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Roberts was not guilty, he should be returned
to France. He was asked if he was satisfied
with this arrangement, but he refused to speak.
About ten o’clock in the forenoon the trial
commenced. The case could have been no
plainer. There was the dead body of the boy,
bearing the marks of the cook’s fingers on his
throat, and Roberts had admitted to half a dozen,
including the Captain, that he had caused the
death of the boy.
At the end of an hour the evidence was all in,
and the jurors were told to render their verdict
without tear of censure, or without being influ
enced by their situation. They debated but a
moment before returning a verdict of “guilty,”
and the Captain stepped forward and said to
Roberts:
• “You have heard the verdict. The sentence
is that you be hanged at the yard-arm at sunset
this evening! ”
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
[For The Sunny South.]
MOTHERS LETTERS.
BY LOVELADY.
HOW TO ECONOMIZE—SO. V.
In a previous letter I endeavored at some
length to impress you with the importance of
useful employment. Beyond controversy, the
next requisite for success is economy. In a busi
ness point of view, it is absolutely necessary,
after reaping the reward of industry', to watch
well, else the coined labor will slip and dwindle
to empty-handedness ere you know it. Poor
Richard’s maxim about the saved penny has
passed into a proverb. There are so many wants
assailing us at every step in life that the poor
[For The Sunny South.]
ANSWER TO “SEVEN YEARS AGO.”
BY VIRGINIUS.
At the coming of the twilight, in its robes of silver gray,
O’er the star-bespangled heavens at the waning of the day;
Could you translate spirit language into accents sweet and
low,
You'd list again to love-notes whispered seven years ago.
When the moon is softy throwing over earth a silv’ry vail,
I rehearse alone to heaven that love-inspired tale;
And in the mystic twilight faint shadows flit and go, ,
Bearing semblance of a maiden loved seven years ago.
If plaintive strains of music with touching cadence fall,
’Tis the requiem of past happiness no power can recall; (
For quenched is the pure heart-flame that burned for me,
I know,
When we warbled rittornellas, just seven years ago. \
Yet tho’ the eyes, the bird-like tone, the bright, confiding
smile,
Are but shadows of the vanished past that mock me all the
while,
They outweigh all my present, and the founts of feeling
flow
Backward to the dream I cherished, seven years ago.
The end came speedily enough. At the ex- plause that greeted her closing song ! She had he lay down to sleep. He had no sooner laid
piration of a few weeks, the Cuban requested an not sung it for years; what was it? Something his head upon his lonely pallet than that sweet
interview with his host, and asked the hand of about an eternal sorrow, an infinite despair. ' comforter, sleep, threw its soft mantle over his
his only daughter, giving as an apology for his She would sing it again; now—now she could do : weary eyes, and he was at once in that deep and
haste the necesssty of his speedy departure for justice to the theme. : profound repose which is the natural conse-
New Orleans, whither important business called And so, in the solemn glory of the moonlight, qnence and cure of exhaustion. Little did he
him, and the ardent desire he felt to know his alone with her wrecked life, Nora threw up the dream that the grave, that great receptacle of all
dusty lid of her piano, and sang once more the
fatal song that had been the first link in the
chain that dragged her down to what she was.
Never had she sung it so well. On that memor
able evening she had simply tried to throw her-
fate before leavin_
Of Nora herself he was sure. With all the im
petuosity of her ardent nature she had given him
the most emphatic assurances of her devotion,
and now plainly announced to her father that
her happiness was dependent on his decision.
Mr. Churchill was not altogether unprepared
self into the wild, mournful despair of the
writer; she acted, and acted wondrous well.
human vanities, was already gaping wide its
mouth to receive him !
It was near midnight when General Hullin
and six other officers opened the door and en
tered his room. They aroused him from his
dreams to answer the charge of treason. There,
in a lonely castle, in the stillness of the night,
[For The Sunny South.]
GALLERY OF ME310RIES.
