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gry, unfortunate prisoner, and, only quaffing a small flask of wine, be was quite ready to fol low when, after a short while, the man returned and told him St. Croix was ready to see him. At the mention of St. Croix, Opede turned j his face toward the speaker, exclaiming: “Ah! St. Croix! I understand all now.” And with a groan, he turned his face lrom the ■ crowd. Alphonse paused and looked from the poor ; captive to the robber for some sign of mercy; j but the bandit’s face was as hard as flint as he ! proceeded to lead the way to the couch of the j sick chief, situated in the remote recess. He j then retired, leaving Alphonse alone with the ! brigand. “Who are you, and what do you want?” faint ly asked the chief, gazing at the old man with I great black eyes, which gleamed in their hollow sockets. “I am Alphonse, the brother of that Margery ] whom you treacherously stole from me and | brought to an early grave.” “Margery’s brother! O, yes; and you have j come to heap your curses on my head.” “No; my sister’s wrongs must wait for heav en’s vengeance. She is beyond reproach, and j my poor heart is a sepulchre. Let her rest in | peace.” “Yes, let her rest in peace. She was the only [ being in the world whom I truly loved, and she j loved me. Let her rest in peace; I shall soon i rest with her. But what brings you here, if not to curse me?” “I come to ask you for justice to the living. Will you grant it?’’ “Of whom do you speak?” “ Your victims have doubtless been many, and you may well ask of which one I speak. There is one man—my friend—poor Msrgery’s friend—whose life you have blighted with mys tery. Clear up this life-long ignorance, and your dying hour will be happier for it. It is of Henri St. Clair I come to speak.” “ What of him ? I thought I would carry that secret to my grave with me, and perfect my vengeance in that quarter. What do you know of him?” “I know enough to make me desire to know more. I believe that your account of him is all false; and as your soul is soon to stand before God who gave it, I entreat you for Margery’s sake, who loved the boy, to clear up the mystery of his birth.” As Alphonse concluded he rose and stood over the dying man. Julien’s wan face paled, and his trembling limbs shivered. “ I will tell you,” he muttered. “ Bend low— lower still,” and the dying man whispered a name that made Alphonse start with surprise. “Are you telling me the truth?” he asked. “ The truth, as God is my witness. I hated his father, and I meant to teach him to be as black-hearted as sin could make him, and then take him to his father a miserable wreck to poi son his old age with regret; but for Margery’s sake I changed my plans, and concluded to keep h’m always in ignorance of his parentage. Father Pierre taught him, and he became a no ble man, tit for a nobleman's son.” “ I have only one other request, Julien. You will certainly die easier if you will complete this work and give me the substance of this story under your hand and seal.” “ Oh ! I am too weak to write—but here comes Cordez.” “Captain, you are too weak to talk any more just now. Take this soothing draught and wait until you feel better.” “I cannot last long, Cordez. I wish to give this man a written account of one of my early misdeeds. You remember the lad Henri, who was with us twenty years ago, and who went from us to Front Abbey ? It is of him I wish to testify. Get writing materials, and come and write at my dictation. ’.’ Cordez was himself curiou.i to know the solu tion of this mystery, and h»f ened to obey. For (For tbe Sunny South.) AND THIS IS FAME. ! ■'Sv. 1 two, so well suited in every respect, loving each sense of duty to your family, should tell you can r am 0Dce thoroughly launched ou other. Then her thoughts reverted to another—to result in no good to either party.” I am not fearful of the result I BY MBS. AMELIA PUBDY. Write for the present ace, plant wisdom’s words, Teach if thy .Maker gifts thee, and take care To sift and weigh. Shun error—waken thought, Dull thought that will not see the floweret* fair Growing on life’s green hill-side—go thy way. And show the buds and blossoms else not seen; Write for the masses—help the clouded life To in the desert wastes discern some green. And if thy fine, strong nature strengthens man As mountain air the feehle—this will be Reward enough. Time buries our best works In the dnst of ages—immortality. So-called, is bnt to live tmme time beyond The lesser planets, pigmies if ye will. But the giants too, will siumoer all forgot, .Even they, whose light was set upon a hill. Who wrote