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Moarnina Star and Catholls Messenger.
Saw ORLEANS, SUNDAY. EBRUARIY I. 1674. IFor the Morning Starand Catholic Messenger. TEARS. AN OL-PR OS THR IRNRCE OF SAINT AlOs. DT !RANK MC OJOIN. Oh! gentles tears, which Nature doth distill PFrom all the ills which to repletion fll The achlng heart Oh1 t gentle balm, which heals Its feet'rlig wounds, which soothes the pala it feels! When Sorrow holds communion with the soul, Or grief for dear friends lost hath full control, Thy fragrant drops, moat pare, do every traee Of,lasting sorrow from the heart efface. Andtofeniog Pity, too, which ever dwells Within the source whence come thy gentle swells., Doth with a mild and tearful eye o'er blend More touching grace than eloquence can lead. Oh I magle end yet melancholy charm, Which grieves and yet gives consolation warm! All yields nuto the power of a tear Love, Bate and Pride, and e'en debasiag Fear. Oh ! tender Pity's gentle dauhgters fair I Who from your melancholy homes appear When summoned by her sympathetico call, And on Affection's bosom softly fall. " 'en Pleasure's self to flowing teare gives rise They find their birth within her soften'd eyes, And do-unto her melting moments lend More charms than e'er upon her smiles attend. Ye grateful tears, which memory recalls At Duty's voice your generous tribute falls! Oh I that I coold your eloquence so mute Make vocal in the poet's faltering nluto Oh I lost l'hatanon I' thou whose virtues great My muse in vain doth strive to celebrate. So deep my loo ! I shed above thy pall The grateflul tear, more eloquent than all. What rlan. of varied talents, like to thee. Could worship pay with such tidelity I Ye geu'rous cirtuen which in him shone bright, Where rshall we find you now, to blese the sight i Alas! he hearir me not, his cars are sealed, To whom msay now my sorrows be revealed? Oh ! let mny teare upon thine ashes fall, Who once in thy warm heart received them all i And thou art Ideadl Thy coundlug lyre, unstrung, Upon the gloomy boughs of cypress hung; Now musicless and dumb, enie and diatrest, The sorrow'of larnusnsu doth attest. Thou modest author, of friends the most sincere, Whose talents and bright virtues shono so clear These from oblivion's touch thy fame shall eavre: Thy namle shall live, thoogh thou art in the grave. t iabanon was an intimate friend and a great patreaon nod beneiactor of the poet. THE CROSS TIIROUHII LOVE AND LOVE THROUGH TIlE CROSS. Mabeleth Cristalar was the daughter of a Spanish Jew. 11er father had once been very wealthy, and indeed until the age of sixteen she had lived In princely splendor. The beauties of her Spanish home were very dear to her; shabe had many friends, and as much time as she chese to spend in study. But one day, her mother, a stately, handsome matron, came into her little sitting-room, looking pale and worn. "Maheleth, my child," she began, in faltering tones, "we have had some bad news this morning. I am afraid we are in danger of being totally rined. The young girl looked up; she wan very beautiful, and the spiritual expression on her face intensified and heightened her beauty in a singular degree. " Ruined, dear mother? Is my father very unhappy about it ?" ' He is more angry than unhappy; ithas happened through thoe dishonesty of persons he trusted." "Shall we have to leave home " asked Maheleth. "I fear we shall; it is a heavy trial." "It will be for our good in the end, mother darling. I am so sorry for you and my father, because you have always been usneed to riches." " So have you, my poor child." "But not for so long a time; and it ieasoier to root up a sapling than a full-grown tree." "Ah ! you hardly know what may be before you, Maheleth; your sisters are mere children; we have but few relations; with fortune, so also friends will forsake us; the shock will be very sndden, and we shall have to bear it alone." "You forget our God," said the girl gently." A shade of impatience passed over the elder woman's face. "We do not hope for miracles now, child," she answered; "your father has worked hard for his wealth, but Qod will not treat him as lie treated Job." "'Depend upon it, if he does not, mother mine, it is because he knows what is best for me. You would not have ns lose our hopes of the hereafter for the sake of more or less com fort in the earthly present ?" " My child, you should have been a boy; mnch sayings would tell well in a sermon, but in practical business matters they are but cold comfort." "Oh! they are comfort sufficmient, believe me; besides, they do not debar uas from prudent measures and precautions in a temporal point of view." "Well, child, you are a visionary, I always knew that; it remains to be seen if you can be a stoic." " What need of that, dear mother ? 