Richland beacon. [volume], March 15, 1873, Image 1

About Richland beacon. [volume] (Rayville, La.) 1869-1890

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___ICELAND BEACON
1)Publis. hd everyrtsoiAvetsig
t! :1 Yoruinll.
IRICHEANI) BEACON. -
,EY -P. MANGHAMI, ~~
Edi1W and Propiletor . . . l
£IAT da~it &n f alakr Ite atasi .uD . *6IA C 100 1 itgi
e n'1'erinI f StabbscripticutI :
Of Iw opy one year............ . . . Ll.noII.)Ill~
lewcopy, six miii h .........l.. 2.ii" ibcrae. et atauIe minm. t
Ten copies. in clubs one year, each...., 0 41
Singl copies ..... I
o m All enrsul ripionsth lisr until thin adlvance. * Iaih rn~ii1~·iiin t oft. Ito lazit1. itt ii
ion isi pad. I 1 ýV.O..N 1* flsýIIIA[II" MA '(.1Ii C. 1- :º. i1 HOL ii, li
Miscellaneous Selections.
JOIHN RBED'8 THOUGHTS.
There's a mist on the meadow below; the her
ring-frogs chirp and cry;
It's chill whe the sun down, and the sod is not
The worhl is a lonely place, It eems, and I don't
know why.
I see, as I lean on the fence, how wearily trudges
han
With the tiel ,r the, Spring in his bones, like a
weak anwl elderly ruonl
I've had it many a time, Ibt we must work when
we can
But day after day to toil, and ever from sam to
sun,
Though up to the season's front and nothing be I
left unadene,
Is ending at twelve like a clock, and beginning
again at one.
The frogs make a onrrowful noise. and yet it's
the time they mate;
There's something comes with the Spring, a
lightness or 'ele a we'llht;
There's soasething coan's with the Spring, and it
seems to me it's fate.
It's the hankering after a life that y,.tl never have
learned to know;
It's the discontent with a life that is always thus
and so
It's the woderin g what we are, and whets' we
are going to go.
My life is lucky enough, I fancy, to most men's
eyes,
For the more a family grows, the oftener some
one dies,
And now it's run on so long, it couldn't he other
wise.
And sister Jane and myself, we have learned to
claim anl yieldl;
She rules in the house at will, and I in the barn
and geld;
So, nigh uion thirty years!-as if written and
signed and seitaled.
I couldn't change if I would; I've lost tie how
and the when;
One lay my time will be ap, and Jane will be
the mistress then,
For single women are tough, and live down the
single men.
She kept me so to herself, she was always the
stronger hand,
And my lot showed well enough, when I looked
around in the land;
But lntmlred and sore at heart, and I don't quite
understand.
I wonder how it had been if I'd taken what others
need,
The plague, they say, of a wife, the care of a
youmger breed ?
If Edith lneasanton now were near me as Eatith
Beed?
Suppose that a son well-grown were there In the
jdace of lhan,
And ffelt myself in him, as I was when my work
I shoold feel no older, are, and certainly more
a man!
A daughter, besides, in the house; nay, let there
We never can overdo the luck that can never be,
And what has come to the most might also have
come to me.
I've thought, when a nelshbor's wife or his child
was care led away,
That to have no loss was a gain, but now-I can
hardly say;
He seems to possess them still, under the ridges
of clay.
And share and share in a life is, somehow, a dif
ferent thing
From etroperty held by deed, and the riches that
I fiel n close in te breast!-I think it must be
the Spring.
I'm drying up like a brook when the woods have
been cleared arounmd;
You're sure it must always run, you are used to
the sight and sound
Bu it shrinks until there s olylel a stony Atit In
the ground.
There's nothing to do but to take the days as they
comen sadgo
And not worry wth thegh that nobody likes
to asbow,
For people oelm talk of t ththgs they want
to know.
There's times when the way is plain, and every
thing nearly right,
And then of a des y stand Ilke a man with
aoloadd sight;
A bh seems ofka a beast, in the duskof a fall
tag oght.
I t move; my Joints are sti; the weather is
breeding rain,
And Dan is hrrying on, with his plow-team ap
to the lanme.
I'll go to the village store;i d rather not talk
with Jane.
_esprd ·ylesr In Atentic far March,.
MADAME DUFOUS.
"I womina who abe Is !" said Walter
Drummond, looking back as he left the
churchyard.
" Who ?' asked Kate Hyalop with a dis
ple d air.
'That lady n the blue and d abawl,
who mst opposdte to a In edbr ," he am
mwued.
"Oh! that red-beaded woman r" ladlS
maently. 'Why she was tr , el
eame; what doelm so ld e be et"
"But I wonder who she Is, and where
aI comesm rom," resaeted Walter with
"Renlly, Walter, you are very odd!l
What ooneera ea it be o yours, ad why
should you woder about e aIt all" a
rrned Kate with iesht maner; ad her
betrebi, ikg the hint, let the mate9a
te., where ty all heed, warn Jst,
a dull English vlle wlthout a history,
ad Wltgier's was a ly l atural,
mader the drmiie
Sooa the whole p- was Itr with the
wsm that a Madam Dubur, the yrety
eeman who had mat on Sunday In
ff.'Donehe led Dyed oa t she wea
s Strr it in aman er so oestly
a to be ext t wtOolbed.
Te mtSasgr -ame rg .ybto church,
wM geehimed brmI eimg herbver
in* qu. l*rrI . ... It
sw M te as  ar to yLhd
I:L a u ie-- -"ai LmaI,-esri
al -te t waschh em ea
5o IOw ladese Dueser wa mrkes tws a
slme tdapdto bhe l irhe a -- -
au ding mid, t Urn l s at
L eor Nu Dwas aR"-
areda s red b end bwes a di as
hle oi th wh Jt l5 r m hain
sh a awt kinr dthem, set
m sao unr m Lao o usa her
moSher wasL wr vcty;
t- action she had with her hands, "Miss
Kate Hyslop? She is tlge lee-maiden
bound in chains! the makes me shudder
as if she was a ghost."
