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#avamu*k WccMu -Hew WJEim M>AY, JUNES I 577 (■I'BUCHIfTIOJi?. WfeLly N<■. One V*-ar gg OO \V-<-kljr Nr wo, l Month.. I (H) Weekly Xfw, Three limit li .>0 !>*Sly Jew*, one year, *lO no; m* month*, r •*. • throe month*, I* SO. Trl-Woekljr New*, one year, s r, 00; olxmontha, I- 1 00; thfee month*, $1 50. All *abwcrijtiorm jiayable In advance. Paper* hy mall arc atopj**il at the expiration of the time paid for without further notice. SnhKiiberi will please observe the da tea on their wrapjxars. * A!VKHTIPEENT. A v>! ARE la ten measured llnca of Nonpareil fc bifu*rtion. fl 00 per aquarc. Liberal ratet w 8 * vlth contract advertiser*. CORRK*P<OH DKSCE, solicited ; but to receive attezi* fou* m mu*t be accompanied by a re*|ional ■ic tiam\ not f r publication, bat ft* a guarantee All letters ahould be addrenaed to J. If. ESTILL, Savannah, Ga. Ttttoruinn fleas Aerials. (Whitten |,J Till; Kavasnaii Weeki.y News.] MISGUIDED; 'a ntokv of the present time.* ItV ANNE ADEIJA COX, “ Oui of (lie Sunshine into the hhade." CHAITKII XXX. i!i 11 . i!y <lil I lament the death of ruy rhil'i. •<1 take any interest in 1 the affair? fhieh h and so eng rented uiyj mi'i l, i ii iti ■ i mvstdf wftre to n v t u in f'i thin i m. ( Mii old-time iuttaxsom -< w;i rv • seemed drawn nearer l" ■ 11l grave of our baby. But il I which fell so heavily on ins In irt only caused me to pause in my do wnw ard career —did not change my course. For several months I called no meeting of our dub, hut after a while the assignation wished to have a celebra tion of some kind, and begged me to as sist, in the preparations for it. I reluct antly yielded to their entreaties, hut soon liecamc as much immersed as ever in Iplans for ameliorating the condition of liny -ex. My head and heart were full devices for l ighting imaginary wrongs, Hr relieving imaginary wants- never Hiisidering lor a moment that my duty to tlio.se of my own household; that nnc\-r. was enough of sorrow in my own home to engage all my power of redress; enough wants to he relieved to (ill my jiands and heart. Mrs. Worth had be come so inline that she could leave her room but seldom, and I was absent from home ho much that the waste and ex travagance among the servants had made sad inroads in our income. Reginald thought it his duty to inform me how matters stood, and asked me to look a little more closely after the servants, hut 1 grow angry, as ( usually did when he remonstrated with me in any manner, and asked him why he did not marry an Irish Biddy at once, if he only wanted somebody to manage his domestic mat ters. “L am not willing to be chained at home like a slave to prevent a little flour from being wasted or to keep Norah from using a few pounds more of sugar in the month.” “I made the request, Pauline,” said Reginald, “for your own and your chil dren's good. You can do as you please. 1 continued to frequent the club-room, and to busy myself with plans for ameliorating the condition of those whose happiness had never been entrusted to my ko,e]nng, and to neglect those who had been committed to my care. The old coldness soon came back in Regi nald’s manner, and the tenderness which was renewed between us when our little girl died was never again manifested. His whole happiness seemed bound up Lin his children; whenever he was at Munite tlut Htfle hoys were hiij i‘iscpara r.lc (Miiip'anions, ait', ho often earned 'tin ~i unit him in his rounds of visiting patients. They wore manly, noble little fellows, of whom any parent might have been proud, hut my miserable fanati cism blinded me to their true worth, un til too late to enjoy it. “Strange, wo never prize Iho ntuftic * T.ll the H\veet voieeil birds have llown; htratitfo, that wi nliould alight tho violet Till tlio lovely flower is gone; Htrange, tlmt Miimmt r akum and aunahino N‘Vr Room ono-half so fair Ah whan winter’s snowy pinions Shako tho white down in tho air.” My poor little children were sadly neglected in those days of my blindness aim folly. It they did not disturb me 1 seldom inquired where t hey were or what they were doing. 1 lost, all love for home and grew extravagantly fond of i public debates, and of being in large crowds, and mixing in great assemblies. 1 occasionally delivered lectures, and joined in the discussion of the subject which 1 considered so vital to the well being of society. In the preparation of these addresses L excluded ntyself eu- Irircly from my family. How wretched husband must have been iu those clays! 1 low different was his life from the dream-life he used to picture to me in the happy time of our wooing ! The recollection of mv sinful infatuation al most drives me mad. But for kind Mrs. Somers, my boys would have been I lonely indeed, but she was very fond of tWn, and, in their freedom from ma raud restraint, they daily sought her She was now a widow, and de- to deeds of mercy, and linsS f®w greater objects of com ivT.S m . v uncared-for children. Aitiiu Somers' health was so tea 'h'v ■ dissipation that he sunk in cur a . i I ,, . ju v a y e ™ mirseil died. His faithful wife tad erowin U? as though lie Kof Wessinis in biness. Aaej'.^blightmgherhap ler in his fi ' fello J7 ? lun kings to its mv ft ;1 little child 1 lone her o*l 1 '"Uld not bear Reept the ministv.u\„ Us ' }' 1 used to think her s\\\ v v ” ne *-‘hc. self such a slave for Inn,. her her so much misery, hut shc l < ; auS - et finitely wiser than 1. She toft ft 1 * hitter cup of sot row, but then. xv tUe jmnorse miugled with it> keeti pangs of disappotwtm'nn'f ’”1 H'east PH court of justice: pPlf tho judge iuul jury, aud herself c prisoner at the bar, ever condemned.' The heart of her husband, degrade': ‘ as ho was, safely trusted iu her, and, be-1 fore he died, he thanked her for her un remitting devotion and tenderness through all his sinlul. miserable life. In my hours ot remorse for having driven my noble husband forth au out cast aud a wanderer. 1 often recall to mind one conversation between Claude aud his wife which Reginald reported to me. Claude had been making unceas ing demands ou her strength and pa tience. and as she went uncomplainingly from one task to another, lie seemed to feel a paug of regret for his selfishness, ami. takiiig her hand, as she smoothed the pillows under his head, said : < iussie, darling, you are an angel.’ ‘Oh, no, Claude. lam a very frail -mortal. * Turning to Reginald, who was sitting by his liedside, Claude said : “Doctor, my wife's unassuming piety - all that has'kept me from becoming i an infidel. When I have been tempted i to doubt the truth of religion. I thought I of her patience and forbearance, and ft felt, in my soul, that nothing but the re | ligiou of Christ could enable her to bear I my unkindness and neglect as she has I done for so mam- long weary years. I I have ofleub|Hkmiipted to doubt the t o fths '' '" ’ Hd distrust the , - l iU:t ? t k J. H. KMTILL, Publisher. I 8 Whitaker street, comer of Bay Lane, t Gussic, if I had my life to live over again I would be a better man, ex claimed the poor invalid. I would seek the favor of that God who ha.-, bus tained and comforted you auiid the dark ness and gloom of your blighted exist ence. I would try to make you as hap tiy as you deserve to be ; but it Ls too late, too late! Can you forgive me, <larlin,e. for having caused you so much sorrow !’ ’ “Yes. my husband, I do forgive you fully, freely. It is not too late to begin anew life. God is much more willing to forgive than 1 am. Seek his pardon, and for the remainder of your life you can be a lietter man, and I will be a hap py woman.” . . “W ould t'i heart n I could! but it is too late to reform ; my life is a miserable failure. You are the one bright spot in my simple miserable, misspent life ; the i.ne ti- that binds me to virtue and purity and goodness. Poor Claude, he lived several weeks after this conversation, and expressed creat contrition for his past sins. Let us hope his sincere repentance and his wife’- fervent prayers availed to pro '•tffe his j i,t , • lull. \t least, we will tbr ... 