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The Passing of Winter.
ijy millie w. cakpen'tek. I. Cometh spring, the poet's dream! Hark! the dash of scudding rain, Then a quick flash and a gleam, And birds' jubilant refrain! l.o! the buttercup's gold vase Soft rains, fall and till it up Fuller to the curved gold edge: Ho! who drink an April pledge? Softly, sunshine, slide and creep To the warm wood nooks, where sleep Trailing arbutu. lit ine To clasp Pallas', brows divine. ir. Cometh summer! On her way Heavy-weighted garland swing: Scent and sweetness! one bright day Nature gives to every thing. Lo! the red heart of a rose: Doth it shield a worm? God knows! Hind it, lady, in your hair Uud and blossom both arc fair. Sleep, O summer sunshine, warm n a land long racked by storm ! See ! on golden acres meet Rye and corn and tlax and wheat ! in. Autumn eometh! Through the land Kings a sound of ruh and rout: Censers flash on every hand Fragrant incense floats about. Gold and scarlet is the wood, Hut the sparrow cherished brood Make no music in her house This is Hacchus's wild carouse. Slow, O drowsy suiihine. fall On the brown grape by the wall That the maid gleans! plum and peach. See her white hands for them reach ! IV. Winter.! Nay, how can we sinir In the bitter winter-time, When the Northern bugles ring To the icicle's cold chime? Song sits in her court, a-cold. Frozen tear-drop gem her eyes, While the snow fall, fold on fold. From the blue-black, barren skie. I'ass, O winter! Lot the spring. With her bell of lilies, ring First thy requiem then with glee Song and summer's jubilee! Graphic. PAULINE. On the dreary evening of a dull No vember d:iy, when the lamps glared faintly with a misty yellow, a cab drew up before one of the houses in an old fashioned London square, and two young la-lies and their luggage were deposited at .he door. Then the door opened, and a-iloiid of light streamed out into the night air, giving a cheery promise of welcome that was not contradicted, for the two girls, ascending the wide staircase, were met on the landing by a tall, stat el- lady, whose stateliness gave w:iy as soon as she saw them, and she embraced them warmly, with alternate kisses and tears. "Aunt Mathilde," exclaimed the younger and darker of the two, "how glad I am to sec you!1' "And I also,1 echoed her companion. "How can 1 ever thank you enough for giving me this great pleasure! When Madame said that Mrs. Staumore had invited me also, I could not believe it."' '""Jail me Aunt Mathilde, if yon please, my dear,"' said Mrs. Staumore';"? whilst the tear stood in her eyes and her lip-quivered. The girl looked up in surprise: .she had never seen the stately lady before "1 Knew your grandmother," answer ed J.Irs. Stanmore, abruptly; "we were once like sisters. And now as you have had a long journey, and must be in need of refreshment, go and take off your wraps, and make haste down to tea.1 Then the girls went away, and the stately old lady sat down by the draw ing-room lire. She leaned back in her chair, and closed her ayes. "So like Paul, 11 she murmured. " Paul's grandchild working away in a boarding-school! That must not be if I can help it. Paul and Nina's grand child, f don't wonder that Millv took a fancy to her. If she returns after the holidays it will be her own fault and not mine." So mused the lady of the house ; and her thoughts went back to the days when she and the French girl's grandmother had been vorn allies, until love stepped in and made a quarrel, and the' never spoke again. It was the old story. Two girls in love with the same hero, and he chose one, and the other was left disconsolate. Disconsolate only for a time, for Mathilde de Brenil married an Englishman, to whom she became deeply attached. Of Paul and his wife she lost sight. They, after a "straggle with poverty, both died, and Miss. Stanmore had well nigh forgotten them, when suddenly the name of the little French governess struck her, and the result was that Pau line Valency was invited to London for the Christmas holidays. rooms discussed their reception. And as days crept on, in the delightful twi light hour before the lamps were light ed, bit by bit of the past was unrolled; and Aunt Mathilde found herself grow ing younger through the history of her early life. "It wasatllochfeld,' .sesaid, "that your grandmother :md I were at school, and formed a school-girl friendship. I have often thought that I should like to see the place again the old convent looking school-house, the public gar dens, the soldiers, and the students. Ah! I remember every stone of the place. I believe I should have made a pilgrimage there if I had not been too old to go so far alone."1 "do now, Aunt Mathilde, and take us with you,'1 said Mildred, suddenly, whilst Pauline's eyes shone with a great light, though she said nothing. ""We might manage it in Pauline's holiday," continued Mildred; "she has two months at midsummer' "Pauline will have no more holidays,'" returned Mrs. Stanmore, shortly. "Poor Pauline!"' ejaculated Mildred. "That is to say,"' explained Mrs. Stanmore, "she will have no occasion for anv. I have arranged that she shall not go back to Madame, and that I shall have two children instead of one to live with me." Mildred sprang up and clapped her hands; then she kissed Mrs. Stanmore vehemently, saving that "she was the dearest, best Aunt Mathilde that ever lived, and was repaying goad for evil, for