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TAKE CARE WHOM
YOU TRUST.
BY COMPTON READE.
CHAPTER XV.
Horaeo Blackley came of a sharp, trading, not
to say nnsornpnloan, stock. Like his father be
fore him, he never missed a chance. Quite in
dependent of a secret desire to get his friend
Lovett completely in his power—to ruin or to
patronise, According to circumstances—he re
ally appreciated the commercial value of Mud-
flat glebe. So he set to work to effect the pro
posed exchange in earnest. He talked to the
Bishop, and threw the requisite dust in that
spiritual peer’s eyes. He forwarded testimoni
als to the Dean and Chapter of Blankton, and,
by dint of specious rather than veracious repre
sentations, obtained their sanotion as patrons.
Lastly, he entered into treaty for the immediate
purchase of St. Mary's Lingeville, the famous
episcopal chapel, the owner of which, a certain
Mr. Bulps, a literate clergyman, was extremely
desirous of parting with his property—the afore
said property having recently failed to pay its
expenses. . , , „ .
One morning Mr. Lovett received a letter from
Mr. Rlackley, dated Coldhole, to the effect that
the negotiation might now be regarded as com
plete. A certain Mr. Gubbins, a retired attor
ney, had agreed to buy Coldhole ad vowson, with
a view of appointing his son, who had just taken
priest’s orders. Mr. Bulps was more than eager
to barter away St. Mary’s Lingeville, and all
other preliminaries were satisfactorily settled.
It now remained for Mr. Lovett to take the in
itiative by resigning Mudflat vicarage in favour
of his friend and well-wisher, the writer.
It was a saint's day, and according to the cus
tom which he had introduced, there was morn
ing service in the church. It happened that
Adine was out of sorts, and unable to attend
that function, so, having read the letter, he hur
ried off to his duty alone.
After church he ran against good Farmer Ro
per, who came on these occasions, “not,” he was
wont to say, “that he believed in summuch pub
lic worship, as because he desired to support
his passon.” Farmer Roper always stopped for
a civil word after service. He never emitted a
copia verbum, but his words were meant to cor
respond with his actions. Both were genu-
ine.
“Looks pretty middling this morning, sir, you
does,” he said.
“Middling,” translated into English, means
ill; “pretty middling,” decidedly ill. Perhaps
the critical news had turned Mr. Lovett’s cheek
pale.
“I’m afraid, Roper, Mudflat doesn’t agree
with us. Mrs. Lovett is not at all well to-day.
In fact I—I m thinking about moving.”
“Well, sir, a change will do'ee both good.”
“Yes, Roper, but when people go away they
don’t always come back again.” He felt shy of
talking about actually leaving his home forever.
Perhaps he remembered that poor Roper bad
been spending money heavily on the glebe land,
and that another vicar might act unfairly by the
honest farmer.
“Never fear!” cried Roper cheerfully. “You’re
one of the right sort; you’ve put your ’and t©
to the plow, and ain’t a going to turn back.
No, Muster Lovick, you be a bit squeamish like
in yourself. Take a holyday for a time, sir,
never mind about no curits. I be churchwarden
I’ll read sum mat good out of The Book to the
people of a Sunday in the schoolroom. Law
bless you, they’ll like it just as well, and better,
for they’ll be in time for their dinners !”
But Mr. Lovett shook his head sadly.
“Muster Lovick,” continued the farmer, de-
determined not to be foiled—“Sir, I be only a
ignorant country feller, so doan’t ’ee take of
fence. But if its a matter of ways and means as
keeps thee at home when thou shouldst by
rights be away, dang it! take six months rent of
the farm in advance. I’m agreeable; gay the
word, and I’ll fetch thee thy money this very
blessed day as ever' is. ”
Quite excited was Farmer Roper, and, as the
reader will perceive, as thorough and true a
specimen of a British yeoman as you could wish
to meet.
But the clergyman only turned paler than be
fore, and his hand quivered strangely as he de
clined this liberal offer. Then he hurried back
to his wife in a very uneasy and perplexed
frame of mind.
Not a little indignant was Adine to find that
at the last moment his resolution was shaken.
