Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

ilwM ; *:< father, an<l withdrew two or three steps with him out of bearing; and talked to him with a fixed and stern countenance, not at all like that with which she had hitherto Bpoken. I was filled with wonder that my father did not se'em to perceive the change, aud also un speakably curious to learn what it could be that she was speaking, almost in his ear, with so much earnestness and rapidity. Two or three minutes at most I think she re mained thus employed, then she turned, and a few steps brought her to where her daughter lay, supported by Madame Perrodon. She kneeled beside her for a moment and whisper ed, as Madame supposed, a little benediction in her ear; then hastily kissing her, she stepped into her carriage, the door was closed, the foot men in stately liveries jumped up behind, the outriders spurred on, the postillions cracked their whips, the horses plunged and broke sud denly into a furious canter that threatened soon again to become a gallop, and the carriage whirled away, followed at the same rapid pace by the two horsemen in the rear. CHAPTER III We followed the cortege with our eyes until it was swiftly lost to sight in the misty wood; and the very sound of the hoofs and the wheels died away in the silent night air. Nothing remained to assure us that the ad venture had not been an illusion of a moment but the young lady, who just at that moment opened her eves. I could not see, for her face was turned from me, but she raised her head, evidently looking about her, and I heart! a very sweet voice ask complainingly, “Where is mam ma?” Our good Madam Perrodon answered tender ly, and added some comfortable assurances. I then heard her ask: “Wheresml? What is this place?” and after that she said, “I don’t see the carriage; and Matska, where is she ?’’ Madam answered all her questions in so far as she understood them; and; gradually the young lady remembered how the misadventure came about, and was glad to learn that no one in, or in attendance on, the carriage was hurt; and on hearing that her mamma bad left her here till her return in about three months, she wept. I was going to add my consolations to those of Madam Perrodon when Mademoiselle De La- fonlaioe placed her hand ou my arm, saying: “D n't appioach; one at a time is as much as she can at present converse with; a very little excitement would possibly overpower her now.” As soon as she is comfortably in bed, I thought, I will run up to her room and see her. My father in the meantime bad sent a servant on horseback for the physician, who lived about two leagues away; and a bedroom was being pre pared for the young lady’s reception. The stranger now rose, and leaning on Mad am e's arm. walked slowly over the drawbridge and into the castle gate. In the hall, servants waited to receive her, and she was conducted forthwith to her room. The room we usually sat in as our draw ing room is long, having fonr windows, that looked over the moat and drawbridge, upon the forest scene I have just described. It is furnished in old carved oak, with large carved cabinets, and the chairs are cushioned with crimson Utrect velvet. The walls are cov ered with tapestry, and surrounded with great gold frames, the figures being as large as life, in ancient and very curious costume, and the sub jects represented are bunting, hawking and generally festive. It is not too stately to be ex tremely comfortable; and here we had our tea, for with his usual patriotic leanings, my father insisted that the national beverage should make its appearance regularly with our coffee and chocolate. We sat here this night, and with candles lighted, were talking over the adventure of the evening. Madame Perrodon and Mademoiselle De La- fontsine were both of our party. The young stranger had hgrdly lain down in her bed when she sank into a deep sleep; and those ladies had left her in the care of a servant “How do you like our guest ?” I asked, as soon as Madame entered. “Tell me about her” “I like her extremely,” answered Madam, “she is, I almost think, the prettiest creature I ever saw; about your age, and so gentle and nice.” “She is absolutely beautiful,” threw in Mad emoiselle, who had peeped for a moment into the stranger’s room. “And such a sweet voice!” added Madame Perrodon. “Did you remark a woman in the carriage, after it was set up again, who did not get out but only looked from the window?” inquired Mademoiselle. “No, we had not seen her.” Then she described a hideous black woman with a sort of colored turban on her head, who was gazing all the time from the carriage window nodding and grinning derisively towards the ladies, with gleaming eyes and large white eye balls, and her teeth set as if in fury. “Did you remark what an ill-looking pack of men the servants were ?” asked Madam. “Yes,” said my father, who had just come in, “ugly hang-dog looking fellows, as ever I be held in my life. I