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MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC.
THE SEW n.ATS SY.TT SEASON?TTTK MKT.O-PRAMA i HEAD? orKRATlC NOTES?MRS. SKOriN AGAIN ?U BELLE RlSSg?TilE WIDOW, ETC. ? The season Is ending in driblets. On the 18th (Thursday) Minnie Frye appears at the National. ? "The Widow." so successfully performed here by the Hess company, w as produced Monday night at the New York Standard, with Mrs. Zelda Keguin (Wallace) in tlie title role, and Castle as the tenor. The sinking was good, but the opera was not liked. ? Miss Alice Hosmer is at home in Washing too, the Harrisons, with whom she has been Bucc?n*sfully engaged since November last, having closed their h?>umiii in Boston. The Boston papers speak very highly of her abilities, among which, the Boston f?'ioV says: "Alice Hosmer has tine musical and histrionic abilities. Her oice is strong and pure, nnd she is a very pleas- i lag actress, scoring a complete success here." ? Miss Annie l?ouise Cary has written the management of the Cleveland vocal festival, to occur the coining week, that she expects to be able to till her engagement there. ? Joseph Bradford ha.- dramatized Mallock's "Roinam-e of the Nineteenth Century." but it is . thought doubtful if anybody in this country can play the part of Cynthia Waiters, unless Clara Morris takes it. ? The news comes all tSie way from Paris that Edwin Booth will ojhjo lus London engagement at the Adelphi July 15. ? '"Esmeralda" ha.l its 300th performance at the New York Madison .Square this week, and the usual souvenir was given. ? They have had a meeting in London to organise an actors" fund. The lord mayor presided. and Irving. Boucicauit. Toole aud other actors made speeches. ? John T. Raymond will have a new comedy ' next year, which Brooks A Dickson have fought for him in Kucope. He says lie has made $40,000 thus far this season. ? Rossi's business was so small in San Francisco after the first night that lie threw up his engagement in disgust, lie h:is deserved a better reception in America. ? "Odette" has been produced at the London Haymarket with Modjeska in the chief part, but the piece was hissed and Modjeska was unequal to the affecting last scene. ? Charles R. Thome, jr.. has finally left the Union Square Theater. New York, for good, and Will not act with the com].any in Boston. He says-he does not intend to act a<rain for a long i time, as he ami his wife have an assured income ! of $1?,000 a year, and they want to enjoy themselves. ? Booth's theater at New York has reverted to the Ames estate, because the new buyers failed to pay the first installment of $125,000. The house has therefore been leased to John Stetson for another year, and longer it it Is not old. at *2.~i.i>00 a year. ? We shall certainly be swamped with opera next Tear. Word now comes from Europe that ; Pauline Lucca has been engaged for a tour in j this country uext season. Patti, Nilsson, and : Lucca, with all the lesser lights, will surely give i us as much opera as we can survive. ? Ma^ie Mitchell is just now terminating the ; most successful season she has known for nine 1 years. Her profits for the season have been ; Close on to $40,000. ?"flThe N. Y. Music refers to Mr. James Mor- i rissey as that ethereal combination of lather and taffy who has just come six hundred miles to ; assure you how much he likes the paper, and what a pity it is that you allow those disagreeable little paragraphs to occasionally apj?ear about him. as he always was such a good friend of yours. ?Mile. Aim^e is to return to this country as n English sinking oitera boufTe artist next : season, and with a strong company to support j her. There will be some curiosity to hear a ! translation of some of her former brilliant interpolated points in the dialogues of her reportoire. ?It Is reported that Manager J. M. Hill has Secured Adelaide I>etchou,and will star her next ! season. Miss Petchon is an Ohio girl (from Cleveland"*, and is one of the beauties of the stage. She was for a couple of seasons with | Wallack. and lately made a very successful stellar debut in Brooklyn. ? Eos?? Stella is an actress performing In The Colonel." Her husband is Harry Froom. agent for the company. In Boston she gave a ! reception to a number of Harvard students at ' her hotel. The husband found the party assem- ; bled on arriving in town, and his presence was , objected to by the guests, who had supposed Rose to be unmarried. He thereupon knocked i her down, perhaps to demonstrate his relationship, and there was a general rumpus, after Which she packed her trunks and moved away. ? Robert G. Morris, of the New York Erm^ img TeUyrmti, author of Frank Mordaunt's "Old t Shipmates," has written a melodrama which will be brought ont early next season by Joiin P. Smith, late of "The Tourists." It is called "The Pulse of the City," and contains?tour sensational scenes all of them faithful transcripts of places about New York?which will, it is expected, make the piece a certain success. ? Of Gilbert and Sullivan's new opera the Spirit of (hr Tiims says; As with "Patience" ao with the new o)>era by Gilbert and SuHivan apiotif of the plot may be found in the "Bab ads:*' Once a falrv. light ind airy, wa . ? .a L .. jtairitTi nun a Hi'iri a; M?>n, however, Never, never Pass the miry portil. Slyly stealing, she to E illng - Mod*- a daily Journey; There sh?* fonnl him, Client** round him? (He was an attornt?y). The offspring of this marriage, half fain-, tmlr ! lawyer, become* Lord Chancellor and falls in lore with one ol the wards in Chancery. So he j has to decide upon his own qualifications, and hear himself argue his own case. Thin is (iilbertian enough. Managers Henderson and Carte will open the Standard with this opera next Reason, if it shall have been previously ; produced in I^ondon. If not, they will open with "The Sorcerer," which has not been heard here, except in the Liiuard version, at the Broadway. ? Mr. Kric Bayley closes his season at Hooley's k Theater. Chicago, next week. His success with '"The Colonel" has emboldened hiin to come ; back next season with a stronger company, iu a play called "London Pride." Mr. Bayley is a man of means, who has resolved to stick to the tage. He will, of course, include "The CokuieT* I In his repertoire. Mr. Edward Taylor, of Washington. will remain his business manager. ?Mr. ftavid Belasco has written a very strong drama in "I>a Belle Russe." So strong is it in Intrigue, an element to which modern theaterB-s are comparative strangers, that the tues of Wailach's theater. N. Y., opened their eyes and screwed their intellects up to a new point of appreciation with wonder when it ^ was produced ou Monday night last. ^ ?The Dramatic Tim**, of New York. says-. ' The melodramatic fever will run higher next season than ever. Wallack's will oj>en with 'Taken from Life." the 1'nion Square with the L "Black Flag." Paly's theater