BY FLORENCE HARTLAND.
for such a climacteric, and could only urge the Then, it was the despair of another that thrilled without a friend or a witness to speak in his be-
necessitv of delaying his answer until he could through her rich, clear young voice; now, it was halt, he was called forth by these blood-thirsty
ascertain positively from other parties the char- the requiem of her own blasted life she sang, men to answer the charge ot “having borne arms
acter and social status of his prospective son-in- ! The sorrow, the regret, the agony, were her very against the government,’ and in many other
law. [ own; and she poured forth her passionate lament J ways plotted tor its destruction. This military
To this delay the impatient suitor reluctantly to the listening night, while the moonlight quiv- ; tribunal —the instruments ot Napoleon to carry
consented, and letters were at once dispatched ered in the white, anguished face and the winds | on his diabolical schemes—without a witness or
to friends of Mr. C in Havana, asking par- ! sighed their wordless sympathy. j any legal evidence, ordered this innocent Prince
ticulars concerning this Mr. De Leon; but the ; It was indeed a life’s requiem. ■ As she finished ■ to sutler death immediately. Alter a tew words
very night following, Nora eloped. A hurried the song, and the last rich note died away like in vindication of his innocence, he concluded
note was left on her dressing-table, stating that the sob of a tortured spirit, the singer bowed j by saying;
her betrothed could not brook the doubt of his her head upon the instrument and burst into a ! “Before signing the proces verbal, I earnestly
veracity' implied by her father’s inquiries con- ! storm of tears. It was the only time since her | request to be permitted to have an ^audience of
cerning him, and consequently she had yielded return home, save at the first interview with her
to his entreaties that she, at least, would prove father, that she had wept; and now the convul-
her entire trust in him by consenting to an im- i sive sobs shook her like the rush of a tempest,
mediate marriage. This was the curt explana- j The short, rapid drama of her life swept be-
tion she vouchsafed to her despairing and indig- j fore her. She saw herself again the idol of her
nant parents. Her father immediately pursued elegant home; first, in her wayward childhood,
■when her every caprice was law; then, during
her short sojourn at a fashionable boarding-
NO. IV—XORA ST. LEON.
Here, in my solitude, with the dusky shadows
pressing closer and closer to my side, the past
.... - - springs into vivid life again, and “the lost come
are only secure when they shut their eyes to : stealing back ”
everything save the necessaries of life. When ' 0 ver the low mantel of my chamber hangs a
the reins of fancy are once let loose, it is amus- small ovaI picture . The fra ^ e is cracke d and
tarnished, but out from the discolored setting,
beautiful even in the dim, uncertain firelight,
ing to note how thick and fast the desires crowd
in. Give a little girl a dollar and turn her loose
in a toy bazar, and she exemplifies the maturer
child starting out to satisfy all her wishes. The
safest way in both is to decide at home what is
the needed comfort or luxury, and wisely re
strain the wandering desires. I am directing all
these plain letters to my daughter, who is a
young girl of moderate income, and it is very
essential that she should understand her expecta
tions and fit herself accordingly. The fabulous
fortunes of these fast days are not in our con
templations—let the decided smiles and frowns
of the fickle goddess remain for the devotees
who constantly wait on her altar, and we, with
self-reliance and a firm trust in the right, will
try to learn the best and wisest way to encourage
our limited means, so as to reap therefrom the
greatest amount of happiness. I think it is a
great misfortune that girls are not entrusted
with more money and less credit. By this I
mean that a specified allowance is not given
them as early as possible, with the sole responsi
bility of its use for their individual wants for a
given time. I have heard it objected that this
plan would make a woman picayunish and mer
cenary. I think not. The uniform method of
allowing credit to a certain extent gives her no
idea of the worth of money. She buys just
what pleases her fancy until the credit is ex
hausted, and then she is wholly unfitted for the
self-denial of utter poverty. I think it highly
important that women shall justly understand
and appreciate their exact standing in the mar
ket to insure a wise disposition of tlieir expen di
smiles down on me the face of a fair woman —an
exquisite, girlish face, with such a wealth of
brightness in the smile Vhich half-parts the red
lips, such cloudless joy of youth shining in the
dark eyes, that slow tears gather in my own eyes
as I remember the storm of shame and sorrow
that swept over that haughty head and bowed it
to the very dust.
