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GREEN-EYED Jr E A. Hi O TJS1T- A Clandestine Marriage. COMPLETE INTO) NUMBERS. BY WM. H. P. Bert Gadogan, Judie and I had our picnic on a sward of velvet moss flung like an emerald tapestry upon the mountain slope, a spot girt with beauty, and studded with lofty trees for sentinels. It was not muoh of a picnic in an edible way. Mr. Gadogan had put some biscuits in his haver sack, which when we had completed our ascent, we ate with appetite, and wished for more. It was Mr. Gadogan who proposed the excur sion. upon this last day of Judie’s stay. It m- volved quite a rough bit of mountain climbing, but both Judie and he had had experience. Judie showed her little fee* in boots which she had worn among the pyramids and up the 10 Semite, and Mr. Cadogan’s alpenstook was a re minder of perils and adventures in Switzerland. “Do you think you are equal to the ascent, Miss Laura?” he had inquired; and I had re plied that one never knew what one could achieve until one had tried. . I did not occur to me that perhaps my friend and my guest would as soon go without me. Strange that it did not. But no; it would have been strange if it had. We spent the cool September morning over our work, while Mr. Cadogan read to us, and told us blood-curdling stories of Alpine adven tures, to steady our nerves for the task before us. “You never have told me where you became acquainted with your friend, Laura, said Mr. Gadogan, sleepily, during Judie’s temporary absence from where we were sitting. “At boarding-school. We were room-mates, and belonged to the same class.” “Ah yes. Somehow I cannot keep in mind that you were a whole year away from here once. I was away three years, and yet when I came back I could have sworn that not an hour had passed since I left you sitting in that very chair —just as you sit now. It was June when I went away, June when I came back,” said Bert Cadogan, scrutinizing me in a preocnpied way. “ I believe you wore the self-same white dress, Laura, the self-same spray twisted in your hair. I doggedly keep a vague notion in my head that you slept, like the enchanted Princess, through those years of my absence.” I felt delicious floods of crimson tingling my cheeks and temples as Bert Cadogan talked. It was not so much what he said as what he left un said. If I were the enchanted princees, he must be the “fated fairy prince.,, He was all that to my imagination. His fancy, too, came near enough to truth to feed my dreams upon. Life had been little better than a long dull sleep, so long as he was away. “You do not accord much credit to Madame Blande," I said. She thought my year’s absence from home improved me vastly.” “Laura,” said Mr. Cadogan, seriously, “you are not susceptible of improvement in my eyes.” I might have thought, from his tone, that these words meant what they would mean from most men to a woman. But he had said the same to me many times before. I only looked up shyly, too plainly showing my pleasure, and met the expression of his great brown eyes fixed upon me. “Is it possible?" I said. “Because I wear old-fashioned dresses here at home, and twist my hair up like a mermaid, I am to infer that artistic dress would not improve me, as it does other people. When Judie is married I am go ing to have my dress imported from Paris, and you will see what a change it will make.” Bert Cadogan started visibly; his face looked petrified. “Is-Miss Martindale going to be married?” be asked speaking her name with an effort. “ I suppose so, sometime,” I returned curtly. “Oh, I thought you referred to something definite.” At that moment Judie came back. Possibly she had heard a portion of our conversation, or else the emphasis of our voice attracted her notice. She looked at Mr. Cadogan sharply, but he did not return the look. At that moment our early dinner was announc ed, at an hour later we set out upon our tramp. It was a delicious mid-day. We walked gaily along the road for a mile. At last, out of floods of sunshine, out of the fresh air with its winey fragrance, we turned into the cool shadows of the wood that lay at the base of the mountain. When the climbing grew difficult I needed a good deal of Mr. Cadogan's help. Judie sprang nimbly on alone. I remember her looking back from time to time,her tartan plaid wound about her.her whole form instinct with fierce grace and beauty. I wondered with a pang if any man could admire me in contrast with Judie Martindale. By dint of hard climbing at length we stood panting upon the summit. “Does it pay for the doing, Miss Martindale?” said Mr. Cadogan, as she threw herself down to rest. “There is just room enough here to live and to die,” she said, in a cynical voice. “ Alone?” said Bert Cadogan, with a meaning. “I have always dreamed of such a spot as this,” continued Judie. “I believe you may leave me here to-night. The