with "Mankind," Booth's probably with Sim's new melodrama. Mr. Colville will find some Walter in which to Iroduce Merrltt and Howe's "New Babylon."and lr. l^eonard Grovers "City," though now almost In litigation, will, no doubt. see the light, for It is a splendid play. Mr. Rankin is also engaged on a melodrama calied "The Metropolis." and several combinations are likeiy to go out with new plays of the same class." The Utile Wife Who Tugged Mini Through. "Oftentimes." says Oliver Wendell Holmes. "I have seen a tail ship glide by against the tide as If drawn by an invisible tow line with a hundred strong arms pulling it. Her sails unfurled, her atreamer> drooping, she had neither side wheel nop* stern wheel; still she moved on stately in lOTene triumph, as with her own life. But I knew that on the other side of the ship, hidden beneath the great bulk that swam so majestically. there was a little toilsome steam tug. with a heart of lire and arms of iron, that was tugging it bravely on; and 1 knew- that if the v little si cam tug untwined her arms and left the ship it won Id wallow and roil away, and drill rr blther an I t? her. and go with the ?(bnt J tide no man kn-.ws where. And so I have known more than one genius high-dec*, fullfreighted. wide-sailed, gay-pennoaed, who. but for Mie 'oare toiling arm and bravo warm-beating heart <>fthp faithfnl little wife, that nestled clos*? ttftitai so that m> wind nor ware could part tiie.ii. would have gone down with the stream and been heard of n? more." THE BEAUTIFUL QUAKERESS 07 SANDY SPRING. IN FOUR CHAPTERS. L THK WAT OF IT. Mechanicsvilh* is a clamp of half a dozen buildings where the Washington pike and that leading from ltockviile to I^aurel intersects? both macadamized roads. It is an important point hi tlie midst of a beautifully cultivated region, where have been planted the pleasant seats of the Friends, for many generations. No portfon of the country within the same distance of the capital of the republic presents so many attractions to the cultivated eye; and no people anywhere, for culture, amenity and character, have higher claims to considerations. Not much can be said of the ville. There is a good deal of debris about its two slovenly-kept stores, aad two or three mechanics shops, left until It has become a part of the place. No sidewalk ordinance is enforced. The merchants own their own store buildings. There is a granger halt near the corners south: a venerable Episcopal church under the oid oaks, a few rods west for outside Mary landers. It is twenty miles north of Washington and eight miles from the nearest railroad station. I>aily stages bring mails and passengers; and for many years several of its surrounding Quaker homesteads have been open to summer boarders from Washington, and the seclusion, loveliness, tine air, and health of the neighborhood render it a iavored resort for manv of the befct. The comers and ffoers from th*? canita! In tho season. to lend animation to Mechanicsvilie and an air of holiday festivity to the neighborhood. The white walls of lovely Olnev can be seen through the embowering trees, a hundred yards or so from it to the right, looking east; and the tops of Fair Hill's crowning trees, further to the left?both favorite resorts of health and rest seekers of the capital. A little incident occurred at the close of a June Saturday, at the Mechanicsvi'le postoflice ?also a store?which attracted the notice of the half-dozen men who happened to De there at the tin>e. Willa Dorset had been set down in the neighborhood by her father's carriage during the afternoon, which was to call for her later. For some reason it failed to do so. A city girl would have thought nothing of the walk. To Willa. as to any young lady of the region, it was quite an enterprise. She lingered; the carriage did not appear, and she started, while it was still light, to return. On the platform she met Denbigh, a young man whom she knew, and whom she would and would not see. That the meeting was embarrassing to her was apparent. A gentleman he was, as his manner showed. That the meetiug was a pleasure to hiin he did not care to conceal, though the young girl's reception ot him was not assuring. . Ho apprehended the situation. She would have avoided him. "You are alone, Miss Dorset, and must permit me." was what he said, and he walked au ay by her side, with his hat in his hand. f he*poor girl was perplexed," said the postmaster to the men who witnessed the meeting and departure. "She acted as If she was glad to see him, though." remarked another. "She was and Hhe wasn't," observed a third, as they stood looking at the pair walking away together. "The first time they met. was right here," said the postmaster, a fresh-faced, white-haired man. A shrewd observer was he of what was going on. "That was some time in February. He has been away two months. This is the first time he has been back. I am right sorry he came. Her father knows all about it?all that is said, aud so does she." ' What Is it, anyway?" asked the third speaker, an outsider. "No one knows with certainty. He suddenly appeared here last winter, and made his headquarters at Higgins'. No one knew him or where he came from. A well-dressed, well-appearing young man as you wish to see. He was up here one morning, and Willa rode up her mare, which cast a shoe, and she left her at the blacksmith's shop to have another set. The fellow had been at the shop the day before, and seemed to take an interest In watching the work, and was there again, looking on, when she left her mare, and of course saw she was alone: and so. when the shoe was set. he led the mare back to the store, where she was waiting with her skirt on her arm, tripping about as you know she would. He knew exactly how to do such a thing in a way that no lady could help being pleased with. It was a treat to see how he managed it. When she was in her saddle, he just lifted his hat. barely glancing at her. never speaking a word. Well, she got something at the store?some light thing that made a little bundle, and when the boy handed it up to her he kind of pitched it at her. Her mare suddenly shied, juui]>ed to one side, and so unexpectedly to her that she urcia i \\ iiiif nf hai'OQ/lilla T f iwao <?d rit?!