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Smilug Star and Cathosle Meosof r .
1SW O314A' IUNVAT. MAY 5, 336., frowa-up men and women Tor seratrand de "'hat sounds libke aying that Irhab men and women are nothing better than children. What do eu call me " "ardl as grown-up as some people. Bat, idet, 7 only meant our uneducated, wild. Want country peopls bere." "I am very much obliged to you for living o ouch a philosophioal reason for coming to h soon0alaion that oar honsehold will never work well together. Tou can't blame me now ior what I have come to tell you. Anne, I have given t all op. I made up my mind last night and told my wife, so there is no geing hlek mow. I am golng to turn absentee. Being sonvieted of iuncapacity to manage my own af fair by my brother-is-law, I have consented to put them into the bands of an agent of his hooeing, who is to live at Catle Daly and keep a tight hand over the tenants, while we pas our time in England or abroad-till Pelham It of age, at all event. 'Now why don't you oeIlaim-why don't you remind me that I have sworn a hundred times that nothing ebonld Induoe me to skulk out of the country esod leave my people to the mercy of a otrauger Where's your inodignation ' "You said you had made up your mind, and coold not go hback." "That's no reason for not abusing me. Come, nyeomething, good or bad; nothing is so omt,. one as silence from you." "What can I say but that it is a very sodden reselution 1" "Not so sudden as it seems. For years I have been gradually pushed towards it. You don't know the force of a persistebt wish in the mind ef a person with whom yon have to pas all your days, and whom you are always ying and failing to satisfy with somethitng eLse. There is an overpowering mesmerism in it. The moment comes when the temptation to end the silent struggle of wills becomes too strong to be resisted. Anything for peace, one saysat lat." But will it be peace t Won't you begin to have a persistent wish to get home again ? eow shall yeu feel i' "Good for nothing, and miserable; but what of that i My wife tells me she has been miser able here for twenty years, and thinks it is my tarn now. There should be give and take in matrimonial arrangements, should there not r" "I cannot but think she might be made hap py here, if only- " "Let me fnish your sentence---'if I had done my duty and been prudent years ago.' " 'No, if you woueald begin to do yourduty and be prudent now. 8hut up Castle Daly by all means, if you can't as indeed I know ou can't, raord to live in it; but don't leave the neigh borhood. Stay and do the needful work your. self. I can't imagine why you don't. It is not lack of energy or want of thought that has ket youn idle all these years." "Want of thoughtl No indeed ; it i too meeh thought-thought that has killed hope. You talk of my not being grown up. If look ing before and after is the characteristic of a man, I am one above others, for I do nothing else. It has paralysed my hands for other do. Iag. What is the use of throwing seed into ground that is ohokeful of dragon's teeth Thera are harvests of evil to be reaped in this land before anything else can come; and seeing that s plainly as I do, I have no energy for labor. If you were to die tomorrow, Anne, Good People's Hollow would be a bog again in afew years, and the people you are trying to drag up into civilization would be as open as any of their neighbors to have their passions ronaed by the first schemer who appealed to the old grudges and hatreds and wild hopes that centuries of cherishing have made stron ger than anything else in their nataree. There would soon be not a trace of your work left." "Granted; but what is that tome 1 If I can go npto Him who gaveme my work, hand in hand with one brother or sistey whose life I have made happier and better, it will be enough. That little bit of good will live as well as the evil you talk of, and survive it. I have noth nug to do with the sowing or reaping of other people's harvests." S"You are freer than I am, Anne. We come back to the root of my difioulty again. What ever other enemies I make, I can't bear to have foes of my own household; and within the last twenty-four hours I have come to see that if I don't yield this point of golong away there will be a division among us that will make family union for the future an impossible thing. You must hear how far the antagonism has gone before you judge. And that brings me to the princlpal canse of my being here today. A tue piece of work of Master Connor's it is that I have to tell you of. Has not he told you him self?" "No. I hope it is not anything wrong nothing worse than a wild prank that has turned out ill." '1t bas turned out very Ill; and unluokily the prank, if he means it for one, weas aimed at his brother, who is too like: his mother to be a bhappy subject for pranks. Pelham, I most tell you, had a favorite dog sent from England, to which (as it was a good house-dog, and barked at beggars) our servants took a thundering