The imagination of a life in Lingeville, amid
pretty women and prettier dresses, herself the
cynosure of all things seriously gay, and gaily
serious, had been for days most acceptable to
her young brain. She refused to listen to a syl
lable of caution, or a note of alarm.
Whereupon he began to make excuses. Black
ley h»d been guilty of indecent haste in a mat
ter of suoh serious import. He must confess,
too, that he felt conscientious scruples about
leaving his people, to whom he was much attach
ed. Lastly, it was a grave question as to wheth
er Blackley wouldjrespect Farmer Roper’s strong
moral claim to the glebe land.
Adine replied, curtly, that Mr. Blackley’s
haste was occasioned by fear lest the Lingeville
Chapel should paBsinto other hands; that, as
regards conscience, he ought to consider her
health and happiness before the boors of a
country village; whilst as tor Mr. Roper, he was
quite man of business enough to manage his own
affairs; further, that if, matters having gone so
far, he were to break faith with and disappoint
Mr. Blackley, that gentleman would be justly
incensed, and would certainly demand the mon
ey due to him, which was not forthcom
ing.
This last feather broke the camel’s back.
“I shall go to Blankton, and take Chowner’s
advice tomorrow,” said Mr. Lovett, and he
wrote to that effect to Mr. Blackley, adding that,
subject to the approval of the Blankton lawyer,
he was prepared to resign—making, however,
tn limine, one honourable stipulation, viz. that
Mr. Roper, under the new regime, was not to be
dispossessed, or disturbed in his tenancy of the
glebe farm.
On the following morning, just before starting
to drive to the nearest Btation, seme miles dis
tant, he received a letter from young Ralph in
London. It ran as follows:
“My dear Sir,—You will be surprised to hear
fti»t 1 have got my first pupil, and still more so
when I tell you who that pupil is. Imagine,
then, your humble servant, with a small tenor
voice, giving instruction to Captain Hawder—
the same Captain Hawder who was formerly
quartered in Blankton. He has a very gruff bass,
and is a bad reader, with a most incorrect no
tion of time. Flease give my kindest remem
brances to Mrs. Lovett, and tell her that 1 keep
my ears open to hear something new for her,
every time I am lucky enough to obtain a ticket
for Mme. Sc humann or M. Halle.
“I remain, ever your grateful friend,
S. £. Ralph.
“P.8. By the way, a bit of gossip. Captain
H. has divulged that his family have bullied
him into an engagement with the eldest Miss
Bloek. Somehow she has come into some money.
From her he has heard of your exchange of liv
ings, and he asaerts that Mr. Blackley is a black
guard, and will take advantage of you it he can.
So be forewarned.”
the course of an hour and a half, the road
mil took Theodore Lovett within sight of
the pinnacles and spires of the old cathedral
city. . ...
Alone in the second-class carriage, he had am
ple time for reflection. He felt very irresolute,
and the nearer he drew to resignation of his bene
fice, the less he liked the notion. It somehow
appeared financially a risk, morally a dubious
question, and spiritually something equivalent
to a sin. Yet, on the other hand, he did not like
to dash the hopes Adine had raised for herself,
nor could he count on the consequences of of
fending Horace Blackley. He recollected that
a living may be sequestrated for debt, and if
once he found himself in that condition, good
bye to bis just influence as vicar forever.
“I will state the case fairly to Chowner,” he
said to himself, “and I will be guided wholly
and entirely by his judgment ot what is right
andsafe.”
In a few minutes he was at the lawyer’s door,
in front of which were standing two carriages.
He recognized them as belonging to the chief
medicine men of Blankton.
“What is the matter ?” he enquired of the ser
vant.
“Mr. Chowner, sir, dangerously ill, sir. Had
a paralytic stroke an hour Ago."
Mr. Lovett turned away sick at heart, and sor
ry. He had lost his one honest adviser.
CHAPTER XVI.
When Theodore Lovett returned home, his
face bore an unwonted expression of gloom.
He had resigned his benefice.
Two days after a letter came from the bishop’s
private secretary, to the effect that his lordship
had been graciously pleased to accept Mr. Lov
ett’s resignation. He was no longer Vicar of
Mudflat.
