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THE SUNN" SOUTH.
W *TCH^ Ig ht.
The ■'»**( Half Hour of ’»».
7,^ ne ' «I^ho* lirei ,st
A Rani lies drifted like a sn-w,
Erect thy grand old hm* and rest
Thtae °>' es on us who love thee so-
Revere and love thee so!
Thj hand that from the Summer's Land
Brought largess to us, wa-crthcold
And flaccid, as with team we stand
In marvel thou hast grown so old,
So feeble, wan ami old.
When from thy cradle gentle Spring
riic ermine lifted, through the calms
( mite gossips with swift l*’* 1 of wing
And hearts that throbbed and burst with
psalms,
And strung the air with psalms.
But on bare boughs that writhe and creak,
\\ here sang the birds mid leafy oaks,
Some Raven-wind briKids, wlicts its beak
O or empty little nests and eronks,
And croaks and broods and croaks.
\\ ierd sentries stir without the door
Amid trailed leaves, or list and jieer
Astride the chimney-top, or roar
Hoarse things of the coming Year,
The coming royal Year.
And lo. the ghost of Summer howls
" ithout, and smites the dripping pane.
While clouds move o'er with bended cowls
Anil break their burdened hearts in rain,
Their big hearts pent with rain !
The herald winds ml] distant drums,
The sturdy trees stand mailed in ice
And One 'mid belfry clangors comes
Through the Mown arras of the skies,
The tom and swaying skies.
Young Eighty comes! Get we to bed.
To our old year we choose to cling.
Until we feel the King is dead,
fan we avow: Long live the King!
Tiie Bead is yet our King!
SONIA.
Translated from the French of
Henri Ureville.
BY ANNIE MURRAY.
CHAPTER XVIII.
The morning service had terminated, yet
Lydia did not make her ap]iearaiice. Con
sumed by impatience. Boris went out two or
three times to examine the square; he then
explored the most obscure corners of the
church; she was uot there.
Tin* choristers left, then the priest; a few
devout people disjiersed little by little: at
length the beadle put out the candles, leaving
lighted only the lanqis that always burnt lie-
fore each image; they were going to close the
church doors.
Boris went away slowly, his heart sore with
bitterness and anguish. Has she been surpris
ed and prevented from going out t Is she ill!
Such had lieen his fears; then the thought
that the loss of this interview, which was to
him irreparable, that he now could see her
only on his return, struck him as iiaiufully as
if he had never thought of saying farewell.
He then thought that she might have written
to him; that perhaps the letter was waiting
for him at home, and he liastened to his
rooms.
The apjiearanee of his room was very sail,
as it always is when any < me is going to leave.
The furniture out of its place, liooks scattered
here and there, clothes lying about, a cup of
tea half empty, pajiers on the floor; in fact,
the disorder of a room in which you are not
slegjy, all iiindcji dijetul im-
prSSbm oh nfru. it seeniedto nim as if they
were going to carry away a corpse, and that
corpse was himself^ wrupped in his despair as
in a winding sheet.
He questioned the woman who waited on
him, then the landlady of his apartment; no
one had lieen in. and nothing had lieen
brought for him. Boris seated himself on a
trunk, rested his head on his hands, and asked
himself what he should do.
'I cannot go without seeing her again,
be t<> himself, resolutely. “I will go
said he to himself, resolutely
under her window, and no matter how well
they have shut her up, she will find the means
of making me some sign or sending me a
n °H> dressed to start, when the postman
rang. Boris sprang towards him and almost
tore the letter from his hand. He double-
locked his door, and opened the envelope
tremblingly; the letter was dated the evening
before.
“Dear Boris,” wrote Lydia, “I am going
to a tall. I shall not return before four or
five in the morning, and you understand that
I could not get up to-morrow to go to the
church, for liesides being very tired, they
ould think it stnnge my going out so earlj.
thcrcfore.see you to bid you farewell,
I wish you a
I cannot, therefore,see you
which gives me great pain ; but
pleasaut journey and muchJrappme^U
Here the
nere cue young girl had lieen forced to re
flect, for a large sjiace separated these words
from the following line. .
“My dear Boris.” continued she, I hope
that vou will succeed in all, and that you
«ill lie verv happy. I shall remember all my
Hfc toe happ?Xys that we passed together
in toecountry, ind I ask you not to forget
them while you are abroad. AY rite me al
that you do, and think of yQuR Lydia „
*r fell from Boris’s hands, and he
to remain on the floor.
, nt to a ball; she was notable to
■use and I shall not see her again,
himself, while his heart became
old as stone. She slept, and I, con
£ impatience, awaited her. She
Uteroom feverishly, striking here
Me things which lay alioutvith a
ind of satisfaction. He hurt hnn-
the corners of the furniture, his
3 benumbed with the blows he re
did not feel it, or rather the pain
tble to him, it distracted for an m-
orrible torture which was madden-
11 I must go,” said he at last,
He looked at his watch, he was
Retrain. “I will leave to-mor-
ht he, “and between now and
iee her again.”
things in order, told his landlady
Id sleep again that night in Mos
int out determined not to return
e had seen Lydia or been assured
■r Night comes on quickly in
l cold fog commences to faU over
“When do yon leave ?” asked she.
