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Morning Star and Catholic Messenger.
]W OSIEA S. U]IUNAY, Byt.PI"ZMIiEM t IMt CASTLE DALY: Story of an Irish Home Thirty Years Ago. ,Continued.I The walk was almost a silent one, for it was impossible to talk on any comrnon topic ; and the horror of the scene they had left ,)emed to grow instead of lessen in John's mind as they walked through the trmiling green valley in the glorious autumn afternoon; the air, fragrant with the thymy scent of the thou.and minute flowers that bordered the rod, mtsical with placid country sounds-steep hieatings and cattle lowings from the hi. side", and with the plover's bhrill cry as the bird skimmed aoros their path and darted away, ricing high in the air and dipplir g egast in starch of food on the boggy ant facu uo toe valley. "1 oannot get the ten eurb.r atce i f that man's face out of y mir:d," .lJoLn began abruptly, when they were near enoughl tr Ie village to hear the stroke of ' e httue chapel bell that was still tolling. "a ar afra·d the terrible re proach there was in it whenr be looked his ls.; on me v ill haunt re in every miearable or weak moment of my life henceforth. Yet. looking back soberly, as I must try to do, I don't think I ought to blame tmyself for any part of my conduct to Limt. I only did what I believed to be my duty." "It did not look like duty to hima, you ese, because he had grown up with notions of rights and law very different from yours. lie ap peared toyou only a lawless robber holding on to property that did not belong to him; but in his own mind there were stub in, blind beliefs in rights that had come down ti him through centuries of his accestors, and these were too much a part of him to be thrown off at any bidding of yours. lIe could not have explain ed hibself to you or any one, but the convio tion that yon were the robter and irjurer, and not he, was strong in his thoughts and confos ed all his relat ;o:s to you. I have oalt n talked over these things with Consin Anne lately, when we have beeu trying t > account for the terrible crimes this year bas witnersed among people whose generieity of nat'are we br!teve in, and fur tLie s ilw l pr, jpc:ts c'rret:t now among Connot'a friends." "If I had g.n t to stil i ap tild meeti:lc t' nt night, and been hout, Dl)e. ni would have been looked upou as a hero. Tlhese people would not have connected thbt criti with punish ment. Yet I was onuly .tit g in you'r father's interest." "They did not understaind that, because my father was sueach a careless ruler, and the change was so great and soudden. My dear father blamed himself, you know, and thought that death-shot his due." After a panie of thoughts J bhn took up the conversation again. "I begin to see where the fault lies. A few minutes ago I was saying vehemently to myself that at least I had been guilty of no irjustice, yet I felt that the sting of remorse would not strike so deep if I were really blameless. Now I see how it is. I ought never to bave come here, knowing so little as I did of the people I had to deal with, having scarcely glanced at the problen.s that rise up before me now us almost unfathomable. I know what Miss O'Flaherly thoungt of mny preesumption. If I had been less self-confident, lets oontemptnous of other people's doings, less full of systito, persapls-but I dare not look back in that way, the couaequences are too terrible. Your father's death, the miseral,e end of that man and his farnily -.t will not do to look back and truce cit.',leiucei s in cao-s of each tremendons importance; it would be giving oonscience too tirritile a power ; the borden of life would be too heavy r carry for a day." "Yea, indeed," said Ellen, "if we haId to carry all by ourselves. We should be t mptid to put off seeing our own share of responsabiliy In all the ill that hrppl'is, however mrch worse the suffering might be in the eqd, when we bad to see the truth.' "Don't speahk of uniretf as i 30oa i:idl " 3 share in the pain to daty hals brouglht to me ' "But I have. I don't think any great wror g or misery can befall without mioreor lheas l't nii belonging to all tt:e lookers-o:. It is a circ.e that apreads out firther than our dloll conort enoes can trace,. I1,re we hre in thle harole t I spoke of. That little co!t ige at:,ong the trees half-way up the hill is the Itiesi's honue, where you are sure to tinrd I,!aity of people to-day. 1 think I will go into 1hi ct-aps,el down there. Some serv ce or other is goig o!: cow, and I shall le:iLaps see uoblne' ic I kIoi,.v who will help ra if 'y-,ar errand f..l ; . a :' i I -hall rest there w hilr, .- ' go u;. t .e i ll." John disliat :ht d Ii Lu;tieis s i,,M r -p.v di:y than he expect, d, an.l t iirne.llii.tieps t-,etwar:-' the little whitewrlted buildting that ied the villagers for a plhucu if w.ilr.:i. . T.i ri,,,. row space was s, cruii~,':l to-d} a I:, ,, ,li, throrging rournt the 1 fi.r.t.t il t: t alt i,: a he had some d:ti.:i lt3 in tin,.liti I. Iilea. 