"Or a detective." said Kate with ens
phasis; when some good-natured friend
reorted to her what the new-comer had
The word struck. It was bitter and
cruel; but then bitter things and cruel
always do strike; and Miss Ilvslop's
sharp surmise made the roand of the par
ish underhand. tolks whispering among
themselves, "She is not so far out, isn't
our Vicar's young lady: and maybe the'
detec.tive will light on our fine Madaname
some day, at last." But no one said this
to htrself, and the pretty strange r still
lived in the sunshine and nourished herself
on incense.
Walter Dlrummond's habits werechang
ing. From a docile, steady, methodical
young man, in to time, provelbially good- I
nattared if not very bright, and as intno
cently candid as a child, he was fast be
coming irregular. uncertain, and reticent.
ll. was always out, and no one knew
where: nor would heexplain when he cmne
home, silent and depressed as no one had
ever seen himn before. Neither his mother's I
business nor his fiancee's pleasures touch
ed him.
Kate looked on at this change, and I
said nothing. She had evidently her own
mind on the matter, and Mrs. Drummond i
who knew her, was quite aware of the
future preparing for her boy. But she I
wisely left them to fight i. out between 1
them, knowing that the struigle had to
c 'me, if not about one thing then about
another; and Kate had to be crowned c
queen when all was over.
" Walter, I want you to ride with me a
to-day," said Kate one morning.
" I am very sorry," he answered hur
riedly; "I cannot to-day."
'No! Why?"
" I have the boat to look to," he said.
She fixed her cold eyes on him steadily, I
and her look brought the blood into his a
face.
"" Are you going to visit Madame Du
four again?" she said scornfully. " You I
need not speak, Walter. your looks are an- 1
swer enough," she added. " Pray don't
add falsehood to the list of your lately
acquired accomplishments. It is what I
have longsuspected; what. knowing you, I
and how weak you are, I foresaw from I
the first."
"And what is it you suspected and fore- 1
saw from the first, may I ask?" said Wal
ter angrily.
" Why should I say it? You know as
well as I ; and I don't care to dig in plw- a
ed ground," she answered slowly.
" I will not allow your Insinuations!"
said Walter with vehemence.
"Will you not? But if I choose to
make them ?"
"Then I will not listen to them," he
said.
" Your friend shall, Walter," said Kate
deliberately.
" Kate, you are trying me too far!" he
cried. "What folly is this you have taken
"No folly at all, Walter-on my side.
I will forbear to characterize what you a
have taken up, on yours. I only know a
the fae, that all these long absences of
yours-these mysterious affairs which
oceupy you from morning to night-me a I
simply that you are spending the time a
you deny to us with this Madame Dufour.
Isay no more, and insinuate no more-no I
more at least,"she added wirh a slight
sneer, "than your own conscience ech- -
Oes." f
" And If I do see Madame Dufour at
times. am I not master of my own ac
tieons?" said Walter.
" I also of my own thoughts," she re
plied.
" You are free to be your own mistress
for all time, and in all ways, so far as I
am concerned," said Walter indignantly,
a great hope irradiating his face as he
spoke. I
" Thanks," she answered, her monoto
nous voice as calm as ever. " You meant e
that for magnanimity, I daresay; but 1
shall not accept it. I always have been,
and always mean to be my own mistress I
under all circumstances; you know that, I
Walter. But we have wandered from our
point-will you ride with me toV-da?" '
"I told you before, I canot, ' said
Walter sullenly.
"Ver welt,' sheanswered; but neith
er shall dme Dufour."
She rose on this and walked steadily
and quietly out of the room,Ivins Wl
ter wth thesoetion that a thondgboit
had fallen at his feet.
Kate had seen clearly and spoken truly.
Walterhad carried to the beautitfl stran
ger the lnner wealth of a nature which,
until now, had been given to no one. He
ad engaged 6imet to Kate ayslop two
years ago, it is true; but it was a thing
that had been done for him, more thanu
one whhkh he had voluntarily chosen for
bimseitf His paremrs wished it; Kate's
bher had wished it; and Kate herselft
wtped it-which cleched the matter.
rthe best, however, Kate was only to
bi like a sister; not always so niee, and
not always so dear.
When Madame Dutfour came, the
ebalned fbmntain leaped into life and melo
dy. To say that be loved her is to say
little. It was adoration more than comr
moa love. He loved her as he had never
loved befoueas he had no prvision he
could baveever loved at all. And bshe
well she iat piayd, ad then shelernt.
He was "her boy, she used to say with
those sweet llof hers that looked as if
they had not bee in existence more than
twenty r at moset-Kate H a l
was d wbe was long peat y, and
pdt y" sad te yoth- just two
tar oldr than she ooked-loaged to
tidl b that. If hi was a boy to hrIn the
Iteaiy o his dewdou, the nethI
of hs persunariy, ho was a man to -
alt la the p on and pomwer of is love.
t nomw hatwsasktedet d? t
Le to ewhh Kate's not
It weoo  ibes i. He i hose wi
to do; ablandonMa Douor Cbsesk
with his bds;tee, d to eldt the em
he loel btter tlha his lo-ed If lso,
i neas i hel her, she w l was so
Sabde Mm dared not even bit at
M blov-or he mus t app~t r
,ad, bremk his I wh et med , s
sIe e a whos oLu D sf her lofor
At lmee-ntia he rushed of io Elm
ta m Id  Id am mome what
Was hesd Half , sel site
8eti, sndke h lying, hald lee
asw, Dehor , was dn Dhher
as abeet wan dyo -drese, a - the
eed eIvet, wed win l sau d bweis,
and a largeh bowl of old Venan
bbal e . It was ethese k ed laeria
-I le s "Tad dranke h a ma -- Es
H lohad wht is talled a wholesome
uI detll and liked cheese and beer.