the Book of Job ? Euriprides, -Eschuylus and others thrilled their world, Homer, the blind old beggar sang his songs One thousand years before Christ's flag unfurled. Who is familiar with the tragedies That threw these poets, rocket-like, on high, To blaze awhile? And Shakspeare, too, will share In time, the fate of all beneath the sky; Give place to later poets. When our views the deep eyes and earnest voice that had told her how well she was beloved—then to the dark face, with its glittering black eyes that had appeared and broken the spell. “Oh, that man!” she exclaimed aloud. “He will yet work me evil; I feel it as a constant pre And why not father? answered the young the measure of your ambition forme and make up to you for the unhappy cloud I momentarily cast over your hopes-'. But tlierel one thing I desire of you,” he a dded i pi a hesitat- man with his eyes steadily fixed on his father’s face. “For reasons you have long known,” Mr. Gor don patiently replied. “You know my earnest ... desire for you to marry the daughter of my old j -Speak freely. I am prepared for anltiiini uow,” sentiment. He is a man whom opposition only triend, and the great benefit that will result to j rep i; ed M r , Gordon quietly •£» influences and stirs up to renewed efforts in any i you from the union, giving you a proud position J esire v ' oaT sa ’ notioa t 'o my address^ to Miss pursuit determined on by his mighty will. I be- that any man might covet and opening before you Sefton ” lieve him to be subtle, scheming and resolute in a wide vista through which you can pass easily to | - Y ou have cast off mv authorin' and my refusal concocting and executing plans for his own grati- celebrity and renown, besides fulfilling the prom- ... - fication and interest. No one here shares my feel- ise I made my friend when you and Evelyn were ings of distrust toward him, and once I did not children. You are aware that he has been in the fear him as I do now, though when I first knew Senate and would take pleasure in assisting his him there was a vague fe ling of distrust in my son-in-law to the position he once so ably filled.” heart, which took no definite form and which I “And do you b lieve, father, that I would wed could not fathom. Try as I will, 1 cannot rid my- j his daughter from motives of mere personal ambi- would not alter your determination, anil why do you ask my consent ?” “Because it would relieve my mifid f weight of sorrow that my first act of dfeo to my father would cause me ” Mr. Gordon looked into his son’s pfead 4 ■ ...... - .in silence for a few moments, sighe self of these misgivings, and yet in what way he , tion ? Offer her a heart in which not one pulse spoke: can possibly harm me I cannot even conjecture. I j throbs with love for her. Do you believe I would ! - You j iave destroyed the dearest wishiif i | do believe I am getting morbid and fanciful, and I j sully my conscience by making a victim of a young j mv boy, but I cannot withhold my convent- I intend to try to overcome such foolish thoughts.” girl, merely to insure my own success in life, j j t w ill make you happy:” X *■' In the intensity of perturbed thought her work Sacrifice principle to gain the poor, fading laurel ! “Thanks, dear father said the younf iaajt#ttf‘si»ig>, ! had fallen from her hand, and for a few moments j chaplet of fame that would burn my brow and eat I and g ras pi a g his hand while his fine face lighted kj | had lain idly in her lap, but she again resumed it | into my heart with an ever living remorse. I am ! up w j tb a „i ow 0 f happiness. Thank you Are obsolete, so strange to times remote, and worked away with zeal until the gay party re- j only surprised that my father, whose keen sense relief von H-lvo .riven mo”' ’ They will not interest; habit, thought, all changed. . ,, . ,, > -j „ .1 , . reiiei yuu nave given me. Custom and living. -He was great, and wrote j tnrned to t-inner. She then laid aside the garment ot justice has ever been so strongly arrayed against j He immediately left the room and went Ati i to complete some other time, and went down-stairs j selfishmess or wrong, should even hint such mo- j search of Kate (TO BE CONTINUED.) "™‘ i great, Noblv and wisely for the men now dust,” Late critics shall declare. And this is fame! Write for the day and hour and feel for all. Dismiss at once, all hopes of endless name. Nobly and strongly wage eternal war Against ignoble, low and petty things. Teach the chrysalis to rise and, fly Up from the soil, with stainless golden wings; Comfort the weak, draw in the erring ones, Teach man to feel that he alone is good Who knows