Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

I as a foregone conclnsion. All at once his face clouded, and he said: “ Mr. Roberts, I don’t know that yon’ve got backbone! If yon haven’t the grit of a cata mount and the cnnning of a fox, you'll make a botch of this job.'' For reply, Roberts threw off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and opened his shirt-bosom. Here was the mark of a bullet-wound; there the flesh showed where the knife had opened it, and the Colonel counted up the scars, and said: “If you hadn’t backbone yon wouldn't be carrying these around. I’ll trust you to do all you can, and here’s your money !” The next day the Colonel was allowed to pay another visit to Walter. Since the young man had escaped the guillotine, the guards were not so strict, and his treatment was less barbarous, though he was still carefully guarded. “Walter, my boy,” said the Colonel, as he seated himself in the cheerless cell, “yonve got a heap of nerve and pluck, and I ve found a man who’s got just as much more. Between the two of you I think we can walk all around these high-nosed Frenchmen!” (TO BE CONTINUED.) [For The Sunny 8outh.] “ ORIGIN OF KING LEAR.” In a late issue of The Sunnt South, there ap peared an article with the above title, in which the story concerning the Emperor Theodosius, told in the “ Gesta Romanorum,” is given as the origin of “ King Lear.” Since the matter is such as cannot fail to be of interest to even a general reader, I hope to be allowed to say something further upon it; and, with due regard for the author of the above- mentioned article, to offer a correction to the statement, ascribing the origin of “ King Lear” to the “ Gesta Romanorum.” That the “ Gesta Romanorum,” or, at least, certain portions of it, was known to Shakspeare, is quite evident, since translations from it had been published as early as 1577, and use of ma terial, to be found in it, is certainly detected in his work—as, for instance, the choice of the three caskets in “The Merchant of Venice.” But that from this source he derived the idea of “ King Lear” is not only improbable, it is quite certain he did not; for the story of Lear existed in the literature of hi6 day in a form very simi lar to that in which we now possess it in his tragedy. Following the best Shakspearian authorities, the English genealogy, so to speak, of Shak- speare's “ King Lear/’ may be traced as follows: The historical legend of “King Leir and his Three Daughters ” refers to the ninth century before Christ. “ The oldest version of it,” says H. H. Hudson in his preface to his edition of the tragedy, “in connection with British his tory is from Geoffrey of Monmouth, a Welsh monk of the 12th century, who translated it from the ancient British tongue into Latin- From thence it was abridged by the poet’s fa vorite chronicler, Holinshed.” From thence it was transferred into the domain of fiction, and in “ The Minor for Magistrates," 1587, appears a poem entitled: “ Iloic (jueene Cordila, in dispaire, slew her selfe, the yeare before Christ, 800,” by one John Higgins. Mr. J. Payne Collier, in his “Shakspear’s Library,” says, in this connection: “There is nothing to connect Skakspeare’s tragedy particularly with this speci men of supposed auto-biography (meaning the poem of John Higgins), but there can be little doubt that he was well acquainted with so pop ular n performance as “ The Minor for Magis trates.” Higgins would seem to have been the first (Harding in his chronicle excepted) who put the story of Lear and his daughters into verse; and he was followed in 1590 by Spenser, who briefly introduces the chief circumstances into his “ Faerie Queene,” Book II, Canto 10. r-.i-.4A, ouuniea im true chronicle history of King Leir, and his three daughters, GonoriU, Hagan and Cordelia,” which is two years prior to the entry of Shakspeare’s tragedy at the stationers', the date of which entry is “November 26, 1607.” That this play, printed, as the title page informs us, ‘ ‘ <is it hath bene divers and sundry limes lately acted,” was known to Shakspeare, cannot be doubted; and that from it he derived the idea of treating the subject dramatically himself, can easily be believed on the internal evidence de duced from