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FRANK LESLIE'S LADY'S JOURNAL, 16 pages, issued weekly', contains excellent Pic ~tures and full descriptions of the very Latest Styles of Ladies and Children's Wear; useful in formation on Family Topics; Select Stories; Beautiful Illustrations of Home and Foreign Subjects; Poetry; Fashionable Intelligence; Personal Chit Chat; Amusing Cartoons on the Follies and Foibles of the Day; Sparks of Mirth, etc., etc. Fr.RNK LESLIE'S LADY's JOUENAL is th.e most beautiful of all the ladies' papers. It should be found on the table of every lady in the land. Price 10 cents a copy; annual subscription, $4, post paid. FRANK LESLIE's POPULAR MONTHLT has made rapid strides as the rival of many as pirants to public favor. Its contributors are some of the best living writers. Every department of literature is represented in its columns. 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Every num ber has 128 pages filled with the most select and fascinating literature, ranging from the Sermon by the Editor (Dr. C. F. Deems, pas tor of the Church of the Strangers,) to stir ring Tales, general Topics and Essays, Poe. ry, Music, Fun, Science, History, etc.,* in great variety. Each copy of this Magazine has 100 exquisite engravings of the most in teresting character. It has reached a circu lation and prosperity such as make it one of the marvels of periodical literature. It is in deed a beautiful work. Buy it and see for yourselves. Single copies arc only 25 cents, and Annual Subscription Price only $3, post paid. Address orders to FEANK LEsLIE's PUBLIsHING HOUSE, - 537 Pearl Street, New York. Ma. , a m-. Votro. HAUNTING EYES. In the hour I first beheld thee, Soft thy kindly glances fell, And my heart bowed down before thee, As beneath a magic spell Since that time, like some sweet phaDtom, In my home thy form doth rise, And where'er my sad gaze wanders, There I meet thy haunting eyes HOW HE CONQUERED. -0 Paul Weimer was in love. Poor: Paul! The object of his affections did not know her own mind, and her parents despised him. His beloved was the toll-keeper's daughter and lived on the bridge which spanned the broad river below his mountain home. Aida was naturaily a coquette, and her father's position opened a w%ay for the indulgence of this disposition to an unlitnited extent, so that her lovers were numbered by the dozen, and even Count Rudolph himself failed not to cast an ad miring glance upon the flair girl in his frequent journeys across the bridge. Still she was by no means indifferent to the manly charms of Paul Weimer, and she declared to he mother that there was not, in ail the, province, is bright a pair of eyes as Paul's black orbs. As it was impossible to deny this, the mother merely said it was a. pity he did not employ them of tener in searching out the insects that destroyed his vines than in sighting the chamois upon the heights. "And his figure, too," persisted the girl, who desired to uphold Paul, now that anoth-er spoke against him. "Did you ever see a more mag nificent formed man, mother ?" "Oh, that is well enough, but his form was climbing over crags and precipices in search of the wild goat, when he should have been digging in his vineyard." Aida knew this was true enough, so she made no reply, yet, among all her suitors, none occupied so many of her secret thoughts as dark-eyed Paul, and the day on which her father turned him from their door and commanded him never to enter it again was a sad one for her, although she would not acknowledge that she loved him. Young Weimer was rendered desperate by this proceeding, and became wilder in consequence. The poor chamois had reason to curse the toll-keeper's cruelty, for Paul now hunted them with relentless zeal, and more than ever neglected his vineyard. "The mills of the gods grind slowly," but each one's turn comes at last, and those who care not what others suffer have personal sufferings thrust upon them. The winter was passing and the toll-keeper had begun rejoicing at the prospect of the return of spring. The river was still frozen, but the south wind blew warm and balmy, and there had been warm rains upon the mountains, so that the ice was soon expected to disappear. The family retired to rest as usual, and were enjoying the peaceful sleep that follows a day of labor, whben a sudden and terrible awakening came upon them. Thbe elements were raging, their house shaking to its founda tions, and the crash of falling ar ches greeted their ears. The trembling man sought the roof of his house and discovered that the bridge at either end had been swept away, and he and his family were prisoners in the midst of a whirlpool that every instant