the wrong and walks on like a god, Who has its siren voice through life withstood. For The Sunny South.] in time to join them at the hospitable board. CHAPTER XII. The bright days passed by to the party in Lau rens Hall in a round of excursions, on horseback, on foot and in buggies—in games of croquet in the late, lovely afternoons, and in social talk, music, quiet dancing, recitations, tableaux, etc., in the dusky, perfumed evenings. Outwardly all was gay ; but unrest, disappointment, jealousy and tor- LOVED AND LOST; —OR,- The Valley Mystery, i tives,” replied the young man. with an indignant [ burst of feeling, not in keeping with his usual | mild, respectful manner to his father. “1 do not think it is necessary to work yourself ; into a passion until you have cause for such strong I emotion,” Mr. Gordon answered, feeling annoyed ! at the rebuke he had just received. “You know | that Evelyn's father aud myself have been since | our boyhood like brothers, and from motives of j personal friendship as much as to secure the good | turing uncertainty lurked in more than one heart, j our children each desire the union I will not The first break in the pleasant party was occa- | P reten J to say that I am free from ambitious mo- I sioned by the departure of Frank Merton. A tel- ^ ves ’ ^ u ^ * 8 for your sake, and I trust that you egram called him home, and the evening before his I W1 D yet realize my dreams of you.” departure he offered his hand to Kate, and met a I ^ is best, father, that we understand each other BY MRS. M. B. NEWMAN. CHAPTER XI. “ Brother Fred, do beg mamma and Miss Sefton to let us off from saying lessons,” said Willie and Jessie early one morning, running to their brother as he came from his room. “ Everybody is nere, having such a good time and so much fun we can’t study; and, besides, we always have vacation in August.” “ Well, really, I think it is time you were allowed to lay aside your books, for a season at least, and I will see if I can possibly get you set free,” he answered, smiling encouragingly into the bright faces lifted to his. “ Yonder comes Miss Sefton now from her room ; do come, brother,” said Jessie, breathlessly catch ing his hand and pulling him in the hall to meet Kate. “ Oh, you little tempest,” said Fred, laughing, as they passed immediately in front of Kate, and Jessie relinquished her hold. “ Miss Sefton, these children have made me their advocate, and have drawn me here to beg you to allow them a few weeks’ recreation this warm weather. 1 do think it is a waste of the golden hours, in your case as well as theirs, to be always immured in the school-room.” “ But remember we are not always confined there. On the contrary, we have all the afternoon of each day in which to give full vent to our spir its,” said Kate, smiling; “but I think they have been such good children they deserve release from their lessons fer a season, and I will offer no objec tion if their mother consents.” “ Oh ! Miss Sefton, mamma never objects to any thing you say is best for us, and I know she will say yes,” running off in search of his mother, while Jessie hugged her teacher’s pretty hand, ex claiming : “ Thank you—you dear, good teaeher. I do kind but firm refusal. “ Believe me, this gives me inexpressible pain,” she said with tears in her eyes. “ I hope, I be lieve you will soon forget this unhappy attach ment and love one every way worthy—one who already loves you; I could name her, but will not.” When Frank had waved his adieu to the group assembled in the piazza to see him drive away, Kate went up stairs, and passing by May’s room, saw the poor girl sitting near the window, from which she had watched Frank’s departure with tears stream ing down her cheeks. When Kate came to her side, she threw her arms around her, and burying her face in her friend’s bosom, sobbed : “ He is gone—he does not care for me, and I— I love him so.” Kate soothed her as she would have soothed a child, and stroking back the flossy curls, said : “ He will love you, darling—he cannot help it.” “Hush, Kate! Do you think I am blind? Have I not seen all along that he loved you?” “ Few young men marry the women they first admire. I have reason to think Frank Merton’s fancy for me is a youthful effervescence. He knows that it is useless, and will dismiss it from his mind, and give his love, I hope and believe, where it will meet with the return it deserves. Already he admires and esteems you heartily. He has promised your brother to return shortly, and thoroughly; 1 know your hopes and plans for my future, but, dear father, in a matter of such mo mentous interest to