/*lr no fruo |7iivu\ u VIII VI IUI DUUUit IV noo Or? IjUl^lV cVO could be, but the chap wiu near by and on the watch. He sprang forward and ?h*ewas thrown ritrht into his arms. You never saw anything neater than it wa*>. He set her on her feet and held her a half minute, till the frightened, blushing thing began to laugh." Well pleased, of course," observed the second of the two uien. ' She couldn't be displeased," replied the postmaster. "The boy caught up the mare and led her back. The' chap set her on again, and she rode away. That was the beginning of their acquaintance. Well, they met here two or three times after that. She usually rode up for the papers." ' Yes." said the second speaker; "she came for the mail and he for the female," which was received with a laugh, as this man's things usually were. "Well," continued the postmaster, "her father was up here within three or four days, and I introduced Denbigh to him. He invited the chap to call fnere, and he went, of course. He had a horse from Washington. it watf said, and went out with her almost every day. They seemed vastly taken with each other, and everybody was taken with hiin, and everything seemed all right."' "They was as handsome a couple as ever rode in Montgom'ry county," said a bystander, enthusiastically, to which there was a general assent. Wllla being the admitted beauty of that section. "Well," said the postmaster resuming, "things run on In this way for two or three weeks, when he suddenly disappeared, and then everybody said how unwise it was for the Dorsets to let thiugs go on as they had, though no one thought of it before." 4-Things ran on till he ran off." said the wit of the party, himself an outsider, as most of the group were. "Yes: he came In the niglit and went in the night, like Job's gourd," said the first speaker. "Well. Job had all sorts, but I never heard of his rasin' gourds before. I always understood 1 that the old whaler Jonah did something in hard shells." replied the wag. which was greeted with a laugh, and provoked ironical comments upon the first speaker. j "Well," said the post master, "whoever planted the gourds, this yousg man was not heard of here again till this morning, when he came back fresh and sailing a rose." " What Is it about him, anyway ?" inquired i our first speaker. i " Did you ever hear of that great robbery of the Treasury, which occurred last Februaiy ?" asked the postmaster, in answer. "Oh. he was studying the Old Testament," interjected the wag. The postmaster continued: " Tlmt was planned by an outsider, a man named Denny, who was tracked off this way. ; No one knew'him here, till, as was thought, he saw a Washington officer here one day, and lit out. This is supposed to be Denny." "And Willa's eyes have drawn him back. I have heard it said that a girl's eyes will draw further and stronger than any other force in nature. I rather fancy the chap," said our facetious man.-now serious. " He ain't Denny. He would never have com| here, so near." "Some think this was the very place for such a man. No one would expect he would come I here, and he could keep the run of things la Washington." replied the postmaster. I "That force o' nater moat a took a twist onto 'im." said the unfortunate Biblical reader, whose j speech was received with a laugh. He was looking for some of Jeb'a gourd ' ved." was the reply which raised a louder laugh. "Well, he'd better not dangle round here lonu." was the remark of another of the j party. -He had better not remain overFlrst-dav."said the prudent po*t master. "I suspect he has been seen here to-day." "He's no thlel,"' said the man of lively parts. "He comes back to see Miss Willa. Such men ! don't steal." "Our ju'ople are well disposed toward him, 1 and some of them will give him a hint, likely ai i not." said another. ! "i'il bet you he don't go. and that thej donl ' take him." said his friend?the wag. -What'll ye bet?" asked the quoter of Job. * -a dozen cigars la one of Job's gourd shells.' j "Done." The condition* of the wager were settled and restated with a laugh abont the shell. Then an article in a Washington paper wm referred to and discussed. It stated that the supposed robber bad been seen the day before, near the city, going north on horseback. ' Oh, that was not this chap. He came to stay," said his friend. "He came to go," replied his antagonist. "1 will go you a box on't," said the confident man. "A dozen is all I want," was the reply. And then, with many good-natured comments, the neighbors mounted their horses and rode to their several homes. Many of the elder and most of the young men and women ride on horseback and are well mounted and expert horsemen. IT WHAT WII.I.A DID, AND HOW 8H* DID IT. In one direction the forest approaches the little rille to within 400 or 500 yards. Toward this lay the young girl's way. Her first feeling of surprise on meeting the youth was not unmixed with pleasure. Then came another thought, with repulsion and dread. She was amazed that he should attemnt to walk with her, which deepened to a sense of personal insult. She was very young, with no experience of the world; timid, yet having abundant latent spirit and much mental quickness. Something of her feelings her manner conveyed to her enforced attendant, who was not destitute of apprehension. His questions as to herself had the scantiest answers. Those of her parents were ungraciously disposed of. She spoke only to give the shortest answers. The young man (certainly quite a young man) seemed surprised and hurt by her air and answers, and finally he said: ' My return surprises you unpleasantly Miss Dorset." "Thee might say the same of thy going," shortly. "There was the best reason for that," he answered. "So men say," cooly. "What do men say ?" a little eagerly. "That thee had good reason for thy going." "O, some time I wan't to tell you of that. Don't think it involves dishonor." "Thee owes me no explanation," decisively. "I owe one to myself," a good deal vexed. They walked along many yards in silence. "My return is unpleasant to you, Miss Dorset." "he said, relating himself. "Thee says that," shortly. "And thee does not contradict It ?" "I was taught to contradict no one," and another period ot silence ensued, broken by the youth. "Miss Dorset, you are not pleased at seeing me?" "If thee must repeat that, I must say thee observes justly." "Little penetration is necessary to see it"? gloomily. At the margin of the wood a well-made road deviating from the pike. led to the Dorset homestead, not very remote. Few homesteads stand on or very near the public roads, anywhere in Maryland. Into this Willa entered, ! still attended by the young man, who now ; asked: "Miss Dorset, may I ask what men do say of me?" She hesitated an instant and answered: "That thee does not go by thy right name in these parts." 