11t saw her at last anr. g iat Irt ln ..f v _l kneellig in a circle a: t,e t ;.d oir te (lap el, and he tltmade t. i way n, to elr. 1.e wonul.u drew apart aus it' e lt , t . ittd to iiikle roorn firr him at htr bIde , aoil a:Linrt rvOluOitarily he knelt down a Iti ," way i .Let. i I 1, r. "l'tere was preahIing g-,ri' on. fIe had r,t c. int :u at the begii:ur g, a01 co'ill not tsake o it whether any teat fr t.the trr:oit hadl h'en given out: but the Sectteve- , "5tan: does not live by bread alone," was repeated reveral times i, the preacher, and cacti titme a groanu if acqun i oeuce burst forth fr.in the pale hips ,f t'i e famine-stnriken pIc-it'le kneelint; rouilnd, aho seemed to hatg nirni the epeaket'a winds as if they were food irlini d. 'The the preacher went on to describe in g'owni wOrds, and with much metaphor Oai.. e,. , er.i.o the spirit life-nourished by the true br.., tt, th:e fall enjoyment of which toe go .1 It,,it wl:o h'd addressed his tlick fruom that ,;,. ;t ao days ago had now etieredl. At arnrit,.r tl:ne, ,.iln might have l,-tet-edc trt :i .t - It,-- iaolinl g the wisdom or the utility of rer;'i in i reit, nnder such ciretristnct : b, I o.w . :,,., i, li on the tiuld ritor atounrg that ta iif l'ale ra:es that were gradually lisil rigtl.eir ihia,,tlivi- - n t'l der the illumtinration of holieinr thIte 'I.rcr , the set forth bl ,re teyis that iu everyr othlrr ,1lear tsr beheld oil) dueliair, he cioulh not ,itestlo. Irere wri ored.l---deipths alni lireathith a:d lengths anti Lheiguts t-f iut-lerTnrg--wse ich I, science or philosophy uf hbls coil,! r'a-h or touech, but which seemel here I thili-re words of childlike faith to titd *uulotioni swa]lIo ' d up in yet more unfat[ioruable herlts at.ld dtlepths and lengths and Lreadtht * of love, At the end of the srlrnon sometlhinrg was sald abit the new light wtli ch the dawnitig of that Eternal Day would cast on the perljleitiest and sutler loge and wrongs of our lives. It would be easy, the preaober saui, to frgive all wrongs, fal cied or real, whi;it oll the links that hadl bouond our lives together alid to God were made clear. Ellen turned her fTc,, rdrant with a tremu lous tearfuol eille towards him at the words and held out her hanR,. The moment he held itseemed to Joht Thornlrey to open the door for him into a new life. It ighLt not bhe a life of happy hunran loeve, but line tendting to high er, nobler, more self-.-crtiiciog ends than he had yet known : he prayed low to himself that st might be. the inex moment the bliesing was given, ther- was: a movement aonong the kneelels Iy the altar, aid Ellen rose and they left the place toger htier. They met Peter Lynch in the throng outside the chapel door who gave Ellen such a gloomy acooont of his nmitre as' state of health that she was glad to accept L is ofl'r of a seat on the three-wheeled car which had brought him to the village, and so hasten her arrival at the Hollow. John Thoruley after placing her in tbhe car shook hands with her in silence. It did not seem necessary for him to say, 'We shall meet to morrow." Toat hand clasp in the chapel seen:d .ijat then to have made him independ eat of future meetings or partings, and to have given him a spi'itoal hold on her presence so firm that no distance of apaes nor spite of cr comatance could ever oblige him to let it go again. Far or near, dear to her or indifferent, he bilieved he should live from heooefotth in its light. CIIA'TKIt XXXII. "Good Heaven: what sorrows gloomed that parting day 7 hat cailed them from their native walks away . When the poor exiles.. ver pluasure past. flung round the bowers a..t foedl looked their last, And looked a long farewell; anti wibsed in vain For eeats like theme beyond the westmrn main. fad sutodderug stiii to fae. the distant deep.' seterntd sad aept. and still returned to weep " DiariaED VI tl.A r. 'Yee. be was right; I have made mistakes. I would not believe anything contrary to my hopes. I chose to forget the other laws be sides my own that were ruling my little king dom. There was pride and presumption, as well as want of foresight, in my plans." 'But Mr. Thoruley says now that it was he who was in the wrong--hbe does indeed, Consin Anne. IHe accuses himself of presumption for dillering fromn yon : and I liked him for saying tIar, and beiieved in hits as I had never done bt tire." "Well, the purging io severe enough ; we ought to come out of it eriptiae of old, silf glorifyinz illusions at all events," Aunte O Faiberty, who, in the energy of her first opit ch, had partly raised herself from her sft. atrak hack weary and faint at these words, and Ellen came near to bathe her fore head, and make her smell a flagon of scent, concocted, after one of her own reciper, from Good People's Hollow wild flowers in happier days. 8be was slowly recovering from abed attack of the famine fevIr. "I't was it recovery, or only paening into another stage of illness I" Ellei sadly a-ked herself, when, having done what she cool to revive her patient. she re somed her seat by her bide, and looked loving ly at the chauged face. There was something on it more hopel es than traces of illness; there was a lifeless droop of the month ano eyes, a weight of weariresa and pain on the brows i 'heart break") Peter Lynch called it, which Ellen had fi-st noticed there before the fever atracked her, on her return from Gal way. where she had accompan:ied the lirst hadtl of eti;grants