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DOSIA - OR - THE TAMING OF A GIEL. BY HEXRY GRLVILLE. Translated from the French, for the “Sunny South," BY PROF. CHAS. F. GAILMARD. in. “ Ton may believe me, my friends," said Pierre after a round ef punch, “But the thought of that marriage did not scare me at all.” listener 00 * 1 ”*' SU ° h “ pret<7 girl »” exclaimed some “ Pretty! she indubitably is, but not easily governed-a great deal in the style of her horse which was so obedient for ail mischief. But then I was not thinking of all that. Dinner bell was ringing so I followed my cousin, who started first. She climbed the flight of steps so easily that when I had only passed the fifth step she was already seated at the table, where I found her pulling the ears of her younger sister, who cried tearfully. Aunt had a great deal of trouble in rest oring order, and could obtain silence only when a servant brought the soup—which was too greasy !f; “ su ) a, >—^ ut . aunt, who is as lean as a broom stick, hkes U that way and gave utterance to her delight with the exclamation, ‘what a good soup !’ whmh she repeated many a time. Meanwhile, my betrothed was openly skimming with a spoon the nl^p P nfV hat fl ° ated “ pon her broth > and the plate of her nearest neighbor—the priest of the parish—was the recipient she used to get rid of it. 1 he good man was too deeply engaged in a d “ ,0n on . 80me litigious clerical question, to notice Clementine s freak, but we could hardly eSwd if*” aUgh,Dg - At last her “other per! . “ wou,d be ashamed,’ she said, looking at her in anger. ° *' 1 am J U8t through, mother,’ ingenuously answered my cousin, swallowing her soup il and asked the governess for the sugar bowl. The old lady, who had vainly tried to educate all that crowd of girls, sighed deeply and looked on another side. Clementine’s fingers began to work on the sugar bowl—she had put the sugar tongs aside. She first threw a lump of sugar inker cup! then one into mine. ” “ ‘But, cousin, my coffee is already sweet/ •It matters not,’ she said, coolly, and two more lumps fell into my poor coffee. She filled up her own cup to the brim and handing the empty sugar bowl to the governess: “ ‘There is no more in it,’ she said, ‘go and get some.* 6 “ I then understood what she was after The unfortunate governess sighed again—It was hei way °f expressing her feelings—and went out with a bunch of keys in her hand. I ierre, said Clementine, ‘forgive me.’ ‘‘I looked at her. She was really serious.” “ ‘ I have nothing against you,’ said I, ‘if you promise not to do it again.’ Is it a “ ‘It is all done on purpose and there system t. Yesterday it was Bayard, to-day it is Pluto o.morr,w ,t .ill probrtl, be roof LtSiSSu, ' ' P “ tOW * rl * he “ ‘Such association between Pluto, Bayard and myself was not precisely, flattering, but the < reettve at the end of the sentence made it pass i grStIi°d°e at CJementine with a sort of tender i in my again “ ‘Nor must you,’ she retorted quickly - bargain ?’ J “Gentlemen, what would you have done place . ‘It is a bargain/ I answered. She clapped her hands joyously T>..y ^ hat a ha PPy Hfe we shall lead !’ she said. ut what a pity that you have to leave to-morrow, wilt you come back soon ?’ “‘Certainly,’ I answered. _ b f day passed rapidly and agreeably, although more than once my hands had a terrible itching— carefully repressed—for 1 “ - 8 had teld you he would ! T.l,«., th .t ltae . ael,, nl 4 P lSd P .ir .b».,.g h„ d,„„ ln , , 0 „ ,4"“ 4;“: rtr- ^®r f his I wanted to avenge myself. The driver had said that he would have a new shaft m “SSL -b» hitched Mr. Chaloner was our lawyer and friend and 1r , " — nu^k/r a 6 t r r flnsbedo1 “Y heart-throbs grew * 0TV J° Se Ph Cook Reads and iStudies- quicker a t the sound of his voice or the touch OlUUieS of his hand no one knew it. One evnnin^ JoseDh Coot suggested my lover could not reuch the bog.hevi „iih hi. 5 He „ .murt that fellow.; ,h. ^ided. looking M „e “ les, cousin, he is smart,’ I repeated fori was determmed never to confradict her ’ 11,11 he 18 wicked, since he has found a wav I°wisheiF/ braVC h ° rSe t0 pul1 that hogshead. So I wished to avenge myself, and I did. You know that I sleep in Lucrece’s room.’ “ ‘No, I did not know.’ .il" A Ve11! U J® 80 ’ You kno ." too that she hates all dogs, and particularly Pluto. Now, listen S!^l h ®ri r _ e8 i lng u P° n her bed, I went ft,; - Plu '° and trapped up some rags around his feet' to He did not make any opposition; he is . , - . * — — traveling around mv cousm s waist. Aunt scolded Clementine only two or three times, her other daughters keeping her very busy. With all that I had no chance to Eyszsiuss* ”'! h »sr-K|*i-.Tisna? " pp ’"“ o, ‘ i - *• - ^ J. .0 wee, c 0 ,hc„. “t bad good „, t l0 ,. t , hl „ , . but I did not say a word. ’ IV. •#k'Tk U °u ght to have seen him climb up stairs “• *7- ?»ij.iu lb, »jlar, wi’dne’eatend beJ ‘ u nderSt00d immediately—he is so touch n ° on® knew it. One evening, nearly a year after that morning in the oarret Mr. Chaloner asked me to be his wife Iw a "ed my vr fan ,^ itb a ‘ Grand Duchess’ air and said • ‘No, Mr. Chaloner, I do not wish to marry at present, and when I do, it is my duty to-to— ‘Make a grand match ?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘A duke for instant,’ coldly. ‘Yes, I think that would do.’ Hugh didn’t tear hi- hair or threaten to com mit suicide because I refused him. He even 10 iMeh - md io » k “8 ;^ ab - rd °hnd 1 I doubt if you will ever 8 t d n k 18ba 1 wait P atie ntiy. for of course we will marry some day. I have felt it ever funce I saw you sitting on the stove that morn- Now, I had no good excuse for acting as I did It was simply contrariety.. Hugh Chaloner was I *lnv!d “if”’ “L d l n t my heart of hearts, I knew tenffiH d fV, hlm ’ i bnt A V by and Jaliet calmly con- tented themselves, longed to see me Safely landed on the shoris of matrimony, hence I de termined not to marry, but to enjoy my free dom as leng as I pleased. J 7 7 morning I ordered my horses for eight o’clock at night, and going to the garden in hope of meeting Clementine, I sat down in the oow-fLm... that had witnessed the now-famous swing , . , °, Ur V0W8> 1 wai,ed ‘here fifteen minutes before she came down those un handy steps of the porch and joined me. The sit- “ Sbe tben ,P ut her spoon aside and looked pla cidly at all of us. F “ Su ?h conduct ought to have made me con- sider attentively what I was going to do- but I snL n °o t r h 8he , l0 v 0ke r d B ° l0Te, y g an d innocent, ii WP nla! h / r ^- 0f “ annere •' the afternoon, we played gorelki. 1 ou know that game in which every one must have a partner, an<I he who dies not get any is to give the signal for running after Knifi- 1 W k 8 1 4 < ? ok,n « for Clementine, when she came holding by the collar a large Newfoundland—an other pet of her—whose name is Pluto. asket/ bat 7 ° U g0 * ng t0 do wi ‘h that beast!’ I / 7 n at ' 8 ™y partner,’ she answered, at the same time falling in line with the other couples. tongue Ut0 ^ ° n hiS Uil and l0lled out his “ ‘But—what about me !’ “ ‘\ ou will give the signal.’ i ‘‘ A8 i it . wa3 ‘° la ‘e too secure a partner—all the ladies being already engaged-I bravely took my dilfJb? 1 l/Jh 6 head ° f thecou P les . to the great delight of the serious part of the company, that had remained on the balcony. I gave the signal by striking my hands together. The first couple behind me separated, passing on each side and ag!l,n l 11 fr0Dt 0f 5* e - t a V.- - miss her, so the couple feU back to the other end of the line, waiting for another turn. I acted the same way with several other couples, for I wanted Clementine, and was anxious to see what she would do with her dog after I would have caught her. When I saw that it was her time to run, I struck my hands, counting, ‘one, two, three !’ “A black mass passed me on the right, and a white cloud on the left. I ran that way, but a call: ‘Here, Pluto !’ nailed me on the spot. The dog had seized my coat tail and was holding on to it desperately. I turned round and round to free myself, but the infernal dog was trained to obey only a certain word which I did not know. 1 half-smiling, half-mad, 1 Such a roar of laughter r i h J t uni P ed upon it. Sister moved a I burner! PI i"? u f UP ‘ That ’ a "hat I Wanted. I turned Pluto s head towards sister’s bed;—this was not easy but I succeeded.—I laid him on tb- n 8bppe f bl8 Por f Iegs . int ? ,he sleeves of AbbvoTTr 8 , 0 "? 8 t0 haye a d °uble wedding. Abby and Juliet were to be married on thesanie happy!" 3 “ y tW ° foir Si3ters W6re dee P‘y> truly , Tr °r e ®I!u, ing ’ jn f, t a week before th ® wedding, Mr. Grumbling called, looking very grave. ‘ ft n^t IDg bad Dews ’ ladies -’ te said, abruptly, and it concerns your uncle-’ ^ 7 ,°.°d Abb}. C '“ P '’ P m? ,pine - ‘Mr. Jefferys left a later will; it has just been Ssf h81,n his *»» »- ^! b ® n i be !!-,T a8 a silence, and I ques- Joseph Cook carries a railroad and prepares his quotations for hi* * P< ^ re ’ hre Ob •Sh,k«.p46o“ co“ ,0^0? "‘A” He picks up every whepp* 11 the caps. It seems as though he forgot 1 notli ever y lhin 8- private he bewails his treSerous mem/^ 1 never knew a student yet who did Ft a 7 ' * wra b SvTr W 1 yTL “ OMoptionto Ods are peculiar. I violate no confidence I rTp y orfhr?hl 8t m U e d a Three pKc S e 8 r e8erViDg maChinery h 5 he happens to be, a thought, a sentence, a Sin Then 68 blm \ , The book fills up quickly 6 Then a now one takes its place. These books are detect and hied away. He trusts his memo! ry to serve as an index to suggest to him the t d here°n^ e d reading ’ theincideDt ‘ or the thought 2. He also carries with him a package of com. mercia note-paper. Any extracts in a boTk not m his own library, any fact or figure worthy carefnl Preservation he notes on a half! sheet of paper These are sorted according to a few large titles. The homogeneous onasare pinned together. As the pile increases thev me S ‘on TTIf ^ f™** 0 le . cture to-night,’ said he to me on Ultimate America. I pu t in my bag my package of excerpts on America-a hundred or more-end look over them this afternoon as a The ffl«« S &= IHS r S".“? I. skipping ,|, h.™ ne„ r . a J tl „ 1»« the while on my plank. “ ‘That’so,’ she simply said, come back ?’ ‘When will you f '/ ' Pt 18 a question for you to answer, since you forbade me to speak to your mother.’ 7 “ ‘1 es, for we would have a terrible scene should mother learn that we are betrothed. We must wait until Liouba gets married.’ “I couldn’t help uttering an exclamation of re- nnF f n Ub e a 1S , “ 7 aunt ’ 8 eldest daughter, the one so full of perfections. .. ''l bioi ! ; ba : heavens .' As well wait for the Greek calends* ». 13‘ “ led “» “Lucrece is twenty-three years, and her left E C""" 1 l0 “ k ' d “ b ' r »«• Hk ' mf d0 ®' ‘ku";«rw j„i P d “,'' le “ I assented with a bow. She continued • 1 gave my instructions to Pluto, and took a Sfj hMd" ‘ 0W ’ "“ h * Pi'«« »f»«k i„ ( TO BE CONTINUED. ) UNCLE MAURICE’S MONEY. W ,ti 18 ^ USt 88 bad ’’ 8aid T> shft king my head, th a & f 7 - tlme - 7 ° U P lease / she answered ‘ha sort of relation, ‘immediately, if you I reflected that before concluding such an stopped turning and, looked at the company you never heard.” Here the young officers began laughing too, but Pierre Mourief, always grave, continued: “Clementine, laughing more than any one else, sat on the ground, and to my aunt, who was urg ing her to call her dog, she only answered : "I cannot, mother, I am laughing too much. ‘ Well,' said I, ‘ take it easy. 1 shall wait till you get through.’ “ 1 tried to sit on the lawn, but a tremendous jerk from Pluto forced me to stand up. At last Clementine became less hilarious and said : “ ‘It’s all right! Pluto.’ “ The dog went immediately to lay by her side. That is the way my cousin raises her pets. Mourief stopped for a moment, but the audience asked him to continued, and he complied with their request: ...... “ I could not speak to her that night. I was almost mad on account of Pluto’s prank, and when I went to bed I vowed that I would change all that when she would be my wife. _ Next morning, I was awaken by a rain of sand mixed with small gravel falling against my window. Opening it, 1 heard a silvery laugh among the large tr « e8 of the garden. I immediately dressed myself and went out, but could not see any one. 1 searched every thicket, every nook on the place, but found nothing-only I heard the same silvery laugh, now here and now there. I was returning to the house for breakfast when I perceived my cousin face between the limbs of a large hawthorn. I bounded towards her and, in spue ot the thorns which lacerated my hands, I 3 « ,zed her tb ® waist. Ah! dear friends, I had hurdJj’done this than I received—I will be ashamed of:t ahl my life—I received the most sonorous and best applied slapping on the face you ever can imagine. Pierre, abashed, looked at his audience, who had lost all sense of seriousness. Count Sourof espe cially seemed to enjoy the situation, “You find that funny,” said Pierre, “ I assure you that I did not see any fun in it. “ ‘ This is not very gentle,’ said I to her. nave I not the right to catch my future wife when she is teasing me ?’ . “ «No/ she answeied, red with anger, should you do it again I would tell mother about “ ‘But, dear cousin, we will soon get married and—’ . . “ -That is no reason;’with a self-possession that astonished me, ‘one must always be respectful, marned or not.’ “Then—you may believe me or not, gentlemen she put out her tongue at me, just like a child; she positively put out her tongue and ran towards the house. I did not attempt to follow her, but went for breakfast. I had been hardly five min utes in the dining-room enjoying my coffee and cream, as well as the nice buttered rolls, whioh my aunt’s cook bakes to perfection, when Clement- important affair, I ought to take advice of my parents; so I told Clementine ; No, not just now. These thino- V treated so abruptly. You.-wil 1 - ho r??i£ Uftr --ii t» / " —v » leave you so ? I 1 mean without a poor little kiss?’ “ She frowned at me. “ ‘You shall kiss me,’ she said, ‘after we shall have kissed the holy picture together.’ “This allusion to the ceremony of our official affiance did not give me excessive joy. Still I bore it like a man, and answered with a few ap propriate words. My cousin was listening to me, swinging all the time, and this perpetual motion to which I was an unwilling participant, was not calculated to warm up my protestations of love. Still at times I found my eloquence in a growing mood, thanks to my cousin’s eyes and rosy cheeks, when’all at once she jumped to the ground, leav ing me alone on the plank, in an abashed situa tion. The jerk caused by her leap made me al most fall to the ground, and when I regained my equilibrium, she was already out of sight. Two minutes later, I heard the most fantastical chrom atic gamut rolling from one end of the piano to the other, under Clementine’s steel-like fingers, and I gave up the hope of having any serious conversa tion with her. I was mistaken, though, one was in store for me. One hour before dinner, everything was quiet in the house, so quiet that the governess had been around several times to ascertain that no accident had happened. I was smoking a cigar- rette on the piazza, while Iherrd a sort of scream ing and quarelling up stairs. The governess dis appeared, and my aunt’s voice, drowning all other noise brought to my ear this exclamation : ‘It is too much at last! Mademoiselle’. Suspecting some stormy scene in the family, and being not desirous to witness it, I discreetly went out and took a walk in the thickets of tho old garden. I had already walked two or three rounds in that labyrinth, where I met with nothing but snails and frogs, while I heard my name pronounced in a low tone by Clementine herself. 1 stopped and called : ‘This way.’ . . One minute later my cousin, palpitating, threw herself into my arms, as two days before; but this time, fearing a second slap, I abstain ed from pressing her on my heart. Take me along with you,’ she said through h er (0ftx*S. I pulled out my handkerchief—she had lost hers—and began wiping her eyes. It was perfect ly useless. Those eyes were like two little springs When the handkerchief was completely soaked, she put it on a bush to dry, and—the tears stopped of themselves. “We were then in a little old musty kiosque that stood in the center of the labyrinth. It was a sort of roof supported by eight mossy columns The bricks of that ugly construction could be seen through the cracks of the plaster, which in some places was completely missing. A small army of frogs, disturbed *>y our unexpected in trusion were hopping about all around us. “Clementine had a decided antipathy for frogs She jumped on a large stone between two columns, seated herself in Turkish fashion, and eathered her dress close around her feet. In that position she looked like a pretty little Indian idol —minus the multiplicity of arms and heads. “ ‘What is the matter?’ I asked. “Mother will cause me to die of grief, she answered, resuming her tears. “ ‘I have no more handkerchief,’ I softly rem arked. “She wiped her eyes with a fold of her dress and became calm. •< ‘I am the most miserable of girls,’ said she, folding her arms.-How she could keep her equi- noise in the position she had assumed I cannot explain.—‘Mother will certainly be the cause of my death.’ , „ •« ‘What has she done, darling ? “Saving this I sat down by heron the stone, (fathered the folds of her dress a little tighter, ine entered. It was early yet and we were alone the governess. Clementine, silently and She gathered . gravely sat down by my side, took a cup of coffee | she folded her arms an BY STEPHEN BBENT. is f° be done? ’ questioned Abby ‘T^n ’ a P 8wei- ed Juliet, despairingly I 1. { V y 11 * eI1 y. ou " bat to do, ’ I said. The elrls i ?ove i a t w e J Dq l8at on t0 P of the weM bn « w' of course-because there tinned/* kety chairs ln the r oom. I con- ‘Have you got any money, Abby y Yes, a dime.’ J J ' ‘Then bny a pan of eha-^i* pur f'tiit i-v.:jy Sai, < If only uncle Jefferys wcmld send us some money. It is so hard to havi to starve.’ ‘Never mind, Abby,’I said, cheerfully, ‘if the rats haven’t eat it, there is a cheese orust in the cupboard.’ Abby looked up. ‘Is that really all, Clifford ?’ ‘To the best of my knowledge, yes,’ an un comfortable lump rising in my throat. It was bard that we three girls should almost suffer for bread, when our only living relative was an old bachelor uncle worth a million. But uncle Maurice had cast off our family just because poor mamma had married a poor man. I wa3 nineteen and the youngest of the three girls. A dreary silence fell between us af;er Abhy’s last question about the empty state of the larder. J uliet sat with her head on the table, Abby gazed drearily ont at the window and I—I was getting desperate when I heard ‘Clio’ coming up stairs, Clio was Mrs. Jenkins, our landlady's hired ser vant, and you would always know when she came up stairs by the clank, clank of her big shoes. She opened our garret door and announced: ‘A gentleman to see you’ens,’ and looking out saw a tall figure, and a handsome, brown- bearded face beyond her, and I was so aston ished I forgot to get up off the stove, until the gentleman came in and announced himself ‘Hugh Chaloner, attorney-at-law.’ Then I re membered, but it was too late, and though my cheeks burned with shame I kept my seat. Mr. Chaloner sat down, gave the miserable, little room and three shabby figures a compre hensive glance, then said: You are Frank Royal’s daughters ?’ Yes,’ said Abby. 1 Then you are very fortunate. Your uncle, Mr. Jefferys has left you his fortune/ Juliet turned white, but said nothing, while low under her breath I heard Abby whisper, Thank God.’ Now, I was disposed to doubt the statement. Uncle Maurice might be dead, but it seemed impossible that he could have left us his property. The man must be mistaken, or only jesting. Are you sure you are telling us the truth? I asked, anxiously. Mr. Chaloner laughed. ‘Yes, I am quite sure, and to convince you I will send Mr. Grambling around with the will.’ ‘Oh, no, it is not necessary.’ I cried quickly, the fact dawning upon my be wildered mind, that I had been very rnde. Mr. Chaloner rose to depart. ‘Will you have a check made out this morn ing, Miss Royal ?’ turning to Abby. •Yes sir.’ ‘For what amount ?’ ‘Fifty thousand dollars,’ answered my eldest sister, coolly. The check was made out, Mr. Chaloner left, and then we three girls fell into each other’s arms and wept for very joy. For several days I almost refused to believe in our good fortune, thinking it mnst be softening of the brain. But I was convinced when we moved into an up town palace and dressed in silks and laces ev ery day. Mrs. Imison, a well-bred, aristocratic old lady, lived with ns and was our chaperone, companion and grandmother by adoption. Our friends were as oountless as the sands on the sea-shore and they cherished a pure disin terested affection for us, so they said. Of course, uncle Maurice’s msney had nothing to do with it. The thought w»s too base for such noble minds as theirs. Abby and Juliet were both angels minus the wings. Bat I was truly of the‘earth earthy. While they delightfully fellin love and became engaged, I flirted and enjoyed my new life with a zest that was highly amuang to Hugh Chalo ner. «How splendid!’ I end when I viewed the ease and comfort around nfe. ‘No more baok garrets, old dresses and canty meals, and to think that this will last fofcver and ever,' and I gave no thought to death, or old age, but filled my onp of pleasure to thebrim. tione d the reality of all earthly things. Three white shocked faces confronted the lawyer. It cannot be true,’ I cried out at last, ‘Uncle Maurice surely was not so wicked.’ But it was true, and we were as poor as when We » i!I ed in 3Prs : denk to8’ back attic. , Abby and Jaliet accepted this reverse of for tune very calmly, bat I wept and refused to be Maurice/' pleasure in hatin g ancle PhS/ magnanimi ty worthy of praise, Mr. nn/fl m / gam Came forward and proposed but p ride made me reject him this time. ‘No, I said proudly, ‘I wouldn’t marry von when I was rich, don’t ask me to now.’ 77 . enl U P stairs and cried until my nose was the size of a teacup. 3 My sisters naturally thought I would make irfL/f T lth i bem ’ but 1 Lad not the remotest nn th f SU i Cb a , tbln g- We bad a warm discussion on the subject one night, and I came off victor. Abby What ^ y ° U g ° ing t0 d0 ’ Cliff? ' asked J! am goin g down to Pickensville to teach school and wear out all my finery • viHe af TM t \ e \ e : id ‘ Dg 1 de P arted f or Piokens- Dosed of twoZ g 7 L Dtere8tl °g villa g® "as com- posed of two dozen houses, five stores, and a set er saw m ° 8t respectabl Y stupid people that I ev- -J be “ ild dissipation the Pickensvillians in- dulgcd m, when compared to that I had just red wine’ ^ hte blU6 skimmed miIk to rich. ‘Rat my breakfast, went to school, and whip ped all the children because they would obey me. Dismissed at five o’clock, went home and put on one of my prettiest dresses, and spent the remainder of the day in the delightful occu pation of tormenting Josephus Janes, the village lawyer.’ Abby and Jaliet wrote regularly each week, and as regularly begged me to give up my fool ish pride and come back to them but I stubborn ly refused. One morning when I started to my daily tor ture—teaching the youth of Pickensville was a torture to me—I felt so blue, and spiritless, I longed to lie down by the wayside, and never gives him the full use of his re- sources m each subject in each lecture. , , He bas “ ot tbe contempt of some would-be tbfim larS w ? fh hen ? W8paper8 ’ lleread8 and nses a red crayon be “arks whatever strikes him as suggestive, throws the paper into a corner. Mrs. Cook, who is a sort of private secretary to him, as many another wife of many another busy literary man, outs out the marked ay8 , them ’ loose ’ in an todex scrap- book. When a large store has accumulated Mr. Cook goes over them, calls out those ofperman- ent value, and pastes or otheiwise preserves them; the rest are destroyed. ‘Permanent jonr- m«nT U8 - leS8 -„ Tbey are a "* 81 of time w 1 Wa8 m ? llege 1 bonght an in** rerum, but there are not twenty entries in it. A note- book.for suggestions, loose sheets of paper easily ne a r 8 e S?n eXtraCt8 ’ 8 82ra P-book for newspa! per cuttin g ’ are my simple means for preserving SiTKtoJ ° f readlng ‘ ’ Tyman Abbott, in Chris• rise any more. All through the day I inwardly moaned over my lot, looking back regretfully to that year of pleasure, that lay like a rift of warm light across the grayness of my life. At recess, when with several distinctive yells my unruly scholars departed for their play ground I put my head down on the desk to have a good comfortable cry. The first tears had just splashed down when the door opened and Hugh Chaloner entered. My heart throbbed fast with joy, but I dried my eyes, and tried to appear as cool and calm as a May morning; but I^didn’t succeed for. ‘You have been crying’ Cliff,’ were among the first words he said to me. ‘I havn’t,’ I cried indignantly. ‘Well, there are tears on your face anyhow.’ ,0—1—that—is—’ ‘You are not good at telling stories,’ he inter rupted with a laugh. Then he looked keenly at me and said: •You are pale and thiD, Clifford.’ ‘It is only the cool wind that makes me look pale. I have splendid health and a nice time.’ ‘Indeed!’ ‘Yes, Mr, Janes is so kind and agreeable.’ Mr. Chaloner laughed. ‘I am glad you are so happy, Miss Royal, but you must congratulate me now.’ ‘What on ?’ I asked, feeling my heart sinking. ‘The Silverlon bank has broke !’ ‘Oh, Mr. Chaloner! And you have lost all your property. I am so sorry.’ ‘I am not if this last gives me what I want,’ and then ho suddenly, passionately cried: ‘Clif ford ! Clifford, my love ! don’t let pride stand between us any longer. Come and be my wife.’ ‘Well, as you are as poor as I am, I will,' I said slowly, and then he drew me to him, and kissed me, to the horror of old Miss Peters, who happened to come in just then.’ So we were married, and went on a modest little trip to the seaside. One evening as our little boat drifted idly over the smooth, shim mering waters of the bay, my husband propos ed to me a trip to Europe. ‘But what will we go on ?’ I asked in a bewil dered way. . ‘On land and sea,’ was the provoking reply. ‘But where is the money to come from ?’ Hugh laughed. ‘That is a secret.’ ..... ‘Hugh,’ I said, a faint glimmering of the truth dawning on me, ‘yon have been deceiving me.’ ‘I have not.’ t ‘You said your property was all gone. •No, 1 told you the bank was broke, but I didn’t say my money was in it,’ smiling. Then he bent over me, and tenderly said: ‘My darling, I loved you so truly, I could not let foolish pride part us —besides all is fair in love and war, is it not ?’ And looking into the handsome face dearer to me than anyother on earth, I confessed that it was. So we sailed ont on the broad ocean of life with Faith, Hope, and Charity, for our Guardian angels, and love to shed light on onr pathway. Schuyler Colfax has made forty thousand dol lars in the last font years in the lecture field. How much he made previous thereto in another style is not given, but if the two amounts were added together they wonld indubitably make a pretty pile. Ladles at the Goodwood Races. e graDd 8tand and the ladl e 8 ’ lawn this a “ d , a P ,endid sights- The spell f a h had occasione d the ladies to adopt for the most part warmer attire than “ b ?. 