a comparison of the two works where in similarities are to be found. Especially no ticeable among these resemblances may be mentioned that of “ unmannerly ” Kent to the Rerillus of the earlier play; a likeness which, bemg, as it is, between secondary characters, is strong proof that the one was suggested by the other. There are other points of resemblance between these two plays, as well as between the later and Holinshed’s Chronicles, which it is not improb able Shakspeare also made direct use of in this, as in other of his works, which might be men tioned were it necessary to go into detail. Suf ficient has been presented in the above, how ever, to prove that, although he may hnve been acquainted with the story about Theodosius, in the “ Gesta Romanorum," it was not upon it that Shakspeare founded his tragedy, but upon tho earlier play, in connection with the Chronicle. It may not be irrelevant to mention that it was Spenser who softened the original “Cordelia” into “Cordelia;” and that Shakspeare was the first to change the original "Leir” into “Lear.” The tragedy of “ King Lear” was first published in 1(108. [For The Snnny South.1 THE FAMILY HARP. BT H. D. C. Fair faces beaming round the honsehold hearth; Toung. joyous tones in melody of mirth; The sire doubly living in his boy. And she, the rose of all that wreath of joy; These make the home like some sweet lyre given lo sound on earth the harmonies of heaven. A sudden discord breaks the swelling strain,— One chord has snapped; the harmony again Subdued aud slower moves, but nevermore Can pour the same glad music as of yore. Less and less full the strains successive wake— Chord after chord must break, ami break, aud break, Until the lyre, on earth all dumb and riven. Finds all its chords re-strnng to loftier notes in heav'n. mellower tone than in the old days, “I have come again to offer the same love you slighted for a gilded home.' I have loved you long and tenderly, and my soul cries out for the blessing of your love, that could be the only crown my innnhood craves. Will yon be my wife?” [For The Sunny South.] UNDER THE MAPLE. BY MART PATTON HUDSON. again, and taking the wondrous solitaire dia mond from out its purple bed, slipped it slowly on the little brown finger, and said; “My be trothal ring”! A great sparkling, living, bril liant gem it was, and Cyrus Boyd saw it_on the slender finger, as she dried the dishes that eve by the flickering light of the sickly tallow can dle. He might have smiled, had his heart been less sore, at the incauyruity of the coarse attire and gorgeous gdbr, out he only sighed and turned away, with his bleeding love for inward com panionship. The die was cast—she bad chosen the riches of Earle Place, and its glory of purple and tine linen. Gen. Fleming knew before tlie moon had risen that Katie Moore had chosen to be his bride. No more would her bands be i and take the love I rudely trampled under wan- stained by toil, but luxurious life would make j ton feet in the old days?” them white and soft, like those of my lady Lane, Again, as then, he stood once more under the the village doctor’s wife, and then, the great 1 old maple tree, thinking of all that had fallen gem would not so- illy become the small and j out of his life since that evening when the rude well-shaped hand, when the dishonor of toil awakening of his love-dream was forced upon was taken from them forever. She reasoned ' him, and of the great completeness of the present, thus to her heart, and strove to drive the phan- ' and he rejoiced within himself as he owned, ex- [For The Suuny South.] FIT TO BE AN ANGEL. BY AIREE PORTER. It was two o’clock in the morning and a busy HiUi'MHi HIU wc IUI V* lie i , -- -- - ; i i j* She had turned a startled face toward him ! day s reward in the shnpe of news had been dis when he called her name, but the color slowly t posed of and the foreman was ringing up e V # OP I ... •» •«» ■■_ l:i . -t- _ i: . ..pocutimn fn popoivo tha “ IOmiS HI III died from off her rounded cheek, while she lis tened to bis words and prayer-the prayer that had made of itself a sacrifice pitiless and deep. There was no proud, cold look in the velvet eyes that turned toward him while she an swered : ’“Wav I come? Mav I indeed