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HY JfATIYE LAUD. >'early two hundred guests met Rev. S. F. Smith, author of “My Country, ’tls of Thee,” at ttie residence of Hon. Horatio King, Washington, D. C., last week. Dr. Smith Is a very pleasant looking old gentleman, though by no means venerable enough in appearance to he the author of so old a lyric, which, it appears, he composed when a the ological student at Andover. He is now, -,nd lias been for years. Professor ofTheology in Newton Theological Seminary. The following hymn, written by Dr. Smith for the occasion, was read by him: MY NATIVE LAND. We wander far o'er land and sea. We seek the old and new, W'r try the lowly and the great. The many and the few: 11 - r states at hand and realms remote. With curious quest we roam. But find the fairest spot on earth Just in our native home. We hold communion, high and sweet. With men. in ancient lore; By day, by night, with reverent eyes, < Ter volumespld we pore* But Koine, and Greece, and Orient lands, And heroes far away, Great In their times, still lack the charm That lights our own to-day. Wo seek for landscapes, fair and grand, Seen through sweet summer haze, Helvetia's mountains, piled with snow, Italy's sunset rays; And lake, and stream, and crag, and dell, And new and fairer flowers; We own them rich, and fair; but not More grand, more fair than ours. With solemn air we tread where trod The feet of ancient men, And fill old palaces and courts Willi echoing sounds again; Temple and forum, bath and arch, Unearthed, tn glory stand, These with admiring gaze we view. But crave our native land. We hear with joy the goiden speech Of men of high renown. We see with praise the Jeweled wealth Of scepter, mace and crown; But dearer far the golden words That made a people free: And crown the scepter pale before A nation’s liberty. Oh land where saint and pilgrim came, With loftiest purpose fraught, Nurtured in hardship, toil and taith, Oh land Divinely taught. As streams the light, from headland tower, Guide o’er t lie stormy sea. So hoj>e, to all the oppressed, beams forth, Dear native land, from thee. lUBIETTA'K AUTUMN Ala SOXCI. 11Y K. P. HUDSON. The fro.it of sear November Has snatched my flowers from me, And change dthe green to yellow Upon my maple tree. The little cheerful songsters That sung on yonder spray Have flown to .Southern regions, Where winter bolds no sway. 1 sigh to see tlic forest Divested of its line; l sigh to see the meadow. Where once sweet lillies grew, Tims swept by chilling breezes, With frost, upon their wings— With death in their caresses. Which to each blossom clings. O harbinger of winter! Dire foe to all I prize! Why veil the suns of brightness That lit the summer skies ? Sear Autumn, he relenting, And chill not nature so; Let not t.hy frost flakes pinch us, Let not thy breezes blow. (Written for the Sunday Enquirer.] THAT WIDOW. An Original Story in Two Parts. BY NELL TELL. CHAPTER VI. When the doctor came Mrs. St. ledger refused to see him, saying she was perfectly well and needed no thing hut rest and quiet. And next morning when, against mamma’s advice, she would leave lier hed, and came down to breakfast; no one would have recognized in this elegant, nun-like woman, the bril- liant dashing queen of Sibley fete, and the daring heroine of the lake. As was but natural and proper our neighbors came over early to inquire after the results of the accident, but St. Agnes was not to be seen. “Dear me, I was in hopes after the events of yesterday she would leave off her exclusive habits, and become more social,” said Bell Lamon. 'Oh! she’s is a strange one, and in my opinion puts on more fine airs than any duchess. But with all her grandeur she lacks one thing, and that is common sense.” And after this explosion Tone Cary flirted im patiently away, and, seating herself beside a great basket of oranges, began peeling and eating as if the golden fruit was the widow whom she was devouring. “Perhaps site is a duchess incog; who knows?” laughed Lulu. “Ora lunatic,” growled Tone, with her.mouth full of fruit. And at that moment she fairly hated the magnifi cent widow. “Come, lone,” I said ; “you ought to b“ more charitable.” “Yes,” she responded, “we all need a superabundance of that lieavenborn quality, for it covers a multitude of sins—Mrs. St. Ledger amongst the rest, strongly suspect.” This was too aggravating, and Lulu highly resenting such an imputation against her favorite, said : “Well of all silly girls, lone, I do think you are the silliest. Why can’t you let Mrs. St. Ledger alone ?” “Because it does me good to speak the truth sometimes.” “Whenever you feel thus disposed be sure I’ll not stop you. But let me see the color of your eyes this morn ing,” and volatile Lu, slipping her hand under lier chin, gazed with mock solemnity at them. “Green as I’m alive!” she declared. “I suppose as there is no doubt of your spiteful vitality that is proof positive of their verdancy. But I know what you would insinuatef you little goose.” “A truce to your wit,” I said; “and let’s go and get the palmetto to braid our hats.” But there was no need °f this diversion to allay the rising storm for just then Dr. Etheridge came and lone, regarding him as one other own particular lieges, discarded the frown that had ruffled her pretty features at Lu’s sarcasm and showed him only a smiling face. “Oh! you sweet creatures,” I said to Mr. Hay, who was standing near me. 1 OU first TnuliA oil IIIn Imuhlea ill i ou first make all the troubles in the world and then you try to soothe them.” l|‘‘Thank you,” he replied; “but I think it’s just the reverse. ‘Never a Var without a woman at the bottom of ‘V pretty dears.” “When we feminines unfortunately war amongst ourselves, it is you men who are always the remote cause of it-,” and I looked meaningly towards Lu and lone, who were both chatting gayly with Dr. Etheridge. “I understand now the green-eyed allusion of Miss Lulu’s. And you think it was jealousy that caused the petulent remarks of Miss Cary about the singular widow ?