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Morning Star and Catholic Messener.
3W IORLWAN. SUNDAY. MAlRlCH 1 Ib . Irem the Mobile Register ] A POEM. We introduce to the readers of The IRegdier a little poem, from the pen of gentlemano who was some Tears since an sdmird and esteemed citemn of Mebile. We mean the lae poet and orator, A. J. Requier, Esq. Immersed in pro fssooal engagements in the city of New York, these lines are the first he ban dedicated to the muses for five years, and they come now bright and fresh from his brilliant pen at the request of old friends in Darlington, 8. C., who oem pose the Darlington Monumental AsMociation. The little gem is entitled" Memorial Altars," and we pott in public print, for the first time, to-day. MEMORIAL ALTABf. Bt A. 3, QuSlsa. Where shall their dust be laid 1 Os the messtils starry ereet. Whoe kiadlsg lights are signals made To the mansins of the bleat: For, brlight thesgh the meuntain be, Ithaee no gemi Ists diadem Like the oprk of the free I Where shall their dust be laid 1 On the ocean's termy shore, With wailing weeds at their backs arrayed, And shout ag ase before : Ne,--e -soI For, deep as i waters hbe. They bsa no depth like the faith which fired The marts rt of the free Where shall their duet be laid I By the valley's greenest spot. As it ripples down. in leeps of asade, To the blue forgeotlme not No.--os--no PFr green as the valley be. It h no flower like the bleeding heart Of the heroes of the free! Or whore muffled pasgeant march,. Tbhroel the spired and ehimlng pile, To the chancel-i of its oriei arch. Up the organ ooded aisle : ,-no-.--ne For, grand ua the rinstere be. They could never hold all the kslghtly hoste f01 Jackson and of Lee! Where shall their dust be laid I Is the urn of the Human leart. W here Its purest dreams are first displayed And its peeasoate longings start: Yee -yN.--ye 1 y lo emeory's sletapr wave, Is a living hrteo for the dead we lrve, In the ) oad they died to ms! -. JENIFER'S PRAYER. (Continued.) PART 1II. Lady Oreystock drove on briskly. They were out of the shadow of the trees and again on the broad, white, gleaming, gravelled road that led to the west lodge, anid the turnpike road to Blagden. Not a word was epoken. On went the ponies, who knew the dark shadows of the elms that stood at intervals, in groups, two or three together, by the side of the road, and threw their giant outlines across it, mak ing the moonlight seem brighter and brighter mslt silvered the surface of the broad carriage drive, and made the crushed granite sparkle on wontlthe ponies, shakingjtheir heads with mettlesome inlpatiencewhen the pulling of the reins offended them, not freightenied at the whirling of the great droning night insects, which flew out from the oak-trees on the left, nor shying away from the shadows--on they went through'the sweet, still, soft, scented night air, and the broad, peaceful light of the silent moon-on they went! Not one word mingled with the sound of their ringing boos not a breath was heard to answer to the sighing of the leaves; the "good night" that had been spoken between the stranger and themselves seemed to live in the hearing of those to whom he had spoken, and to keep I them in a meditative and painful silence. At last the lodge was reached. The servant opened the gates; the' carriage was driven throegh; the high road was gained, and all romantic mystery was over; the dream that I had held those silent ones was gone; and like I one suddenly awoke, Lady Greystock said: "Eleanor! how wonderful; yogi knew that 1 man ! Eleanor! be knew you; asked about yon; had been seeking you. Why was he there in the Beremouth woods - appearing at i this hour, among the ferns and grass, like a wild creature risen from its lair? Eleanor ! why don't you speak to me ? Why, when he spoke of you by your name, did you not answer for yourself Why did you send him to Jen ifer? Oh! Eleanor; I feel there is something I terrible and strange in all this. I cannot keep, it to myself. I must tell my father. It can't be right. It cannot be for any good that we weta man lurking about, and not owned by You, though he is hero to find you. Speak, Eleanor! Now that I am in the great high road I feel as if 1 had gone through a terror, I or escaped some strange danger, or met a myys tory face to face." Lady Greystock spoke fast andin a low voice, e and Eleanor, betiding alittle toward her, heard e every word. "You hare. met a mystery face to face," she said in a whisper, which, however, was mufli ciestly audible. "1 did know that man. And I aut not denying that he sought me, and that he had a right to seek me. But many things have changed since those old days, when, if I had obeyed him, I should have done better than I did. I know what he wants; and Jeni for can give it to him. Here we are at Blug den; think no more of it, Lady Greystock." No answer was given to Eleanor's words; they met Dr. IBlsgden on the steps at the door. "You are later than usual-all right t" "All quite right," said Eleanor. "The beauty of the night tempted its to come home through Beremonth," said Lady Greystock. "'low lovely it