papers will record a mysterious disappearance, and I shall be at peace." “ I should be so curious to see how you would play hermit that I should intrude upon your re treat” “I never heard you talk so much nonsense be fore, Judie,” I said pettishly. There was an under-current in Mr. Cadogan’s talk with Judie that day which I had never heard before, and which pained me strangely. During the month that Judie had been with me I had not thought of being jealous. Now, just as she was to go away, I felt uneasily the exist ence of some secret sympathy between her and Bert Cadogan. And if there was, had I any right to gainsay it ? Certainly not—no right at all. But I was annoyed all the same, and chose to hold myself aloof from them. It was sombre and cool as we prepared to de scend. “ People of my capacity can go down hill if they choose,” I said, declining Mr. Cadogan’s offered hand, and running forward alone. He offered no remonstrance, letting me have my own way. In my excitement I went so rapidly that I outstripped my companions and was obliged to wait for a moment or two for them to come up. Very leisurely they came, as though they were enjoying their opportunity; then the sound of their voices came on my strained ear, rapid, earnest, hushed, and I saw their faces— hers flushed with agitation, her lovely eyes full of tears; his tender, pitiful, beseeching—not the same face that Bert Cadogan had ever turned toward me. My brains reeled with a sudden madness. Ills love after all was for her, not me. Dullard that 1 had been not to suspect them till to day ! I turn ed blindly, my heart knocking against my breast. The whole earth grew dark and desolate. I plunged recklessly along. Suddenly a careless foothold failed me ; I slippel and fell. The blackness and giddiness were real. Then con sciousness went out with a sharp, wrenching pain, and when it returned after an interval 1 heard strange, subdued voices, and felt a recurrence of fthe pain. 1 knew feebly that I was being carried upon a litter, towards home, and then I knew no more. It was my back that had been injured in my fall. I should recover my health deformed. Thai was the verdict that came to me when the white frost of winter glittered in the sunshine of those weary days. Judie had gone home now. She had stayed till I was out of danger, and nursed me so tenderly, they said. I shuddered. The thought of her tenderness stung me afresh. She sent long letters every week, and budgets of papers and reviews, her father’s speeches, letters in which she was mentioned, her toilets described, and then sheet after sheet containing accounts of her gaieties, of the people she met, the sights she saw. Never was there more cruel kindness. She meant well, but what was her rehearsal but a taunt —a reminder that I was shut out forever from the scene she graced. I had one sweet comfort through all. Mr. Cadogan had not followed Judie, and every day brought me some token of his pitying remem brance. When I was able to receive visitors I saw him often. He brought the magazines and read to me. He tried over the new music which waited for my nerveless fingers; he surrounded me with a sense of our mutual sympathy and kindred tastes, as he had done ever since I was old enough to love him with a woman’s passion. We had a long, late summer that year, and I went out of doors for the first time since my acci dent, on a lovely, balmy afternoon. The doctor had forbidden my walking, and a chair had been made for me which I could propel at will. In that I was carried into the garden and left alone. Mr. Cadogan. I hoped he would disobey me, but he did not. The winter set in rigorously, with all the dreariness of winter in a mountainous region, and my mental excitement hindered my improve ment. But still I did improve. About Christmas I walked across the room— walked up to a pier-glass at the extreme eud, scrutinized my altered form, my painful move ments, with horror ; and when I reached the glass, I fainted away. Bert Cadogan was in the room. “Your mind is diseased more than your body,” he said when I had revived and grown calm. “Why not accept Miss Martindale’s invitation, and go to the oily for a few weeks?” “I am a beautiful object for city society,” I sneered ; “and then,” with an after-thought that swept my brain with a terrific gust, “I have never told you that Judie had invited me for this winter. How did you know it ? I meant to keep it from you, lest you should want me to go.” “Miss Martindale mentioned in one of her let ters that she should expect to see you, and that you might live as retired as you liked.” “Iu one of her letters? You and she corres pond, then?” “Occasionally.” “I did not know it.” He made no reply, and I changed the subject, but all night I tossed sleeplessly, fevered with speculation as to why Judie wrote letters to Bert Cadogan. Oh, these vigils of sickness! They are a fore-tasteof the Inferno. One good thing came, however. I made a resolution — a resolution to get well. As a preliminary step, I resolved upon the visit to town. Mr. Cadogan would be sure to Judie looked at me sharply but I did not return the look. A well-known step came up the walk by-and-by, and Mr. Cadogan joined me before I could dry the tears which were in my eyes. He stood beside me, and laid his hand on mine —my white looking little hand which rested on the arm of my chair. “YVhat is the matter, little Laura?” “ ‘The days that are no more, Mr. Cadogan,” I quoted. “Have you regrets?” he asked. “That is a strange, cruel question. What have I but regrets ? 