dislike. Unluckily, a few daysafter its arrival it threw down and seriously bhurt a little boy who had come to the place on an errand for Connor. Ellen and Conneor were mad to have the creature sent away on the instant, and Pelham just refused to part with it, as well he might, not choosing to be hectored by his younger brother. Small blame to him for that, on'll say. I was too full ofother things that day to give any heed to these quarrels. Ellen lays the blame on Pelham's contemptuous manner ; but, anyhow, Connor's spirit was roused, and he was resolved to have his way by fair means or foul. lie connived wi.h some of the servants to get the dog out of the yard, and carried it off himself and gave it into the keeping of two men well noted in the neigh borhood for mischief-Pat Ilanalan and Red haired Dennis, whom the guagers have been hunting from hill to hill the lest twelve months on acoeunt of a clever little still they have between them. I confess I've a sort of kindnems for the rogues myself, and can't be s angry with Connor for oolleagning with them s I ought to be, for many a laugh have he and I had together over stories of the o!ever shifts they've been put to. Dennis profesee to feel himself safe on my ground, and consid er that he has a sort of claim on my protec tion for having long ago found Pelham, when be had strayed away from home and was lost on a bog, and brought him safe back to the Castle. Maybe I have winked at his misdeeds long enough to make it seem hard that one of my hoousenold bshould turn on him-Pelhsm, too, who might have thought that he owed him a kindnese." "But I don't understand yet. How do you keow that Connor gave up Pelham's dog to those men ? And it he did, what harm has eome of it " "I'm ooming to that if you'll let me. We did not connect Connor's absence with the dieap pearanoe of the dog at tirst. Ellen told as he had gone to you, and I thought it was to work off a fit of the sulks. My wife and Pelham, skilfully misled by the hint. of a sharp your groom who I strongly suspect wae in Connor's secoret, need their suspicions on a beggar-we muan and a pedlar who had been about the plaoeon theday of theaooident. My energetio robher-in-law went off in haste to set the con stableo on the track of these people. It was a wrong olue, but it led to the right game. As the constables, with Pelham at their head, were soonring the ooontry, they heard the bay ing of a hound, as it seemed, far down in the centre of a bill. The sound guided them; they scrambled down a steep cleft in the mountain, found the entrance to a cave that had escaoped all prying eyes hitherto, and sueeded in cap taring not only the plant and the men they bad been after so long, bot the dead body lof Pelham's unlucky favorite, who had been pis, a tolled of course, the instant the distillers bad as inkling that their enemies were in their I nelhborhood." a "So the poor dog wa setually dead f" "Yes, and the two men are in prison, com- b mitted for dog stealing, as well as for the other b offense. Tbhey never breathed Connor's name, I mind yea, when they were brought before me. Ellen came out with the story wien she heard their fate, and you may imagine how disgusted I was. Connor is the person to blame, but all U the ill-will will fall to Pelham's share, for he ii was the moving case of the capture. He did not even recognize Dennis. He stood by while tbs constables did their work, saying very lit- k tIe, I am told, bat showing bitter anger at the w fate of hib dog. The thing will never be for- g gotten; it's a story that will stick to those two •4 boys for the rest of their lives here." "Connor will be bitterly sorry." f ''I hope he will have some comprehension of a the harm he has done; the thing itself is no b worse than a dczeson other escapades that have o paseed unnoticed, but coming Jost at this mo- b ment, it has been like a spark falling on a ton 0 of gunpowder, and produced a general explo sion. He could hardly have done anything to E illustrate more cleverly the evil effects of the b home eiucation I have insisted upon for him n and L .len, or to cut every ground of argument, a for keeping ourselves together, from undermy fi feet. Last night, after Ellen's confession, it ti all burst out-my wife's long-suppressed wish a to leave the place, and disapproval of my in- n dolgence of the younger children; my bro'ber- it in-law's pious horror at my debts and extrava- t4 gance. Small blame to me, I think, if I turn ed tail in the combat, and owned myself beaten as at last. My own sweet colleen came in for her n share of the storm with her father. They w blam. her for keeping Conner's secret so long. 9] If I can work myself. up into a proper state of anger against him, it will be by thinking of k the state of her blue eyes this morning. Well, Il since I can't protect her from blame, let them p try their hands and make her asmnch of an a Englishwoman as it's in her to be. When we n all come back again, if we ever do, there will a be less excunse than there is