threatened destruction. He cried aloud for help, and his voice was heard above the roar of the-ele ments by a crowd of horrified gazers on.the river's bank, but no one dared to face destruction in going to his aid. Count Rudolph rode up in haste, and in his hand a purse.. "Five hundred crowns to any one who attempts their rescue," shouted he, but no one moved, and destruction se'emed inevitable. A stir in the crowd announces a newT arrival, andl a man in course apparel, with an Alpine staff in his hand, is seen dividing the crowd right and left as they im peded his onward progress. To the Count he paid no attention whatever, but at once made for the river, where a small fisher's boat lay upon the bank. Without a word he launched into the boil ing current, and was soon fighting his way toward the central pier, upon which the toll-keeper's house stood. After a desperate effort and many rarrow escapes he reached the place, and the fright ened keeper attempted at once to step in, unmindful of the fate of his wife and child. "Keep back !" shouted the man in tho boat, and giving it a turn, nearly precipitated the toll-keeper in the boiling flood. "I can take but one at a time, and Aida must come first." They then knew their brave rescuer was Paul Weimer. Know ing that remonstrance was useless, the father helped his daughter in to the boat. As it was shoved off from the pier, the girl exclaimed. "My mother! Will you not save my mother ?" "If God spa.res me, I will return for her," replied, the deliverer, and then bent all his energies to getting safely back to land. This accomplished, he delivered Aida into the hands of sympa thizing women, and a second time attempted the dangerous passage. Providence once more crowned his efforts and he reached the pier in safety, when the -keeper, in whom all affection seemed dead, tried at once to step into the boat. "Your wife first!" cried Paul, lifting an oar, and half-tempted to strike the cowardly wretch, who stepped back in despair. 4s the boat departed, the toll keeper feared the young man would leave him to his fate, and he knew he deserved nothing bet ter at his bands, so he cried out in anguish. "If you return for me, Paul, Aida shall be yours with my blessing." No answer was heard in return, and the poor wretch feared his last chance was gone. Once more the little ark, with its precious human freight, ap proached the shore, and Aida clasped her mother in her arms. "Hereafter I live only for you, Paul!" exclaimed the grate ful girl, as the youth stood a moment to breathe, before again breasting the torrent. One kiss on her fair cheek sealed the contract, and he wvae off for the third time on his errand of mercy. The poor keeper on the pier could hardly believe his senses, as he saw Paul return, and com pletely humbled, ho silently took his seat in the little boat. They had not yet reached the shore, when the pier on which the house had stood, tottered and fell into the boiling whirlpool ; but the frail boat providentially reached land in safety, and the father was restored to his wife and daughter. Prayers and thanks were poured out upon the head of the brave deliverer. Count Rudolph hastened to offer his purse of gold, which was refused with dignity. "The hazards of my life canrnot be purchased," he exclaimed; "and charity I do not need ; besides I am more than rep)aid for all my efforts in thus gaining the desire of my heart." The Count looked slightly en vious, but determined on gene rosity, he bestowed his purse of gold upon the poor toll-keeper whose all had been swallowed up in the tumult of waters. Soon afterward, Paul Weimer led his bride to the altar, and his old haunts knew him no more; the chamois had rest on the mountains, but he exhausted him self upon the enemies of his vines, and it soon came to be known that in all the province there was not a more flourishing vineyard than Paul Weimer's. So neither Aida nor her parents had cause to re gret the bestowal of her hand up on her brave deliverer. Ennui is a malady for which the only remedy is work ; pleas ure is only a palliative. FOR THE HERALD. BROADBRIM'S NEW YORK LETTER. No. 61. rhe Stewart Home for Friendless Girls---A Magnificent Charity-How the Poor are Benefited-The Virtues- of Oleomar garine--The Luck of a Defaulting Cashier--General News, &c. "Though I speak with tongues >f men and of angels, and have not -harity, then am I become as the ounding brass, or as a tinkling ,ymbal." At one o'clock on the tenth day >f April, 1876, an old man lay 3truggling with the angel of death n the most costly 'marble palace in .ew York. The wealth of the orld lay scattered about, gathered rom every nation on the face of the 1arth. Precious fabrics from