8toicism is not obedience nor resignation." Here a light step was beard, and the half open door was pushed quickly back. A little girl, about nine years old, ran in with flushed face, and, holding in her hands a velvet casket, cried out in gleefrl voice: " O mother! sinter ! see II got leave to bring this in myself. It has just come from the jewellrr'u, just an my father ordered it!" And she opened the casket, displaying a wonder fil palrre of rpals and diamonds, oxquisitely and artistically wrourght. Senora Cristalar turned away imrpatiently, anyinrg to the chilti: "Thtrnir, I am enguged; elor't come fooling here about these jewels; put thomr down, and go into the next room." The chiled, hurt arid ostonished, looked blankly at her sister. Maheloth reached out her hand for the casket, nrrd half rose from her seat. " I will come to you presently, little sister, if you wait in there; never mind the pretty gems Just now." And so saying, she kissed the little eyes that were ready toorerilow with obildeshn tears, ant, setting lbejewels on a table outof sight of her mnother, resnmed her seat. "There are the llrst-frnitsof ouroircumetan- I ces," said the mother bitterly. "The man expects to be paid for those to-day, and I shall I have to tell him to take them bach !" "Come! if there were nothing worse than P that! Now, mother, we will both go to my father, and pray together, and then consult 0. among ourselves." Mabeleth'e father was very fond and very " proud of his eldest daughter, and this Indeed g was hie beet trait. Shrewd and clever in fi. worldly affaire, yet strictly honest in his " dealings, be was not devoid of that hardoess SI that too often aoompanies mercanti'esuocoes, I and as oftens turns to weakness when that Al euceees disappears. m One thing seemed to sustain him, but it wae bc only a hollow prop after all-hi. pride of race. Le For generations his family had been well . known and bonored: he could trace his ances try back in an unbroken line ofdescent from one of the exiles from devastated Jerusalem. Rabbis and learned men bad borne hin name, and though in latter times no opening save that of trade and banking bad been available to those of his race, yet ble blood yielded it in nothing to that of the proverbially hanghty nobles of Spain. It mattered little that by some he was shunned as of an inferior extrao tion or lower soolal status: his own wealth, his wife's beauty, his lavish hospitality, his daughter's chbarms, were strong enough, he knew, to break the barriers of prejudice, at least as far as appearanoes went. As to mar riages, he did not covet for bie children the alliance of a poor foreigner, and poor most of the proud families were whom he daily enter tained at his splendid house-poor in braines, poor in beauty, poor in energy and strong will. And yet, though he almost despised his neighbors, this shook was very galling to him. They now would tarn from bhm, wonud forget his opeu-handedness, and remember only his raee and oreed; woald pity him perhaps, but with the pity that in almost contempt. And this seemed to paralyze him, for all his Aercely expressed consciousess of superiority to bin friends. Mabeleth tried to persuade him to take the trial calmly; for even in a temporal aspect calmness would sooner show him how to re trieve his fortunes. "For," she said, "you know that, with your abilities, you can, if you will, gain enough for my little sisters' dowry by the time they will be grown up; and that I. the first thing to be considered, and after that we shall even have enough to live in comfort." "And what is to become of you, Mabheleth f" asked her father fondly. 1 "Oh! you and I will be co-workers. I will look after those two until you can marry them well, and so we will both have a definite object in life. We can keep my mother in some degree of comfort from the very begin ning, if we only look things in the face." The opals and diamonds had to be retgrned to the jeweller's; the pleasant home was broken up, and what with the sale of his property,- and various other legal arrange ments, Ephrainm Cristalar was able to pay all his creditors, with a few trilling exceptions, for which lie bound himself by solemn promise to provide shortly. Then the banker and merchant disapppeared, and the nine days' wonder was forgotten by his former circle of aquaintance. One day, a young Englishman, traveling or rather sauntering about Europe in a way un like the usual useless rush of touriste from one point to another of Morray's Guide-Book, arrived at- Frankfurt and settled there--for how long he, least of all, could have told. At the hotel, nothing was known of him but his name, Henry Iolcombo, and that he had an come with a black portmantean containing a number of books, lie went slowly to see the sights, one by one, as if he had plenty of leisure and wanted to enjoy it; and, when he E did go, he never uncasured the length and breadth of saloons, the height of towers, the utunmber of statues in the cathedral-niches; nor did he over disgrace his name by carving it side by nide with the ambitious Joneses or the heaven-souring Smiths on the pinnacle of a a temple, or the bark supports of a summer y house; wheo he went out with a book in his n hand, it was neither the obtrusive Murray nor ,e the ostentatione Byron; and, in fact, he de r parteui altogether from the standard of the h regulation British tourist. He was walking one day down the Juden me Strasne, the picturesqueness of whose media ,, val-looking houses had a special attraction for him, when it came on to rain very suddenly. g and the sky seemed to threaten a storm in good is earnest; tihe street was soon deserted, and the ,f narrow roadway became a miniature stream. Presently he heard a step behind him, and a y slight tigure half hidden by a large umbrella, ,r pressed quickly past him. It was a woman, I and, he thought, a very young one, but more than that he oould not tell, because shabe was , veiled and muffled, and held the dripping um brella very close down upon her head. She , had not gone a dozen paces before him before Sshbe dropped something white