would 'ook on such a sweet, peaceful night," said Mrs. Blagden, who now joined them; and then Eleanor took the carrriage wraps in her arms up stairs, and Lady Grey stock went into the drawing-room, anid soon after the whole household-all but Eleanor were in bed. Not Eleanor. She opened a box where she kept her letters, and many small objects of value to her, anud carefully sbutting out the moonlight, and trimming her lamp into bril liancy, she took out letter afte letter from Henry Evelyn calling her his beloved one, and hie wife; then the letter from Corny Nogent, saying that llenry Evelyn and liorece Erekine were one; and the one thing that Corny I', gent had sent to her as evidence-it seenae, to be proof sufloient. It was a part of a letter from Horace to hise uncle, Mr. Erskine, which had been flung into a waste-paper basket, and which, having the writer's siglnature,, Corny had kept and sent to Eleanor. Not, as he said, that be knew the man's handwriting, but that she did; and that, therefore, to her it would have value as proving or disproving his own convlctions. Elelaor had never brought this evidence to ptoof. She had lad i by Corn"' letter, and the inclosure. She had putt it all aside with the weight of a dread on her mind, and "Not yet, not yet," was all she said aos she locked away both the aessortion and the proof. Biut her husband was at Beremouth no-. Yes; and on what errand She knew that too. Mrs. Brewer haId called that mmrning to see Ladly Greystck. Mrs. Brewer had come herself to tell Claudia that lMary would arrive, and that IHor;ace nold bring hecr. She wouli itot trust any ote but IIreI Ito give tithat In:orll: t'oni. Shi ntvei r h0 t g, th, i It.l tI ' lirce ha - lllir ll.C~ M .' l lI a . ·i, 1 are trules aud remain truth8 for ever, though reason has never proved them or investigatln explained them. Then, too, there wault drlter's letter, which Mrs. Brewer bad sent to Father Daniel-. There the passing fany for Claudia had been spoken of. In that letter the love of money had peeped onut, and supplied the motive; dut Mrs. Brswer knew very well that Claudia disposition *as not of a sort to have any ae qeaintanoe with pssing faucles. If she had Ive Horaes ebe hadloved with bher whole heart; and it she had been deceived in him, her whole heart had suffered, and her whol life been overcast.a "Mother Mary" had felt to some purpose; and now, only herself should may to Lady (reyetoek that he was cmming among them again. She had arried at Blagden and she had told Claudia everything ; what Horaee wished as to Mary, and what her sleter and Mr. Erskine desired; and she had not hidden her own un willingness to lose her child, or her own wish that Mary might have married, when she did marry, some one more to her mother's mind, and nearer to her mother's house. And it was in remembrance of this conversation that Lady Greystock, when she took Jenifer into the carriage, had said: "If you over pray for my father, and all he loves, pray sew ?" Something of all this had been told by Lady Greystoek to Eleanor. And in the time that the aunt and niece had been together that day, Eleanor bad said to Jenifer, "He is down at the park wanting to marry Miss Lorimer." Jenifcr's darliug-Jenifer's darling's darling; bow she loved "Mother Mary," and Lansdowne Lorimers's child, only her own great and good heart knew. What could she do but go to God, and his priest ? What human foresight could have prevented this f What human wis dom could set things right And after all they did not surely know that Eleanor's husband and Claudia's lover were met in one man, and that man winning the heart of lovely, innocent Mary Lorimer, and pressing marriage on her. But for her prayer, Jenifer used to say, she should have gone out of her mind, Oh, the comfort that grew out of the thought thaf God knew! and that her life and all that was in it were given to him. Such a shifting of respon sibility-such a supporting sense of his never allowing anything to be in that life that was not, in some way, for his glory-such practical strength, such heart-sustaining power, grew oueat ot Jenifer's prayer that even Eleanor's numbed heart rested on it, and she had learnt to be content to live, from hour to hour, a life of submission and waiting. But was the waiting to be over now t-was something coming? if so, she must be prepar ed. And so, diligently, by the lamp-light, Eleanor produced her own letters, and opened that torn sheet to compare the writing. It was different in some things, yet the same. As she gazed, and examined, and compared terminations, and matched the capital letters together, she knew it was the same handwrit ing. Time had done its work. The writing of the present was firimer, harder, done with a worse pen, written at greater speed. But that was all the change. She was convinced; and she put away her sorrow-laden store, locked then, safe from sight, and said her night pray ers and went to bed. Not a sigh, nor a tear. No vain regrets, no heart-easing groans. The tine for such consolation had long been passed with Eleanor. Within thelastnineyears herlife had us muclh changed as if she had died and