from Ler valley, and aean Item eu:bara in t .e ship that was to take thib. to America. Another party was shortly to follow, as m:ight he gath-.rod from the L.eayp of bond'es of clothing ticko ted wa : names that tilled the tabhi, and were piled up against t ie walls of the turret room, to the excluieon of the little works of art that had been stored there in old times. Ellet' tlingers had been busy on the component parts of another handle when the conversation began ; and Anne had only late ly let a flannel garment fall to the ground, be cause her weak tingers c.,old not hold it. In a few moinncs Ellen took up her work, and with the busy movement of her needle. re sumed the talk, beginning, without prefaca, on the subject that she knew her patient's thoughts were at work opon ' I think the letters from America that ar rived last night are quite as encouraging as we bad any right to expect. To be sure, the two old O'Shanes, and widow Joyce, And pretty little Katty Malouy, died on the voy age; bat a great many more of them would have died of the fever if they had stayed here. andil the rest of the party seem to have landed in excellent airits and hopes. Dint you like Mary Burki'e description of America-'A blessed land that God has made on porposs for the poor.'" "I onght to feel more cheered than i do; b it I an like a fotelish old Len-mother, whose brood has strayed beyond her power to cluck thbmi back to her. Those people, whose fore fatlere lived andt died on this litt'e nook of earth, rtder my foreiathere's protection, and whoi.e hearts seemed bound to the soil that nourisLed the m, I thought that God had given thtii into my hards to role and keep guard over ; and I watr t to be quite i ire that it is I;:e decree, and not my oeu nisreading of it, that c ruptl uire to prnu my hoon avid let them strat away." "Mir. Th ruley l.ao no dculst it'.a emigration is tlih right remedy for the present misery. He sayts that it tlri: a miich better lift, to the~e wt go awayway, and that t,eit.g rid of what lie cal a the sulpeus poplu:i.u ui,l iaimerseiy luiprove ti e cooulition of tnote who stay." "Ye.s. I unde" atid th: rleas in of that, if men or nati,'ne live:d by bread alone; but they don't, or at le ai we Iri-ti peopledond't T'here So ay .fng whLt is the sat plus population in a race where hearts are biand to Ltart: so in tI ately, that dietance can stretch bat nev r bre.tk the lukd. I don't believe t,.o emigra tioe will stop i; ji.t those people going who are not wa::ted hero. S:,oo ti.ere will be the; an~o tds ,f v, ii,,h calling i.uot' the other nil- ot the o, 'C,:me over t(I s,' ai.l. th In,'h, In. ai'1 the 1trtI,:c: rs, :tr. t'hie 1.]v.rs left s it the ct:.,r.:e tit i,.v'tart a tilt t'..: i" no inc left to hear it--tiil our valleys at.! our 1,!; rids tue ':.ply ir iilinh, *'.1 tby els ,n I d 5o to say that a itbltrstate oi ti. ge I ;. nout atte--fr i: , l:itri : but I atn at. Irnch woli:l ; I csinn t ht-lp having s, o i .:t tsisti rg at w it I fltr ru, bI;e ou r ratiaortI deli i thrcr " "C,nt.or won il rj ,ic- if a heard you sle il, in tlis fashiri , , onr.t Ante. lIe would c:aim yon as one cf :he lparty at once. Ilis friends are very angry -l,,nt the emigrst on. and s'ty, as y:,n do, toat now the tide ihas set in tnothing will step it but a revolct'on that restores independence to Ireland." "As I don't sty. You know I have no sym pathy with the baseless dream of Connor's party. though I may take te same view they do of what this crisis is for Irelan.l. "Connor says thin I'me is j'it the last possi ble opportunity for Ireland to stand up anti c:aim her it.dependeec, ee a no It d uation, for that if her people allow thein:ee:v s to be driawn or driven away from their ntive t*ol, the o'd links between, rich andit po.r a iii bie broken for ever; nrd that when tte i.'int ry conile tlck, ; - he believes tl ey w)l;, and claim the laud it will not be so u:nih a' Irich nair. against Englishmoin, ias p,.ir ai'L8 rich " 'that is eoki, lg firther alca-l t' an I vbhould have cretditi d Conoor with tlie: sition to do." "lis opinioii are a good deal fotrmed by hie friend l)'Arey O'l)annell." "'Then I snepect it was that same I)'Arcy O loiinoell who did me the din service of send intg me a newspaper, with a colnmn of warn itg and Indignation in it againit the promo. ters of tmuigration. I found it on my table the evening I got Iack fromnt (alway, and read it to the echo tin my head of my poor exilet' farewell sobs and groat r, and all through rev illness sentenoes from it were haunting me. It is there in the third pigeon-bole of my desk, still in the wrapper in which it came. I kept that to show the direction to Connor, and t ike his opinion as to who had troubled him self to launoh It st me." Ellen drew the newspaper from its hiding place, and nnwound the cover. "I will take It to Con ; but I think I can pronounce on these cnrves and dashee-they are D'Arcy O'Donnell's; Connor employs me in copying papers of his often enough for me to know his handwriting by heart. Oh, look, here is some thing written on the inside of the cover ; it is an old MS. sheet-part of a poem. I snppose there is no harm in making it out, for I dare say it has been printed by this tintme." "Read it aloud tome; I am curious." "I can't qnite read it all. I think it is a rough copy. The title ie--'A mother's Call': "Come bLack, ons over the sea ! Strong Ilmbt I bore. Ye mr mine rtUi1 ! Io you rhe. do ] oo move to me 1 to you bear, there, across tte toesingl briae. . .. . ...:.