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BRUNSWICK
BRUNSWICK.
GEORGIA.
SUSPECTED.
ny! j»ss me by,
Thou friend of other years;
No voice shall ask thee why—
No cry, no tcdrs.
Brother!—my own,
From thee I learned the nhine,
Ko «weet, in days now flown—
Pause not to blame.
Sister! pass on,
On, on; turn not thy head;
Life lasts, but faith is gone,
And I am—dead.
Not by my side-
Lover, apart remain;
The heart b;
y sorrow tried
Forgives the pain.
ered, he said: “Whatin the name of
Heaven, is the matter with you, my
friend?”
“Where is your model?—who is
your model T gasped Byrd.
All was explained, and then the old
man continued:
“ Take your painting; com® with
me to my house.
Gilbert followed his old friend, and
he entered a superb mansion in due
direct to the
i ... *-i—
time, a.iju vttus men umeu
studio. His own picture wn* plneeH
beside another, and it was the young
man’s turn to start in surprise, for
Heed net my form,
Hearts where ray own has Iain,
Clasped therein friendship warm,
Turn noi again.
Through narrow walls
A path leads to the sky;
From thence shall mercy fall;
Let me go by
THE TWIN PORTRAITS.
A rising artist! So Gilbert Lawson
was called, but only by a small circle
m surprise,
here was two portraits exactly alike
with the exception of the dress.
Mr. Byrd now said: “ Be seated,
Gilbert, and I will tell you a secret
which has never been breathed to mor
tal man before. Twenty years ago I
painted the likeness of my only daugh
ter, and the picture you see before you.
She was then ten years of age ; she is
now thirty, and strll with me.”
“May not this be her child—this
model of mine ?’”
“ Listen. At the age of nineteen
my daughter did as many a good girl
has done before her—she married,
without my knowledge, one who was
f to me an entire stranger, and nearly
in 'so to her. That husband proved to be
a villain, for, in two years after, he
of his especial friends. Otherwise he forsook Jjgx, - More than this—he took
was entirely unknown to fame. Bu
He was hopeful. Once he saw an eagl
leave its nest, and soar up high to
wards the sun, while its unfeathered
young fluttered, but remained behind
unable to follow. He felt that it was
much the same with himself—that
struggles would strengthen his pinions,
and he would in time be able to ascend
the great ladder of fame. And so he
toiled unceasingly.
For some months he had been en
gaged upon a portrait. He had found
his model in a young girl, perhaps
twelve years of age. He had first
seen her in the streets, and she was a
beggar, or the next thing to it—she
was a street singer. When her voice
first fell upon his ears it thrilled him,
for it was wildly beautiful. He knew
that voice trembled. He saw her
hand as it was extended to receive the
pitiful coin dropped into it, and he ob
served that this trembled also, and
that it was very tiny and delicate.
Then he looked upon her face.
Her eyes were of heavenly blue, but
wore a sad expression and were down
cast. Her’golden hair fell in tangled
masses over lier shoulders—indeed she
was beautiful, althouj. h no one but the
young and enthusiastic painter had as
vet especially noticed that beauty.
When he explained to her his wish,
her face became radiant with pleasure,
which lent it an additional charm.
The picture was completed anti the
artist snt gazing on it. He could
scarely decide iu his own mind which
h'e loved the best—the original or the
semblance. But, dropping a curtain
before the work, he arose, and walked
to the window, gazing into the street.
A sigh escaped him, and so absorbed
were his thoughts that he did not ob
serve the entrance of a second party
until a hand was placed on his shoul
der, and a voice said: “Gilbert, I
have called to see your work, as I
promised you.”
The artist blushed and even trembled
and as he lifted the covering,remarking:
>1 nr.. t>.. ..i b
-ixi. x>i im, nvic ueueims upon a
few words which you will speak now.
I have thrown my whole soul into this
picture, and I am everything or
nothing. You are an old* painter—
Sjieak candidly—tell me just what you
It was some moments liefore the
young man raised his eyes, and then
only when attracted by the long con
tinued silence of his friend. When he
did so he saw that Mr. Byrd was pale
as death, had sunk into a chair and
that he trembled violently. He sprung
ig /with him a daughter by the name of
ef Gracfe!** The blow nearly killed the
mother and even time has never
healed the wound. I have made every
effort to trace out thejnan, and recov
er our darling, but iif^vain. I gained
such information, however, that I was
satisfied he had died miserably in a dis
tant town, and we have given little
Gracie up as lost forever. Now you
can account for my agitation when I
first saw your painting, can you not ?”