'fWwn’A • r 1 1 ■ * i ring hut repentant man. ‘‘VTli i ;a<lu the ho*rt? ’ti Ho alone, Deoiiledty can try is; He knows each chord, Its various tone. Each spring its various bias. Then at the a, tar, let’s he mute, We never can adjust It. What’s ihmi■ we partly may computo, Hut know not what’s resitted." < HAI'iKK AAAI. About two years after the death of my little daughter I received an invita tion to address an association of women in the city of New York, (my name being thoroughly identified at that time with the woman’s rights movement.) I regarded the invitation as a great honor, and spent much time in prepar ing a lecture, which I hoped would create considerable sensation wherever I had an opportunity of delivering it. For days together I shut myself up in the library, and studied, and wrote, and re vised, and polished, until the address seemed to me a model of English com position and an unanswerable argument m lav or of the doctrine 1 advocated. Other days I spent frequenting mantua makers’ and milliners’ rooms, attending to the demands of fashion, being deter mined to win admiration by every means in my power. 1 seldom saw my children ; they fre quently asked permission to spend an afternoon or a day with Mrs. Somers, and as she often insisted on having them with her, I readily consented, since I was thus relieved of all anxiety concerning them. One evening the little boys were talk ing over the pleasures of the day which they had spent with Augusta, and I overheard Paul say: “Percy, don’t you wish aunt ’Gusta was our mother?” “Oh, no, Paul, for then we could not have our own dear papa; but I wish mother loved children as well as aunt 'Gusta does.” “1 wish papa had married aunt’Gusta, so she could be our mother; wouldn’t it be jolly, Percy?” “Wouldn’t it, though?” “I wonder why God didn’t give us to aunt Gusta, but let us keep our same father? She loves children and mother don’t.” “Yes, and poor aunt ’Gusta ain’t got no little boys.” Pi "she "uid "have "Two little BoysT" gpuidn’t they have a nice time —hearing stories, looking at pictures, having pretty play-houses, and all the nice things aunt. Gusta knows how to make for chil dren?” “Oh, but, Paul, her little boys wouldn’t have no good father to take them to ride in his buggy, and to love them like our papa loves us.” “Don’t you think 1 love you?” asked 1, feeling somewhat mortified that my children should think that I did not love them. “Yes, mam ; but not like papa and aunt Gusta does,” said Paul. “I love you a great deal better than Mrs. Somers does, but I haven’t the time to waste on you that she has. ” “Poes she waste her time, mother? She’s always busy. She sews all the time she is tolling us stories, and she waits on grandma McAlpiue so good, and grandpa, too.” “She’s been making flannel clothes to-day, for Mrs. Norwood’s sick baby,” said Percy. “Yes, and she made some of the best soup and sent it to Mr. Jones,” chimed in Paul. “ What Jones?” said I. “The one that fell off the house last Week. Aunt ’Gusta sends him some thing to cat every day, because, she says, lie ain’t got nobody to fix up good things for him. ’ ’ “Any woman could do all she does; your mother is engaged in a great work for the good of a great many people. You are too young to understand it now; but when you are older, my little boys will be glad that their mother did not fritter away her time in such occupa tions as any uneducated person could perxbrm. Norah can tell you stories and show you pictures.” “Norah tells us scary tales about ghosts and imps and giants; but she can't tell sweet ,; ttle tales like those aunt ’Gusta tells us. She tells us about the beautiful world where God lives, and the golden streets and the bright river; and about the shining augels. ” said Percy, his bright eyes growing brighter, as he thought of the gtoiies which Mrs. Somers had depicted so vividly to his young imagination. “When Norah tells us stories lam afraid to go to bed at night, I jump upright quick, arid cover up my head to keep from seeing imps or ghosts.” I said Paul; “but when aunt ’Gusta toils \as stories, I feel like God was watch ing over me, and I go right off to \ sleet).’ ! bonder comes father; let’s run and v u et hbu, Paul, and ask him to let us \y\ °'V‘vo to the lot. ” w u \, asked Dr. Varner for money iuv j„ u “ c " to defray the expenses of ‘Tavrlin’l’ gave lC to me, but said : out of Ynm. are taking the bread ill afford to sn ren s mouths. I can "When did' 0 so mu ck at this time, stricken? B ett i e ° u become so poverty you are not at once, that “I must confel^h tome.” ingly for the p Uri) “ ai 1 give grudg be devoted.’’ ' lo it is to V hat a difference a f. w ried life makes in a luau '-' v cars mar when you used to say V,, Member prized your fortune until it emOo ? ever to gratify my every wish \ and ou are not ashamed to own that OVr you grudgingly the small pittance out now and then.- u ao ’e ‘‘The change is in you, Pauli ne a long as you regarded vour marriage Vf T S to love, honor and obey your husband 1 so kmg was it my highest pleasure out ot my abundance, to indulge voui womanly demands. But since 'y ou choose to pursue a couise. not only at variance with my wishes, but utterly repu’sive to me, you cannot expect me. cheerfn'fy, to contribute of my reduced means to sustain >on in it. ’ ’ ‘‘Depend upon it, I shall not call on you for assistance much longer. lam fully competent to make my own liviusr. But until I choose to maintain myself I have no scruples iu acceping your churl ish bounty,” so saying, I left him. ami we exchanged no other words until* left for New York. My children had become so much ae customed to my absence that they re garded my departure as a matter of course; and I began to believe that after all, my baby’s death was a “bless ing in disguise,” as I could not have been so free to travel about ou my great mission if .-he had lived. But I did not hesitate to leave my great rough boys, as I tinned them, thinking their father and Mrs. Worth could give them every needed attention. CHAPTER XXXII. During my stay in New York I was feted and flattered, and ray lecture was puffed and lauded until I sincerely be lieved that it was my duty to deliver it as often tvs possible. I honestly believed great good would result from the pro mulgation of the truths it contained —so I agreed to make a tour of the Northern and Western States and deliver it at all the most important points. There was to be’ a mass-meeting of the strong minded women in Boston, and I went there and spent some time in making speeches and attending various public - meeting ’. T was absent from home several weeks, and when T re • '; r % vaded the wholi~ lace. I wondered why the little boys did not ran to meet me ; why no one .seemed aware of my arri val. As I w alked up the avenue I saw a streamer of crape depending from the door knob; and as I came nearer I saw that the knocker was muffled. What could it betoken! Was my husband, from whom I had parted in anger, dead? Was either of my boys dead ? It could not be. Someone would have sum moned me to their bedside. Perhaps Mrs. W orth was the one whose death was announced by that black streamer. God grant no dearer one has been taken! was my mental ejaculation as I pushed open the door and walked in. The still ness of the grave pervaded the rooms. I saw no one until I readied the chil dren’s room. On his little bed, wasted by disease, and scorched with fever, lay my second son —my dear little Percy. By his side, laving his parched hands and moistening his lips, was Augustus Somers. On the other side of the bed sat Reginald, the very embodiment of grief. When I entered he raised his eyes, but without making an effort to approach me, said; “Oh, Pauline! why did you not come, when I kept dispatching for you ?” “I received no dispatch.” “Paul so craved to see you before he died.” I sunk down iu utter despair. One boy dead, and tlie other very low ! Augusta came to my side, and sooth ing me as she would have done a sorrow ing child, said: “Everything that could be done for Paul’s comfort and relief was done. I left home