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3 mm The Old, Old Story. BY MAKY PATTON HU DS0N. ‘Stephen, do you believe in it ? •No, I suppose not; there are few things in which I have any faith, but I have not the hon or just now of knowing to what you refer.’ Kate Vance laughed, and said: •I mean this poem of George Arnold’s—‘Intro spection’—shall I read it to you ? ‘Yes, Kate.' A musical voice, that was sufficiently pathetic to give the proper tone to the poet’s fancy, read, with measured intonations that could not fail to please the hearer: “Have yon sent her back her letters? Have you given her back herring? Have you tried to forget the haunting songs that yon loved to hear her sing ? Have you cursed the day you met her first, thanked God that you were free, And said i.. your inmost heart, as you thought, she nev er was dear to me ? You have cast her off, your pride is touched; you fancy that all is done: That for you the world isbright again,and bravely shines the sun; You have washed your hands of passion, yon have whis tled her down the wind — Oh, Tom, old friend, this goes before, the sharpest comes behind! Yes; the sharpest is yet to come, for love is a plant that never dies; Its roots are deep as the earth itself; its branches wide as the skies, And wherever once it has taken hold, it flonrishes ever more, * Blossoming still, and bearing its beautiful fruit with the bitter core. ‘‘You will learn this, Tom, hereafter, when anger has cooled, and you Have time for introspection; yon will find my words are true. Yon will sit and gaze in yonr fire alone, and fancy that you can see Her face, with its classic oval, her ringlets fluttering free, Her soft blue eyes wide open, her sweet red lips apart, As she used to look iu the golden days,when you dreamed she bad a heart; Whatever you do, wherever you turn, you will see that glorious lace, Coming with shadowy beauty, to haunt all time and space. Those songs you wrote for her singing will sing them selves into your brain, Till your life seems set to their rythm and yonr thoughts to their refrain— Their old, old burden of love and grief—the passion you have torsworu— I tell you. Torn, it is not thrown off so well as yon think this morn. Bnt the worst, perhaps the worst of all, will be when the day is flown— When darkness favors reflection and yonr comrades leave you aloue; You will try to sleep, but the memories of nnforgotteu years Will come with the storm of wild regrets—mayhap with a storm of tears. Each look, each word, each playful tone, each timid little caress, The golden gleams of her ringlets, the rustling of her dies., The delicate touch of her ungloved hand, that awoke an exquisite thrill; The flowers sue gave on the night of the ball—I think yon treasure them still. All these will come till you slumber, worn out by sheer despair, And then you will hear vague echoes of song on the dark ened air— Yagne echoes, rising and falling, of the voice yon knew so well. Like the songs that were snug by the Lttrlie maids— sweet, with a deadly spell. ‘■In dreams her heart will ever again be yours, and yon will see Fair glimpses of what might have been, what now can never be; And as she comes to meet yon, with a sudden, wild un rest. You stretch your arms forth lovingly to told her to your breast, But the Lurlie song will faint and die, and with its fading tone You wake to And you clasp the thin and empty air alone. While the lire-beils dunging dissonance on the gusty, night-wind borne. Will seem an iron-tongned demon’s voice laughing y.'.ur grief to scorn. Ah, Tom, you say it is over—you talk of letters and rings, Do yon think that love's mighty spirit, then, is held by such trifling thi gs ? No; if you oDce have truly loved, you will still love on, 1 know, Till the church-yard myrtles M ostom above and yon lie mute below. ‘•How ts it, I wonder, hereafter? Fallh teaches ns no little here, If ihe din s we have loved and lost on earth—do yon think they wnl still he dear ? Shall we live the lives we might have led? Shall those who are revered now Remember the pledge of a lower sphere and renew the broken vow ? It almost drives me wild when I think of the gifts we throw away, Unthinking whether or no we lose life's honey and wine lor aye 1 But then, again,’tis a mighty joy, greater than 1 can tell— Xo trust that the parted may sometime meet—that all again may be well. However it he, I bold that all the