In the semi-obscurity of my chamber, she
stands by my side once again. The flickering
firelight plays lingerinly over her brown hair;
her eyes sparkle with their old merriment; the
old saucy smile curves her beautiful lips; her
white hands hold my own with their old cling
ing caress; it is Nora herself who stands by my
side in the twilight!
Oh, lost, erring Nora! Can it be that she is
dead? Could the quiet grave hold in its icy
arms one so full of restless life and fire and en
ergy? Can she have lain there pale and cold
and still so long?
But I forget that there is another Nora—the
same, yet not the same, who holds a place in the
gallery of memory. The other picture—-which I
would fain forget—is a wild, haggard, desperate
woman, with white, rigid face and eyes too hol
low and yet too brilliant for tears.
It was the old, old story. She was a spoilt,
impetuous child; loving and generous, but with
all the warmth and passion of the far South
slumbering in her rich blood, waiting to be
called into sudden and destructive life.
She had never in all her short, luxurious ex-
them to New Orleans, but only reached there in
I time to learn that they had just taked passage in
l a steamer bound for Havre. He returned home,
broken in spirits, to await the arrival of letters
j from Havana. They came all too soon.
Mr. De Leon was, as he had represented him-
I self, of high social position, descended from an
i old and formerly influential family; but he him-
! self was a most degenerate scion of a noble stock,
! and had already, in early manhood, acquired a
I very unenviable Cuban notoriety'. He had
ruined his father, and since then had supported j had before crowded her thoughts. She remem-
| himself by means known only to himself, but j bered still—and the remembrance still thrilled
: shrewdly suspected to be far other than reputa- 1 her—the glances of his dark, magnetic eyes—
ble, as he was said to be one of the most expert j the tones of his low, musical voice —the pressure
gamblers in Havana. * [ of his hand—poor, passionate, wayward child !—
Two, three, four years passed away, and Nora’s ! t read joyfully any earthly pathway, no matter
was still an interdicted name in her father’s h° w rough tor her delicate feet, if only the clasp
household. Soon after her marriage she had was still tender and close-the glance of those
written several letters imploring his and her I dark eyes what it once had been.
the First Consul. My name, my rank, my habits
of thought and the horror of the situation induce
me to hope that he will accede to my' demand.”
They deemed his request opportune and re
fused to grant it.
“He was so well aware of his approaching
fate,” says an eye-witness, “ that when they con
ducted him by torch-light down the broken and
If Ig'/e my daughter five, ten or twenty ist e nc e been thwarted. Her parents lavished
dallars, and tell her it is her due as a gift or a j up0 n their only child all that love could suggest
rp.wo.ri I nnrl T.pop.n nor fit of. if mnof «11 v»«,. I- 1 -, ^ , 0
and wealth procure; and her very willfulness
reward, and teach her that it must meet all her
demands for a specified time, what would be the
result? I think she would set about counting
what she most needed first, and then what she
particularly desired. She would apply all her
arithmetic to calculate wisely the cost, and she
would use all her ingenuity to economize and
make it go as far as possible. If she sets aside
a mite for some good cause, the feeling of self-
denial would sanctify the gift, and altogether a
practical life lesson is taught her. Any' extrav
agance and consequent privation would teach
her prudence, and she would grow up into a
was so bewitching, followed as it was by such
speedy contrition, that it was seldom curbed or
chided.
It was on the day of her graduation that the
shadow of her dark destiny first fell upon her.
She had liot taken a refcmrfc'ably’high btaiid in
any branch of study'—though creditably high in
all—save music. Here her success had been
marked.
She played, with a brilliancy and dash all her
own, the most difficult compositions of fine mas
ters, and sang exquisitely'. The closing piece
prac ica experience of the great saving lesson j 0 f the concert that ended the commencement ex-
o domestic economy, to regulate her expendi- j ercises at Madame R ’s select school, was a
tures within her means. W ith experience would j so lo by Nora—a German song—one of Schu-
come ri and charity and a cheerful sense of bert’s—so full of deep passion and exquisite
self-dependence. This is no innovation of an- j pa thos that its mournful melody haunts me yet.