Paul had certainly behaved very badly." Nonsense,"' said Aunt Mathilde; ! "what has that to do with it?" Pauline had listened in bewilderment, and now was sobbingat Mrs. Stanmore's feet. " It is for Pauline to say yes or no," said Mrs. Stanmore, gently stroking the girl's hair. " Yes, -es, 'es!"' exclaimed Mildred, "of course it is yes." " You are too good, Madame ' be gan the French girl. "Aunt Mathilde, if you please," in- tle warmly, "I can scarcely forgive the Prussians." terrupted Mrs. Stanmore ; "and I am not good. It is all a it should be; and! have not so much to be angry for after all, since my life has been full of happiness "Yes, it is indeed all as it should be; and in the summer we will go to 1 loch- Held," added Mildred. douhtfl'l. Aunt Mathilde said nothing, but she began to have misgivings. "Was the old story of herself and Nina going to be played out over again? Sometimes she thought the lieutenant liked one girl, sometimes the other, and sometimes she doubted if he cared for either. If I.., U. 1..,....... ATM.l I' ll uu umicui ijuiimihuo, juihuum a was presented with many pretty speeches, whilst Pauline's was laid down I. . ,.r l- ?c . ii i . nesiiaimgiy, as ii ne mougni it im probable that she would care to accept it. Certainly Aunt Mathilde had detected him, in the midst of his gay speeches to Mildred, glancing furtively to see if Pauline had noticed his llowers. Put Pauline simply thanked him, and never even touched the bouquet until he had departed; then she took it to her own room, and no one ever saw it aain. So it went on. Mildred and the lieu tenant were on friendlier terms than ever, and she never seemed so happy as when he was near; they had their live ly jokes together, and sang duets, and strolled under the lime trees; whilst there was a restraint between him and Pauline, although at times it seemed as if he were anxious to win her favor. Aunt Mathilde became more and more bewildered, and at length decided it would be best to quit Hochfeld before matters grew more serious. "And what shall 1 do without my lieutenant?" asked Mildred. " Oh, Aunt Mathilde, you cannot be so cruel as to spoil all my pleasure! Do stay a little longer! " leave Hochfeld so soon, and then per haps in time it would all be forgotten! At length, exhausted with her emo tion, and overcome by the heat of the day, she fell asleep, with her head rest ing on the grassy mound. " What is the matter with every one?" said a lively voice. Pauline started up. " Here you are," said Mildred, "with your eyes red and swollen, and I found ( the lieutenant at our lodgings looking as white as a ghost, and scarcely able to make his ailkux properly. "What is the matter?" "1 have been asleep," answered Pau line, evasively. "What were you doing before you went to sleep? And why have you sent the poor lieutenant away when you know that he has taken your heart with him?" "Milly!" " Pauline, my dear, do you think I am stupid? Have I not seen exactly how matters stood, whilst you and Aunt Mathilde have been blind and ro mantic? There is not the slightest ne cessity for romance and self-sacrifice. You care for Lieutenant von Alton. I ! do not except as the husband of my HERE AND THERE. fou tiii: sake of the fast. The girls in their comfortable bed- iiociikki.i). It was exactly as Mrs. Stanmore had described it, in spite of the many years that had been added to its age. The landmarks: and Aunt Mathilde. and tin- girls made satisfactory expeditions, and paused at different points of interest. The school-house was a school-house no longer, but was turned into a pen sion; and here. Mrs. Stanmore took up her abode in a pretty suite of rooms looking upon the old garden, not alter ed from former days, with the fountain and suu-dial in their old places. The university, too, had not changed its position, nor the old church, nor the public gardens; and many a house Avas pointed out as having in old days con tained good-Jricnds of Aunt Mathilde. " Here,' said she, waving her parasol energetically in the direction of a flight of steps " here your grandmother and I stood and watched the torchlight pro cession at poor Herman Rozenhabi's funeral;" and as she spoke her parasol struck a young lieutenant of calvary, who was walking leisurely along the street, full in the face. "A thousand pardons!" said she. Put the poor lieutenant was for the moment blinded ; the blow had been sharp, and the eye already showed sym toms of swelling. Aunt Mathilde was in dismay. "What could she do? She was profuse in apol ogies and explanations. The Lieutenant accepted the situation pleasantly; cards were exchanged, and he promised to call upon her the next day and report himself. And not only the next day, but very frequently, did he find his way to the old pension with the charming garden, for Lieutenant von Alten was far from home, and had not many acquaintances at Hochfeld. Mrs. Stanmore found him very de lightful and very useful, for he was ready to accompany her and her nieces as she called both girls anywhere and everywhere. Mildred did not hesitate to express her favorable opinion of him, and was on the best possible terms at once. Pauline was more reserved in her praises. 