1 do go by my right name"?spiritedly and then adding: "As far as it goes." "Yes, they say that thee and thy name parted company by the" way." "You speak shrewdly, Miss Dorset. Is my name nothing to you?" it seems to oe nothing, or worse, to thee," sharply. ' Can you not imagine that a young man might be* romantic, might meet a young lady, and might wish to try to win her, without his name, or a part of it, and such advantage as that might give him, and trust to himself what he is alone?" "When his personal advantages are so groat, Mr. Denbigh." "Oh, Willa! you know I am not a shallow coxcomb." "I acquit thee of that. The maidens of the Friends are not sought in thy way," coldly. "How are they sought, tell me? and I will seek you in your own way." "Thee would trust to thyself. Now thee would have me teach thee how to woo." At, these words he stepped before her, saying, "O, Willa! you know I love you with my whole heart, as a man loves when he would w In a wife. In your heart* you do not think illy of me." There was no doubt of the intense sincerity and fervor of his words. She dropped her head and would have passed him. "Do not pass me thus coldly and finaHy." "Does thee think it manly to stop me in this way," with much spirit. lie stepped aside, with?"pardon my rudeness." He continued to walk by her when she said: "I do not know what there was In my former conduct to warrant thee in addressing me thus. If there was anything. I grieve." " I am not so vain. Miss Dorset, as to imagine, because a young lady is civil to me, that she is in love with me." " Does thee think it right to thus address a young glxl without the consent of her parents:'" "I was invited to your father's house, and paid you open attention. They knew what my feelings for you were. I will gladly go to them now if you will permit, me." " Nay. nay! Let our acquaintance end here," she said with dignity. They approached the gate at the entrance ot the homestead grounds, which were well kept. " One word," said the persistent young man. laying a hand on the gate fastening. "One word ere we part. Ask your true woman's heart? has It not one little?the taintest throb for me?" This was said movingly and in a voice plaintive and tremulous. " The daughters of the Friends do not question their hearts at the command of?of?the stranger," with dignity. The young man opened the gate, saying coldly and proudly as he did so: "My love lies on the ground over which you are to pass. Place your feet upon it, and stamp it into the earth." The poor child was evidently moved. She hesitated, then lifted her skirts.stepped daintily to one side, as if to avoid something, passed the gateway without raising her eyes or speaking, and ran up the walk leading to the near house. The young man closed the gate, and turned back as Willa's father approached it from another way, who passed him. with a slight inclination of the head, In silence. " Just a trifle cool,' as the grasshopper said to the Icicle, when he tried his teeth on It," was the young mart's soliloquy, as he turned back in t he road. The twilight was deepening into confirmed night in the forest,anu the wood and margins of the fields were filled with the harsh notes of the katydids. Unheeding outward things, the thought of the rejected lover was on what concerned him more, and finally expressed itseit in words. "I always suspected I had a touch of the decided fool; but 1 never before felt it all through me." Mother, vour son Is done for. and wpII done, according to the Macbetliian rule, for "'twas done quickly." The cries of the katydids attracted his attention. "Yes. that is it. Call it through the wood all the live long night: 'Willa did!' 'Willa did!' 'Willa did It!' I can swear to that." He went on musingly and his thoughts took another turn, which lie gave us the benefit of. "Of course they have heard of it, and that accounts for the funny looks of men up here. They would reeard it as one of the deadly sins. She'wouli not believe it, if'?and leaving the sentence unfinished he walked on into the heart of the old wood and of the yovng night. III. FIRST DAT AT THE MEETINO-HOI SE. Sandy Spring is the headquarters of the Friends community. There is the meetinghouse, a lyceum building, an insurance offl ce, a store, post office, Bhops, and residences. It stands some two miles east of Mechanicsville, on the Laurel road. The meeting-house,. a plain, strong, brick edifice, a century old, stands south of the road, and just under some line old oaks, in the eastern margin of an extensive bit of native forest, which it faces, with a small cleared area in front, and sheds for carriages and horses in the near distance under the trees. A wooden veranda runs the whole length of the western side, with seats against the wall. The inside is divided into two roomy apartments by a sort of wooden breastwork, permitting an occupant of 1 either, when seated, to look over the whole congregation, and each has an entrance from the i front, and a sort of dais the whole length of the i east side, for the elders of both sexes, who, in the season of worship, occupy the thus Indicated i divisions of the auditorium. The inside is the i plainest possible. Quite the whole of the two rooms Is ooeupied by ancient, well-worn wooden benches, with backs. i That First-day came with Sabbath silence and pure loveliness Into this bit of primitive torest, in , the margin of which many birds were rearing their i young, while from its depth came the wonderful notes of the wood-thrushes?two males answer; log each other, as la their wont. The Frieads began to assemble for the single session of worship of the day at about half past ' ten; coming in entirefkmuies--the seniors in * ' la the village and forming a continuous procession to the meeting-house, two hundred yards southerly, and all arriving within the space of ten or fifteen minutes. No other class of wor- j shlpers present such cheerful and happy countenances, have such joyous ways and manners when assembled for worship as the Friends. All days are a season of worship, of which the Sabbath is the first. With them it is truly a holiday. As they rode up this morning they alighted and spent the first minutes outside in kindly greetings, while the horses were secured under the shfHls or tied to the smaller trees. The elders all in the ancient costumes of the first Quakers, which was merely the puritan dress of their time, and never changed. The men, with their calm, earnest, cheerful faces; the elderly matrons, wearing the serene sweetness and loveliness which comes of lives fashioned by "the inner light." The most beautiful and lovely old women are found among the Quakers, as well as the most genuine ladies. The youths and maidens were nearly all in the ordinary costume of the well-to-do of the world. Many of the girls were comely and draped in the fashion and something of the style of the Capital. They were all inttmates, and most of them related, as comes to be the case in peculiar communities. The meeting was joyous, and many minutes were spent In the open air of the forest In the Interchange of greetings, inquiries, good wishes, and general conversation before entering the meeting house, into which the elderly and most of the middle aged withdrew, leaving the younger in unrestrained conversation outside. A close observer would have noted something unusual In the air and tone of the assemblage oh this morning; voices in earnest inquiry, and moments of silence, as of expectancy. Denbigh was known to them all. Many of them had seen him with Willa. and many a fair young quakeress would not have greatly ob jecieu io occupying ner pince in nis attentions and regards. All that was known or had been said