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The sad news was broken to the old
Earl as gently as possible, but this new 7
burden was too much for the heart that
had suffered so long. He died, blessing
Monmouth with his latest breath, and
glorying in the martyrdom of his son.
CHAPTER XL
A lapse of two years.
Great changes had taken place in
England during this time, but no change
so great as in the feelings of the people
towards King James. They were eager
ly clamoring for another King, and all
eyes were turned towards William of
Orange, and Mary, his wife, the eldest
daughter of the King. Sitting in the
drawing-room of Sutherland Hall, Mon
mouth and the Sutherlands are eagerly
discussing the events of the day. They
have been living in Italy during these
past two years, and Monmouth is much
changed, his brow wears a sterner look;
his skin is dark as an Italian’s:
“MyCousin, William, King of Eng
land !” he exclaimed indignantly. “Will
he wrest iny crown as well as my love
from me ?’ ’
“ Truly, you should be in his posi
tion,” said Regie.
“ How does he look ?” asked Emily,
suddenly.
“ He looks as I do,” answered Mon
mouth, “ only that his hair is long and
dark, while mine is short and light.”
“ Could not that be remedied asked
Emily, musingly.
“ What do you mean ?” said Marma
duke, iu surprise.
“ I catch her meaning!” exclaimed
Reginald, excitedly. “ Hush, sister, let
us speak of this softly.”
“ Os what ?” asked Monmouth.
“ Not now, nor here, can I tell you,”
replied Regie. “ Have you the paper
King Charles gave you to father, brother ?”
“ Ormand has it,” replied Marmaduke,
still in amazement.
“ And we will use it. Is it not so,
sister ?”
“ It is so !” answered Emily.
“ But tell me what you mean!” ex
claimed Monmouth, with ill-concealed
agitation.
“We will tell you, my lord; but, let
us first go up stairs to Emily’s sitting
room. It will not do for us to be beard.
There, Emily and I will discuss our plan
—you can listen, and tell us if it meets
your approbation.”
When they were all closely seated
around the sofa of the King, in Emily’s
room, Reginald spoke :
“We must call upon the King of
France to redeem his promise. Must
we not, Emily ?”
“ Yes,” replied Emily ; “ and, if he
consents to give us aid, Ormand must
immediately go to London, and secure for
himself and Arthur a position near the
son of the King. We will need the
strength of Marmaduke, and your cun
ning, Regie, elsewhere.”
“ Rut, what, in the name of Heaven,
do you propose to do ?” exclaimed
Monmouth, anxiously.
“To substitute your Royal Highness
for William of Orange!” replied Emily,
daringly.
Astonishment held them mute for a
few moments, but as soon as the first
stunning effect of her communication
passed away, the proposal was hailed
with delight, and the details of the plan
eagerly discussed.
“We will get the King of France to
redeem his promise, by taking charge of
William of Orange. He has promised
secret aid, aud that is what we want.
Whatever may happen in the future,
Louis will keep the secret for his own
sake.”
“ What, if he refuses?” asked Mon
mouth.
“ Then, this paper shall be made pub
lic,” said Marmaduke; “ and Louis shall
be proven the enemy of King James,
even while professing to be his friend.”
“ But, he will not refuse,” said Regi
nald ; for William of Orange is his
deadly enemy, and he would gladly have
the King <*f England his friend.”
“ A more important question is : will
the people of England believe that it is
William—will the Princess Mary believe
it is her husband ?*”
“ The Princess Mary does not care for
William,” said Monmouth, “ and I can
easily deceive her as long as I wish to ;
but, truly, my friends, I will not deceive
her long; I never have been false to her;
and I love her too well to be so now.”
“You are right, my lord,” exclaimed
Emily; “ you are right; if she loves you,
do not deceive her; and, if lam any
judge of a woman’s heart, she will readi
ly forgive you anything if you do not de
ceive her. Take my advice, your Majes
ty ; lam a woman, and it is a woman
we are speaking of; do not even attempt
to deceive her. When you see her, tell
her at once what your plans are ; throw
yourself upon her mercy; tell her that
William of Orange is far away; that your
life is in her hands; that a word from her
will send you to the scaffold. Tell her
all this, my lord, and, my life' upon it,
she shelters you from harm, even if that
shelter is only to be found in her encir
cling arms. Nay, more, sh(?will give to
you, whom she loves, that which she has
denied to William, her right to the crown
of England!”