+-F~ :::i oeIn -for the great sea swelU- I small the breath of them. I bear the roar of them Lapping op to the shaore, Lathing the rcck-furies! 5 What do they come for r o Pireeofyours-yearsfull alomie- Home with a wild lament, Seas, Is it thle you brar I No. But the times that come, And the thatdera I bear. And the rent wide apart in her garment That covered nu blinded us, wouud us Chalns groond that bound us. That gyved s--sword that srank at our heart ' Leap to the rok. wave ! Leap to the latud. sore. 0 braves! Overram'ee, upon blood-trodden graves Plant year feet ! Come times, God-reverge. hlw., srre, eomplete ! "You don't make say remark upon It, Cousin Anne." "I am too unhappy. I was remembering how your father told me one day thot I most iart expect any good reesult to follow my poor e ff rts here, because the gronnd weas so full of dragne' teeth sown in the old, orjust, revenge ful times, that there was no room for good grain to grow till all the harvests of evil had been reaped. It does brirg a feeling of de epair when one sees that the only hope our patriots are pn'tnog before themselves is the opportunity t) begin sowing more dragons' teeth." "Yet when oppressed nations rise and i ig} themselves the world is glad. It is not so tog dragons' teeth if they socoeed." "That depends on the spirit which prompts and carrier out the rising. I dread the word 'revenge' for ns Irihb. Such dark deeds have been done on our side, too, that I have no faith in god coming to ne, till we have risen t a the heights of repentance and forgiveness." "I wish D'Arcy O'Donnell could come and talk to you. Do you know, Anne, he was in this neighborhood in the spring, and Connor wanted to bring him to you; but he refused, partly brcause he thought acquaintance with such a rebel as he would beditsist efl to you,. and partly because he has always kept aloof from his relations on our side-not caring to know people who, as he thinks, were hard on his mother long ago. He accepted Connor and me to consinship because we could have had nothing to do with that last-generation quarrel." "Nor had I ; but you see it's the same spirit in everything. We sow dragone' teeth in our family relationships and reap them to the last grain. Do yon happen to know the young man's address ? I should like to write and make overturoe of peace. I suspect he is very poor in friends older than himself." I know Le is ; do write to him, Anne, and make him come down and stay with you here lIe would listen to you, if be would to anyone; and that would bh good for Conuor. lie is in Dublin now. See, I have put his address un der his verses on the cover, that you may nut forgot it." "'low still the valley is to day '!" Ellen sail, after a little pause. "I suppose it a be cause the school-ho.ee and work-rooms are empty, and so many people gone ; but the place is not like itself with no buzzing and singing, and no red oloaks to be seen in the melancholy little bare gardens or on the hill sides." "Peter has given strict orders that none of the people who start. for Amerioa to morrow are to come to the lodge to wish me good-bye. I am afraid be has held out a delusive hope that, if I am left in peace to day, I shall be strong enough to-morrow to go with them as far as Galway and see them on board. But I most not put myself in the way of another sqch scene as that last parting on abhipboard. I wish some less gloomy person than Peter Lynch were going with them-some one who would bring a cheerful acconut back." ' Mr Tbornley T" "Ah, that's a good idea ; if he comes in to day I will ask him. He would manage for the e, igrants hettor than Peter Lynch, and talk them into good st.irits." ' It 1ound be easy enough for him ; he has not the least i le. what parting mea. to Good People's Hollow exiles. It is tnly mountaineers who ever have mal da ,pays I don't think anything could make me go ; the more miserable the c.nntry is the more I feel bonred to cling to it; and I think I should be very angry w:th anyone who I i:d to draw my afl-c'iot.s away froit justnow. I should so hat- mseslf if I felt them going." "Bt' ySou would be wrong. I am afraid Co.'i'i-r'e talk is ", wholesome for you." "I don't sympa" zs in his hopes, bat I feel bound to stand by him when he is putting himself into odang>: fr what, rightly or wrong ly, he believe to, be the good of the country. I shbould be very jealous of yielding to any in tliencethat woutt be likely ti draw us apart just now. I should feel it treachery to Con nor" "If a ~!rorger i; lthence than his came, you wea ll ave to follow it " ' at , t ~hall not come. Taere are women in Ireland now who are caring for nothing but 'tie crut i -y' ard the men who still hope for htr. I can Lmlae them.' 