8een ,g reat variety. One constume of sapphire velvet with collarette of pearls was fn1, bnt deep ruby and oIive tinted velvets were as effective in their way; shades were quite as a rule and each lady seemed to aim at combining a little rich color- 8 T ltb „ a great deal of s °her groundwork. In married lady with golden hair looked lovely in a costume of rich, lustreless white silk, made plain, the throat and wrists encircled with white ostrich feathers. Others appeared in splendid toilets of black, relieved by black combinations of silk, satin, rich fringes and feathers. Some zebra costumes looked very striking. The Princess of Wales varied her toilets every day. One of her greatest successes was a dress which put one in mind of the color the ripening corn takes. The Princess Edward of Saxe-Weimar astonished all beholdsrs by her chic toiletts. She is a sister of the Duke of Richmond. Suddenly the bell would ring and the gay crowd return to the stand and carriages. The racing was the finest of the season, for the epidemic which had attacked the stables had abated, and a great many splendid horses made their first appearance on the Goodwood course. As the afternoon began to verge into evening the stfirt for home would begin and those bound for Bognor would soon reach the little place and wake it from its afternoon nap, and night would draw on and all the houses become gay with waxlights and splendidly appointed dinner tables, and from the open windows sounds of merriment and festivity would issue. Later on, ladies in elegant evening toilets would throw on seme light wrapper, and accompanied by a cavalier in evening dress, saunter out upon the esplanade and sea shore, and the receeding tide could carry out to the wide ocean many a soft love tale and whispered promise that would never have been gained in the crowded London ball-room. Beautiful Actresses. Sarah Siddons was incomparable. Her first painter told her that she was like an antique sculpture of Ariadne. She was taken by sur prise, and began to say: ‘Yes ! it is very like—’ but stopped herself and said, it is very beauti ful. ’ They spoke of her ‘gorgeous affliction.’ Even weeping did not touch that perfect nose with its unbecoming rouge. She could writhe, frown, fume, weep, die and still be beautiful - She could command her eyes to take on the sad, vacant oblivion which has carried consternation to allhearts. She could send them into the next world with all their terrible introspection painted on the iris. And then in Desdemona her ‘beauty sweetened tragedy.’ But she was handsome every day. In the National academy she is charmingly beautiful in a modern way — in a Gainsborough hat—dressed in striped silk, with a little muff in her hand. Lady Dud ley had the dress copied by Worth. It is almost exactly the gown of to-day. It would be pleas ant, were it not so old a story, to tell again that record of blameless life, abounding genius, common sense, piety, simplicity and prudence, which accompanied this beautiful actress, but it is too well known to us all. She was not aroh; she could not play Rosalind. Humor was left out’ Those delicious women—I use the word advisedly—those delicious women around whose loveliness plays the sheet-lightning of wit, playfulness, archness, mischief, or, to nse the prettier French word tspiegelerie—those were left out of her repertoire. But if she could not play Rosalind, Mrs. Jordan could ! Yes! so that Bosalind herself would have approved; so that Shakspeare himself would have gone behind the scenes to kiss*her ! So said her admirers. Mrs. Jordan was a famous, laughing beauty; her laugh, indeed, rings in the corridors still—it is embalmed in a thousand memoirs. She had the misfortune to become the unacknowledged wife of a royal dnke, and, in a anion of twenty years, to show all the royal virtues, while her titled spouse showed all the plebeian meannesses, al lowing her to pay his debts—a pitiable story. This lovely and romping Mrs. Jordan, who could laugh so well, had much occasion to weep, poor thing; the grandeur of her liaison brought her little happiness, dignity or honor. Vanity is never isolated. Yon will find every country under the son.