1 have lost everything.” “What do you mean by that, Laura? Y'ou have not lost me.” “Perhaps not yet. Deformed people retain their friends through pity, I believe. But 1 hate pity.” “Y’ou have made a strange, cruel speech now. Y'ou are not deformed. I am not your friend. And I do not pity you, Laura. 1 pity your suf ferings, but I love you.” I felt the red blood rush to my cheeks. “You love me?” I repeated slowly, almost sceptically. “Mr. Cadogan, are you not Judie Martindale" s lover ?” It was his turn to flush. I was watching him with jealous eyes, and I saw the change that crossed his countenance, saw him control it before he answered with a smile: “No, Laura, I have not that honor.” “I am not fit for your love now!” I cried bit terly. “Did you think it was your beauty alone that won my hear 1 , darling?” “I don’t know what may have won your heart, Mr. Cadogan. I don’t feel that I have any claim on it. Once you might have loved me, when I was fresh and strong. But you did not. And now that I am maimed and twisted—a helpless, hope less invalid—there is something that smacks of self-sacrifice in your love, and I will not have it.” “Y'ou will have it, Laura, always; you can not help that. You will return it, too, for 1 will make you. Whether you will accept me as your lover, whether you wiil marry me, I must leave to time." I was weak and babyish. I cried. “If this had come before—oh, Bert, you little know how I have loved you—how I have tortured myself believing you loved another. But now it is too late—too late 1” “You are gloomy and fanciful. Your hurt is not incurable. If it were, it has not spoiled your beauty, as you insist. Y’ou are pale—the white- rose pallor I admire ; and, as to the twist in your shoulder, it will come right in good time; the doc tor assures me so.” He had consulted the doctor, then. He was going to take me on the strength of his assurance. “YVe will wait .and see,” I returned, briefly, and I turned the crank which moved my chair. “You are going, Laura?” “Yes.” “Then you do not care for me. Your excuse is mere subterfuge.” I looked once in his face. I dared to look and let him see my love. But then he must have seen it a hundred times before. “Make me a promise,” I said. “Do not talk of love to me again till I am well.” “Laura—and if—” “If I am never well ? Then you must never speak of it.” I had put s harder task upon myself than upon follow me thither, and 1 would see him and Judie face to face. (concluded next week.) Sketches of Southern Literature. Southern W liters and Authors. THE PAST AND PRESENT. NO- 6. By JUDGE W ILLIAM ARCHER COCKE, of Florida. Author of the Constitutional History of United Stales and Common and Civil Law in United States. The Life of John Randolph, of Roanoke, by Hugh A. Garland; while it does not adequately portray the mind and character of that eccentric genius and brilliant orator, is nevertheless a work of some merit, and is executed with very good taste, as far as mere composition is in volved. It is interesting in many points of civil history, instructing to the ordinary reader, and well deserves a favorable mention with the bet ter class of Southern literary works, and would stand very high if the author had studied accu racy, as much as he did rhetoric. There are but few works of Memoir, more in structive and interesting than “Recollections and Private Memoirs of Washington,” by the venerable G. W. P. Custis. It is written in the very best taste, and introduces the reader to the every day life and habits of Washington. The Life and Correspondence of James Ire dell, of North Carolina, by G. J. McRae, is a well prepared work, containing the history of an able member of the Supreme Court of the United States, interspersed with some very good literary papers, and correspondence. From the graceful and elegant pen of M. Scheie de Yere, of the University of Virginia, we have a work of rare merit and learning on Comparative Philology; one of the most beauti ful branches of learning connected with the languages, and especially interesting as exhib iting to the student the great family alliance between the languages of the world; showing not only a common stock, from which the ve hicles of the thoughts