“ I can divine your thoughts.”
“ I ’only know her as Katie, the
street singer.”
“You know where she can be
found?” ‘
“Yes.”
“ Let us go to her at once.”
In two hours after, the little beggar
entered the splendid salon of the Byrd
mansion. Sne was bewildered, for she
had never gazed upon so much ele
gance before, except as she had seen it
from the streets through the closely
curtained windows. Her confidence
was soon restored, however, by the
kind treatment she received, and then
she was conducted to the study.
As her eyes fell upon the pictures,
she stood motionless for a time, and
then said: “Why, you have painted
two pictures of me, instead of one, Mr.
Gilbert.”
“ Yes—woyld you not like a copy ?”
“ Oh, so much J” she answered, her
eyes becoming brilliant in anticipa
tion.
“ You shall have one of them.
Which do you prefer ?”
“ This, I feel as if I could love it!”
and the young creature knelt before
the mother while tears filled her eyes.
This was too much for the grand
father. He sunk into a seat, and cov
ered his face with’his fingers.
“What is your name?” asked Gil
bert.
“Katie Courtney. I thought you
knew that before.” J
“ Courtney was his name,” groaned
the old man. |
“ Do you remember your parents ?”
again asked Gilbert.
“O n ty my father. He was not very
kind to me, and died in Plymouth sev
eral years ago.”
a lady entered the room. She was
pale, and staggered as if suffering from
great weakness. She clutched the
back of a chair for -support and then
asked in a faint voice: “Who is this
singer ?”
To have answered in words would
have been useless, However, for her
eyes had fallen upon the face of the
child; and, with a dull shriek, the
mother fell fainting upon the floor.
In an instant Katie, or Gracie, as
was her real name, was by her side,
As she gazed upon the marble face
she exclaimed: “Oh, this is the other
picture!”
“ Can you imagine who it is ?”
“ Not my mother! Oh, tell me, is
it my mother ?”
“It is.”
Joy never kills. The orphan child
at this moment gave vent to her feel
ings in sobs, caresses, and words of en
dearment; and it was not long before
the mother was fully conscious of her
great happinesss.
Those twin portraits had been the
means of unitine those loved ones,
who had been so long and cruelly sep
arated.
PARAGRAPHS op THE PERIOD.
Moody and §anw are to eond^
meetings in Montreal . ext j une
The treasury girls A m , <B
until he is forty-seven. \ en
How Dukes and Princes Live.
Johu Paul writes from London to
the New York Tribune: As for the
noble swells themselves, from what I
have seen of them (though perhaps
one can very little judge of what peo
ple actually are hy simply meeting
them in court circles and the glare of
fashionable drawing rooms), 1 should
say they are not a bad lot, generally
speaking, and that in the main they
are well behaved, less given to putting
on frills than one would suppose, con-
siderin
Their
And you have been singing for
your bread ever since ?”
I have.”
Well, it you are to have the pic
ture, I want you to sing me a song
now. You will do so, mil you not ?^
“ Oh, yes, willingly.”
all the fuss made over them,
ouses, as a rule, are not at all
the palaces which an ardent republi
can imagination pictures. The Duke
of Marlborough’s doesn’t begin with
the houses I had in Brooklyn. The
Bishop of Brooklyn’s residence would
put the Bishop of London’s to the
blush, were the brick of the latter not
so dingy that its red is invisible brown.
The Duke of Norfolk’s town house you
would inventory as but a cheap board
ing-house in passing it casually by.
Aspley house, famous for the Water
loo banquets given there in the Duke
of Wellington’s time (bloody good din
ners they ought to have been), is a
sort of saVcophagus externally, and I
would as soon think of trying to be
jolly in the British museum among the
Abyssinian antiquities. Even Buck
ingham palace, where the blessed
queen eats her royal mutton, has no
point of architectural beauty to hang a
recollection on. Marlborough house,
Wales’ wigwam (what you can- see of
it), has rather a jollier face, and pass
ing by it the other day, I saw “Ich
Dieu ” written on the cate. Suppos
ing that this meant that the prince
was at dinner, I didn’t go in to dis
turb him ; but I have since learned
(the newspapers let it out once in a
while) that he was and is in India.