me, where my happiness for _ life is at stake, excuse me if I am compelled to j During this process there is evolved an immense SCIENTIPIC SENSATIONS Death in Snow—Evils of Rubber Shoes.y- The learned and eminent scientist. Father Sec-, chi, of Rome, has lately made an important dis covery, which has a direct bearing on human; life and health. A series of nice experiments Si has proved to him that the immense quantity of electricity evolved in the crystalization of snow is the cause of the dangerous epidemics that prevail during the period when snow lies on the ground and just after its melting. Snow, from the moment almost that it alights on the ground, begins to undergo changes by chemical action, which commonly end in a more solid crystali- zation, sometimes assuming beautiful forms, consider myself the best judge in my choice of a companion,” Fred answered, respectfully, yet firmly. “You do not mean to say that you have nc re spect for my wishes, and decline marrying the young lady in question ?” inquired Mr. Gordon, angrily. “In all things else, father, your will is my law, but I can never marry a woman—not even at your bidding, for whom I can entertain neither love nor respect.” “What are your objections?” briefly inquired Mr. Gordon, in growing wrath. “They are almost too mimerous to mention,” said Fred, with a faint smile, “but the first and strongest is—I do not love her.” “All romantic nonsense, that can be overcome if you make effort. Name your other reasons,” said the father,sternly. “The next are—but I would rather not express my opinion of a lady so freely,” Fred replied as though the subject was a painful one. “Name them,” briefly commanded Mr. Gordon. Well then, she is selfish, exacting, high tem- hope you will marry brother Fred, and be our gov- j and not even Evelyn’s shsAs of malice—intended ! study her character as I have, you will soon be con- two hours the robber chie^j. as engaged telling the stcji of his life, 3etwe. Bfcparoxysms of pain, while, vne scribe wrote ailshis dictation. Al phonse listened attentively and silently until at length Cordez said: “ He is too exhausted now to speak another word. I will give him something to make him sleep, and I will watch by him myself, and if he desires to say anything else, I will transcribe it. In tbe meanwhile, you go and sleep your self.” Alphonse traversed the cavern to the fire, where he was shown a comfortable pallet, and notwithstanding the exciting incidents of the ^ > & j day and his weird surroundings, tired nature i render a t w ill, as 1 know from experience, and if j could purchase and the seeds of selfishness sown asserted her rights, and the light of the mor- j yjj gs g e ft on has given hers to another, it is useless j in childhood by over-indulgence yielded a plenti- row s sun might have been seen on he moun - j mg tr y j 0 w j n her i 0 y e> though it is the ! ful harvest of evil in her womanhood. Her proud, ain tops when he aw o >.e. . n unusua s lr in j dearegt boon I would ask on earth,” he added in a ! passionate nature could not brook rivalry in any- the cavern seemed o aie is ur e lm, a whisper, while his eyes rested worshipingly upon j thing,but to feel that she was scorned and rejected as soon as fully aroused, arrested his attention. J blushing> downcast face. - ’ * ' (TO BE CONTINUED.) pered, and utterly devoid of principle. During the six weeks I have been so intimately associated with I predict that in six months he will love you, dear j her, I have studied her character and have made May, far more truly than he has ever loved be- j an earnest effort, for your sake, father, to trace out lore.” i all the good in her nature and love her. Bnt my “ Do you think so ?” she said, looking up in her ! efforts have been fruitless. The little good that is earnest, child-like way. “ What a sweet comforter I inherent in her nature has been so warped by evil you are, dear Kate. I hope you may prove a true I that it is almost impossible to separate the ‘wheat prophet.” \ from the tares,’ and believe me I would suffer any- At first, a small number of the guests, were in- j thing rather than wed with her I cannot even re clined to consider Kate Sefton an inferior, from j spect. the simple fact that she wa^ a governejss, but her “Your imagination is certainly at fault for I have | recen t sudden deaths of Eph Horn,'’ the « well-bred affable manners, rind above all the kind j ween no such evil tastes in her disposition.” I s f re p am j Xj UC iii e Western, the talented ac &De and affectionate way she wi*>trt4'ted bytthe family ! “Indeed, I a n painfully conscious of the truth ! W ere directly