In ian and Persian looms hung tround the couch of the dying man, :ought with the unceasing toil of ,ountless lives in those far-off lands here blood and brain are but ninor factors in the terrible prob em of life. No child was there to ioothe his dying moments, nor carcely a grieving friend. One old oman, who for years had been lenied his sympathy, silently watch 3d the struggle which in a few mo nents - would leave her the richest widow in the world. The struggle as a protracted one; but death, which comes sooner or later to us ill, had stricken down this helpless, iged sufferer, and the owner of ancounted millions, as the clock struck one, lay a lump of lifeless -lay. Some who were near him when be was dying, heard him ex 3laim, "Too late! too late! too [ate!" What did he mean by "too [ate ?" This man's life was a suc 3ess. He had -accumulated be tween fifty and a hundred millions of dollars. The poles were almost reached and 'the equator had been spanned by him in his lustful pur suit for gold. The world was his market, and men and women in all limes were his slaves, and paid him constant tribute. And yet, in the history of modern life, there is no such instance of utter and gi gantic failure-no parallel of such moral and mental bankruptcy to be found in the history of men. He piled up gold mountain high. He erected mighty- buildings, and iled them with the riches of every Land. Thousands upon thousands toiled for him from the rising of the sun to the going down of the same. And yet, dying, he left no memory behind him by which men should call him blessed. When the life current grew weaker, and hope yielded to despair, and the cer tainty of approaching death was pressing upon him, he conceived the idea of erecting a memorial which should pass his name with benison to posterity, when his gold had turned to dross and his body had crumbled into dust. On the corner of Thirty-second street, just where the tunnel of the Fourth avenue road burrows under the stately mansions of Murray Hill, there arose a palace of iron, massive and strong, known as the Home for Friendless Girls. Foi- a time there was wonderous activity, and people looked on with painful anxiety, waiting for its completion. Then everything stopped. For years, all was silent. Dust accum ulated in the magnificent halls and corridors, and the bat and owl found quarters in the splendid rooms that might have been the abode of prices. The great mil lionaire was too busy gathering in his wonderous accumulations, to pause for the pastime of charity. And so he went on, till stricken down on that April day ; and then it was too late. He died without accomplishing one thing which should link his name with t.he bless ing of charity. Too late to complete his life work himself, he chose an almoner for his bounty who should carry on that work to completion which he had left unfinished, and who would yet redeem the life that he had made a wreck. His friend, the Hon. Henry Hilton, was select3d, and to him, although already a wealth man he presented the princely gift of a million. In all of this great city, there is probably aot such another man. A man with nerves of steel, with will of iron, and heart of stone. The poor .nd the helpless never approach bim, and if he ever was guilty of -barity, he has kept it so secret that bis left hand has never become cognizant of the reprehensible weak ness of the right. But even Judge Hilton astonished his friends with the intelligence that the lome was to be finished; the accumulated -obwebs of years were swept away; %nd once more it looked as if we were going to rejoice in the in %uguration of one of the grandest ,harities in America. It is rumored now that the home will soon be opened, and that the poor and friendless girls of New York, can secure quarters under its magnificent roof from eight to 6wenty dollars a week. Think of the thrill of gratitude that must have stirred the hearts of the wretched toilers in the Bowery, iDd Beekman street and Vesey street, when they heard the joyful in telligence that quarters could be btained for such as they, in the Stewart Home at twenty dollars a week, how they must have blessed the memory of the dead millionaire whose costly mausoleum is rising to beautify Garden City, where cross and crozier, censer and bell shall celebrate his virtues to gene. rations yet unborn. The slave whose manacles have been broken in the South, the hum ble scholar of New England, and the toiling artisan of London rejoice in the hallowed memory of George Peabody, which even royalty stepped down from its golden throne to honor, and whose poan of blessing is heard on earth or in heaven, wherever angels or men repeat the gentle name of