like a roll of musaic, and stooped slowly to pick it up. The ,I cloak and long skirt she was holding fast to keep them from the mud embarrassed her, and the young Englishman had time to spring for ir ward and restore the white roll of paper to r, her hand before she had grasped it. S " Oh! thank you, mein Herr!" said a low, rich voice, in very soft German. And, as ar Henry took oil his hat in silence, the girl made a pretty sweeping inclination, and left him, re walking as quickly as before. k But hie had seen more this time, and he knew , she was beautiful, and had a dainty, graceful 1e hand. Curious and interested, he wataced the it dark-clad figure down the street, quickened hie own steps as it hastened on, slackened " them as it paused to clear a crossing without r splashing the long and rather inconvenient garments. He saw it stop at last, and ring a bell at an old forlorn looking door, where he d might have expected to see the face of a Sgnome appear, as guardian of unsuspected treasures within. H lie was dreadfully romantio, this young Eng ,r lishman, but in a subdued quiet way that sel Sdom shabowed itself in words, and was specially repelled by the gushing style too much followed jnust then by some of his fair countrywomen. The door was opened and shubt, and, except Sthrough his notice of the number over- it, 25, d hisrelation with the beautiful stranger was cut off. e lie thought of it day after day got a direct Sory, and found out that in the house No. 2a Sthere lived three families of the names of Zimmermann, Krnmmacher, and Lowenberg. The ocenpations of the heads of the families were iven thusa: "money-lender," "banking clerk, and " lace-merehant," respectively ; no Sclue, whatsoever, of course; and, unless tn a regular and reoeived manner, Mr. Holcombe could not-think of entering the house. Still the face he had seen veiledunder the prosaico toot of a wet umbrella kept between him and hbis thoughts, and would not be driven away. Then, too, what business was it of his to go and throw himself in the way of a girl who mnost likely was a Jewess? Yet reason as he might, the mysterious face ,rould visit him, and it seemed to him as the face of an angel. Very often he passed the house, and once or twice even made a pretence of sketching it; but he iever saw the figure again. Once a young B face looked out over the flowers in the window of the grontil floor room, a merry face fell of health and mischief-not his dream. The blinds t were always drawn on the first floor, even when the windotrs were open, and he began to fancy she most be hidden behind those discreet a shronders of privacy. A friend of his met him at his hotel one day when he came home from the J,,dei-Straeee, and surprised him by tolling him he was going home in a fortnight to get married. " I've been half over the world, my dear fel-ly low," lie said, "and enjoyed myself immensely And I've got each a pile of things goiog home to my fia,,ec, for our house. She rill be de- t. lighted, she is so fond of queer, foreign thiogs not like what other people have, you know. I'll show you some, but most are gone in pack ing cases through agents from the difierent parts of the world I've been in." zAd thbe trwoong men went up stairs to examine the bridal gift.. "Look here," said Ellioe to his quieter friend, E "It was a pasha's wife sent me these," drag giug out a handful of Eastern jewelry, golden fillet. and embroidered jackets and slippers. fa " A cousin of mine I. the wife of the consul at g Smyrna, and she got them for me, for of course ac I was not allowed to go near the Eastern lady! And look here, these are carved shells, and mother-of-pearl orucifxes from Jerusalem, and boxes made from Olivet trees and cedars of to Lebanon; yes should valae those." he " I hope your future wife will," gravely said di, - ,youtng Holoome, ' the wood of the olives of e Gethesemani is almost a relle in itself." i. "Oh! Miss Kenneth will appreiate them i, jost as much as you do, Holombe, she is very e reverential. Seelere Is some alabaster, Na Sples Coral, and Bysantine manuscripts, and n marble ornaments from the Parthenon. Ab! y here is the fligree silver of Genoa; that is one y of my last paunhases, except these pictures on I china from Geneva; see the frames, too, they ,, are Swiss." Is Then he turned out a huge tiger-skin, and e eaid: "All my Indian thinge except this were it cent from Bombay, and a year ago I cent home r- all kinds-of jolly things from North America e fre sand skins antlers, and other curiosities. if By-the-bye, I have soame old point from Venice, r- bat some people had been there before me and a, cleaned the shop out pretty nearly, so I shall g bbre to get me more. Belgium is a good I~place. sn t t t' Ia Hofoombe looked thoughtful; his truant a. mind was at No. 95 again, and he did not an st awer. Hie friend went on: is "I'll j ost ask the landlady, she'll be likely to it know if there Is any place here, just for a soen id venir of Frankfort.' s "Yee said Holcombe, "I suppose she is now, d, as he apoke, the phantom face was di l In his mind' eye, and he could e net drive the vision away." ot " Aud now, old fellow soppse you show me s- the lions here," amid Elice: "you have been here longer than I have." ir So they walked out and of course in due ir time eame to the high, irregular houses bor 11 dering the oarious Judea-S-rasse. It was Fri ,e day evening, and the street wase full of people 'e hurrying to one