hope they mayn’t rob the poor lady in the forest. They are clever rogues, however; they got everything to rights in a min ute." “I dare say they are worn out with too long travelling,” said Madame; “besides looking wicked, their faces were so strangely lean and dark, and sullen. I am very curious, I own; but I dare say the young lady will tell us all about it to-morrow, if she is sufficiently recov ered.” “ I don’t think she will,” said my father, with a mysterious smile, and a little nod of his head, ns if he knew more about it than he cared to tell us. This made me all the more inqusitive as to what had passed between him and the lady in the black velvet, in the brief but earnest inter view that had immediately preceeded her de parture. We were scarcely alone; when I entreated him to tell me. He did not need much pressing. “There is no particular reason why I should not tell you. She expressed a reluctance to trouble us with the care of her daughter, saying that she was in delicate health, and nervous, but not subject to any kind of seizure—she vol unteered that—nor to any illusion; being in fact perfectly sane.” “ How very odd to say all that!” I interpolat ed, “ It was so unnecessary.” “ At all events it uias so said,” he laughed, “and as you wish to know all that passed, which was indeed very little, I tell you. She then said, 'I am making a long journey of vital im portance—she emphasized the word—rapid and secyet; I shall return for my child in three months; meantime, she will be silent as to who we are, whence we come, and whither we are trav elling.’ That is all she said. She spoke very pure Frenoh. When she said the word ‘secret,’ Bhe paused for a few seconds, looking sternly, her eyes fixed on mine. I fancy she makes a great point of that You saw how quickly she was gone. I hope I have not done a very foolish thing, in taking charge of the young lady.” For my part, I was delighted. I was longing to see and talk to her; and only waiting till the doctor should give me leave. You, who live in towns, can have no idea how great an event the introduction of a new friend is, In snob solitude ; as surrounded us. Tbe doctor did not arrive till nearly one o’clopk; but I could no more have gone te my bed and slept, than I could have overtaken, on foot tbe carriage in which the princess in black velvet had driven away. When the physician came down to the draw ing-room, it was to report entirely favorably of his patient. She was now sitting up, her pulse quite regular, apparently perfectly well* She had sustained no injury, and the little shock to her nerves had passed away quite harmlessly. There could be no harm certainly in my seeing her if we both wished it; and with this permis sion, I sent forthwith, to know whether she would allow me to visit her for a few minutes in her room. The servant returned immediately to say she desired nothing more. You may be sure I was not long in availing myself of this permission. Our visitor occupied one of the handsomest rooms in the schloss. It was perhaps, a little stately. There was a sombre piece of tapeBtry opposite the foot of the bed, representing Cleopatra with the asps to her bosom; and other solemn classic scenes were displayed, a little faded, upon the other walls. But there was gold carving, and rich and varied color enough in the other decorations of the room to more than redeem the gloom of the old tapastry. She was reclining on a quaint old sofa, her eje3 closed. Singularly enough, she was in even ing dress—wearing some silvery blou material that harmornized well with the wonderful fair- noss of her skin. I approached her softly and bent near to look at her face. What was it that made me recoil a step or two from her ? I will tell you. I saw the very face which had visited me in my childhood at night, which remained so fixed in my memory, and on which I had for so many years so often ruminated with horror, when no one suspected of what I was thinking. It was pretty, even beautiful; and when I first beheld it, wore the same melancholy expression. But almost instantly she opened her eyes and regarded me with a strange fixed smile of recog nition. There was a silence of fully a minute, and then at length she spoke I could not. “ How wonderful!” she exclaimed, -“Twelve years ago, I saw your face in a dream, and it has haunted me ever since.” “ Wonderful indeed !” I repeated, ovecoming with a effort the horror that had for a time suspended my utterance. “Twelve years ago, in vision or reality, I certainly saw you. I could not forget your face. It has remained before my eyes ever since.” Her smile had softened. Whatever I had fancied strange in it, was gone, and her dimp ling cheeks were now delightfully pretty and int: lligent. I felt reassured, and continued more in the vein which hospitality indicated, to bid her welcome, and to tell her how much pleasure her accidental arrival had given us all, and especially what happiness it was to me. I