It is not possible to say why, but a very un
easy feeling came over Mr. Lovett as he perused
this official communication. He found himself
suddenly without means of livelihood, and his
good friend, Horace Blackley somehow was om
inously silent. What did it ell mean?
At last a letter arrived bearing the Lingeville
post-mark, and in the hand writing of his suc
cessor elect. It had become necessary, he said,
for St. Mary's Episcopal Church to be sold at
once. He had therefore, entered into arrange
ments on behalf of Mr. Lovett with the local
bank to advance a portion of the purchase-mon
ey on deposit of the title-deeds, and with the
owner of the chapel, a certain Mr. Bulps, to sur
render his deeds, in return for such advance as
part payment, in order to facilitate the negotia
tion. The entire sum would of course be forth
coming out of the sale of Coldhole ad vowson, to
complete which matter 6f business would take
about a month. He begged Mr. Lovett to come
to Lingeville at once, and without delay.
Of course 6uch a request demanded instant
obedience. Adine packed her husband's port
manteau, and with a bright face brimming over
with smiles—she had no misgivings—started
him off by the next train for Lingeville.
Arrived at that fashionable watering-place,
Mr. Lovett stumbled upon Mr. Blackley dis
guised in a black tie, and a most unclerical coat;
in his mouth was a cigar, in his pockets either
hand. From his manner one might judge t .at
he was desperately out of tern per, and inclined
to be sullen.
“Cuss the parsons!” he cried, “what an
amount of trouble they do give. The infernal
bother I’ve had with this fellow Bulps, now ! I
hope, Lovett, you mean to be more reasonable ?”
“Why ?”
“Why? Because I’ve done my fair share of
work in this confounded negotiation, and now I
shall trouble other people to do theirs.”
Each regard each with a stare, the one of
amazement, the other of cool impudence.
“Is there any hitch ?” enquired Mr. Lovett.
His friend laughed satirically. Then he took
his cigar out of his mouth and spoke slowly.
“Look here, Lovett. In affairs of this sort it
is every man for himself, and ; the rest I
leave to your imagination. Bien I mean to take
care of myself. 1 have put Mudflat and this St
Mary’s chapel at much-of-a-muchness in respect
to value. That, however, isn’t my point exactly.
If Coldhole wasn’t in Essex it would be worth a
clear nine thousand pounds. Being in the
marshes, we must make a reduction. It is, how
ever worth every penny of seven thousand.
Mudflat, I value as'a presentation, hum—to be
liberal—we will say at sixteen hundred. By ac
cepting Mudflat therefore I am paid that amount
out of seven thousand,(leaving a balance to come-
to me of five thousand four hundred, to which I
must add in round numbers four hundred, your
old debt with the interest. That makes five
thousand eight hundred in all, a sum which
must be paid to our trustees, as my present in
tention is to settle it on Mrs. Blackley.”
“I don't quite understand yon about this sev
en thousand pounds,” replied Mr. Lovett. “I
thought that you had definitely arranged with
some one to buy Coldhole ?”
“I suppose you mean Dubbins?"
“You know best what the man’s name is,” re
joined the other in a testy tone.
To this Mr. Blackley vouchsafed no remark;
but, his cigar being out, took refuge in a tune,
which he hummed—flatly too.
“Did this man Dubbins, or whatever his name
is—did he, or did he not, agree to give Bevea
thousand pounds ?” cried Mr. Lovett angrily.
* ‘Of course he did. What did I write to you?”
Then, if it is all settled, why reopen the ques
tion ?”
“Because, my good sir,” rejoined Mr. Black
ley, his features approximating to a grin; “be
cause the past is not the present tense. Dub
bins has altered his mind; not that it matters;
there are many others who will give a better fig
ure. Belshazzar, the London agent, told me
that Coldhole ought to fetch eight thousand if
properly advertised.”
“Decidedly; had I had even a suspicion of the
real state of affairs, I should never have resigned
Mudflat”
Mr. Lovett felt justly incensed at bis friend’s
duplicity.
“There is no reason for regrets,” remarked
Mr. Blackley. “I only ask you to take care of
your own interest. Indeed, I am sick of doing
other people's business; one gets no thanks.