risen again into another world of iintermediate liial. A very great chance had been wrought ini her Ly Lady tireystock's friendship, Elea no.r had become educated. The clever, poeti cal girl, who hail won Hlorace Erskine's atten tion by her natural superiority to everything around her-even when those surroundings had been of a comparatively high state of cul tivation, had hardened into the industrious and laborious woman. When it pleased Lady Greystock to hear her sing, in her own sweet, untaught way, the songs of her own country, she had sting them; and then, when Lady Greyetock had offered to cultivate the talent, shehad worked hard at improvement. She had been brought up by French nuns, at a convent school, and had spoken their language from childhood; when Lady Greystock got French books, it was Eleanor's delight to read aloud; and she had made Mrs. Blagden's two lit tle girls almost as familiar with French as she was herself. Those things had given rise to the idea that Mrs. Evelyn, as she was always called, had seen better days; and no one had ever suspected her relationship to Jenifer. Mr. Brewer alone knew of it. As to Mr. Brewer ever telling anything thateould be considered, in the telling, asa breach of confidence, that was, of course, impossible. That night-that night so important in our story, Jenifer, having done all her duties by her mistress, which were really not a few, and having seen.thut the girl whodid the dirty work was safe in the darkness of a safely put out candle, opened her lattice to look oni the night. Her little root had a back view. That is, it looked over the flagged kitchen court, and the walled-in flower garden, and beyond, toward the village of Blagdon and the majestic woods at the back of the house at Beremouth. Jenifer had gone to bed, and had risen again, oppressed by a feeling that something was, as she expressed it. " going on-something doing somewhere-' something up,' as folks say, sir. I can't accounot for it. I fancied I heard some thing-that I was wanted. And I thought at first that some one was in my room. Then I went into mistress's room, without my shoes, not to wake her. She was all right, sleeping like a tender babe. Then I went to Peggy's room. The girl was asleep. I sniffed up and down the passage, just to find if anything wrong in the way of smoke or fire was about. No; all was pure and pleasant; and then I went down stairn to make sure of the doors being locked. Everything was right, sir " such was Jenifer's account to Mr1. Brewer who, when she paused at this point, aske( " What next did you do Did you go up stairs again to bed ?" "I went up stairs," the woman answered," but not to bed. I sat at the window and looked out over the garden, and 6ver the meadows beyond the old bridge, and on to Ileremouth. And the night was the brightest, fairest, loveliest night I ever beheld. And so, sir. I said my prayers once more, and went again to bed; and slept in bits and snatches fur still I was always thinking that somebody wantedme, till the clock struck six; and then I got np." " ou don't usually get up at six, or be fore the girl gets up, do yos r" * No sir; never Imay say. But I got up to ease my mind of its burthens. And when Peggy had got uip, and was down stairs, I started off for thle almus-house; I thought Mr. Dawson mi,: ne up to esay mass there, for it was St. Lawresneb's Day." " Well " " But there had been no message about mas, and noprieat was expected. And as I got back to our door there was Mrs. Fell, the milk-woman. She had brought the milk herself. I asked how that should be. She said they had had a cow like to die in the night, and that their man had been up all night, and that she wa sparing him, for lie had gone to lie down. Then I said ' Why, I con ld never have heard any of you busy about the cattle in the night,-you see they rent the meadows. But, she said they weroe not in the meadows; the boasts were all in the shed at the farm. ' But,' she said, ' it's odd if you were disturbed, for a man came to our place just before twelve o'clock, and asked for you.' ' For me!' I cried-' a mall st your place in the midldle of the night asking tor me!' She said, * Yes; and a decent spulkeu bodly, too. Bitt tired, anUd weot through and thlrougiu. lie said he hadl fallen into the Beremouuth deir pond, ip, in the park. That is, hlie descrbedl tie plaone clear enough, and weI kiiev It wa:s tIhI diler poal., for it could inot ,e naiywlai.e, e', '. " " Au.ii dd youn ae where I tht, luau w it, t i "- N '' , , .. I lifted toy • y"sid I .w hi.-" ".