now for our split- o ting into an English and an Irish faction, b whose chief interest in life is to find fault with each other. Connor will have broken with his o old associates, and will not stand out in such V contrast to Pelham as to lead to perpetual re- tl mark." d "How bee Pelham behaved about it all T" a ' He does not say much; in fact, the lad o never opens out to me. dince Connor'sehare in the plot against his dog came out, he is silent 0 and looks irjured. His mother looks at him, b and refusae to take any notice of poor Ellen a when she hovers between the two of them, and ii offers little services to win a look of forgive- tI ness. It is as muh as I can bear to see it in A silenoe; yet Heaven forbid that I should put w myself at the head of a faction against my wife b and my eldest son. Now where is Connor I I must take him home at once. I suppose Peter es Lynch can mount him t" "He is down at the stone quarry, expecting ti a severe lecture, I hope. Shall I summon v bim 1" "No, I will walk down to meet him; and tell I Peter to have the horses ready as I pass 0 through the yard." tl Cousin Anne lay back on the sofa when she I was alone, longing for an opportunity to say a few soothing, peace-making words to her fiery- s tempered young cousin before he left her; but h her first glance into his face when he burst g hastily into the room to say good-bye showed b her he was in no state for even her words to b have a good effect, lie entered with a jaunty, f defiant air, meant to carry off his pale oheeks fi and eyelids swollen with passionate tears. b "So, Cousin Anne," be said, "I shall be a obliged to leave you and Peter to manage the mending of the three-wheeled oar by your selves. I'm very sorry, you see, but since I've been away they've contrived to make a dis gusting mess of things at home, the idiots! and I'm wanted to set them to rights." "Connor, I wish you would let me say a word to you." t ' No., no, Anne; if you are to begin to im prove the ocoasion, I vow I'll out my throat or run away to America and never be heard of f more. I'd be off this minute, that I would, C only it would be a shabby trick to leave Ellen and those poor fellows in the scrape they've been brought into by interfering idiots." 'Tbhat Son have brought them into, Con. Yes, it is a very shabby trick not to dare to so knowledge all the oonsequences of one's own sets and to bear ail one can of them." "But, Anne, you know-you know-I never I meant sueach consequenoes as these." "The letting out of water, Con; that is what I the beginning of strife is, you know. Of ooure e you can never tell where the current will carry you. I am very sorry for yon. I only want to persuade you to take your share of i blame bravely, and then you'll have-got more than halfway to forgiving other people what you think they have been guilty of towards I you and your friends." "No, I'll stick to my friends, right or wrong. and would to the end, if it was a man they had murdered instead of a wretch of an old our; and I'll never forgive Pelham for despis ing us all for being Irish. It's that and noth nlug else he means by all he does, you may take my word for it." CHAPTER VII. "Adieu to evening dances, when merry neilhbors meet. And the adale says to boys and girls 'Get up and shake your ueet.' To 'anschu' and wise old talk of Erinn's days gone by WOe trenched the rath on such a hill, and where the hones may lie Of saint or king, or warrior chief; with tales of fairy power. And tender ditties swretly sung to pass the twilight hour ; Tte mournful exile's sorg is now for me to learn." WILI.LIAM ALLI.,II* AM. A fortnight passed before either Anne O'Flaherty or her equipage were in uch a state of repair as to warranttheir tempting the perils of the rugged mountain road betwen the Hollow and the head of the LongE; but as during that time no direct news of the Castle Daly house hold'reached her,she made her first expedition out of her own dominions in that direction. Peter Lynch had by that time recovered his I spirits and his belief in his own and his mis tress' infallhbiity, temporarily shaken by their ignominions overthrow in the car, and was as well prepared as usual to entertain her throogh half a day's journey with contemptuons com parisons between the condition of their neigh bors property and the cultivation of the ll-Il low; but as the way lay chletly through Mr. Daly's estate, Anne was not in a mood to ac cept his fltattery es graoioosly as usual. Hier eyes were suflfoiently open to the tokells of neglect and mismanagement that Peter eager ly pointed out, but she oould not look forward with any satisfaction now to the hope of rem edy. The pleasure of seeing the low thatbched farm houses, with their tumble-down barns and fences, replaced by better buildings; red "murphys" taking the place of yellow "lump ere" in the potato grounds round the oabins ; and an improved breed of pigs ousting the long-nosed, long-eared Connaught variety of Sthe animal from its nook In the chimney con ners, would be