However this conversation will not forward
matters. Had we not better meet Bulps, who
is now waiting for us at Mr. Petifer’s, the Linge
ville lawyer ? The necessary documents are all
prepared, and ready for signature.”
The unlucky fish entangled in the meshes of a
net soon discovers the tolly of struggling to es
cape. As he thought of the dear ones at home',
Theodore Lovett could only pray that all might
end well. Yet his heart sank within him. He
turned sick with apprehensions;still there was
no middle course left, so he followed Horace
Blackley with forced calmness to the lawyer’s
office.
They found Mr. Petifer a most magnificent
piece of condescension, whose time was exceed
ingly precious—so preoious that he declined on
principle to answer any questions, however
graciously put He was country agent of a live
duke, and the importance this distinction gave
him cannot be either exaggerated or appreciat
ed.
The business did not oocupy many minutes.
Mr. Bulps, a harmless, and not very forcible
sort of a clergyman, signed away his proprietary
chapel, in consideration of a cheque for one
thousand, and promissory notes for six hun-
pounds. Mr. Lovett became in one moment
owner of a property, and debtor to the Lingeville
Bank, from whom he borrowed the aforesaid
cheque, he engaging to repay the same within
thirty-one days.
From Mr. Petifer’s office they marohed to St.
Mary's ohapel, a very unecclssiastical structure,
of which Mr. Lovett received forma! possession.
This ceremony over, Mr. Blackley took out his
watch, observing that he had only five minutes
to oatch his train.
“I wanted a little further conversation with
you.” urged Mr. Lovett '
“Quite so. All in good time You have, how
ever, to settle a variety of details with Mr. Bulps
as regards the fixtures of the chapel.
“Our business must therefore Btand over fora
day or two. I will either write to you, or call at
Mudflat; probably the latter. Of course Cold
hole must be sold forthwith, for you to meet the
bill due at the bank. I shall tell my lawyer in
town to press matters forward. Good-bye.” •
And in a trice Horace Blackley had disappear
ed.
Mr. Bulps then metaphorically took Mr. Lov
ett by the button-hole, and, after dilating on the
scandalous vice of free and open churches,
which were simply ruining the vested interests
of pews, regretted much that, owing to impor
tant and nameless engagements, he could not
offer him the hospitality he desired. He fur
ther added a piece of information, which some
what surprised his hearer, to the effect that Mr.
Blaokley had arranged for him to continue min
istration in, and to receive the emoluments of
St. Mary’s, until the time when the odd GOO? be
came due and was paid.
Poor Mr. Lovett. He had imagined that his
career as a popular preacher was to begin at
once, instead of being deferred. Worse, still,
he found himself suddenly destitute of income.
What was to be done?
He strolled dismally enough to his hotel, and
sitting down wrote a resume of his position to
Canon Grabbe, asking the Chapter to reinstate
him to his living, and at the same time avowing
himself most dissatisfied with Mr. Blackley’s
arrangements.
Then he took out his purse. Twenty-five
pounds only stood between him and starvation.
Perhaps, if he did not send that letter, Horace
Blackley might lend him some little money. But
no. He already felt his confidence shaken in
his ugly friend. Let the letter go—and yet,
something must be done.
Accordingly, as a forlorn hope, he wended his
way back to Mr. Petifer’s offiice. Finding the
lawyer just about to leave for an aldermanic
feast, he nevertheless contrived'to obtain a brief
audience, which was cut short by the comfort
able assurance that the bank, desiring Mr. Lov
ett's patronage and support, would gladly ad
vance him another hundred pounds on the ti
tle-deeds of St. Mary’s Chapel.
“Gallon me, sir, tomorrow,” mouthed the
grandiose Petifer, hungering and thirsting after
proximate turtle and venison. “No. There
will be no legal charge. ^In these affairs I act for
the bank. Perhaps, however, it will be as well
for you to settle my account for the transfer of
St. Mary's.”
“Mr. Bulps ought to pay that,” rejoined Mr.
Lovett.
