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THE WIl'K. As you say, Colonel, here it is charming; (' Swct Angel, J beg for a walls!") Your flattery'.-' really alarming; I am snre that you know it'-is false. But I'll whirl with you round for u minute, Tu.-t to prove how you erred in your haste; A '.17. i juite nice while you're in it ;.iMjuite so tight on my waist. ( Writes.) "Dear Husband I'm penning this letter lii loneliness here at the Springs; Every day makes mc deeper your debtor For the kin 1 words the previous mail brings. But oh! what a void fills my bosom You there, and I lien all alone; No friends, if I e'en wished to choose 'em, You chained to your desk like a drone." Tin: Hir.siJAND. Here, Charley! help till up this basket; Put in the champagne ami the ice; Never mind if you should overtask it Pill it up with this bric-a-brac nice. Those Dutch girls will soon make it lighter Aiter the dance and the swings. Tnrow in these cigars. Strap it tighter, While I write a line to thepriugs. ( lrritis.) "slowly the shadows are falling, Alike on my dc-k and my life; The plaint of a famished love, calling For you, my sweet treasure my wife; I sit here so wearily thinking, And wishing my penance were o'er, And dreaming our love is a-linking My heart with your heart evermore!" .. '('. I'rindle, in A. Y. f'ost. When the Song's Gone Out of Your Life. " Wnn the song's gone out of jour life, you can't start another while it's a-ringingin your ears, but it's best to have a bit of silence, and out o that may be a psalm'll come by-and-by." Bdtcarii Garrett. When the song's gone out of your life, That you thought would hint to the end That first sweet song of the heart, That no after days can lend The song of the bird to the trees, Tho eong of the wind to the flowers, The song that the heart sings low to itself When it wake in life's morning hjjftrs, You can start no other song," Not even a tremulous note Will falter forth on the empty air, It dies in your aching throat. It is all in vain that you try, For the spirit of song has fled The nightingale sings no more to the rose When the beautiful flower is dead. So let silence softly fall Onthcbruised heart's quivering strings; Perhaps from the loss of all you may learn The song that the seraph sings; A grand and glorious psalm ni.it will tremble, and rise, and thrill, And till your breast with its grateful rest, And its louely jearnings still. Boston Triniscript. LUMLEY'S PARDNER. A Story of Early California Times. I havi forgotten the name lie brought with him from the States, lor nobody here ever called him any thing else but " Luni ley's Pardner." j Wt miner-; have a familiar knack of re christvnii.g. and a name once altered sticks to a man a? long as he sticks to the mines; so, even atter Lumley had thrown up his claim and left the diggings, a good three year? ago. Lumley's Pardner still remain ed.a linger-post to trace the distance back. After all, John Jones, or Lumley's Pard ner. what mattered it, in that doubtful tide of immigration setting in toward the wild regions, where the first confidential question, after intimacy seemed to war rant the liberty, was invariably, " Sa-ay, comrade, what wa your name before you came hero ? " YTou see. I knew Lumley's Pardner when he first came into the mines. I was up at Wood's Diggings at the time he and a party of twoyir three more came around prospecting. I remember I thought what a line stalwart young fellow he was, straight as a young pine tree, and no fool ishness about him either, for he had been roughing it a year or two down on the Texas border. I never -aw the boys more downright pleased over a new-comer than when he bought a claim and went in with us. He was not a man to talk much about himself, nor one you would feel free to que-tion : but there was honest square dealing looking out of his clear gray eyes, lor all the trouble and unrest laid up be hind them. Lumley was as different as a man could be. I have often noticed that men take to unlike? in mating among themselves, as well as in choosing mates or life. lie came into the diggings a week or so later, and They somehow fell in together. Lum ey wa- what you might call an extra olever fellow. He looked scarcely more man a boy these fair-skinned people never show their age with his handsome, womanish face, bright blue eyes, and trim built figure ; but he had confidence until you could not rest, plenty of the gift of gab. and a something about him I be lieve people call it magnetism ; at least, when you were with him you believed lust as he did, and then wondered at your self afterward for doing it. Lumley always had a knack of twisting lolks round his little linger, for all that the lines of firmness were quite lacking about bis mouth. Lumley's Pardner, now, with his close-set-lips, and square massive jaw you might as well hope to move a moun tain as him against his will. He would be strong to do, or to bear ; you could easily see that. I do not know as it was exactly fair ! I .never meant to eavesdrop, but t happened in this wise : One night, I went over to Lumley's shanty it was amazing strange now soon his name got tacked to every :ning