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2 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.