of him ia connection with her, and other things. all knew. They knew he had disappeared and the supposed reason. Everybody ; knew of his return, and everybody soon learned i that he met her the evening before, and walked j home with her, and left her at the gate. . It ; transpired also that officers came into the . neighborhood for his arrest during the night, and were on the lookout for him. Yet, whether arretted or escaped, no one yet knew. It was wondered whether the Dorsets would be at the meeting. It was said they would not, and while the buzz was loudest they drove up. Willa was with them, and the young girls gathered about her, some to look at and talk about her, but the most to Indirectly sympathize with,' support and protect her. She was cool and collected, felt that she must be there. At about the time of the latest arrivals two strangers got out of a carriage, left a little distent from the meeting-house, looked carelessly about them, approached the veranda and paused, when one ot them was recognized as a famous Washington detective. This flashed over the eaiter group and produced a sensation. Tne officer's acquaintance approached and spoke to him, and many of the younger men gathered alxmt near them. It was seen at once that Denbigh had not been arrested, and that the officers may have expected to meet him at the Sandy Spring meeting-house. A greater sensation awaited the assembled Friends, among whom were several outsiders. Within three or four minutes after the arrival of the detectives Denbigh himself was discovered leisurely riding through the woods along a road from the southwest, approaching the meetinghouse. A general irrepressible "That is him!" was followed bv a profound silence, which grew to a painful expectancy. At the first exclamation the two officers looked up. glanced at the approaching horseman, looked at each other, and laughed. "It is rough on him, and on us, too." iaid the ; principal of the two, whom his companion called j Mack, and who addressed him as Pard. "Well, but thev do look a little bit alike at a distance," replied the Pard. "He looks about as much like Denny as a handsome man does like you. Pard." "No, he don't, though," was the reply. "He calls himself Denbigh here, and that sounds like Denny, and helped the blunder?as if Denny wouldn't even change his name! You ! know this one was keeping dark three or four i months ago, and this place wouldn't answer his purpose for that," said Mack In explanation. "Which of the young ladles lias he been attentive to here?" he asked, turning to the young men about him. "The one who just now sat down by the tree there," answered one of them, with a jesture in Wdla's direction. .. "That explains It," was the response of Mack, who asked the question at hazard. In the meantime Denbigh dismounted, tied hlshor^eto a small tree, and approached the meeting house, passing near the little scared group about Willa, who, unable to sustain herself. sank onto a seat near an old oak. As he , became aware of her presence* he lifted his hat aud passed her without word or look. All eyes I were on him, with glances at the officers; those remote from them expecting his immediate arrest; and the young companions of Willa gathared closely about her, as if to screen her eyes from the spectacle. As he passed the cluster of girls the detective approached him, laughing. He saw them and turned toward them, when they lifted their hats with the most profound respect. He knew Mack, shook hands with him, nodded to his pard, UU *-* * I auu iwjii uu 1119 v\u> lu me meeuug uouse, which he entered. "Why," exclaimed one of the group, about Willa, "he goes straight up to that awful Mr, Mack! What a cool, proud way be has. Oh! they take off their hats to him! and lie shakes , hands with Mr. Mack! O, I shall die! There! he turns laughing, away, and goes toward the meeting-house, and tiiey let him go! Did you ever,ever,ever!" as of course they never did,and that was all there was of it, save a srreat sense of relief, and a geueral rush into the meetinghouse after Denbigh. The rare Benjamin Hallo well, one of the rarest men, an intrinsically great man, the silver-ton^ued preacher of the Hicksite Friends, was sleeping in his grave, under the oaks, a few yards to the right and back from the meetinghouse. The service this morning will be a silent and otherwise an inexpressibly reverent worship and waiting, and we will remain to note the outside happenings in the open air. The officers followed to the veranda, and sat down on the steps. "That is him," said the young man, who still anticipated a catastrophe, as did a half-score who remained outside. "YesTthat'shim, sure enough, but not Denny," replied Mack. "Ain't thee going to take 'im?" asked the chap. "Take the devil!" immensely disgusted. "This would be the very place to find him," said the wag of the night before, who was present. "How would you like to place the nippers on 'im, Mack?" asked the Pard. "Who? The devil? I would as soon pjut them on President Arthur as him," with a nod of his head towards the meeting-house. "Who is he, any way?" asked the first speaker. "You say he calls himself Denbigh here. He may be what phases him," with a trucculent stare, as if that was the business of none but the party himself. "So she, under the tree, is the lucky one?" he went on to say. "Well she is a fair excuse. If she hooks him it will be what no Washington woman can do." "And they have all tried," said the Pard. "Is he rich?" "Is he rich?" with another stare. "Well, Pard, let's be off," and they walked away in the direction of their carriage, with the air of men who had been sold, when their own sagacity should have protected them. In the meantime Willa and her group had separated. The most of them weut into the meeting, which she, though Immensely relieved, did not feel equal to, and with a special friend she walked away into the forest, wandering aimlessly about, until the meeting dissolved itself by that common Impulse or silent consent which terminates the sessions of worship. Denbigh came in some way to understand the real nature of the suspicions under which he was held. Generous and rash, he was indignant that they could be entertained of him. and there was a feeling of half contempt mingled with his anger. He remained in the neighborhood over night and went to the meeting, because he would not ask questions or offer explanations. Of course, as he thought, had W ilia loved him, she could never have believed what was said of him. As the congregation arose and went out, he passed in the press, speaking to none, and no one took the liberty of speaking to him. From the steps of .the veranda he walked very deliberately toward his horse, and in a very high, unseeing way. Just at this moment, Willa and her mend were on their way back from the wood, and the parties met nninteotlonaly on either side. They were too near each other when the mutual discovery was made to avoid meeting. Willa's friend, with the tact of her sex, hastily left her tide,' that they might not be embarrassed by her presence. WUIa dropped her eyes, compressed 'her lips and held bravely on. At their nearest approach the youth bent his head, and in a manner of playful sarcasm repeated from Allen-a-Dale: "Maiden, a nameless life I lead, A nameless death Fll die: The fiend, whose lantern lights the mead. Were better mate than ?