'Take care not to: fancy antagon;s-n where it io'sn Lnot ext. I a very much afrail of thae for yon, drat " "l':irn e sre orher thing- that I am much rn'ore afraid, cf f. r iyself: but I have lee yo' tuoli too lor.g; yo r c'.eeka are 'q ito t3i heid, a-id ion i-,,k !.o weary. We will not epealk a;rt:.er word t:ll I have finished t:ius petti coat I dartay It will be treaseired and ihanded dowtn i s a sacred relic, ttis last p;ee of hone-lpan G Cod Peioplt's Hollow tiaanel its posreesor will ever own." In alterna:e long silences and snatches of talk the morning in tie turret-room wore aw·-. Peter Lynch, with a face of coecen tr.t -t gloom, locked in now and then for cdrrsn. fhe breaking up of the kingdom was aim- et as deadly a blow to him as to his haolovd ~orn re's. Murdock Malachy limped in, to carry fif the bundles of g tls for the emigrao t as they were made up; and, direct ed by El·en, the little housemaids came back wards and forwards, from store-closet to. oel lar, bilnging miscellaneous contributions to the b'cdles, which varied in value from shell boxes and pin cs*hiins of Anne's manufacture of tn-t wioter evenings, and bottles of cor dial w, t tre, to homreapun cloats and Ilankets. Aii.- in roned ouit these treautaes with such a liberal hsnd, tlit the house seemed to b I in danger of being stripped to its wa.l!ls. "Tay mnust have a iri:e. oiverplue," tbe said. as ex cuse for her heri-'f; "they will b, packed in the emigrant vbip lith people sent from the workhocuse with hardly more belongings than slaves in a slave ship; and they would not feel that they were taking the Good l'eople's 4 tIollow lock with them, if they had nothing to be hospitable with." In the afternoon there was a lull in the bus iness of packing. Anne, outterly worn not, drooped into a heavy sleep on the sofa, and Ellen drew her seat into the depths of the wide window-recess to look out over the val ley. Then she perceived, what the stillness out of doors had prevented her esspecting before, that the I.t;:le garden was crowded with people, many of them on their knees. They looked as if t oey had been waiting long; Ssome partially hidden by the bushes in the garden, some cronched down behind the pro Sjecting sides of the window, out of sighbt, bhut ulose enough to hear the sound of voloes with in. Was t t> octoh a tone or two of Anne's Svoice for the last time they had come Mar dock Msltchy put his head in at the turret room door, and seeing Anne asleep closed it softly. A itoment after there seemed to have been some signal given without, for the orouchers under the shrubs and in the shed' owe of the window projections rose np by tweos and threes, and approsobed the front of the window till they commanded a near view of Sthe sofa and of Anne's face, turned so aa to | let the evening air refresh her cheeks. Then most of them fell on their knees again, and gazed silently. Ellen drew back not to im pede their view, and soon, to save them from the contagion of her own sympathetic grief, so moving was the eight of thboee gsiing faoes, pookered into grotesque contortions in order to keep down the smob that would have dis turbed the sleeper, or ~the tears that would have hindered the last yearning look. Whole families knelt together-old men and women, who had coaxed Ellen O'Flaherty to ask favors for them of her father, when her lisped requests were sore to be granted, and their grandchildren, who had come;t her with their lisped petitioons a month or two ago. Some took one look on!y, and then buried their faces in their hands, and rocked themselves backwards and f rwards, shaken with noise less sobs; others knelt rigid, and looked to the last second allowed them, with wide opened eyes, and pale, drawn faces, down which the tears trickled slowly and noheeded. 'As the souls that are let out of Purgatory on All Bools' Day, and have to go back at night, look at the Blessed Virgin through the windows of heaven," Peter Lynch whispered to Ellen, after he had signaled t) the last party to rise and go; and coming up close to the low window, crossed his arms on the sill, and con. descended to explain the scene to Ellen, and excuse himself for the sanction be had given to this farewell scene, which might dangerous. ly have agit ated his ci6treas had sue awakened in the midst of it. 'She," he said, no.iding his hoad towards Anne. "balieved me when I told her they would go off content to morrow without a last look at her: :lnt sorra a one of them would have moved. We'd have had a riot over it and the ship would have sailed without 'em. S, I called them together and made a bargain. ' Tyree minutes for each set of yon,' I said, 'as many ascan kneel by the window, if she fall asleep; and when I lift up my finger you're to getup and go.' And some of them have been there since morning waiting for tie chance, and there is not one of them but will go away with an easier heart for having had it." Peter's head here disappeared suddenly, for Miss O'Flsherty moved on the sofa and opened her eyes, and Ellen rose and bent over her. "I have had such a strangely vivid dream," she said, sitting up, with an eager, refreshed look on her face. " I thought I was dead al ready, and lying on an open bier in my grave. It was a dark narrow space where I.was lying, but a: one end there was a door, opening on a well lighted staircase, which, in my dream, I thought led up to heaven. I wanted to get nup and go to the staircase, but I found myself nn able t r ,s-there seemed to be a great weight just v.