Wales, by the way, is a great’favorite
with the people, notwithstanding that
he owes something more than £500,-
000. He is a good fellow, and spends
his money freely, they say. And there
Is . not one of his specially-appointed
wig-makers or pan-dowdy’ bakers,
| probably, who would refuse now ev^n
to trust him.
Extravagance in Dress.—The
extravagance of dress, which becomes
greater from day to day, alarms per
sons of moderate means. They forget
that there are several degrees in the
fashions, and that the plain and unpre
tentious lady, who desires to go into
society, is not obliged to have the same
dress or diamonds as are worn by the
She b&none ofK wild e e™i m ,a I1 d | £? £
the d veUmg wa, filled with nelody. equally Applicable to tfi. cZtlf'a
This had not long continual before many an unfortunate husband ^
to his side with a sup of water, and
when the old man ha/par,ia% r«ov- the doorTfiThA S/™ o^edTS i .?£
as
can te$-
try to change it to “Hub.
An Indianapolis man is excitfe. w
cause one of the papers called his fuT
large Latian nose a snuff-tank. _ '
Ttte London under ground railway,
the last six months of 1875, carried
26,600,000 passengers without acci
dent.
A Dut ch Bible, of the date of 1777,.
was found in the tower of the old
Dutch church, New York, at its de
molition recently.
A majority of the murderers who
are hanged nowadays believe that af
ter the drop the next act in the drama
will represent them sitting on the illu
minated edge of a thunder-cloud sing
ing hallelujah.
If some people in' San Francisco
don’t quit whispering that Senator
Sharon is “ embarrassed,”’ he will set
out a gold ash-barrel on his sidewalk
every morning, and build a silver
stoop to his house.
“Minnie has been to see me to
day,” said a five-year-old, “and she be
haved like a little lady.” “I jope
you did, too,” said her mother. “Yes,
indeed, I did; I turned somersaults
for her on the bed.”
Literary poison is being handed
around too carelessly to our girls and
boys, and parents who do not wish
their children to die morally before
they reach their teens, should look
sharply alter tkeir reading.
Professor Tyndall is married'
and when his wife kicks him out of
bed he doesn’t get mad, but looks upon
it as a curious and interesting illustra
tion of the conservatism of energy and
of the effects of molecular moiion.
A young lady dressed in much
false hair was warbling at the piano,
and when her mother summoned her
to assist in some household duties her
rosy lips opened poutingly, and she
snapped out, “ Oh, do it yourself !”
And then she went on singing: “ Kind
words can never die.”
Japan has a Bible in the schools
controversy, the Budddhists endeavor
ing to have the reading of the Bible ia
the Christian school in Kivota prohib
ited by the order of the emperor. The
Buddhists are very influential, and are
favored by the emperor, but his chief
counsellor and the minister of educa
tion are friendly to Christianity.
During the past year 6,863 horses,
asses or mules were butchered for food
in Paris, and averaged over four hun
dred pounds of meat each. It is said
that the best Bologna sausage is made
of asses’ meat, but latterly it is seldom
obtained unmixed with horses’ flesh,
t may interest some of our readers to
know that several thousand pounds of
the above edible yearly conies to this
market from France.
Emily Faithful says in Women
and Work: “We like unladylike
girls. We dislike to hear a chit of ten
or eleven praised for being ‘such a la
dylike little girl.’ We would far
rather hear the complaint, ‘ Mary is
! so boisterous; she never comes down the
j stairs but always down the bannisters;
she tears about like a mad thing, and
is never so happy as when she is after
some lark, as she calls it!”
An interesting statement was made
by President Dodge in his centennial
sermon, in Brooklyn, to the effect that,
while the Baptists had contributed
only one-ninth of the money given by
American m Christians for foreign mis
sions, an d sending only one-tenth of
the missionaries, had yet more than one-
half the communicants and churches in
heathen lands. In the first twenty
years only 500 converts were made, in
the last twenty years 61,000.