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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.