lost to her, if the improvements abe had so long advocated were to be the work of a stranger. It was almost a surprise to her when the house came into view at last, to find it looking Just as usual, with all its doors and windowsa open to let in the sunshine, and cheerful signs of oooopation in the gardens and oourt-yard-she had been so busy pictoring it to herself as shut up and deserted. She observed a little group of people stand ing out in the sonshine before the front door, when she drove up to the lodge gate. T'hey had not assembled to welcome her, for they were all colleeted round another vehicle drawn up before a side door, which seemed to await some last arrangements to take its de parture. Mrs. Daly was among the grpop, leaning on . b arm of a stout, midd-aed man, who I seemed to be sexpoestlating rathber loudly with a the servants bhanging about the ear; while Ellen, with her arms piled with pillows and a abawis, stood a little in the rear. Anne left 1 TbIioteiwifeaEarto i rrlrd a-o the I back preintes, and exhibited in triumph to a his acquaintanoes there by Peter Lyneb, and a walked down the drive to announce herself. 1 Ellen espied her when she was still some I ards from the house, and impetuously throw- i ng her load down on the doorstep at her a mother's feat, rushed to meet her cousin, giv- I ing her a frantic squeese in her arms before I she exolaimed, breathlessly, I ' Oh, Anne, Anne,areyou really here Do ou Iy know that we are to leave Castle Daly in a r week's time from this e I think I should have gone wild if you had not come, and I had had i to leave home without seing yon again." b "I think yon are wild," sad Anne, looking a fondly down into her favorite's face, that bad I a new wistful expreession on It that went to her heart. "If I bad not come to you, of v course you would have oome to me. Why, I y bave been expecting you every day this fort- I nlght." It has not been my fault," whispered a Ellen ; "and I don't think mamma would ever . have let me go to you again. Do you know, I my Uncle Pelham was dreadfully scandalized r at Connor's running away to you, and at you for keeping him. ln all that has happened he I thinks you quite as bad as Connor. He says a almost every day that from all he hears you 8 most be a thorough Irishwoman, and you can't b imagine what a dreadful creature that means t to him. Tuere he is, standing by mamma." b "A fine, goodnatured-looking gentleman," t said Anne. "I think he will bear the sight of c me, even in my shabbiest home-made oloak, without injury to his nerves. Let me go and B speak to l.m." o Mrs. Daly advanced a step or two to greet d Miss O'Flaherty, and Anne thought that the y last few weeks bad made a change in her ap- a pearance too. The extreme air of invalidism a was laid aside, her dress was brighter and f more becoming, her step had more life in it, as and there was actually a smile-was it a smile IJ of triumph T-on her lips, as, laying a passive g hand in Anne's, she said "I am very glad to see you are able to come p out. Mr. Daly was getting quite anxious. ea We are so busy preparing for our departure tl that we did not know how to spare a day to drive to the Hollow. Yet we would not on n any acoount have left the country for a length i of time without sayii g g ood-bye to ,ou." I Anne was well rc.nrooned to the rn.,,, o'asp i of the hand, .and to thbe pcoouliar sensption of being looked ast oit ,.t htmlo rooguoe d. with ii which the mtst.reaei o.s!le 1),! prteioolar d ised her greetings to her, but the nai!e and i the triumphant emphasis were something new. s A fresh, and perhaps a more galling pin-prick V wound than she had hitherto had to harden a herself against in that place. a She would have received the remark in silence if the sound of an irritated tap of the y foot from Ellen behind had not warned her I that it was safest to rush into indifferent con- a verestion at once. 0 ' You are preparing for a departure already, a I see," she said, stooping down to pick up one It of the pillows Ellen had thrown down; "and ft the person you are sending away is an invalid, I fear, from Ellen's preparations." h "It is well for Ellen's patients when there is 1j someone to look after their comforts beside herself," remarked Mrs. Daly, with a severe e s glance at certain cushions and shawls that a bhad rolled down the steep steps and were ti being trampled under the servants' feet. "A it few minntes ago she was ransacking the house ii for comforts for Murdock Malachy, who is to be removed to the hospital in Galway to-day, v and you see where her preparations are now. 1 You know, I suppose, Ellen that you threw down the bottle of wine you begged so hard d for, and that its contents are soaking your own y woollen shawl down there." s "Mamma, you will let me have another," a pleaded Ellen, her eyes full of tears, and her face one crimson glow of shame and mortifica tion. "I know Im very silly, but indeed I could not help it when I saw Cousin Anne." d ' Cousin Anne is not much obliged to