* The poor girl, her face pallid, with a scared look, raised her eyes to his. Passing her. he \ went dire#j to his horse, mounted him, and rode alowly away in the direction from which he came through the wood. Her friend hurried back to the agitated girl's aide, asking excitedly, " O, what did he say to thee ?" " He quoted some lines from an old ballad." " O, how romantic!" turning to look after the retiring young man. 441 hope they are satisfied, now'they hare driven him away from thee." 41 Nay, nay; I drove him away myself." Her friend accompanied her bacK to her mother's carriage, which she entered, and they drove away. The Friends remained in groups for a few minutes, talking oyer the exciting incidents of the day, and then dispersed to their carriages and horses, and soon the grim old meeting-house was left to the silent keeping of the solitary wood. If, in fancy, we follow the various groups to their widely'dispersed and beautiful homes, and observe them for the rest of the day. we should find them devoting it to farailv reunions, neighborhood gatherings, calls, visiting and pleasant social converse. IV. FAIR Hn.L. Mrs. Lozler was the next sensation of the Sandy Spring community, which seldom permits itself to go beyond a sensation, where It is not taken by surprise, as in the case of Denbigh, destined to remain a mystery for some weeks. She applied for rooms at Fair Hill so late that the mistress was perplexed and a little dismayed. She found her, as she had some others of whom she had heard, one of the easiest to please. That she who had been conspicuous at the great watering places in this country and In Europe should content herself with ruralizing so near home, cseated comment at the Capital, also. She was charmed with Fair Hill, and the hostess and guest, from the first, became something more than boarding-house keeper and boarder. Mrs. Lozier was a belle in her young lady days, a social queen in her married years; lost her husband, went to Europe, returned, married a second time, and was a second time a widow. While retaining much of her earlier prestige, she contented herself with a smaller and more select circle. With a wide experience, she had extracted its best, while she cherished a vein of the romance of her girlhood. | She had lived the life of which her new friend I of Fair Hill had only heard and read, yet they had much in common. Both were shrewd observers, and each appreciated the best in the other. Mrs. Lozier was charmed with the rambling old brick and wooden house (brick brought froni England), its stairways, warped floors, and many nooks: was fond of hearing of its oldtime importance, its traditions, and even talked | of restoring its lost ghost, the legend of which at least still haunted the place, and several had within tiie later years almost seen or come very j near hearing it. There was a pleasant company that summer at Fair Hill, who, with the guests at Olney, made the days festive, especially when joiued" by the male compliments of husbands and lovers from the Capital. Acquaintances were soon made with the families of the neighborhood, especially the younger members, among whom were many lovely and accomplished girls, and eligible young men?gentlemen, though tillers ot land. uuuspmuuus aiuum; tnese was ?ma uorset,wtio early attracted the notice of Mrs. Lozier, who seemed at once to distinguish her by marked interest and attention. So beautiful, sweet, fresh and modest, possessed of rare, shy, pood sense, trraceful and apt in all her girlish ways. Mrs. Lozier had with her an elderly lady companion, and maid, and soon attracted to herself the young girls' liking. She was the companion of the ladies' drives and walks, read charmingly, had a delicious voice, and sang with much effect , several little airs. The Dorsets. people of fine culture, were i pleased and flattored by the great lady's notice, and between her and them there come to be much mutual esteem. Something there was of pensive, just a flitting shade of sadness at times noticeable in the look and manner of the young' girl, which her friend came to observe, and upon which she sometimes playfully rallied her, aud which usually called up a delicious increase of color, followed by an unwonted palor. More than once the true-hearted lady said?"never mind, Willa, I will some time bring you a lover." Nothina: was said by any one to Mrs. Lozier of the Denbigh affair, to which no reference was ever made in the presence of the young ffirl. It was supposed, however, that in the precious child's heart she cherished the memory of the rejected lover, and his last words to her, the ominous quotation from ltokeby. The summer ran its course through July, and , deep into August, and the social world of the Friends and their guests flowed pleasantly along, with no incidents graver than an occasional picnic, evening lawn party, theatricals, dances, or i an excursion to some neighboring point of mild interest, enlivened by flirtations among the young people aud rather colorless gossip of the I seniors. From the rear of the main building at Fair i Hill is an ell, the ground floor of which was once a spacious school-room for young ladies. This had been transmuted into a parlor, a dancing-room and on occasions a theater. The sun lingers longest among the tree tops over Fair Hill. It was already twilight below. Mrs. Lozier and Willa were alone In the large room. ; Everybody else was out under the trees in front of the house. Hie yountr girl had been reading to her friend and the tale had depressed her. She laid the book by. "Sing me your song of the violet." said her watchful friend, who had by a little linesse detalued her in the room. There was a wistiul expression In the girl's eyes, as if she would rather not; then she arose, proceeded to the piano, on which she accompanied herself, and rendered with touching effect the exquisite air, burdened with the following words: " In the grass the violet low, Ope's timid her heart to* the sun. Her heart to the sun. The sun's love, with passionate flow, Lights earth and sura with golden glow, While tlie violet loves but one, Loves but one, Loves one. Heart and soul drink the golden ray, From the great sun's burning eye, Sun's burning eye. In her bosom it lights her day. Till coming night drives it away, When closes her heart to die. Closes to die, To die." As the child's voice died away with the Terrain. she became conscious of the presence of some other person, who had stolen in while she