spot; the air was balmy and told of aummer; the scene was very stri " king. The stream of people disappeared under the archway of a splendid Moorish-looking 11 building, with HIIebrewcharacters carvodebove as the portal. It was the new synagogue. The is two friends followed the men; the women .n were lost to view in the stair-cases leading to a- the galleries. A gorgeous lattice-work defoend ed thesoe galleries, and the assemblage in the ,d main part of the temple were men with their eI hate on and light veils or shawls across their is shoulders. e- The service began; low, plaintive chants re il sounded through the boilding; sometnimes the a, congregation joined. It was very solemn. and eto Henry Ioleombe seemed fascinated. Some one passed him a book and found the place for 1, him. And now came the prayer for the mourn iy ere, the mourner's Kaddisch, as ho saw it printed before his eyes. There was a stir among the tr people, and he could hear the women's clothes n- rustling in the gallery. Those who had re ie cently lost friends and relations stood up dur k, ing the intercession, and then another prayer sr was offered up in German. Holeombe thought the monud of the old Hebrew was like the it passing of water through a narrow rocky d channel; it was soothing and flowing, sad and a majcstic, and he wondered if the girl lie had e seen onceus thought and felt about it as he did. f When the crowd dispersed, he tried to linger i0 at the entrance, watching the women as they d passed out. His friend was hardly so patient, e and reminded him of the table duole they had ir most likely already missed. it " I am afraid," he said, " your people would e scarcely approve your adoniration of the pretty a Jewesses." r " Holconmbe blushed and moved away, and a just as he came out on the sidewalk, a girl in r black passed him slowly, with an anxious, ab sent look. e "By Jove! that is a pretty face," exclaimed Ellice; but the other said nothing. For the " second time he had seen the face he was always dreaming ef. "She looks like an angel," he r thought, "and yet she is not even a Chris tian." i " I never saw a Geroian Jewess like that," e his friend went oni to say. " She looks like a t. Spaniard," a The next day Ellice had got an address writ , ten down, and said to Holcombe: , " If you care to go with me we will go and a look after this lace merchant this morning." a Holombe's heart gave a great throb as he i- asked carelessly to see the addresa: " Jacob e Zimumermann, 25 Juden strasee." e "I don't know muooh about laces," he an if swered, " but I will go with pleasure." a "It feels like going on an adventure, like o something you read of' in a book," said Ellice, d "this penetrating into tbhe privacy of those tumbledown dens of the Juden strasse." o "Well." returned Holcombe quietly, "it does give one the idea." r, They rang at the door No. 27, and the merry, a mischievous face he had seen once at the win e dow greeted Henry as he entered. They in q, quired for Herr Zimmermann. "Oh l" said the girl, laughing and looking w astonished, "he is up on the third floor. Shall 11 I show you the way Bat he is ill, and as he a lives all alone, he has got into very queer d ways." i They went up, guided by the laughing girl, t who rattled on as she preceded them. it "Gentlemen like you most often inquire for a us, for my father, I mean, and no one ever e comes to see old Zimmermann except some a wrinkled old ladies, and heaven knows how d they find him out; and as to Herr Lowenberg, he is a stranger and has no friends." The two yonag men then knew that she was the money-lender's daughter, and Holcombe thought his dream companion must bear the name of Lowenberg. "But is not Zimmermann a rich old mer Shobant, and is he not well-known in the town f" asked Ellice. "My landlady named him at s once when I asked for laces." "Oh! yes; rich he is; so rich that he won't sell generally but then an Englishman is an other thing! se lives like a rat in a hole, and ctarves himself." By this time they had reached the door of the miser's room ' a low, subdued voice was heard within roadilng. Their knock was answered by a noise of light footsteps, and the door was drawn ajar by some one inside. " Rachel, what is it You know Herr Zim mermann is ill." Holoombe knew that voice must belong to the girl he had never forgotten. Just then the light from the door fell upon the men in the darkened, narrow passage, and the slight fig ure drew back a little. " They are English gentlemen," said Rachel. "They want to buy." "To-day, Rachel? It is the Sabbath." Rachel shrugged her shoulders, and Ellice stepped forward. "I beg your pardon. I forgot that. unt I mince we are here, perhaps you will let us see i the laces, and we can comeback and choose on I Monday." The girl looked uneasily back into the room, I and then said, in a very low voice: " No; please do not ask to come in to-day; he is liarilly coiiscious, and he might ferget it ] was the Srhbath in.hbs excitemilen." "Very well," said Ellice politely, and IIol- I comboe whispered to him: " Come away; don't K yeo, understand ?" The doer was closed gently, and Henry said, "She was afraid be could not resist the temp tation of a good offer, if it were made to him, i and she wanted to prevent his doing anything wrong." " How stupid I aml," said Ellice. "Of course that's it. Bt, I say, is sbe not pretty I" n "Beautiful !" answered Holcombevery quiet- a ly. "Is that Fraulein Zimmerman?" asked