Charity. Even the dumb animals, rescued from suffering and sorrow (if the Almighty permits them a higher communion), implore a benediction on the memory of Louis Bonard, whose shining tablet glorifies the grand entrance to the cemetery of Greenwood, but to the memory of Alexander Turney Stewart no beni son ascends, for the poor owe him nothing living or' dead, and the widow's mite, in the golden scale of Justice, will ou.tweigh his hoarded millions when the great ledger is balanced by him who bath pro claimed as the law : "If 1 have not charity, I am nothing." I have heard, as a modification, that the rooms may possibly be placed for poor girls at from six to ten dollars a week. When we con sider that of the fifty thousand working-girls in New York the average wages is not over three dollars per week, we can readily appreciate the generous nature of the benefaction. We trust that the rumor is true. It will not be long at furthest till the lucky heir of the princely dry goods merchant will be called on to balance his own account. It is said that there is a land somewhere where stocks and bonds and houses and gold, and even satins and silks, are weighed in the balance and found wanting ; where one good deed, one charitable impulse, one generousi action would outweigh them all, where immortali ty may crown the righteous beggar and banishment await the mil lionaire. And perhaps the name ol some humble Jew may be discovered on that hotel register, where even the names so distinguished as Hen ry Hilton and Alexander Turney Stewart have never been accorded a room, and then he may realize, if never before, that there is some thing worth more than all liis gold, and all his fame, and all his power, -the potency of which he never knew or felt,-the God-like nature of Charity. "Better be born lucky than rich,' says the trite old adage, which musi be fully realized by Augustus M. Turney, the defaulting cashier ol the Bank of North America. For ten years this sanctimonious rascal had covered up a robbery of one hundred thousand dollars, and by lying and perjury he had escaped detection for all that time. Lasi week a poor wretch was sent tc State's prison for the miserablE larceny of an overcoat ; he was ragged a homeless and hunryr for two days no food had crossed his lips but the foul offal of the ash-tubs and the gutters; in this dire extremity he saw standing open the door to a rich man's man sion, a costly overcoat was just within his reach, and to save him self from perishing he took it. Justice stood appalled at the mag nitade of his offense and we re joice to know that society was avenged and the vagabond got his deserts. Mr. Turney, however, fares better; it was only his inti mate friends whom he robbed, the men who had been the asso ciates of his life, and who had trusted him with their fortunes for over a quarter of a century, and be side he only got a hundred thou-, sand dollars-and he wotld have put it back if he had not lost it gambling; you can see at a glance there is no coniparison between the crimes of these two men, and I am therefore not surprised to learn that he has been bailed out by in fluential friends, his bail being fixed at one tenth of his defalcations and that there is now a pleasing probabilty that he may escape all further inconvenience. I sincerely hope so; I regret to see so worthy a man annoyeq. If there is a va caut presidency of an Insurance or Trust company he may rest assured of my recommendation, and I shall find my reward in the contempla tion of the fact that though our bank vaults may be endangered, at least our overcoats are safe. Our progressive philosophers have been considerably startled during the past week at the revelations of oleomargarine,-the latest chemical substitute for batter. It has been held as the acme of human wisdom, to know which side your bread is buttered on; but now the question arises with our knowing ones, if the bread is buttered at all. To think of anointing your toast with the marrow of a donkey, a horse or a dog is scarcely conducive of that sweet peace of mind which we are assured is only the reward of a well spent life, and beyond that there are vague possibilities of old boots and greasy coats, which make one feel like exclaiming with the psalmist of old ; "Vanity, all is "Vanity !" On the trial in ques tion, one witness swore that a care less- operator in one of the ma chines was suddenly deprived of his hand. So potent was the power of this modern churn, and so effec tive the nature of the chemicals employed, that in twenty minutes from the time of the amputation it was turned out in a first-class article of pure olemargarine worth twelve and a half-cents a pound. Con sidering the nature