&•» “I do,” I replied; “Tonecan bear no rival.” After the others had’all gone a little past noon, Walter Lee called and asked specially for Mrs. St, Ledger. I was really in doubt whether she would receive him, but went off to find her. That he loved her to the full limit of his powers I knew, and I knew also how hopeless was his love. She had, to my knowledge, never given him a mite of encouragement, and yet, day after day, he had gone on sinking deeper and deeper into the mazy mysteries of his grand passion until he had quite lost all that gay assurance that bespoke a mind at ease. I now felt heartily sorry for him when I returned and told him she declined all company for that day and begged he would please excuse her. “Does that mean I may call again to-morrow, Miss Bessie?” he asked. “Construe it as you like.” “Can yOu tell me the reason other seclusion ? I can’t make it out.” “You surely don’t expect me to elu cidate what your superior intelligence has failed to discover?” Well, I scarcely know, but it is a fact that I remained awake the best part of last night trying to reconcile the three different characters in which she successfully appeared yes terday.” “And you didn’t suceeed?” “My mind was in such confusion that it all seemed like a dream. I saw tills wonderful woman surround ed by a halo of romance sitting in the old rustic chair, the shimmering lake at her feet, the luxuriant leafage of the live oaks bending caressingly o’er the fair form, and above all, the soft clear atmosphere sweetly harmo nizing with water, trees, and her own beauteous self.” “Picture no one of her persona tions,” I said ; “you are both lawyer and poet, Mr. Lee. Now for the sec ond?” “I have no words to describe the others; I can but enumerate. The second was not characteristic, . but was a sudden outburst of merriment that charmed whislt it startled us.” “Yes, it was well done,” I said, dryly. “Then the lake scene, Miss Bessie; think of that! It was simply grand. The raging waters, the drowning child, the heavens black with the threatening storm; and that brave woman deliberately throwing herself into the waves V “There was no time for deliberation. Besides you forget what an expert swimmer she is.” “I forget nothing. It would have been the same had she known nothing of swimming.” “Not the same to her, I fear.” “I allude to the greatness of the act”—and lie seemed almost inspired, as he contemplated what he chose to call the “unparalled heroism of St. Agnes.” The days passed ou and although Mrs. St. Ledger had now been with us several weeks, we knew no more of her than we did the first day she came. She neither wrote nor received any letters, and said “it was an actual bliss to get out of the way of railroads and mail trains—‘the world forgetting by the world forgot.’ ” “I wonder your family and friends don’t write to you and insist on your writing to them,” I said. “I am alone without family and with but few friends,” she replied. We had all heretofore refrained from a single question in reference to her antecedents for family history, but when she said that mamma asked: “Arc your parents both dead, Mrs. St. Ledger?” “Alas! yes,” she sadly replied. “Would you mind letting me know who you were before your mar riage?” “Certainly not; my name was Agnes Boyle, daughter of General Abram Boyle, of the United States army.” “Ah! yes,” said mamma ; “I have heard of him.” “It is quite likely that you have, for he was a brave soldier.” “How long since his death?” . “Many years. He was mortally wounded at the battle of Sharpsburg, and diet! soon after he was brought home.” “Where did you live then ?” “In Germantown, Pennsylvania,” “That was the home of the Whar tons before they moved to Philadel phia,” I remarked. “Yes,” she replied; “and it was there the intimacy of our families began, and wliil’st making my first visit to them in their new home I chanced to meet him who afterward became my husband.” “Was he an American ?” questioned mamma. “No, Madam; a young English man, who had been traveling through the country. I married him after a few months’ acquaintance, and went to live in England, my mother going with me and continuing to reside there until her death.” “Had you no brothers or sisters?” “None at all. And after the death of both husband and mother I found England so distasteful that I left it and went to Italy, where I lived for two or three years. But the longing to see my old borne in America grew so strong, coupled w ith pressing bu siness that demanded my personal at tention at last brought me back in September. My expectations of pleas ure, however, were not realized, for nothing but depressing disappoint ments awaited me. Eveiything was much changed during my years of absence, and with the exception of the Whartons and a few others I found scarcely any one else whom I remembered. The vigorous cold of the winter coming on during my stay in Philadelphia, turned my thoughts to sunny Italy, and I wish ed much to return to Europe with Flora and her party, but unfortu nately that hateful law business was still unsettled, and would require my presence again in the spring, and much perplexed I did not know what to do. At this juncture, dear thought ful Flora came to my aid, and pro posed my coming to Florida and re maining until the winter wtta V then return North, finish the busi- * ness and join her abroad. But it was only after she had spoken a great deal of you all, assuring me at the same time of the pleasant home I should have if you agreed to take me, that I consented to come, armed with a letter of introduction, and throw myself upon your hospitality. And the kind manner in which you re ceived me, makes me your lasting debtor.” “The debt is on our side,” said mamma, and Lulu echoed her words. This conversation of the widow’s was duly reported to Uncle Lin by mamma, who was glad enough to have such information to impart. Next morning as I was going over to Mrs. Ellington’s I saw Mrs. St. Ledger and tiresome Bobbie in the garden gathering flowers, and direct ly I came across Uncle Lin slowly pacing to and fro beneath the noble avenue of oaks that flung their trembling shadows o’er the pebbly walk. He seemed profoundly en gaged