a Ellice of Rachel. "No; Fraulien Lowenberg," said the girl. b "She in very kind to the old man. Her own g father is ill and can't work, and she is very h good to him. She reads to old Zimmermann and looks after him, too, when he is ill. She II has two little sisters also." " And how do they live 7" asked Ellice. ye " She keeps them, I think. The father nued to be clerk in Hauptmann's bank' but he haa w been laid up six months now, and the mother I died two months after they came here." at )t "Are they Germans " said Ellice, really interested. a "Their name is, but I fanoy they are for. ' eigners. Maheleth speaks like a foreigner." "Maheleth ! A curious name." d " Yes, an unusual one; so is her sister's I Thamar." e They were at the street door now, and Ellice n bade the girl good-morning, saying they would 7 come again on Monday. " What a carious chancel" he went on. " It d is the same girl we saw coming out of the re synagogue last night. Did you notice?" ie "Yes," said Holcombe. " You don't seem very much interested, any h. bow." e. "My dear fellow, I never could get up an id ecetacy 1' 11 "Still waters ran deep, Holoombe. I suspect Id that is the case with you, you ely fellow." Monday came, and the two friends were at again at No. 25. Rachbel admitted them as be n- fore, and showed them into the old lace mer chant'e den. He was alone, and looked very to eager; but his wasted, wrinkled hands and s- dried-p oe spoke his miserly character, and froze the sympathy he so little cared to re 1o ceive. He laid out his precious wares with Be trembling fingers, and it was curious to see id these cobweb treasures drawn from common drawers and boxes, and heaped on a riskety re deal table near the stove that was just lighted in because he was still so ill. Everything about the room looked cold and hngry; the floor 1 was bare- the paint on the walls dirty and r- diseolores, and an untidy assortment of tin i- pans and cheap crockery littered the neighbor. 10 hood of the stove. The window looked into a 1 back-yard, and what panes were not broken i- were obscured by dirt. In strange contrast to Br all this was a bouquet of fresh lowers on a g chair. e While Ellice and the old man were bargain e ing. Holcombo fastened his eye on the flowers, n conjectoring well whose present they were. o The old Jew asked enormous prices for his laces, and gave marvelloeus accounts of the idifficulties he had sustained in proconring them as an excuse for his exorbitant demands. So rthe time seemed long to Henry, wh knew little or nothing about such things, when esud °denly Rachel appeared at the door with a basin i of soup. "Frau lein Lowenberg sent you this," d she said to the old man, and then to the stran rgers: "You must exouse us; he is too weak Sto do without this at the accustomed time, and d the fraulein is gone out." "Gone out " querulously said the miser. 0 " Gone out without coming to see me!" s "She knew you were engaged," retorted ' Rachel. "You will see her again to-pight." r She spoke as to a spoiled child. it ""Well, well, business must be first, and she has business as well as I have." And he went Son with his flourishing declamations over his Slovely laces. d Holcombe understood why she had omitted her morning's visit to her old protege, and in deed it woould have been unlike his ideal of ir her had she acted otherwise. y " Have you nearly done, Ellicet" he said, :, coming up to the table. d " Yes; all right. See, I have chosen the nicest things I could find, as far as I know; d but the fellow asks such confounded prices." y "Well you had only that to expect," was the smiling answer, and then the young man turn: 1 ed to the lace merchant. n " Have you been ill long ?" - "Ouly a month; and I should be dead if it were nut for Maheleth. I cannot do without I her." e "But she is poor herself; she cannot bring s you what you want, can she?" e " No, she cannot; she is poor, andi her father 1- s poor, and so ani 1. I seil nothing now; I have no customers." " Holcombe smiled slightly, but he went on: a " Are you fond of flowers t" " Yes, but I cannot afford them." S " Then it would be cruelof me to ask a violet beart's-ease of you; buit if you would give me d that, I will send you more flowers, and bring you something you will like to-morrow." " Yes, you may take one; but if you want b towers, Maheleth can give you some; she has some growing in her room." I- " No, this one is enough. Good-by, and I will try and see you again." :e As they left the house, Ellice said to his s, friend: is " Well, Holcombe, you are green ! You don't mean to say you believe he is poor?" is " No, I don't believe it; but be will be none the worse off for a few flowers and some good g, food, if he won't get them for himself." I- " I suppose you remember that there is an s- other invalid in the house, and the same per son nurses both ?" g "I know what you mean, Ellice, and I wish I11 you wouldn't joke; it is not fair." ie " Very well, old fellow; but if you were ir anybody but yourself, I should say 'take care.' You always were the very steadiest old chap 1, going." A day or two afterwards, Holcombe was left r alone again; be had sent things to Zimmer r mann as he had promised; but as yet he bad e not revisited the Juden strasae. On Friday w there was a special service at the Catholic I' Cathedral at eight o'clock, and the young man, hardly knowing why, determined to go. a The church was only partially lighted, ex * cept the