1 Y'ou will not speak well of him be cause he is the enemy of your country," said Mildred, laughing. " You would not fall in love with him for worlds, so you keep out of the way and leave him to me, as I am influenced by no such re vengeful dispositions." Pauline blushed, and answered, a lit- A SCKI'KISE. Lieutenant von Altn was overwhelm ed with sorrow when he heard of Mrs. Stanmore's determination. He had been in a dream and had imagined, people usually do in that condition, that his dream would last forever; but thi sudden announcement had effectually awakened him. He was standing on the balcony out 3ide Mrs. Stanmore's window, waiting 7 n for the return of the party, who hai gone out for a walk. Presently the sit ting-room door opened and some person came into the room. Not one of those he wished to see, he thought, for heha stationed himself so as to command al the approaches to the house; therefore. he did not move, nnd the person drew: chair up to the t... do and began to write 1 hen he was tempted to glace inside. It was Pauline. In a moment he was at her side. Pauline started. '.Mademoiselle, " said he, "1 am happy to find you alone. It is so sud den, this going away. Oh, mademoi selle! 3'ou must know you must have seen. You are kind your heart wil plead you will have pity!" He was much agitated ; but Pauline, who had been nerving herself for what she expected must come, answered quietly, "Certainly; I will help you to the utmost. You may depend upon me." The liey.tenant looked as though h did not qdite comprehend, and he went on as well as his agitation would per mit. " Mademoiselle must surely know un heal! my love." " I have never doubted it. Mildred is worthy of it." " Mildrea !" exclaimed Lieutenant von Alten. "It is not of her, but of yourself I would speak. Is it possible you have not known?" And as he spoke a new light fell upon Pauline, and she read aright much that she had misinterpreted. And for a mo ment a great joy filled her heart, but it was only for a moment; the next a chill ran through her and she started up with a cry of distress. It was the old story over again ; and should she requite her benefactress by bringing grief upon her niece? Never! and she looked up reso lutely at Lieutenant von Alten. "Adieu, monsieur," she said; "do not seek to see me again : it is a pit- that' we ever met;" and she glided away, leaving the lieutenant standing motion less with despair and confusion. THE CEMETERY AT HOCHFELD. There is abeautiful cemetery at Hoch feld, whereiu is the grave of Paul and Nina Valency, who died within a week of each other in the year IS . Pauline had often visited this ceme tery of late, and beside the grave of her grandparents had communed with her heart, and tried to still its wild tumult. To-day her first impulse was to hasten thither, and, sinking down on the flow ery turf, to pour, as it were, her grief into the cars of those who were lying beneath. She grieved for herself, and for Mil dred also, and wished that this second Paul had never come between them. Still, as far as she was concerned, Mil dred should have no cause for sorrow. How thankful she was that thev were to friend. I have no desire to marry a foreigner, but it is quite natural that you should wish to do so, in spite of his being a Prussian ; and, indeed, I think it the very best plan that could be de vised for settling your national differences." Pauline sprang to her feet. " Here, Lieutenant von Alten," said Mildred, calling to a tall figure lingering in the distance. " 1 have put every thing right for you. There was just a little mistake, as there always will be if people persist in paying attention to one person when they are in love with another. Fortunately in this case there has been no harm done." Jean JJuti ci'ur, in the Quiver lor December. Herzegovina- Modern Geography. ' Who is this Herr Zegovina, any way?" said a young lady the other even ing at a mixed party: ' is. he the new tenor that came out with Titiens, or is he in the Salvini line?' " Why, how absurdly, you do talk, Phebe!" replied another young lady; "just as if every one didn't know that it was a new sort of dress. r It's shirred and gored, and cut bias, and folded on itself, and trimmed with knife pleating of the material." Here the young lady was interrupted by a corroborative voting man, who re marked that she was just talking. " Her zegovina," said the gentlemen, " is French for her pull-back, you know." Another young man, who had had the advantage of foreign travel, set them all right with the loftiness of con scious superiority. "The Herzegovina" he exclaimed, "is the national dunce of the Hungarian peasantry, like the caehuca, or the bo lero, or the laiulango, or the ivanz ties Vaehes, or the balalaika, you know. Many a time have I seen them bound ing in its airy measures, while the heavy minarets and mimosas waved their tops m "I beg your pardon," observed mother innocent who had been abroad, ' I think you are confounding it with the Ilogoveri.nia a sort of polka which I saw danced by the Hungarians, and also by the Dalmatians and Darda nelles. Herzegovina is a light Albanian wine, a good deal like uudesneimer. Ah, -ou are right,"' admitted the first traveler; " the similarity of sound de ceived me." The explanation did not, after all rove satisfactory, and the young ladies who thirsted after knowledge prosecut ed still further inquiries. A truthful young man responded : " I thought from the fuss the papers were making, it was a new sort of game, ike bunko." Finally an appeal was made to the j wealthy and experienced old gen tleman who was the host of the even ing, who, from his wide knowledge of men and things, was supposed