attributable’ to exposure t-, 8e( i of their host, inspired their^'fspect. and confidence; j of my assertion, and if you will take the trouble to discharge of negative electricity from crystalftjy quantity of electricity, as was recently proved by some exquisite experiments of Mr. Full- brook, the well-known writer on meteorology. He observed that after a fall of snow in the neighborhood of Edinburgh, that the flakes of soot which were deposited on the surface and remained there exposed, disappeared after some time, leaving a cavity the bottom of which was visible and clean. Crystalization had taken place, followed by an active evolution of elec tricity, and exidation of the carbon. This elec trically-induced chemical action exercises a po tent influence on our bodies, and consequently on the public health and bills of mortality. ' Hitherto, little has been known of this excite- r ment except from its effects. Delicate people instinctively fear the winter, and people with weak lungs have an indefinable aversion to snow. The cause now admits of explanation. The hu man body is an electrical or galvanic combina tion, and the normal or abnormal excitement of its currents is the principle of vitality or t’^ cause of dissolution, The lungs f x oxogen an^ are positive, while the skin fixes an equivaleL’ > and is negative. When the feet are subjected*' a the action of snow in active crystallization, D Jg0 ative electricity superabounds, and unless constitution is vigorous, diseases like pneu J nia and diphtheria are induced. The actio' ou _ the heart arises from the proximity of the tive arterial blood to the negative venous b: nn „ When the skin is exposed to the action of i s in the active form in which it exists oc ffave streets, the excess of negative eleetricit^g on . ranges the functions of the heart, inducin^ 1( j Ke plexy, heart’ disease, and other dangeroU' 0U Qg — 1 - j; -'~ It is not at all unlikely thi 5 fatal maladies. eaness always.’ “ Oh, Jessie !” Kate exclaimed with crimson cheeks. “ She loves Mr Merton best, Jessie, and will not have me,” said Fred in a low tone, looking into Kate’s face to see the effect, of his words. “ Bnt. you are lots handsomer than he is, and if I was you I would ask her,” said the child, confi dently, not noticing tho distress she was causing. to wound and humiliate ht-r—had any power to I viuced that I have not exaggerated in the least, shake their esteem. If Kate felt any sting from | No, father, alone and unaided by Evelyn’s wealth her envenomed shafts her contempt for such a na. I and family influence, I will climb the ladder to ture was too profound to allow any retort, and as ! fame, and when I reach its highest round and cast she always treated Evelyn with cool courtesy, the ! my spirit’s thought backward and take a retro- girl’s attempts to detract from her character only j spective view of my past career, I desire to feel I revealed their different natures in glaring contrast. ; have readied the lofty eminence by my own per- Evelyn had been the spoiled and petted darling I severance and unaided effort; and have no bitter of a doting father and mother, who humored her : memories to mock me, and no polluted conscience | snow. A not unnatural response—and probability a correct one—to this hypdthc might be: “Both of the deceased wore rubbe? This, unfortunately, is but an intensification the mischief. If M. Du Court and JJr. brook be correct, rubbers are th.vprolific soun of disease rather than preventives. They a most active conductors of electricity, and'” ji direct cause of throat and pulmonary complai-JSs' when used among snow in certain conditions,. The heart cannot be controlled and made to sur- j every caprice, and granted every wish that wealth i to upbraid me for committing the sacreligious sin Ibis fact has been recognized without being aj- She could not utter one ward, nor would not, if she could, have said aught to encourag him, know ing the wishes of the family in regard to his marry ing Evelyn. He was again about to speak when Mr. Fontaine The Joys and Ills of Other Days. The world moves. Social customs change with ^ ^ each generation. Ib ft t g.iudiness which limited a pp eare q U p on the scene, looking perfectly self- tlie dissolute reign ot Louis t le our een wou t , p 0ssesse( j j an q apparently unconscious of anything be wholly out ot place in ranee o i ay. rim o unusual in the manner of those who were just then Marshal-President a.c.Mahon _rule»a new’ raoeof j maklng guch fta intere8ting labIeau> ‘Good morning, Miss Sefton,” he said. “I see ‘Pray, then, have you any intention of marry- by the man who from childhood she was taught to j ing at all, if I may take the liberty to inquire?” consider all her own. her future husband theduti- \ “Yes, father, if the girl of my choice will havi ful subject of her sovereign will, and supplanted in ! me.” of marrying merely from ambitious motives.” 