to see about a broken pick lie want ed mended. I used to do the smithing in those days. As I opened the door, I saw there was no one in, and, being tired with my day's work, I dropped down on a log mst outside, lit my pipe, and sat leaning back against the pine boards waiting for Lumley to come back. I guess I must have got drowsj- and fallen asleep, for the iirst thing 1 heard was voices, and Lum ley's Pardner speaking out bitter and short, m a way we seldom heard him speak. " 1 reckon it's of no use to ask if there's my letters come to my name," he said. There's no one to write to me.'' I rubbed open my eyes and saw two jleams of light streaming out through the ren door and the one loop-hole of a win tow, and then I knew that Lumley and his .r.ate must have passed me by ami never oen me in the twilight. liaising myself .p, I saw Lunile through the window -itting down to the pine table beside a tal :ow dip, with two or three letters lying be fore him. and one open in his hand. Then dashed across my mind that one of the uoys from a camp beyond had gone in to tl:e station and was due with the mail .i-it night. Lumley's Pardner sat over the far side oi the table with a gloomy look in his eye. Being in the same boat myself, I knew how lonesome it was never to have news from home, and wondered to myself how a manly, line-looking fellow like him should be without wife or sweetheart waiting with a woman's pride in him some where. Lumley was busy reading his letters. I j thought I had better stay outside. He was that intent at lirst that he seemed not to have heard the other's words, but after a moment he lilted his face with one of the promt, bright looks that were Lumley's own. " A', comrade !" he cried, cheeri ly; ''and don't tell me it isn't all your own fault. Don't dare to envy me my wife and child." There was no reply ; but, looking over, saw such a bitter, sorrowful look on the lace of Lumley's Pardner, that, scarcely knowing what I was doing, I stood and watched and pitied him. 1 heard Lumley read aloud ; words of love and trust, watching and waiting, and of happiness in him and the child. I saw his face as he read. He might be a weak man, but he loved the woman and the child. From the last letter there dropped out a carte de visite. Lumley caught it up with boyish eagerness. ''Old pard," he cried, "you shall see my two treasures. Here they are Lulie and the boy !" He tossed the picture across the table. The other picked it up. 1 saw a man die once, stabbed through the heart. Just such a look came into the face of Lumley's Pardner, as he glanced at that picture in his hand. Lumley, bending over his let ter, never saw it. When he had finished reading,he held out his hand. The other did not even raise his eyes, but kept them fix edly on what he held. "I, too, once thought to have a wife and child," he muttered presently, less to Lumley than to himself. The words, following that look, were a whole book of revelation to me. Hap pily, Lumley did not notice. His face showed some surprise, mingled with that placid satisfaction the successful man al ways wears. " Ah !" he returned, shaking his head knowingly, "is that the way the land lies? T knew you were always elose niuuthed, but a disappointment I never expected that. She, whoever it was, had precious bad taste when she looked the other way !" and he ran his eye admiring ly over the other's splendid proportions, and manly, handsome face. "She never refused me," broke in Lum ley's Pardner, in a low, smothered tone, his eyes still fastened intently on the pic ture. " I never asked her ; but she knew my mind, and I thought I knew hers. I was sure she would wait for me until I came back. It was for her I went away." " But you wrote to her?" questioned Lumley, with genuine interest. " Not a word not it line. I am a poor scribe. But she knew me well enough to need no written assurance of my inten tions. Every day would be lived for her. There could be no doubt of that in her mind." Lumley made a hasty gesture of dissent. "And there, old man, was precisely where you tailed to connect ! It don't do, j'ou know, for women to take too much for granted. They like to be well forti fied ; and then you are the surest to win if you take them by storm. Why, my Lulie " " She don't look as though she ever walked over a true heart with her dainty feet, and that glad little smile just curving her lips ! " broke in Lumley's Pardner, his white lace still bent on the picture. His deep voice trembled a little over the last words. "Lulie is truth itself," answered Lum ley, quickly. " She never loved any body but me. To be sure, she had admirers- how could she help that and be what she is? but she loves me truly. You can see it in her eyes ! ?' Lumley's Pardner turned deathly pale. He caught the table by one hand as if to steady himself, and fairly hurled the pic-1 ture across to Lumley. It missed its mark and fell to the floor. As he saw it fall, all the fierceness died out of his eyes, and a frightened look crept into them. " Pick her up," he said, with timid ap prehension, as though it were a human be ing to whom, in a moment of passion, he had committed some act of