of men sprang, but fur nishing a strong and beautiful argument in favor of the unity of the races. Wm. Von Hum boldt, whom the great Alexander fondly loved as a brother, and as proudly acknowledged as a colaborer in the realms of science, was the first of European scholars to methodize and classify the learning of Comparative Philology, and place it among the schools of exalted philoso phy. M. Scheie de Vere has exhibited perhaps mere general research; having traced by lin guistic analysis the similarity of more than eighty languages, embracing the different groups of the leading families. He also delineates with a distinct pencil the causes of the changes ftnd decay of languages, which necessarily involved a deep learning in the study of Humanities, and concurrent history. Among the remarkable features of this great literary work is the beauty and purity of its composition. So distinot, so luminous, so accurate in all the rhetorical re quisitions of an English style, that the most fastidious critio could not discover that the author was not writing in his own mother tongue. We would like very much to produce an extended review of this work, but think it better at this time to recommend it to the edu cated readers of the country as a chef d'amvre in this youthful but promising and important science. This erudite scholar has also published a Spanish Grammar, which has been highly ac ceptable. • He also is the author of a work of brilliancy, and beauty, based upon scientific observations gathered in extensive travels, entitled “Stray Leaves from the Book of Nature.” Gesner Harrison, who for many years adorned the chair of Ancient Languages at the Universi ty of Virginia, published a work of great learn ing on the laws of Latin language. An Atlas of the ancient kingdoms of the world, unequaled in minuteness, accuracy, and full ness, was published by this American savan; and exihihits a surprising familiarity with every feature of ancient geography—the sim qva non to the true knowledge of acient history. The following just compliment to Dr. Harri son is from the pen of E. G. Goynes, of William and Mary’s College He was indeed pre-eminent ly excellent in all the best qualities of the man and of the teacher, and there are thousands who may not read these words that would gladly join in this acknowledgement; for he was both honored and beloved by all who came within the sphere of his influence. For thirty years he taught as Professor in the University of Virginia, the past and living generation in the South, and the loss by his retirement was irreparable to the University, as it is now by his death to the coun try. It were almost superfluous to speak in this generation of his excellent qualities of character; and the characteristics of his mind—his thor oughness of investigation, his profound analysis, acumen in comparison and deduction, his close and clear reasoning, and his s mplicity and con scientious accuracy and candor of statement, are too deeply impressed upon all his works, and too clearly illustrated by his pre-eminent success as a teacher, to require more tnan a mention here. It is to he noped that such a man will not be permitted to fall unnoticed, but that in quieter times hereafter some one cf his many pupils will yet do public justice to his character and professional career. The endur ing value of his life’s work cannot be over-esti mated. He was the pioneer of true philology and classical education in the South—the first to abandon the old superficial system and to lay the foundation, against prejudices and difficul ties almost insurmountable, of new and pro founder methods, for which not only classical phiology, but all the branches of education in the South, will ever owe him lasting obligations. Thomas It. Dew, first the graduate, then the President of William and Mary College, de serves a high position in the temple of Southern Literature. His learning was extensive, his lit erary taste elegant, and severely cultivated. He was the first in this country or Europe to pub lish a seperate and elaborate treatise on the in fluence and tendency of restrictive laws upon trade and commerce. This work placed him among the first political economists of America, and was favorably received by the political writers of Europe. He was the first in the United States who published an elaborate essay in favor of negro slavery, Benj. Watkins Leiga, the statesman and jurist, having preceded him by the publication of his celebrated Appomat tox Letters on the same subject. Dew’s Lectures on the Restrictive System, and his essay on Slavery were used as text books at YVilliam and Mary College, and exercised a large and healthful influence in shapirg the sentiments of the South towards a true appreci ation of its most vital interests. Oth r papers from his pen have been highly creditable alike to the writers and Southern