\ou ith, was he?'" tb), Mu. iBrt'ur. it tuin|* al he a s ruirld [ . he - i a i i tt n i t tli'r: but 1 nm ot clear r itz Kli u Iu.s lllt'.'" Mr|'. I eu;str cl toui uut his catch and lookedi at it. '" Is is nearly ten o'lck," he said. " Whero's your mistress f" " Settled to ber work, sir." Mr. Brewer bold this long talk with Jenifer in that right-hand parlor down stairs where he had paid that money to Mrs. Morier, when the reader first made his acquaintance. He had great confdence in Jenifer. He knew her goodness, and her patience, and her trust. He new something, too, of her trials, and also of her prayer; but he had come there to In Svestigate a very serious matter, and he was going steadily through with it. "Lsten, Jenlfer' " Yes, air." " Last night, Jest after our prayers, Father Daniels being in the house, my friend, Mr. Er skine, who escorted my step-daughter, Mary Lorimer, home, went out into the park just as was supposed, to have a cigar before going to bed. Mrs. Brewer and I were in Mary's room when we heard Mr. Erakine leave the house. He certainly lighted his cigar. Mary's win dow was open and we smelt the tobacco. Jen ifer, he never returned." They were both standing and looking at each other. " My life, and all that is in itl" Up went Jenifer's prayer, but voi.elessly to heaven. " My life, and all that is in it!" But a strong faith that the one terrible evil that her imagination pictured would not be in it, was strong within her. " He never returned. My man-servant woks me in my first sleep by knocking as the bed oom door, and saying that Mr. Erskino had not returned. I rose up and dressed myself. I collected the meon and went out into the park" We went to the south lodge, to ask if any one had seen him. ' No,' they said. But the west lodge-keeper had been there as late as near ten o clock, and he had said that a man had been in their house asking a good many questions about Bereumoutb, and who we had staying there, and if a Mr. Erakino was there, or ever had been there, and inquiring what sort of a looking man he was, whether he wore a beard, or had any peculiarity f How he dressed, and if there had ever been any re port of his going to be married f They had answered his questions, because they suspect ed nothing worse than a gosesipping curiosity ; and they Bad given him a rest, and a cup of tea. lie said that a friend, a cousin of his, had lived as servant with Mr. Erskine; and he also asked if Mr. Erskine would be likely to pass through that lodge the next day, for that he had a great curiosity to see him. lie said that he had known him well once, and wanted greatly to see him once more. He, af ter all this talking asked the nearest way to Marston. lie was directed through the park, and be left them. Our inquiries about Horace Erakine having been aaswered by this history told by one lodge-keeper to the other, we could not help suspecting that some one had been on the watch for the young man, and taking Jones from the lodge, and his elder boy with as, we dispersed ourselves over the park to seek for hint, a good deal troubled by what we had heard. We got to the deer pond, but we had sought many places before we got there; it did not seem a likely place for a man to go to in the saummernight. We looked abont-we went back to get lanterns-they were neces sary in the darkness made by the thick foliage; one side was bright enough, and the pool was like a looking-glass where it was open to the sloping turf, and the short fern, which the deer trample down when they get there to drink ; but the side where the thorns, hollies, and yew-trees grow was as black as night; and yet we thought we could see where the wild climbing plants had been iulled away, and where some sort of struggle night have taken place. As we searched, when we came back, we found strong evidence of a desperate en counter; the branches of the great thorn-tree were hanging split from the stem, and, holding the lantern, we saw the marks of broken ground by the margin of the pond, as if some one had been struggling at the very edge of it. Then, all at once, and I shall never understand why we did not see it before-the moonbeams grew brighter, I suppose,-but there in the pond was the figure of a man; not altogether in the water, but having struggled so far out as to get his head against the bank, hid as it was with grass and low brush-wood, the ferns and large-leaved water-weeds; we laid hold of the poor follow- it was Horace Erakine, Jeni fer!' " My life antd all that is is it !" But the hope, the faith, rather, was still alive, that that worst grief should not be in it-so she prayed -so she felt-poor Jenifer. " Master." she gasped, " not dead-not dead-Mr Brewer." iNot dead!" he said gravely; "he would have been dead if we had not found him when we did. Ile was bruised and wounded; such a sight of ill.treatment as no eyes ever before beheld, I think. lie must have been more brutally used than I could have believed pos sible, if I had not seen it. His clothes were torn : his face so disfigared that he will scarce ly ever recover the likeness of a man, and one arm is broken." " But not dead 1" " No" but he may die; the doctor is in the house, and the police are o-st after the man whom we suspect of this horrible barbarity. Now, Jenifer, hearing some talk of a stranger who seemed to know you, I cause here to ask you to tell me, in your own honest way, your hon est story." But Jenifer seemed to have no desire to make confidences. " Who told you of a stranger f" " Have you not told nme yourself, in answer to my first questions, before giving you my reasons for inquiring?" " No sir; that won't do. I judge from what you said that you had heard something of this stranger before you came