and staid with the darlings night and day. Dear little Paul died in my arms. ’ ’ “Yes,” groaned Reginald, “she has been a mother to my abandoned chil dren, whose sickness and death was caused by the wilful neglect of their own mother. ’ ’ “Don’t Doctor! don’t make that aw ful charge in this hour! Perhaps the children might have been sick it Mrs. Varner had been at home. ’ ’ “The want of proper attention caused their sickness and Paul’s death. I came home after a hard day’s ride iu the rain, and found both children wet to the skin. Norah. silly creature, was getting herself ready for a ball; and Mrs. Worth, oc 'Ciit-i oT-r suffering*,- paidfflff attentio i to rin poor neglected children. I doctored them vigorously; but relief came too late —tlie cold bad taken such fearful hold of their lungs that no rem edy could eradicate it. ’ ’ He kept on like one whose wrath, long pent up, suddenly finds vent in words. Augusta silently withdrew, not wishing to witness such a scene —and Reginald, usually so reticent of his wrongs and griefs, poured out a wild torrent of accusation and distress. I could say nothing in my defence; but took my seat by my sleeping boy and eagerly watched for his awicening. Presently, he opened Ids eyes and said, feebly, “Aunt Gusta, please give me some water. ’ ’ I held the cup to his parched lips, but he turned away and wailed, “A : nt aunt Gus.a here ?’ ’ “I am here, my precious boy,” said I. “I want aunt Gusta.” She heard liis voice and hastened to his side. A look of pleasure, such as my presence had not produced, spread over liis face as she approached him. llow it wrung my heart to see another thus preferred before me, by my own child. But the anguish was my just punishment for my sinful failure in duty. “Don’t leave me, aunt Gusta!” said the little sufferer, without giving me a look of recognition, as his eyes rested lovingly on the face of Mrs. Somers. Oh, how anxiously I sought some sign of affectionate remembrance from my dying child ! how eagerly I watched for some look of love in his glaziug eyes—those eyes which followed every movement of Augusta and rested so fondly on her, as they were closing in death ! Fervently did I pray the destroyer to spare this last lamb, but he was inexorable. -A few days after my return, as we were watch ing by the bedside of the dying boy, be suddenly awoke from what had seemed the stupor of death, and gazed wistfully around, as though looking for someone. ‘ 'What is it, my darling ?’ ’ asked Re ginald. “do you wish anything?” “Where is Paul?” said he, distinctly, “I thought I. aw him just now.” “Paul is in heaven, my son. You were dreaming.” “No, sir. lie was right here iu th’s room. He c-ame for me. Oh! he looked so bright and pretty! just like the shining angels aunt Gusta used to tell us about. He beckoned to me. Papa, I guess he wants me with him up in heaven. “Oh. my precious cb’ld! cried Regi na’d, “Father can’t give up lbs little Percy—lr’s only boy! Oh, Heavenly Father! spare me this blow !” “Papa, I know Paul wants me; he kept beckoning to me, and I must go with him.” Turning to Mrs. Somers, he said: “I w :, l see Robbie, too, aunt Gusta. He and Pan 1 , and I will meet you at the sate —the gate made of the great big pearl you used to te 11 us about—when you come to the beautiful world. “Mamma, there won’t be anybody to make a noise and d : sturb you now; Paul and 1 wifi both he out of your way.’ Then raising b : s pale little hauds. and gazinsr intently upward at some object, invisible to our eyes, he faintly mur mured. ‘'l am coming, Paul! ’ c’osed his beautiful eyes aud joined bis little brother in the bright world, about which he loved so dearly to eonverse. My noble little Percy was another sac rifice to the Moloch of fanaticism, at whose shrine my first born had so re cently been offered up. CHAPTER XXXIII. After the death of my children I piungeu madly into the excitement of dn rii®posed mission. I tried to 11 bought and recollection in new remain en S a geinents, I could not r t t aT’ , Vemorv was too busy aW a f fm hearthstone. I was my duty to the^ l °l ettier - forg °* -Jone in his wreK^22 aved fatter ’ aU would not\hftate‘to 1 the means necessary to him my pride revolted at the SS? >' e j, asxmg him foimooey'u^^ SAVANNAH, WEDNESDAY. JUNE 6. 1877. voted to a purpose which was so repug nant to him. But m\‘ lectures did not bring me in sufficient income to defray my expenses, and I began to think of some profession whereby I might obtain funds which would enable me to pursue, unembar rassed, my great life-work. The stage seemed to be my only alternative. I bad extraordinary dramatic talent, and my sex debarred me from any other pro fession. I immediately’ entered into corres pondence with the manager of one of the theatres in New York city, and while I was awaiting his decision. I re turned home to make some necessary preparations for my new life, should hi's answer be favorable. I had written to my husband at what time I expected to reach Woodville, and he met me at the train and accompanied me to our dwell iMg—home it was no longer. He had closed the doors during my absence and dismissed the servants, and was board ing with Norman McAlpine. now a staid married man, devoted to his sweet, re tiring Wife and his infant daughter, Au gusta. the childish image, as well as the petted darling, of her beautiful aunt. When we were within our old room, Reginald stood beio e, am?, -,v hlrprem-' bling limbes and pallid cheeks, like a man who executes a desperate resolve, said; “Pauline, this thing must cease. I cannot afford to keep up this house for the benefit of lazy, thieving servants; and I canno. longer live alone in this gloomy, childless, wifeless abode. If you will come back and live with me as of yore, you shall have my deepest, fond est. truest love —you will be to me wife and children, kindred and country. But if you persist in your present roving life, I have determined to leave this gloomy, saddened home forever. I shall make my way to the South, whose patriot sons are struggling agamst such desper ate odds, and join the ranks of the Con federate army. The decision rests with you. If you are resolved to continue in your present course, I have nothing to bind me to this spot, but will cast my lot with the struggling heroes of the Confederacy, and fall, 1 devoutly trust, in her defence. But if y T ou will come hack to my home and my arms, I Will still be your devoted hus band and lover.” Then giving me a look full of the old time, passion ate love, he cried, eagerly, “Do, come back, my wife! Let this painful estrange ment end. We cannot be happy apart, and, oh, my darling, we can be so happy together, despite all our past sorrows and misery. Let your heart decide the matter. Be again the delight of my life and the brightness of my home. Will you not, Pauline?” I almost yielded to his pathetic ap peal; but the memory of my late tri umphs, the flattery and adulations so lavishly bestowed ou me, and the anti cipation of greater success in my new urofession, turned the scale .against my nusband’s pleading look and agonized petition. I felt that I could not bear the quiet and loneliness of ordinary life, haunted, as mme would be, by the stings of conscience and the ghosts of memory. So I told my husband I was willing to give him all the honor and obedience due him, but I could not consent to set tle down into the hum-drum existence he would have me to lead. “Why can we not,” said I, “live to gether, as so many others do, each pur suing happiness in our own way?” expression died out of his look cf mutturablc isoirow took its place. “You are determined, then, to con tinue your present erratic life?” ‘ ‘My happiness depends upon it. Be sides, I have almost concluded an en gagement with the manager of one of the theatres in New York, and will prob ably spend the winter in that city.” “Oh, Pauline, you cannot have be come so infatuated ! Do pause and re flect!” “The matter rests with Mr. Carter. I am already committed to him.” H e tui’iied to the secretary, and draw ing from one of its apartments a paper placed it