be your wife. “Behold the lilies of the field, they toil not, neither do they spin,” pretty Kate Moore re peated to herself, as she stooped to pluck a water toms of remorse far from her, by these gilded dreams of what the future was to bring, when forgetfulness would come to licr. Gen. Fleming was not very old, she further argued, and had a gentle patrician manner, and so, after all, she could do no better thing than to take the name \ maiden dream and home he offered her, and live henceforth in ultinglv, that he was far richer for all the pain the past sad years had given him to bear. And what were riches then to Katie Fleming? And tlie wee, wee cottage under the hill was at length a beautiful fulfillment of her earliest lily from the edge of the limpid stream. Her j a life of splendor and ease, and when the mar- j soliloquy was fraught with much discontent, for I riage rites were over, and there could be no the demon of unrest within her heart marveled 1 “shadow of turning," then would the demons why she was not fed and clothed without the | of . unrest leave her in peace forever, and white- daily labor that embrowned her cheeks and little | winged happiness take its place and abide for hands, and made the songs of the birds seem j a Y e - Had she known Cyrus Boyd s character cheerless, for she coveted the “ purple and fine | less, she would hsj^liuilt castles in the air for linen” nntmrel. in nlace of the coarse stnff her ! his inhabiting: Init she was sure he would accept none of the price obtained for bis betrayal. She [For Tho Suuny South.] AFTER TEE FAIR. BY KITTY SOUTH. linen ” apparel, in place of the coarse stuff her poverty wore. Shadows fell athwart the sun shine, that lay so slumbrous and still across the fields of new-mown hay, and the air was sensu ous with the languor of exquisite scent and hazy warmth. The cooing of the summer doves answered the humming noise of restless insect life, the whirring quails sped onward to the wood bereft of their lowly homes, and tiny nestlings, by the encroachment of the harvesters. Katie Moore’s brown fingers wove garlands of the snowy lilies that echoed yet with the song of the honey-bee, and her heart was lightened some what of its burden by the ripple of her song and the rhythmic echo of the waters, edged by the cool fern leaves and "fairy crowns,” that smiled at her under the great shadow of the maple. The Pewits turned their heads from side to side, and wondered at the picture of the little woman, as she crowned her pretty head with the wreath she had woven and scanned the ! *“ T ' ,r had made the sale, and must abide alone by the terms thereof. The weeks were long that followed the be trothal, and Cyrus Boyd had bidden them all farewell, and gone away, no one knew whither, nnd he had not meant for them to know. In the early nutumn, when the maple leaves were hectic with the dying flush of summer, she was married in the little village church. It was a simple ceremony, and the bride was pale, like the bridal roses she wore in her braided hair, but very stately and self-possessed, as became the station on which she stood. If regret had aught to do with her pallor, it showed nothing in the quiet dignity of her repose. Her beauty had brought its price, and the goal was won. The past, with its attendant ghosts of shameful toil, was thrust aside to be remembered no more for- The house is full of girls who came down to us last week for the fair, nnd though it is a driz zly, dreary November day, we manage to keep warm nnd bright. This is Monday after fair week. In consequence of this abominable rain, the girls are not troubled with many calls to-day, but sit about the house in groups, chatting of ; the fun or pleasure which came to them at the fair grounds,—the races, the S. C. ball, the con certs, the club dance, and in short, all the de- j lights of the past week are thoroughly discussed. pressman to receive the “ forms ” of the paper ns I left the office and hurried homeward. The moon was shining briglitlj' and the air soft and warm. Being weary and desirous of saving dis tance I turned across a railroad track and passed through a side street that I had sometimes trav eled before. In this street, lived a number of poor families in small