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From. the Aldine.
BT JOIL BEKTOX.
Once, spon a golden afternoon,
With radiant faces and hearts in tone,
Two fond lovers, in dreaming mood,
Threaded a rural solitude.
Wholly happy, ;tbey only knew -That
the earth was bright and the sky was blue.
That light and beauty and joy and song
Charmed the way as they passed along.
The air was fragrant with woodland scents
The squirrel frisked on the roadside fence
And horering near them, "Clue, ekte, chinlct"
Queried the curious bobolink.
Pauling and peering with sidelong head,
As saucily questioning all they said;
While the ox-eye danced on its slender stem,
And all glad nature' rejoiced with them.
Over the odorous fields were strown
Wilting winrows of grass new mown,
And rosy billows of clover bloom
Surged in thesunshine and breathed perfume.
Swinging low on a slender limb,
The sparrow sung bit wedding hymn,
And balancing on a blackberry brier,
The bobolink sung with his heart on fire
"Chink! If you with to kiu her, do! '
Do tit do til Ton eoicard, you
Kin her! lit her! TFA will tee!
Only im tkree, we tire, to tint!
Under garlands of drooping Tines,
Tnrongu dim vistas of sweet-breathed pines,
Past wide meadow-fields, lately mowed,
Wandered the indolent country road.
The lovers followed it, listening still,
And, loitering slowly, as lovers will,
Entered a gray-roofed bridge that lay
Dusk and cool, in their pleasant way,
Under its arch a smooth, brown stream,
Silently glided with glint and gleam,
Shaded by graceful elms which spread,
Their verdurous canopy overhead
The stream so narrow, the boughs so wide,
They met and mingled acrsss the tide,
Aldari loved it, and seemed to keep
Patient watch as it lay asleep,
Mirroring clearly the trees and sky.
And the flitting form of the dragon-fly
.Save where the swift-winged swallows played
In and out in the sun and shade,
And darting and circling in merry chase,
Dipped and dimpled its clear, dark fadfeL
Fluttering lightly from brink to brink,''
Tollowed the garrulous bobolink,
Rallying loudly with mirthful din,
rbe pair who lingered unseen within,
And when from the friendly bridge at last
Into the road bevond they passed.
Again beside them the tempter went,
Keeping the thread of his argument
"Kin ker! In Iter! elink a-cee-ee
TU not mention it! Don't mind me!
rii t lentinel can see
All around from llil tall leecn-trec!"
But ah! they noted nor deemed it strange,
In his rollicking chorus a trifling change
"D it! do itr' with might and maia
Warbled the tell-tale "Do it again!"
TIIMSLATED FROM TBK rEIXCH or
Paul, there is something going on here
that .does not please me. 1 would like to
have your advice; send it as soon as pos
sible. On Thursday morning, after finishing
tny letter, I went down to give it to the
messenger, who leaves quite early; then,
as it only wanted a few minutes of the
jre&ktast-hour, 1 walked intothe drawing
room, which was still empty. I was quiet'
Iv looking over a Review by the fireside
when the door was suddenly flung open; I
beard the crushing and rustling of a silk
dress too broad to get easily through an
aperture three feet wide, and I saw the
Little Countess appear, she had spent the
night at the chateau.
If you remember the unfortunate con
versation in which I had become entangled
the previous evening, and which Madame
de Palme had overhead from beginning to
, !1I IT, . 1 . .
ena, you win reauuy unaersiana mat tnia
lady was the last person in the world
with whom it might prove pleasant to find
myself alone that morning.
I rose and I addressed her a deep curt
sey; she replied with a nod, winch, though
slight, was still more than I deserved from
her. The first steps she took in the par
lor after she had seen roe were stamped
with hesitation and a sort of wavering: it
was like the action or a partridge lightly
hit on the wing and somewhat stunned by
the shot Would she go to the piano, to
the window to the right or the left, or op
posite? It was clear tliafshe did not know
herself; but indecision is not the weak point
of her disposition: she soon made up her
mind, and crossing the immense drawing
room with very firm step, she came in the
direction of the chimney, that is, toward
my immediate domain.
Standing in front of my arm-chair with
tny Review in my hand, I was awaiting
the event with an apparent gravity that
concealed but imperfectly, 1 fear, a rath
er powerful inward anxiety. I had indeed
every reason to apprehend an explanation
and a 6cene. In every circumstance-of
this kind, the natural feelings of our heart
and the refinement which education and
the habits of society add to them, the ab
solute freedom of the attack and the nar
row limits allowed to the defence, give to
women an overwhelming superiority qyer
any man who is not a boor or a lover.
In the particular crisis that was threaten
ing me, the stinging consciousness of mv
wrongs, the recollection of the almost in
Bulling form under which mv offense had
manifested itself, united to deprive me of
1 1 , . - . . .
an mougui oi resistance; i lound myself
delivered over, bound hand and foot, to
the frightful wrath of a young and impe
rious wuniau nursling ior vengeance. My
attitude was. therefore, not vcrv brilliant
Madame de Palme stopped within two
steps of me, spread her right hand on the
marble or the mantel, and extended to
wards the blazing hearth the bronzed sli
per wuhin which htr left foot was held
captive. Having accomplished these pre
liminary dispositions, she turned towards
me, and without addressing roe a sin?!
word, she seemed to enjoy my countenance,
which. I repeat was not worth much. I
resolved to sit down again and resume my
reading; bat previously, and by way of
transition, j tuougtit best to say politely
" Wouldn'tyou like to have this Review
"Thank you. sir. I cannot read."