in my hands, saying: “Here is a deed to this house and lot — all the property I have left. Do with it as you think best. If I fall in battle, as I trust I may, keep one green spot in your memory for him who so loved, alas ! who so loves you. Farewell, my mis guided Pauline!” Seizing me in liis arms, he pressed passionate kisses on my brow, lips and cheek, and was gone. CHAPTER XXXIV. I sat down in my now truly deserted house and wept bitter tears at what I regarded my cruel destiny. But after the first flow of grief was spent, a feeling of relief came over me. My connection with the past was severed. I was free to do as I cnose. I was al ready becoming enraptured with the thought of being an actress. I began to long for the glitter and excitement of stage life. I had been led to adopt the profession, merely as a means of support, while I advocated the cause of woman’s lights. But, as dreams of tiiumph in my new career floated through mv mind. I-grew-.eager to enter upon at, I would still do all hfiiiy'power to advance tin cause so dear to my heart, but hoped my successes in my new field of action would enable me to do more valiant ser vice in the old. Mr. Carter acceded to_ the proposi tion. and agreed to receive me in his troupe. I sold the beautiful home, which had been so dear to me, but which so many sad recollections now darkened, and removed to New York, that sea of humanity, where one’s antecedents do not come to the surface and where the past is irrevocably buried beneath its restless surges, I took rooms in one of the large hotels, and entered at once upon my new duties. My first appearance was a complete success. My position as a star performer was assured from the beginning of my career. My name on the play-niU was sure to draw a crowded house. I was the favorite of the play-going world. Mr. Carter soon increased my salary— the most valuable presents were show ered upon me by my enthusiastic admi rers. Diamond rings and jewelled crosses, deftly hidden among the flowers and leaves of exquisite bouquets, fell at my feet. My bare appearance on the stage was sufficient to produce' the wild est enthusiasm. For a while I was happy, extravagantly happy. The glare and glitter of my new life, bewildered my senses—the homage I received daz zled my mind. Amid the gorgeous par aphernalia and splendid pageantry of an actress' life, remorse found no lodgment, and memory no place. The joyous present shut out all be hind it. Whenever I was alone. I was so much engaged in studying my profession that I has no time to reflect on the bitter past. But as the months wore on, memory would obtrude itself—sweet childish faces would float before my vis ion. little lisping tongues would wliisner in the stillness of my chamber. The glorious eyes of my forsaken husband would iook pleadingly into mine, and his plaintive, musical voice would echo in the quiet evening, “Come back, Pauline, come back! * My lovely home would appear to my saddened fancy in all its freshness and beauty. Another home in the more dis tant past was often imagined on merno rv’s page —a dear, sunny,Southern home, now, perhaji demolished or defaced by the vandalJfrch of the invader, My looked reprAchfully into my paint-begrimed face; my sweet mother gazed sadly on my tinsel-decked garments; my brother’s dear features frowned from the cages of the play-book. I was conning. Other dear scenes often occurred to recollection —the fair pano rama of the Forest City passed before my view, and brought to uf ud tlie sweet joys of early plighted love. The excitements of stage-life began to pall, the monotonous routine grew wea risome. Tlie continual agitation iu which I lived and the constant strain on my nerves, began to have a disastrous effect upon my health. Despondency too 1 - possession of my mind, and lassi tude an 1 weariness of my body. I often limed for rest and quiet when 1 was compelled to go the house of mirth to make merriment for others. At last I grew sick. I could go no longer— and then I realized how deeeitfa! is the fa vor ot the multitude, how vain the ac clamations of the populace. I could hear the cheerful tones and joyous laughter of the merry play-goers as they passed my room to and from the thea tre. No concern for the lonely occupant, wl ’Aohad so often minister and to their pliH re, disturbed their hiLrity, and I knH . if I shcmLidiigiHfcjLof that jrav throng woula uiroit i sTAi tor me.” The miseiy of that time is burnt into my memory. -My thoughts went back to the days when sickness was a luxury; when my mother’s saft paint bathed my aching brow, and her tender care pro t Ided rare dainties for the gratification of mv fitful appetite ; when my father's lavish hand procured the indulgence of every wayward fancy of his petted dar ling. 1 remembered, with bitter i egret, the loving ministrations and watchful tenderness of my fond husband; and re alized, when too late, that I had bar tered the highest joys and holiest pleas ures which bless a woman’s life, for a bubble, whose hollowness mocked my clutching grasp. The woman whom I employed as a nurse, was faithful atnl attentive, but the sympathy, the tenderness, which makes sicl .ess tolerable, were wanting. How much more bitter is the feeling of de peudance on one, who serves us for money, than the sweet reliance on those whose tender care proceeds from a heart overflowing with love! When I resumed my position in the troupe, I was a sadder and a wiser wo man—-but alas ! alas ! the wisdom so dearly bought availed me nothing—its only fruit was remorse. 1 often asked myself what had I gained by the sacri fice of so many blessings ? What hap piness had my triumphs brought to my lonely heart? Is it possible that after all I may have been mistaken ! Doubts concerning the wisdom of the sentiments which I had cherished begau to creep into my mind. I have acquired, mused I, the reputation which once seemed so desirable, but I am not as happy as when I was less famous. lam fettered by no conjugal or maternal ties, but I am far less happy than I might have been as a wife and a mother, rit leaving out the the question of my own happiness—for in my enthusiasm I was wi ling to sacri fice that for the good of my sex—wou'd women be happier if the doctrine of wo man’s rights should prevail ? Judging by my own heart, I was forfjd to confess they would not —not even should they obtain the boon I had advocated so ear nestly, the right of .suffrage. I was constrained to admit that woman cor’d y.-aciit the country far less at tho ballot ■ljox than she could in the nursery and iu-0"?:- 1 th< firnaiiie V dc-'-oted niyself to the proper training of my two wftble boys; if I had instilled into their minds the love of country and the proper principles of action, and had watched over their health and guarded them from exposure, and shielded them from the pollution of the world, could I not have wielded twice the influence in State and country, that I could exert by my single strength ? How painful it is to have to admit tho errors ot one’s life ! how sad to feel that we have hugged a fatal delusion so closely to our Hearts ! I c-cased to actvocate doctrines, tlie truth of which I began so strenuously to question. I determined to devote my self entirely to my profession, since no other road to ease and competence was open to me, but my enthusiasm in it was gone. I have become renowned in the theat rical world, have gained many laurels, but how unsatisfying. 