neat cottages, and the neighborhood was respectable, most of the resi dents being laboring people. In one of these cottages I had noticed there lived but two per sons, an old and feeble lady and a not unhand some, tidy and modest young girl. I knew noth ing of them, further than that the young lady was employed with an np-town seamstress, and that her mother and herself were otherwise alone in the world. As I oame to their little home a feeling of pain came to me. From the windows, half open, there came out and lost itself ’mid the moonlight, “a dim, religions lanip-liglit,” that told of watchers in the presence of death. Faintly I heard moans of distress, and through the open door saw the coffin of the dead. I stood still and thought of the two inmates—could it be that the angel of God had summoned from earth that aged and care-broken mother? Had grief entered in and the solitude of earth closed around the youthful but bruve, loving heart of that daugh ter? A score of questioning suggestions follow ed each other in my mind. Just then, an old man came out from the watchers and stood against the gate, smoking his solacing pipe. I approached and found him to be an honest old laboring man of my acquaintance, and I said: “ Mr. , what is the matter?—is one of the ladies dead ?” Yes, sir; she’s been sick this two weeks, poor Only a few beaux have dropped in upon us, and ( thi an - sbc d hard to live , but las’ night, but for the innate mirth of these young hearts, | * & good £>rd sent death upon her.” And our house might resolve itself into the calamitous ’ w * an wl d his s nnd Sighed, condition ot the love-lorn who sings, .. Upon wbo> 1 » ir >_ XTp ^ n the mother ?” The loug, long weary day Is passed in tears away.” For you, my readers, who are distant from our little inland town of C , I must say a word of this Fair week of ours. We too, have a reflection of her lace in the shining water. 1 the yoathful woman he had chosen to preside Cyrus Boyd, the maiden's rustic lover, sat on ; OTOr his palatial home, and no gold was spared the fence, resting his scythe against the tree, i tor luxuries with which to surround the gem. and looked npon the young girl who, all uncon- i A keen faculty of observation, blended, with a scious of the scrutiny, still wove the fragrant ■ quiet reserve, did much toward softening the lilies into garlands, and hummed a few notes of ' hard lines that .a u*-. ad left on her life, till one “Barbara Allen.” The cloud was not wholly ! would have marveled that she had ever raked “State Agricultural and Mechanical Society „ ,, which holds this annual fair, beginning early in ! Gen. Merning was proud of the beauty of | November and lasting through a week. And Oh. no, sir; not upon the good, old lady, sir; the sweet-voiced and gentle-mannered young girl, sir!” “ Oh, that is very sad. One would have sup posed that the old lady would die first,—what will she do now without her only helper?” “Indeed, sir, I don’t know; she won’t last long, noway, sir, for you see she worshipped the gone from the sweet mouth, and honest-hearted Cyrus saw the lurking shadow there, and would have given his life to smooth it away forever; but somehow, of late, his betrothed had been what a general gathering of thebestof everything , ( . hibl and sbe * s been nigh crazed since the poor there is ! Best animals, best edibles, best work- , thin „ died Snre> she - s not to be wondered at manship, best men and women in their best for t batj because that blessed girl was all the clothes. world to the old lady. She was so kind nnd I, Kitty, bold that these fairs are mighty good { . arefuli and worked so hard, and gave the old things; the industrial benefits all concede, but W oman all that she had need for, and was so For awhile, Kate Fleming’s life was crowned grandpam! from A- 8 ’ ° ! ^ved her. W hen she died last night, sir. there, with contentment, but when the charm of nov- j jj ronnds l w ben - elty had sobered into reality, and her heart would ? ered a (fectionn strangely reticent,, and almost cold, and he was : r p am again the old life, she found that, like i breath assured determined to know, to-day, if she really cared J tbe golden gdt of bartons, the chain slie had i brfcd »” Ami the sweet-faced