Such was the answer that wns nromnt.
Iy shot off at me in a brief tone of voice.
1 made with my head and my hand
courteous gesture, by which I seemed to
sympathize gently with the infirmity that
was thus revealed to me, after which I eat
down, feeling more easy. I had drawn
my adversary's fire. Honor seemed to me
Nevertheless, after a few moments of
silence, I began again to feel the awk
wardness of my situation. I strove in vain
to become absorbed in my reading; T kept
seeinga multitude of little bronzed slippers
dancing all over the paper. An open
scene would Lave appeared to me decided
ly preferable to this persistent proximity,
to the mute hostility betrayed to my fur
tive glance by Madame de Palme's rest
less foot, the jingle of her rings on the
marble mantel, and the quivering mobili
ty of her nostrils. I therefore unconscious
ly uttered a sigh of relief when the door,
opening suddenly, introduced upon the
stage a new personage, whom I felt justi
fied in considering as an ally. It was a
lady a school-friend, of Lady -A ,
ifhose name is Madame Durraaitre. She
is a widow, and extremely handsome; she
is noted for a lesser degree of folly amid
the wild and worldly ladies of the chateau.
For this reason, and somewhat also on
account of her superior charms, she has
long since conquered the ill-will of Mad
ame de Palme, who, in allusion to her
rival's somber style of dress, to the lan
guid character of her beauty, and to the
somewhat elegiac turn of her conversation,
is pleased to designate her, among the
young people, as the Malabar Widow.
Madame Durmaitre is positively Jacking
wit: but she is intelligent, .tolerably
well-read, and much inclined to reverie.
She prides herself upon a certain talent
for conversation. Seeing that I am ray
self destitute of any other social accom
plishment, e lie lias got into her bead that
must possess that particular one, ana
she has undertaken to make sure of it
The result has been, between us, a rather
assiduous and almost cordial intercourse;
tor if I have been unabla to fully respond
to all her hones, I listen at least with re
ligious attention to the little melancholy
pathos which is habitual with her. X ap
pear to understand her, and she seems
grateul for it The truth is that I never
tire hearing her voice, which is musical;
gazing at her features, which are exquis
itely regular; and admiring her large black
eyes, over which a fringe of heavy eye
lashes casts a mystic shadow. However,
do n6t feel uneasy; I have decided that the
time lor being loved, and consequently lor
loving, is over for me; now, love is a mal
ady which no one need (ear, if he sincere
ly strive to repress its first symptoms.
Madame de Palme had turned around
at the sound of the opening door; when
she recognized Madame Dunnaitre.a fierce
i "lit gleamsu in her blue eyes; chance had
sent her a victim. She allowed the beau
tiful widow to advance a few paces towards
us, with the slow and mournful step which
is characteristic ot her manner, and burst-
"Jiravo: she exclaimed with emphasis.
'the march to the scaffold, the victim
dragged to the altar! Ipliigcnia; or, rath
Pleuranto apres son char vons voulez qui'on
"Who is it that has written this verse?
am so ignorant! Ahl it's your friend.
M.de Lamertioe, J believe, lie was think
ing of you, my dear.1'
"Ahl vou quote poetry now, dear mad-
ame?" said Madame Durmaitre, who 'is
not very skilled at retort.
' Wny not, dear madame Have you a
monopoly ot itr Jrleurante apres son
char?1 I have heard Rachel say that
11 y the way, it is not by .Lamartine, it s by
Boileau. I must tell you, dear Nathalie,
that 1 intend to ask you to give me lessons
in serious and virtuous conversation It's
60 amusing! And to begin at once, come!
tell me whom you prefer, Lamartine or
But, Bathilde, there is no connection."
replied Madame Durmaitre, rather sensi
bly and much too candidly.
Ahl rejoined .Madame del'alme. And
suddenly pointing me out with her linger:
"You perhaps prefer this gentleman, who
also writes poetry."
"No, madame, I said, "it is a mistake;
"Ah! I thought you did. I bear your
Madame JJurmaitre, who doubtless
owes the unalterable ser?nitv of her soul
to the consciousness ot her supreme beau
ty, had been content with smilinz with dis
dainful nonchalance. She dropped into
the arm-chair, which I had given up to
What gloomy weatherl" she said to
me; "really this autumnal sky weighs up
on the soul. I was looking' out of the
window: all the trees look like cypress
trees, and the whole country looks like a
graveyard. It would really" seem that"
"No, ah! no I hez of yon, Nath
alie," interrupted Madame de Palme, "say
no more. I hat s enough tun before break
fast You'll make yourself 6ick."