AAh, mybo7!" she am with her a
reusing acceat and young-motherly man
ner, and holding out both her hands to
m Las heame ln, bat not riMli to re
ealve him. "Toujours leblenveunl"
"H Bow kind yo are to let me come,"
stammered Walter, flinging himself on a
footstool by her side. lie was pale and
agitated, but his eyes told the old story
as eloquently as they had always told it.
"llHw can I ever thank you for all your
kindness to me?"
" By not assuming that I have been
kind at all," she raid: "or." lightly
touching his shoulder with her fan, "by
putting it the other way, Mr. Walter, and
counting me grateful to you."
The) oung man lun hback his head:
Ma:ulame Dufour's fair face flushed, and
her eyes drooped at the love that was in
his.
lie took her hand and carried it to his i
lips. "Better than the wealth of the
world !" he murmured in a low voice:
but she, playfully pulling one of hi
brown curls, said in a pretended anger I
that was more bewitching than evetwr her
kindness, "That is what you deserve,
naughty boy ! You presume too much, I
mon ami."
Just then a ring came to the fron' door.
"'Tiens! who can th at be?" she cried,
with surprised eyebrows.
Walter first crimsoned like a schoolboy
caught, and then turned pale like a man
before whom is a struggle unto death.
lie knew who it was, clearly enough; i
and Madame Dafour read his knowledge I
in his face.
So. the battle had come, had it? Bien ! i
She was ready.
She never raised herself from her loung- d
Ing attitude, but even curled hers-lf
round into softer lines. The tender man
ner grew more tender, the n.weet. low
voice more caressing, the creeping touch
of her long white hand more velvety, as 1
it first pushed back the golden fringe tluat
shadowed her forhead, then rested on Wal- I
ter's chestnut head ; the tremulous facet
no longer dimpled with smiles or quiver- i
ed with sympathy, but took on itelf at
mask half moc.king, half impassive, and I
wholly irritating to an antagonist; and t
then bliss Hyslop was ushered into the I
room, to find the siren in her most dan- 1
gerous mood, surrounded by her most ,
bewitching accessories, with her own I
lover, who was also her rival's, sitting ut
her fee', worshipping.
' Miss Hyalop! how very kind !" said t
Madame DIufour, in a pretty, languid'
voice. "A rare pleasure, but none the t
less welcome," she aided, offering her
hand.
"I came for Mr. Drummond, Madame
Dufour; not to pay you a visit." said
Kate, in her stoniest manner. "Walter, I
you are wanted at home."
"Poor Walter ! I hope he is not to be
scolded very severely at home," said I
Madame Dufour, with a mocking accent.
" Who wants me?" asked Walter indif 1
ferently. 1
" I," said Kate. 1
" Your pleasure?" was Walter's reply, t
not looking up.
" I prefer not to discuss my affairs in I
public,' said Ka*e. "'1 want you; that I
is enough; so, if you please, Walter,
come; and at once."
" I am engaged." said Walter; " I can
not."
" Madame Dufour, I must ask your as
sistance," then said Kate, turning to her I
rival. " Will you kindly command Mr.
!)rummond to obey me?'
" What an extraordinary proposition !"
laughed the siren. "What do you take
meTor, Miss Hyslop ? II
"What do I take you for?" repea ed a
Kate, very slowly, and eyeing her keenly.
" Well, I might take you for many things 'a
-for an actress may; or an adventuress; t
for arunaway; perhaps for a woman who ,
ought to be-where shall I say ?--n Mill- 1
bank for forgery, like that Clara Bell the I
papers were so full of just before you d
cane here; or I might take you for an d
hones: woman, intending no evil to any
one, and carefhl to avoid scandal. You
see, Madame Dufour, a stranger as you I
are may be anything. Who knows?"
During Kate's speech Madame Du
four's face had not changed a
muscle, save the faintest quivering of her
upper lip, and the sudden starting of big
drops both on it and on her brow.
"You have a Iertile fancy, Miss
Hyslop," she drawled out with a little
laugh. " Really your roll-call of posslbil
ities Is so crowded, I cannot remember
half my probable characters."
' Have you taken leave of your senses,
Kate*" demanded Walter sternly.
" 4o; but you have," she replied, as
sternly. "Again I ask, Walter, will you
leave Madame Dufour and come with
me?"
"And again I answer, I will not." said
Walter taking the long white hand in his.
" You have made It n ry, Kate, that
some one should protect Madame from in
yaou very wise. However, your wisdom
or you: folly is no business of mine. I
have done my duty; and yo must act as
you choose.'
Without another word she turned
round, and went out; and as she shut the
street-door afterher Madam Dufour sank
into Walter's arms la a violent It of sob
bing and weeping; and Walter, holding
her to his hart, kissed away her tears,
and told her that be loved her better than
life itself, and that he would devote hit
life to her service, now aad for ever.
"Dear boy!" she msaid, at length, smil
ing through the disorder of her pason.
'It was worth the anguish ofenduring
her insolence to know that I have such a
ureux chevalier-that I have such a gal
lant soul from so ungenlal a fate !"