Emily had spoken earnestly, for she
was expressing the genuine feelings of
her heart. She was judging Mary by
herself. After she had ceased speaking,
a momentary silence pervaded the group
—they were pondering her words. Regi
nald spoke :
“ What say you, my lord ?’’
“ I yield to Lady Emily,” said Mon
mouth, earnestly , ‘*she is right, and I
will not attempt to deceive the Princess ;
as soon as you have secured W illiam, 1
will disclose myself to her. Is that what
you advise, Lady Emily ?”
“It is, your Majesty; but do not let
me force my advice upon you. Remem
ber, you are King in this house, as you
soon will be over all England. Nay,
more, my Lord; extend your conquests;
and, if we are obliged to call you Wil
liam, we will add to it another that he
would never have won; you shall be called
William, the Conqueror!”
“ Heaven bless you, Lady Sutherland,”
cried Monmouth, inspirited by her en
thusiastic manner ; “ never had monarch
more devoted a subject than I have in
yourself! Subject, did 1 say? I should
have said friend, my best friend, lor you,
and all who bear your name, have saved
and served me, when all else failed. In
your family alone does the Duke of Mon
mouth live—to all others he is dead. I
may re-appear in the world as Prince
William of Orange, but, to you all, I am
James—simply James—the son of your
father’s friend, Charles Stuart.”
“ Your Majesty !” cried Reginald, “we
cannot suffer you to place yourself upon
an equality with our family. We are— ’
“ You will not, Reginald ?” said Mon
mouth, interrupting him, and smiling
kindly. “ You will not? Well, you are
right,ffor your name is a noble one, and
one that even 1 would be proud to bear!”
“ Your Highness is only pretending to
misunderstand me,” said Regie; “ you
know we feel more pride' in calling our
selves the friends of Monmouth than Earls
of Sutherland.”
“ And, now 7 for our several parts,” said
Arthur. “What say you, sister ?”
“ I say that you and Ormand must go
immediately to the Court of King James.
‘All is fair in love and war.’ You, Or
mand, will guide King James in the way
best suited to deprive him of his unlaw
fully acquired crown. I hear that lie has
attempted flight once, but been prevented;
urge him to it again, nothing w 7 ill so ex
asperate the people against him. Wil
liam of Orange is already marching
against England, and would now be here,
but that he wishes to wear the Crown of
England alone, and his wife will not give
up her right to it.”
“ True,’.’ said Regie, “and the people
are already dividing into parties-—one for
Mary and one for William. If it is not
prevented, we will see England desolated
by another war.”
“ I accept the part assigned me,” said
Ormand, “and will do my best.”
“ And I,” said Emily, “ will get a po
sition near the Princess Mary.”
“ Go on, my friends,” exclaimed Mon
mouth; “ let me hear your plans in full.”
[to be continued.]
An Inviting Locality. —A correspond
ent writing from Green River City, on
the 2d instant, gives a very inviting
picture of that locality. He says :
Last evening there was an election for
delegates to nominate individuals for
offices, under the new city charter. Os
course, quarrels ensued, which were de
termined to be settled with revolvers;
and from dark there was no chance to
sleep for cursing, swearing, yelling, and
hunting each other up through the night
like demons, and shooting at each other.
He says almost every other house is a
gambling house, with whiskey mills in
abundance, and bouses of ill-fame where
scenes arc enacted that we cannot sully
our pages by publishing an account of;
and intimates that the leadiug characters
are very anxious to civilize Ltah. No
doubt of it; but we think they had better
keep on the other side of the Territorial
Line. —Deseret News, Aug. 11.
—
Filial Piety.— The following con
versatiou, which, had it come to his
knowledge, the late Leech would, have
used as an illustration of “ Life in the
Mining Districts,” has just been repeated
to US) —First Collier —There’s been a
foire (explosion) at Jackson’s pits.
Second Collier—My feyther worked
there. First Collier-—Yes, and he’s
blowed all to pieces. Second Collier—
By gum; why, he'd got my knolfe !
Staffordshire Advertiser.
[Selected.]
Aurora’s Advice.