"Well, now! ray dear Bathilde. you must
have slept very badly last night," said the
"I, my dear? Ah! do not say that I
had celestial, ecstatic dreams, ecstacies.
you know -My soul held converse
with other souls like vour own
soul Angels smiled at me throucb
the foliage of the cypress trees
.Madame imrmaitrc blushed slightly.
shrugged her shoulders, and took up the
Review I had laid on the mantel-piece.
"By the by, Nathalie," resumed Mad
ame de Palme, "Jo yon know who we are
going to have at dinner to-day, in the way
The good-natured Nathalie mentioned
Monsieur de Breuilly, two or three other
married centlenien. and the parish Driest
"ihen i am going away after break
fast," said the Little Countess, looking at
"That's very polite for us," murmured
"You know,"- replied the other with
imperturbable assurance, "that I only like
men s society, and there are three classes
of individuals whom I do not consider as
belonging, to that eex. or to any other.
those are -married men. priests and sa
As she concluded this sentence. Mad
ame de Palme cast another glance at me.
oi which, nowever. l lia-l no need to un
derstand that she included me in her clas
sification of neutralNnecies: t wnnMnnlv
be among the individuals of the third cat
egory, though I have no claim to it what
ever; but it does not require much to be
considered a savant by the ladies.
Almost at this very moment, the break-
lasi bell rang in the courtyard of thecha
teau, and she added:
"Ahl there'e breakfast, thank heavpnl
for I am devilish hungry, with all respect
for pure spirits and troubled souls.
She then ran and skipped to the other
enu oi me parjor to greet Moneiear de Ma
- 1 1 1 ... . , I , . ., s . .... - -" , -
- r , l- r
COME, THE HERALD OF A NOISY WORLD, THE NEWS QF ALL NATIONS LUMBERING AT MY BACK"' ' '
louet, who was coming in followed by. his
guests. As to myself, I promptly offered
my arm to Madame Durmaitre, and I en
deavored, by, earnest attentions, to make
her forget the storm which the mere shade
of sympathy she manifests towards me
had just attracted upon her.
As you may have remarked,' the Little
Countess had exhibited in the course of
this little scene, as always, an unmeasured
and unseemly freedom of language- but she
i i ,- - l - r j ! -i J
naa nispiayea greater resources oi niinu
than I had supposed her capable of doing,
and though they had been directed against
me, X could not help feeling.tbanklul to
her to ench an extent uo i .hate tools,
whom I have ever found in this world
more pernicious than wicked people. The
result was, that to the feeJing,of repulsion
and.contempt with which the extravagant
ly worldly woman inspired me, there was
henceforth mingled a shade oi gentle pity
for the badly-brought-up child and misdi
Women are prompt in catching delicate
shades of feeling, and the latter did not
escape Madame de Palme. She became
vazuely conscious of a slightly favorable
change in my opinion of her, and it was
not long beiore she even began to exag
gerate its extent and to attempt abusing
it. For two days she pursued me with
her keenest shafts, which I bore good na
turedly. and to, which I even responded
with some little attentions, for I had still
at heart the rude expressions of my dia
logue with Madame de Malouet, and 1 did
not think I had sufficiently expiated them
by the feeble martyrdom I had undergone
the following day in common with the
This was enough to cause Madame Ba
thilde de Palme to imagine that she could
treat me as a conquered province, and add
Ulvfses to his companions: Day before
yesterday she had tested several times du
ring the day the extent of her growing
power over my heart and my will, by ask
ing two or three little services of me; sera
vices to the honor of which every one
here eagerly aspires, and which, for my
part, I discharged politely but with evident
cool u ess."
In spite of the extreme reserve with
which I had lent myself to these trials du
ring the day, Madame de Palme believed
in her complete success; she hastily judged
that she now bad but to rivet my chain
and bind me to her triumph, a feeble ad
dition of glory assuredly, but which had,
after all, the merit, in her eyes of having
been contested. During the evening, as I
was leaving the whist-table, she advanced
towards me deliberately, and requested me
to do her the honor of figuring with her
in the character dance called the cotillon.
I excused myself laughingly on my com
plete inexperience; she insisted, declaring
that I had evident dispositions for danc
ing, and reminding me of the agility I had
displayed in the forest. Finally, and to
close the debate,1 she led me away famil
iarly by tile arm, adding that she was not
in the habit of being relused.
"Nor I, madame," I said, "in that of
making a 6how of myself.
"What! not even to gratify- me?''
"Not even for that, madame, and were
it the only means of succeeding in doing
I bowed to her smilingly after these
words, which I had emphasized in such a
positive manner that she insisted no more,
She left my arm abruptly and returned to
join a group of dancers who were observ
ing us at a distance with manliest interest.
bhe was received bv them with whispers
and smiles, to which she replied with a
few rapid sentences, among which I only
caught the word rcvanihe. I paid no fur
ther attention to the matter for the time
lieitiir. and my soul went to converse amid
the cloud with the soul of Madame Dur
The next day a grand hunt was to take
place in the forest I had arranged to
take no share in it, wishing to make the
best of a whole day of solitude to push
i I , , . rt
orwara my uopeiess unueriaKing. io-
wards noon, the hunters met in the court'
yard of the chateau, which rang again for
tome fifteen miuutes with -the loud blast
of the trumpets, the stamping of horses,
and the yelping of the pack. Then the
tumultuous crowd disappeared down the
avenue, the noise gradually died away,
and 1 remained master of myself and of
my mind, in the midst of a silence the
more grateful that it is the more rare in
I had been enjoying my solitude for a
few minutes, and 1 was turning over the
folio pages of the iXeustra put, while smil
ing at my own happiness, when I fancied
I heard the gallop of a horse in the ave
nue, and noon after on the paven.ent of
the court bome hunter behind time, I
thought, and, taking up my pen,. I began
extracting from the enormous volume the
passage relating to the General Chapters
of the Benedictines; but a new and more
serious interruption came to nfllict me;
some one was knocking at the library
door. I shook my head with ill-humor.
and I said, "Come in!" in the same tone
in which I might have said "Go away!"