literature, and ap peared from time to time in the Southern Lite rary Messenger;among them may be mentioned; one on the “Influence of the Confederative Sys tem of Government on Literature;” and a series of papers on the moral, and mental characteris tics of woman. His notes, on ancient and mod ern history, designed for the use of his classes; constitute the best manual for historical studies we have yet seen; the plan is original, and the most suggestive that could be adopted, for those who design either an acquaintance with de- taohed historic periods, or have the leisure and the taste for the pursuit of a systematic and continuous course of ancient and modern his tory. Among the graceful, accomplished, and elo quent contributions to our literature, are the va rious works of Beverly Tucker; Professor of Law at William and Mary College—we will find occasion to mention him in other fields of Liter ature; in this connection we will refer to his Lectures on the Science of Government; deliv ered to his classes at college, and afterwards published; apart from the beauty and spirit of the composition, they have many deep touches of philosophy, and political ethics, which com mend them to the student, and the man of let ters. We may also introduce in this connection a work on the Constitution of the United States by Henry St. George Tucker; a brother of Bev erly, also to be mentioned in other fields of in tellectual labor. The work now alluded to, is an elaborate and careful review of Judge Story’s Commentaries on the Constitution of the United States, in which he examines with minute his torical research, and the profound investiga tions of a jurist, and a philosopher, the State- right principles, as contended for by the emi nent men of the Sonth. “A brief inquiry,” by AhelP. Upshaw, one of the Judges. OUR KENTUCKY DEPARTMENT. Conducted by Jos. B. Cottrell, D.D. In our engagement with the Sunny Sooth, which obliges us to contribute weekly to its columns items of interest from the State of Kentucky, as they may be gathered through correspondence, from the press and by personal observation, the prospect of speaking, ez cathedra, to hundreds of old friends throughout Alabama, Florida and Miss issippi—indeed, throughout the whole South—is pleasant and inspiriting. We are assured by the editors that it is their pleasure to have us write in perfect freedom ; and therefore there is no let or hindrance to the utterance of whatever may occur to us as true and likely to be of interest or profit. Realizing that there is nothing so very true but that there is somewhat else quite as true, and that there are limitations, modifications and ad justments requisite to the complete rounding off of that which, in varied unity, constitutes true wisdom, we shall give our say from our individual standpoint, with deference to those who occupy other standpoints, aud who say, iu regard to the same things, differently from us. Much that will occur to us we will take the liberty of not saying. A masterly refrain, as well as ingenuous deliver* erance of opinion and sentiment, as each in its turn is judicious, should characterize a public speaker or writer. Correspondents will address us at Russellville, Kentucky. Items only, for a few weeks, for this depart ment. After a while we shall have articles of a little more length. Russellville, one of tne oldest towns of the State, illustrated by Clay and Breckenridge, is the seat of two colleges—a male college in flourish ing condition, under an admirable faculty (con trolled by the Baptists), and Logan Female College, under the auspices of the Louisville Conference of the M. E. Church, South. Dr. Stark, President, has signalized this institution by an original and independent method, making the study of the English language, historically and philologically, the salient feature of the curriculum. Though a wise Latin and Greek scholar himself, after years of teaching, he is convinced that he now pursues the best method, and the fruits are shown in the annual registers. The heartiest commendations have been elicited from the foremost scholars and educators in America and Europe. Russellville has, in the “Belle of Kentucky Flour Mill,” one of the best in the United State, and the heavy shipments to all the large cities of the South attests its popularity ; and to have a prince ly gentleman like Col. Nimrod Long, who knows how to utilize to noble purposes success in busi ness, as the proprietor of such an enterprise, is a blessing to his town and to the country at large. The “ Courier Journal,” in a late editorial, rather below the average of that royal paper, takes to task the clergy for not having their sermons smell stronger of sulphur. It thinks it Will take flashes of tire from below to run the wretches who are now so lawless aloft. It may be that the doc trine of a good old orthodox hell would not