in some puzzling train of thought. “What is the engrossing subject upon which you are bending all the powers of your subtle mind?” I ask ed. He started, and answered confused ly, “Business affairs, my little girl— business that you would scarcely un derstand.” I fancied our mystical boarder was the business, and it was a fact I did not understand her. “Have you forgotten,” I said, “that we are going to Weelanee Spring this afternoon ? The party will leave at 2 o’clock. Whom will you ask to ride with you, or have you already engaged your company ?” “I think it extremely doubtful about my going. At least—” “At least you will be guided by the Widow,” and I looked warpiykgjy ,at him. It was now my turn to cau tion him. We had suddenly chang ed places. “Nonsense, Bessie,” he replied a little irritably. “What have my mo tions to do with hers ?” “Nothing I hope, for though she both attracts and repels me, I believe the repulsion is the greatest.” He turned abruptly away, leaving me in doubt as to how he had receiv ed my last words. I hurried on to Mrs. Ellington’s to find Cora and the other girls to ar range for our drive to beautiful Wee lanee. And uncle sauntered towards the clematis arbor, where Mrs. St. Ledger had retired after completing the boquet that Bob was to carry to his play house in the corner of the back gallery. The little fellow trudg ed manfully off with “booful flow ers,” and his father soon occupied his vacant place beside the widow. He did not apologize as usual for intru ding upon her, but drawing near ask ed if she would accept of his escort to the spring that evening. “I know,” he said, “your distaste for parties of pleasure, but the kindly manner in which you threw off your reserve the other day at Col. Sibley’s and showed us how social you could be, emboldens me to plead for a like condescension to-day.” She checked his words with a little gesture of refusal. “Besides that, I don’t wish to go, Mr. Rawlins, it would be doubly irk some to meet the same people whom I then saw and listen to their com monplace chatter.” “You are not complimentary to your admirers. But you need not meet them unless you wish to. We will go for the sake of the drive and return immediately.” She shook her head. “I am sorry to deny you, but really I can’t go.” And though her manner was soft and gracious enough he read in the compressed lip and firm expression of the mouth that urging would be useless in this case. “You’ll let me remain with you then ?” “If you can find amusement in my dull society,” she replied, with the most polite indifference. As I neared Mrs. Ellington’s gate, I saw Walter Lee. That elegant syb arite had astonished me with the in tensity of his grand passion for the widow. She was the sun around which he daily revolved, pursuing, however, a rather eccentric orbit ac cording as the centrifugal or centripe- dal forees [i. e.] frowns and smiles —predominated. I suspected that he had met her once or twice recently in her morning walks and w r hen he asked me if she was out in the grounds, I maliciously in formed him that she was out in the arbor. I had watched her going there, and had also seen uncle making for the same spot, and desiring to inter rupt their tete-a-tete,told Walter where to find her. She quite disgusted me with her elaborate fine lady airs of exclusion, and I was really dis turbed at uncle’s evident interest in her, and feared mamma’s hopes were about to be realized. Yet she was as blind as an owl blinking in the sun shine, and saw nothing; but although he was sly, and she much slyer and smarter too, they could not hide their feelings from me. But I kept a still tongue. I had no charge to make against Mrs. St. Ledger, nothing- nothing only a disagreeable feeling of distrust that would not down. And un cle, it seemed, had quite forgotten his words, “An actress, Bessie—nothing natural about her,” and now took her at her own valuation. Walter Lee, guided by my direc tion, found her. “Very sorry, Rawlins,” he said, to interrupt you, but as it is nearly one o’clock, I’ve called to learn the hour when Mrs. St. Ledger will be ready for her drive.” “She is not going,” said uncle. “Not going! Why, she has prom ised.” “I think not, Mr. Lee,” she said. “Didn’t you give me your promise yesterday when I solicited the pleas ure of driving you?” ave no remembrance of it.” km'me,” lie said, his Ihce flushing, “but my recollection of the engagement is different.” “I yield to you better memory, and say that I have changed my mind.” “Suppose I can’t release you ?” - “I am sure you will,” and she gave him a quick, bright glance from her Juno eyes that set his heart throb bing like a locomotive. He was too much in earnest ever to be insensi ble to such looks, and uncle watched the cold proud face light up so pleas antly as she gently combatted Wal ter’s persuasion. The full moon had risen before we returned home from our exhilarating ride that evening. I brought back with me a bottle of water from the fountain of Weelanee, and gave it to Walter, who didn’t go with us. “Here,” I said to him “is a sover eign cure ” “For what, Miss Bessie?” “Heart disease,” I whispered. “It was given to me this evening by the old Indian who guards the spring, for any poor sufferer whom I might know. I immediately thought of you, and you may as well share its virtues with Uncle'Lin.” “Many thanks for your kindness. Whilst you have been seeking reme dies for wounded hearts, I have been to the post office and gotten some thing for you that you ill-deserve.” And he held up two letters. “From Flora,” I cried, as my eye caught the foreign post-mark of one, and eagerly seizing it ran off to my room. True, one was from Flora and was written from London. It con tained an account of her experiences on ship-board, and since her arrival in England, and bade me direct my answer to Paris, care of her father’s bankers, Verne & Michaud. But not one word of Mrs. St. Ledger, though sending kind remembrance to each other member of the family by name. 1 thougK^ll^is some a little latter when I saw the widow and mentioned the reception of the letter, fancied she evinced some em