“Quite so. But Mr. Blackley arranged other
wise. In fact, if Mr. Bulps had not been hu- [
mored, he would have refused to part with nis j
tit e-deeds—a most unbusiness-like action, in
my opinion. Good evening Mr.—ah—ah—I
forget your name. Good evening.” And the
stately form'of Petifer bounded off, having vouch
safed the tips of two fingers, and a ramrod sort
of bow.
As for Mr. Lovett, be was rather cheered than
inebriated by the lawyer’s complaisance. Per
haps there was a tinge of gloom in the epistle be
straightway indited toAiniie, who, poor little
soul, was packing up all their household goods
hard and fast in the imagination that they were
going to be suddenly rich and happy.
Alas! what a heaven money makes of this
world ! what a jail, toQ|is existence without it!
Thirty pounds did c < qweatiou i Petifer dedm t
from that all-precious ^Kdred, Still the bal
ance was adequate for pTesent necessities. It
would settle them quite cosily in Lingeville, and
keep bodies and souls together till, Coldhole
being sold, and the debts on St. Mary’s paid
off, the ex-vicar of Mudflat would ascend the
pulpit to enlighten a fashionable audience—
and pocket their pew-rents.
The day following was spent by Mr. Lovett
in a hunt after suitable apartments, which se
cured, he returned to his old vicarage to wish
bis flock farewell. He had requested Canon
Grabbe to reply to his letter at Mudflat. Great,
then, was his pain and discomfiture to find that
the Canon’s letter had preceeded him; and hav
ing been opened and read by his wife, bad caused
that lady no small suffering and alarm.
She met him, however, like a true wife, with
an attempt to suppress tears, which obtruded
through artificial smiles, the dignitary s epistle
in her hand.
It ran as follows:
“Canon Grabbe has to inform Mr. Lovett that
the Dean and Chapter of Blankton, having al
ready presented Mr. Blackley to the Vicarage of
Mudflat, can take no further action in the mat
ter. Canon Grabbe farther is of opinion that
clergy who enter into simoniacal dealings in re
gard to their preferment are justly entitled to
any loss they may suffer.”
A very black look came over Mr. Lovett’s face
as he perused this effusion. “What shameless
impudence!” be explained.
But poor Adine was sobbing on his breast.
“What have you done, dearest Dore? What
dreadful crime have you committed? Oh! do
tell me!”
“My dear,” said her husband solemnly, “no
crime, no sin. So far from committing an act
of simony, I have resigned my living uncondi
tionally. I have, indeed, trusted everything to
Blackley's honor. Too much so, indeed, for I
fear I have been deceived."
Little enough did his oft repeated assurances
avail. Adine, with a woman’s quick perception,
realized too much, and was simply stunned by
the weight of the blow. Ruin and disgrace were
staring them in the face, according to her no
tions, and she listened with no small impatience
to his recital of the occurrences in Lingeville
“Did I not always warn you that Horace Black
ley is a villain?”
For once her words seemed to be pregnant
with a mighty meaning.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
VIOLETTA
THE
[COPYBIQHT SbCURED.]
SANTIAGO OUTCAST
A Romance of Cuba.
BY J. R. MUS1CK.
Author of John Jacket, Maggie Notes,
Golden Medal, Won Through
Fire, etc., Ere.
CHAPTER X.—Conclusion.
Hope seemed now to desert even the breast of
Albert. However, bis features were calm, his
teeth firmly set, and with the spirit of the truly
brave man, he resolved to “ sell his life as dear see if you can recognize any feature that is fa
The remainder of our party paused, com
pletely astounded.
Senor Gastello, for it was in truth he who led
the conquering force, paused completely won-
derstruck.
“Great heavens, Violetta, is it indeed you?”
he cried, springing forward and clasping his
fair daughter in his arms, and raing his kisses
on her cheeks.
“My husband, oh my husband, do you not
know me?” cried the poor disfigured woman,
now coming to the side of her husband and
child.
“Who are you ?’’ demanded Senor Castello,
gazing on her with a look of suspicion.
“Oh, Fernando!” cried the poor being, as if
! her heart was rent in twain, “has torture and
suffering so changed your once loved Cassaline,
1 that you do not know her?” She tore her veil
away, revealing a face that Lad once been mar
velously beautiful; but now so marked with
pain and suffering as to be hardly recognizable.