o er s rig s. ith no practical experience, Nora sang it surpassingly well. So completely
most women are turned loose, as it were, with [ did s he throw her soul into the hopeless despair
unlimited credit, and then the complaint of her | Q f the composer, that the whole character of her
ex ravagance t unders from ruined fathers and | beauty seemed changed, so invested was it with
husbands like a great wail throughout the length j the melancholy sweetness of the song,
an lead ot the land. Great care is taken to j A thunder of applause—spontaneous, and ut-
eac our boys economy and financiering—why , terly in defiance of Madame R ’s prohibition
no give e girls a few practical lessons as they ] G f SU ch demonstrations—shook the large hall as
grow up? - - - - b
mother’s forgiveness; but, though the latter
yearned to pardon and receive back her once-
idolized child, Mr. Churchill sternly forbade all
intercourse, and the letters remained unan
swered.
For more than three years nothing had been
heard of the wanderer. Her mother was dead;
her father, prematurely old and infirm, dragged
on a careworn existence at his once beautiful but
now neglected home.
It was an evening in February—a sombre, des
olate evening, with nothing to remind one of
the warmth and beauty of that famed Southern
clime.
A chill rain was falling, and the dark waters
of the gulf tossed themselves restlessly. Nora’s
old home looked cheerless and uninviting in the
rapidly falling twilight, and its lonely master
paced slowly up and down his quiet parlor, with
face as gloomy as that of nature itself.
A servant entered hurriedly.
“There is a woman in the dining-room, sir,
who insists on seeing you. She is wet with the
rain, and has a very white, troubled face. Shall
I show her in ?”
His master started eagerly forward.
“At once! But stay—I will go to her.”
Crossing the hall, he entered the opposite
room abruptly.
A slight, frail-looking creature, habited in
well-worn black, stood by the fire, intently gaz
ing at a picture that hung over the mantel—the
'picture of a?yo;m£y'adiafftly-beautiful girl A. the
same picture that hangs opposite me now.
At the sound of the opening door, the woman
turned eagerly, hesitated a moment, then hur
ried forward and fell prostrate at the gentleman’s
feet, with a piercing cry of—
“Oh, father!”
He raised her, the feeble and prematurely-cld
man, in his trembling arms, and kissed with
passionate, quivering lips the poor, pale, ema
ciated face, which, while it clung to him, yet
seemed striving to hide itself on his shoulder.
Sobs that shook her delicate frame from head
to foot burst from her, as the old man held her
tenderly in his arms and strove to utter a wel
come home.
After awhile, she told him without reserve or
palliation her miserable story. She had gone first [
to France, where her husband, as she thought him
school, when still her wealth and beauty pro- ■ winding staircase which led to the fosse, where
cured her indulgence; then came her return the execution was to take place, he asked where
home, flattered and admired, the darling of her \ they were taking him, and pressing my arm,
exclusive circle, the very light of her parents’ said: “Are they going to leave me to perish in
lives, her every wish anticipated, and love and 1 a dungeon, or throw me into an aublifto?"
adulation the very breath of her daily existence, j When he reached the fatal spot he discovered,
Then’ followed her short, delirious dream of i through the darkness ot the night, a tile of men
love that swept before it every other hope and drawn up with deadly weapons, eagerly waiting
ambition—every desire and anticipation that for their victim.
' -- - - - . . - — There he stood, young, ambitious, fond of life,
innocent as the babe that prattles at its mother’s
knee, looking into the very grave that was
opened to receive him. The horror of his situ
ation, the stillness of the night, and the awful
ness of the scene, did not affect his manly forti
tude or shake his undaunted courage; but, with
form firm and erect, he stood ready to receive
the fatal blow.
His last thoughts, it seems, at that terrible
hour were not of self, but still lingered about
the pleasant chateau on the Rhine; for he spoke
of her from whom he bad so lately been torn,
and cutting off a lock of his hair, asked that it be
sent to her as a “token of love,” and his watch
to his parents as a “ memento of departed inno
cence;” then, turning to the soldiers, said: “I
die for my king and my country !”
The muskets were raised, the signal given,
and as the sharp report of the guns rang out on
But he had thrown her roughly from him; he
had won her only to destroy—to humble her
pride to the very dust, In faded, travel-worn
garments, the ghost of her former self, she had
found her way back to her father’s door, glad of
a shelter to hide her shame-stricken head.