And while this scene was talng
place Kate was wakin homewar
throngh the Iae, muttering, half aloud,
" I wonder if that shaft struck true! 1
eaId aot read her hae. I wonder if It is
she, afterall! That foolish flow! But
Lwilnltlet him go. allthesame. He
suite me; ad be will -n frget that
wicked woman when he lads out what abe
is, ifsheisasl bellevehertobe. If she
is not--"
But this thought displased her, and
she pat It fom he r to indulgethe dream
that she was what a ertatn leter-re
eeived that mamng from London In an
swer to one of inql from her tochlag
a suspicIon she had trlaed from the
Mist-gave great caus to suappops
Katewas so r wte In hergsneraton
that she oald held h we. Having
at her shbolt, eald to walt the
mresult. A rdl, when Walter rs
tamed hme latalila evealng, she re
oelved hIam with the quiea stoidity com
ma to hr d mothetr by wrd or look
made tshe mtssest rerenae to the stormy
seema that had tahenpaeat Elm Cottage
that . 8 ted, too,uthe re
wore charged; and -aled golden
opinions for her own pat for the gene'
rans aectlon they d she displayed to
wards one so austieory.
"Oh! Ikuow him. Hewilleome back
to his better self a soon as this horrid
ereatmure ha gone and go she shall," she
said, milg, while Mrs. Drummnd
ksed he tmearly, and Vicar called her
" bleassed amoang women."
"Madame,"'!hhe aid to Mrs. Drummond
two or three days after this, during which
they hadscareely seen Walter' nor had
she noticed a crtain letter of his, giving
her baek her freedom, an I breakilag of
theproposed msrriage: "I want you to
ask Madanme I )ufour to dinner t'-:aor.
row.'
"My. love!'" aid the Viecar'; wit' in a,
tone l attoni-hIment: -'why havethat odi
ouis woman hie ' "
'"Iio noit ask me. pray." she answered.
S"I wih it."
"Welll. my dear. of c'ulrse vo know we
all study your wishes in everytlhing." said
Mrs. I)runenond humblr. "I alim sure. if 1
you like i , I have no objection; and I su.p
po-e pal wiall have none."
"hanks. A gentlenman is eomning front
London," then sai Kate intdif;.rentlv.
''"What is the neaningof this. my boy?" I
asked ,prett Ma.lame Dulour. when thel
servant brought in a note tromi the Vicar- <
age. requesting the pleal-sure of her con-.
pany at dhinner to-nmorrow at haltf past six
o'clock.
Walter was startled, too. What did it
tmean? liat his father and mother taken
to heart how things st.e)l with hime: and i
were' they prei.ared to receive her hle love'd
as their own ?
"S:hall I go?" the.n asked M~iadlme.
`" lh, ye .: yes!" exelaimecd Walter. i
'"You wish it. sly Iy?"'' 1
"Wish it ! D)o I wish t º live in heaven !"
lie criel. "'lon't you know it is heaven to 1
Ien where von are?" t
"'lBt thi terrible Mi-s Kate: will she
like to see me'?"t
"O)lh : don't you know that my mnuther h
would not have askLCe you else.?" answered
Walter innocently. ":Kate is the mnistress t
of the Vieara:e, not my mother."
'Andl she will not iniult me again? She a
will not pumnish ne, Waiter, for wh it II
cannot hleilp--your love for me; and"--in f
a lower voicce. :t siay. sweet, tremulous
voice--"mine for you?"
)On his knee's betore her.his fresh, young.
fervid a.we turned upward to hiers as she
bent so gracefully. ,o tenderly towardl
him, his glad eyes dark and ael ,ist, with I
the passivnate love which at last had found c
its homelu, Walter poured forth his thanks, .
his adoration, his protestatioe.s there was I
nothilng to fear. and hIls assurance of de-'
fence, in a breath : and Madame ISulfur. c
smniling, radiant, lovely, turned to her t
writing-table and wrote her acceptance of t
the invitation on pink scented paper with t
a golden mlonograun and coronet on the
top.
V You see." she said., with a pretty laugh, It
pointing it out to Walter. "I ant really a I
countes : but this Is the only sign of my c
state in which I indulge myself. A coun
teas with a couple of maids in a remote r
English village!"
The gentleman from London came, true t
to his time; and Kate took it on herself t
to show hin the one local lion, namely, i
the church, with its old monuments, its y
fine Norman arch, its quaint carvings, and a
the like. Their talk was interesting f
meanwhile; but it was not on the things
they went to see ; and a listener might
have heard, " Madame Dufour," " Clara
B1ell," "forgery." "actress," "clever es
ca:pe," " known bad character," uttered t
more than on'e. But it came at last to a
conclusion. the gentleman saying warmly.
"But after all, miss, you have been the
cleverer of the two," as they turned up i
the l:uae to the Vicarage, to dress for din
ner-and Madamne )Dufour.
Exhetly at the half-hour she came; more
enticing than ever, thougeht Walter, as
he flew into the hall to receive her. lie I
brought her into the room. leaning on his c
arm, his poor foolish heart bounding with
pride and joy. Kate and his as yet un
annulled engagement with her were
alike forgotten, as he led his queen. his a
saint, his idol, to his mother; and it was
with tifllculty that he prevented himseltf
from saying out before them all, "Moth- 1
er, tdke her to your heart; she is your e
daughter!"
lie did, however, hold his peace, and
only Kate read him clearly. and .hrugged
her shoulders over the words.
Graceful and soft 'were the few
sentences said, in her slow, half
lisping voice, by the fair faced
stranger to Mrs. D)rmmond. who
received them awkwardly. lhalf.timidly.
as it conscious of the storm that was
brewing. And then she turned to the
Vicar, and made the old man's eyes
sparkle with the caressing charm she
threw into such an ordinary salutation as
that of a guest to her host o , entering.
To Kate the bowed with a pretty little air
of trlumlh, and glanced hastily at the
back of the gentleman from London,
standing slightly apart and in the
shadow.
"I think there is some one here who
knows you." then said Kate Hyslop,
slowly. "Mr. Plumstead, you know this
lady, I think ?"
The gentleman from London turned
quickly round.