1 counted tor. After walking in the snow with Mr. Gordon looked at his noble son in silence j rubbers, the body seems unaccountably exhaust- love and pride striving for mastery. At length he j ? ( ^’,^®. an , i ^ e ?.^. ave ,, a P' un > tfiere are pains , I , ° ° ! it* r no Itm no /iil+inn lr r/\ Imi.ifn Knr titVimn nnn*v> spoke in a milder tone : his affections by a poor teacher, whom she, in the conscious pride of wealth, did not consider her equal, was more than she could endure, and her proud heart swelled almost to bursting with anger and jealousy. Sometimes when Fred Gordon, for getful of the presence of others stood with his eyes fixed on Kate with such a world of tenderness in their depths, revealing how inexpressibly dear she was to him, the girl’s black eyes fairly scintillated with rage, and it wat with difficulty she suppressed the powerful emotions that swayed her. But her And that girl is my governess,” asserted Mr. Gordon, in a slightly sneering tone. “Yes, father. She has been an inmate of your house for several months, and you have discovered no flaw in her almost perfect character. She is re fined, cultivated amiable and intelligent, and would walk through the halls of fashion with the ease and people. Even the customs of a hundred years ago, which Knickerbocker and armed Lontiuental | • , » , . .. , q 1 . . „ , you rise with the sun—and you, also* Mr. Gordon, thought the »est suite 0 e gcaius o as e an wiiat is ihe programme for to-day’s enjoyment ?’’ social comtort, would be awkward and unoecom.ng : £ think fa £ ith 0 ne accord have determined to us as the coc 'ei a , nee reec les an ^ t 0 scale the mountains, ascending as high as it is i imcust punc uci ;«uiaici>uaiuomj wuumuu 0ure , uui. oi» c » » heavy lappels which were so muc i in as ion. an p 0sa ible with safety, amd returning in time for { and she flirted with Mr. Howe, and was apparent- : who may have sprung from the very lowest family give to their wearers in paintings a queer, a mos jj nnerj ” sa jq Fred, feeling no particular pleasure j ly the gayest at the Hall. By adroit insinuations I and is not able to buy even a wedding dress suita- comical appearance. 1 eie weie goo n “> e s ln j at tbe interruption. j she finally opened Mr. Gordon’s eyes to a kuowl- j ble for my son s wife,” replied Mr. Gordon, in dis- the olden days, and many a chronicler ells of them. | After break £ lgt the ladies> dressed ln suits less ! edge of the state of his son’s affections. He had | gust. \\ e may lament t a some o t lem wi ne\ er come ^ jj ke jy tQ ent > umb er them than the long skirts worn | been so sure Kate would marry young Merton, his | “Then 1 will gladly supply her with one,” an- again. Am yet it is l e to o so, or c ange is j ^ house, with hats and gloves, were all ready i former fears had ceased to torment him, and as i swered Fred, smiling hopefully. “But forgive me to scale the mountains, that rose in almost inac- breu did not pay her any more attention than father, if # L give you pain in refusing the girl courtesy demanded, he felt perfectly secure in re- you have chosen. Study her character and com- gard to his son. Evelyn’s hints troubled him and pare her with Miss Sefton and I am confident you in the limbs difficult to locate, but which seem to be in the marrow of the bone. In a less acute but more potent and diffused form, a dull pain extends along the vertebra, its centre of incon venience, if the phrase be permitted, being at the “ small of the back.” These pains are not experienced when wearing rubbers among new ly fallen snow. It is only after crystalization has takeD place. There are several instances on record where this remarkable effect has been noted, but until the discovery of Father Secchi, its source had not even been suspected. A fall of beautiful snow takes place. Every street and grace of one ‘to the manor born.’ lour own sense I avenue is clothed in winter's soft, immaculate of justice will make you acknowledge the truth of j garment. Ladies wreathed in smiles go out all I say in her favor.” | shopping before ten o’clock in the morning, and I do not deny that her graces of mind and per- I return for lunch with the glow of health on the law written in great black letters on everything human. New times, the result of progress, are ahead of the days gone by. Nevertheless, some