Was there really such a thing as an eternal
sleep? She asked herself the question now.
Could she creep into some lonely spot, and rest
from these torturing memories? To sleep
through all the long, glowing summer days—
through the lonely, drear nights of the winter- j the still midnight air, Duke d’Engliien fell to
time, when the cold light of the moon would he : earth, pierced with seven balls, and quickly
on her grave like a silvery pall—through storm [ breathed his last.
and sunshine, while the seasons came and went, j “’Twas thus he died, without a priest to offi-
and flowers blossomed and faded; still quietly to ciate at his obsequies, without a requiem to waft
sleep—oh, that was what she craved ! Heaven [ his soul to its future abode, save a sad note, now
itself could offer her nothing so sweet as eternal i and then, from a hooting owl on the gloomy
sleep and rest. It came to her very soon. prison walls, but dressed and uncoffined, his re-
The flowers of the rich midsummer-time were 1 mains were thrown into the ditch as their final
in their prime and glory, when a small train ! resting-place. The officers retired from the
bore slowly through the garden the mortal re- j bloody spot, the gloomy night rolled away, and
mains of a most beautiful and idolized woman, j the sun rose that morning with his usual splen-
and made her a grave by the side of her mother. ! dor, and the world once more rejoiced in life
“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes.” j and light.”
The frail form is consigned to its last home;! Such was the sad late of that unfortunate
the once glorious eyes are locked in the deep : Prince. A man born apparently to fill the high-
slumber for which they yearned, the pale hands | est destinies and to be the ruler of kingdoms,
are clasped lightly over the pulseless heart, that j becomes at last the victim of a man who knew
shall know never again a throb of joy or anguish. i no bounds to his ambition ! Ah ! could we but
I absolutely deprecate the term “woman’s
rights ” in its modern acceptation, as do all true
mothers and wives; yet it is incontestably a wo
man’s high right and privilege to be educated
so as to make her a help and no hindrance in
the pursuit of wealth and happiness. We are
all, men and women, the slaves of the ruinous
system of universal credit. The question at
issue, extravagance, is not one to array men and
women against each other. It is an outside an
tagonist which threatens the destruction of the
home altar, and for its subjugation demands the
co-operation and united resistance of the whole
family. Let us, therefore, consult together and
devise some effectual artillery for the common
enemy. I only maintain that in order to help
and not hinder each other, it is necessary for us
every one to know exactly what we are doing
and how far we can with safety draw on the
common exchequer. It is presumed that our
husbands and sons are correct in all their trans
actions; at any rate, my daughter, we will not
discuss their claims to the position. We will
admit that many mothers and daughters are all
wrong in their extravagance, and I can but feel
that if we can educate our girls to more responsi-
the young cantatrice rose from the instrument,
and, slightly bowing her thanks, stood proudly
like a princess, while one of the professors
picked up the bouquets that were showered
around her.
It was immediately after this that a stranger—
a Cuban, who had a cousin in the school—re
quested an introduction to Nora. That meeting
(perhaps, more correctly, that song) sealed her
destiny. He was a man fitted to strike the fancy
of any young, romantic girl. There were all
the marked physical characteristics of his Span
ish race,—the raven-black hair and the soft,
liquid dark eyes, so proud and yet so tender.
His manners, as I found afterwards, were exceed
ingly winning; that is, in his conversation with
women. With men, they were haughty and ar
rogant in the extreme. This, however, only
made the deference he paid to woman more
marked and captivating. At first, I myself was
Nora is resting quietly at last.
But yet, as I sit here in the twilight, gazing at
that witching face that still smiles (town on me
through the shadows, I fancy that that is the
Nora I shall some day meet again; that the eyes
up there are shining like those pictured eyes —
the brow is as fair and unwritten—the lovely,
laughing lips are singing the melodies of that
unseen world, with all the freshness and joy of
that marvelous voice that is hushed on earth
forever.
[For The Sunny South.]
THE HIKE D’ENGHIEN.
A LEAF OF HISTORY' THAT READS LIKE
ROMANCE.
BY GRIMES.