1 now know—when the knowledge avails me naught—that the love of a noble husband is a crown more ennobling than all the laurels and bays the world can confer on a woman ; and maternal joys are sweeter than any pleasure which springs from worldly fame. My sorrow is all the more poignant because I feel that my punishment is deserved. I allow r ed to slip from my grasp as worthless the greatest blessings with which heaven crowns a woman’s life, and although He has granted the desire of my heart yet like the flesh of the quails in the teeth of the murmur ing Israelites, it has become disgusting and loathsome. CHAPTER XXXV. . .One day, a young Southern girl of our troupe, an orphan, who lm<jl gone on the stage for a livelihood, crime into my room equipped for a walk, j “Mrs. Varner,” said she. “are you not a Southerner ?” j “Yes.” “Well, I wish you would go with me to carry a few supplies to some rick and wounded Southern soldiers, on their way to a prison hospital. They are quartered in a large building, a few blocks off—and the officer in charge has given perm i-sion for them to receive any contributions of food and clothing their friends may send them. I have gathered a few articles of clothing from the Southern) sympathi zers in our company, and have procured a few delicacies, and wiU be glad if you will go wifi with me and assist in dis tributing them.” “I wi'l gladly, and will stop at Smith A Allison’s shoe store, and order a sup ply of shoes for the poor fellows.” “That w.i" be so kind. I assure you they need them sadly.” M e soon reached the building where the prisoners were quartered, and were shocked at their pitiable condition. Bare footed and batless; their grey uniform.- in tatters, vermin-infested and blood stained, they were a wretched-looking set. But they were cheerful and hope" fill, and their Southern chivalry mani fested itself despite their -qualid ap pearance, as they thanked us for the sup plies we carried them My sympathies were much aroused for a youth, a mere boy, wh had lost his left am. I stopped to • peak some words of cheer to him as I passed, and inquired to what command be belonged. “Nelson’s brigade.” “Have you ever seen Mrs Nelson? I have heard she went with her hus band to the army.' ’ “Yes, ma'am ; I have often seen Mrs. Nelson. She sticks pretty close to the general. She often rides by hi- side on the march, and I tell you when a battle is going on she stays where she can hear from the field constantly. She's a pow erful fine woman. I saw her one day when we were all panic-struck, seize the flag from the color-bearer ami rush be fore the men, begging them to turn back. They were ashamed for a woman to show more courage than themselves, so they turned back. / Mrs. Nelson said she couldn't bear t A. sec the General’s men running from Yankee; Truly, thought I, * has made a heroine of my gentle fricnA "What State are you from ?” I asked the poor boy. "Georgia, madam. I live in Savan nah. ” "Ah? Aho is the Colonel of your regiment?” “Col. Young.” "I don't know him. I visited Savan nah once, and thought perhaps I might have siime acquaintances iu your regi ment.” “Our Lieutenant Colonel was from Sa vannah. too. He was the bravest man in the army. He seemed to feel no more fear in a battle than I do right now. The boys used to tell him he was fool hardy. but he said lie bore a charmed life ; and it did look like it. for lie was generally seen where the balls fell the thickest. He led every forlorn hope and volunteered for every dangerous service. I saw him promoted on the battle-field for gallantry. I tell you we fellows raised a yell!" and the young soldier s eyes sparkled and his pale face flushed as lie spoke of the courage of his beloved officer. ‘AY hat is the name of that gallant Lieut, nant Colonel? asked I, seeing it afforded the young rebel so much “Where is he now?” gasped L “Dead, ma’am. He was killed in our last battle. I saw him fall from Ins horse, and ran to him, but he was dead, lie never moved alter that ball struck him.” "Surgeon! come here, quick! the lady is going to faint!” “Madam, let me assist you into the fresh air. These ghastly wounds make you sick, and the gentlemanly surgeon bore mu out of the house, kuowiug no more the cause if my sudden illness than the wounded prisoner did. My young lriend ran to my assistance, and, calling a hack, bade the driver carry us to our hotel. i M hen I reached my room I declined the kind oilers of assistance from my companion, and, locking myself in, gave way to my anguish and remorse. Through the long hours of that misera ble night I walked the floor in agony of m nd. Oh ! how I reproached myself for my neglect of my husband and my unkindness to him. How heinous my conduct appeared in that hour of woe ! How vividiy every harsh word I ever spoke to Reginald came up to torture me, as I thought of him iu liis bloody grave, and remembered that my neglect drove him to the field of battle', and to death ! Ob, if I could have gone down on my knees to my deeply-wronged hus band and begged his forgiveness, my re morse would have been less harrowing. Rut he was gone! irrevocably gone! and could never kno w how bitterly I had re uented, bow sincerely I had longed for nis favor again. The only link that bound me to the past was severed. The last hope was gone—for vague as it was, there was ever in my heart the hope that, in the future, I would some day hear again the sweet voice of my Rex— my king—saying, “Come back! my wife! come back ! ’ and a sweet dream of nestling, like a wearied dove in his loving arms, and being folded to his manly breast. But that dream is past, The last faint glimmer of light which illumined my darkened existence is ex tinguished. That night of woe had no morrow. And although I still continue my mimicry of life for the delectation of meny play-goers, and am still their pet ted favorite; and although I bear the sobriqimt Queen of Tragedy, I must ever a liitseramc?, wlT3u;iiOcr, iuuuiv woman, “ Without one heart to beat with hers, Without one hand, in tenderness And sympathy, her hand to press; A lone soul left dispassionate, Without one link of love or hate;” a disappointed, misguided, fanatic, long ing for the repose of the grave, but dreading the retributions of the here after. THE END. ► ♦ * , A Singular Burglary.— On Wednes day morning last two stalwart women rang the bell of Dr. S. B. Percy’s labora tory on tho second floor o: No. 622 Sixth avenue, New York. A servant girl an swered the summons, and as soon as she opened the door the women seized her, threw a cloth or an apron over her head to prevent her from raising an alaim, and, throwing her down, tore strips off her dress, with winch they tied and gagged her. When she was secure her captors ransacked the laboratory, broke open a drawer in a desk, whore they secured about seventy-five dollars, and escaped undetected. The servant remained half an hour unable to move or raise an alarm until she was discovered by one of Dr. Percy’s assistants. The marauders are described as real women by the servant, but there exis’s a suspicion that anew scheme of robbery has been organized by tw r nr more men dressed in women’s ciotl - . Owing to the suddenness of the attam the servant girl was unable to describe the features of the thieves. A few evenings ago s strange affair oc curred in Providence, R. I. A lady gave a party, at which a young lady was j ar ticnlarly noticeable. She was beautiful, magnificently dressed, and very happy, being just engaged to marry a distin guished gentleman from New York, tike wore an antique bracelet, a present from her lover, which the latter said was an heirloom of his family, brought over £r >m Holland. A lady from New York, who happened * be present, recognized it at once as the bracelet of her aunt, which had been taken from her in the lobby of a metropolitan theatre. Bhe made are • mark to that effect, the whole party got excited, and every one witnessed The despair of the bridegroom. The latter was asked whether the bracelet did r.ot enclose a picture. Yes, he said, that of his sister. My cousin’s, was the anew er, contained Miss Gary’s pieturo. The bracelet was opened—there was Miss Gary’s picture The groom was then not to be found, and there was much bj m paiby for the deceived lady. Francisco G. Flore?, a prominent citi zen of San Diego, Nueces county, Tex is, and his son, Teharcio, were recently m ir dered and robbed. The robbers were eight in number, all Mexicans, They ob tained seven hundred dollars in money. The same party captured U. Latt, Presi dent cf the Corpus Cbristi BDd Rio Grande Railroad, Mr. Lewis and a drr-er named Mays, robbed them of all the money and jewelry on their persons end stripped them of their ciothes. The county cf Nuece3 is alarmed, and the people are out hunting for the robbers. The New York Tribune occasionally sneers at the suggestion of Mr. Tilde As nomination in 1880. Tnousands of Re publicans in Pennsylvania express their regret that thay did. not vote for him last year, and thousands more promise that they will vote fer him if they ever get an opportunity. They would like to purge themselves in this way of thi great fraud upon the country in which they were im plicated by the party leaders.