took her hand as I spoke. I was a little shy, as lonely people are, but the situation made me eloquent, and even bold. She pressed my hand she laid hers upon it, and her eyes glowed, as looking hastily into mine, she smiled again and blushed. She answered my welcome very prettily. I sat down boside her still wondering; and she said. “I must tell yon my vision about you ; it is so very strange that you and I should have had, each of the other so vivid a dream, that each should have seen, I you and you me, looking as we do now, when of course we both were mere children. I was a child, about six years old, and I awoke from a confused and troubled dream, fifod fon^flJin^selT in?a room; u'nlike my nursery^ wainscoated clumsy in some dark wood, and with cupboards and bedsteads, and chairs, and benches placed about it. The beds were, I thought, all empty, and the room itself without any one but myself in it; and I, after looking about me for some time, and admiring especial ly an iron candlestick, with two branches, which I should certainly know again, crept under one of the beds to reach the window; but as I got from under the bed, I heard some one crying; and looking up, while I was still upon my knees, I saw you — most assuredly you-as I see you now; a beautiful young lady, with golden hair and large blue eyes, and lips—your lips—you, as yon are here. Your looks won me; I climbed on the bed and put my arms about you, and I think we both fell asleep. I was roused by a scream; you were sitting up screaming. I was frightened, and slipped down upon the ground, and, it seemed to me, lost consciousness for a moment; and when I came to myself, I was again in my nursery at home. Your face I have never forgotten since. I could not be misled by mere resemblance. You are the lady whom I then saw.” It was now my turn to relate my correspond ing vision, which I did, to the undisguised wonder of my new acquaintance. “I don’t know which should be most afraid of the other,” she said, again smiling—“If you were less pretty I think I should be very much afraid of yon, but being as you are, and you and I both so young, I feel only that I have made your acquaintance twelve years ago, and have already a right to your intimacy; at all events it does seem as if we were destined, from our earliest childhood, to be friends. I wonder whether yon feel as strangely drawn towards me as I do to you; I have never had a friend—shall I find one now?” She sighed and her fine dark eyes gazed passionately on me. Now the truth is, I felt rather unaccountably towards the beautiful stranger. I did feel, as she said, “drawn towards her,” but there was also something of repulsion. In this ambigu ous feeling, however, the sense of attraction im mensely prevailed. She interested and won me; she was bo beautiful and so indescribably enga- ging. I perceived now something of langour and exhaustion stealing over her, and hastened to bid her good night “The doctor thinks,” I added, “that you ought to have a maid to sit up with you to-night; one of ours is waiting, and you will find her a very useful and quiet creature. ’ “How kind of you, but I could not sleep, I never could with an attendant in the room. I shan’t require any assistance—and, shall I con fess my weakness, I am haunted with a terror of robbers. Our house was robbed once, and two servants murdered, so I lock my door. It has become a habit—and you look so kind I know you will forgive me. I see there is a key in the lock.” She held me close in her arms for a moment and whispered in my ear, “Good night, darling, it is very hard to part with you, but good night; to-morrow, but not early, I shall see you again.” She sank back on the sofa pillow with a sigh, and her fine eyes followed me with a fond and melancholy gaze, and she murmured again “good night, dear friend.” Young people like, and even love, on impulse. I was flattered by the evident, though as yet un deserved, fondness she showed me. I liked the confidence with which she at once received me. She was determined that we should be very near friends. Next day came and we met again. I was de lighted with my companion; that is to say, in many respects. Her looks lost nothing in daylight—she was certainly the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, and the unpleasant rememberanee of the face presented in my early dream, had lost the effect of the first unexpected recognition. She confessed that she bad experienced a sim ilar shock on seeing me, and precisely the same faint antipath> that had mingled with my admi ration of her. We now laughed together over our momentary horrors. [TO BE CONTINUED } VIOLETTA THE SANTIA60 OUTCAST A Romance of Cuba. BY J. R. MUSICK. Author of JoHtr Jacket, Maggie Novas, Golden Medal, Won Thbouoh Fibs, etc., Ere. CHAPTER VL—The Insubbeotionists. The portion of the country our hero was now in, was the^jkjesl and mjst mountainous of all Cuba. Occasionally' when they ascended some very