Duke d’Engliien was born at Chantilly, August
2,1772. He was the son of the Duke de Bourbon,
then, made her write those prayerful appeals | and a descendant of the great Conde. Born with
for forgiveness that had never been answered, j high hopes and apparently the brightest career
Then, she had wandered with him from one | before him, admired and loved by all who knew
European capital to another, where he lived j him, he seemed destined to occupy the highest
chiefly by gaming. At first he had been kind to j station among his countrymen. “ Anoblecoun-
her—she thought still that he had once loved tenance, a commanding air and a dignified ex-
her—but at last, as his trust in her father’s for- ! pression bespoke, even to a passing observer, his
giveness and pecuniary assistance was destroyed, [illustrious descent, while the affability of his
he became cruelly neglectful; and in a furious manners and generosity of his character justly
passion consequent upon heavy losses at cards, [ endeared him to his numerous companions in
he had at length revealed to her the fatal secret j adversity.”
that she was not in reality his wife, as another [ His career was marked by no fete of extraordi-
woman had a prior claim to that title. | nary brilliancy. We think of what he might
see the future, with what different feelings would
we wend our course through this world; but
wisely for us, Providence has thought fit tfo shut
out the evils that hang over us, letting us profit
by the sad experience of the past.
Hardly were his remains placed beneath the
sod, when the mysterious person, supposed to
have been the Duke d’Enghien, was brought for
ward and recognized as one Pichegru, a conspir
ator, proving his innocence beyond a doubt.
Now mark the retribution that reached the
actors in the bloody scene; General Hullin be
came the hooted victim of remorse; and “having
spent,” to use his own words, “twenty years in
unavailing regrets, bowed down by misfortune,
blind and unhappy,” prayed for the grave to re
lieve him from suffering. Eleven years after,
Murat, another one of the actors in the bloody
tragedy, was seized and shot under a law made
by himself. Savary “lived to witness calami
ties to himself and country sufficient to draw
from his eyes tears of blood;” and Napoleon—
we all know how miserable were his last days,
spent as an exile “amid the melancholy main”
on the rock at St. Helena—during his solitude
on that lonely island, when he realized his utter
degradation, exclaimed, in the bitterness of
agony; “ Unhappy T ., what have you made
me do?”
America Always Ahead.
This was Nora’s brief story, interrupted as it
was by bursts of wild, hysterical weeping and
spells of a hollow, racking cough. This was the
ending of the brilliant promise of her girlhood—
the mournful wreck of a woman’s life.
Stanley seems likely to accomplish what Liv
ingstone lived and died for, in vain. He sails
Then she had fled from him; having left a have been, had the hand of fate spared him, not at^hTiwSJstonJTOnld*iS^ gaze^H*? has
baby-her only one-asleep in an Italian church- what he was : discovered that instead of being five lakes, as
y ard '. ....... . .. . When quite a boy, he fled from Pans with his Livingstone reported, it is but one, fed by ex-
father in exile. He distinguished himself in tensiv B e syste J 3 of water courses, dotted with
twenty battles as a sailor ot undaunted courage
and eminent skill, and won “golden opinions”
from his superiors in office, and the love and
admiration of his soldiers in arms.