“Look on me now, Fernando,” she added, “and
as possible.
Madge begged that they would give her a gun,
that she might participate in the coming
straggle. As there was more than enough to
supply the men, our hero gave her one of the
rifles.
“Come on, come on,” she hissed as she
clutched the gun firmly. “Thank Heaven! I
learned to fire a gun; now, devil of a Castino,
your doom is sealed.”
miliar.
Senor C.istellc could hardly believe his own
eyes. Before him stood his wife; but oh what
a change. The last time he had seen her she
was wondrously beautiful; now her hair, then
olack as midnight, was almost white as the
driven snow. Her face then round, fair and
dimpled, was now sallow and wrinkled.
“Cassaline, my own, my darling wife; but, oh
j God ! how changed. Great heavens, how you
I’ll be darned if that old she-wolf wont
fight,” said Simon.
Albert placed the girls back out of immediate
danger, much against their will, however; for
they too expressed a strong desire to share the
coming conflict with their lovers. | mother's neck. “Why“did you not reveal your
The Spanish troops marched steadily and ] self to me before ? ’
regularly up the hill, and were almost in gun j “My sweet child,” said the poor mother, “I
range, when the loud “ boom ” of a cannon at j registered a vow in Heaven, never to reveal my-
must have suffered,’ cried the noble Spaniard,
clasping the emaciated form of his wife to his
heart.
“My mother, my own dear mother,” cried
our heroine, throwing her arms around her
sea broke on the air
Instantly both friends and foes turned their
eyes seaward.
A large full-rigged and well manned schooner,
was seen rounding a headland, and making
toward Castino’s vessel.
Instantly all was confusion on the Spanish
ship. Drums were beat, men mustered to quar
ters, and the flag of Spain run up at the mast
bead. The gun was also turned in such a man
ner as to range on the new cornel.
self to any one until all our wrongs had been
avenged. And now, husband, he, the cause of
all our woes, lies dead upon yonder hill.
Heaven’s judgment has overtaken him, as it
will, ere long, his associate Bnrriel.
The remainder of our party now came up,
and were introduced to Castello and his men.
Senor Castello had returned to this island
with a crew of the Insurrectionists after his
treasure, which was buried there. Seeing a
Spanish schooner, he attacked it, little dream-
But what could all this mean? What was i ing he was saving the lives of his wife and
Wallacetown’s Tragedy.—At noon on Novem
ber 3, 1876, Mariah J. Waple left her home in
Wallacetown, Clearfield county, to visit her
sister-in-law, who lived near by. In the even
ing the neighbors were attracted to her house
by the crying of her little child. They found
her alone, grieving for her still absent mother.
No trace of the missing woman could be found,
for she had not reached her sister-in-law’s house
Next day large squads of citizens searched the
country around. After five days they found her
dead body in a thick growth of wood, nearly a
mile east of the village. It was lying by a small
log, with a rifle ball in the region of the heart
and a heavy charge of btek-shot in the brain.
An inquest was held, and her divorced husband
was suspected. He was tried, but, not proving
an alibi, was acquitted. Suspicion then rested
upon Martin Y. Turner, to alleged lover of hers.
He was arrested, tried atd convicted after six
teen days had been oonssmed in the trial. Ef
forts were made to obtain for him a new trial,
but failing the matter was carried to the Su
preme Court and was called for argument yes
terday. Senator Wallahs is Turner’s counsel
and Thomas H. Murray, Esq., represents the
Commonwealth. When the court adjourned
Senator Wallace had no; concluded his argu
ment The main error lpon which a reversal
of the judgment of the ciiurt below is asked is
that the court at the trial admitted evidence to
■how the criminal intimaiy of the parties.
that vessel that dared fire on the flag of Spain ?
Surely when the colors were shown, she would
desist.
No. “boom," came another shot from her
deck, and the splinters flew from the gun-wale
of the Santiago.
“Boom” went the answering shot from the
long eighteen-pound brass gun.
Again a wreath of smoke curled up from the
forecastle of the straDger, and a ball actually
cut the foremast of the Santiago away.
“ What in the devil’s name can all that
mean ?” hissed Castino.