-r my heart pressing me diwn. Then I looked up. and through the roof of my grave I .a. a crowd of people standing ronrd it, and their tears trickled through the turf and fell on me iike lomps of lead and weighed me dowo. Tten I thought I heard voices calling me from the top of the stairs to come up, atdc one voice said, 'Why don't you pick up the tears and bring them with you to Me I' And at the sound of that, voice 1 seemed to have strength to rise; and I began to gather up the tears, and as I did so bright figures trooped down the stairs and took them out of my band. I expected to see the angels return by the way they came, but instead of that they rose up ttrough the roof of the grave, and took the weeping people by the hand and led t lem away. I looked after them, and saw that the bare, parched-up ground on which they stood became verdant under their feet, and on every side waved with gress and flowers and ripeoorn. You were the last left by the grave, and I was wondering what would happen to you. when I heard a sound of horse-hoofs coming down the road, and immediately the scenery of the dream faded, and I thought only of seeing your father ride up to this door, as he has done hundreds of times to bring you home when you have b en spending the day with me. Don't I hear the sound still 9" ' Yes," said Ellen, "it must have been that sound awoke you. There is some one crotssng the bridge; it is Mr. Thornley. I wish he had net appeared just now. I wish you had finish. ed your dream, and seen papa come for me." ".We must be patient: a great many messen gers come to us before the last. I am glad it is Mr. Thoroley; he is much bctler to me than the end of my dream, for he will help us through the rest of our day's work, and satisfy me about the start to-morrow. I can't depend on Peter's judgment quite as securely as I used to do. I have uLt'ovo a change in him since my illnees. H:s head is net what t need to b3." "Orrs:,~hr. MissO'Flaherlty'e~tenkth is fail. ing, its j .at that," Ellen said 'o John Thorn. ley. " a .e was t in mainspring of the life here, t ough she alwas a contrived to fix her sugges tions on .ther people, and ftnne tie credit of every succe-e due to them. Peter Lynch was her Frankeceteinmoro:t Ir, whom she had electrilied with activity berself, sad of whom she afterwards tt ,od in awe. It is sad to see how bewildered be is, poor fellow, now that the source of all him energy and importatce begins to fail him." " Ye, indeed. It almost took awla' my breath this afternoon to find the ir," t Peter Lynch c)inng to me for directitt:,." It was after two l.ours cf ohrd work. when the day was a: Lbut et ,dl, that E:len and J iln Thornl,-y fn 'it ;Fe for even n;much cJnter sation a' this. Jono hadl hadl halt an hour'e privalt' iitetri-w wi:th :li, O(Flaberty, arnd since th: n had Ib en actively engaged in secor ing that her arra:,;em,-nts for tI :e epsrtureof the pIar} of emigrani s on the next morning huirid be ,rp r ' y carried oit, . Ghila Ellen b'sed herself w.t1 e:;i;or Ge'.i::. , or i t carry. ing rnews- to Anrie of what wa : gti:,, , ,n out of doors. John had i oirinat d toat thi la,t rh. servance bh.d far bt Cr be on.ittld, Circe the hearitrg i.f occupation she had no longer strengtro to share was a n-edlees t:ain on Anne's .ondurance ; but Etlen co,id not bring herself t , acquiesce in suen a at trtling nove' t a- that irf any undertaking being brought t3 a conclusion in c;)od People's Hollow w:thout the mistress's participation :o every step of its progress. By this time the last package of goods had been piled on the great wagon that was to start as soon as the moon had risen, the last head of a family hbad been spoken with and duly instructed in the part he was to act next day, Peter Lynch hail gone cif to bed, and the entrance-hall, that had been more or less crowded with people and baggage for the last few hours, was emptied of all its occn pants but J01.n and Ellen. The front door stood wide open, and the freshness and peace withoot were tempting. "Miss O'Fahetty said yon had ",tter g, out for a walk before it weas qite dark-toat it would do you good," John soeggersted. " I will go as far as the br:ig-," Ellen said, "and then if I am wanted in the bonse they can call me back." The moon would not rise for another hour, and the nsunset lights had faded even from the tope of tre hills. A soflt pearly twilight lay evenly over the valley and the mountains, and the colorless river rushed in dark swirls and eddies round the arches of the bridge. Ellen folded her arms on the parapet, and looked down into it. " I am glad of the sourd," she said. " It is something definite to listen to. The stillnes herts me, for I fancied it full ef sobs and sighs. There are so many people weeping in the val ley to-night." Then she told her oompanion about theascene at the turret-window while Anne was asleep. John listened, looking into her eager, agitated face like one in a dream. The words, at least, were dreamlike, the face that looked appeal ingly into his for sympathy-the sum total of interest in the world for him. A few months