Some one did come in. I bad seen, a few
moments before, Madame de Palme tak
ing her flight, feathers and all, at the head
of the cavalcade, and I was not a little
surprised to lind her again within two
steps of me as soon as the door was open,
Her head was bare, and her hair was
tucked up behind in an odd manner; she
held her whip in one hand, and with the
other lifted up the long trail of her riding
habit i he excitement ot the rapid ride
she had just had seenied further to inten
sify the expression of audacity which is
habitual to her look anil to her features.
And yet her voice was less assured than
usual when she exclaimed as she came in:
"Ah! I beg your pardon! I thought
Madame de Malouet was here."
I had risen at once to my full height.
"No. madame, 6he is not here."
"Ah! excus me. Do you know where
"I do not, madame; but I can go and
ascertain, il you wish.
"llianKa, tnanksi ill lind her easy
enough. The fact is, I met with a little
"Oh, not much! a trailing limb tore the
baud oil my hat, and my leathers droop
"Your blue feathers, madame?"
"Yes, my blue feathers. In short, I
have returned to the chateau to have m;
hat-band sewed on again. You are com
fortable there to work?"
"Perfectly 60, madame. I could not
"Are you very busy just now?"
"Well, yes, madame, rather fcusy.1'
''Ahl I am sorryl
"Why so' ,
"Because, I had no idea I thought
of asking you to accompany me to the
forest The gentlemen ' will - be"1 nearly
there when I am ready to start again
and lean not very well go. on-alone so
While lisping this somewhat confused
explanatidn', the Little Countess had an
expression at once sly and embarrassed,
which greatly fortified the sentiment -of
distrust which the awkwardncsa of her
entrance had excited in my mind.
"Madame," I said, "you really distress
me." .1 shall regret all my' life to have
missed the delightful occasion yon are
kind enough to offer me: but it is indis
pensable that to-morrow's mail shall car-'
ry oil this report, which the- minister ia
expecting with extreme impotence!''
"You are afraid to lose youA 'situa
tion?" "I have none to lose, madame."
"Well, then, let the minister wait, for
my sake;' it will flatter me."
"I hat is impossible, madame.
She assumed a very .dry tone:
"But, that is really strange! Whatl
you ore not more anxious to be agreeable
to mel" .
"Madame," I replied rather dryly, in re
turn, "I should be extremely anxious to
be agreeable to you. but I. am not at all
anxious to help'you win your wager."
I threw out that insinuation somewhat
at random, resting it upon some recollec
tions ana some light indications which
you may have been able to collect here
and there in' the course of my narrative.
Nevertheless, I had hit. exactly. Madame
de Palme blushed up to her ears, etara-
ered out two or three words which I fail
ed to catch, and left the room, having
lost all countenance.
This precipitate retreat left me Quite
confused myself. I can not admit that
we should carry out our respect for the
weakersex so far as to lend ourselves to
every caprice and every enterprise it may
please a woman to direct against our
peace or our dignity; but oar right of le
gitimate self-defense .in such encounters is
circumscribed within narrow and delicate
limits, which I feared I had overstepped.
It was enough that Madame de Palme
should bealone-in the world, and without
any other protection but her, sex, to. make
it eeeni exireaieiy painiui to roe to nave
thoughtlessly yielded to the irritation.
just though it might be, which her im-
permient msisiance naa aroused, as 1
was endeavoring to establish between our
respective wrongs a balance that might
serve to quiet ray scruples, there was an
other knock at the library doer. This
time,- u was Aladame de Malouet who
came in bbe was much moved.
"Do tell me what has taken Dlace."
I gave her full and minute particulars
of my interview with Madame de Palme.
and, while expressing much regret at my
vivacity, I added that the lads conduct
towards me was inexplicably;, tijat she,
n an uiKen me twice witnin twenty-lour
hours for the subject of her wagers, and
that it was a great deal too much atten
tion, on her part, for a man who asked
her, as a sole favor, not- to trouble her
self about-him anymore than he troubled
himself about her.
'Mon Dieul" said the kind marquise.
"I have no fault to find with you. 1 have
been able to appreciate with my own eves.
during the past few days, your conduct
and her own. liut all this is very disa
greeable. That child ihas just thrown
herself in my arms weeping terribly. She
says you liaye treated her like a crea
I protested: "I have repeated to you.
word for word, madame, what passed be
"It was not your words, it was your
expression, your tone. Monsieur George
let me speak frankly with, you: are you
alraid ot tailing in love with Alaname de
"Not in the least, madame."