old dame, who, just jtb bpr q n _ s ; r sbe W as one of the best for him, or nay. He called her name soltly, as a ! taken glory m the forging was soon a burden of i through the monthly tending (usual upon such j ’ _ ‘ ’ r-’i be „ ood to her!” mother might call the name of her sleeping ! wearisome pain. Though a simple rustic maiden : occurrences) ot “Mary’s ninth,” has run down j ® **\\hat made von all so "love her?” child, but only the scarlet flame that mounted j sbe not wholly devoid of womanly tact, and f or the fair, and is as cheery and animated over her face, from neck to temple, would tell if he j sbe labored early and late to be a constant and ber f r j ends nIld her “best leaf lard” as heart was heard; whether it boded joy or anger, he | devoted wife to the man who had chosen her to i cou [ d wish. Then look at those young folk, nnd was not quite yet prepared to define. He could j share his “a™® aa< oundless wealth.^ bhe^was tell me if anything could be luckier for ltob not say that she loved nim not, but “true love vaunteth not itself,” and he called again: “Katie, will you hear me now, will you hear me once, and tnen. if you will it so, I will be quiet forever. Will yon be my wife? I have no lands or gold, but I am strong and brave, and I love you so, lassie; will you help me build the nest?” v t , But the cold look in the velvet eyeb hushed his prayer, and a quiver of pain was in tlir -** 1 — • '• . — things tfifth 1 can give you, and I hare known of late you have listened more to the voice of your dreams than to my love, that would have wooed too proud and had grown too cold to make n moan of remorse or regret, while she must fill up for herself, day after day, the cup of worm wood and drain it to the dregs. And so the years passed on, and the world forgot that the elegant woman, wife of the proud General Fleming, vas ever a gleaner in the fields, while her beauty was the theme of every tongue, put tln* rou Sh ’^crumple, and a verj- U X u« one.'in_ .h« f * ajj-j 3 d V» , bt‘*ri71? flfe world could n”t guess, and' the direful skeleton than these many fair-week opportunities of bein[ with Bessie? May fair week ever live! We then cast aside care and age; we all grow young, or feel so; we all grow happy, or dream so. Yes, as I begun by saying, the house is full of girls; and this November day, with its cold rain and leaden sky, which in England would be the signal to a man for blowing out his hrains, and What made us love her? Sure, sir, we couldn’t help it! Why, sir, she was an angel on earth to ns all. Nobody got sick, whether it was a man, woman or child, that she didn’t act as though it was her own mother or kin. She’d sit up with them, nurse them, make tliom all the nice little things to eat that she could. When my own dear wife was so sick she came and stayed by her like a sister and took Care of the children as though they were her own. When Tom, the orphan boy that drives the baker’s wagon, was sick and had his leg broke, didn’t she tend to to a woman for becoming “ one more unfortn- j b j m [j^e lie was her own brother? And of all Howfinerry they are, atfcf but' three meritorious I wne ““ a . w was lree as wntor to a11 who come 1 men have called this morning! Only three,— I anrt ne ? cle<1 _ lt - No begger ever went from her was securely hidden in the closet that no eyes n ? ve c , ert “oraing ! Only three,— t Landed noor saw. Always with her was the memory of the fkce ' two enjbr - v0 Preachers trom the Theolog- I P oor . as sIl . e of Cyrus Boyd when he tumeTfrom her as ! ^ al L ^minary, who, dropping water-proofs and ! thmk thftthfe « lven h< was. She seemed to given her in which to do good fts ; deed, but bitter fruit, and even the glow of their might cover the“saddened face' ofT’homeless | luxurious repining she could noTremembernow \ x 7 And no J a ™rd individually of these girls, j wj.° s?vV'” ^ “““ G ° d tLem to binds him w i tb anv feeling of pleasant reverie and the , , e 1 ? “lttie Iredell, who is freshness and ,,, T ,, , to the Fatherland. Cyrus saw the olorv ! ashes were ever on her tin* „n ! bloom ltHolf - She has set her heart noon izoine- i , t ? !' 