be out of place at all; but, then, it takes much ef true gentleness and benevolence to make such a factor effective. Everybody in Kentucky, that reads at all, reads the daily “ Courier-Journal,” if in reach of it, and of late, we have been specially proud of the con sideration it has had throughout the United States. A brief editorial, crisp and to the point, as Wat- terson ever writes, giving warning to the arro gant bondholders, has literally shaken the foun dations. The organs of the generous patrons of the government (save the mark !) howled long and loud. But “ whatsoever maketh manifest is light.” It is a good thing for the country when the editor of a journal that controls public opinion sees things in a dry light. Owensboro, Kentucky, is perhaps the most rap idly improving city in the State; has two of the best papers, the “Messenger” and the “Exam iner ”—but, oh ! why so slow in building churches commensurate with her need ? The Baptists alone have reached up to that mark. Do the Methodists come next ? The snow ! the snow ! the beautiful— January 3, 1878. Fashion Notes. Ball dresses of tulle have humming birds for trimmings. New portmonnaies have a place for a picture on the cover. The latest albums have a handle attached, by which they may be held. A pretty and new device for the toilet-table is a bird cologne holder. Whole toilet sets are shown in filagree silver, and are the prettiest things out. Orange blossoms for bridal dresses are per fumed with the essence of the flower. Bunches of orange blossoms are placed on the instep of the satin shoes worn by brides. The newest reception dresses are made of the Duchess brocade, iu either pale pink, blue, or cream color. A ribbon an inch and a half wide, around the waist, tied in a bow in front, is worn with the Princess dress. Chinese and Japanese vie with each other for supremacy in decorations, almost to the exclu sion of other styles. New photograph stands are in the shape of an open book held by a Cupid, the bookstand and Cupid all in gilt. White lace mittens are more stilish for even ing wear than kid gloves; they afford an oppor tunity for a fine display of rings. Mr. Fechter made his reappearance in New York, at the Broadway Theatre, in “Monte Cris- to," awakening that enthusiasm natural on the return of an actor of snoh acknowledged gifts. There is but little change iu Mr. Fechter’s ideal of the Count of Monte Cristo. His pro nunciation of the language is somewhat improv ed, perhaps, and his power to grasp picturesque and passionate situations deepened, PERSONALS. Wm. E. Chandler denies that Mr. A. G. Bless ing is A. Great Blessing. Jim Bennett will publish the Herald in New York and the ’Erald in London. Ex-Govenor Bullock was acquitted, after thirty minutes, by a Georgia jury. A San Francisco young man stabbed his mother; “breakfast wasn’t ready.” Archibald Gordon, of Granville, N. C., is the father of twenty-seven sons, by one wife. Sothern is adapting Ikkiesiazousia, one of Aristophanes’ comedies, for the stage. It is a rousing Greek chorus, and all the female char acters are stipulated to be brunettes. Blondes to the rear! Labouchere, the editor of London Truth, Was attache of the British legation here Ijonce, after- wards-member of parliament, for Middlesex, and has essayed, unsuccessfully, of conrse, the atrical management. Thnrlow Weed had a dangerously bad fall on the ice, crossing Union Square. This is the second in three months, and serious consequen ces are feared. Mr. Weed is eighty years of age, but mentally active, The Pope continues to improve in health, and his physician is now of the opinion that his Holiness will soon recover the use of his legs. On Friday, his Holiness formally received the Cardinals in his bed-room. Drew, the temperance reformer, commenced operations on the East Side, at Des Moins, last night, getting over eight hundred signers to the pledge. Several weeks’ work on the West Side netted over four thousand recruits to the bine ribbon. Beecher’s church pews brought $37,000 this year. Last year, 847,000; 1870, §63,680; 1875, $70,310; 1874, $59,430; 1873, §60,230. Put on the brake, Mr. Beecher; yon are on the down grade. Captain Eads has secured his second install ment The report of Generals Bernard and Wright is strongly in favor of the work. They say that there is a channel nowhere less than 200 feet wide and 23 feet deep, from the Sonth Pass to the deep water of the Gulf. A dispatch from Paris annonnees the death of General Consin-Montauban de Palikao, and Francois Vincent Raspail, two men who have figured somewhat prominently in recent times in France. The Edinburg Scotsman’s London correspon dent understands that Lord Derby will inform Prince Gortchakoff that the British Government is decidedly opposed to Russia making peace without the conditions being first communica ted to England a and the other great powers.