"Are you anxious that she should fall
in love with you?"
"Neither, -I assure you.
"Well, then, do me a favor: lay aside
your pride lor one day, and escort Mad
ame de ralme to the hunt.
"The advice may seem singular to vou.
But rest assured I do not offer it without
mature reflection. The repulsion which
you manliest lor Madame de l'alme is
precisely what attracts towards you that
imperious and spoilt child. She becomes
irritated and obstinate in presence of a re
sistance to which she has not been accus
tomed. Be meek enough to yield to
her fancy. Do that for me."
"Seriously madame. vou think? ''
"I think," interrupted the old lady
laughingly, "with due respect to vou. that
you win lose your principal merit in her
eyes as soon as she sees you submit to
her yoke like an the rest
"Really, madame, you present things
to me under an entirely new aspect. It
never occurred to me to attribute Madame
de Palme's mischievous pranks to a sent!
ment of which 1 might have reason to be
"And you have been quite right," she
resumed sharply: "there is, thank heaven!
nothing of the kind as yet; but It might
have come, and you are' too fair a man to
desire it, with the views which I know
you to entertain."
"1 trust myself wholly to vour direc
tion, madame: I am going to fetch my hat
and gloves. The question is now," how
Madame de Palme will receive my some
what tardy civility."
"She will receive it very well, if you of-
ter it with good grace.
"As to that, madame, I shall offer it
with all the good grace lean command.
On this assurance, Madame de Malouet
held out her hand, which I kissed with
profound respect, but rather slim grati
When I entered the parlor; booted and
spurred. Madame de Palme was alone
there: deeply seated in an armchair; bu
ried under her skirts, she was putting the
finishing touches to her hat She raised
her eyes, which were very red.
"Madame," I said, "l am so sincerely
sorry to have offended you. that I venture
to ask your pardon for an unpardonable
piece of rudeness. I have come to hold
myself at your disposition: if you decline
my escort, you will not only be inflicting
upon me an amply deserved mortification,
but you will leave me still more unhappy
than 1 have been guilty, and that
is Kiying a great deal."
Madame de Palme, taking info consid
MARCH 24, 1875.
eration, the emotion :of my voice rather
than my diplomatic, pathos, lifted her
eyes upon ine again, opened her lips.
slightly, said nothing, and nnally ad
vanced a somewhat tremulous h'and,
winch 1" hastened to receive within, .ray
own. She availed herself at once of this
point ,d! appui to get on her- feet, and
bounded lightly to the floor. A few min
utes lateri We were both on horseback and
leaving the court-yard of the chateau.
We reached the extremity, of the ave
nue without having exchanged a single.
word. I felt deeply, as 'you 'may believe,'
how much this silence, on my part at
least, was awkard, stiff, and ridiculous;
uut, as it oiien Happens in circumstances
which demand most imperatively the re-
eources of eloquence, I Was stricken with
an invincible sterility of mind. I tried in
vain to And some plausible subject of
conversation, and the more annoyed I felt
at'finding none, the less capable I became
of doing so.
"Suppose we have a run?" said Mad
ame de Palme suddenly.
".Let us have a rum 1 said; and we
started at a gallop, to my infinite relief.
Nevertheless, it became absolutely
necessary to check our speed at the en
trance of the tortuous path that leads
down intothe valley of the ruins. The
care required to guide our horses du
ring that difficult descent served for a few
minutes longer as a pretext for my silence,
but, on reaching the the level ground of
the valley, I saw that I must speak at any
cost, and I was about to begin with some
commonplace remark, when Madame de
Palme was kind enough to anticipate me:
'They say, sir, that, you are very wit
"You may judge for yourself, madame,"
I replied laughingly.
"leather dilhcult so far. even il 1 were
able, which you are very far from con
ceding. Oh! you need not deny it! It's
perfectly useless, alter the conversation
which chance made me overhear the other
"I have made so many mistakes con
cerning you, madame. you must realize
the pitiful confusion I feel towards you."
"And in. what respect have you been
"In all respects, I believe.
-'You are not quite sure? Admit
at least that I am a good-natured wo
"OhI with all my heart madame!" "
"You said that well I' believe
you think it You are not bad either, I
believe, and yet you have been cruelly so
"That is truer'
"What sort of a man are you then,
pray?" resumed the Little Countess in
her brief and abrupt .tone "I cannot un
derstand it very well. By what right.
on what ground do you despise me? Sup
pose I am really guilty oi an the intrigues
which are attributed, to me; what is that
to you? Are vou a saint yourself? a re
former? Have you never gone 'astray?
Are you any more virtuous than other
men of your age and condition? What
right have you todeapiB.ms? Explain!''