charmed by the grace of his manner and fasci- ! It was heart-breaking to watch this swift decay [ Growing tired of the constant din of arms, he
nated by his handsome face. Later, I felt a dis- ! of this once superb creature. The very return ! retired to a quiet retreat at Ettenheim, a chateau
trust of him that deepened as I knew him better, i to the home w'here she had once reigned as i on the banks of the Rhine, thinking to spend a
There was something cruel about his mouth— supremely and haughtily as an imperious queen, j few years in peace and quiet,
something, at times, in the sudden flash of his i seemed to give a death-pang to her already j Here he first met the Princess Rohan, a lad)'
eyes like the gleam of sheathed lightning. But ; crushed heart, by presenting so vividly the con- [ of great distinction, who was at that time resid-
..... , ,, . . . , Nora, from the moment of her introduction, was trast between what she had been and what she j ing at the castle. She completely won the heart'f
bility and method in their expenditures, we ! infatuated. He was presented to her father be- now was. ' of this young Prince; and here it was, in company ° f ne " Spaper 6D terprlt ’ e - thus P rom - lses to do
might 'inaugurate the solution of this great ques- j fore they left Madame E ’s establishment to She would wander for hours restlessly through with the Princess de Kohan, he spent the sweet-
tion ot extravagance in dress so bewailed by the return to their far Florida home, and represented ; the long suite of silent rooms, gazing wistfully i est moments of his life. In that quiet retreat,
nation, ana even one generation would doubt- himself as a wealthy Cuban of Spanish extrac- | at the old familiar objects, touching, with a : with the lady of his love, he thought himself j
less find the mothers and daughters of the land tion, living near Havana, but spending most of caress exquisitely mournful, the very chairs and secure from every danger. With a spotless char- j
his time in European travel. ; sofas endeared by some sweet association of past ; acter, and innocent of every suspicion, he I
islands, and the banks inhabited by numerous
savage tribes. The king of one of them, which
is supposed to number two million natives, has
honored him with a naval review on the lake of
eighty-four canoes, manned by 2,500 men. He
has found the true source of the Nile, of whose
waters Livingstone never saw a drop, in the
river Shemeyn, thus interpreting and comple
ting the discoveries of Speke and Baker. This
bold American, whose expedition is the result
in two years as much for geographical knowledge
as the Scotch missionary did in his whole life.
models of economy in their systematic spend
ings. Women are not willfully malicious in
trying to ruin their husbands and fathers. Their
extravagant habits are the natural outgrowth of
unlimited credit on the one hand, and on the
other, their exclusion from the practical transac- 1 request that he might be allowed to pay his re-
tions of life. Many women who spend thou- , speets to the young girl at her own home,
sands on their own adornment, threatening ~ - - - - -
yearly to engulf their men in ruin, would be
economical, thrifty housewives if they were
allowed the privilege of keeping and settling
strictly their own accounts. There is a real
pleasure in managing economically, to which
women are not strangers.
Again, I have heard it alleged that it is too
masterly for a man to restrict his wife or daugh- brief evenim
to an allowance; too much like paying wages to 1
Reading Aloud.
His story was plausibly told, and was further happiness. Especially would she linger, as if : thought not, nor knew, of the approaching evil. I t , rendincr «1 muf if it is done with intelligence
corroborated by the accounts given of him by , in a dream, before the picture of herself previ- [ He was not allowed to enjoy himself in peace b ‘ r,erson° who Possesses a well-trained voice
his cousin, a young Creole girl being educated ously alluded to. It had been painted imme- and tranquillity long. The hand of adverse fate , banner 1 • ■ •
at Nora’s school—and Nora’s father acceded to his diately after her return from school, and repre- was already lifted, and only waiting for the sig- It ig tlie resource of all others for winter even
senting her in the superb flush of her joyous [ nal to crush the innocent Prince. Napoleon [ in in the co „ n try, around the evening lamp,
youth. She would gaze with those hollow, uho Matched with jealousy every movement oi w | ile the mother £ tLe dangbt er works her
haggard, yet still bnllian eyes, into the laugh- he house ot Bourbons, only wanted the most tt nettin or embroidery, or uses her talent
ing eyes of the picture, that seemed mocking trivial excuse to put to death this unfortunate 1 r J 9
’ ’ ' —’ ’ Prince. He received intelligence that a myste
rious person was present at the meetings of the
Royalist chiefs, and was treated with the greatest
deference and respect. Ready to catch at the J
slightest thing, he at once supposed this myste-
rious person to be the Duke d’Enghien. He
“Business,” he said, “would necessitate his vis
iting Florida for a short time during the coming
winter. ”
Perhaps this permission given a stranger to
visit his only child at her home was regretted
her own despair, until the wistful, hungry
yearning that crept over her face would drive
her father from the room. Only once, did she
as soon as uttered; but at least it was beyond | touch the beloved piano. It was an evening in
recall, and Nora departed on her Southern jour- May, some months after her return. The full
ney, haunted by a face that, seen only for one ; glory of the Southern moon had bathed her old
brief evening, had already stamped itself upon home in a light that was like the witchery of a communicated his suspicion to his officers, and
her ardent fancy with an impression that was to dream. The air was heavy with the perfume of without further proof ordered his arrest. The
a hired servant. In truth, it is more masterly for be lasting as her own existence. orange blossoms, and the rich, languid breath ' order for his arrest, which was given to a secret
him to be continually prohibiting this and that 1 In the depth of the short Floridian winter, \ of magnolias. The large, glass doors that led officer, was carried into execution on the night
purchase, and always complaining at bills as the handsome traveler presented himself at Mr. from the drawing-room into the garden stood of March 15, 1804, by arresting him whilst sleep-
they fall due. I cannot condemn the restricted Churchill’s home, where he contrived, by his wide open; and the soft, mellow light of the ing in his bed at the chateau. Without any
to entertain, in the way we have indicated, the
rest of the family.