to be well posted on every subject. " Kun away, children," said the good and wise old man, as he beamed blandly on his two fair daughters; " run away, and don't bother your heads about the currency question." - - w 1 There is a not very old gentleman, iving not many miles from Herkimer, who, in addition to the fine landed es tate he possesses, has a most estimable wife and large family of children. lie is in the habit of replying to matters concerning his domestic afiairs, " Ask the old lady." Recently a stranger ailed, and seeing the fine group of youngsters, asked if they were all his children. He replied, "Ask the old adv." "We are informed he asked no more questions. U-crcimer (A. i-) Courier. Jesse Pomekov, the boj'-mnrderer of Boston, has confessed that for years he was a devoted student of dime literature. The publication of this fact in connec tion with the statement that James T. Fields has visited Pomeroy in his cell is designed, it is presumed", to work up sympathy for the boy. A kemakkahle instance of calcula tion was recorded at Aylmer, Canada, where a barber named Johnson, for a, bet of f0 cents, ran under the ears of a railway train that was passing at a rap- I.I i . . TT T . i in i aie or speed, ne won the wager, j though he lost the heel of one boot by a wheel that came unpleasantly close as he emerged. The man who lost the bet said he had expected to win and get a couple of dollars for attending the in quest. The policy- of keeping the family wealth together, so strongly developed in the elder John Jacob Astor, has been adhered to by his son. As the late "Win. 15. Astor was the trustee, not the owner of his father's estate, he has sim ilarly willed his own property in trust to two of his sons for the benefit of their issue, they, like he, being wealthy in their own right at the time of their father's decease, since thereby they have now become possessors of their grandfather's property. "With the pro verbial longevity of the family, it is therefore probable that many years will elapse before the Astor wealth is much divided. An Englishman, writing to the Spedn tor from Southern California, says a house there does not cost any thing to 111:1113- people in the summer, for the simple reason that they do not have one ; and in the rainy season one can be built that will do very well for H. " I saw a man the other day sitting on a chair at a table eating his dinner under a tree, with a stove on one side and a bedstead on the other, and all the furniture of a house around him, and not a house within five miles, and he looked very jolly. I have heard of houses without lire-places: but I was rather surprised the other daj when I came upon a neat fire-place, with a good chimney and every thing, and no house. This life agrees very well with my health, and, in spite of hard work, etc., I rapidly in crease in weight." IIhhily interesting results bearing upon the germination of seeds have recently-been developed by certain experi ments conducted byM. Cloth. (Irooves were cut in a cake of ice, into which seeds of various species were placed and then covered over by plates of ice. The whole was then removed to a cool cellar and allowed to remain from January until the May following. At this time it was found on examination that many of the seeds had sprouted and penetrated the ice with their roots. It is the opin ion of M. Uloth that the heat needed for the process of growth was generated by the seeds themselves in the progress of their development, and that this heat was sufficient to melt the ice about the roots, and permit them to extend their axes. The subject has given rise to much controversy and opposing theo ries. Ax English journal, Land and Water, supplementing the prediction of the weather prophets that the present win ter is to be one of unusual severity, maintains the fact that the winter of 1776, exactly one century ago, was quite an uncommon one in the matter of frost. The latter part of the year 177o was not unlike the present year wet. Pepys informs us that the winters of 1GG0, 1GG1 and 1GG2 were exceptionally mild. There was no cold at all ; the roads were dusty, the rose-bushes were full of leaves, the flies fiew up and down, and such a time was never known before. On Jan. lf, 1GG2, a general fast was or dered by Parliament to pray for more casonable weather, warmth and every other thing being like the middle of June. At Hanover, N. II., for over -10 years has lived Daniel Hlaisdell, Treasurer of Dartmouth College during all that pe riod, and President of the savings and national banks for the hist dozen years universally respected for unswerving probity and rigid honesty; last August, he died ; now he is proved to have de frauded the college out of 8:50,000. His position as President of the banks ren dered it an easy matter for him to palm off the bank's bonds on the confiding college financiers as the funds of that institution when they made their annual examination, and the fraud might have been kept up almost indefinitely, but for the appearance of death as a detective. The beginning of it all is thought to have been in Mr. Blaisdell's careless ness about keeping kis books up, in con sequence of which he gradually drifted behindhand, then unfortunate specula tions in real estate, and living rather beyond his income. His family have placed all his property at the disposal of the College, and will do all they can to atone for his sins.