high peak, glimpse of the sea could be caught among the tree and mountain tops. Albert soon di” : vered that the old negro was thoroughly’?"'llijted with the various intricate windings of uiT n c *>untain paths. The sun was high in the heaves when they came to a rocky ravine. Here pausing, old Casper took a pole that leaned against the bluff, and prized away a large stone, revealing a cavern in the earth. Chirping a few notes peculiar to a mountain bird of tnat district, it brought a man to the entrance. It was one of the rebels and instant ly recognizing ourjhero, he grasped him warmly by the hand, shore two were then invited to enter, which thfey did, and the stone was rolled back to its place. Our hero soon learned that his yacht had not been disturbed by-any one since he last saw it. Two of the insurrectionists had visited it twice a day. They were all glad to get a chance to leave the island and go to a more genial coun try. Arrangoments were soon made for the depart ure from Cuba. Four of the Cubans were to go to the vessel, and the other two were to come to old Casper’s cottage and accompany our friends that night ^o the coast. Everything being agreed on, our hero and his sable companion returned to the hut, where they found eve> - -*^" /rig quiet. The day was con siderably advad u r4, A dinner was pre;ared, alter which bur ’hero and Violetta became en gaged in conversation, and Simon was doing his best to teach his “ gal ”“ United States,” when there came a light tap at the door. “ Thunder is to pay,” said the Yankee, spring ing up and grasping his revolver. Albert arose, crept to the door and peered through the key hole a moment and opened it. Madge of the Woods entered. She looked faint and exhausted; her bare feet and legs were torn and bleeding witji traveling over the rough stones, and tb r0 ’ a ^li the briar thickets. Her scant tattered garments were now shreds. “Madge,” < ; ried our hero, “we owe our pres ent happiness aa »J ’’Tberty all to you. Come in, and in defiance o)" 1 !* the proclamations Burriel and Castino can i?»ae, you shall have a comfort able meal and somt do .lies.” The poor wand /rir’s eyes now fell on the beautiful outcast, >and covering her wretched face with her skjyny hands she cried: “O, Senor, lfet «ie not see her; for heaven’s sake, let me not look in the face of that poor girl.” flSSL So sjb.ryi^juo l°hg that voice to ViulefeA that she started to her feet at the sound. “ Poor woman,” said our heroine, “why do you fear me? As Heaven is my witness I will not do you harm.” “Go way, go way, go away," shrieked the pauper, sinking in a chair, burying her face in her hands and weeping bitterly. “She never shall know,” sobbed the strange woman, still keeping her face covered with her hands. Weeing that Violetta’s presence was painful to her, our hero urged Violetta to go in an adjoin ing apartment of the hut. Some food was then brought the wanderer, of which she partook freely. Her many wounds were dressed by the kind, old, black woman. Some clean and comfortable clothes were given her, and she was put in bed; the first bed poor Madge had touched for months. So sweet and refreshing was the ohange that she soon fell asleep. Night came and every preparation was made for traveling to the boat. When it was quite dark, Simon, who had been out on guard, came in and said the two Cuban friends had arrived. These Cubans had been engaged in the revolt against the Spanish authorities; and as their lives would not be worth a straw if they should fall in the hands of their enemies; they were anxious to get away to America. Madge was aroused and asked if she wished to leave the island and goto America. “I’ll go any where, to escape the hellish tor tures of Castino,” she replied. “Idid hope to be his death, but he has proven too much for me, and now let me escape to some place where I can die in peace.” “Come with us, poor woman, and I will love and care for you like a daughter,” said Violetta, wiping the crystal tear drops from her own eyes. “Go way, girl, if you care for me don’t come near me,” cried the woman in that harsh, un natural, yet familiar voice. Violetta did not again approaoh or speak to her, but wondered what this strange aversion could mean. The wounded feet of Madge were carefully bound up; but were so swollen as to preclude the very idea of shoes. However she managed to walk with tolerable ease. She placed a Span ish hood on her head, and a veil which complet- ly concealed her disfigured face. Our party again sallied forth on their journey. The moon had not y*et risen, and it was quiet dark, but the Cuban, rebels were well acquaint ed with tbe route. For two hours all went well, and fair progress were made, but at the end of that time the deep baying of dogs and voices of men could be heard, about a mile in their rear. “ Those hell hounds are after us agin,” thund ered Simon. “Now I’ll be shot if somebody don’t git hurt ’afore this thing is over with. ” Deep, unearthly bays and wild shouts in their rear seemed to make reply. CHAPTER VII.