violence. " I didn't mean to do that poor little mother ! " the last word seemed to give him a stronger footing with himself. " I was thinking how my wife married an other man, and never let me know." " Come, come, old man, don't take it so to heart," said Lumley, soothingly. " There'll be a pleasant home, a dear little woman, and bright-eyed children in the (uture for you yet! " " Nevkk ! " Lumley's Pardner brought down his list like a sledge-hammer ; then he leaned forward in his seat, with a feverish eager ness in his manner which he tried hard to keep out of his voice: Tell me, how would you have given up .your Lulie?" Lumley laughed with easy, careless good-nature. "You put me in a tight place," he said. "But, supposing the case, the iirst question I should ask would be, Did she go over to the enemy's camp in other words, forsake me for an old rival?" " N-n-o !" answered Lumley's Pardner, slowly. "It was some one I had never seen. I've nothing ag'in the man." " Why, then," went on Lumley "truth sometimes cuts hard, old fellow 1 think it was your fault, and not the girl's. It's a man's privilege to speak his mind ; a woman's destiny to fold her hands and wait. She can never be quite sure unless he has spoken out. Then perhaps an other, who has learned to love her, does speak. She feels the need of love in her life ; women a1? often many to be loved as because they love. Then, instead ol wast ing her life for that which may never come to her, she takes up the fate lying at her feet. Does she go so very much astray?" Lumley's Pardner dropped his head upon his breast. "Poor girl ! I never thought of that," he said. I do not know just how it was that I re membered all the words so plain. There was no more said, and, feeling guilty-like for stealing a mate's secret which it was not meant for mc to know, I crept to my shanty, bunked in, and let the broken pick lie over until morning. I always felt sorry for Lumley's Pard ner after that. Well, lor the time, things went on in the old way. Then Lumley's Pardner came down with mountain-fever, and Lumley nursed him through it. He was as tender as a woman, was Lumley! When I used to drop in of nights, occa sionally, to lend a hand at watching, the sick man's eyes would follow him about the room, in a helpless, beseeching way that w:is pitiful to see. It was only the ghost of Lumley's Pard ner that got up Irom it, but the two were always nigher together after that. When Lumley got back to the claim, ami Lumley's Pardner was jut able to crawl about, they came into a wonderful streak of luck. Lumley struck into a big pocket, and there they were, in the turn of a die, rich men. Mining, after all, i a game of chance you buy your ticket, but it does not always win; there are plenty of blanks to every prize. It does not matter the exact amount this prize netted, if 1 had remembered it Lumley was jubilant over his "pile," anx ious to sell out, and leave the mines; so nobody was surprised when his partner bought him out for a good round sum. saying, in his quiet way, that he guessed he'd stay and see the thing through. It was verj' quiet in camp, the morning that Lumley went away. The boys were sorry to lose him, for he had not any but well-wishers among us. Weli, six months went by, and then came a little white letter, "scribed " in a dainty woman's hand, to Lumley's Pard ner. The man trembled all over like a Icadvhcn it was put into his hand, took it into his cabin, and shut fast the door. Within the next half horn- he came out again in a desperate hurry, saddled his mule, and rode oil' down the trail. " Unexpected business !" was his hasty explanation. Could not say how soon he might be back. The news came to us at last by a party ol traders, stopping to noon in camp. Then I knew what those marks of weak ness about his mouth stood for; Lumley had never left the city at all ! He had sat down to the gaming-table, one night, and gotten up from it, the next morning, poorer than he had come into the mines. He had lirst won, then lost, and lost and won again ; and then that last total blank stared him in the face. Lumley could never give up at that. He must win it all back ! Luck was surely in store for him yet! He haunted the gambling-hells, playing recklessly, des perately, so long as he could win enough to keep the ball rolling; pawning his watch, his ring, even his clothing, when other resources failed. So Lumley's Pardner found him heavy eyed, with a seedy llashiness in his dress, marks of dissipation on his fair, womanish face a pretty nearly played-out indi vidual. The blood rushed all over his face, lor the manliness vet left in liim could but feel the shame of that meeting. But there was no backing out now. Lumley's Pard ner took him to one side. " I've heard of you, old man," he said, in hismatter-of-fact way, " and I've come to see you out of this. How much do you say will clear you up, and have a trifle ahead ?" Lumley never raised his eyes. " Old pard," he answered, choking up, " you're a better friend than I deserve. Don't ask me to take any thing from you. I went in with my eyes open, and, thank ing you all the same, I'll have nobody's help out." Lumley's