of the ingre dients, this cannot be considered dear; -but if any new speculator wishes to TRY HIS HAND at it, we would advise him to wait till olemargarine commands a higher price in the market. A general alarm was sent out from the Brooklyn police head quarters for the loss of a child of wealthy parents living in the upper part of the town. For two days and nights the father and mother were in despair, and at last it was discovered that she had been stolen by the son and daughter of a neigh bor,-aged about ten and twelve, that they had cropped the child's 'hair of short, and the three had been begging and sleeping along the docks. An enterprising young man whose income was three dollars and a half a week turns up the proprietor of no less than three wives. His in come would allow each a dollar a week if he kept a half a dollar for himself; but I fear me spring silks will be a distantly prospective lux ury to his three wives, notwith standing the low price of dry goods. I note several failures during the week, and a feeling of insecurity seems to pervade all classes. We miss the usual activity of spring, the only sign of actual progress being in the elevated railroads. We may not regard rapid transit as an accomplished fact, and even our staid old truck-horses look ~no longer with apprehension on the performances of this seven-day wonder. Spring seems to be really upon us. Doors and windows once more ae open_ and onr friend the water ing-cart imperils the polish of our gaiters. The reapers who have been at work in the temperance field report tares more plentiful than grain. The crop of conver sions has been light and the bal ance-sheet of expenses heavy. Not withstanding the moral famine that prevails, it is a satisfaction to know that there is corn in Egypt, and hoping that a good share of it may fall to our lot, Yours truly, BROADBRIM. UNSYMPATHETIC SOULS. They stood up before a window, looking out upon the wintry day. The cheerful fire on the hearth sent its ruddy glow into the room. They were man cnd wife. She said with enthusiasm : "Is it not a grand sight ?" "What ?" answered he. "Why, this glorious time of the year." "Pshaw ! I th->ught you referred to that old gentleman.wbo fell on the side-walk just now. Let's get near the fire; I'm chilly." "Dear"-said she. "Well?" abruptly returned he, poking the glowing embers vig orously. "Don't you think that winter is monarch of the seasons ?" "I", "Let the poets rave about spring, with her violet sandaled feet all wet with dew. Aboutsum mer in her- wheatc. garlands bound. Or autumn stained with juice of purple grape. Do they half compare with icy-crowned winter? But what is your opin ion of this beautiful day" "I think" "This day, when nature, draped in her snowy mantle, presents a perfect portraiture of chastity. See how the sun sports among the drifts, causing them to scintillate like diamionds. Is not this the chosen period of the year?" "I think that-". "Oh, it is -superb! No wonder Shakespeare has said, 'Be thou as pur-e as snow.' Look how the playful wind circles the downy fleece ! Come dear to the win dow." He came reluctantly. She said rapturously: "Now, what do you think of this day?" "I think that it would be a splendid day to track rabbits !" Both were mute for an hour and a half. - FRIEND.---People who have warm friends are healthier and happier than those who have none. A single real friend is a treasure worth more than gold or precious stones. Money cani buy many things good and evil. Ali the wealth of a world could not buy a friend or pay you for the loss of ozee. "I have only wanted one thing. to make me happy," Llazlitt writes, "buf, wanting that have wanted everything." And again, "My heart, shut up in a prison house of this rude clay, has never found, nor will it ever find a heart to speak to." We are the weakest of spendtbrifts if we let one friend drop off through inat tention or let one push away another; or if we hold aloof from one for petty jealousy or heedless slights or roughness. Would you throw away a diamond because it pricked you? One good friend is not to be weighed against the je wels of the earth. WO.MAN THROUGEH AND THROUGH. -I heard a conversation recently between a young lady in society and the representative of a leading society paper. It was at a charity ball; the girl was pretty and ex quisitely dressed. She went up to the young gentleman and said: "No w Mr.-, don't put my name in the paper, nor tell what I had on. I have worn this dress once before, aid it's horribly old. I was going to have a French dress from Worth's, but it didn't get here, so I had to wear this; now mind, don't put my name in the paper, but if you do, send me nib"..--Rn.ton Letter.