The soldiers had now halted, and were gaz
ing on the sea fight, which bid fair to be des
perate.
“What can that stiange craft be?” repeated
Castino. “ She does not bear the colors of any
nation.”
The stranger was drawing nearer her adver
sary, and now instead of using round shot, was
sending in grape and canister to the deck of the
Santiago.
Shot after shot was given and returned, and
shout after shout arose from the decks of the
combattants. As they come nearer together,
volleys of small arms were fired.
From their position on the hill our friends
had a good view gf the battle. They saw that
the deck of the Santiago was already strewed
with dtad and wounded.
“What can that strange ship be ?” said Albert,
gazing at it through his glass.
“A pirate, doubtless; she bears no colors,”
replied Hilton.
“I don’t care what she is, she’s doin’ us a
darned good favor about this time, ” replied
Simon.
“Her men are attired like Cuban sailors,”
said Violetta, who had come forward attracted
by the noise of the conflict at sea.
“It may be manned by some of the insurrec
tionists, ” said Hilton. “But that is very lm-
11 otable, for Ido not know of a single ship own
ed by them. ”
The two schooners were about the same size
and equally matched in men and arms, but the
Santiago was thrown into confusion by the sur
prise, from which she never wholly recovered,
during the entire battle.
Nearer, nearer and still nearer, the two vessels
approached, giving broadside for broadside
until they lay beam abeam; then with a fearful
shout, cutlasses in hand, the crew of the strang
er boarded the Santiago, and a fearful hand to
hand conflict ensued.
The Spaniards fought desperately, fought as
men fight for thier lives, but they were hard
pressed by the crew of the stranger.
The rapid discharge of pistols, clash of swords,
shouts of the living, cries of the wounded, and
groans of the dying made a din that was fearful
to hear.
At last beaten back step by step to the stern
of the schooner and only a handful left, they
begged for quarter, which was unconditionally
granted.
“It’s all over with them,” cried Castino who
had been a silent witness to the fearful fight.
“ Our only chance of safety, is to route those
fellows from the rocks, and fortify ourselves
there. Forward, charge ! ”
With deafening shouts intended to intimidat-
our friends, the Spanish soldiers rushed fore
ward, up the hill side.
Again Madge leveled her gun at her deadly
enemy, this time with a strange smile lighting
up her scared features. Nearer they come. All
our friends held their breath; but nine guns
were aimed at the advancing foe.
“Crack!” It was Madge’s rifle, but what is
the effect ?
See, Castino rushes forward, throws his hands
up widly in the air, then presses one to his fore
head; and drops dead to the earth, shot through
the brain.
“ ’Tis done, ’tis done, ” cries Madge dropping
her gun and weeping for joy. “ My enemy is
no more, and thank God, I am free again. ”
Tne soldiers paused and gathered about their
fallen leader. Just at this moment, a puff of
white smoke rolled up from the deck of the
strange vessel, and a shell circling high in the
air, fell and exploded in their very midst, while
the “ boom ” of a heavy gun sounded at sea.
The effect was fearful Nine Spaniards were
killed outright, and as many more wounded. A
scattering fire from our friends put the re
mainder to flight.
They fled down to the beach and there stack
ing their guns, folded their arms showing that
they surrendered.
Two boats loaded with.armed men put off
from the strange vessel and rowed steadily to
the shore.
Our party concluding it best to meet them
iriendly, formed to march down the hill. Si
mon took his place in front with his flag in his
hand. By his side was Adelpha, who had
learned to love the big American, even if she
couldn’t talk “United States.”
The two boats reached the land, and the lead
er with twenty men springs ashore.
“My father, my father,” shrieked Violetta,
rushing down the hill in advanoe of the others.
“My husband, oh my husband," cried the
woman whom we have heretofore known as
Madge, rushing down the hill also.
daughter by doing so.
Little more need be told. Senor Castello’s
hidden treasure was found. The captured
•Spaniards were allowed to bury their dead, were
then put on board their own vessel and sent to
Havana. Whether they reached the port or
not, we are not able to say.
All our friends went on board Senor Castello’s
vessel, and after burying their friends lost in
the fight, they weighed anchor and set sail for
New York; which port they reached about the
23d of December, 1873.