It is often the only way in which a busy mother
1 can learn what is going on in the world; and it
! helps to keep her mind active, and her thoughts
busied about something outside the wearying
routine of her own family concerns. There is
nothing so cheap, no aids to education so impor
tant, no instrumentalities which assist so largely
in making a home bright and pleasant, as books,
newspapers, and magazines.
I cannot condemn the restricted Churchill’s home, where he contrived, by his wide open; and the soft, mellow “light of the ing in his bed at the chateau, wunout any; The owner of a pair of bright eves assures us
injunctions to most wives, for the men them- aristocratic bearing and polished manners,* to so moon fell in long rays across the floor, and re- knowledge of the charges brought against him, tbat . tbe pre ttiest compliment she ever received
selves are the victims of the expansive credit ingratiate himself as to receive an invitation to vealed every object in the apartment almost with the young Prince arose and prepared to accom- j came f rolb a cb j] d Q f f our years. The little
system, which hems them into a narrow lodging ; prolong his visit some weeks. the distinctness of noonday. Nora paced the pany the officer. ' f e jj 0 ^ v after looking intentlv at lier for a mo
on the side of a volcano. I am only comparing 1 In everything connected with this man, an floor with rapid, irregular steps. To-night the When the intelligence reached Paris, Joseph- me nt inquired naively “Are your eyes new
the two methods of giving either a limited unhappy fate seemed to follow the unfortunate spirit of the pastehud full possession of her. ine, believing him to be innocent, interceded one s?” * ’ ^
amount of money or a limited degree of credit. ; girl. Previous to his coming, her father had The ghost of her lost girlhood seemed walking with tears and entreaties for his deliverance, but 1 ’
It cannot be more degrading to a woman to re- P repared himself to receive him with chill cour- by her side, mocking her with its eternal all to no purpose. He was conducted from Paris \ Kind words are the brightest flowers of earth’s
ceive one than the other. She is in both cases tesy that would send him speedily on his jour- “Never again—oh ! never, never again !’’ to Vincennes, an ancient castle, used as a State existence; use them, and especially around the
dependent, and under the present loose arrange- ney, as he had had time to reflect on the folly of She lived over now the triumph of her gradu- j prison. When they reached the castle, it was ' fireside. They are jewels beyond price, and
ment the dependence is often most humiliating 1 his course in proffering hospitality to one of ation. She remembered how her own magnifi- dark, and the shadow of night seemed to lend powerful to heal the wounded heart and make
to her nice sensibilities, and the obligation is too whose antecedents he was utterly ignorant. But cent beauty, as she stood arrayed in the elegant additional gloom to the already gloomy prison, the weighed-down spirit glad.
often held less sacred. suspicion was lulled to sleep when the stranger [ commencement dress, surprised even herself, He was soon ushered within its gloomy walls ; ♦-»•»
i came; and the father’s pride in his beautiful [ as with a sudden, delicious sense of power; and and safely lodged in a room already prepared ! If you know anything that will make a broth-
When angry, count ten before you speak; if * child was flattered by the evident admiration ■ the brilliant lights, the bowers, the music of the for his reception. Almost dying with hunger ; er's heart glad, run quick and tell it; but
7very angrv, count a hundred. : she aroused in their distinguished looking gvu st. , concert hall— ah ! above all, the thunder of ap-[ and cold, and worn out with a fatiguing journey, j is something that will cause a sigh, suppre