was singing. Ere she turned from the piano, Mrs. Lozier, who had risen, approached, bent over her and kissed her cheek, saying: "I told you I would bring you a lover." " O, who is here ? " cried the girl, starting to her feet, and turning suddenly she faced Denbigh. She sank slowly into her seat again. " My son, Samuel Denbigh Lozier." said the mother, not quite prepared for the effect on the surprised, almost overcome child. " Indeed?indeed, Mrs. Lozier," cried the girl, covering her face with her hands. The woman bent tenderly over her again. "You do not hate him?" she whispered. " Hate? O, Mrs. Lozier!" in the same tone. " He is so unhappy; yoa will love him a little?" "They pay," said the young girt, not raising her now burning face, "that young men do not care for roses that pluck themselves, and birds that fly into their hands." "O, that is it?" kissing her fondly. " They told tales of him to my father, but I did not believe them." she said, with h?r still turned downward. " I know you did not," confidently. Denbigh bad remained silent, standing where WiHa first saw him, and caught none of their words. At a gesture from his mother, he now advanced a little hesitatingly. " Thee will not tell him," said the still agitated girl, as she again arose without lifting her eyes. " No, no; he must find it out for himself. There, you precious, go with him out among the trees and hear what be has to tell you." "O, you blessed old darling," cried the young man to his mother, advancing. He took the hand of the girL which he placed within hit arm and conducted her out by the back way. The twilight bad deepened under the trees, and the stars came out faintly over them. The guests were gathered in from the lawn and collected In two or three groups on the front porches, leaving the grounds quit* to the young pair. *'0, WJlla!" cried the partly roassuied young man. "I don't know what to say, or what! may hope for." She wisely said nothing to this, and collecting his scattered thoughts, be told her of the sudden quarrel in the cause of an absent friend, and of his being challenged. "0,thee was thai gentleman!" exclaimed WiHa. It had been in all the papers, though no names were given, "and thee did not return hit fire." "I was fbolish to go out, and I was hereunder my mother's name, and that cloud. They oame to arrest me. Ton know now why I went to suddenly. It was foolish, and your people will think me a great criminal, I told yon why I oame bank to yon. "It is a very pretty name" said the gist, naively, answering only a part of his speech. "Do you like ltbrtterthaa my lUheSnnaaer "Thee may have both, sow, may theenotT e*"yVQ*jB4 If m vfttiki ttHk Do you remember when I wanted to know if your heart had one little Uirob for mo, what yon i? md?" "Thee sees mv heart now," lowering her fern. "Lore is blind, you know, and I cannot eren see your face." "Thee made a cruel speech when thee told me thy love was on the ground, and then, on first day, when hundreds ot eyes were on me. those awful lines, and thee rode away In scorn.'' "You had ret used me; detectives were hunting me." "And thee would not say one little word, when that would have made all dear," she went on. "O WHla! I loved you the first moment I saw you, and when your horse threw you into my arms?God bless her?1 felt that you belonged to me." " And so did 1," naively, with lowered face. " O, you blessed! Precious! If I pained thee when I went, let me try to blew thee with my life's devotion now, when I come hack." adopting her form of speech In his fervor. They stood silent under the trees for a half-minute. " Dost love me. Willa?" " Do I love thee? Dost doubt it?" The young man bent his head and proffered his Hps?"Kiss me. then." The girl cast her eyes shyly around. never kissed even my father's lips. Thy gracious mother?" she paused. "Well, my gracious mother," laughing. " Might not approve," refusing to meet his eyes. " Would you ask your own mother?" " I am less in awe of her." " Did not my blessed mother come here on purpose to seek your love, you. and all- for my sake?for me?and then tell me when I might come?" "O. Denbigh! how unworthy I am." " Unworthy! when we think you are more than worthy, again profferine hfs lips. "Thee is as importunate as a beggar at the I door-bell. ' I atn a begerar," laughing. * As they thus stood, the coy one still hesitatj ins:. Mrs. Lozier approached* and without designing it. surprised them. j "Oh. here is my gracious mother." said the ' youth, turning to her. "I asked her for a kiss, and she said I am as importuuate as a beggar at the door-hell," laughing. "I don't doubt that," said the lady. "We are taught to Ik* miserly of kisses." said I the coy one, the dimples in hercheeks overflowing with color. "You are wise, sweet little miser," said the mother, "yet it may be wiser to jtfve," she added, turning her face from them toward the house, while her ample person covered them from the observation of any idle and curious | enough to watch them. "You blessed, heavenly mother," was Denbigh's response to his mother's words. When the gracious lady turned to them again, they were standing very close, with an arm about a consenting waist. The three moved together about the lawn, the j young girl In blissful tears, between her lover 1 and hi>Tmother. Later, the Lozier carriage was driven around. Willa was placed on the cushions, and attended by Denbigh was driven towards her home. It stopped at the roadway In the wood and the lovers walked over the path of Denbigh's return, a rejected loveron that June night, and he told her of the mocking jeers of the katydids, who chanted in different tones on this ripe summer evening. The return of Denbigh, as the son of Mrs. Lozier. to claim the love of Willa, is still the talk and wonder of Sandy Spring. And not a shaded, winding old road under the trees which abound there, but what in the succeeding days saw the happy ones in some of their many horseback excursions. 'Ere Christmas time there was a famous wedding, and Willa spent the winter in the Capital. The next she will go abroad. Washington, D. C. ??? Saturday- Smile*. ?A new regime. Mr. Threeflneers of Washington, D. C., gathered courage the other day to say to Mrs. Threefingers: "Wife, I must have that night-key now. This isn't a Hayes administration."