The sun had gone down in the lap of the twilight,
With his flery cheek on her breast;
She had covered his locks with her kirtle of crimson’
Aud sung him serenely to rest
And, grandly majestic, had Night, in her splendor,
As the streaks of the day went down,
Come up in her pables, ablaze with the jewels
That burn in her marvellous crown.
Whore, warm as a smile in the eye of a lover,
Aurora looked forth from hei home,
To startle the Night, as, resplendent from ocean,
Came Venus, new born of the foam.
And softly as blossomß their petals uncover,
As poets unravel their rhymes,
She stole through the mists to the heart of the zenith,
Like a red rose that blushes and climbs.
While, close to the West, where the daylight is brooded.
Her maidens, a bevy in white,
Had circled, to caper and dance in the welkin,
Like elves in the greenwood at night.
And broader, and warmer, it kindled in splendor,
’Till, like banners of glory unfurled,
The glances of beauty, from under her eyelids,
Shut down to the view of the world.
Anonymous.
AN OURAGAN.
A THRILLING STORY.
One day in the gold mountains of
Chontales, I first saw a hurricane. The
scenery of that tableland is bleak, and
sad, and lonely, as in all auriferous
regions.
On this day we had not enjoyed one
ray from the sun, for longer than a week.
But the heat was not less; a close and
stifling atmosphere shrouded all the land,
and from each marshy spot—crowned,
though it were, with plumy bamboos, and
spangled over with white lillies—drew a
foul and poisonous miasma. This dull
air quivered with heat; mountain, and
volcano, and savannah lay still and grey,
as a landscape of the dead.
I had proposed to rest at the foot of a
tiny volcano, round and smooth as a hem
isphere. “ There is water on the other
side,” suggested my Indian guide, and
we went thither. Not only was water
found in’the dell, but also trees, of dimen
sions rare, throughout that district. My
guide looked round with the air of a man
who has memories stirring in his brain,
and observed: “It was here' we fought
the fillibusters, senor.” How was that?”
I asked, knowing little better than other
Europeans, the details of Walker’s war.
Then he told me, in the epic manner,
how one Turley organized a band of
rowdies in California for wholesale rob
bery in this land, under cover of the war,
and how he passed them off on Walker’s
agents as experienced soldiers, which
perhaps they were; how ’.they refused to
separate, aud were enrolled as an entire
company in the “ Rangers; ” how they
deserted in a body at the first oppor
tunity, and marched through the “Orien
tal,” murdering, and plundering the
scanty population ; and how the French
diggers of Libertad gathered a force of
natives, and murdered the rowdies to a
man, on this very spot. But he omitted
to tell me another detail—how the false
fillibusters had been tricked of their arms,
under a promise of amnesty. Neverthe
less, this story was interesting to me as
a curious suggestion of the possibilities
still extant in our nineteenth century —
not twelve years ago!—and it passed the
time agreeably.
But on setting out again, I perceived a
change in the atmosphere at our first
step from the shadow of the dell.
“ What is this? ” I asked the Indian,
shivering with ccld, and a general de
pression.
“An ouragan, I fear, senor!” he an
swered, in manifest uneasiness.
I paused, knowing well enough, by hear
say, the terror of these storms, to be
aware our further journey was impossible.
“ What is to be done ? ” I asked.
“How long have we still before it breaks?”
“ Half anhour, at the outside,” he an
swered, looking up at the darkening sky.
“ I feared it this morning, but the Indians
laughed at me.”
By the way, it is curious that the abo
rigines of Central America always speak
of one another as Indians, using the word,
apparently, almost as a title to be proud of.
After a hurried consultation, it was
decided to stay in our present position
until the storm should pass, seeing we
were safe from the wind, under our little
volcano, and that wc could not possibly
cross the Lagarto stream before it broke.
And so we sat down ; tied the mules
with double ropes, and waited the event,
wrapped in our thick horse rugs. And
all their warmth was needed. More and
more piercing the cold became, more and
more dark the sky. Birds whose presence
we had not suspected, began to twitter
nervously in the trees below; but the
stillness of the Heavens was terrible.
The frozen air seemed to pour down on
us in waves, but no vibration could be
noted in the atmosphere. Darker it grew,
and darker, till all the land was swiftly
shrouded over. An indescribable terror
possessed us both; the mules cowered
crossly upon the ground, with their legs
gathered under them, like rabbits squat
ting, and their noses pressed to the earth.