—Adventures in the Dark. Violetta hung trembling to the arm of her be trothed, and Adelpha clung to Simon, while he endeavored as well as he could to soothe her fears. “This is a time for action, not for comment,” said Albert. “ We are pursued, this timo by sol diers, doubtless ten times our own number, and it would be folly to attempt to beat them back. We must outwit them or we will be sure to fall a sac rifice to their vengeance.” “ Outwit them ? How are ye goin’ to do that ?” asked Simon. “ I will remain with the ladies, and do you three draw them off our trail, then escape and come to the boat, where we shall doubtless be.” Simon reflected a moment and said : “ Well, see he—ar, will ye take as good care o’ my gal, as yer own?” “ To be sure I shall,” replied Albert, who could not repress a smile, intense as the danger wai. “ Do you know the way to the yacht?” asked one of the Cubans. “ I am sure that I do, though I was never over this couutry but once before. If I mistake not our vessel is to the north two miles, in a email creek.” “You are correct, look that you do not lose your way,” replied the Cuban. It was now becoming necessary for immediate action. The loud bayiug of blood-hounds, and shouts sf soldiers, were every instant drawing nearer to them. Simon and the two Cubans darted off to the east, and run as rapidly as they could, managing to attract the attention of both men aud dogs, while our hero and the women drew silently and swift ly away to the North. They paused in a dense thicket to reconnoiter. The wild shouts of eoldiers, and loud deep bay ing of blood-hounds was fearful to hear. Cries and oaths were heard on their right, but each in stant drawing farther and farther away. Suddenly a flash and the loud report of a mus ket came from the hill on their right. There was a cry of agony, whether of man or beast, by the sound, they could not tell. “There!” shouted a Spaniard, “they’ve shot one of the dogs; fire on them.” A dozen muskets answered the command, and awoke a hundred echoes in the forest. “ Bang, bang,” c ame back two shots in return, each drawing a shriek of agony. “ There are but two of them, forward ! charge ! Capture them dead or alive 1” shouted a voice which they plainly recognized as Castino’s. A deafening shout, the loud baying of dogs, a rush of feet and the rapid discharge of muskets and pistols was heard; but it was impossible for our friends to tell how it was all going to terminate. While this sharp conflict was going on, our hero became conscious of a sniffing sound, at no great distance from him. Peering from the thicket, he descried the eyes of a large blood-hound gleaming on them, like burning coals. Tne fierce animal has scented out his prey, and was now making ready for the at tack. Albert could easily have shot the dog where he stood, but the report of his pistol would bring the enemy on them by the scores. lie instantly re solved on a more prudent course. Snatching the thick scarf from Violetta’s shoul ders, he wound it about his left arm, and with his right, drew a dagger and stood prepared to meet the attack of the terrible brute. Should the animal howl or make the slightest noise, be would betray their presence. The dog made a silent but fearful spring at Albert’s throat, lie threw up his left arm, and the auimal’s fangs closed on it. With all his strength, Albert bore the brute to the earth, pressing his muffled arm so hard in his mouth as to preclude any sound the dog would make, ami quick as thought drove the dagger three times to his heart, A shudder passed through the animal’s frame, and his limbs straightened out in death ; his jaws relaxed their hold, and Albeit arose from the ground. He returned Moletta’s scarf, wiped his dagger and thrust it back in its sheath. The shouts, cries, rapid uischarge of fire-arms, and baying of dogs, on their right, was fast re ceding. Evidently the plan was working well, and their foes were being drawn away from the more help less fugitives. “We will now proceed on our course,” said Al bert, “and heaven grant we may not be interfered with any more before we reach the vessel.” With one girl clinging to each arm, and old Madge hobbling along in the rear, they made all speed they could toward the boat. t Frqm thj shouts j>f the pursuers it was evident they were at fault/"Occasionally the shouts were heard first in one place, then in another; but to add to their danger it became evident that their foes were scattering, and at any moment strag gling parties might come on them. At length, the narrow creek in which the small vessel lay, was reached by Albert and the females. No sounds of pursuit had been heard for the last half hour, but they knew the enemy could be at no great distance from them. There lay the little vessel, all ready for sea. the four Cubans on board anxiously waiting for them. “Now, if Simon and the others