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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