barrassment. But her high-bred face wore its accustomed serenity a mo ment afterwards as she languidly en quired after Mrs. Wharton and Fio. There was another thing about the letter that worried me. Flora sent hearty regrets that she had not writ ten me before leaving home, but real ly (she wrote) she had had no oppor tunity to do so. This was confound ing when I remembered the letter en closed by Mrs. St. Ledger. That night when I went to mam ma’s room to talk it over with her, I found her suffering with headache and sorethroat. She had contracted a violent cold and was quite ill. So I said nothing of my perplexities, but went to work to relieve her. Next morning she was no better, and for three days we were very uneasy about her. Mrs. St. Ledger displayed the most astonishing nursiug qualities and her attentive devotion to mamma quite made me repent of all my hard feelings towards her, and when I an swered Flora’s letter it was but to give a magnified account of our pleas ure and delight at having so interest ing an inmate as Mrs. St. Ledger— not forgetting thanks for her own in strumentality in sending us so charm ing an acquaintance. As soon as mamma was well I spoke of making a little visit to Jack sonville. Lulu didn’t care to go. She could not leave Mrs. St. Ledger long enough to go anywhere, and the eve ning before I was to start Ave Avere all in the parlor together, and I Avas teasing mamma to lend me her dia mond cross to take with me. It Avas composed of thirteen splendid stones, uniquely set, and had been in the family long enough to be regarded as a sort of heir-loom. My great-grand mother, or some other old time an cestress had first oAnted it, and being of great A’alue mamma kept it jeal ously hidden aAvay in a strong box in her OAvn room, and refused to have it reset into a more modern ornament. “You know how careful I am,” I said, “and it Avould be the height of bliss to sport those diamonds at the grand ball I expect to attend in Jack sonville. Do let me take them with me.” “Somebody would be sure to rob you, Bessie,” she replied. “I have heard| of the riff-raff, pick-pockets, Ac., that usually infest Jacksonville at this season.” “You don’t think I would carry them in my pocket, do you ?” “No, I don’t quite think that, my dear, but I fear to trust you with them.” “Isn’t it a shame, Mrs. St. Ledger, that mamma won’t gratify me and let me air them for her occasionally,” I said. The widow smiled at my earnest ness, and said— “If you like diamonds so well, Miss Bessie, I have some very fine ones you can wear. I have not had them on since my widowhood, and should be glad to have you use them.” “Do let us see them,” we all ex claimed. She left the room and quickly re turned bearing a casket of jewels that set me wild with rapture. The neck lace I thought I would be willing to give five years of my life to possess. “Oh, Mrs. [St. Ledger, you ought to wear them. Do put them on to night, ” pleaded Lulu. St. Agnes shook her head. “They were a gift from my hus- never like band,” she said, “and to wear them now.” She reiterated her offer, pressing them upon my acceptance, but mam ma was equally firm in declining. “I would never consent to see you go off with those valuable jewels, Bessie,” sheTsaid, “the responsibility is too great.” \ “I will take the responsibility of their safe return,” said the generous widow. “Miss Bessie must wear them to that ball, and if any accident happens to them I only will be to blame.” I looked wistfully at mamma. Lulu meantime had clasped neck lace and bracelets onthWkt Slid arm* for granted she’ll always say it.” and was busy slipping the magnifi cent rings into the shell-like ears of Mrs. St. Ledger. “Oh,” she cried, surveying her work, “you look like a star from an other world, sure enough, now. Come and see,” and pulling her yielding victim to the large mirror, stood clap ping her hands in transports of ad miration. Uncle Lin had been an amused spec tator of this scene from the door where he had been standing for some min utes, unperceived by any of us. “Queen of Sheba in all her glory,” he suddenly exclaimed, startling us. The queen actually blushed as she threw him a surprised glance, and began hastily removing the jewels from her person. “Don’t,” he said, coming near— “don't take them off—at least not just yet, the effect is regal.” “Behold my submission,” she said, “and again the pink flush rose o’er her white cheeks, as he bowed his thanks. For an hour or two she sat with us —sat and talked of many things— foreign scenes, books, music, the great glittering stones flashing amid the folds of her black dress. It was a rare treat to listen, as she so vividly described her recent experiences of Italian life and customs. And when she happened to touch upon the great matters now agitating the Vatican or other abstruse metaphysical subjects, uncle always by a few judicious ques tions brought her back to topics more within the range of intellect of some of her auditors. After she had left us, Lulu cried— Wise as she is beautiful, and you are such an admirer of learning, Un cle Lin.” Pity she’s not as true as she’s ac complished,” I said. “What do you mean by that?” he -ifc 1 i<*i..rv.r-*,. And there was a sharpness in his tones unlike his usual placid voice. “Oh, you needn’t look so shocked. I don’t know what I mean—I wish I did.” “You should be more careful of your words, then.” “But she is a true woman—good and true,” persisted irrepressible Lu lu. “Just think, Uncle Lin, she wants Bessie to take those handsome gems with her to-morrow, and wear them while she is gone, and insisted so much on it.” “I see that Bess is willing enough,” he said, looking hard at me, “but what does my prudent sister say ?” “That she highly appreciates the noble offer, but thinks it best to de cline,” answered mamma. “That is right; and to console Bessie for the disappointment I will buy her an elegant set in New York —not such as Mrs. St. Ledger’s, for I fancy there are few in America like them, but something that Bessie will not be ashamed to wear.” “In New York?” I cried, “why, when are you going to New York ?” “I shall start