Were ! guilty ot the sentiments which
you attribute to me, madame, 1 should
answer, that never has any one, either in
vour eex or mine, taken his own morality
as the rule of his opinion and his judg
ment upon otners: we live as we can, ana
we judge as we should; it is more partic
ularly a very frequent inconsistency
among men, to frown down unmercifully
the very weakness which they encourage
and of which they derive the benefit For
my part. I hold severely aloof from a de
gree of austerity, as ridiculous in a man
as uncharitable in a christian. And as
to that unfortunate conversation which a
deplorable chance caused you to hear.
and iu which my expressions, as it always
happens, went lar .beyond the measure of
my thought it is an otlense which I can
never obliterate, 1 know; but I shall at
least explain frankly. Every one has his
own tastes and his way (.understanding
life in this world; we differ so much, you
and I. in that respect that I conceived
for .you and you conceived for me, at first
sight, an extreme antipathy. This dispo
sition, which, on one side at least, mad
ame, was to be singularly modified on
better acquaintance, prompted me to some
thoughtless manifestations of ill-humor
and vivacity of controversy. You have
doubtless suffered madame, from the vio
lence of my language, but much less I
beg you to believe, than I was to suffer
from it myself, after I had recognized its
profound and irreparable injustice.
This apology, more sincere than lucid,
drew forth no answer. We were at this
moment just coming out of the old Abbey
church, and we found ourselves unexpect
edly mingled to the last ranks of the cav
alcade. Uur appearance caused a sup
pressed murmur to run through the dense
crowd of hunters. Madame de Palme
was at once surrounded by a merry throng
that seemed to address congratulations to
her on her winning of her wager. She
received them with an inditferent and
pouting look, whipped up her horse, and
made her way to the front before entering
In the meantime, Monsieur de Malouet
had received me with still nfore cordial
affability than usual, and without making
any direct allusion to the incident which
had brought me against my will to this
cynegetic feast, he omitted no attention
that could make me forget its trifling an
noyance. Soon after the hounds started a
deer, and 1 followed them with keen rel
ish, bejng by no means indifferent to that
manly pastime, though it is not sufficient
for my happiness in this world:
The pack was thrown off the scent two
or three times, and the deer had the best
of the day. At about four o'clock we
started on our way back to the chat teau.
When we. crossed the valley on our re
turn, the twilight was already marked
out more clearly upon the sky the outline
of the trees and the crest of the hills; &
melancholly shade was falling on the
meadows, whilst a thicker mist indicated
the sinuous course of the little river. As
I remained absorbed in the contemplation
of that scene which reminds me of better
days, I discovered suddenly Madame de
Palme at my side.
"I believe, after due reflection' she said
with her usual abruptness, "that you
senrn my inorance and my lack of wit
much more than my supposed want of
morality. You think less of virtue than
you do of intelligence. Is that it?"
"Certainly not," I said laughingly;
"that isn't it; that isn't it at all. In the
first place, the word scorn must be sup
pressed, having nothing to do here; then,
I don't mean to believe in your ignorance,
and not at all in your lack of wit Fi
nally I see nothing above virtue, when I
see it at all, which ia not often; Further
more, madame.! feel confused at the im-,
portance Voii attach to my opinion. The
secret of my1 likes and: dislikes is nuite
simple; I have, aa 1 was. telling you, the
most rengious.respect Jor virtue, but all
mineis limited to a deep-seated sentiment
of a few essential duties which; I prac
tise as, best-1 canirl, could notrtherefore
ask' any1 moreJ of others: As to 'the intel
lect, 1 confess. that- value it greatly, and
life seems too serious a matter to be treat
ed on the'footintrof a perpetual ball, from
the cradle to the grave. Moreover, the
productions of the mind, works of art in
particular, are the object of my most pas
sionate preoccupations, and it is natural
that I should like being able to speak of
what interests us. That salt
"Is it absolutely necessary to be forev
er talking of the' ecstacies of the-eon), of
cemeteries, and the Venus of Milo, in or
der to obtain in your opinion the rank of
a serious woman and a woman of taste
But, after all, you are right; I never think:
if I did for one single minute, it seems to
me that I should go mad, that my bead
would split And what do you think
about yourself, in that old convent cell?"
"X thought ajrreat deal about you. I
replied gayly, "on the evening"of that day
when you hunted me down so unmerci
fully, and I abused you most heartily."
"I can understand that" She began
laughing, looking all around her, and
added: "What a lovely valley I what a de
lightful evening! And now, are you still
disposed to abuse me?"
"Isow, 1 wish from the bottom of my
soul I were able to do something foryour
"And I for yours, she said quietly.
I bowed for an answer, and -a brief
"If I were a man,' suddenly said Mad
ame de Palme, "I believe I would like to
be a hermit,"
"OhI what a'pity!"
"The idea does not surprise you!''
"Nothing from me would surprise you,
suppose. You believe me-capable of
anything of anything, perhaps even .of
being fond of you?"
"Why not? Greater wonders' have
been seen! Am I not fond of you myself
at the present moment? 1 bat's a line ex
ample to follow!"'
"You must give me ttme to think
"As long as it may be necessary. We
are friends in the meantime?" -
'If we are friends, there is nothing fur
ther to expect," 1 said, holding 'cut my
hand frankly to the Little Counters. I
felt that she was Drssine it lizhtly. and
conversation ended there. We had reach
ed the top of the hills; it was now quite
dark, and we galloped all! the reit ot the
way to the chateau..
As I was coming down from my room
foe dinner I met Madame de Malouet in
"Well, she said laughingly, "did you
ooniorm to the prescription!