On the fifth day of January, 1874, Albert Ash
brook and Violetta Castello consummated their
marriage vows in New York city; the noble fath
er giving away the bride.
Simon tried hard to teach his “gal” United
States, but failing has employed a professor
from one of our colleges for that business, and
on the last accounts Adelpha was succeeding
verry well. They are to be married as soon as
she has mastered the language.
Senor Castello and his son-in-law will in a
short time open a large wholesale dry-goods es
tablishment on one of the principal streets in
our city.
Lady Castello is slowly recovering, and re
gaining some of her former beauty. Her hus
band says he is willing to forgive Spain for all
she has caused him and his family to suffer.
the end.
Southern Ladies In New York and
Washington.
flow Some of Them Looked and Dressed
Late Entertainments.
at
Miss Lizzie Petit Cutler,, the poetess, receiv
ed on New Year’s day, with her friend, Mrs.
Julius Liszt, 134 West Forty-sixth street. The
interior of this house is extremely artistic, and
is filled with paintings and articles of vertu,
and was further enriched by the floral tributes
of the New Year to the ladies receiving.
Mrs. Cutler wore a long-trained robe, of black
gros gain, with an overdress of puffed illusion
looped with Gloire de Dijon roses. Her hair was
simply parted in front and coiled into a low
Greek knot behind—a style trying to most, but
becoming to her clean cut classic face.
At the meeting of the Literary Society, in
Washington, last week, Mrs. Fassett, the artist,
and Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, the distin
guished novelist, were elected members.
Among the guests, was Mrs. RosaVertner Jeffi-
res, the beautiful Kentucky poetess.
Miss Reba Gregory, of Houston Texas, was
one of the two young ladies, who assisted Mrs.
Martha Lamb, the historian, to receive over
three hundred gentlemen, callers at Mrs. Lamb’s
elegant private parlors, at the Coleman House,
New York. Miss Gregory wore a becoming
costume of black velvet and drab silk, relieved
with costly antique white lace.
Mrs Myra Clark Gaines, whose law suit of over
half a century involving millions of New Orleans
property has made her famous, recieved her
friends at the Metropoliton Hotel in Washington
on New Year’s day. She was lively and pleasant
and had a corps of lovely assistants among
whom were the Misses. Shannon of New Orleans;
Miss Ford of Birmingbampton and others.
Miss Vinnie Ream was assisted in recieving
on New Year’s day by Miss Pike daughter of
Albert Pike, and Miss Taylor. Her parlors wers
thronged. Mrs. Rosa Vertner Jefferies with her
daughters and other ladies recieved many calls,
and also gave a brilliant entertainment in the
evening.
Mrs. General Eaton, widow of General Jack
son’s Secretary of War, received many callers at
338 Pennsylvania Avenue, all those who of her
history and location being anxious to meet a
woman who, almost half a century ago, created
such a stir in the highest social and political
circles, and to whom the highest foreign officials
paid homage. She is full of life still, and shows
the remains of that beauty for which she was so
noted. Mrs. Eaton wore black silk, adorned
with white lace, and upon her breast was a min
iature of President Jackson framed in gold.
Marrying His Father's Wife.—The special
dispatch to the Evening News yesterday, an
nouncing the elopement of a Kentucky gentle
man with his stepmother, and their marriage at
New Albany, has proved substantially true. Mr,
Thomas H. Ellis, the junior proprietor of the
Ellis house, Bardstown Ky., and Mrs. Mollie E.
Ellis are the dramatic persons of this little sen
sation. Whether the elder Ellis is alive or not
we cannot presume to say, and if he is, we would
just like to know his opinion of women in gen
eral and sons in particular. The parties seem
apparently well-to-do people, and the unnatural
son lavished considerable money on his wife,
who no doubt liked him better as a dear “hub
by” than a cold-hearted step-son.
— A burglar who attempted to force an en
trance to the house of David Armstrong, near
Vincennes, was beaten by Aimstrong over the
head with a pair of tongB. The bursliur was
driven away, but soon returned, armed with a
pitchfork, and renewed the attack. He was
again beaten with the tongs, and was Anally
arrested.