to-morrow, going as far as Jacksonville with you.” “This is a very sudden resolution, isn’t it, Lindley?” inquired mamma. “Well no, not exactly; I’ve been contemplating it for several days.” Next morning before we left, he mentioned to the widow his intention of stopping a day or two in Philadel phia* and enquired if she had any commissions for him to undertake. “I believe not,” she replied—“at least none that I’ll trouble you with.” We arrived safely in Jacksonville thirty-six hours after leaving home and uncle, without tarrying, hurried north. Reaching Philadelphia the first person he saw whom he knew ? was Tom Wharton. The surprise and pleasure at the meeting was mutual, for each thought the other thousands of miles away.” “Why, Rawlins, I did’nt expect to find you here,” cried Tom. “Heard you had gone into winter quarters with the gophers and salamanders amongst the Florida sands.” “And I thought you were roughing it out on the Pacific coast.” “True, I have been living there two or three years,and only returned here yesterday to look after the sale of some property in which my father is interested. He, with my mother and sister are roving about Europe some where, and I’m here to attend to the business for him. Where are you stopping?” “At the ‘National.’ ” “I have my headquarters there too, and will see you again at dinner.” After dining they lit their cigars, and adjourning to uncle’s room, had a quiet chat together. During the conversation he incidentally men tioned the name of Mrs. St. Ledger, in speaking of home affairs.” “Agnes St. Ledger? “Why, do you know her ?’ ’exclaimed Tom. “Oh, yes ; she has been boarding with my family for a couple of months, and I left her there when I came away.” “Well, that’s news. I thought she was in England. Where’s Ells worth ?” “Who’s he?” asked uncle. “Her husband—Ellsworth St. Led ger.” “He’sdead.” “Dead! You are surelyTRistaken.” “No mistake, Tom. She’s been a widow several years.” , “It is certainly very stratige that I never beard of it before.” “You’ve been living out of the world, remember, and have not kept yourself posted.” “Perhaps so. But I should really like to renew my acquaintance with her. I knew her well as Aggie Boyle, of Germantown, and used to be pretty spoony about her, but she preferred St. Ledger, who, by the by, was a capital fellow—rich, aristocrat ic, an Englishman every inch. And you tell me he’s dead. Well I’m sor ry to hear it, for I had quite forgiven him for winning her away from me.” “You’ve got another chance now.” “I don’t know so well about that. When a woman says ‘No’ once, I take “That shows you know nothing about the capricious creatures. Since the world began they have had the privilege of saying what they don’t mean, and of changing their variable minds.” “How long has Aggie, or Mrs. St. Ledger, I should say, been back in this country ?” “She returned last fall, I think,and dreading to face your ugly winters, your sister sent her South to revel in our delicious climate.” Uncle was a tree-born Southerner, and could not resist this little thrust at the proverbial discomforts of North ern winters. “Has she her mother and children with her ?” “Mrs. Boyle is dead, so I have been informed, and Mrs. St. Ledger has no children—never had any that I know of.” “Mrs. Boyle dead too! why man alive, you’re a perfect grave digger.” “Only a chronicler, of the inevita ble, Tom.” “She has indeed suffered a terrible bereavement if it be true, as you tell me, that husband, mother and chil dren have all been taken from her at one fell swoop. The last time I saw her was in ’70 at her splendid Eng lish home, and she seemed then the embodiment of happiness, surrounded with all the comforts and luxuries of a princess, and with two lovely chil dren, one a little toddler named for his grandfather—Abram Boyle—and the other a babe in the arms. I can’t realize the awful change.” And he musingly looked out of the window as his mind reverted to that scene of domestic happiness, now crushed and broken by death’s relentless on slaught. They talked until bed-time, and when uncle said good night and good bye, for he was to leave on the early morning train, he cordially invited Tom to visit him in Florida before he returned to California. “Impossible, Rawlins, though I should be glad enough to do so. I will, however, if you like, resign my former interest in Mrs. St. Ledger to you, and tell you if you can succeed in winning her, you vviirbe, in all respects, a most fortunate fellow.” Uncle did not remain long in New York, and on his way back he stop ped in Jacksonville a day to look me up and carry me home with him. He looked in better spirits than I had seen him for many a long day, and I thought his trip had considerably im proved him. My own visit had been exceedingly pleasant. I formed sev eral new acquaintances, but was at tracted to pone so much as to an old gray-liaired man from Massachusetts, with his invalid daughter, who was far gone with lung disease. They wanted to get away from the stir and bustle of hotel life, out. into some quiet country place, and learning where I lived, begged my aid in se curing them accommodations some where near. I promised to attend to the matter for them and write of my success. Mrs. Ellington’s, I thought, was the best chance, and accordingly a few days after our return, I went to see her. She readily agreed to give Mr. Bradford—that was the old gen tleman’s name—two of her best rooms, and I did not delay in send ing him this intelligence. Mrs. St. Ledger, I think, was glad to see Uncle Lin back. In fact I know she was, though she still tried to conceal her feelings with the same cold indifference, and rarely trusted herself alone with him. Walter Lee had left before I got home—staked his all on one little question, and—lost. This I could have told him ere he ventured, but only the widow’s own refusal would have convinced him that he had no chance to win her, so strong was his infatuation. Poor fellow, he was gone, and I wasn’t sorry, for she would never have suited him. It was sometime about the middle of March that Mr. Bradford and his daughter came, and we soon saw