chancel, which was dazzling. The e music was good, the congregation devoot and the German sermon as interesting as conid be r. expected. The whole effect was very beauti " far, and seemed to Henry a peoace-iving and it heart-soothing one. A rush of voices came breaking in upon his reverie at the Tatuml 't Zr,, and the surging sound was like a mighty u- utterance of his own feelings. As the priest a raised the Host, he bowed his head low, and prayed for peace and guidance and when be f lifted itagain the firstobject his eye fixed on Swas a slight, dard-robed igure, standing aside in the aisle, drooping her head against one of t the columns. He knew the I nre well; but e with a strange thrill be asked himself why was she here ? For the mnusio ? For the beauty - of the eight ? For love of a creed she was half ashamed to embrace Or from the ourl > oeity of a chance passer-by? ° He watched her as she moved behind the s shadow of the pillar, and waited until she was Senticed from her biding-place by the quick desertion of the once croaded churob. Now . the light from a lamp streamed down on her; the face wus anxious and troubled, as if weary with thought. ' Friday, too !" he said to himself. "And she has come here on the very Sabbath. Perhaps she has been to her own service frat. But what I can it mean, if she only were what this would I point tot" The next morning lie went to the Juden strasse before the hour of the synagogue ser vice, and walked up unannounced into old i Zimmeri,,ann's room. As he had hoped, so it proved-ole was there, reading the Psalus toi the old Oman lie wondered if she reumcmbered him, if she had noticed him when he had stood f upon the landing last Sabbath morning- Zim- L mermanm,, greeted him with a nod that had not la much recognition in it, hut said: h "tMeheleth, give the stranger a chair. Muim t SHerr, this is my good little nurse." c I Holeombe bowed, and the girl looked at him in silenue for a few seconds. "I remember," she then said, "you picked si no my music fur nie in a storm nearly a month re "I thought you would not have known me v again," IHoliombe stammered. b "Oh! yes, I am not forgetful. You have y< bees very good to my patient, and I am very gratefol, for he has caten more this week than sc he has for a whole month." at "I think I heard your father was ill, frau lein ?" " Oh I he has been so for many months. Is your English friend gone ?" "Yes; he has gone home tobe married. I E wisb, fraulein, if you could suggest anything, ra I could be of some nse, besides bringing fruit vi and fowers to this house. Do you know, since a. 7 I have been in Frankfort I have never fonnd anything to dot" "Do you mea," shabe asked very gravely, " "yon wish to be of nue to us t" "I mean, if I could come and sit with Herr - Lowenberg, and read or write for him, while you are away; for they tell me you are ont all a day and it must be lonely for him." d "That is very kind of you," she answered, looking at him in calm wonder; "it is true he [t has no society, for the litttle girls hardly e count." "Has he any books T" asked Holoombe. "Be cause I have plenty, and they might amuse r- him and I have English newspapers, too, coming in regularly. Does he speak Eoglish t" n "He understands and reads it; but you are a stranger, and why should we place our bur it dens on your bshoulders ?" " Oh I you most not mind my way; this sort b of thing is a mania with me, you know. - " It is a mania seldom found," coreaked out r- the old man. S"I think," put in Maheleth, " it is time for d me to leave you. How can I thank you Mr. d Holeombe t Perhaps, when you leave my ' friend here, yon will stop at the next landing, h and go in and see my father." " will, and you most not think I am in a a hurry." SThe ice thus broken, many visits followed, Sand at night, when Maheleth was at home, t Henry read to the family in the little plain r room that was so beautiful in his eight. More d than once had be again seen the girl in the n eathedral, always standing, and separated from the worshipers, always with that same sad, a anxious look. One night he noticed a certain n constraint in the father's and daughter's man 0 ner, and Lowenberg was lese cordial to him a than usual. After that, Maheleth seemed yet more troubled, and grew paler and thinner, - He asked old Zimmermann if he knew of any 'a fresh tronble in thebo family, but he could learn nothing from him. Rachel, who always an s swered the bell, detained him one evening and e said: a " I would not go in to-night, if I were you. o Don't be offended, mein Herr." v "Why, Rachel, what is the matter.' - " Fraulein Lowenberg went to the Catholic a Church last night, and her father found it out, " and he says it was your fault." S"Well, I will go in all the same; I had noth It ing to do with it, and my friend must not be d angry with his daughter." Lowenberg was alone, and the room had a r. tossed look about it, very different from the cosy aspect it usually wore. The invalid lay 1 on a couch, with a discontented expression on " his dark, thin face., "Are you worse to-night?" gently asked e Holcombe. t "Ay, worse indeed, and you must add to my a troubles after I had treated you as a son!" "I! My friend, do yoq think that of me ? d Don't you know me better?" - "Ah I" said the invalid irritably, "don't try if to deceive me. You know I have nothing left to care for but my daughter, and you have I, been trying to convert her, I know why, too, but