evil we know on earth Finds in this violence done to love, its true and legiti- ii ate birth - And the agonies we suffer when the heart ip l"ft alone. For every siu of humanity should ireely and well atone. Kate Vance raised her eyes to the face of her companion, and was startled by its pallor and the smouldering lire in his dark brown eye. He did not say a word for a long time. At length, ’ ancQbis voice tremble: ‘Cousin Kate, you have been my confidante since we were children together, and I divided my stolen fruit with yon; through all the sun shine and shadow of my maturer years, and now I mean to tell you why I am so changed, why all the whilom joy is gone from my life, and the pained, hard look, of which you speak, will be explained. You know you used to rally me often on my want of constancy when I had half a dozen pretty faces, shrined in my heart, not really knowing which maiden owned its loyalty, Wall, my story will prove how little you knew me, Kate, and how little I knew my self. It is not much to tell—to me it is a great deal—but, after all, not worth your while to hear.’ ‘Hush; Stephen, dear, what troubles you is pain to me; what is much to you is little less to me. Lot me hear it now.’ He wheeled his chair to the window. The snow was drifting against the outside sill; the fire was blaziDg cheerily on the hearth, and cousin Kate was knitting silk into a mesh for grandma's ball of yarn. ‘I have sometimes thought it very strange, Kate, that God, who cares for even a sparrow's fall, should let such trilling things as these for ever mar a human life; but, like everything else, it is inscrutible, and may be for the best, though in myjstate of bitterness, 1 ought not to trust myself to juiige. Here,' and he tossed a velvet-cased piciure to his cousin, who found it contained a vignette, the loveliest face she had ever seen. Of course, this intensified the inter est she felt in the story he was about to tell. The head was turned over the bare left shouktar, the face wearing an air of archness that wasvn- effably sweet and captivating. The lips were full and had a certain character of their own, and the eyes were simply wonderful- large and dark, that held the far-off shadow of a smile, and resembled stroDgly the color of her hair— bronze-brown,that was worn in short,loose waves around a clitsnic brow M jua-Lisa-iike io rare ness of perfect grace. The whole face and expres sion was that of an intensely dangerous, beau tiful woman, who knew her power as well as you. Kate Vance indulged in a loDg-drawn sigh. ‘Did she give you the picture, Stephen ? ’ He smiled sadly. ‘No, I paid a good round snm for it, the artist asking an equivalent for his conscience qualms, for disposing of a cus tomer’s picture. You cannot imagine what a friend I made of this. I confided to it all my speculations, hopes, and disappointments, nntil I bad woven its beauty into every dream of my life. When 1 was sad it cheered me ; when I .was gay it gave new brightness to my mood, I traveled about for several years, this face my constant companion, I kept it over my heart until it became almost a part of it, I always felt sure I would some time see the original—a sort of prophecy you might call it—but I never had any confidant about this hope that was so dear to me. Even yon, Kate, would have scoffed at me and called me mad, I fancy that many women have dotted me in their minds an impu dent Bohemian, for the manner in wnich I looked them in the face, whilst in search of my fair ‘Irenda,’ Every woman with ffoe eyes and noble month came in for a share of this inspec tion, and consequently, you may imagine the disappointments that fell to my lot, Bnt oue day ; ah ! to me that day of days! The snow was drifting the streets and gutters, and piling itself feet deep against the houses in Chestnut street. Just such a day as this. It was with difficulty I could maintain my footing on the glassy sidewalk. Burdened with an ulster, fur, and umbrella, it required all my patience and care to keep clear of other pedestrians, and I was just wondering if, at the speed I was mak ing, I conld ever reach the hotel; when, as I turned a corner of the street, I saw an elegant equipage drawn before a handsome honso, the coachman making frantic efforts to hold his restless horses and open the carriage door for a lady to alight. Seeing his distress, I forgot my own impatience ; gave over the Jehu to his fractious steeds ; relieved the lady of her extra wraps, and gave her my hand while I dexter- oasly held her trailing dress from the carriage steps. Raising a heavy veil to thank me for the oourtesy, she disclosed to me, Kate, the original of the picture I adored. I felt like Trarter when he came suddenly upon the glorious ‘Vic toria Hegia’ in the Amazon Valley. I managed, however, to subdue my agitation, though my hand trembled so she must have noticed my confusion. There were the same wonderful eyes, the same bright waves of hairthat rippled away from the fautless brow, and her teeth, when she smiliDgly thanked me, I saw were perfeet, and milky white.’ ‘Come in till the storm is over,’ she asked, and I accepted the hospitality at once. She was very naive and frank in her manner, and told ine a great deal about herself, that is, after I had given her my card, and a couple of letters from General Sam uels, M. C., and Caruthers Mill, both of whom she knew. She made known tc me the fact that herself and aunt were guests in the house, but would soon return to Missouri, their home; that they were to sail for England in the coming Spring to return in the Fall.’ ‘What was her name, Stephen ?’ ‘Zoe Lemoine, and in ‘the eternal fitness of things’ the face ond name mnst have been formed for each other After the storm was over I bade her good-bye at the door, and went away in a state of ecstatic delight. Find ing the source of the Nile would have been a small matter to this, and Casco De Gama’s joy in rounding the Cape of Good Hope could not have been so unalloyed. I tossed all night in tronbled dreams; she was drowning and I could not save her; she was being crushed betweeu cars and I conld not reach the spot; and other snch delightful things. It was the most dread ful season of wakefulness and horrible incubas I ever spent, and when the morning dawned, I had made up my mind to do a very uncommon thing, something that would, doubtless, lead her to believe me insane; but you know Kate, when I once determine nothing has power to move me, but you’ll be surprised when I tell you, I was called by telegram to go at once to New Orleans and I might never see her faoe again. I verily believe it would have madden ed me to go away without speaking this to her, and I made a bold dash to win her. You shall see with what result. I told her simple facts; that I had loved her from a picture I had seen in a gallery once, and it had /been the dearest), wish of my life to sometimes see the original. 1 torebore to tell her that I had carried the pic ture over my heart so long, and that it rested there even now. While I was telling her this she looked troubled and said: ‘I am g'ad chat for once I am wholly inno cent. Mr. Niers, I snn now almost a bride; witu- in a month I will be so. I am to marry a man to whom I have been pledged for several years, and whose face I have never seen, therefore cannot love liim. B it the fiat is inexorable—I cannot break uiy troth. Good-bye; I will carry you always in my heart as a noble man, one who has dared to speak so nobly as you have done to a stranger.’ ‘A stranger? my heart re-echoed a stranger —when she had been my friend and confidant for so long a time. But I was dumb; %nd may- haps, Kate, there were tears in my eyes when I rose to bid her farewell forever. I held her lit tle hand an instant within my own, pressed it to my lips, and left the presence of the woman that, if Heaven had willed it so, should have been my wife. It was the right hand I kissed— the left wore the hateful signet of the barrier be tween us. I went back to the hotel, calling my self a fool for indulging in those dreams that I ought to have known would never have fulfill ment. And, so I told myself the romance of my life was over. But this was not the end of it all, Kate; far better for me had it been so But the sequel is yet to come. I always know when your interest heightens, Kate, by the way your fingers fly, and you were quit9 angry that Zoe did not jump at the chance of marrying me without a word of demurrer.’ ‘Yes, but go on, Stephen, I am impatient to hear it all.’ ‘I was never the same after my interview with her; but I angered fewer ladies by peering into their faces iu search of my pictured Irenda. I was less inclined to society, and gavo over balls and courts, as thibgs that belonged to the past; life seemed to me a dream of the long ago, and had no future. When summer came again, and the dog-star reigned supreme, I posted myself to the White Sulphur Springs for a season of re3t and quiet. I meant to make it so. I was sorry to find the resort well crowded, although ’twas early, with the ultra-fashionables and elite. The houses are delightfully arranged; all sorts of bewildering promenaders, canopied parlors and romantic pfiths through the forests, and charming drives in every direction. But I kept my heart in a napkin, and had coolly re solved to make the most of life I conld,bnt as for love I was done forever with its allurements. I was late at breakfast one morning; had en tered the room alone, to fiad it still half filled with indolent guests like myself. Close to my private table was another, at whioh two ladies were taking chocolate and toast, while a num ber of gentlemen were gathered about, keeping np a stream of fashionable gossip abont the place, the notables, and things that had trans pired. I did not look at once, bat, when I did, met the eyes of Zoe Lemoine fixed steadily upon me. I trembled like a bashful youth, despite my heicnlean efforts to be calm, while she smiled, bowed and blushed. I oared less for the smile, sweet as it wa3, than the blnsh, and I treasured it upas a signal of her remembrance. 0, the days that followed, Kate. Tney were truly Elysium. Dangerous as I knew the lax ary to be, I indulged myself withoat stint, in the * beautiful frnit with the bitter core.’ She said her lover had not been quite prepared to consummate the engagement, and the marriage had been postponed till the coming fall. She had lost something in her manner, I conld not tell just what; but there was a change I was not slow to deteot. She never drew me on to love her, nor seemed to glory in the fact that I did so; bnt rather treated me as a friend, in whom she was well pleased. We had such merry drives in the snnset hours, read Aurora Leigh together, and praotioed some new love songs. ‘Mr. Benson comes to-morrow, Mr.Niers, then the old times are done forever, and I am as sorry as you.’ I knew, although she did mean that I should, that she had learned to love me, and I was selfish enough to rejoioe in the fact. It was not right in me to stay by her side and woo so persistently; in deeds’if not words, but, if this rival was to have her always, why should I not revel in the delight of these few poor weeks. I thought she was strong enough J,o bear this close friendship, without disturb ing her will to keep the vow she had made, bnt I found that she was no stranger than I. ‘For the last time, Miss Lemoine, I said, will yon drive with me to the Dnmberlane ?’—a pool that we had so named from a German story we had read there. ‘Dare I?’and she paused an instant, and then, as if trampling on all self-pleading, ‘yes, I will go.’ The morning air was as clear as amber and the wild birds rejoiced with exceeding delight. There was little said between us, hut we were together aDd over us hung the glorious morning haze, aDd for ns both the waters flashed and sung. The usual joyonsness was gone from her manner, and a sad restraint was In the tronbled eyes. ‘It is all over from now,’ Iagaid, ‘and this is for the last time.’ She turned‘her face away and said nothing, but I saw tLe sudden clench ing of the white fingers round the fan she held, and I guessed it all. ‘It would have been better if I had not come, Mr. Niers, I had no right to gi ve you this to bear.’ ‘Do not think of it in that wtiy, for I conld not have borne to lose this morning with you —the last, you know, for me,’ I answered. A singing brooklet dashing over a tiny fall, made musical murmur in rythm to the oriole’s call. I felt that my life had a turning there, Kate, two paths that led forever apart, and I told her so. The spirit of the hour was upon her too, with all its sad regret, and she could not s iy one word. ‘Yes, for the last time, from to-day,’ I said, ‘we will meet no more as we have been wont to meet. But we have each stood on our own ground. I knew that you were the betrothed of another, and that I bad do right to speak a word of love to you, nor need I to have done so. for every motion, every glance could not but tell you of the place you held in my heart.’ As we rode homeward both were silent. Call me a villian if you will Kate but it was some compensation, for the unutterable loss she was to me, to know that her heart was mine. As I helped her from the carriags she said simply, ‘ Mr. Benson has come,’ and I fancied her voice trembled. I did not go in to dinner, but while the band were playing a delicious air from Strauss, in the twilight hour, I deliberately walked to where the trio Blood Miss Lemoine, her aunt, and the newly arrived fiance. Kate, if a cannon ball had been fired within a foot of me I could not have been more shocked. I had expected to see a Bean Brummel, or Don John, but instead, a dark, Italian-like face and figure was presented as ‘Mr. Benson. ’ I think I showed my astonishment, for Miss Lemoine began a hurried jest, while a deep crimson spot burned on either cheek. She looked so feverish and sick that I longed to take her in my arms, fold away the bronze-brown rings from off the sweet white forehead, and comfort her. But this could never be ;. it could never be my lot to smooth the thorns from her pathway, I who would have laid down my life for her. The lover exhibited signs of jealousy fori still hov ered about her vicinity in the old way. Meet ing her, one day, as she loitered np and down a little path, the sun was low, and I was coming his bride from the carriage, and years younger than when Kate Vance had seen him last.’ ‘ Stephen, dear, welcome home !’ and she held out loving hands to his wife. •Zoe!’ the hostess said, then, woman-like, dissolved herself in tears. Stephen laughed, while a pair of bronze-brown eyes looked wist fully happy, and not the least surprised, as if she had expocted a briny welcome. It finally came to the knowledge of Mistress Kate that Mr. Benson had, very opportunely, died abroad, and this was how it came to pass that Stephens’ heart and Zoe’n were, at least ‘ in park’ RELIGIOUS DEPARTMENT. Non-Sectarian—All Churches and all Creeds. TWO SIGNS. There are on two of our most popular streets, two of the most expressive signs that we have ever seen. They are at the entrances of two sa loons. One is two huge, green lions crouching on. either side of the doorway. The other is significant on account of its lo cation. There is a saloon under an undertak ers ware house. The sign boards of the liquor dealer aDd the coffin man are thereby brought into suggestive proximity, The truth which was gaping ont of the jaws of the lion was, he who drinks intoxicating liq uors brings himself down to company with brutes and is torn by ravening wild beasts. The truth expressed by the other sign was, the liquor dealer is a publio murderer and the drinker pays him a reward to kill him and the state and city gives him license to do it. We had as well understand this whole ques tion, go to the bottom ot it, and neither shut our eyes to the enormity of the evil, or close our mouths to the magnitude of the sin, for fear of being cailed fanatics, or on account of the ne cessity of individual abstinence. For one we need no bracing to speak ont squarely and unequivocally on this subject There are several notions against which we wish to deliver onr full force. The first is that drinkiDg is good for the health. All liquors, lager beer and kindred compounds included, are pure stimulants and have no more nutritive properties than a chip. The medical quack who prescribes as a tonic lager beer or any other of its various associates has Sir Henry Thompson to rebuke his practice and in many cases has more regard for the si lencing of his own conscience than for the recu peration of his patient. The fact is in nine cases out of ten he would be mortal willing to assist his patient to test the quality of the pre scription. It is never healthy to drink and a fool ought to know it. Nothing can be simpler unless it be the brains of a man who can’t un derstand it. The second idea is that it is the symbol of nation” and “Everlasting,” as contained in our Euglish translation of the Bible. (2) The Judgment Day, by H. P. Liddon, D.D., Canon of St. Paul s, London. (3. The Misery of Man, by Adolphe Monod, D.D.,the greatest of modern French Protestant preachers, translated for this publication by J. E. Rankiu, D.D., Washington D. C. (4) Aaron s Death—Life's Review; A Plea tor Earnest Self-Examination, by Theodore Christlieb, D.D., the most eloquent of German divines, and the one who awoke so great enthu siasm at the meeting of the Evangelical Alliance in New York, translated by A. C. Wedekind. D. D. (o) The False Light—A Reply to Canon Farrar, by Justin D. Fulton, D.D. SALM-SA LM. An American Circus Rider Who Be came a Princess. in from a target party-I stopped almost with- ood cheer and ind i 8ponsab le to social success, out intending to o^> ro " 1 ‘ Is it mouey, Aliss LeS'fi&Ie t* it cannot be love, admiration, or even tJf jrauce ?’ ‘O, spare me, do not ask,’ and her voice was full of passionate pain. ‘I woold give my life to secure your peace.’ I said. She wring her bauds iu so re distress. Mrs. Benson met her and they entered toe nail To gether. A grand-mother W ishingtou tea-party was held that evening in she parlors, and I escorted a pretty Alias Cates, the only lady to whom I had paid any attention for several years, t.x-ept Z u L.-moiae. She was there looking exquisitely miserable, with the scarlet spot on either cheek, and a far-away look in her beautiful eyes. She tried to keep upashow of interest ia her companion, but the guise was very shallow. She was brilliant ly dressed in an oriental costume, and I was Aaron Burr. I opproaehed her side before the evening was over; said a few light words and that was all. She seemed cool to me, though it may have been the restraint she tried to throw about herself, and I revenged it by flirting with Miss Coates, and was repaid by seeing the anxious glances thrown in our direction by her whose soul and mine were bound by the strong and invisible cords of affinity and love. Tuere was a party to the little pool that we had named Dnmberlane, the next day. I desperately drew rein beside her horse on the side of hon or, and remained there. The looks that I re ceived from the dark-faced lover were any thing but encouraging, but I felt intensely wicked, and was gratified when I saw the glad look in Zee’s eyes as she welcomed me. They were gone from the spring next morning, Kate, anl she left no word for me, and there is little more to tell: Are you weary ?’ ‘No, go on:’ ‘I learned that Mr. Benson was immensely rich, that she was poor and was betrothed to him, per proxy, several years before through the manipulation of her friends. I heard after wards that they were married in the usual style of grand swell weddings and had gone abroad, and that she had faded greatly and was sadder and quieter than of old, though society still raved of Airs. Benson’s beauty. Standing a year later in front of the South ern Hotel, St. Louis, I paused to greet a college friend, when a carriage stopped before the la- die’s entrance and I saw Mrs. BeDson alight. She was alone, I stepped to her side and ex tended my hand without a word. She recog nized me instantly, and her jisp*n wore lighted for a second with their old time splendor, and then were sad and deep. She had changed, Kate. Oh! terribly changed; but that moment I loved her better than I had ever done before. Only a picture and a lavender glove! bnt they contained the history of my love and the trag edy of two loving hearts. 1 have not forgotten her, snd I never shall. No wonder then, that the poem moved me to these sweet and bitter memories, the portrayal there of infinite love is so true, I know to my painful cost. Aye: “I hold that all the evil we know on earth. Finds in this violence done to love its true and legitl mate birth,” Good-bye. ‘Kate, I’m off to-morrow to ’Frisco; do not let my little story sadden you; you shall hear from me ever and anon, and I’ll be home to the wedding,' look for me. Carson has waited a long time for you, and I honor his impatienoe now to wait no longer. I do not believe you know what lore is, Kate, else the leash matri monial would have held you long ago.’ ‘No,’ she said quietly, ‘not such love as you have told me about,’ and then brightening, ‘I’m glad of it God bless you, Stephen. Good bye.* The art o-.ct*- f mederct? drinking and beastly drunkenness which may be discovered in our so-called best society is a shame and disgrace. It ought to be said however, that it is in keeping with and a necessary companion to many other sensual customs which obtain there and which need not bo mentioned here. We want to say in the plainest words possible that the drink ing Irishman on the streets, and lager beer Ger man at the garden is just as decent a drnnkard as he who with silly toast and ceremonious non sense drinks his fine wines from cat glass at a fashionable dinner party or at some grand en tertainment in honor of some great sinner, pro digious egotist or collossal hypocrite. If social life can’t be run without wine then society’s god is its belly and the quicker the machinery stops the better. We shall have something else to say about this matter as touching moderate drinking and the attitude of civil authorities to the liquor traf fic in coming issues of this journal. BOOK NOTICES. ‘Kate, I’m married. Will be with you on Friday morning,’ so the message ran that she held in her hand a twelve month later. ‘I wonder;’ she said to herself, ‘if he’s off with the old love before he is on with the new ?’ How prond and happy he looked as he lifted The Romance of M. Renan, and the Christ of the Gospels, by P. Scbaff. D.D., and M. Rous sel. Large 16 mo. pp. 239. Price $1.25. The great body of Christian men and women of our day, is not aware to what a popular and dangerous extent the spirit of Renan has, and is permeating society. Many who have never read his “Vie de Jesus,” and many who do not know that there is any snch work extant, have by the inexplicable contacts and currents of life, im bibed to some extent his pernicious doctrines. The arrogant rationalistic pulpits of the day, and the egotistic press whose greed is more for novelty than truth, have in some measures pop ularized his heresies. These considerations obtaining in England as they do in our land, first called forth this pub lication by Dr. Schaff and M. Roussel. Its effi cacy as an antidote for this prison in that coun try commended it as a remedy in the United States. It is eminently adapted to the purpose, and its history might easily have been anticipa ted before it was sent forth on its godly mission. The style is pure and fascinating. The thought is solid, the logic is convincing, and the whole work is in such popular size, as to command the attention of the learned and enlist the interest of the uncultured. We hope and pray for it, a very wide circulation. It is sent forth with ad mirable mechanical execution by Messrs. Nelson & Phillips, New York. Olive Logan's London Letter to the Cincinnati Enquirer, I was going to ask yon if, perchance, you re membered a lady who was rather prominent in America during the war, and for sometimes after, through her various adventures, and who was known far and wide as the Princess Salm-Salm? I met her frequently in New York society, and I thought she held her own in her new position very well. The correct thing in speaking to her was generally conceded to be to call her “Madame Salm-Salm,” but when speaking of her, as in introductions, to name her by her title. She was slender, pale, quiet, and had a certain resolute dignity which came prominently in play in the subsequent events of her career. Her husband was a good deal of a scape-grace, and the third or fourth son in one of those “high-born” German families, where all the boys take the title of Prince—which is usually all there is to take. But the lady’s an tecedents were peculiar. Like the heroine in Milhac’s charming play of La Cigale—which here allow me to state, has been arranged for the sweet by and by and the effervescing Lotta by the pen of the mute, inglorious Mrs. Milton who now addresses you—the Princess Salm-Salm bad been a circus-rider up to the day of her marriage. CINCINNATI HAS SEEN HEE bounding through paper hoops and waving pink tights in the ambient air over the bare back of the fiery dray horse temporarily impressed into the service of the saw-dust. Salm-Salm fought in our war till the close, and then went to Mexi co, and got mixed np with Maximilian in a muddle that has frequently been mentioned. At the breaking ont of the Franco-German war, he had Major’s rank in the Prussian army, and was killed in one of the first engagements. This left the ci devanl circus performer a princely widow, aDd her next step was to secure another distinguished husband. This she did in the person of Mr. Charles Heneage, the yonnger son of a lord, a man of position and wealth, being at that time an attache of the British Em bassy at Berlin, and at present holding a seem ingly odd, though reaby aristocratic office, as ONE OP THE queen’s PAGES. Heneage settled £1,000 a year income on the Princess ont of the interest of £35,000 charged at 4 per cent, on the family estate, of which his elder brother is in possession. To those who have any foothold in English society, and know what is going on, it was no seoret that Heneage abandoned the Princess almost instantly after the marriage. Some said the very next day; but you and I will be more liberal and