a good deal of them. Qne morning a week after he called rather early to apologize for a seeming rudeness to our boarder. “He had met her,” he said, “late in the evening before out walking alone, and mistaking her for a person whom he used to know, stopped and spoke to her, but per ceiving no recognition on her part, he soon discovered his error and at tempted to excuse himself, but she had hurried away without giving him time.” “For whom did you take her?” I asked. “Caroline Blake, a girl that once lived with me as governess for my daughter. I could have swornthey were same until I addressed her, for the resemblance was perfect as far as I could see. But it was growing dark, and my old eyes deceived me. The occurrence troubled me somewhat, and I mentioned it to my landlady, who assured me that the lady was Mrs. St. Ledger nee Boyle, and that she was staying with you. “Such mistakes will occur some times,” I said, “and I’m sure Mrs St. Ledger thought nothing of it.” “I fear she has the right to think me very uncivil, for I was inclined to persist in calling her Miss Blake, until she haughtily said she did not know me, and hoped I would forbear giving her a name not her own. To see her this morning and make the amende honorable is the purpose of my visit, and I hope she will allow me to remove the unfavorable im pression of last evening.” But he failed to form her acquain tance as he desired, for she was out At dinner mamma jokingly allu ded to the circumstance, and told her of the old man’s distress in accosting her for another, and of his visit of apology. She was idly toying With her fruit, seemingly inattentive to all that was passing, but at the mention of her rencontre with Mr. Bradford, the wondrous eyes grew suddenly alert and keen enough, and she looked quickly around, her glance resting a moment on Uncle Lin. “I regret you did not see him this morning, Mrs. St. Ledger, and assure him of your forgiveness. The old gentleman takes it much to heart I can tell you,” I said. - “I hope he has more sense,” she curtly replied. “O! he’s quite a sensible old man, and has plenty of money too—a mil lionaire, I’m told.” “Yes, and a widower to boot,” said mamma. She smiled a little disdainfully, and we soon saw the conversation, for some reason was very distasteful to her, and consequently dropped the subject. Next day she announced her inten tion of shortly leaving us. “The few beautiful months that she had been with us,” she said, “had passed all too briefly. But necessity called for her presence in Pennsylvania in a week’s time, and she wished to be in England by the last of April any how.” We were all full of regrets that she should go, and uncle, I saw was deep ly grieved. From his actions I knew that he had made up his mind to ask her to be his wife, though he had ad mitted none to his confidence. So I was not a bit surprised when, that af ternoon,he followed her to the orange ry, looking a trifle anxious. Ah, who could have foreseen the terrible ending of that quiet, lovely day, or the earthquake that was to desolate our bright home. But even while I watched them from the win dow slowly pacing [under the green arches of buds, flowers and leaves, another letter—a fatal letter—was brought to me from Flora Wharton. It shall tell its own story : “To say, dear Bessie, that I was greatly shocked and astonished at what you wrote me of a person claiming to be Mrs. St. Ledger, does not express half my feelings. And I hasten to reply and expose the daring imposter who has by forging my name imposed herself upon you. It is true I have a friend Mrs. Ells worth St. Ledger, of Yorkshire, Eng land, but she is no widow, and will feel herself terribly outraged to learn so clever an adventuress as your boarder appears to be, is personating her way down in Florida. Mother and I can think of no one sufficiently acquainted with all the parties inter ested as to so successfully, accomplish her adventure, unless it be one Caro line Blake, who is a distant connec tion of ours, and who was bom and raised about Germantown, Pa. Her parents died when she was a child, and mother took her into her own family, having her carefully educa ted. But after she grew up her con duct became such it was impossible longer to tolerate her, and she left us, glad to go and try the effect of her amazing powers of fascination upon the world. The obliquity of her moral perceptions was distressing, and she seemed totally unaware of any difference between meum and tuuni in appropriating to herself the property of others. If I were one of that class of philanthropists which our century has developed, I would gently call her crimes kleptomania, and an unfortunate misrepresenta tion of facts, but stealing and lying are the proper terms. Soon after she left us, she went to live with a family by the name of Bradford, somewhere in New England, but the last we heard of her she had gone upon the stage. I feel confident it must be her, and have set my wits to work to discover her motives in wanting to get a footing in your home, andean only settle down to the conclusion that she is trying to entangle Mr. Rawlins in her toils. She is a woman of very superior mind and manners, highly accomplished; but that only makes her all the more dangerous, and I hope this will reach you before any great harm is done. It is a mys tery how she ever deceived you with a letter purporting to come from me, but doubtless she had specimens of my writing and managed it some how, for, as I have said, she is very smart and full of strategy. I append a short description of her, that you may judge whether I have hit upon the right person.” [Here followed so perfect a pen picture of the woman now with Uncle Lin that none could mistake it.] “Do write soon and relieve my anxiety. Direct as before to Paris, where I now am and where we shall remain until May. Anx iously, Flora.” Faint and sick with horror at the awful calamity that had without warning so suddenly fallen upon us, I sat staring at Uncle Lin and that widow. That widow, indeed, when she had never been married! They were coming in now, and I could hear her soft laugh as they