you shall not see her any more." e "You wrong me, Herr Lowenberg. I have Snever spoken to your daughter about religion, because I did not know whether it might be e agreeable to her or not, and she never started kI the subject." " You know she goes to your church ?" "Yes, I have seen her thore several times; t she never saw me, however, and I never hinted t to her that I had seen her." " You speak very fairly about it; but I know g how unscrupulous you Chrietians can be in this matter. You would think it a grand thing to ir convert baher." I "Undoubtedly, if I could do it by sheer con viction. But you should know me too well to believe I would do it by any andne or secret influence." "You do not know how dear she is to me; it you do nut know how her defection from our e ancient faith would break my heart; how I g should have to renounce her for my other chil dren's sake!" it "And how you would stain your soul with ia the blackest ingratitude, Herr Lowenberg, if you did I" interrupted Henry exoltedly. I " So you think that, do you ? You don't know who she is, and how sauch a thing would be so is unpardonable in her that no consideration could inofluence me. I never told you before, 't but she is of another blood than you are-she is the descendant of martyred rabbis, and her e race is as pure as that of the old Machabees. d We are not Germans. We are Spaniards, and, though ruined, our family pride is as great as 1 it ever was-as great, too, as our love for our r- faith." " How long ago was it you were ruined ?" h "Only a year and two months, and I fell ill six months ago; my wife died almost as soon ae as we came here, and my Mabeleth has earned 'our daily bread, and taught her sisters, and p managed the housekeeping, all alone. It is enough to make one course God !" ' "Hush, hush!" said Holcombe. "Yo do not r- mean that-you know you have too many d blessings to thank him for." y " And the beet and only one you are seeking c to take from me." , "I swear to you that much as I should wish and pray for it-for that I will not conceal : from yon-yet I have never influenced your e child in any way." a " You have, because you love her." e Henry was staggered at the euddenness of his words. I " You cannot deny it," continued the invalid. e "No," answered the young man; I have no Scrt deny It, but your daughter never heard it from my lips, and never would." t "Never would!" ecboed Lowenberg, firing I up. "And do you, too, despisae her for her s race-she that is as far above you as you are I above your lowest peasant" " God forbid I" said Henry, solemnly; " for I f think of her as of one of whom I am not worthy. But my faith forbids our uonion, and love her though I shall to my dying day, my love should never cross my lips to stir and wound her heart." ( "You shall see her no more; you have seen F her too much already; if you love her, as you Ssay, desist at least now." "Do you mean that she knows-perhaps re turns-my love I" " I have said enough, and shall not gratify IR your vanity. But promise me you will not see her agaio, and I will even believe that you did ( not try to proselytize her." "No, I cannot promise that. Circnuetances might arise under which it would be death to keep that promiise, and yet I sbould have no w ho e of inducing you to give it me back." 9' You mean she might become a Christian7" '" "Even so, as I pray she may." "And you will marry her then, and she feels 1 it, and yet you pretend yon use no inilnence "I would marry her if she would not think ae nnworthy." "I need say no more. You have been my Oi friend, and I thauk you for your kindness; but henceforth our paths are separate. If I lose my child, I shall know you robbed me of her. I only ask you now to consider what I *t, told yon of our family and fortunes as a sacred confidence." o " My friend," said Henry, sadly, as he rose, ' I will obey you, and you may consider your secret as saored as if it were my own. But remember this is your own act, and if ever you wish to call on mJ friendship again, my ser vices will be as willingly yours as though this L breach had never been. God bless you and your daughter Maheleth!" He left the room as in a dream; Rachel ~. soanned his face curiously as she let him out at the crazy door. lConcladed next week.1 The liver, bowels, blood and kidneys are the great orgaan of the blood over which Maguire's Canda. 171 rasgo Bitter, bold such powerful control, thereby ptea v'ntlng all forms of disease. Sold by all drggists. Agency, coarr of Kagasie sadgw Osmat suts MEDICAL ADVERTISEMENTS. SAERRACENIA LIFE BITTERS. TRADE MARK. THE BEST TONIC BITTER IN THE WORLD SALES LARGER THAN EVER! No hambsg of peisone whisky and bitter drags, "with intent to deew.ve." but spirits pare as Coiau Brandy. e =c menelcum to impart the medicinal virtues of theeleberated SA.RRACENIA ROOT. Delghtflly cordial. it is preerbed by all the aleN. ing physiciaau - the beet invigorator of the systemi giving man bt and digeetieon. reguatin the bowelsr eaaacng h tyateon to the iver. kidnje and hert, and a certain enottble to e malaria.r e D8.JOSEPH TIIKNR, Proprietor. Much re, As. Body W. HENING9~ & CO. olb EEDERICISON & fkRATE, SCHMIDT & ZEIGLEE., New Orleans, jeabs ly and by ail Groeere and aDrugget everywhere. THE BEST COUGH SYRUP IN THE WORLD IS THAT WHICH COMBINES Efficacy, Pleasantness and Cheapness. DUOONOE'8 PECTORAL BALSAMIC SYRUP FULFILS ALL THESE CONDITIONS. 1. It loso palatable that even children take It wit much relish. 