11 the story of an obscure, covered a her ! bloom it ’ Solf ' 8he bas 8et her ^rt npon going I . “ f ! tbe story ot an obscure, d of the manor” * out to oItl John Robinson’s circus with the voung : !™ e ancl bonest hfe ’ wblch must bave the fnnXtoof ! Stone, and a rare treat will he enjoy in j lts rewar !l [For Tlie Sunny South.] BY SYLVIA HOPE. Nine of Diamonds—A Curious Account- Various reasons are assigned to account for Cyrus saw the glory of the i * s hes were ever on her lips and ^ suntido softly changing into the tender light of ' l*f e - Though the high-born “lord _____ evening, and he felt how bitter a thing it was, | knew that a seal was set above the fountum~of! C1 ™“ e '“ u “ 8 rare lreal will fie enjoy in | this thrusting away from him the dear hope of ! ber heart, whose music had never responded to i , vl ? g ber blmself - A secret in your ear, making an altar-place for himself and Katie i his touch, yet ho was satisfied with her meed of *T ou ^iH never whisper? Well, this same < . v ... . Moore. If hypenon locks, a jewelled pin, and 1 kindly mftnner and polite regard. He had made I - voun 8 le 8 al b R bt was here last evening, and be- | bLAAlh A l AN OIjU Ah >? orArER. well-cut cloth, were the insignia of nature’s no- | a fair purchase and had secured full value for Cftme sal } c . y , tb ? sociable length of his call, I bility, then Cyrus Boyd would have fallen low ! his price, and he had never regretted his choice ! 1 ” norod bis cahmistic rearing, and said with all in the balance poise. His lines had not fallen I He guessed not the ’ -• b -• ’ 1 nncimn h* *>™.i .. . in pleasant places, nor had fortune made of him j ma de its abode with’ a pampered thing, but the divinity of his man- j them both that he knew , hood, that would brook no human aid, was ! that made up the measure uu™ ». i strong within him, and had made its signet seal I Tbat she could dress with elegance in costly at- to be cruclfietb All this is very naughty, on the strengthful face and well knit form. It 1 tire, and fare ' was such a face as a traveler might see in a i rift te onion crowded mart, so full it was of masterful repose, j well-ordere and turn again to see once more, for a brief hoi- I the things n CU - UCU i K , uul ■ ... , , . , ■ . v — — i-.j ± t v « latter belonging has gone into the possession of r from Scotland. Who but Lillie „„„„ could have told at the breakfast table and sincerest purpose. Katie Moore fe7t~ his I time. ° * i bow Will had failed to find the steps that dark eyes upon her, and his gaze pierced her like | .. Winter wore away and spring came back to £2.“ . t -i£ 1 ? b J da “®!v and Low I “John Schoonmaker has one-half of a saw- liberty. ’ “ Tlie army of the Rhine has taken Manheim and Frankfort.” “Holland is evacuated.” There is local news: thorns: It was a hard moWoYbi«er“st^ggto ; the earth onc^ mo/e,‘healed lysong of bird ! ^rcfrlnd ^ ^ ^ 1 milled a“heaTtby! a^'negre wen^h for him, and no less bitter to her, in the meas- ; an< t smile 0 f flower. The cuckoo came again, ! T be P ? rcb j '? m a g am > when Will, spite of the ; for sale.” ure of her strength; that was a rivulet to an i aQ J told the starlings and blackbirds about its J 5i?? P i f? x _ d ? r _°® a ? a ? they drove to the ball, de- ocean compared to the passion that swayed his ! name, and the year°was rich with pulsing life. I ?- la - red 11 was not dark, for “there were two bright con 1 * lint Vin» a i . F* l T.n • « i ■» . _ . * soul; but her face kept its stony calm, and not a the nine of diamonds being called the curse of line softened benenth tbe long and lingering Scotland. First—Mary of Lorraine introduced farewell look. “Katie!” again the name fell the game of comet© into Scotland, at which the ' l "~ * nine of diamonds is the winning card, and ruin ed many Scottish courtiers thereby. Second— Because George Campbell, in the reign of Mary Stuart, stole nine diamonds out of the Scotish crown. The whole of Scotland was taxed for it, and the card was called, in consequence, not only the curse of Scotland, but said “George Campbell.. Third—James, Duke of Y'ork, is said to have introduced the game into Scotland, which by others is ascribed to Mary of Lorraine. Fourth—The Nine of Diamonds Pope, at Pope Joan, and Scotch Presbyterians gave it a bad name accordingly. Fifth—Because every ninth king of