ago it would have given him extreme pleasure that she should confide anything to him that troubled her; but now the contrast between her state of feeling and his own struck him with a deadly chill. lIe had quite made up his mind that this twilight halt-hour shoold de cide his fate. He could not bear again ,o leave her to snffer aloneall the trouble he saw belfore her, and there seemed no reason to wait longer before be spoke to her of his love; for he be lieved, in has new-found humility, that nothing but the overpowering strength f his affection , could win back hers; to show it to her full, -i;;~~i-..................... was the only chance of awakening ever so faint a response. And now all these eager words poured out before him, with so little thought of bimself in them, seemed to him, as he listened, to swell into a river of sound, sweeping wider and wider every minute be tween them-so wide, that the s:rong cry from his heart to her to come t3 him could only reach her thin and poor, as words spoken at a great distance. "I don't believe you care in the least for what I am telling you," Ellen said at is s: re proaobhflly, when a pause in her narrative came, to which he made no response. "I thought you would have been a little interest ed at least. You must have been, if yon had seen for yourself what I saw. '"-, Teen John turned away from her ard cover ed his face with his hands. He had always thong' t himself a resolute man, who had borne and could bear a great deal of pain without shrinking, but tie immense disappointment that the next moment might bring seemed jost then too bitter a downfall to to. risked at once. Should he even now abandonua h pur pose aLd give himself a little longer time to hope t For a moment or two he remained in silent struggle with himself. There was a surprised look on Ellen's face when, pale and resolute, oe turned back to her again. "I beg your pardon," she tegan siftly, "I see you did care very much." 'No," John answered, " I wes not even lis. tening to what you said. You won't be able to forgive me unless I can make you under stand how fall my heart is of another thought. I dare not call it a hope." "Can we have hopes for ourselves joet now 1" Ellen interrupted quicklv. "Only of one kind. Yes, let me go on; if a hope is more to us than life and death, we can have it even while we are standing between the living and the dead- Whatever was hap pening to ourselves and other people-if the world were crumbling round us, and you and I were left alone, I should still wish, as earnest ly as I do now t> tell you that I love you, and I should hope as I do now that you might find some little help or comfort in knowing of my love." There was a moment's silence, and as Ellen did not turn away, but fell into her former position, leaning against the wall on the bridge and looking op at him, John took coor age and went on. "There-the word is said; it has been on my tongue a hundred times when I have been with you. It is a poor word for the feeling that has been in my heart ever since the first moment I saw you. I can't make you under stand that. I know I have no words: people like me, who thabitoally bide their feelings, find themselves spellbound when they would give their lives to be able to speak out. Per baps years of loving deeds might show you s-omething of it. Leave to render them to you is what I ask. I should not have spoken so soon if you bad been happy; but as it is, 1 think it better to speak for the chance that the knowledge of my love may help you through this dark time, even if it cannot for a long while to come win back yours " Ellen listened to the end, and then let her face drop between her hands. ''Will not you answer me it all ?" John said. "Most I say to you, as you did to me: ' Don't ynJ care at all for what I am telling you?"' Then she lifted up a tear-wet face. " I. am so sorry, I am so sorry. How could you think that knowing that would help met* Don't be so very hard on me as to say that it would not help at all-that you utterly re ject what I offer." " I don't mean to be ungrateful." "Gratitude has nothing to do with it. I can bear anything better than that word from you. It is not gratitude I want from you." "And so, you see, I can never give anything you care for in return for all you have done for mamma and the boys, and for forgiving me, and ;going on caring for me, after that time when you must have thought I behaved so ill. You must really let me -go on being grateful to you for that, for it tlees memore than all your other benefits, though I know quite well how much you have done for unsall." "That's nothing; if it were, one kind word, one hopeful word from you, would overpay a millionfold." " It is your saying that, makes me so very unhappy." "I don't ask for it tow, only for leave to wait on, in hope, for years, till you can give it" "It would be no c~e. Years will only make it more imposeible for me to give you what you want. We have to go different ways. Don't you see that it is hard enough for me to have my heart torn between Pelhain and Con nor, who are both warting me to sympathiza with them on different side., dragging me dif ferent ways? If I loved you,--but I don't oh! I could not, I could not. Forgive me for being so decided. I don't mean to give you pain indeed, bbt the thought is dreadful to me " "Every answer Lr I or.e n:not give rme ain, and that one yoi M i. i o s .: sot give." "' I can't indeed;. i, 'lou . qrIito impL ssi bleA." "' Then dn't ltt rs say :vy :more about it." (To be continued., FUNERiALO, MARRIiIAGES, ETC.