here." " I had, Jenifer.' And Mr. Brewer looked steadily at her. " Well, sir I" "Jenifer, I have really come out of tender ness to you, and to those who may belong to you." "No one doubts your tenderness, sir; least of any could I doubt it. Tell me who men tioned a stranger to you, so as to send you here to me f" " Lady Greystock's groom, coming to Bere mouth early, and finding us in great trouble made a declaration as to a stranger who had appeared and stopped his mistress as she was driving through the park last night. He says this man asked if they could tell where Mrs. Evelya lived, and Mrs. Evelyn immediately answering, said that she lived somewhere in the neighborhood, and that he could learn by inquiring for you. The groom says that the man evidently knew Mrs. Morier's name, as well as your name; and that after speaking to him, Mrs. Evelyn asked Lady Greystock to drive on, and that she drove rapidly, and nev r spoke till they had almost got back to Blagden." " It is quite true." said Jenifer. "He told me the same story this day." "Can you say where this man is t He will be found first or last; and it is for the sake of justice that youn should speak, Jenifer. The police are on his track. Let me entreat you to give me every information. Conoesalment is the worst thing that can be practised in such a case this-have yon any idea where he is? I do not ask you who he is; -on will have to tell all, I fear, bsefore a more powerful person than I an. I only come as a friend, that you may not be induced to conceal the evildoer." i The evil-doer," said Jenifer '" who says he "I say he will be tried for doing it; and that a trial is good for the innocent in such a case of terrible sospicion as this." " May be," said Jcnifer, may be !" Then, once more, that prayer, said from hier oryn hIeartl tI hsosugh nI?'.ipOkeCi by her lips; aBid theu ituhve qsiet word,-" .Xulli as to the ilaU hiilsutlf. lie is my Irotle-r. My iiother'sa clhihl by her u-cind ihush, id." " Yo'r brother --hle with waho:m Eleauhor livedl inl Ireland f"' ' Yus, Mr itrowver; hle ef c-hlius I tolhi you lwhen yiu .avdl Elealnr so lsuany years ago. Aid as to whcre he ic-step into the kitcher,I L sir, d you mayne se bim iug In a catsi by the ke-anu way, left mi there, when I eamn to open the doer for you." ir Mr. Brewer'bad really cometo Jenifer in a b perfeetl friendly way; esxotly as be had said n -out of tenderness. He had known enough e to send bhim there, and to have those within sr oall who would secure this stranger whoever e he was, and wherever he -was found. Now, o known, be walked straight into the kitchen, i- and there stopped to take a full view of a man a in a leathern easy chair, his arm resting on Jenifer's tea-table, and sound asleep. A finer man eyes sever saw. Strong in figure, and in face of a remarkable beauty. He was san r burat; having pulled his neckcloth off, the skin of his neck showed in fair contrast, and y the chest heaved and fell as the strong breath a of the sleeper was drawn regularly and with a healthy ease. It was a pioture of calm rest; a it seemed like a pity to disturb it. There 6 stood Mr. Brewer safely contemplating one who was evidently in a state of blissful un - conscionsness as to danger to others or him self. "Your brother?' repeated Mr. Brewer to Jenifer, who stood stiff and upright by his side. "My half-brother, James O'Keefe." "There is some one at the front door, will you open it 1'' Jenifer guessed at the personage to be found r there. But she weat steadily through the front passage, and, opuoing the door, let the I policeman, who had been waiting, enter, and then she came back to the kitchen without ut a tering a word. As the man entered, Mr. Brewer f laid his hand on the sleeper's shoulder and t woke him. lie opened his line gray eyes, and looked round surprised. " On suspicion of hav ing committed an assault on Mr. Horace Ers r kino last night, in the park at Beremouth," I said the policeman, and the stranger stood np a prisoner. He began to speak, but the police man stopped him. !' It is a serious case," he a said. "It may turn out murder. You are warned that anything you say will be used against you at your trial." "Are you a mnagis I trate, sir1" asked O'Keefe, as he turned to Mr. Brewer. "Yes, I am. I hope you will take the man's advice, and say nothing," "But I may say I am innocent." "Every word you say is at your own risk." "I run no risk in saying that I am introccut -that I never saw this Horace Ersdine last night-though if I had seen him-" "I entreat you to be silent; you must have a legal adviser." "I! Who do I know !" "You shall be well looked to and well ad vised," said Jenifer. "There are those in this town, in the offlce where Lansdowne Lerimer worked, who will work for me." It was very hard for Mr. Brewer not to pro mise on the spot that he would pay all pos sible expenses. But the recollection of the disfigured and perhaps dying guest in his own house rose to his mind, and he had a pailful feeling that he was retained on the other side. However, lie said to Jenifer that perfect truth and sober justice anybody might labor for in any way.' And with