you for pleading the sight of her as a sufficient ex- f cuse for sillinees I think you might have I found something pleasanter to say about her I on her first introduction to your uncle." "Come, come ; never mind," put in Sir d Charles Pelham, who was not proof against the sight of tears in such pretty eyes as Ellen's, and thongi t his sister rather hard on c her daughter at times. "Let Ellen run in and 1 get another bottle of wine- and permit me to 1 shake hands with Miss O'Flaherty, of whom I c have heard so much. The child is a good i child enough. You should take her as she is, and make allowance for blundering." "That is kind," said Anne ; "if you will make allowanoe for blonderlng I see a hope of I our all getting on-." Sir Charles was puzzled. The warm smile I and gracious oordial air contradicted anything of sarcasm he might have suspected in the I words. "A much better looking woman than I ex- 1 pected, and quite the lady. I wonder why Elinor hates her so I' was hi mental verdict; while A.ne reading his thoughts in the slow glances of his eyes backwards and forwards between herself and Mrs. Daly, came to her I own conclusion. "He has prejudices, but he Is a man," she thought, "and therefore capable of Justice ; he would never, if be watohed us for twenty ! years, artive at understanding the feeling that I obliges us two poor women always to show the worst side of ourselves to each other. No, not if be knew-as of oourse he cannot know that one of us never forgets that she has be fore her the woman who bhas married the man she loved, and the other that she is talking to the woman who refused the man she has married." A little commotion among the crowd round the car now recalled Mrs. Daly's and Sir Charles' attention to the subject that was occupying them when Miss O'Flaherty made her appearance. Ellen returned from the back premises with the news that poor Mor dock was really cjming out now, and a do zn eager, curious, symtthetio faces prepared for lamentation and condolence were turned to wards the door. "Is he so very bad ?" asked Anne, catching sight of a bout figure, slowly crutohing hip self down the front hall, helped or rather hindered by an old woman, who supported an elbow, and broke out into tremulous "Ochones" and "Saints preserve us," at every painful step. 'Thie is precisely h"w it is." rxplained Sir Charles, takitr g toe ns er on himuself. "If thelad had been sent off to an hospitals month ago, when the acoldent occurred, as I advised, he'd have been well by this time, and would have had nothing to remind him of his mishap for the rest of his life; but be has been kept here, with a dozen people fnresing after bim, exciting nim with news, and set ting aside the doctor's orders till it has be oome a serious case. I have interfered pretty strongly to have him sent away and put under proper treatment, for I saw it was his only chance of getting well." "It's the thought of our going away, and of the parting wits Connor, that has taken all the heart out of him, and hinders bhis reoov ery." whispered Ellen. "Now, my good woman," exolaimed Sir Charles, as old Mrs. Malahoby came within hearing, "do show a little self-control, and help your grandson, into the car without all that hubbub. You can't make his legs straight by crying over them; you only dis trees him and everybody near by your foolish outcries." "But this and by that, is it stone atd ice that you think my heart's made of, that I'm not to weep and shed tears when I see my own boy, that was the light of my eyes, and all that I have left me in the world, barring the son that's breaking his heart, this minute in prims aleag of your bees'eeders, tSrned aout a cripple, and helpless, to die in a strange plase. I'll tell you tblis plainly, your honor, sad my lady-' By th time, Mrs. Malaehy had arrived full I. front of Sir Charles sad sudden halt, fied on them two eyes in which a fash of angry fire seemed to burn up the ears. "Ill1 sll you this plainly, if you had leit hbe boy alone to die seasy in the bed where he was taken, after he had been killed at your door by a wild beast, it's broken hearted I would have been, bat I would not have had the soze angry heart I carry this day; I would have borne the will of God peasoeabhie if you would let the boy die easy under the roof that he love a." '.Then you are a stupid, ungrateful old woman." answered Sir Cuarles, not angrily. but in the cheerful decided tone, he thought appropriate to uneducated old people, whose intellects could only be reached by strong words and shouting--" very stupid and a wicked old womn, I should call you, to wish your boy to die in one bed instead of getting better in another. You ought to be extremely grateful to Mrs. Daly and to me for taking all the pains we have to find out an hospital where he will be quickly cured, and to Mr. Pelham Daly for paying the expenses of his removaL" ' Your honor need not have been afraid that I sebould make a mistake about who it is we are beholden to, for this same sending away. 