"An unexpected meeting, Mss Clara
Bell," he said with a eruel t agh, and
tapped her expressively on her shoulder.
One fleeting spasm of fear and agony
transfigured her loveliness to horror as
he spoke, and then the candid blue eyes
looked up straight into his, the sweet,
small month quivered into its usual half.
shy, half-plaintive smile, the graceful
body swept a long, low courtesy, and the
silvery voice said smoothly, "You are
under some mistake, sir. My name is
Madame Dufour-Caroline Dufour-and I
have not the honor to know you."
" Game to the last, I see !" laughed Mr.
Plunmstead coarsely. "But the day of
reckoning is conme. my lady, and your
fine airs go for nothing. You have been
wanted bor some time, yon ke:ow, for that
little mistake you made about young
Charle Lawsona's name to that check you
presented. By the look of things, I'm
afraid we shan't get much out of the fre
there," he added, in a kind of aside; ' and
now I've found you I don't mean~to let
you go agaito, I promise you. You have
no right to comaain; you have
whad retty long iannings, all things con
" Walter! kill him !" shrieked Madame
Dulbmur, turning wildly to her young
lover. She had no need to urge him.
Already his hands were twisted In the
neckeloth of the detective, when, quick as
thought, Mr. Plumstead drew a truan
cheon from his pocket, and gave the boy
ablow that rendered further Interferenee
from him Impomible.
SMy boyr my boy! You have killed
him" r the miderable woman, fing
ing herseif on her knees beside him.
"Wataler! look up! speaktome! Brave,
good, Innocent boy, speak to me once
again !"she kept on repeatng, while mobs
withoettears-thee terrible mbs of fear
mInlled with angunish-shook her whole
frame, uas she crouched close to the pale
face, kissing it wildly.
" Insolent ! abandoned !" said Kate, In
deep tones, striking her hands from Wal
ter's faee. "Your plaee Is not there."
"Ah! but I loved him!" pleaded
Madame Dufonr,with unconscious ptho.
"Whatever I may be. Iloved him !"
"Take her away," msaid Kate, sternly.
"She has stood between us long enough."
"They shall not take me!" she
Sscreamed; but Mr. Plumtead bent over
I her quickly; and, before she we!l knew
that he had taken her hands in his, he
had slipped on a pair of handeuff.s, and
I had her at his mercy.
" Loosen his cravat, throw water in his
I face, and keep him quiet when he recot era;
Sand don't fret, madam," to thepoor moth
I er who was weeping violently on the
Sother side. said the detective, as he pre
par:l to pass out. leaving them with the
boy lying as if dead on the floor with no
more alpparent concern than it' Ihe had
knockel d over a rabbit. It was all in the I
way of his profession--merely a unit in I
I s averwes--and he knew he had not I
kiilled him.
"" Now, then, my bwauty," he laughed, I
turning to the poor wretech alternately
cowering and raving in his gralsp, **to
yolr hoiuse if youL please; and then we
willgpct our litle bu-iness settled."
l' he p.seid out through the village.
st fr consenting to apllwaranees a to i
cover wi:h a shawl the geohlen hlit ad that
had so lately borne itself in triumnlph. and
which was now so bitterly ablaseil, and to
concmmeal the (ruel hanudelifls that shlonie
among the bracelets on her wri ts. She
was a prize, worth taking., anJ he wa
pleasd with his day's work.
Ye ars pasled. and Kate Ilysliop. for all
her money and unrelaxing determination
to marry Walter. was Kate Hlyslop still.
and Walter [)rulmlnond, a sad. grave
il:,n. pirenmaturely old. and always bear
ing that heart treak of his aboult with ;
himn. wa: living in London, In an isolated
miserable fe~hion enoutgh, seeming to
have little to do wi h life any way, and I
to have parted ftrever with happine.ssand t
holw. Hil tather and mother were dead.
mudi he halI made no new friends. The I
nily interest he took in anything was in y
prisons and re.frmstories. These lie vi
Ited co(is alltly; constantly, too, wander
nd about the lower haunts of poverty and
vice; or. seallddely chauning his mnetilod.
le would roam about thw park andl the
fathionable squares. always searching. 1
Raways hoping, and ever pursuing what 1
he never overtook. Ills rh tarh be
Ltlme a kind of monomania with him : t
but he never saw again the woman he
sought. though day by day he said to
himlself-now the moment had surely 1
come. he would find her to.day : and I
when lie had found her, lie would take
her to his heltrt lovingly, reverently, as
rfold, and in his love he would cleanse her h
of her stains. lie never thonught how
t.me would have treated her. He looked
tir the golden hair, the fidr flower-face,
the sweet, shy smile of the early days:
end once'. when he gave a grey-haired,
haggard, broken-down berggar-woman ut
l;lt:a-crown in the street, he did not
know why she touched his heart so sadly,
ar why she woke a chord that vibrated inm
remembrance, but that had no echo in
recognition.
At last, one bitter winter's night, lie
lied. lie had wandered restlessly all the
lay. feeling so near and yet sofaroff, as it
her form was walking with him side by
side, stp for step, ashe pacel the long
streets for hours; but he could not see her e
face, nor touch her hand, nor hear her i
voiee. When the night fell he crept back I
to his miserable home, once more disap
pointed and his mission unfulfilled. Ilis ,
heart broke at last; and when they came t
to rouse him in the morning, lie was
dead. d
As they laid the poor worn body I
str:lght, and fair for Its last rest. they
found suspended round his neck a locket
in which was a long tress of golden hair. c
a date, a monogram, and " For ever," un- e
Ilerneath. And when a wretched beggar- I
woman died of drink and privation in a I
police-cell. that same winter, they found
on her, too, wrapped in a worn bit of pa
per that had once been pink and stamped
in gold. a short, crisp, chestnut curl, and
" Walter," with the same date as his
written within; while a trembling hand,
of evidently later days. had scrawled in
unsteady characters across, "My only
real love. God bless him !"-Londoe So
ciety for F'bruary.