The Indian’s face was pinched with cold;
he shivered under his chamarra.
Suddenly, a frozen gust came shrieking
over the mountains, then another, and
the ouragan burst forth. Following the
examples of mules and man, I threw my
self flat on the slope of the volcano and
clung tightly. The roar of the tempest
as it passed, was as the voice of a nation
shouting; not with gradual violence it
broke out, as in our calm lands, hut all
in a moment, resistless, merciless. Clods
of earth, branches, even small stones, as
the Indian declared, whizzed in mid air
above our heads, the hurdle of their fu
rious flight riding shrilly on the thunder
ous music of the wind. Every leaf, and
every smaller bough was stripped from
the cotton trees beneath us, and whirled
over hill and valley to the far Atlantic.
Our prostrate bodies were plucked, and
struck as with the hands. Aud then in
the very thickest of the storm, as if the
horror of it were not yet sufficient, as if
Nature desired to show us all her dread
power in these lands, in the very thickest
of the storm, while we lay pressed close
to the earth, stifling, breathless, deafened
with its din and violence, I felt the sharp,
sick shudder of an earthquake. The big
trunks in the dell, protected hitherto by
cover of the land, then crashed swiftly
down ; when the first gave way, they
fell, as we could note afterwards, like
nine-pins in a row, each over-throwing its
neighbor. Not a stem survived ; but so
horrid was the roaring that scarcely a
sound of their downfall reached our ears.
How long this scene lasted I cannot
tell; perhaps lialf-an-hour. The rugs
were torn to tatters on our backs; we
could not breathe except with mouths
resting on the turf. I would not dispar
age the grandeur of the storms of other
lands, hut that little ouragan on the Gold
Mountains was quite startling enough
for my ambition. And towards Blew
fields, the rain began. It poured on us
in a cataract that threatened to wash the
hills bodily away. Bat wc could get no
shelter of course ; there was no resource
but patience. Miserably we sat under
the volcano’s lee, and let the torrent fall
upon our heads. About a quarter of an
hour we had rested there, and already
each dell was a raging cataract. Sudden
ly we heard a sound of shouting, which rose
above the swish and thudding of the
water.
“There’s a man in the dell below! ”
shouted the Indian in my ear, but with
no sign of interest in his stolid face.
“ Tiiat man will be drowned,” he argued
calmly.
Alone, I dashed down the sodden
slope, and stood upon its crumbling edge,
looking eagerly into the hollow. The
trees were all uprooted, and broken, and
the little brook was a furious river. And
right beneath me, among the tangle of
boughs, a man struggled madly against
the gathering waters. It was not in my
power to render him aid; I could but
shout encouragement, and watch his
efforts with sympathy. Again and again
he fell, and with each instant the torrent
swelled. The boughs were twisted
around his feet, but he clung to them
desperately. And all the while he shouted
hoarsely, and struggled on. I ran to the
cowering inules, and, hastily tying their
halters together, threw the rope toward
the drowning man. Not till the fourth
or fifth cast, did he seem to see the means
of safety, or to understand my intentions,
though I called my loudest, and the rope
fell close beside him. But at length, lie
grasped it, and we dragged him out.
Again and again the undermined bank
gave way, and once he lost his hold ; but
I threw the noose again, just as the water
swept him off, and dragged him safe to
land.
But his behavior, when thus extricated
from deadly peril, was not encouraging
to the philanthropic spirit. With a wild
oath, he dashed off our hands, and tore
away over the hillside, heedless of our
calls. Recovering his feet, the Indian
gave vent to an angry “carajo!” and
suddenly retired. Alone, I pursued the
madman, chasing him with many a slide,
and fail over the slippery turf, until at
length he came down headlong and lay
still. I approached him cautiously, re
membering the tale just told, and the
dangerous fury of my fillibuster friend in
a case somewhat similar. He did not
move, but lay helpless on the ground,
glaring at me with the wild eyes of a
maniac. I called the Indian, and, most
unwillingly, he aided me to carry the
rescued man towards our mules.