8ore the names you have spoken were in my heart, and on my lips, and I will never forget them ; but oohone ! ochone ! that it should be in this house that a hard thing is done by the orphan and the poor, that will bring the curse of God down upon it." "Come, come, my good woman," interrupted Sir Charles, potting his hand authoritatively on her shoulder, and giving her a gentle shove down the steps, "you are behaving very ill; you had much better hold your tongue, cursing and that sort of thing cannot be allowed. I'm a magistrate myself in my own country, and I feel it my duty to put a stop to bad language, so get into the ear at once ; and perhaps Mrs. Daly will be good enough to forget your un grateful conduct." Molly tottered down the steps under the im pulse of the shove, but turned round undaunt ed at the bottom to shake her withered fist at the house. "Frget, will she I No, your honor, it's re niewber, she will, one day, when bhe sees her ownu carried in the same way that mine's turned out. It's remember my words she will." '"Ba silent, you old hag," roared Sir Charles, thoroughly roused to anger at last. "How dire you frighten the ladies by your wicked eoo.sesee! I f you speak another word you a an't go to the hospital with your grandson. We will leave you behind in Ballyowen to make acquaintance with the inside of your son's present lodging." "Kindly welcome you are to take me where you please, for it is against my will I go either way," said Molly, deliberately mounting the car, and dropping down in a heap in one corner of it" "I've said the word that was burning in me, and had to come out; and now word nor look, ourse nor blessing, will the place get from me again." "Someone lift the sick boy in, and let's have done with it," said Sir Charles impatient Murdock had remained on the top of the steps, pale and panting,I after the exertion of moving down the hall; but when, in obedience to Sir Charle's orders, two servants lifted him into the car, he sent wistful glances round, be if in search of someone. Ellen divined the meaning of the look, and whispered to him, while Anne settled the pil lows under his bead. 'You'll see Mr. Connor in Ballyowen, Mur dock. He'll be waiting at the car-office to help you into the public car, and wish you good bye again. He went in to-day to see your uncle, and he'll bring you good news of him." "And the other yousng gentleman t" 'He has gone into Ballyowen to day too with my father; but you don't want to see him, do you, Mordock ?" If he'd cared to see me I'd have left a word for him now I know I'll die." He's your brother, Miss Eileen, and Mr. Connor's. And now I know I'll die, I'd not like ill-will to rest for ever betwixt us, for the sake of a dog that's dead." "But you are not going to die, Murdock," said Anne, cheerfully; "the hospital is a very different place from what you think it; and before the month's out I'll come and see you there, and if you don't like your quarters I'll carry you off to Good People's Hollow, where I defy you not to live and get well, and where you'll hear every bit of news of Miss Eileen and Mr. Connor that comes to me." A change came over the loy's face as if new life had been put into him. "Then maybe after all I will live-if Miss O'Flaherty says so. Maybe I will." "Yes, I do say sc-only keep up your heart till I see you again. And now good-bye." Mrs. Daly had slipped her arm within her brother's arm, and come close to him during Goodie Malachy's harangue; and now she drew the shawl she wore closer round her and shiv ered a little. ' Let ns go back into the house, it is cold here even in the sunshine. How glad I am we are leaving the country so soon. I am not in the least superstitious, fortunately ; but I don't think I should ever have got that horrid old woman's threatening face out of my mind if we had stayed here." "It's the stupid ingratitude of it that pro vokes me," muttered Sir Charles. "Ingratitude is the one thing I can't put up with; one meets only too muchb of it among the poorer class in England, I'll allow, but here it seems to be the rule that if you take particular pains to bene fit a person, be hates and abuses you in pro portion. And they call themselves a good hearted people. That's what I don't under stand." 'Is anyone ever grateful for being benefited against his will I" asked Anne. "Bat while they are such ignorant savages as that old hag who cursed us just now, against their will is the only poessible way of benefiting them." "Then you must look out for some other kind of reward than gratitude." Anne turned to Mrs Daly. "You are really leaving -the neighborhood in a week's time, and the dear old house will be shut up '" "Not altogether. A connection of Sir Charles Pelhamn's, who is going to act as Mr. Daly's agent, will onoopy part of the hones. It is a very good arrangement, and enables us to get away sooner than we otherwise should. Mr. Daly cannot bear to linger over a parting; and I confess I am in haste to be gone, for I don't think the plaoe nsuits my