S wi veo Sitncat the” = dang, became visible at the height of five or six | termined by tareg _ feet from the fovr,o inurywas done ty tue | Ho” whlch a knowlcdgeet jie pomerial proper. inhabitants of the house. The Regent of Suka- | jife: and the e ‘thi: pure, friend of M. Tesseire, bast- | Cther, and chioroformy sot threes erphine, ened to him, and one of the chambers of the | Sre tam with all Gally. Pechape tt | wi ', for 5 od Han eter take ee would be safer tostick to absinthe sr maraschino, a ne yours. declares—when, before | SPECIFIC FoR TRERIA—The Italian man is | | | | BOYS’ SCHOOL and DRESS SUITS, in ages from a.E * oclt-tf peering rEices ERYDODY PLEASED LIVELY TIMES aT WITMER'S STORE. ec. FAMILY GROCERY 1918 PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE. CLEAN SWEEP CLOTHING SALE INAUGURATED THIS DAY, NOV. 17, 2872, ATMORE'S MINCE MEAT Ise MHITE COFFER SUGAR 12 BEST DEMERAR = Bde Prime New York ¢ FRUITS. and ali Goodsat reduced prices. @. SMITH & COOS COMMISSION PRODUCE EXCHANGE. #09 D STREET, (first door cast TY. M.C. A. Building.) efier for eale, at market values AT OAK HALL, 525 Tru STREET, OPPOSITE POST OF TICE, And te be continued daily antil our entire stock of FALL AND WINTER CLOTHING, comprising Wp pkgs NY. State Gold-nlge RUTTER 1 Boxee =, CHEESE Mo tage BUCA WAEAT FLOOR $37,000 WORTH us Sa tety i retnin of every quality and variety of SUPEBFINE, FINE, MEDIUM AND COMMON | CLOTHING Including every description of fashionable DRESS AND BUSINESS SUITS OFF STGAB.__. ORTO RICO SUGAR - SUGAR CURED mh) = OVERCOATS, WRAPPERS, ARD. CAPES, GARRICKS AND SHAWLS, piney STATE ROLL PUTER, gboice, BOX (in om) nsssssnsecsrenns 250. er Wt BOYS’ SUITS, OVEROOATS, &c. ¥ FLOUR - eae 02.15, €2, S240 of TEAS from San best quality, at the fol'o Our “ONE IDEA” is to BELL?!It! BF At ony avd every hazard, until we eball have it will pay to give ae a call be a Hi ig eleew here jorth Side) PENNSYLVANIA AVENT! CLEAN SWEEP 4 Between Sd and 4 street’ of every Garment in our stock. QGBeoczaiss. ‘We would respectfully call the attention of dealers and families te our pi Ay swok of = FAL. ROC. 8, OUR BEASONS valon e RIES, xe = yA conrtgs.. Teor eaete en ew and guaranter ¢] of Wathinstom and eictativaa’® me witht wate | oni asit at very low figure: aa CANNED GOODS: OAK HALL White Heath Peaches. Duchess Pears. Tomatsin, i derstood and ap- wi iuscotanh, ” eiraed na Sats iene, sedated Brit Fina Enieter, ae owghiy divest the announcement of ali appearance af ALso, humbug or musrepresentation. NEW YORK BUCK Wit rr, Rew York trees, Being convinced early last summer from t! dearth of wool m the markets that a rise in the price o NDERRIES, ae of staple and fancy must speedily follow pony Me senpeticn of briek Krall trade a METZGER uni 7 Oper fall and continued warm weather of @ BYLES, 417 SEVENTH STBEET. Between D and E. ‘Washington, D. ©. PRUDENCE, CAUTION AND NECESSITY oca-tr » STperposndsas it bas, fine OOLONG TEA, at as it has Dect pronounced by connolsecare the Snest in ouxrownFn LB Mt Have decided us to offer this surplus stock at euch figures as must command ready sales. Therefore we announce that for the next Afty di orunti] a CLEAN SWEEP 1s made of owr stock, thts sale wail contimue from day to thai no reasonable sacrifice wii! be aliowed in the wan of a thorouzh realization of 01 toms, and will refuse mo covering the cost af man! dai to ten fer Sor any Garment a: ail facture. Onr stock willbe daily from the 8 89,888 "Clething te wer extent manufac Freserick streots, including Mor. 48 and. 30 West “ fon dS and 30 West Baltimore street‘and 103°3 and 7M. rederick street. N™“= WALKER €& ©0., 611 PENNSYLVANIA AVENUB, Between 6rn anv Tru Sts. ALED HERRING. Sornrpeseces, CLOTHING FOR MEN AND BOYS. Pen by he ny BUSINESS SUITS, of Melton, Scotch and Domestic watte 4 ‘at beat custom eek abd Tally 20 por cent. cheaper.” | York prices, by LJ 5 ssoweine & MIDDLETON, WINES, &o. RESETS FALL OVERCOATS, at reduced prices. three years and upwards ty andstyles. BOYS’ OVERCOATS and TOGAS. MEN'S OVERCOATS, of various fabrics, aaptot and at prices Ieee than the Same make of goods Can be purchased cleewhere. Te een and Cassimere SHIRTS, of superior NS and BOYS’ UNDERSHIRTS and DRAW- “E Ns ios ‘TIES, SCARFS, mist +s “ ICE TO THE PUBLIC—We offer for sale, CTithout regard to cost, ll Dee. ity the enties- tensive stock of. A Men's YOUTHS" 3S CLOTHING, ands 3, as the re- , in great variety of quali- and Bi stock of FURNISHING Ds maining stock will be sold at auction. STORE FIXTUBES for sale. = . ANDE! oct Sten Sect Lee ek. FF’. ?+ Giitecttor to H.W. Loudon & 0o..) CITIZENS, ARMY i so MERCHANT TATRDR, |, (late Brown’ winery SOS Pene's srenne, Wastinaton. INSURANCE COMPANIES. WITHER AND FIRES ARE APPROACHING. INSURE YOUR PROPERTY pe On sir ————— a REAL ESTATE AGENTS. EELIABLE COMPANI qm eae WITH le A. S. PRATT 4 5ON, AL BSTATD abctiongbas, OE ERS .M.C. aA. ING, ane Pitta rte ywoess No. 643 LOUISIANA AVENUE, NATIONAL METROPOLITAN MO Dene Heer eb Reveiaes Reene. INSURANCE COMPANY, ome DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA. We have the following eums to lend en real estate: ORGANIZED AUGUST 26. ' 224.220. 222,200. casH —s 100,000 : Es vos SSreane:” BgpRS RELLY, Preeti ptligiblexeal eotate, improved and unimproved, SAMUEL CROSS, Secretary. * Bpecial attention to sales at Auction.