— Har?’ - burg Patriot {Dan. ) Peter B. Brigham, who died in Boston last Thursday,'worth §2,000,000, made the first of his fortune by keeping an oyster saloon. He used to pass around among his customers, asking; “Are your oysters well cooked ?” and when he was paid for them always said: “Thank yon, sir; call again,” which courtesy may partly account for the §2,000,000. Suicide of a Seevant Gibl. —Veronica Nill, aged thirty-five, a servant in tbs employ of Louis Roessisr, a German 1 a ker on Tenth avenue, New York, hung herself on Saturday night in a closet on the upper floor of tha house, ft is sup posed that the woman, who had no friends in this country, committed the act while brooding over her sorrows. HOW TWO WOMEN DIED. Confession of n Terrible Dfeil Couiiuitteil 111 Arkaottn*. [From the Little Rook Gazette, May 22.] On Sunday the town of Benton, Saline county, was in a state of high excitement in consequence of the confession of crime made by Tom Srauer, who was confined in the Sabue county jail on a charge of having killed his aunt, Mrs. Harriet Staner, and Mrs. Taylor, cf that county, on the 24th of lust January. Thomas Staner said: “Some time last July I had a dream that I had killed two or three people and secured a large sum of money. This dream followed me continually, and I could not get rid of it. I knew my Uncle Mack had considerable money in his bouse, and on the January following, when he was gone to L-ttle Rock, I went to his house for the purpose of killing Aunt Harriet and getting the money ; I was working at Mrs. Gentry’s, not far from Uncle Mack’s, and I went through the woods rather quickly; found Aunt Harriet at the wood-pile; Mrs. Taylor, a neighbor, who lived about two hundred yards distant, was also in the yard, either boiling clothes or rendering out lard My ounttoldme to go in,' I did. and SP ft - *#%&**, wot to FPlfu IV|llfc l vßlill Uir some pig's foot nnd hogs' heads to make souse Chop's bead cVese); Mrs. Taylor oame in :d at down ; she was knitting; the two women asked me if I was going to marry the widow Gentry, where I was workiLg, and asked me otli< r questions pertaining to farm and neighborhood matters; Mrs. Taylor got up, wont to the table and commenced to help Aunt Har riet ; I thought I would murder them ns they stood, and pvt mg up the poker for that , iv-p \ v.. kt. ■ toward them, hold ing to. weapon beh >;d me. My heart failed me, r ever, v i down again without tnc.r obs iv-ng my actions or suspecting my intentions. Aunt Harriet then went out to the crib to get some shucks to pack the souse iu. When the came back Mrs. Taylor observed a calf out down at her house, and went down to put it up. When she was gone I took the poker and without saying a word walked up behind Aunt Harriet and struck her with ail my power; she fell and I repeated the blow; I thought she was dead or I would have struck Iter again; she only made a gurgling noise; I took the keys from her pocket, secured the money and then stepped out on the gallery to look for Mrs. Taylor, when just then she came in at the south door, and, seeing Aunt Harriet on the floor, walked up to hor and said; ‘La me. Tom, what is the matter with Mrs. Staner? - I answered I did not know, and walking up iu front of her .struck her ou the hi ad with the poker, hitting her again after,she fell. I felt very bad when I saw them both lying iu their blood dead, and would have given anything iu the world to have brought them to life; this was about 11 o’clock; I staid in the house maybe half an hour; I hid the money where it was found; I took out $25, which I gave my lawyer, Major Lrtta; I had intended to destroy the jewelry and keep the money.” A MANIAC. ♦ A Terrible Scene o! Blood rit Spnlntzo in Dalmatia. Spalatzo, in the Austrian province of Dalmatia, was a few weeks ago the scene of a most extraordinary and terrible tragedy. Opposite the parish church lived a householder named Tomic who becoming suddenly a prey to mad rage, killed his wife and then his father, Who had him. When the police i l:.rred- -air entry, and taken commanding posi tion with a musket and plenty of ammu nition. They were, therefore, compelled to turn back, and meanwhile Tomic put a bullet through a young man who crossed the street, and severely wounded a woman. The police then drew a cordon around the house, but Tomic s musket commanded the space between the house, the church, aud the top of the adjacent streets, and no one dared cross the street or approach the body of the young man. At length a clergyman who had great in fluence with Tomic bravely went forward and implored him at least to give up to his care his little child. The father’s answer to this appeal was by throwing out her limbs one by one ! Then he resumed his fusilade. The authorities would not allow the police to lire, inasmuch as they deem ed the man bereft of reason. So the only course was to continue the blockade. All sorts of devices were suggested. Some were for firing on Tomic with stupefying cartridges, others for concen trating the fire engine force on the house, aud all this time the unhappy sexton of the parish was sending up from the bell tower a wail for food, he having gone to ring the bell just before the tragedy be gan, and his only mode of egress being in front of the maniac’s window. Afior the blockade had lasted two days and Tomic showed no signs of giving in, it vas resolved to keep up a perfect hail storm of stones at all the windows of the house while the door was forced. The madman flew to the garret, where it was no easy matter to disarm without killing him. Altogether he had killed four and wounded five persons. Is She Bewitched A Young Girl’s Supernatural uud Eludve Bedfel low. The good people among the hills of Morris county, N. J., have found excite ment in the case of a young girl said to be “grievously vexed of the devil,” and whose condition is as unaccountable as it is deplorable. The girl, according to the World's informant, fs a daughter of Elijah Nichels, blacksmith of the Giendow Ivan , Company at Hurdtovm. She predicted' evil against her fifteenlr birthday, which befel on the 13ch of October last, and since that date she has been bedridden and paralyzed. At times there appears uuder the counterpane of her bed a pres ence as of a rat, a rabbit or a cat swiftly moving from place to place and eluding detection. In vain is the bed or the patient removed to another place; the “presence” is only powerless to ret when the mother sleeps with the child. The physicians, no less than the clergy, and the common folk of all the country side are baffled. Crowds come daily to see the mystery. On one recent occasion Mr. Richards, Mayor o. ; Dover, held his stiff hat above the “proGance,’' and the hat received a blow* that crushed it. Violent blows have been given to the hand, to a cane, and to other objects held out over the place where the “presence” was, and, needless to say, attempts to grab the presence have failed. All the while the girl lies moaning as if m terror sor pain, and her position in the bed would be plainly such as to show that the mysterious movements were not caused by h r. The girl has been knows to gp. stain from all food for the spaee of fifteen days, and fo. some weeks past she has oniy received a little milk daily, yet her facß is fair, and, when the visitation is not nigh her sleep is apparently fiealth ful. Her parents are plain and honest people, who view this as an affliction not to be turned to account for notoriety or money. The neighbors, unable to ac count for it in any other way. have solemnly decreed witchcraft against an old woman living among them, and charms are in active demand.