passed beneath the window. Ah! I shall never forget the joy and triumph that flushed her face, nor the look of hap- nessthat he wore, as together, she leaning confidingly upon his arm, they entered the room where I was. Had he not been so full of his new found bliss he must have seen the misery and shame depicted upon my own tell-tell face. But he had eyes only for that wicked woman by his side, and saw nothing else. Without waiting to hear what I knew was coming, Irose and placed 'the letter in his hand. “Read that, Uncle Lin,” I said ? “before you tell me anything. It is from Flora Wharton, and very im portant.” “Greatly •surprised at my words and manner, he took it and began to read. She gave one wild agonizing glance at my indignant face, and stood clinging to the back of a chair for support. “You had better sit down Miss Blake,” I said, “while I inform you that your game is up. Flora Whar ton has exposed all your wickedness and I thank God it has has not come too late.” She did not move, but tremblingly clutched the chair, her face utterly livid, eyes open and staring, and her slender form swaying as if about to fall. She tried to speak, but no sound came from the white lips. Uncle read the letter through, and, turning, con fronted her. All the light and joy had fled from his face, leaving it white and rigid as a corpse, and as he stood, sternly eyeing her, never a dbubt of her baseness crossed his mind. She returned his gaze in speechless terror for a moment, then covering her face with her hands, tearless sobs shook her from head to foot. “Is it true you are Miss Blake?” he asked. She made no answer. Seeing she did not speak he, with out another word left the room. “I have no doubt but she suffered most cruelly at that moment, but it was nothing more than right that she should accept the fate she had brought upon herself by her sins. In an hour she was gone without seeing any of the family, took the evening boat for Jacksonville. I think all that was noblest and best in Uncle’s nature had the ascen dancy in that supreme trial of his life. That he felt keenly the shame of his misplaced love, we all plain ly saw, but never a word upon the subject escaped his lips. My own trial was very severe, too, for I be lieved that I had unwittingly brought this suffering upon him, and the idea of his pain was harder to bear than any misery of my own. Mamma and Lulu have not yet re covered from the shock the amazing discovery of “that widow’s” history gave them. [the end.] RAILROADS. WESTERN RAILROAD OF ALABAMA. AN OPEN LETTER TO THE PUBLIC. New York, October 1st, 1877. I have devoted twenty years of pa tient study to the Liver and its relations to the hnman body, in search of a rem edy which would "restore it, when dis eased, to its normal condition. The result of that labor has been the pro duction of TUTT’S LIVER PILLS. Their popularity has become so extend ed and the demand so great as to induce unscrupulous parties to counterfeit them, thereby robbing me of the re ward, and the afflicted of their virtues. TO CAUTION THE PUBLIC, and protect them for vile impositions, I have adopted a new label, which bears my trade-mark and notice of its entry in the Office of the Librarian of Con gress, also my signature, thus: -ff- K&-TO COUNTERFEIT THIS IS FORGERY.*** Before purchasing, examine the label closely. THE GENUINE TUTT’S PILLS exert a peculiar influence on the sys tem. Their action is prompt and their good effects are felt in a few horns. A quarter of a century of study of the Liver has demonstrated that it exerts a greater influence over the system than any other organ of the body, and when diseased the entire organism is deranged. It is specially for the heal ing of this vital organ that I have spent so many years of toil, and having found the remedy, which has proved the greatest boon ever furnished the afflict- ed,shall they be deprived of its benefits, and a vile" imitation imposed upon them? Let the honest people of America see to it that they are not defrauded. Scruti nize the label closely, see that it bears all the marks above mentioned, and buy the medicine only from respectable dealers. It can be found everywhere. Yerv respectfully, W. II. TTJTT. tf THE GREAT EUROPEAN NOVELTY. HUNYADI JANOS, New Aperient Water. Specially recom mended for rich ness in aperient salts, and its effi cacy in Bilious at tacks, prevention :of Gout, Piles.etc., land as an ordina- r y aperient b y LIE BIO, TIB- UHOW, SCANZOSI, and SIB HENBY THOMPSON, and the ent Ire medical profession in Eng land and Germany. J. K. BARNES, Surgeon General U. S. Army— “The most certain and pleasant in Its ef fects of any of the bitter waters.’’ OB. J. MARION SIMS, New York—“As a laxa tive, I prefer it to every other mineral water.” OB. WM. A. HAMMOND, New York—“The most pleasant and efficient of all purgative waters.” DR. ALFRED L. LOOMIS. New Tork—“The most prompt and most efficient; special ly adapted for dally use.” DR. FORDYCE BARKER, New York—“Requires less, is less disagreeable and unpleasant than any other.” DR. LEWIS A. SAYBE, New York—“Preferred to any other laxative.” A Wineglassful a Dose. Every genuine bottle bears the name of The Apollin'aki.s Co. (Limited), London. FRED>K DE BABY & CO., 41 and 43 Warren St., Vet, Tork, Sole Ayrnts for United States and Canadas. FOR SALK BY DEALERS, GROCERS AND DRUGGISTS. no28 eod6nt J. H. MOSHELL HAS REMOVED HIS BLACKSMITHING AND WOOD WORKSHOPS mo the Brick Building directly west of the A MARKET HOUSE, and in rear of the MUSCOGEE HOME BUILDING, where he is now prepared to do the General Kinds of Blacksmithing and YV'agon and Buggy Work, Iron Bailing, Verandas, CEMETERY FENCES, BRACKETS FOR BALCONIES, Ac., Ac. Cast Steel and all other hinds of Steel Work to Order. MILL PICKS made and dressed and war ranted equal to any. Thankful for past patronage,I respectfully ask a continuance. oc21 SE-lm J. H. MOSHELL. For Sale—Cheap. A FOUR-ROOM DWELLING-HOUSE, eor ner Fulton and Troup Streetsj cne-half acre lot, good well of water, and kitchen. F. REICH. are.* COLUMBUS, GA, November 18,1877. Trains Leave Columbus Daily, AS FOLLOWS : SOUTHERN MAIL. 8:15 P. M. Arrives at Montgomery.. 