Pardner laid a broad hand on each of the pitifully drooping shoulders. " Old man, when the fever had me down, I'd ha' gone under if it hadn't been for you. So help me God ! I'd rather ha' died than have taken what 1 did at your hands. Do you dare deny me this small return, no ? W at's a paltry sum ot money between you and me and the ' little mother' waitin' at home?" Lumley put down his head upon that, and cried like a baby ; the which, if it be not manly, I like him the better for. These are tears, I am thinking, that are far from disgracing even the eyes of a man. " I'm ashamed of myself, through and through, for what's gone by," were Lum ley's next words, " but I can't give it up now. Matters can't be any worse, and there's a chance of bettering. Perhaps, to-night, I shall win it all back." There were the old willliilnesand pride, and the new fascination of the gaming ta ble. There was no turning him back, no moving him from that resolve. Lumley's Pardner took him by the arm. "Either way, I'm bound to see you through," he said. " Come." So night after night, as Lumley played, ! there stood Lumley's Pardner looking on. with never a word of that little white let ter, his answering message, or the two passengers on board an ocean steamer bound for California. Despite Lumley's hopefulness, luck nev er turned. It was the same feverish un rest and tedious waiting, the sense ol degradation by day, and at night the bril liantly lighted gambling-hell, the excite ment, the fascination, trembling betwixt hope and uncertainty, the frequent pota tions to steady his shaken nerves, and, as the night wore on, uncertainty deepening into failure and disappointment; and each morning Lumley's Pardner led him slowly and silently away, until time, wearing on, brought at last this appeal: For God's sake, old man. when will you let up ?" "So help me heaven, as -ion as I get back two thousand dollars, I swear never to touch cards or dice again." And Lum ley was dead in earnest this time. Still, he would accept nothing from his partner! The night the Ocean Belle was signaled into port, Lumley's Pardner beckoned "Monte Bill" aside (I reckon you have heard of Monte Bill, the best brace-dealer and short-card player west of the old Mis sissippi), and some secret understanding passed between them. In the midst of a game, Lumley's Pard ner left his post, which was something un usual, passing Monte Bill on his way to the door. It was not generally noticed, but as he passed he dropped a small, com pact package into the gambler's hand; then, slouching his sombrero over his eyes, he left the hall. Pausing in the street, Lumley's Pardner looked anxiously down. It would have been dark but for the street lamps, for it was full two hours to moonrise; but down by the wharf shone out the gleam of anew signal-light, which, poised at mast-head, glowered through the dark like the fiery eye of a gigantic Cyclops: the Ocean Belle was in. Ten minutes later, pushing his way through the bustling crowd that thronged the deck, he hurried across the plank and made his way straight to the cabin. The past seemed alia dream, as he stood again with wildly beating heart before a once familiar form familiar still, though bearing the maturer crown of motherhood. Her face was even fairer than of old, blush ing with its own wild-rose tints of loveli ness, her soft eyes shining up in glad ex pectation. The broad sombrero, slouched over his forehead, shaded his features. She saw only bronzed cheeks and a strong, brown beard. The tremor in his voice might have meant ditlidence. " Pardon me, madam, j'ou are I be lievethat is to say I am Lumley's Pard ner." She held out a white hand cordially. "And my husband?" " Is well. I am to fake you to him." He took timidly the hand she extended, awkwardly the little woman thought, and then let it go. " Give me the child." He took the sleeping boy in his arms, and so burdened piloted the way to a car riage close beside the wharf. Putting her inside, he laid the child gentty, almost reverently, upon her lap. "We're to drive round and take up Lumley. It is only a few minutes' ride," One last searching glance from under the protecting sombrero, and he closed the carriage door, mounting to his place beside the driver. Oddly enough, Lumley had just finished a winning game with Monte Bill when Lumley's Pardner came hurriedly in. As he slipped quietly back to his post, Lumley sat eyeing the " pile " twenty five hundred dollars. He put out his hand to rake it up, paused, drew it back, picked up the cards, and began to shuffle for another stake ; not that he had forgot ten his oath, or the woman and child he loved, but a long way ahead of any thing else was the thought that luck had turned that he had only to follow it up and win back all the past. Lumley's Pardner stooped to his ear : "You'd better throw up the game. The ' little mother' and your boy are wait ing here, outside." Lumley started half rose to his feet, looked up into his partner's face, then at the cards, then at the door, then wistfully back upon the cards and the gold. As with a heavy sigh he sunk into his seat again, Lumley's Pardner, dashing the cards