Scotland was a bad king, and diamonds representing royalty, the nine of diamonds was therefore stigmatized. Sixth—Because, accord ing to false report, the Duke of Cumberland wrote a cruel order at Cnlloden on the back of the card in question. Seventh, and lastly—The Dalrymple (Earl of Stair) family was a family of Whigs, to one of whom Scotland owed the massacre of Glencoe, and to another the defeat of the intrigues of the Stnarta at the French court. . The Dalrymples bore nine lozenges (sol- taire-wise) in their coat-of-arms, bearing some re semblance to the nine of diamonds, to which card the Scottish Jacobites are said to have given the name of the Curse of Scotland, in token of their hatred of name, title, and the memory of Stair and Dalrymple. What is wanted is the date at which the name was first given. A little boy gazing npon an old picture of his mother, taken in alow dress, remarked, “Mama, you was mos ready for bed when dat picter was tooken. . *• A B aoOK LTW young man of observation mon itions that girls who wear striped stockings pre- "fer to kick the gate open. ’ —r from his lips, trembling as they were with the suffering that filled his heart, and that tone of his clelt its way like a sword to the port als of her soul; but the dragon, ambition, for bade pity to yield one tithe of reward to the de spair that wrung the strong man’s heart. She could change this tone of his into a melody of Joy, but tb e dragon's fiat had gone forth, and her weak will was powerless to save. “You would have been safe with me, Katie- I wonld have cared for you, loved you and watched over your happiness as no other man will ever do. I would have sheltered you safelv from all storm, but you will not ” J She had no word for his pleading, and a mo ment more she saw the shadow of his form across the fields of scented hay; the birds had ceased their song, and only the whip-poor-will’s lonely cry was heard from the belted meadow fields Something akin to remorse stirred within her but the serpent had passed over the flowers and bereft them of their fragrance and beauty. At first, tlie desire for “something higher” had only been a dream of beautiful things, but it had assumed of late the form of stem resolve Her beauty had now its dower, and ambition stilled the memory of the love dream. She drew the letter she had that day received, from her pocket and read the lines over and over again, till the words were set to the dreary sound of the far-off whip-poor-will’s cry. As she looked across the fields of grain that lay between her and the Earle Place, she coaid just see the tur rets rising, dim and dark, in the greatenine gloom of the twilight hour. And then, with one heart-pang, she had crashed the tender dreams that she had nurtured, of a home in a wee cottage, where Cyras Boyd’s face would be her daily vision, and his love her daily joy The letter in her hand had a double meaning now, as she smoothed it out before her once “ Alexander Grant” (probably an ancestor of U. S. G.) “bas a letter in the post-office;” and General Fleming’s home was desolate, for the bim ’’ wb ° but our Lillie would | “Matys Van Steenbergh wishes the public to master lay in state. Done was tbe work of his t fo' n Vwn to ber fl prett - v bead m ,°^ dire £ ' understand that be no longer trusts bis wife worHly hands, and Kate had performed the last Veil* with^HWmS I in^ri ! Hannah - anii determined^to pay no debts of sad office for him, to whom she owed all the , ’w-n her sweet amiability, 111 bet she her contractin'*. ” nas a Will of her own ! grandeur of which she was mistress; and though she sorrowed not as one bereft of all hope in life, yet he had been always kind and observant of her comfort, and the house was lonely with out his guiding hand. He had been kind, but selfishness was not wffofly apart from him, as she learned but too truly when, after his death, she found the bulk of his property left to her with the condition that she remained his widow. Cyrus Boyd read the notice of the rich man’s death, and mused with bitterness as the memory of what might have been echoed through his heart, and over it all there lingered the far-off fragrance of a hope that he might win her yet to him, and no power on earth shonld keep her