"Excellent! She is satisfied now, and
so are you.
"Ameni 1 said.
The evening passed off without further
incident. I took pleasure in doing for
Madame de Palme some trifling services
which she was no longer asking. She left
the dance two or three times to come and
address me some good-natured jests that
passed through her brain, and when 1
withdrew, she followed me to the door;
with a smiling and cordial look.
1-aslc you now, tnend .Paul, to silt tber
precise meaning and the moral of this
tale. You may perhaps judge, and
hope you will, that a chimerical imagina
tion can alone ruagoity Into an event. this
vulgar episode of society life: but if you
see in tile facts I have just told you the
least germ of danger, the slightest 'ele
ment ola serious complication, tell mesor
I'll break the engagements that were to
detain me here some ten or twelve days,
and I'll leave at once.
I do not love Madame de Palme; I can
not and will not love her. My opinion of
her has evidently changed greatly;! look
upon her henceforth as a good little Wo
man, tier bead is light and win always
be so, her behavior is better than she gets
credit for, though perhaps- not as good aa
she represents it herself: finally, her heart
has both weight and value. I feel some
friendship for her, an affection that has
something fraternal in it; but between
her and roe.nothing further is at all likely;
the expanse of the heavens divide us. The
idea of being her husband makes me
burst out laughing, and through a senti
ment which you win readily appreciate,
the thought of being her lover inspires me
with horror. As to her, X believe she
may feel the shadow of a caprice, but not
even the dawn of passion. Here I am
now upon her etagere with the rest of the
figure-heads, and I think, as Madame de
Malouet. that mav be enough to satislv
her. However, what do you thing of it
Continued next week.
Although he has abandoned the plat
form for good, "Mark' Twain" consented
to lecture in Hartford the other night' for
the benefit of the poor. Xbe tickets were
placed at one dollar each. He sent
dollar to the committee in payment for a
ticket for bitnselt, wntiog to them.
am aware that I could get in for nothing
and still be acting in a measure honora
bly; but when I run my lecture over in
my mind and realize what a very bonanza
of priceless information it is, X hnd X can
not conscientiously accept of a free
New spring water-proof for ladies are
madp alter tbe "Ulster pattern lor gen
tlemen, which is a long, straight sack
belted in from side to side upon the back
and finished with a shawl shaped hook
and pockets, including neat little pocket
in the cuff of the sleeve for car fare,
stamps, change, and the like.
"Why," said a country clesgyman to
one of his flock, "do yon always sleep in
your pew when I am in the pulpit, while
you are all attention to every stranger I
invite?" "Because, air," was the reply,
"when you preach, I'm sure all's right;
but I cannot trust a stranger -without
keeping a good lookout"
"George, dear, don't you think it rath
er extravagant of you to eat butter with
that delicious jam? ' "No, love, economi
cal ! Same piece of bread does for bothl"
Tiri , .in .ifiviir'1 . mies't
One square, "no insert i)n...r...u. , J Off
Ona';quret ctcb additional irncrtlnffc. f ill
One" square, one-yAirt- ...:. tjt 10 03
Une-touTtn column per je-tr.. 3H.0U
One-third column, tin vear,..u-.....,., JO 0(7
One hulfcolijroo, yet ya'iSf $1) Oft
One column, one jtr.i,tlt).j.t,t., 1Q0 09
For shorter lbnslttrATrtH.nate'rftte
OnalnchXtipift etfUiltufe? aiqair, 7T
The matter of yearly adtrrtments euancrcf
quarterly free of charger. For fnrtherparttrn
lari,niu!iriis fli ,G? ITYJJs
Jo. P. BvzttftZutCo-, Publishers,
i nn r zrr irr:
At the Democraric6drnyrhyentiin,
held at Owensboro'On tbe Xtli init. Gen
eral Williams' friends mustered in force,
and, asTn "IKe BWrborT 'Cd"mtty Conven'
tlon, ruled the pfoceedrngTvvilfr'ar'iigh .
hand, refusing id' aTfow' afny onef exposed
to their favorite-a-- voice in, tbeamertHTg.
The consequence? waathnt someone hun
dred and twenty gentlemen-1-representing
Ibe decency -and respectab;iirtyef.tbe
Democratic party in that- countjf-j-jfjlthi
drew and organized a-teparateeonrentioQ,
and proceeded" td appoint tiereg'siteV&d the
State convention. It also appointed fa
committee, consisting of several -of Jy
first citizens.ofQavies3 cqunjyto.djafta
paper giving tatheDemocracy of the
State the reasons lor thek action. gTh a
following is their , Jit
MEMORIAL TO DEMOCRATS:
The undersigned, a committee appoint'
ed by a Democratic. Contention, held jn
the county court room at Uwensboro, on
Monday, the 8th ol 'MarcbJ37.5J(o lay
before the Democrats of Daviess countr
and of the State the reasons wbiclrinfln-.
enced the organization of thia eonvesuan
dnd its action after organizing.-state.that-in
the. meetingflrst oraanzed, called' to
get her by the Chairman of the JCqauty
Committee, it was apparent that the
friends of General John B. Wiiiiarss had
met not for the, purpose of consul ting -the
wishes of the Democrats of Daviess conn"
ty, or' deliberating In the interest oPUie
Dartv. but by a preconcerted echeme.:in
the per8onaliater,ej8of General Williams
to organize ana -coauuci. tae- gouteiuioii
for his exclusive benefit or if thls'could
not be not done to create stich confusion
as to make any intelligent action 'ioapoe-
Ih-nersuance of this programme vDr.