from his hand, raked up the stakes and forced the money into Lumlev's Dock et. " How long will you keep your wie and child waiting alone, at night, in a strange city before the door of" a "-amblin"-house?" The thrust struck home. Like a man awakening' from a dream, Lumley sprung up, crushed on his hat, and flew to the door. Once in the little woman's arms he was safe. Lumley's Pardner knew him well enough to be sure of that. He never fol lowed him, but slipped out of the side door, and the next day, saw him back in camp, a trifle pale,and sterner than was his wont, but the clear gray eyes dauntlessly honest and brave. And 1 reckon, to this day, Lumley never knows how much he owes his old mate, or that his Lulie had one true lover, whom he once knew and appropriated to himself in the person of Lumsley's Pardner. Overland Monthly. FACTS ABOUT CHOLERA. The Results of the Government Investi gation into the X.nst Epidemic. Washington, July 2G. By a joint reso lution, parsed in March, 1S74, the Secre tary of War was directed to detail a medi cal otlicer to visit all places where cholera had recently prevailed, collect statistics of every kind relating thereto, and report the same to the President. Surgeon Ely Mc Clellan was detailed for this duty. His report isjnst passing through the Govern ment press. It is an exhaustive review of the whole subject, and covers about 700 pages, and is divided into two parts the lirst representing a complete history of the epidemic ol 1S7J. and the second con taining a history of the travel of the cholera, both here and in Europe, gather ed from all sources. To this is added a list, covering about 200 pages, of a:l books and periodical articles treating on the dis ease. This last was prepared by Surgeon John S. Billings. The report, after di.-i cusing the clinical history of the disease," takes up its causes and sums up all ob served results under seven propositions, devoting considerable space to illustra tion and proof of each. These are as fol lows : 1. That Asiatic cholera is an infectious disease resulting from an organic poison ; which, gaining entrance into the alimen tary canal, acts primarily upon and de stroys the intestinal epithelium. 2. That the active agents in the distribu tion of the cholera noison are the dejec tions of persons suffering from the disease in any of its stages. That in these dejec tions there exists an organic matter, which, at a certain stageof decomposition, is capable of reproducing the disease in the human organization to which it has gained access. 3. That cholera-dejecta coming in con tact with and drying upon any objects, such as clothing, betiding and furniture, willietain indefinitely their power of in fection ; that in this manner a sure trans missibility of the cholera infection is effect ed, and that a distinct outbreak of the dis ease may occur by such means at great distances from the seat of the original in fection. 4. That the specific prison which pro duces the disease known as cholera origi nates alone in India, and that by virtue of its transmissibility through the persons of infected individuals, or in the meshes of infected fabrics, the disease is carried into all quarters of the world. That cholera has never yet appeared in the western hemisphere until after its route of pesti lential march has been commenced in the eastern world, and that its epidemic ap pearance upon the North American conti nent has invariably been preceded by the arrival of vessels infected with cholera, or laden with emigrants and their property from infected districts. 5. That the respiratory and digestive or gans are the avenues through which indi vidual infection is accomplished; that through the atmosphere of infected local ities cholera is frequently communicated to individuals ; that water may be coij tamhiated with the specific poison of chol era from the atmosphere, from surface washings, from neglected sewers, cess pools or privies ; and that the use of wa ter so infected will induce an outbreak of the disease. G. That the virulence of a cholera dem onstration, the contagion having been in troduced into ti community, is influenced by the lrygienic condition of the popula tion, and not by any geological formation upon which they may reside. 7. That one attack of cholera imparts to the individual no immunity to the disease in the future, but that the contrary seems to be established. The precautious of a rigorous quaran tine arc shown to be of paramount impor tance. It is maintained that New York City was saved four times during the sea son under consideration from a visitation of the disease by the measures adopted at quarantine. There was little detention of vessels. All suffering from the disease were removed, the ship thoroughly disin fected and allowed to proceed, and in no instance did new cases occur afterward. The danger from infected clothing of em igrants from districts where the disease prevails is found to be greater than from cases of sickness, as clothes are not reach ed, and often are not unpacked Juntil the owner reaches the interior. Several cases of cholera having thus been transported to interior towns are presented.