thing spicy is always in order about OLl> TIMES. Breakfast at six. and dinner at one, Supper at seven and chamber at ton; Those were the times when something was done; Those were the days of women and men. Then when they all rose early Men grew rosy and burly, And women were comely to see— Ah: those were the times for me! Digging and plowing and chopping, the men. Spinning and weaving and churning, the wives— Something was done for the country then, People then wasted no aimless lives. Evermore toil beginning, Nevermore easiness winning. All busy as bees could be— Ah! those were the times for me ! Nobody then in the land was poor, Nobody then very rich, you may judge: Every man was a laboring boor. Every woman a spiritless drndve. Sisyphus-like their endeavor, Roll the stone up forever. And glad when in death they were free— Ah ! those were the times for me! Working all day to get something to eat, Working all oav to get something to wear; Aching in bodv and weary of teet. Life but a burden of labor and care. Never a moment enjoying. Never with happiness toying. And never from drudgery free— Ah I those were the times for me I Slow but not easy, the world in that day Moved on its axis deficient in oil; None ot it* people had leisure for play. Life was a round of continual toil. Very queer time* were the old times, Slow times and hard times and cold times; Back in the past let them be— The new times and rare times for me. —Avert Drvccss, LL. D. The electoral vote will not be counted untig ) Wednesday, February 14, 1877. to scale the mountains, ascending as high as it is i intense pride helped her to conceal her feelings, ) son are sufficiently commendable, but she is a girl I their cheeks and features wreathed in smiles. “Oh! it’s delightful out!” cries a Fifth avenue belle. “ It’s awful nice !” cries a Third avenue demoiselle, as she eats with an appetite. Influ- After breakfast the ladies, dressed in suits less ! edge of the state of his son’s affections. He had | gust. j enced by their respective representations, other _ ------ - members of the two families don their rubbers and proceed to pedestrianate. Meantime, a chemical change has come over “beautiful snow.” Crystalization has eventuated. The afternoon pedestrians discover languor, weariness and vexation of spirit, and return home moody, querulous and half prostrated with “cold and fa tigue,” as they explain it, but in reality because their so-called comfortable rubbers acted as electric helices, intensifying coils for the evolv ing negative electricity, and heart, lungs and muscles suffer in consequence. ! cessible grandeur just back of Laurens Hall. Kate was not going, but -tood iu the hall to see I the party start. ; May was the last to come from her room, look- j ing as fresh and sweet as a rosebud, a jaunty hat | tied over her golden hair, and her clear, blue eyes I as eager as a happy child's. “\ou do not mean to say that you are not go- I ing, Kate?” she cried. he determined to have a serious talk with Fred as soon as convenient. Evelyn’s father and Mr. Gordon had been warm friends in their boyhood, which strengthened as they grew older and they made an agreement to cement their friendship and unite their property by the marriage of their two oldest children, and Yes, May, I promised Aunt Pliebe I would j as Evelyn was an only child and heiress to a large make a dress for one of her children. I will stay j at home this morning and make it.” j “ My dear, good girl; you are always working, and always sacrificing your own pleasure for oth ers. If you will only go with us I will help you make the dress myself when we get back ; though fortune, an alliance with her would make Fred one of the wealthiest men in the State, besides giving him a position of such influence that the road to fame would be rendered easy. Mr. Gordon had unbounded faith in his son’s talent, and he firmly believed if he would only choose politics for his will be satisfied that I have chosen love and hap piness rather than ambition and Evelyn.” Mr. Gordon pondered for some time on Fred’s words and at last said sadly : “Evelyn appears to me in every respect like other young girls, only a little spirited and wilful, aud I must think you have judged her too harshly. It was for your sake I desired the union with the daughter of my old friend, and for the sake of ce menting a friendship that has endured through all the changes and trials of our lives that are passing into the winterof oldage. My own son has severed the tie that bound us in one common purpose and “Whiter than Snow.” What a beautiful New Year it was; with a mild and fleecy