this sort of broad hint he left the se, an Jeuifrsaw te stranger taken off in safe custody, and, mounting his horse, rode toward Blagden. lie asked for his daughter; and he was instantly admitted, and shown np-stairs into ,her sitting-room. There he found Claudia, looking well and happy, en gaged in some busy work, in which Eleanor was helping her. " Oh, my dear father !" and Lady Greystock threw the work aside and jumped up, and into the arms that waited for her. It was always a sort of high holiday when IMr. Brewer came by himself to visithis daugh ter. When the sound of the brown-topped hoots was heard on the stairs, like a voice of music to Claudia's heart, all human things gave way, for that gladness that her father's great heart brought and gave away all round him, to everrybody, everywhere--bnt there, there, where his daughter lived--ther, among the friends with whom she had recovered from a great illness and got the better of a threat ened, life long woe-there Mr. Brewer felt some strong influence making him that which people excellently expressed when they said of him "he was more than ever himself that day." Now Mr. Brewer's influence was to make those to whom he addressed himself honest, open and good. ie was loved and trusted. It did not generally enter into people's minds to deceive Mr. Brewer. Candor grew and gained strength in his presence. Candor took to her self the teachings of wisdom; candor listened to the advice of humility; candor threw aside all vain-glorious garments when Mr. Brewer called for her company, and candor put on forthwith the crown of truth. "My darling !" said Mr. Brewer, as he kissed Claudia, "My darliug!" " Oh, my dear father--oy father, my dear father!" answered Claudia. Then she pushed forward a chair, and then Eleanor made ready to leave the room. " Yes, go, for half an hour. Mrs. Evelyn. But don't be out of the way; I have a fancy for a little chat with you to-day." A grave smile spread itself over Eleanor's placid lace as she said absh should come back when Lady Greystock sent for her, and then she wont away. Once more, when she was gone, Mr. Brewer stood up, and, taking Clsaudia's hand, kiseed her. "My dar ling," he said, " I have something to say, and I can only say it tb yon-I have some help to ask for, and only you can help me. But are you strong enough to help me; are you loving enough to trust me " "I will try to be all you want, father; I am strong; I can trust-but if you want to know how much I love you-why, you know I can't tell you that-it is more than I can measure, I am afraid. Don't look grave at me. It can't be anything very solemn, if I cdn help you, or anything of much importance, if my helppis _ worth your having." . " Your help is absolutely necessary-at least necessary to my own comfort. Now, Claudia, tail your father why you broke off your en gagement with Horace Erskine." "lHe did it"-she trenmbled. Her father took her little band into the graspof his strong one, and held it with an eloquent pressure. " Ie wanted more money, father. It came as a test. He was in debt. I had loved him as if-as if he had been what yeou must have been in your youth. You were my one idea of man. I had had no heart to study but yours. I learnt that lHorace Erskine was unworthy. He was a coward. The pressure of his debts had crushed hin, into meanness. lie asked me to bear the trial and to i.ve him. I did. I did, Father " " Yes, my darling." He never looked at her. Only the strong fingers clasped with powerful love ou the little hand within their grasp. "But you were fond of Sir Geoffrey I" "Yes; and glad and grateful. I should have been very happy-but-" " But he died," said her father, helping her. " But Horace sent to Sir Geoffrey the minia ture I had given him-letters-and a look of my poor carling hair-" How tight the ree sure of the strong hand grew. "I found the open packet on the table"-she could not say another word. Then a grave, deep voice told the rest for her--"And your honored hnsband'a soul went up to God and found the truth" nod the head of thie poor memory-stricken daughter found a refuge on her father's breast, and she wept theresilently. "And that made yon ill, my darling; my dear, darling Claudia-my own dear daughter. Thank you, my precious one. And you don't like Beremouth now." "I love B-remouth, and everything about it," cried Lady Greystock, raising her head, nod gathering all her strength for the effort hbt I dlare not see this man--and, I would rather never look again on the deer-lpond in the park, bccauslti there he spoke: there he prom ised--t here I thog.hit ii I lift, was to be as that atill pool, I 'up and overilowing with the waters of hI lnp)in'u-s :ia d their lnnver-ceCij rniic. 