- N 7 World. i _ The strawberry and green-pea trade at Memr his is a rushing one while it lasts. One planter gathered last season (and probably will equal it this) lOoJoOO quarts of strawberries from his patches. One day last week he sold 1,410 quarts in Memphis, and shipp : to Chicago, Louis ville and tit. Louis .1,400 quarts. “Mary,” murmured Imping Alfred, un decided what to say, 11 .Mary, if you do not love me, thay tho ; thut’th the only way. But, Mith Mary, if you love me,” pressed the wretch in accents bland, “And you wouldn't Irk to :hay tho, then, Mith Mary, thqueetb my hand.”— New. York SunA (SUBSCRIPTION $2 00 a year \SLS..t. OOP!I’D 6 cetus. SENATORMOIITON AND Us will ItPNi>nf>e to Nonslii-rti ItiiMillUvini—The Case of Kollom; —Vn K s , n y on i.oui*- iunn ntul if Ii Carolina—The Ann. ment of .Hunter mid t niltn'ilut lon—(ou tempt for S.iutlierii I’rimiino*—Hnyeti and Grant—The lirenl to Stop Army Supplie*—Virtues nnd Purposes ol the Kepublienn Party. Indianapolis, May ~ 3 . — A letter from Senator Morton is published here to-day. The Senator begins by saying : “ Sev. rat weeks ago an open letter was addressed to me thr, ugh the column- of the Now York Titiits, written on behalf of more than one hundred prominent Southern Republicans, stating their views on the political siualion and invking mine. I have also received many letters from different parts of the country inquiring i to ti.o condi tion of the Senatorial question from Louisiana as it stood at the adjournment of the Senate.” THE CASE OF KELLOGG. The Senator then alludes to Mr. Kel logg’s presenting himself to the Senate March ;> for admission, and tua nr the buna e ou his lie alsoifl h | T*rd~ntials S* ..ie" j£.'*I9PRSs 5 Mays: “The Committee on Privileges and Elections met soon afterwards, aud the Republican members united m u report that prima facie S. B. Packard was law ful Governor cf Louisiana, tho Legisla ture was the lawful Legislaiure, that W. P- Kellogg had been elected in conform ity to the act of Congress, and was enti tled to be sworn in and take his seat. As a number of members of the Senate were absent, and tho su< j . t would lead to a long debate, and there was a general anx iety o adjourn, the report was not laid before the Senate. If the, m > jority of the Senate shall at the mxt session be of the opinion that K Hogg was lawfully elected by tho L egislature of Louisiana, he will be entitled to his seat, notwith standing even is that have since oc curred. THE BLOODY SHIET AGAIN. “The Republican governments of Louis ana ami South Carolina have yield ed to force. They have gone down be fore an armed minority whose threats of future violence were guaranteed of a long train of bloody deeds in the pi it. I re gret that tho real character of the trans action should be obscured in i oat)l by pretended investigations or n< gMintiona. Stripped of all disguise and pretenses the simple fact is (hat Packard; v.: Chmuber l.dn wore not, abyj to mahilo;;i themselves in authority, and the government of the United States, in the exorcise of its dis cretion, refused them its sup-port. Then tho Legislatures, finding tin inselves do fenseless, fell to pieces, and from their ruins, in part, new Legislatures have been constituted whose legality consists in the fact that there aru none to -onpose them. Ihe law and the rights of tho majority yielded to an armed, aggressive minority, ihe Democratic party iu Louisiana, an undoubted minority, possessing most of ihe wealth, arms and military experience, were determined to govern, whatever it might cost in tho way of life. They threatened the majority at the late e! ec fion, which cost many tiv sand was the product of the most infamous and damn ing of crimes. The murders and crimes had boon proved and tuy blood- oiuiued majority set aside by lawful process. “The administration and. cm. and that such a case of insurrection anu violence was not presented as mnirorz and the National Government to interfere,and that the con* tending parties mus; b left to streng resorp ci • THE AE>tY ACI'KOPEIATION QUESTION. Mr. Morton hero speaks of the House refusing to vole appropriations for the army unless conditions were incorpo rated that the army should not be used in the Southern States, which Le says was clearly unconstitutional : “The question was should the Presi dent yield to the inevitable, or proceed ouly to inevitable defeat ? There are and have been for years many Republicans in the North who have deprecated the use of the army to support Republican State governments iu the South. “The Republican majority in the Sen ate upon the Southern question is but nominal, if it exis!ed at all. Five Repub lican Senators voted at the late executive session against seating Kellogg, and to refer his credentials to a committee, thus refusing to recogniz the Packard govern,, ment, and a numb r or .!Republican Sena tors, sufficient whoa added to the Demo cratic memuers, to constitute a majority, have steadily refused to rcoognize the Republican State government in Louis iana since 18715 by voting against seating a Senator chosen by it. While in my judgment it was clearly the right of the President under the Constitution to recog nize the Packard government and sup port it by military power, the undertak ing would have been futile and failure disastrous; with divided public opinion in his own pasty and both houses of Con gress against him, ho would have faded in the end. Tho Democratic House has power to destroy the army entirely, and from my knowledge of tho Senate, I am sura the Republican majority of that body could hardly be relied on to support him in such a course. We have had so much talk about coticiiia ion and frater nity that many well meaning people in the North had come to believe ail that was necessary to secure tranquility and equal rights in the South was to withdraw the army, the Republicans to abandon the struggle, and commit tho government to the white Democrats of those States. HOW HONESTY AFFECTS THE SENATOI! AND HIS FOLLOWING. “The professed yearning for nance* and fraternity cf the very men who* planned the massacres in LouAiann, Mississippi and Souiit Carolina have been received with disgust, iutehrfdy nauseating to the people who understood the facts. The painful truth is that political murder in the South have e used to Oo shocking, and are readily justified by energetic talk about carpet baggers, scalawags and Radical thieves. Not a man has been punished for the butcheries at Hamburg, Ellenton, Coifax, Coushatta, Mechanics’ Institute, Clinton, Vicksburg, or any other of the hundred, slaughters of Re publicans that might be named. hxfi VIEWS ABOUT PBESIDENT HAYES. “I don’t believe that President Hayes intends to destroy tho Republican parly and attempt U.e erection of anew one upon its ruin.-.. I believe in his patriot ism aid high integrity, in his undivided purpose io make the administration a be neficence to the country. The language of his inaugural was strong and beautiful, and the declaration of his devotion to the great doctrines of human rights which constitute the foundation of the Republi can party, left nothing to be added or de sired. He began the conduct of national affairs under circumstances of extraordi nary difficulty. Tho minds of men were greatly divided as to what should be done, while ail were agreed that something should be done ; that things could not long go on as they were. He marked out his course and addressed himself to it with undaunted courage, “Mr. Hayes was elected an a Republi can, and x believe he will be a Republi can President, not in a mere partisan way, but in the reuse of devotion to Re publican principles, and maintenance of Republican organization by placing the political power in tko bauds of worthy and qualified Republicans. Political principles do not ex,epate themselves. They require a petty to do that. Organ ization in politics is as necessary as in war. _ Great numbers of the same way of thinking, but acting without concert, are as helpless as an unorganized multitude in the presence of a disciplined army. THE GBAN’D EEPUBLICAN PABTY. “I present the Republican party as ft grand and indispensable instrumentality for carrying into operation the true principles of government and human rights. We hear ;t said that the Repub lican system or reeoi.stru is u xVdk ike only sens*. h-.tU . Xu. . # armed and murderous orminizft&fps, V; terrorism and proscriptions, Wi wicked and cruel of tho age, ,auii|j yi f Demo. 