sky, and the soft snow-flakes floating gently downward, till the earth was wrapped in a thus passes away the hopes and the friendship of ' P ure > white mantle. And the bells—the merry long years. I would that the blow had come from | New Y ? ar bells—ringing out their “peace on earth, the Union short of the Presidential chair, to which 1 the other side.” ! good will to men. his ambition soared. The wish to see him united j “Father, it pains me to hear you speak in that ■ Little Dilsie May stood by an open window, to one of the first and most influential families in j tone and believe me if it did not require a sacrifice 1 watching the merry sleighing parties as they Virginia, and render his success certain, was very j of principle, for your sake I would forget my own dashed by, but her eyes rested longer upon the dear to the ambitious parent’s heart, and he deter- j personal feelings and offer my hand to the girl, ; beautiful fleecy snow, that lay in a spotless carpet mined to erase from Fred’s mind all idea,if he ever j who after all, might reject me. But an alliance ! u pon the ground. Dilsie was only a lit tie girl, but had any, of entangling himself with a poor teacher j without love would only involve us both in a life- ■ s ^ e was ver y thoughtful indeed for a little girl of whose connection he believed belonged to the lower I long misery.” i ^ er a g e - ranks of society. He knew enough of his son’s “Yes, I see,” replied Mr. Gordon, in a despair- j “Mamma,” said she slowly, turning from the Indeed, if you think it will avail anything, I ! inflexible will, to be certain tha! coertion was im- ing voice. “But it is hard to relinquish the hopes 1 window, and coming to her mother s side, “h/t will kneel and add my supplications to yours,” j possible and intended only an appeal to his family ! entertained so long, and tell my friend that my 1 beautiful the snow is! Do you know he said, coming into the hall. pride and his sense of duty to his father. ! son rejects his daughter; but even that humiliation j was thinking? Lou remember that v It is quite useless to humble yourself, as it With this purpose in view, the first opportunity is better than an ill-assorted union, I suppose.” ! peated to you last Sabbath, ‘Though thy^ he went to Fred and toid him he desired a few) “Indeed it is dear father. But let us change the minutes conversation with him in private. i painful theme, and speak of my future pros- Fred surmised what was coming, and with a pects,” replied the son in a pained voice, he tried slight frown on his brow, and firmly compressed to render hopeful. lips followed him into the Library. After they ■ “Yes, unfold your plans and I will listen to with a sigh, taking May's hand to lead her down j were seated Mr. Gorden cleared up his throat and i them,” said Mr, Gordon, as though he had lost all the steps. j began : j interest in the subject. Kate watched them till the dark foliage on the j “ My son, from some things I have heard the j “You know,” said the young man, “I have al- mountain-side hid them from view, then went up j last few days, and from my own observation I am ready finished my course of study; my intention is to her room and quietly sat down to her work, j convinced there is danger of your becom ng en- ; —to be admitted to the bar and commence the i and p, Bonham are before Con thinking how happy it would make her to see the • tangled in a love affair that your own pride and j practice of law as early as possible next fall. After j rem0 * V al of politic? 1 disabilities S re88 > 1 haven't the least idea in life how it is to be i field of action he could mount to any eminence in done.” “ Nor shall you worry your head with it,” an swered Kate, laughing. “You were not made of common clay, like myself, and, like some rare vase, you were made more for ornament than use.” “Then I wish I was made of different material, for 1 would so much like to be good and useful like you. Mr. Merton, do come here and help me per suade Kate to go with us.” would not change my purpose—but see, they all are leaving you.” “ That means you dismiss us without further ceremony. Then come, Miss May, she is inexora ble when she determines any point,” Frank said, | i — J — ' n— , scarlet yet shall they be whiter than si> 10U gu again, ‘Wash me and I shall be whiter t-1 and What a beautiful prayer it is, mamma; I“<ri8 at tb snow prayer, and I never see the spotless snow-flakes falling so gently but what I think frhli How beautiful then shall we be if we are cleansed from our sins and washed “whiter than snow.” A . The petitions of Generals Joseph E. Johnston INSTINCT PRINT