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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