'i Hi m tissuraneesio President Hu; m Louisiana and elsewhere of protect!-■! and equal , rights are executed in vgooaw faith the system will not be a failttrrjnut ■ a grand success extorted from its enemies. “The great features of reconstruction are the Fourteenth and Fifteenth amend ments to tho constitution establishing the equal civil and political rights of ail men, and the statutes enacted for enforcement. So far as these have failed reconstruction is a failure; so far as they succeed reconstruction is a success. m| THE SOUTHERN PUBFOSE. “Let it be understood that the great purpose now of the Southern people is to recover from the losses inflicted by thti ] rebellion. They do not now think of leaving the Union. They aro not now preparing schemes for future secession, but are, with intense earnestness, re volving plans for recovering from their great losses. For this purpose they will support the Democratic party North as long as it is subservient to their policy, notwithstanding their ill-repressed resent ment for its inliuouco in getting them into a rebellion, and its sneaking cowardly course while it lasted. We are told that they are quiet in those States where Democratic rule is established \ ery likely. When they have gained J.o complete power and the Republican pAy hus ceased to struggle, there will b In inducement to shoot men because of their politics. Thq*v will be peace when there is abject r mission. Let tho recent massacre/. Mississippi, which has made the Modoc comparatively re spectable, answer. Peace, which is ob tained by stamping a political party out of existence, is not u; harbinger of pros perity and haVpint- .” After fnrtll r di -cussing .. Senator Morton says: “The men ftj within several 'years, have Sp Democratic party m solid co IH , >■■■ K South, aatiMgSfc ooaNt•wrtinTntij’ Roflent qW the equal ,i 0 f mu. : ny opinion that the body of t , ru Democracy hu not changed in regard to tho civil and pofitioal rights of the negro, and that if Tildan had been elect ed President within his 'term of four years the fourteenth aud fifteenth amend ments would have been substantially overthrown.” The Senator proceeds at length in this forced and foolish strain, illustrating in himself how impossible it is for men of his stamp to progress either in morals or polities any further than the period upon whose events they rose into power, and to \vhich they owe their prominence as public men. He oioses with this charac teristic sentence; “Should tho North by unhappy discoid be dividod and thus fall prey to the solid Confederate South, re bellion will have been suppressed in vain, the fruits of the war lost and our last condition worse than the first.” ARMAGEDDON. The f.astern Hnr ■ <tn4 | Prophecies 10 bo Piilfll led. [Austin (Texas) Statesman.} In view of the impending conflict in Europe, tho followin'; may interest your readers: About thirty years ago, a gen tleman residing in Middle Tennessee, and at the time at the head of one of tho largest OB' prosperous institutions of learning n the South, published what purports tb boa true interpretation of tbo prophecies contain- and in the Bible. Tho work created a profound sensation, for the author was well known as being incomparable as a Hebrew and Greek scholar, and was respected by theologians everywhere because of his thorough knowledge of the sacred writings. In his work ho agrees with all tbo eminent commentators up to a certain period, after which his interpretations are entire ly dilferent from any ever made, and his arguments to sustain them aro unique and highly interesting. It is remarkable that Don Oftstellar, tbe great Spanish statesman, in a brilliant article published in the New York Herald early last year,< takos the same ground ud eniertaina same opinions that tho author to whom I have alluded does in regard to the future of this country andiiho oonlTct now or jnenoingiii Ihr ye. mt-J 'ih - ; ’ ’.juSi RitioiisTiiifei;. •. so valeiy, is, to say the least, a remarkable c , incidence. But wliat I wish to call your attention to at this time is the following remarkable in-, terpretation of one of the propheoies rft Ezekiel: “The Kings of the South shall push or butt at him, and tho King of tbo North shall come against him like a whirl wind, with chariots and with many ships. ’ Russia is the power which tho King of the South is to “push.” Tho King of tho South is Turkey, on the south of Russia, and tho King of the North is Great Britain. This is evident, he says, from its northern posi tion as a great power, and from tho im mense naval, as well as land forces, it possesses. Ho says tho attack of Eng land, or Great Britain, on Russia is to bo great and furious but finally unsuccess ful; for Russia will move right on. and . moro than gain her purpose. She will, conquer Asia Minor and tho Turkish empire generally, and will advance on Palestine, and “shall havo power over treasures of gold and silver, and over all tho precious things of Egypt.” While engagod in these conquests, “tidings out of the East and oat of the North shall trouble him." The tidings from the East and the North may be the news of the disaffections of the Papal ppwes .nr . account of tho superiority which ] Russia gives to tho Greek Church, and on I account of holy places in Judea. The! word tidings seems alidf he says, to indi-l cate great insurrections. He is positive! that tho Russian empire *has two groat! works to do: the first -is to destroy the! Roman church in Europe, and the oiholfl to attack the United States. He alscl states in his book that beforo th wr/F begins for the conquest and annihilation of Turkey, tho French people would es tablish a republic, and assist the United States at the time Russia makes the it~ tack. According to this writer, the pres ent war in Europe will become gen or:,! and be the most fearful tho world has v witnessed, and is to take place beforo tha 117th day of tho year 1878. Apt Ar'aul Aid. The following is from Rev. Henry J. Yan Dyke’s recent sermon before the | Northern General Assembly at Christ is the Advocate of sinners, the| Angel of tho Covenant, the Author anefl Finisher of faith, the Alpha and Orncifl ness of OCHfißfl souls, the 'B74R| of God, of si Covenant, tja stone, thejnl vation, tiyagfe of God, Father -oil living dead ov'-ii Heritage, the HabitatioTß the Judge and King of s&l of God that taketh away tho world, the Mediator and Zvl sen l new covenant, the Messiah of ail *he J prophets, and tho Morning Star 01 thol everlasting day. He is the Only begotten of the Father, the root anil offspring of David. He is the Prophet, the Priest, the Prince of Peace, the Propitiation for sin, the Physician of souls, the Power of God unto salvation. He is the Rock, the Ref uge, the Hansom, the Righteousness and Resurrection of all who shall be saved. He is the Son of God and of man? the Seed of womaß, the Shiloh, the Sure ty and the Shield, the Sacrifice and Sanc tuary, the Sanctification and the Sun of all saints. He is the Truth, the Treasure, the Teacher, the Temple, the Incarnate Wisdom, tho faithful and true Witness; in short, he Is the very Word of God. In His name all divine revelations are sum marily comprehended. Chicago’s Divobce.— Perr jons holdmj decrees of divorce dbtailed in Chicagl will be interested in Vne caae of Nelsol F. Hood, of Aurora, Indiana, who dot fl divorce in a lit ah court through aCincayß lawyer married again, though 1 neve? went nearer Utah than Chicagl Gn prosecution by his wife in Dearboll county, Indiana, Circuit Court, Hood been found guilty of fornicafciafu, sentenced to pay one hundred ancNii v month.:.’ iiuoris^jjjjgij^