eldest son. I have always hitherto denied myself the plea sure of having him with me on that sooount, and now we all feel that it is time he took his place in the family. You have not seen him yet, hasve yout He is out just now with Mr. Daly and Conner; but of course you have come to spend the day." If the invitation had been twice as un graoiously given, Anne most have aooepted it. She felt she must have one more day to add to the many long days spent in Ithat house, which, glanced back upon, seemed to be step piDg stones in her monotonous stream of life marking all its chief interests and pleasures. As she sat making company-oonversation with Mrs. Daly in the drawing-room, or walked about the grounds with Sir Charles trying to listen to his stream of talk, she could not help recollections of past times rising one by one be fore her. The days when she used to ride over on her pony by her father's side-a proud little maiden of seven or eight-to spend holiday or birthday in playing with the two yonog con sins, with whom she enjoyed the nearest ap proaoh to brother and sister companionshabp she knew; the days she sat on the lawn with Dermot's lesson books in her lap, and Dermot himself lolling on the grass at her feet, trying, with all the fores of her will, to ke bser.artle thoughts shaied to his work for ive mlnuote together, and feeling a little sore a· bhear all the time from a sense of the unpopular part her eoneoleeoe obliged her to play. Theday when lake, and be sonfided to her some soboolboy scrape he had got lato, and she persuaded him to oonfess it to blehi father; and they went back to the bouse together. t the very threshold of old Mr. Daly'e study-door hand in hand. The day when Dermot out of perversity would make his horse take a desperate leap over a mountain torrent, and she had been startled by the pain she felt during the mo ment of espense as to his safety, into taklong herself to task about her feelings towards him for the f st time. The summerday when light. hearted, winning Ellen Daly, the elder, pacing the flowery garden walks with her, told her the story of her love for the manwho broke her heart afterwards. The day, year after Ellen's ill-fated marriage, when Dermot in a fit of despair acd disgust with himeelf, had asked her to be his wife; and she, painfully weighing every word, had seen definitely how muoh and bow little of love there was in the asking. The day of old Mr. Daly's death, when she had seen Dermot unbappy for the first time, and had half repented the deoision she knew was so wise. The days when she had worked bard alone to beautify Dermot'. house for the arrival of his English bride. The day when Dermot had come down to meet her in the ball with his baby heir in hie arms. Sweet days, painful daye-days marked by some pin prick of a hard saying in them; days colored with the soberer light of advancing middle age, when the wounds given in the vivid days of youth were gradually being healed, and new interests and relationebips were growing up ; till such a day as this was reached when she could walk up and down the old paths philo sophising on her past feelings, and finding in the present that her strongest affections and interests oentered round the young genera tion. (To be continued.) Ever the most popular as well as the beet e Sewing Machines, as has yearly been proved by oncial returns of the number sold and by the numerous pre mlums and prizes awarded it at all State fairs and ex hibitions, the celebrated Sioza FAm.T MAcurn has again come to the forefront as being cheaper than any other, or even than the bogus imitations of iteelf offered for sale in some quarters. During the past twelve months the company have so reduced their prices as to put their machines within the reach of all, and no home, however humble, need now be without so inestima ble a treaeure. Care should be taken by the pur chasers not to be imposed by parties selling imitations of the Singer. The beet safeguard that we know of against this danger. is to call at the Company's splendid store, t0 Canal. street, where the very efficient and courteous agent, Mr. 8. E. Bundle, and his polite as sistants, will see that you get what you wish and that at the very lowest prices. For particulars regarding Electric Belts, ad dres "Pulvermaober Galvanic Company," CinomaUnti. WATCLZE, JEW.LRT, EAL. TYLER'S. GEORGE E. STRONG Begs to announce to the public that he has purchased the fixtures of the store and good will of the business of E. A. TYLER, and is now open with an entire new stock of DIAMONDS, WATCHES, JEWELRY, SOLID STERLING SILVER AND PLATED WARE. This stock has been selected with great care, and purchased at bottom prices, and to it will be added from time to time all the new patterns and novelties as fast as they are produced in the New York market. The favorable conditions under which these new and attractive goods have been par chased, enable us to offer the same at prices lower than ever before. The Manufacturing Department as here tofore will be in charge of Mr. Henry Good win, which is sufficient guarantee that all Diamond work and the manufacture of any article of Jewelry will be executed in a manner that cannot be excelled in any city. The Watch Making and Repairing De partment will be in charge of the most skillful and reliable workmen. A Designer and Engraver has been em ployed, and all goods purchased can be en graved on short notice. 