1\V used to -o there every day. I hasve not looked on it stuce--I could not bear to listen to the rush of the stream where it falls over the stones between the roots of the old trues, between whose branches the tame deer would watch us, and where old Dapple-the deer old beauty whose ameo I have never men tioned in all these years-used to take biscuits from our hands. Does old Dapple live, father f Dapple, who was called 'old' nine years ago t" And Lady Greystoek looked up, and took her hand from baer father's grasp, and wiped ber eyes, and wetted her fairforeihead from a bowl of water, and tried by this question to get away from the misery that this sudden rdmurn to the long past had brougbt to mind. "Dapple lives," said Mr. Brewer. And then he kissed her again, and thanked her, and said "they should love each oeher all the better for the confidence he had asked and she had given.". "But why did yea ask f" "I want to have my lancheon at your early dinner," said Mr. Brewer, not chosing to an swer her. "You do dine early, don't you Int" "Yes, and to-day Eleanor was going to dine with me." "Quite right. And I want to speak to her. Claudia, something has happened. You must know all very soon. Everybody will know. You had better be in the room while I speak to Eleanor. Let us get it over. But you had better take your choice. It is still about Hor ace that I want to speak-to speak to Eleanor, I mean." "I should wish to be present," said Claudia, and she rose and rang the brll. "Will you ask Mrs Evelyn to come to us I" she said, when her servant appeared. In a very few minutes in walked Eleanor. "Mrs. Evelyn," said Mr. Brewer, 'last night you directed a man to seek Jenife~ at Mrs. Mtorier's house. That man was James O'Keefe, Jenifer's half-brother. You knew him I" "Yes, Mr. Brewer, I know him." "But he did not know you I" "No." " He asked about you. Why did you send him to Marstona " "Because he could there learn all he wanted to know. I am not going to bring the shadow of my trou bles into this kind house." " That was your motive?" " Yes. But I might have had more motives than one. I thinkgthat was uppermost; and on that motive I believe that I acted." "That man was in the park. At the lodge gate he had made inquiries after my guest, Mr. Erskine. That man was at Mrs. Fell's the dairy-woman's, at midnight. He was wet through. He had, he said, fallen into the water -he described the place, and they knew it to be the deer-pond." As Mr. Brewer went on in his plain, straight fbrward way, both women listened to him with the most earnest interest; but as he proceeded Eleanor Evelyn fixed her eye on him with an anxiety and a mingled terror that had a visible effect on Mr. Brewer, who hesitated in his story, and who seemed to be quite distract ed by the manner of one usually so very calm and so unfailingly self.possessed. "New Mr. Erskine had gone out into the park late. Mr. Erakine, my dear friends-Mr. Erskine nercr came back !" He paused, and col lected his thoughts once more, in order to go on with his story. " We went to seek for him. He was found at last, at the deer-pond, surrounded by the evidences of a hard struggle having taken place there, a struggle in which le had only jnst escaped with his life. lie has been ill treated in a way that it is horrible to contem plate. lie is lying now in danger of death. And this morning I have assisted in the cap ture of James O'Keefe, whom I found by Mrs. Morier's kitchen fire, for this possible murder. I should tell you that Mr. Erskine is just as likely to die as to live." (To be continued.) C m mm mm mmm| IISCELLANEOUS. LANDRETHI'S WARRANTED GARDEN SEEDS. SOUTHERN SEED STORE. E. F. VIRGIN, 98............Gravier Street ............g 9 NEW ORLEANX, DEALER IN Landreth's Celebrated Garden Seeds. I have a large and complete assortment of GARDEN SEEDS In store, and am prepared to fill all orders with promptness. I invite the attention of Merchants Planter, Gardeners, and all in need of a Fresh and Reliable Article. - Also - FLOWER AND GRASS SEEDS of all kinds. FLOWERING ROOTS. FLOWERING POTS. Etc.. FRUIT TREES and SHRUBBERY furnished at Nur sery Prices. FERTILIZERS, of various kinds, at manufacturers' Pries. Orders respectfully solicited. All communicatlons wil receive prompt attention. Catalogues and prices furnished on application. fela Im DAVIS & FRERET, REAL ESTATE BROKERS. 27........... Commercial Place..._........' Prompt attention paid to Purchasing and Selling o1 Property, Collecting Rents, etc. Rent Bulletin issued daily. Sale Bulletin issued semi.monthly. Personal attention given to any City Property put tb our hands. 8 22 ly R. McCLOSKEY'S Oyster Saloon and Restaurant Nos. 70 and 72 St. Charles street. I take'pleasure in announcing to my friends and thb public that I have opened a flrst-class OYSTEI SALOON and RESTAURANT at the above place. The bouse has been thoroughly repaired and fitted u1 in first-class st le Ladies' and bentlemen's Saloon up satr., Allthe lnxurties o the seao.., such as OYSTERS FISH. GAME. etc., will be served up In the beet style The beat of WINES and LIQITO si always on hand oci'?7 tm A. U. HERICON. Manager. CASSIDY & MILLER, SAILMAKERS, COTTON DUCK _gent. Mannsretnrers ofr ery D. scrlption of TENT, TAKI'A .I[NS, AWNING( etc., eto Dealers in all L mLe and Qualities of MANILLA and TATRRED ROPE. PUR CHASE BLOCKS, all sies. Wolesale and Retal Dealers in Bunting or Flags, aUll colors and qualitles. Flags of all Nations made to order and on hand at at times. We pay especlal attention to getting up In ant de r style or fnish fine SILK FLAGS or BANNERI, Our faciites and long experience in bnslnas Jeluifm us l offering ur services to all requlirlng anythling i our line, and our work shall be First Rate and ons prices qlite moderate. CAssIDY MILLER. 