Cotteweed Sagar.
Every one in the East by this timne
knows that a sugar is obtained from the
sugar maple. This tree abounds in the
Eastern States. As soon as the sap be
gins to move, in the spring, holes are
bored into the trees. wooden spigots in
serted, and the sap flows out into the lit
tle buckets provided for the purpose.
This toap is then subjected to evaporation,
and the sediment becomes maple sugar.
In the West, the common silver maple
of our Eastern cities has been experi
mented with and f, and to yield a tolera
bly good atrtle. Anothermaple, the box
elder. or negundo, as it is called, also
yields considerable. As these two maples
grow very rapidly, they are often planted
as much for sugar-making purposes as
for the timber they yield or the shelter
from the keen prairie winds which they
afford.
It has been found, however, that sugar
producing trees are not confined to the
maples. The poplars yield an article lit
tle inferior to the true sugar maple of the
East; and the annual product made by
thu settlers in the cotton-wood districts
of the West is by no means inconidera
ble.
The cotton wood poplar is one of the
best Miends to the far Western settler. In
many districts there is no timber except
along the river banks and water courses,
and it is then often conaned solely to the
cotton-wood. It forms his firewood, his
fenee-posts, and his cattlocorrals; and
now it appears, as well as boiling his ecof
fee, it furnishes the sweekening to make
it palatable. Although found naturally
in damp plaes it seems to grow as natu
rally on dry land; and it is used for shel
ter belts on farms and street trees for the
towns, It grows with imlmense rapidity.
The writerhas seen branches wlteh have
made ten feet in length in asingle season;
widle some stumps of trees cut down
have indicated by their anual rings a di
ameter of two feet in twenty years. The
timberis soft and not very eaduring;
but, take it all in all, the eotton-wood, to
the Western man, is byno means ad.
spised blesing.-Forsy's ',ss.
A Ralway Nuleme.
The English Railway system rbasatlst
one advantae over ours-the traveler is
not imte every fve minutes duriug
his ourney, by venders of small wares.
There, in ech station, the haudiome and
well-supplid book-stall ilves the traveler
ano tya to ifralih himself with
then role or e r he my desire; and
then, pe wy in the arll ria
he is seuered feomnternrtIe Buthere
the railwamy cormpres the privileges
of the ears to render, and ddi~brately
sbject puseges to a systsmatiued an
meekness, is submitted to without a mur
mar. Seareely has the train left the sta
tion, ere a boy appears with a aurmfll of
papers. He Inoseontat to walk through
the train, quiet rding these who wIes
to purchase aopportult to do so; but
he thrusts his wares intoerbe 's lap,
andl then immediately proceeds to gather
them up. No sooner is the ear canvassed
for the newspapers, than the vender re
appears with a supply of candy-parcels,
and thes e simlare airly breed upon every
one's attention; then comes pop-orn,
gumdrops, comie newspapers, almanaes,
pamphlets of all sorts, doughnuts anui
sandwiches, priaze-parels in whlIech the
lucky purchaser will find a ring-the list
Il almost interminable, the Industry of
tile small boy wortny of a better cause,
and the tax upon the traveler's patience
and endurance rendered almost intolera
able.-A-plpetoo.
The "Three-Bottle" Times.
IN those days Scotland would have
been a rich tiell for Father Mathew's Ia
Ihor. Hlabit: ol drunkemines were comn
mon alike to rich and poor. They were
loaseiated with goodfellowship. and were
tenderly dealt with. even by the church.
The orgies of I)sb:ldist.one Hall. graphi
cally tdescribdl ill i:b Roy, found their
c•ounterpart in maniy a *i'ottish manor.
The' old bacchanlalian rhymne,
'*" ll nl . swo.. to I".id, g.H.* to btdi ,dwr.,
llk a tl.. Il avces l* o, andt dit  it n 4 )t..Iwr;
111it he that ows "l thw, I.s to Itwd In lllow,
L.ar-w Ing, j..ll1 liti, atnd dii all honle.1 T1.l
was. qulotted, lhalf ill earnlest, as apolig
for the ex.'Xt.,caes which we'althy and re
lwe't:ableh hosts. tunder the guise of hoipi
t lity, literally forced uiponi their guetsta,
wit nIt tihe clotht was drawn and the ladle:I
had aban.loned the dlinner-table to their
riotous lords and ma-ters.
I i;have hea:rd lIIl father. thar n once. i
rela:te what lhapl·ntted on tutch :ul tr'cato t io.
when he wah s weet of thile actors. li had ,
teei tinling, u itli a party of e'ighlt or ten1
gentlemlen tandi a tew ladies. at tile luxu- i t
ri'mlls ecountry-se'at of a friend who had1:
shown hIinl imulch kindne.ss. When the
ladies withdrtw, the lhot. having cauLed I
tihe butler to set out on tihe t:able two doz-'
oIn Iottles of port, sherry, anlld claret.
locked the door. put the key in his pocket,
shirking to-nighlt ! Not a mann lea.,ves this
room till these bIttles are emptied."
No remark was made ill reply, an:d tile
Mine palt':s'edi round. MVy father drank
tlree ; gl:asses-thle utmoltst limit to which I
lave ever k nown lhimlto go, though he halb.
ituallv took a glass or two of sherry alter
elinner. At time foulrtlh rounid lie lpatsd
the bottles without tillingK. His host re
ilons)trated, at tirst in jest, then in a half-I
angry tone, when the recusant iersisted. I
Thierupn t my father, approaching a
front wilndow which opened on the lawn.
only a few fi'et below it, threw up the f
a:sh, and leaped out, followed by three or
four other guests.