115-----Canal Street-----115 ap28 Im MONEY TO LOAN ON DIAMONDS, JEWELRY, WATCHES, SILVER. WARE, PIANOS, LOOKING-GLASSES and FURNITURE of all descriptions, and all other personal property, Guns, Pisatols, etc., etc. - AO - On STOCKS, BONDS, and other Collaterals, in large and shall sums, at as low' rates of interest as any chartered institution in this city. PLEDGES KEPT ONE YEAR. Hart's Loan Office, 43....... ... Bronne Street.............43 (Opposite the N. O. Gas Co.) IAURICE J. HART, Agent. N. B.-Partues not being able to call in person, will reoeive prompt attention by communicating with the abore. ALL BUSINESS STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL. The buosines of 48 St. Charles street, 5nown as " Hart's Brokers' Office," will he continued as hereto fore. mhl7 78 ly JOHN P. ROCHE, Jeweler and Optician, Watches and Jewelry Carefully Repaired. SPECTACLES AND EYE-GLASSES Of Every Description. Particular attention paid to ruit the sight accurately. No. 98 Camp Street, 30M 77 ly WWW Olua.Us. COMPOUND OXYEN. MVee i utr.ue ooemf oe iOt L088 OF VITWUT I ... h eA. seter S a cmi. and p To4 n. macn to nrm Anti laia. F koNr sale in all9100 r EtOW who havre uSed te new are cii r.- e. with any a en reMaln f o rise iseerke ble ua . re o e . . Acm -'. Excellent for an Anti.Malarll Merinug Bte V , LOW PRICE. PURE AND RELIABLE, Foe eate in all quantities by ALF. WALZ, ..............Coet Streeto .. ..., fel 78 ey Soloe Manufacerer. - 710 A paoitive ure for ghenmatim. Gout, I GIELRWICZ AA T kHLUMebIe MT te the most popolar medleio in the country m aoo is mid than all other Rhenmatio Medltne and i ie the moe t costly patent medicine fer * in existence. It re ommended by all the ladleg physteia, tam pure vegetable mixture. Should she elatit ged relief from the use of one or two bottlee ha amured that helir not nffering from any oef the direae, and it will be of no use to cnotmne is. For sel by the principal druggsta. Prise, n1 50 per bottle. er SLEW & CO., PrepriettN, des T ly P.O. rox 1400, Nser (kle . FOR l.,r I'arn~pl.c ..ddresa Da. Snreroms, New eek., e90 lyeow A BYSTERY SOLVED. The GreEteet Medical Triumph of Mode Times I The Mysterious Channel of Di.B emee Discovered, and a Certain Curs Provided. The Stomab, Liver and Bowels the Centre of Dieae. Parsons' Purgative Pills, The Great Anti-Bilous Remedy and Miaematio Dissolver. PARSON'S PURGATIVE PILLS Are the result of long-sontinued Soienttlo ta4kti tioes, and are warranted to cure ali diseae gisag in the Stomach Liver and Bowels. No rip epaSe lollow the nue of these Pills, unless the Besels me inleamed ; but RELIEF, IMMEDIATB RELLEF, ma be relied upon. As a common Family Phyate PARSOR'S PURGATIVE PILLS Stand uneqealled before the world to day. vy, lug the doeo aoording to directions. Parsos' tive PIle effectually purity the blood ad gre alleviate, If not entirely cure, Dyspepais e eU Ring's Evil, Bosee. ryelipele or St.- Atboey'e Nb Eruptlons and Eruptive Diseuee of the Skin, el Rhenm, Tatter, Ringworm, Sore, RollS, T atw Morbid Swellnge, Ulceratlons, Pimples and mtehe EVERY BOX WARRANTED Meet Complete Satisfaction Guarantee4er We Full directione around eoach box. Pbyeslmme by mail, poet-paid, for $5 0 per thoumand, in In dvanoe, We will eend thee. Idle to ey1 druggit or merchant to all on commiasion. Aents wanted everywhere. I. S. JOHNSON & 00, Je54 77 ly Manufacturers, Bmager. 2i]We. SARRACENIA LIFE BITTERS. Nearly every icknem that befallse man er w t' correctly traced, proceed from derangemaem ofem vital organe. the Stomach and Liver. Fevers, etc., are but esequenoee. The SARSA ROOT is neture'e own remedy for thes Meeesal ordere. Thoueends of the faculty, in Erepe Amerioa, testify to it ingular medimdn pree5ee Dyepepein.Waating of the Syatem. tontipbe.- .l the like. au d the wonderful coure efleoted by ti delightful of all tonio cordials.l Mrs. GREGORY, Mayerille, Ky., writes " My health is permanently reetor.d nee 'I ha been using the ~ARRACENIA LIFE BITTEB. Every woman Souoth outh. to use this eplendid Dm11 Tonic. Send another box by expree." my1327 ly Druggiete, New O-. WESTERN PRODUCE, LIQUORS, ITC. JOHN T. GIBBONS & CO., GRAIN, CORNMEAL AND HAY, 57, 59, 61,63...New Levee Street...57,60, 61, aun2 77 ly Oorner Poydrasa New Orl)s JOHN McCAFFREY, DEALXR Is HAY, GRAIN, CORNMEAL, PLO ALL KINDA 07 Western Produce Constantly on Uand 28 and 30.......Poydras Street....... 98 orener of rulton, aulE 77 ly sEW Cr ur ANDREW LEO, CARPENTER AND BUILDER, io7o AND sRor. 459 Magazine Street. near Race. 1e ord rlf ther erattex e 94 to. asaiam1d ixboma, GfavtI ud 8i OwuLeas s l2s,I wusA, ,mp9I a5t9a14 t. -