give them three days’ grace, like the bankers. What has brought the scandal forward again isf.’iat df»y before yesterday an "action was insti tuted by the Princess to foice Mr. Heneage to pay her her allowance under the marriage set tlement. He refuses to do so, defending his action by the statement that the Princess ob tained the settlement by misrepresentation, and that consequently the agreement should be can celed. He says she told him that she was re ceiving £1,000 a year during her widowhood as a pension from the Prussian Government, when, in iiiot, she was only receiving £200 a year, the ordinary pension of a majob’s widow. To those who fancy that the name of a lord’s son has any influence with a Judge in this country, the decision given in the case is fall of interest. Here was a man of importance, of high family, attached to the person of the Queen’s Most Excellent Majesty, pleading against a separated wife, a former circus-rider; a mere abstraction, too, as the Princess, who lives abroad, was not even present. Yet the Judge's decision was entiiely favorable to the woman. The plea to have the agreement canceled was as nonsensical as it was unsus tainable, he said. The marriage for which the agreement was made had taken place, and noth ing had occurred to invalidate the contract. The gentleman had only to inquire at the offices of the German Government to ascertain the accuracy of statements made by the lady. In a word, Heneage must pay the allowance, and the lady can in future eDjoy existence on the Con tinent very handsomely, indeed, on $100 a week. But only to think how odd is all this when you consider that the woman began life without the aid of the balanoe-pole! The Complete Preacher—April 1878 —Religions Newspaper Agency, 21 Barclay street, New York. Price, single number 25 cents. Terms per year, $2.00. The April number opens the third volume of this valuable sermonie magazine. The present iB a very interesting number, containing the following sermons in full: (1) Why Christians Believe the Doctrine of Future Everlasting Pun ishment, by Henry J. VanDyke, D.D., late Mod erator of the Presbyterian General Assembly. This sermon meets most ably Canon Farrar’s challenge to prove the doctrine of an Endless Hell, independent of the words “Hell,” “Dam- A Singular Costume. We extract the following from a New Orleans letter:— ‘ There is a man, a day laborer in the custom house, who receives $35 per month, which he spends the most of in decorating his person. He has his own pecnliar notions of taste, and on Sunduy he attires himself in his singular costum, and exhibits in the most frequented thoroughfares and public places. ‘ Yesterday, at the request of a gentleman, he came to the drawing-room of the St. Charles to gratify the anxiety of some ladies whom he was informed had stayed a day beyond their time that they might have the pleasure of seeing him. He wore modern-shaped coat and pants, but his hat is remarkable for its broad brim, which is nine or ten inches in width, on one side of which he wears a massive eagle of pure gold; his shoes are of fine silver, and are jointed to permit him to walk the more easily. His coat and pants are profusely decorated with rich gold lace, and the seams are strung with gold coin. A loDg string of twenty and fifty dollar gold pieces reaches from his neok to the point of his vest, and around his waist is a girdle, from whioh depend bunches of golden fishes, each of which is seven or eight inches long. His hand, however, exceeds the rest in novelty; the fingers are covered with rings, one of whioh wheighs one pound and a half; he wore three on Sunday, the fields of whioh were decorated with engravings on the gold, of the flight into Egypt, Adam and Eve, and the Crucifixion; he has also a massive seal, on which is engraved a portrait of himself. ‘ His rings are attached to heavy bracelets, and sundry very large gold ohains weigh heavy on his broad shoulders. This expensive eostnme is kept in the bank during six days of the week, in whioh he assiduously toils for more money to buy new decorations. This renowned individ ual is always willing to answer questions con cerning the oost of the golden armor, and expa tiates very loudly upon the exquisite skill and workmanship of his*rings, seals, fishes, etc. A gentleman in the custom house informs me that this Sunday dress is valued at from three to lour] thousand dollars.’