This enraged their host. As the fugi
tives looked bac'k, they saw him upset the
linner table with a violent kick. smashing
Iottles and gla-,ses, and declaring, with
an oath, that, if they didn't choose to
drink that wine. niob(tdy else should.
The deserters jonlled the ladies in the
drawing-room, but tihe host did not reap
pear : and my father, as leading conspira
tor, lost. and never regained, his friend
ehip.-R-obert Dale Owen in Atlantic for
.l,, rc/t.
Proportlen of Cream.
Few persons are aware, probably, of the
exteitt to which the percentage of cream I
is influenced by the conditions of the cow.
It is a curious fact that any excitement to 4
which tihe animal is subjected causes a
very large loss of Beam on the milk. At i
the Barre meeting of the Mass. State
Board, I)r. Sturtevant of South Framing- 4
ham, said "Under the same feed, and un
der the same circumstances, the same cow
gave, one day nine and luf "per cent. of
cream and another day eighteen per cent.
of cream." Thereupon, Mr. Lewis, an old
experienced dairyman said : "I can tell a
bigger story than that. I have taken a
good dleal of pains to test the value of my
milk that I have worked into cheese. I
have graduated glasses for the purpose,
and I have foutad a cow whose uniform
percentage of cream was eighteen per
cent. reduced to six, in twelve hours,
not from any change of food, but from a
little excitement. You gentlemen who
make butter, be careful to adopt my ad
vice and always treat your cow kindly and
gently; never get her excited, because
every ounce-of excitement will take from
her milk one per cent. of cream. 1 have
known a cow abused by a furlous, brutal
milker, and the percentage of her cream
went down one-half. It is astonishing
what an effect excitement has on the per
centage of cream in the milk that a cow
produces. You will be astonished if you
will um.ke the test, and make it carefully.
I have known a cow, excited from natural
causes, to drop her percentage of cream in
her milk from fourteen to six per cent. In
twelve hours. So I would again repeat,
whoever abuses his cow knocks out of his
milk a large percentage of the cream."
It will readily be seen how important
it is to keep the cow quiet and from right
and all excitement. The worry by dots.,
te hurrying and balloing of boys, when
driving the cows home from pasture, the
kicking and pounding of an angry milker,
or any similar cause of excitement will be
sure to reduce the quality of the milk to
the extent of several per cent. of cream.
This fact is too well attested by many
careful and experienced dairymen to ad
mit of a doubt, and the first object of con
cern with the butter dairyman, especially,
should be to ee that his cows are treated
with the utmost gentleness all the time.
The boys who drive the cows home will
make a note of this, and when tbe spring
comes and cows go out, just mark what
we say.--Mas. PfourAgme.
A hewspaper Ofee ea Zxibitlte.
There are some things too mered for
public display, and among them my be
clarssed the art and mystery of"'ettlng
up" a newspaper. It is annoueed, how
ever, in a letter from Vienna, that at the
IKternationalm Exhibition now belag or
ganized in that city one of the great
sights is to be the interior ofa newspaper
oaffe, with editor, writers, reporters,
printers and publishers at work, just as
in ordinary life. The indstrous jornal
ists ame tobe shown in a hu bage glass build.
ing, like bees in a transparent hive. The
editor will be s giving out subect
revising arties, ad exemplygwil
wate-paper baket at hand the-well
known rule in respect to rejected commu
alicatkes. Writers will be on view at
work of the most varied klad-some at
leaders, others at rviews and a few even
(if the ebhratr of Austri journllm r l
to be Sigoml.asiUtld) at the lace
tare, a certain aember of
ore, anxious to obtela "feve rbe toes"
or to reply to iust but unmr.saeal criti
lesmsia be nlowed to appear. Itis
tobe hoped that the itmeary perfrmerls
wil be well uptn thelr pars, that thie C
torwl wearbecgf lg trave aspeot,
sad tha th e wrlters llmetb seen pai
logforalck of inspiradon or rfllag
their memories too frequsmy by tual
to books of referene. Cobett cuen ebn.
it toodo gether on Knigto
Common, tht onewspaper renderamight
me by what sort of men they allowed
themselves to be lalaaced. Thewriters
of the Nea.s Frau Fsee had probably
neverheard of Corbett's amusing but not
very natelligent mneer. They, at all
events, are the heroie gentlemea who,
with a love of publicity which preve that
their hearts are in their profei , pro
pose dring tthe forthoming Vienna Ex
hibition todo teir literary and journalis
tie work in preseaese of as many thous
ands of sight-seers as can be got toether
from all parts of the world.-N. Y. I__
pendent. ___
Wr. may as well throw our money into
the gutter, or go fighting wind-mills., as
to try to make our fellow-creatares b'tter
while we neglect the* physical condi
teoss.
The Value of Beauty.
.At a recent agriculturadl metting in
l'ennsylv:ania it was diur'sl whletler it
was worth while, from a monetarv point
of view, to ornallment firm groulnds. It
is remarkable that, of the great inutmbwr
of things disicatussel, lnol question icmled
:o very interestinig. Onie would think
that such a snubihj.t neee.,d no ,li.ussiotn;
but when we drive throimlh the country
and 4see so lt .liny fatrmiho,..s not only
witnholt beauty, but a:bohlteily without
comfort--an:d ev.en in ldesian:ue of all
lt';atyv, Ias if cheerless. mlil-lrable condi
tion were acttually prtti ramle-it is clear
that tle quest.iont was not at all a pointlc-s
one.
One sleaker at that nweting pult the
mal'ter in a practical lizht ini this way:
If, hlie asked. we are buyving apleh in tefw
market. andu have two samples twx' itflre Iit,
both large. botlh of tequally excellent
flavor, both, in faht, prelci,.ly the saute in
every r..sleet. ext('It thalt one is of a
greenl. lllinvitln, tint. and the other red
and rouv-which do we take? Indeed,
thel' in eewry breanst a love of lwa:;ty,
miin n many nreslets it is all we live fir.