2. Owing to its peculiar composition, it never for ments. and can be used with eafety to the last drop after several months standing, which is a great eaving to the pockets. And last, though not least, it is sovereign in Colds Coughs, Catarrho, Bronchitis. Laryngitis, Sore Throat, Whooping Congh, Spitting of Blood, and even in Con eumption, when timely resorted to. It is a standard medicine which time has only mad more popular. It is an old friend in every household in Lounnisiana, where it has been in use for the last forty years with unfailing nuccess and its reputation is now spreading with great rapidity throughout Alabama Georgia, Misslssippi and Texas. For sale, with foll directioces, by Wheelock, Finlay & Co., Ball, Lyons & Co, E. J. Hart & Co., Frederickeson & Harte, E. Montense & Co.. St. Cyr Fourcade, Aieix & Gaudet, George Meyer, P. Bartho, Joe. Pfeffer H. Curtins, J. Gourdon, P. Marchand, and generally by all respectable druggists. A. CARROUCIIE, General Agent, notem 39 Chartree street, N. O. Ayer's Ague Oure, o C) For Fever and Ague, Interoittent Fever, Chill Fever, Remittent Fever, Dumb Ague, Periodical or Bilious Fever, &c.. and indeed all the affections which arise from malarious, marsh, or miasmatico poions. No one remedy is louder clled for by the necessities of tic Amociercn people than a sure anid afe cure for Fever WaI Agule. Such we aro now enabled lio offer, with a perfect certainty tihat it will eradicate the (diecise, and with assur. ance, founded oin proof, that no harm can arise froth its use In any quantity. That which protects frin r or prevents this di. order must be of itmelsc service In the com nunities w.here it prevICs. I'reretis Is bettor - thou cure, for the patent es'apes the risk which tie must run in violent attacks or this baleful ils. teNper. This "CALL " expels the miasmatic proison of FEVER Ats AorE from the system and pirevents the develolment of the disese, if taken on the lirot approacr of its premonitory svmpttoms. It is not only the best remedy ever yet discovered for this cta0ss of comrnpaints, but asto the chef st. The large qtuontity we sup ply for a dollar brings it within the reach of everybody; and in bilious districts, where FEVER AND) AGUR prevails, everybody should hace it, and use it freely, both for cure and pro. tection. It is hoped this trire will place it within the reach of all-the poor as well as the rich. A great superiority of this remedy over ai other ever dsscovereil for the spleedy and certain cure of Intronittente is, that it contains no Quti nine or mineral; consesuently it produces ro nuinism or otherinjuritous effects whateveriipon the constitution. Thios ctired by it are lei1 .as healthy as if they hal never hod the dlisease` 3Fever and Ague to not alone the consequience of the miasmatie poison. A great variety of tis orders arise from its irritation, among which are Neuralgia, lhetmnntismt, (.out, Iteadache, Blindness, Toothache Enrache, Catarrh, Aith ma, Palpitation, PainI'iil Affectios of the Spleen, Itysterics, Pain in the Bowels, Colic, I'arstvo, ant derangement of tte Stomacht, ail of which, when originatinig in thtis catse, tint ott the in. termittent type, or become periodiral. Titis CURE" expels the poisonl from the titood, and consequently cures them all alike. It is an in vatitalile protection to Immigrants anti persons travellIng or temporarily residing in the mnta riolts districts. if taket occasionally or daily vhile exposed to the Infection, that wviii be ex creted from the systetn, ant cannot arccmulate in sufficient qutaintity to ripen into disease. Hience it is even more valuahie for protection than cure- anti few will ever suffer from Inter- - mitlents if they avail themselves of the protect tion this remedy affords. For Lirer Complaints, arising from torpid ity of the Livor, it Is an excellent remedy, etim utlating the Liver into healthy activity, and pro ducitg masy truly remarkable cures, whore other medicines 101. WnL*ARZD aT Dr. J. C. AYER& CO., Lowell, Mace., Prseiteel end Asealytioca Chemists, AND SOLD ALL ROUND THE WORLD. PRICE. G1.00 PER lOTTLE. - sets'136y COAL AND WOOD. COAL................COAL..................COAL. Pitteburg, Virginia, Cannel and Anthracite GOAL, Delivered to all parts of the city at lowest market rates, by W. G. COYLE & CO.. Office No. 139 Oravier street. Yard-Corner Julia and WaNter streets, and head of Race atreet. no2 3m COAL ................COAL...............COAL H. & C. TYLER, 9..-.........Carondelet Street...........9 will Sell Pttsbarg,, Anthracite and CannelCOAL. Ia qnantities to suit c'utomers, at the lowest market Srates. ol2 3m H. & C. TYLER. WILLLAM LEE, COAL AND WOOD MERCHANT, - ovylca AD YARD - On the Levee, at the Foot of Robln Street, Orders can be ielt at my resdenee, corner of Clara and Cypress atrecia. anda J 0. Dymart's, 117 Common street. Dealer in Coal and Wood, wholesale and retail, at the lowest market ratese Ordern filled and families mupplied at short notice. jySOS m BOOTS AND SHOES-HATS. LOUISIANA HAT MANITFACTORY, Jonx FRImL, PICTICAL HAITTER, (Sucoenor to A Mapnier.) S.. T.......T. CEARLES ST EET............54 Near Graver street, New Orleans. Personal attention paid to all orders. Beeps eon etealy on hand a choice assrtment or Hats. no2 73ly D. F N PASHIONABLE HAT AND CAP STORE, 173...E-......Poydrae Street...........172 awtwaem St. Charim anl Oarandelet, New Orleans. OataleStwlaabZa eaee ueatot FINE EATS nag 73 1y