-Attention is eal:ed to the card of Coroner J. G. Rcche, which we publish In our a'lrertis:rg columns. He will take charge of tunerals and the embalming of bodies. Having been raised in the busineis and having studied it thoroughly, the Coroner never fails to give perfect sat isfaction. He has carriageseqiual in all reupecta to any in the land, and employs none but experienced and pclite drivers. His chargeo are invariably loio. Call on him at 25 and "252 Magazine street. For particulars regarding Electrio Belts, ad dress "Pulvermacher Galvanic Company," Cincinnati. Ohio. -WESTERN PRODUCE, LIQUORS, ET-. JOHN T. GIBBONS & CO., GRAIN, CORNMEAL AND HAY, i7, 59, 61, 3...New Levee ttreet... - 57,59, 1, i aUIl I ly Corner Poydrap, New Orleans. JOHN McCAFFREY, PEALhA IN IAY, GRAIN, CORNMEAL, FLOUR, ALL KINDC OF Western Produce Constantly on Hand. 28 and 30......... Poydrsa Street.......28 and 30 ntl +'t o t Corner of Fulton, BELLS. Chh.(rb. CAOOIý Ptca~rm. YlnbtObCQ· tow yrlceA, warraa4 .a". &h`>Ri, wlth q -tlm nolad· y Pr, · Pv.d u.t ms. Slimyer Manufacturina Co., Clnunrnat O. Jae 781yeow ttrll. HII of Copper and Tin. mouatcd with the brn Rotary Hang. ". f· or r &Arrer. rhm.. .nu 31 (IL EVE DELL FO!iNDRY. r&. Ch., 6. juar] 'AWD1ZEN & TlrT, rue seen .04 tbr i ~la.1_. a04 HOUSE FURNISHING GOODS FURNITURE. On the ruins o the honeM larely destroyed by fire I built up a handsome NEW STORE, which I am new Alling up with a splendid stock of NEW FUBNITB&E, purchased at LOW FRIOCS, which will enable me t SELL CHEAPER THAN tNY OTHER HOUSE in the city. PARLOR SETS, covered with Reps, aTerry, Hair Cloth, ete. BED LOUNGES and SOFAS. Handsome VICTORIA BEDROOM SITAt with Glau Door Armoire and French Dressers, DINING ROOM SETS, in Oak and Walnut. A large stock of LOW PRICE FURNITURE, uit-. able for oonntry trade. SPRING amd HAIR MATTRESSES manufactured t order. NEW CURLED HAIR and FRESH GOOSE FEA_ TREES always on hand. HUGH FLYNN, 167 and 169....Poyd .a Street..... 167 and 169 jel6 l Stewart's New Family SEWING MACHINES, $25 and upwards. Runs lighter, makes less noiae is the cheapest and most hand, ome (Sgur style)' machine in the market. J. BOOTH, GEnSeHAL AGENT, 614..........Magazine Street............614 w5w r,2LEANe, LA. AGENTrS WANTED myl7? ly E STABLISHED 157. G. PITARD, IMPORTER AND DEALE IN HARDWARE, GRATES, PAINTS, OILS. VARNISH. WINDOW GOLASS WALL PAPER, ETC., 221 and 223...... Canal Street......221 and Between Rampart and Basin streets ap28 ly New OaLeIAs. The Cheapest House IN THE CITY. THE MOST STYLISH AND DURABLE F -- " 3- _. :t U- re OF ALL KINDS. Parlor, Bedroom and Dininlroom Sets at very low figuree, and all warranted to be of the best material and workmanship. Call and see. IYou will Mave money by doing so before buying. Special attention paid to Country Customers. W. B. RINGROSE, ap21 7i ly illCamp street. V. BIRI, Importer, Manufacturer and Dea.er in WILLOW WARE, W*GONS, CRADLES, MARKET BASKETS, Work Basket·. Chairs. Clothes Baskets. German and French Fancy Baskets. etc. 120, 28" and 253 Chartree Streets, Ja0) 7. ly NEW OBLEANS. THOS. MbcKENDRICK, PLUM BER AND DEIALER IN COOKING RANGES AND BOILERS, BATE-ITUB?, WATER-CLOSETS, WASH-STANDS, KITCHEN-SINKS, LIFT AND 1FORCE-PUMiPS ALE PUMPS,.. SHEET LEAD AND LEAD PIPE, BRASS AND PLATED COCKS OF ALL PATTERNS, 1:-,.........Masaznoe Street-..........623 Above Josephine. REIAIRING NEATLY DONE. is : ly NEW CHINA MATTINGS. ELKIN & CO. 1G-............C.. Canal Streot............1 Are receiving new CANTON MATTING, WHITE, CHECK AND FANCY PATTERNS, in various qualities and at very LOW PRICES. We have a lurge stock of CARPETS, BRUSSELS. THREE-PLY and INGRAIN. Also, OIL CLOITHS. in all widths NEW PATTRENS OF WINDOW SHADES. 0021 77 1y A. BROUSSEAU & SON, 17------...........Chartres Street....... IMPORTER AND DEALER IN Carpetings, FLOOR OIL-CLOTHS. CHINA AND COCOA MATTING, TABLE AND PIANO COVERS, WINDOW 8HADES T CRUMBCLOTH-8 RUGS. MAT S, CARRIAGE. TABL AND ENA HMEL OIL.tLOTH[ WHOLESALE AND RETAIL. CURTAIN MAbTERIALS - Lac, Reps: DsmusL Cornices, Band., Pins, Gimpe, Loops and Tassel, flair Cloth, Plush, Bed Ticking and Springs BURLAPS. by the Baleand Piece. Pricee as low as those of any one else in the trane. c921 17 'v CARRIAGE MAKERS. JOSEPH SCHWARTZ & CO., IMPORTER AND DEALER IN Carriage, Wagon and Cart Materials, Bprings, Axles, Bolts, Ready-Made Wheels. 51 Bodies, Wood Work. Trimmings, PAINTS AND VARNISHES SARVEN PATENT WHEEL. Agent for the Celebrated BLAOKSMITH'S FAN BLOWER Carriage and Wagon Maker and Reparid - Salearooms and Factory - Nos. 43 45 and 47 Perdido Street, Near Carondelet Street. de2.3 77 ly NEW ORlaeAS. J. THOMPSON & BROS., Importers and Dealers in Carriage and .Wagon Makers' Material And Manufacturers of LIGHT CARRIAGES & SPRING WAGONS. ALL AT REABONABLE PRICES,. 68 and 70...South Rampart Street...68 and 70 n4 7 ly stwesa Osmsm sad ea