'e like thiis orld I me:lau it is lantitil ;
'eatlushethe ilower bloomll, the treeTs grow.
and the birds sing; eni allse our eyes, ears
and all ,uir .sens are pleased-l: and be
'.me it is be.uty that iiled- more than
any other element thoem charmis of life
which Ms delight us ; a:tl, whether we
are conlsc.iolis ot it or not. it enters largely
in all our ealculationis as to, what we .-hail
buy and what we will own.
To mlak., our Ihones Iaulltil'fl shllolllul t
ithe one bbjeet oft our lives. The ilere
making money is all very well. It is in
d. eel one of the virtues. Ih.e who is will
ing to work. and is anxions to mLake and
to save money by his hard labor, may
have vices; but lie Is - "hlom .o Ioarsely
had as the shiftless spendthrift wiit. while
ridiculing the saving habits of parents or
friends, is yet willing to bortow from or
spend money for them But too often
these praisewortly. frugl., anuld saving
habits degenerate into a rule of life. and
very little happiness or good in any shape
results fromn the money nmade. A very
little of thee savings-a very little time
spent on beautifying onets hlomc-put a
new phase on existetnce: and we really
believe men would live an average of ten
years more than they do if they were to
say once in a while "berone dull care" in
the mere matter of money-making, and
devote a little time each day or so to mak
ing a sort of Eden of their home and the
surroundings. But it is not so much of
the mere pleasure that we would speak.
There is actual money in beauty. As the
speaker above said of a beautitful apple, so
it is of a beautiful farm. As a general rule
a place in which taste is exhibited, and
everthing is kept up in nice style, will
bring double that of one in which misery
and ruin rules complete. It is to be noted,
however, that these pretty places are sel
dom for sale. Those who cultivate these
tasteful habits with the view of selling
their places In consequence of improving
them, seem to thrive in every other way ;
and in time come to the conclusion that
they can afford it. and may as well enjoy
life in the midst of beautiful surroundings
as to sell out for other people to enjoy.
T . Press.
Bmance of a Hair.
To hear a French woman glorify France
and vilify its enemies is to feel your own
blood tingle. I heard, only the other day,
of an incident quite apropos to this. A
French lady, who married a German bar
on some ffteen years ago, and who lives
at Berlin in a style befltting her wealth
and rank, had at dinner not long ago some
fifteen or twenty Prussians sealed around
her table. Notwithstanding her marriage
she bad remained French at heart. In the
course of conversation the Prussians be
gan to bewail Paris, poor Paris, which
was no longer Paris, and to predict that
in ten years Berlin would be the capital of
the world. She listened angrily, until no
longer being able to withhold her indig
nation she freed her mind to the effect
that Paris was Paris yet, would always
hie Paris, the most brilliant, most attract
ive. most civilized and artistic city in the
world. Moreover. she would lay a warer
that her Prussian friends might select the
most ugly and the most insignificant thing
they might find anl Paris would make of
it an object of beauty, such as Berlin
would not dare to attempt. The wager
was saoepted. and the next day the lady
received a mall box, which upon opening
she found to contain a single white hair.
What could be made of one white hair?
She did not know; but, concealing her
embarrasment, she sent the hair to Paris
accompanied by a letter giving an account
of the wager, the dreumstances, &e. In
due course of time she reeeived the box
bmck from Paris. And what think .you
Paris had madeof the white hair? Ithad
been eneloed in a open trench of gold,
which e rossed a medailion surrouneded
with brilliant. At the top of the medal
lon the Prssian eaglle in black enamel,
with wings extended, held the white hair
inl its elaws. Then suspended fomn the
haidr was a little eseatcheon in white ea
amel bearing this inscription: "Alsace
and Lorranlae. You bold them only by a
hair." It is not very probable that the
Prusetsans were eager for another bet.
Paris Cor. N. F. World.
Biveer laws.
We are glad to observe that the State of
iladin shows igs of reform In reglrl
toher divorce laws. It has itherto had
the unenvlable reputation, and that, too,
not without reason, of running a great
divorce mill attractive to all eustemers
whbo want th sort of ~art ground at the
shortest~ mode. The le tur has just
passd a ill rednl atbe number of k
al ueasu for divore, reqmiriag that pI
b sha ll have a eotnuous resldence
in the State fr at lest two years before
th _kJblI be endtlsd to eommence pro
I i a divoree sroit, and aim pm
vdingthatwherme tbhe petition has been
glrmand without dequase ntI , te eae
Qo be sweed ad the dere mt
Tme urposs of the Mll Is to
mese the law mere tr tad ts
by lessen the felihlty with lv3 diveas
an b procured. The di t eebat wll
be a dammrase in the number of su sdh,
and a m n puble m eseofthe ae.
Uty sad of the marriageee
meat. hNmm w e less likey he.
after to invite the temporary resdene of
persons who want to afind the shortest
way to bra the lea bods of
ymunalrr. If tl the Stats wold
at unlorm divorce code, and then
s`tate would recognise the alidty
of a divoree decree in every other State,
our Amerian Jurisprudene in respect to
this subject would be very materIally im
proved. There lano good reason why
such should not be the fact. It would
correct many of the evils wbhich grow
out of the present divensity of legal prac
tice.--N. F. ldrepeadet.
Tana is no outward sign of pollteness
which has not a deep mosal reason. True
education teaches both the sign and the
reason. Behavior is a mirror in whbich
l every one shows hIs own image. There
r is a politenaesl of the heart alidn to love.
from which apring the eaiest politeness
of ootward beIavr.