from him if her love bade her come. He would wait years for the right to woo her again, not as a prosperous man, but with nothing still in his hands but the great love that had never faltered in the years that had drifted between them. And Nannie Withers, with her great, soft eyes, where you plainly read: The sun was sinking lower and lower behind the purple and gold-tinted clouds that swathed the evening sky, and the scent of new-mown hay was mingled with the odor of water-lilies in the hands of Kate Fleming as she sat again under the maple tree, and the old-time fragrance of meadow honeysuckles was around her. Years had come and gone, and wistful shadows rested in the corners of the lovely mouth, where once the roses and dimples played. Cyrus Boyd scarcely knew that he had taken the old path until he found himself standing just where he stood that summer evening years before and said his last farewell The years seemed like a strange dream to him when he saw once more, in the old place, the woman for whose sake he had become an exile, and for whose sake the farrows were many in the broad brow. “Katie,” he said softly, and his voice had a “ Love reqnited. Fondly plighted,” needs no word of mine to tell her happiness. Young Fanny is fresh and fair, but shy and blushing, scarcely realizing her freedom 'from the school-room, and I find she is rather startled by the abandon ot these fully fledged. If I could only introduce, in propria persona, this whole bevy, who are making the old brick house resound with mirth ! Here is our clever, blue-eyed Stella, and the laughing punster, Ze- lica, whose toide ensemble declares her French blood, and lastly, the junior of the circle,’ who is “Just where the brook and river meet,” our child-like woman and womanly child, pet Lizzie. But down goes my pen now, for I am due down-stairs, “on hospitable thoughts intent” Hoping for a like success to fair week of 1876, and a re-union of all the “ fair women and brave men ” who have filled this house after the fair, I say au revoir. A Danbury deacon nearly captured five boys who had been devastating his chestnut trees on Sunday afternoon. Shaking his fist after their retreating forms, he angrily shouted, “The sneaking little devils ! if I had hold of ’em one minute I’d—,” and then suddenly espying his pastor on the scene, he impressively added, “I’d pray for them. ” A good book and a good woman are excellent things for those wljo know justly how to appre ciate their value. There are men, however, who judge of both from the beauty of the covering. The man best sooted to his business — the chimney-sweep. The inner columns are barred in mourning. There is a great, a solemn local news — Wash ington is dead, and lies in state at Mount Ver non. “There were the graves, the spacious avenue, the beautiful mansion—but, alas ! tbe august in habitant was now no more.” “In the long and lofty portico whereof the hero walked in all his glory, now lay the flirouded corpse.” “Between the hours of three and four o’clock the sounds of artillery from a veffel in the river awoke a-frefh our solemn sorrow. The corpse was moved; bands of raufic, with mournful melody, melted the soul into all the tenderness of woe.” “ The sun was near setting. Alas ! the son of glory was now set forever. No! The name of Washington, the American President and Gen eral, will triumph over death ! The unclouded brightness of his glory will illuminate future ages.” Beneath these prophetic words, are a few lines “By a Young Lady:” ** Where'er I turn the general gloom appears- Theae mourning badges fill my soul with fears Hark! yonder rueful noise—tis done, 'tis done! The silent tomb invades our Washington!” The young lady is dead; her dimpled hands can no longer set to rhymth her national sor rows, nor her dark, impassioned eyes turn Yearn ingly toward her Southland. \V ith tender care, I fold np the relic of 1800 and lay it away turning my sober gaze upon a fresh, bright sheet, contiguous. Ah what a contrast! Paper white and smooth as a magno lia leaf, elegant illustrations, type that is a feast to the eye, articles crisp, condensed, varied - wit wisdom and charming fiction; a place for every thing and everything in its place. Such is the newspaper of to-day.