107 ................ Pojdras atreet.................. 10 an' 72 Iv Between Camp and Marasulo J. K. BAILEY,. 246........... CANAL STREET......... --246 VINEGAR. v14721,- I,rART.Trn1I IN" 1+40. PENSACOLA, FLOIIIDA. JOHN IbAPTIST I'PFI"FFERLE, l'roprietier. The attenti,o oi traveler, Im called to this iurle, coin mol a aio'ull [ elegant iu.arelug luu.i e. nshiw h Jo lrlatiilv oppuaitoe lKt I l4tltlic i;tlti"l ant C~flcttct tin Ith Itairoad nIpe . 'The Far s alays of the best illi ma. ih+.' ,and the ry:us ..ar.alwys ery . ouera:e imyI67 lyI SEWING MACHINES. THE SINGER SEWING MACHINE C*y AT THE WORLD'S PAIR, qpNSTITUTED BY THE HOMES O THBUPEO r. i REOEED THE Great Award of the Highest Sales, And have left all rivals far behind them, which Is do to the SUPERIORITY OF THE SINGER MACHINE over all others. The Returns of the Twenty-FPlve dierent Sewn Machine Companies, for the year 1871, show the Number of Machines Sold to be.. 610,19 Of' which the Singer sold ....... 181,2 NEARLY ONE-THIRD OF THE TOTAL NUMag SOLD. The CHICAGO RELIEF COMMITTEE'S RETURN show a like result,' Out of 2941 Machines Furnished, 2427 were Singer Machines. The Applicant in every case designated the kioe Machine desired. There are now 800,000 Singer Sewing Machines 1ri Daily Use. EVERY MACHINE GUARANTEED TO GIq1 SATISFACTION OR MONEY REFTNDED. Call and Examine, or Send for Ciroulai and Sample of Work. MACHINE T WIST, of all colore, andeon all size spools JON CLARK JR. & CO.'S COTTON, on blae spools, at wholesale and eitail. WM. E. COOPER & CO.. GENERAL SOUTHERN AGENTS, 89 ......... Canal Street.......... *j1y 71 IV New Orleans. BOOTS AND SHOES-HATS. D. HURLEY, FASHIONABLE HAT AND CAP STORE, 172............. Poydran Street ............ 172 Bewtween St. Charles and Carondelet. New Orleans. Constantly ou hand a large assortmentof FI[NE HATS of the latest style. Also, Silk and Casimers Iats. Children's Fancy CAPS. ma 73 ly LOUISIANA HAT MANUFACTORY, Jons FRIE!,, PRACTICAL IIATrER, S (Succeesor to A. MIoller.) 10o...........ST. s. CHARLES STREET...........I Under Murphy's Hotel, oew Orleans. Personal atlention paid to all orders. Keeps e- staotlv on band a bols aasrtment oe Hatsr oe13721Y TOetS A DO A I..','lu PROFESSIONAL CARDS. W B. LANCASTER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, 50................Camp Street............ .. del 7 2 l Over the Germanal Bank. DR MALONEY....... ST. ANDREW STRE~T Gives speclaLattention to saving of the natural tee'h. Artifcial Teeth inserted with or without extractingth ootls. krices within the reach of all. Troth extracted without pain. oe1372 17 G. J. FrIEDRICHS, DENTAL SURGEON, 156 ..........St. Charles Street .......... pI8 7" ely rner Glrod. MISCELLANEOUS ADVERTISEMENTS. ORGANS..................... ....ORGANS The new Organ of the Holy 'Trinity Churoch. Third District. New Urleans, which was built by G. WeInriCh & Brother, Organ Builders, St. Louis, Mo.. is, byls handsome appearance as well as by its fullness and weetne of tone, an ornament to saId church. Meers. G. Welnrloh & Brother certainly dors0ati be patronized by those In want of a good Olrgan. K. WEISS, Organists. New Orleaus. Feb. -!, lb73. Referring to the abo~v, the understgned begs leave to nform the Clergy that he attents to every branoh per, taming to Organs. Orders may be left at G. GRUNE WALD'S MUSIC STORE, Canal street. G. WEINRICIH & BRO., mbh9 lm Organ Builders. BUCKEYE BELL FOUNDRY. Established in 1847, 8 tperior Bells of COPPER and TiN, mounted with the beet ROATARY HANiINGS, for Churches, Schbools Farms, Facto. ri s. Court Houses, Fire Alarms, T ,wer Clock Chimes, etc. Foully Warranted. Illustrsted Ceatalogne cent free. VANDUZEN & TIFT, 102 and 104 East Seoo neatreet,Clnolnti' L8. r. WEST Agene mL9 73 ly 115 and 117 MaNaswne at.. New Orleans. B J. WEST, AQRIOULTURAL IMPLEMENTS, PLANTATION HARDWARE AND MACBHINEBT. 115 and 117 Magazine Street, AGKSr FOR Poole & Hunt (Baltimore) Steam Engines, Sew BIs, etc. IL & r. ;l:.,- caneevil:Ec, Ohilo) Steam Engne,, 8sw V.: Payne & Sone' (Cornlng, New York) Steam La gline., Saw MLIls, etc. 'eorrge L Squer & Bro. (Buffalo. New York) Suar flll, Hpcee Powers, etc. E. Bail A Co. (Canton, Ohio) "World" and "Ohio" Mw ne. and Mowers and Reapers combined. b. •. Osborne a Co.. "Kirby Mowers, ete. B. .. Taylor, Hay Bakes. , chslt" r*na "Monroe" Pulverizing Harrows. SEzoeleor" Lawn mower. R. Bail & Co. (Worcester, Massachusetts) Wood.Work' L B SIimth (Sithylle, New Jersey) Wood.Woring Machinery. Bmerican saw Company, rew York. tubbard, Li pincott B kewell & Co., Says. GCunpowder Copper Works, Baltlmore. ellne. Plow Company. Plows and Cultivators. Winship & Bro. (Atlanta. GeorgIa) Cotton Gins. Stafford' Cultivator and .Sartley" and .Peel "Gang 'Buckeets" Foundry. Bells. t. J. West's Cotton Seed Huller. 8. J. West's "Improved Felton Patent" Grist Mill and Corn Cob and Shuck Crusher combined. P. C. llsbet (Macon., Georgia) Cotton Proe Screw., E I , balon - 1