?Louisville Courier-Journal. ?Adam, of all husbands, was the least henpecked. Whenever Eve would begin to remind him of his shortcomings, he had only to say, "Madame, I hope you haven't forgotten that little aflalr of the apple." ?"Wanted, a distinguished and healthylooking man to be a 'cured patient' in a doctor's waiting-room. Address I. B. R., Poste Restante. ?French Advertisement. ?A nice-looking young man, who seated hlmselt in a well-filled North Side car, held in between his jewelled fingers the stump of a cigar, giving out its dying fumes. They are not a pleasant odor, even to old smokers, and in this case was specially vicious. One bright little miss, a dozen years old, saucily remarked, so as to be heard: "If he will throw it away. I will pick him up a longer stump as soon as we get up to the park." It was not long before that young man went to the front platform to see a man.?Cleveland Herald. ?Live within your income. It's terrible hard work to live without It.?Philadelphia ChronicleHerald. ?"Does the world miss any one?" asks a gloomy writer. Just at the present that large portion of the world known as American misses Howgate; but we don't suppose this is the right answer.?Norrislown Herald. ?"Waiter," he said, suddenly looking up after struggling full five minutes "with a piece of meat, "waiter, what do they do with these socalled beefsteaks when we get through with them?" The waiter was a trifle disconcerted, but said people ate them. "Incredible!" exclaimed the diner: "I cannot believe you!"? Hotel MaiL ?"Yes,"said the country member. "I went to that variety show because I felt sure there'd be nobody there who knew me! Durned If pretty much the whole legislature wasn't there!"? Boston Post. ? Rev. Samuel R. Wilson, of Madison, says he would rather stand alone with Paul than be with the women. Well, we guess we won't stand in with Brother Wilson. We fear it would be a little lonesome out in the next world with just him and Paul.?Lafayette Journal. ? "I see a great many pictures of goats hanging up in the windows, lately," said a Netf Haven woman to her husband. "Is it a goat festival or something of that sort?" "No, my dear," replied her husband; "It is?it Is?well, it is?I believe it has something to do with beer or some such thing;" and he tried to look innocent, but it was no use. She fixed her eye upon him and said: "I saw you go Into one of those 'stores,* and thought you'd know.'"?New Haven Register. ^ MEDICINE FOR WOMAN. INVENTED BT A WOMAN. I PREPARED BT A WOMAN LYDIA E. FIXKHA1T8 VEGETABLE COMPOUND I> a Fmxtiti Guma For all them Painful Complaint* mm4 Weatmemm m common to our M/mib population. It will cure entirely the went form of Female Complaints, all Ovarian Troubles, Inflammation and PloeraHon. Falling and Displacements, and the consequent Spinal Weakness, and is particularly adapted to the Changes of Life. It will dissolve and expel Tumors from the Uterus In an early stage of development The tendency of Canoeroos Humors Is checked very speedily by tta we. Ik removes Falntnaat Flatulency, destroys all Cravinga for Stimulants, and Believes Weakness of the Stomach. It curea Bloating, Headache, Nervous Prostration. General Debility, fTlenpleasnsss, Depression and Indigestion. The feeing of bearing down, earning pain, weight and lurtartA la always permanently camd by itaose. OrpHSSIGIAKS USE R AND PKXBCBIBS X* yREKI.Y. II will at aUtlmea and under an iln imistaima act In harmony wtthtbs laws that govern the female w the cure of Kidney Complaints of either sex thia J risiipriiinil la imiiiiina?iil LTDIAE. PI$KHAM*8 VEGETABLE COMPOUND ta piypared at M and M Wsatarn awaat, Lynn. Mm. Price fL Six bottles for $S. Sent by anil la the form of pills, aleo in the form of kwengea, on receipt of price, fl per box for either. Mi*. Piukham treaty anrwen all letters of Inquiry. Sand foe pamphtot Adtaaaaaboii m rpHERE 18 BUT OKB GBKUINB ESSENCE Of JAMAICA GINGEB IK THK MARKET. And that la FRED'K BROWJTg BHILvDELPHIA. * I All others are Imitation* or made to atO OS tba N|Nh> tioa of the Original. and mar do ham. while FREDSRICK BROWN'S PHILADELPHIA, will always be lililaa ! SPRING. BUMMER. AUTUMN. an< WINTER. la an STOMACH DISORDERS. For SLEEPLESSNESS. Tor SUDDEN CHILL8. WHEN DRENCHED DURING THE EQUINOX. WHEN COLD IN WINTER. WHEN DISTRESSED IN SUMMEB. Buy a bottle of your Dru(rjri*t or your Grocer for M Out*, (insist on hsvtntr the GENUINE given yon? FREDERICK BROWN'S PHILADELPHIA,) and yttt will secure an article which will serve you well?ALL THE YEAR ROUND. dl_ JJOSTETTER'S CELEBRATED oRSfio TTTT OO MM MM A OOO R R 5 TOO M M MM A& O O H g H8S8a T O O M MM M A A O HUH R H TOOMMM AAA O 0 H H "SSS8 T OO M M M A A OOO fi 8 BBS n TTTT fTTT RRR RRR .888. B B n T T B SB * " BBB II T T KB RRR *888. B B II T T B B R . BBB II T .T BBB B B Has* ? a Among tbe medicinal mttni of iimting di?H% Hostetter's Stomach Bitten stand* i>r*-emlnent. II checks tbc further ps ngisas of all diaordeca of the stomach, linr and bowels, revives the vital atemina, prevents and remedies chills sad few, increases the activity of the kidney*, counteracts a tendency te rheumatism, and is s genuine stay and solace to seed* InArm and nervous persons. s For sals by all Druggists and Dealers generally. at r J^OUISIANA STATE LOTTERY. UNPBECEDFNTED ATTRACTIO*! OYER HALF A MILLION DISTRIBUTED! LOUISIANA STATE LOTTERY COM PA NT. Incorporated in 1868 for twenty-live yean* t>y thel/egtaIsturrfor Educstional and Charitable puri>osee?with a capital of (1.000.000?to which a reserve fund ft (6a0.000 hss since been added. By an overwhelmliur i?oi>ular vote its franchise was made a part of the preeent State Constitution adopted December 2d, A. D.. 1879. ITS GllAND SINGLE NUMBER DRAWINGS WILL TAKE PLACE MONTHLY. IT NEVER SCALES OB POSTPONES Look at the following distribution : GBAND PROMENADE CONCEBT, Durimr which will take plane the 145th GRAND MONTHLY. amd the EXTRAORDINARY SEMI-ANNUAL DRAWING, AT NEW ORLEANS. TUESDAY. JUNE IS, 1882, Under tbe personal supervision and management of Gen. G. T. BKAURKGARD. of Louisiana, and Gen. JURAL A. EARLY, of Virvirila. CAPITAL PRIZE 1100.000. fWNOTICE?TICKET8 ARE TEN DOLLARS ONLY. HALVES, $6. FIFTHS, $2; VENTHS, (L LIST OF PRIZES. 1 Capital Prise of (100,000 f100.000 X Grand Prize of 60,000 Mt.ooo 1 Grand Prise of 20.000 20,000 2 Large Prises of 10,000 30,000 4 Large Prizes of 6,000 20,000 SO Prises of L0O0 20.000 B0 Prises of BOO 25.000 100 Prises of 800 80.000 *K) Prizes of 900 40.000 600 Prises of 100 60,000 10,000 Prises of 10 100,000 APPROXIMATION PRIZES. 100 Approximation Prize* of (200 (20,000 100 Approximation Prizes of 100 10,000 100 Approximation Prizes of 76 7,600 11.279 Prizes, amounting to (622.600 Gen. G. T. BEAUREGARD, of La.. Gen. JURAL A. EARLY, of Va.. ('ounniBMioners. Application for rates to Clubs should only be made te the Office of the Company in New Orleans. For information apply to _ .. * M. A. DAUPHIN. NEW ORLEANS*, LOUISIANA. N.B.?Orders addreaaed to New Orleans will reoetvs prompt attention. The particular attention of the mMir it catted to (k fart that the entire number qt the ticket*far each Monfhlm lerawino ts eold, and consequently aU the prize* w? sac* drawing are eoUX and drawn and imm. mlO Aw i L U U MM MM BBB RRR RRR L U U MMMM B B F R R L. V its D E. H: NO ADVANCE IN LPMBEB WILLET 4 LIBBEY'S. SAME PRICKS AS LAST TEAS. m W P.000.000 tmtct iMutim. onMtwbw Mat yaw. and ww vUl mD ovecr foot of ItatotdpclM*. WILLET * LIBBEY, OOK. 0TH AID HI T0IE 4VUBB c _ . _ B WiOMmr, or atO. W. GBOPUEPS iriiiim vmvmmk bii ' ? . .iSk ... Minim