7:52 r sc Mobile 3:00 a m New Orleans.. 8:20 a at Selma. 9:40 a k Atlanta 7:15 a m ATLANTA AND NORTHERN MAIL. 7:00 A. S Arrives at Atlanta. 2:20 p x Washington ... 6:35 p x Baltimore 8:30 p * New York 6:45 a m ALSO BY THIS TRAIN Arrive at Montgomery 8:50 p X TRAINS ARRIVE AT COLUMBUS From Montgomery and SouthweBt..ll:05 a m TN 1( — .-..-I CA»IknMU>t r.ffi T. 1# From Montgomery and Southwest.. 7:40 p x Atlanta and Northwest 7:40 f * From 49-This Train, arriving at ColumbuH at 40 r m, leaves Atlanta at H:30 A x. E. P. ALEXANDER, President. CHAS. PHILLIPS, Agent. dec 13 tf MOBILE AND GIRARD B. B. COLUMBUS, GA., October 1,1877. Double Daily Passenger Train, M AKING close connections at Union Springs with Montgomery and Eufaula Trains to and from Montgomery and Eu- faula and points beyond. This is the only line making close connec tion at Montgomery with South and North Alabama Train from the Northwest. and Fr’t Mail Train. Train. Hi Jo,, Leave Columbus 2:20 p x Arrive at Union Springs 5:56 p x Arrive at Troy 8:00 p x Arrive at Enfaula 10:10 p x Arrive at Montgomery... 7:55 P x Arrive at Mobile 3:00 A x Arrive at New Orleans... 8;40a x Arrive at Nashville. 7:50 P M Arrive at Louisville 3:45 a m Arrive at Cincinnati 8:10 A x Arrive at St. Louis 4:00 p M HfcOO PX 2:00 a x Arrive at Philadelphia... 6:50 p x ' rk. 6:00 a x 6:45 ax 6:00 v x 8.-40 a X 7:50 PX 3:45 AX 8:10 AX 4:00 px 6:50 PX 10:09 PX 7:40 A X 12:00 AX Arrive at New York 10:05 p x Leave Troy 12:50 A x Arrive at Union Springs 2:40 A x Leave Union Springs 8:10 A X Arrive at Columbus 7:10 a k Arrive at Opelika 9:10 a x Arrive at Atlanta. 2:20 P X Arrive at Macon 3:06 P x Arrive at Savannah 7:15 A x • Passengers for Eufaula leaving Columbus at 2:20 p x dally, arrive in Enfaula at 10:10 p m daily) Leaving at 10:00 p x dally, arrive In Eufaula at 6:00 A x. Through Coach with Sleeping Car accom modation on Mail Train between Columbus and Montgomery. W. L. CLARK, Superintendent. WI my9 tf D. E. WILLIAMS, Genend Ticket Agent. CENTRAL & SOUTHWESTERN RAILROADS. SAVANNAH, GA., November 11,18JT. O N AND AFTFR SUNDAY, November U, Passenger Trains on the Central and Southwestern Rallrc ads, and Branches, will run as follows* • TRAIN NO. 1—GOING NORTH AND WEST Leaves Savannah 9:20 A X Leaves Augusta 9:15 A x Arrives at; Augusta 4:46 p x Arrives at Macon 6:45 p x Leaves Macon for Atlanta - 9:16 p x Arrives at Atlanta.....'. — &02 A X Leaves Macon for Eufeula (Accom- i modation MO P M Arrives at Eufaula 9d>5 a x Leaves Macon for Columbus (Ac commodation 8JX) p x Arrives at Columbus 4:38 a X Making close connections at Atlanta with Western and Atlantic Railroad fqr.aU.RnUR*--*^—■ North and West. Eufaula Accommodation leaves Macon daily except Saturday. Columbns Accommodation train runs daily except Sunday. COMING SOUTH AND EAST. Leaves Atlanta — _.. j<fc40 p x Arrives at Macon 5:45 A x Leaves Enteral* (Accommodation)... 6:00 p x .. Arrives at Macon 6:45 a x Leaves ColumbUs (Accommodation) 8:15 p x Arrives at Macon 5:15 a m Leaves Macon 7:00 A x Arrives at Mllledgeville 9:44 A x Arrives at Eatonlon -11:30 a x Arrives at Augusta 4:45 P X Arrives at Savannah — 4:00 r x Leaves Augusta 9:15 A x Making connections at Augusta for the North and East, and at Savannah with the Atlantic and Gulf Railroad for all points In Florida. Eufaula Accommodation Leaves Eufhula daily except Sunday. 'Coin " ambus Accommodation Train runs daily except Sunday. TRAIN NO. 2—GOING NORTH AND WEST LeavesSavannah 7^0 p jc Arrives at Augusta &00 a x Leaves Augusta 8:05 p x Arrives at MiliedgeviUe 9:44 A x Arrives at FA ton ton ...11:30 a x Arrives at Madon 8K» a x Leaves Macon tor Atlanta 8:40 A x Arrives at Atlanta...-. 2S16 P x Leaves Macon for Albany and Eu faula /...._ 8:20 A X Arrives at Eutoula 3:<6 p jt Arrives at Albany 1^0 pm Leaves Macon tor Columbus. I1.-45 A x Arrives at Columbus 4:00 p x Trains on this schedule for Macon-Atlanta, Columbus, Eufaula and Albany daily, mak ing close connections at Atlanta with West ern A Atlantic and Atlanta A Richmond Air-Line. At Enfaula, with Montgomery A. Eufaula Railroad; at Columhxs, with West ern Railroad of Alabama,'and Mobile and. Girard Railroad. Train on Blakely Extension leaves Albany Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and days. COMING SOUTH AND EAST. Leaves Atlanta ....... 1:40 P X Arrives at Macon from Atlanta. 6:55 p jc Leaves Albany .KteSO a X Leaves Eufaula 8;30 a X Arrives at Macon from Enterala and Albany 4:47 P X Leaves Columbus ..11:29 A X Arrives at Macon from Columbus.... %S8 p x Leaves Macon 7^5 p x Arrives at Augusta £00 a X Leaves Augusta &05 p x Arrives at Savannah 7-15 \ * Making connections at Savannah with Atlantic and Gulf Railroad for all point* in Florida. Passengers for Mllledgeville and]Eafonton will take Train No 2 for SavannahandTrain No. 1 from Macon, which trains connect daily, except Mondt^for thesejgffinta. „ „„ ^ jLIAM ROGERS, Gen I Sup t Central Railroad. Savannah. W. G. RAOUL, oc25 tl Su^’t Southwestern Railroad,'Macon. Teeth Extracted With out Pain. 34- DR. J. M. MASON, D. D. 8. OFFICE: OTEB EKQLTBEB-SUK OFFICE, Colambas, Ga. jo; pURES DISEASED GUMS and. other diseases of the Mouth; cures" Abscessed Teeth; Inserts Artificial Teeth , fills Teeth with Gold, or cheaper material If desired. All work'at reasonable prices, and guaranteed. no23dAwtf SWEET POTATOES FOE SALE. j^T. DOMINGO YAMS—A NEWPOTATOE. _ Finest stock Potatoe grown, and excel lent also for table use. Three hundred bushels to the acre on rich land. Two hun dred bushels have been gathered from ona acre at Bonny Doon on medium upland. Apply at Bonny Doon Stock Farm, or to WILLIAM BRUCE, Eagle A Phehix Office, Columbus, Gs. novlO dtawAwlm* The Spirits of the Tunes! F ULLY determined to change my business as soon as possible, I am now offering my ' of all kinds of entire stock 01 Pare and Old Liquors and Wines, Cigars and Tobacco $ also, all Smokers’ Articles, at and belosr cost, without reserve. All drinks only TMSK CENTS, until sold oat. Bar Room Fixtures, Ac,, will be sold it % i bargain. I mean wbat I say, — joxSjjf®* otfili* Jti mi j A »v . M Y