Todd was nominated permanent chairman
by Mr. Owen.- Dr8tewart was nomina-
by Mr. xxawes. in: loaa s declared
elected. A .count of the vote between him
self and Dr. Stewart was demanfietrbj
Mr. Hawesybnt w&a refused' by the abasr-
mangarrd again refused by UrXodd alter
he had been thrust into the chair.4 'Secretaries"-
prearranged were tlennseleeted.
and the-meeting wasHhen declared organ"
lzed. .- 3.1
Mr.'Elliathen, having bvntlpcaUd ,in.
front of the Chairman for tb'e'purpose,1 df-'-fered
a resolution that the'deferatecifaat
yet appointed) be instructed- tojjotAjijr-
xcncrai iricuumj, iguutmg ccjjr vhici yi-
ficer (o'be nominated.' n r i to ,
Judge Little moved aa a subst(tBM ufat
the delegates benrstrncted to vote for
Hon. G. W. Williiras,ofsrfie4ftBsttnty..
Mr. Ellis raised the point of order, that-
Judge Little's substitute was- not in 'order,,
and that the only" question 'befati1 fife
convention .was tholnstructiou cfbc GeCar-
Home gentlemen' attempted to
this Question of order andother question.
but their voices werg repeatedly drowned'
by the 'constant shouts! and tcmfosTon of
General Williams'- friends so that it may
be truthfully said that any discussion was
denied to all except the friends Of tleb
eral Williama4-fhe Chair see niipglyuJitig
on all questions accQrdjng to -the ,uggea-
tionsof his friends. x ' " '8
The Question rwas- then. forsedoupon.
those who had met-for the purpose of con--sulting
th'e interests of the Dejneftatic
pauy.anu pruuiwing ua gri;a j-im;i$ieor
whether they shpuld.sil fts dnmb'speetaV
tors of the personal' sch'tmes rjf Geaeral
Williams andVbis irienus .wnicniwereai--lempted
.to, be ,carried putpnder tfiejcon--fusion
created'by them'forthe prirrwsef'eV
a fair and ration! manner consult the
permanent interests of tbe. party .rerd
fess of tbe wishes.of individual aspiraatsv
The convention by whom we, were'ap--pointed
chose the latter. fl -
And we submit to putj: tarougaoat
the State, whether candidates, for, .the. of
fices orGovernor may properly atterld and?
manipulate-the different CWrnty'CoaTei--tions,
etir,np bitterness discord .and con
fusion, in order to .secure" tneir pe'rabnat
ends, and whether in so doingtaay, are
to be accepted as the champions' or the:
party and the gaideaof its uselalneasv ot
JOHN Q A? STUABTya
One day a little son of a well-known1
bank-officer in WalL .street. New YorS,
lost his purse while coming.from, Central
Park, and a stranger, seeing; mr aiscom- .
fort, paid his railroad fare; three" ceutk.
The boy, thanking him. saidiIfjoji
win ten me your name, sir, j. win UTiug i
to you to-morrow." ' - " M' J;,
"O, no," said, the: jjenthjiaaar, "BtveJr
mind about it"
The boy. persisted, Baying- his -father
never allowed him to run in debt. (ilJ
"1 will not give-you-my name," replied
the gentleman, "but I liTe-.at.Nof-J
on .street" Tbe. next morningahe'
door-bell Vang'al the house, and our Htf
tle hero told the amuaedserva"nl-naakl
his errand. . - - -JKW
"Which of the gentlemen ia-liT eai
she; "there are several in the aUy.ftoo
The boy twisted on his heel,,aad,a.Rer
a moment's thought ertid, "Have jou'a
photograph book in this bouser-1
She brought it and after a moment'
thought, he saidpo'intipg to one"That'a
mv man. Please zive him three.eents.
and tell him the boy who borrowed" it in
:rday left it to pay his debt.
It is reported ihat a man. went.bome
about three o'clock he other m'orninjr,
and using' his umbrella fbr'a:billiafdcue,
smote his sleeping wifej-id the phorfctribf,
crying: 'Pooll andsank.jpton slumber.
He has Bince explained t'd ltS'wilenhnt
women can have no idea how the cares fr
business will sometimes affect' n 'man's
brain. , rW
"Is there a gentleman, in" your. -club
with one eye named Walker?'' eaid an
American "to a member ortheavage
Club, in London. rl don't knfiw;lT
sponded the Englishman, "what was tbe
name of tbe other eje:
i . ..
"Biddy," paid, a ladr, "itepovfr,rid'
see how old Mrs Jon is thia imirning'
In a few minifies1 Biddyf5trirneU,!wlfli
the information that MrrJonejw
day's o!d"th'at morning ' ,
!-(.! -, -'! ."I