It was not for some hours after, that he
recovered strength, and sense to tell his
story. We got him to Juigalpa, and in
a horrid little inn, the best house that
town can boast, he related to me the
concatenation of circumstances by which
his braiu had been turned It would ap
pear that, knowing the country well, it
was the habit of this man to break his
journey in the dell of which I have told
you, and sleep away the hottest hours
of the day, in a certain grotto which ex
isted there. In that cavern he was, no
doubt, when we descended to lunch, and
there remained, having partaken freely
of aguardiente, schnapps, or some other
pleasant liquor, till the ouragan broke
out. That roused him, as indeed its fury
might almost have roused the dead chief
tains in the cairns around. He fought
his way to the entrance —to be dashed
back instantly, bruised, and terror-stricken
by the unchained winds. Bewildered by
the fall, deafened with that unearthly
shrieking and thunder, he lay awhile
upon the cavern floor, until the heaving
of the “trembler,” the crash of falling
stones, and tossing of the earth, recalled
his consciousness. Instinct once more
caused him again to dash at the cavern’s
mouth; but again he was driven back.
The situation indeed was horrible; ex
posed to a fearful death inside, to be
buried alive uuder the heaving roof, but
unable to escape. After the second ef
fort, he lay still awhile, helpless, and half
conscious with fear. But a dreadful
sound roused the haunted man to life
again. Louder than the roar without,
more full of deadly terror than any sound
of an inanimate world. The voice of the
jaguar stunned his ears. Close beside
him it burst out, echoeing from rock to
rock, from floor to roof, from every quar
ter of the vault at once. Peal after peal,
beaten back and rebounding, awful that
threat thundered round. For a moment,
he strove to trace t!ie sound, to spy two
flaming eyes in the darkness; but no
sign was to be noted, no clue discovered.
Again and again, that roar broke forth,
above, below, and on every side. Then
he went mad; and I, for one, say, No
shame to him! A “tiger’s” voice is fear
ful to hear, you men, whether in the
Eastern jungle, or on a lonely mountain
of America; but in a black cavern, where
no man can tell whence it comes, nor
where the beast may be, that monance is
a trial few nerves could bear. Try for
yourselves. Only go with a savage dog
into a vaulted cellar, and hear the bewil-
dering echo of his bark. The whole space
will ring, and no man, however expe
rienced, could guess whence danger is to
be expected. The mystery made the
horror of the scene. My friend—l call
him friend, for he wandered many a day
with me—was very brave ; but his nerves
already greatly tried, could not bear that
strain. He dashed headlong from the
cavern, where death in three dreadful
shapes was threatening, wind, earthquake,
and the tiger’s claws. And on the thresh*
hold, as though fate had leagued all ele
ments against his life, he fell into the
raging cataract from which I had r 'seued
him.
“ The Lord made a dead set at me that
time.” he used to say, in quaint, yet not
consciously irreverlent phrases, “ but
there was work found for me somewhere
on a sudden, an’ you was appointed for
to lug me out of that there circumstances
where the Lord had fixed me. Bound to
be work somewhere for me, for He don't
make no sport of man, nor yet, He haint
such au ! idle time as He should do mira
cles in fun. An’ I’m ready for that work,
sir, ready r an’ gay, when the name an
natur’ of it is revealed to me.’’
Colonel Moore, a veteran physician of
the Old Dominion, enjoyed a great per
sonal popularity, on account of affability
of manner, and, of course, could always
carry a big vote whenever he was up lor
office. He generally spoke to everybody
he met, and usually succeeded in convinc
ing people that he knew them well. He
met his match one morning, however,
when, on meeting a countryman, he shook
hands heartily with him, and commenced:
“Why, how do you do, thir; I thee
you thtill ride your fine old grey, thir.
“No, sir, this horse is one that I bor
rowed this morning.”
“Oh ! ah ! well, thir, how are the old
gentleman and lady ?”
“My parento have been dead about
three years, sir.”
“But how itli you wife, thir, and tut
children V'
“I am an unmaried man, sir."
“Thure enough. Do you thill live on
the old farm ?”
“No, sir; I have just arrived train
Ohio, where I was born.”
“Well, thir, I geth I don't know you.
after all. Good morning, thir.”
Mis apprehensive.—“ Fare, mauani,
said a dapper conductor in one ot tue
Metropolitan cars, to Mrs. Busticus, oi
Gooseberry Centre. Tolerably ' >
thank ye, but a -little cool out our way iOi
corn and potatoes. Strawberries aii ,! y
runs to vines in cold weather, and onion-'
shoots*up like a double-barreded
was the response of the misapprehend*-'
dame.