were here, we might get away without any further collision with the soldiers,” said Albert. Even as he spoke, three forms almost breathless with running, glided from the forest to tbe bank of the creek. They were Simon aud the two Cu bans. With the exception of a few scratches, they were unhurt. “Quick !” whispered one of the Cubans, “get on board instantly, for the enemy are on us.” As if to confirm what he said, a loud shout came from the woods at no great distance away. Quickly as possible the ladies were assisted from the high bank down to the deck of the little vessel, the moorings cast loose, and all got on board, and shoved off. The yacht was about one hundred yards from the mouth of the creek, the banks being covered with a dense foliage of trees, no breeze could reach them, until the open sea was gained. The tide being at the flow, there was no current to bear them sea ward, so they had to pole their way out. The Spanish soldiers were now approaching so near that their voices could be plainly heard in conver sation. Our friends pushed with their long poles as they never pushed before. The little vessel is gliding swiftly along, when suddenly the top rigging be comes entangled in the overhanging branches of a tree. The footsteps of the enemy are heard ap proaching. All seems lost. Not so; Simon seizes an ax, springs into the rigging and quickly cuts the limbs of the tree away. All may yet be saved. Simon now seizes a pole, and seems inspired with tbe strength of a dozen men. Ilis broad shouldeis c n accomplish more than the united strength of the six Cubans. Albert works coolly and calmly, giving his orders in a low tone, without even a quiver in his voice. The enemy are steadily approaching. The yacht has reached the opening and the sea suddenly bursts into view. Albert had prevailed on the three women to en ter the small cabin, and under no considerations to appear on deck, until they were fairly at sea. Tramp, tramp, comes the regular military tread of soldiers, even down to the sea-coast. The three Cuban sailors were buvy trimming and setting the sails, while Albert held the rudder firmly in his hand. The open sea was gained, and the water was be coming too deep, for the poles to be of service any longer. Just at this moment a dozen soldiers, headed by Castino, emerged from the forest on the beach, and more were coming. The Spaniards were as tonished. “There they go out to sea, fire on them!” shouted Castino. A. volley of musketry was fired at our friends, but the balls flew harmlessly among the rigging. Simon and three others snatched their guns from the deck and gave such a warm fire in return, that tbe soldiers were compelled to fall back. “ A boat, a boat, a thousand doubloons for a boat,” yelled Castino. A large skiff, capable of containing a dozen men was found on the beach. Into this Castino and twelve men tumbled, and set out after the yacht. A breeze had caught the sales of the little ves sel, and it was beginning to make some headway; but the strongly manned oars of the skiff, would soon bring the Spaniards along side. CHAPTER VIII. SIMON S TLAO. The moon had risen by this time, and revealed the shore covered with a large body of soldiers. Th° boqt filled to overflowing with armed men, striving to overtake the yacht, could also be dis cerned. The long oars of the enemy were bent almost double under the heavy strokes, and their boat seemed to shoot like an arrow through the water. Albert saw that they were bound to be overtaken beefore they could get fairly under headway. It was also evident that Castino thought he had only two men to deal with, instead of eight. “Simon,” said he in a tone in which there was not the least excitement, “go down in the cabin and bring up the fire-arms there; we’ll teach those fellows yonder a lesson.” Simon and the two Cubans hurried off to the cabin, and soon returned with the six muskets and two rifles before spoken of. The guns were all loaded and in excellent order. “Give me a rifle,” said Albert, holding the wheel in his strong left hand. It was done, and Simon took the other, while the six Cubans took the muskets. The enemies boat was now in gun shot, and they were already beginning to fire on the vaebt. Simon and the Cubans rested their guns on the taff rail, and aimed them directly at the approach ing boat. Albert placed his knee firmly on the stanchion, and leveled his rifle on them also. “Fire!” he shouted, at the same time pulling the trigger. A volley like a thunderclap broke on the night air, and eight streams of flame sprang from the stern of the little vessel. “ Hell aud fury 1” roared Castino as he felt the sting of a rifle ball on the cheek, and another pass through the fleshy part of his left arm. Two of his men tell over board, and three more sank life less into the bottom of the boat. “ Back men !” shouted the wounded Spaniard. “ They have a full armed crew on board. We’ll hasten to Santiago, and I’ll have a fleet after them, before five hours.” (fo he continued.) PEOPLE WHO DRINK, Some Realistic Observations in First-class Bar-rooms. Physicians say that two-thirds of their male patieuts suffer in one way or another from alco holic poison. No close observer will be dis posed to doubt this. From the low shops on South and West streets, along the line of the more fashionable saloons on and near Broadway, in the vicinity of the old post-office and the gilded retreats that gird the Astor House, in the several places of note on Printing House Square, and in the magnificent marble palaces that fringe Madison Square, not omitting the fres coed club room and the dingy slop-shops of the east side—from the first to the last, and in them all, the same story of intemperance may be learned. I went into the basement of one of Gotham's greatest architectural piles this morning, and stood at the end of the counter, half an hour, to see what was dene. There were four bar tenders all busily engaged. In that brief time they sold to all sorts and conditions of men two hundred beers, thirty-two whiskies, ten lemon ades, two plain seltzers, and three gin-cocktails. It was an exceptionally busy half an hour, to be sure; but as I took my seat at a little table near the counter, I noticed in the next half hour, and made a memorandum to*gu3fd 'against mis takes, a sale of oce hundred and thirty beers, fifty whiskies and six gin cocktails. The men who drank them were not “bums.” Very many of them are known to the world of politics, several are noted writers, the city hall furnished its quota, some do business in the swamp, and not one seemed in the least degree affected by what he drank. Le iving this place we went to another saloon equally well known, whose proprietors pay an annual rent of $00,000 for the premises, which are kept open from b o’clock in the morning until seven in the evening. Standing by a little cigar case which is placed at one side of the room, I devoted half an hour to the close count of the drinks and drinkers. There were three barkeepers, and they had all they could do to attend promptly to the customers. One compa ny of six young men drank six times in less than fifteen minutes, and each took his whisky straight. In half an hoar’s time that bar sold ninety-eight whiskies, four ginger ales, three ciders and fourteen ginger cocktails. As I went ont I said to one of the six young men who drank six times, “What are you drinking so much for to-day ?” “Oh, nothing,” he replied; “I didn’t intend to. Charley and I went in for an oyster, and were ordering when those four fellows from Albany came along. Charley asked ’em to drink, and one followed another.” That’s the history of many a spree. The spreer does not intend to go off; meeting a friend the one tempts the other. Returning to the saloon 1 visited first, I or dered a lunch, and was soon joined—I always am—by an acquaintance, who, of course, said : “What’ll you take?” Being in a taking mood I said I would try a glass of rye. He took the same. Having said “How,” and emptied our glasses, I said : “Ruff, whut did you drink that whisky for ? Do you like it?" “No, I don’t like it. I’m drinking too much, too. Guess I’ll pull up.” “Well, tell me what did you order it for ?” “Why, for sociability’s sake, I suppose. What did you drink it for?” “Because I wanted to ask just this question. I’ve been looking at the fellows drink there. I believe that eight ont of ten drink just because they don’t like to say ‘no 1’ ’’ “Does it make yonr head ache to drink whis ky ?” “Yes.” “So it does mine. I swore off whisky and took to beer, but beer makes me bilious.” “Why drink any thing ?” “Hanged if I know, but we all do drink.” We were joined by an actor. Being an actor and in the company of a newspaper man, there was, he thought, bnt one thing to do. Said he, “WhatTl yon take ?” We took whisky. So did he. We each said, “How,” and then said I, “Dan, do you like whisky ?” “I hate it” “Why do you drink." “I don’t often. I generally take gin; but they both upset me; give me a fearful headache. But what are you going to do ? Mast drink some thing.” In that way I have spoken to not less than twenty men this very day. Of the twenty fifteen said that drink always gave them a headache ; one man owned that “he loved the taste;” one’ said he drank because he was ‘blue,” and con fessed he was “on a tear,” and he didn’t care who knew it It stands to reason that this sort of thing must produce some impression on the human form divine. The doctors say that it in duces paralysis, indigestion, headache, rheuma tism and weakness of all kinds. Not being a doctor, I don’t intend to indorse their opinion, but this I will I say, that among all the hundreds —regular topers, not drunkards—to be found in the first-class saloons of New York to-day, it would be imposssible to find a dozen men who will say that they drink because they are fond of liquor. They drink because it seems the thing to do.