“To-morrow, by the mail train.”
“We will go and say farewell to you at the
staircase,” suddenly replied the ingenious
Dounia, brightened by the sight of the bank
note. There is such a crowd in the waiting-
rooms that von will not- be noticed.”
“Very we'll.” leplied Boris, quickly calmed.
“But I warn you that if you do not come, I
will not leave, and it will have to be recom
menced. I will not leave Moscow without
having seen Miss Lydia, if I have to go to the
house in the day time to see her. How is
she I”
“Ah ! sir, she has had a fearful headache
all day,” said Dounia, in a pitiful tone; “yes
terday they took her to a hall against her
will; she cried very much when she thought
! not see you. She will now be very
she could
much please<l. ”
Boris felt the ice melt, which had all day
seetned to congeal his heart.
“She wept J” asked he again.
“All day long sir. Here is the laundress’s
house. Come to the station early. We will
lie there an hour liefore the train starts.
Goodevening.”
She lUsapjieitred in the doorway of a house,
and Boris, his heart full of hope, and swelling
with remorse at what he considered his in
justice, returned home, eat with a good ap
atite a cutlet, and slept for twelve hours.
Returned to the house, Dounia, whiledress
ing her hair, related to her young mistress
the encounter which she had just made—nat
urally not mentioning the ten rouble note—
and insisted on the fulfillment of his promise
resjiecting the next day. ....
“Why have you promised that : said
Lydia, blushing ; “you advised me yesterday
not to again see Boris Ivanovitch, and this
evening you arrange a meeting."
“But, miss,” replied the astute maid, “he
says he will not leave Moscow till he secs you,
even if he has to come here in broad day light.
With such a madman you must yield some
thing to keep him quiet.”
“How he loves me !” thought Lydia.
The pleasant recollections of the country
returned to her memory, together with the
ardent kisses and passionate adoration of
Boris.
“Very well; to reward him. do as he wish
es,” said Dounia, with a coarse laugh, while
she placed the last rose-bud in Lydia s hair.
Lydia was silent for a moment.
“What we are doing is not right,” she said
at length : “we are deceiving him, and if he
discovered it ”
“Since he is going away, how can he know
anything aliout it; and, besides, miss, this M.
Boris is not a fit match f< ir you. with his seven
years of waiting ! A pretty young lady like
you to lose three or four veara waiting on a
poor tutor, while she could marry at once a
man rich and noble, like the young proprietor
who comes here.”
“But I ought not to have promised him to
wait,” said Lydia, with a last cry of expiring
conscience.
Say at once that you no longer love him.
and that you are about to lie married, and
you will see what a handsome fiend your lover
will liecome. If you have the courage to tell
him frankly, you will lie rid him at once;
only, in his rage, he is cajiable of killing you.
If you knew liow hi* shook me when he stop
ped me in the street ! My arm is all blue !
Lvilia continued toroll theendsof her ribbons
between'her undecided fingers. “VV hereas, if
you agree with him now,” continued Dounia,
in an insinuating tone, “lie will goa«av and
leave you in jieace: you will gradually cease
to write to him: he will not perceive it much;
and then you will say that you have moved,
or no matter what—in fact, we will find
plenty of ways of ridding ourselves of him
without making him cry. Come, miss, put
on your pereline, and make haste, for your
mamma will lie ready. You are crying!
you will make your eyes red.”
But, Dounia, that will cause him pain,”
said Lvilia, hesitatingly: “he loves me so
much, and I am going to abandon him.”
Will you marry him, fly from here with
out either trousseau or money, with the curse
inma, ant! live in the wolf courftry
it.
of your l
iiV '■•auk at, Gs^t*»y»
word; he will soon take you away, and V*
will have the remainder of your life to bite
your fingers. You will not do that; AY hat
a pity !”
“You are alwavs saying tl ings to vex me,
Dounia; it is not fight 1” said Lydia, crushing
her handkerchief between her trembling
fingers.
“I tell you to do that which you think liest.
said the maid. “You are really too good to
trouble yourself utMiuthini! Abandon him!
Oh! Lord, wait till lie has been in St. Peters
burg three months, and you will then see if
he still thinks of you! It is you who will lie
aliandoncd, if you pride yourself on your con
stancy. Do men know how to lie faithful !
I, who sjieak to you, once had a lover, a ped-
ler; we were engaged: he left to make a tour
round the country previous to our wedding;
do you think be came liack! YY'ell! yes! He
was married in the country to the daughter
of a church warden. All the men are alike.
If you will wait for him, you will be abandon
ed. You will see,”
At the idea of being deserted, Lydia’s eyes
flashed with anger.
“You are right,” said she; “betides, any
thing for peace; it is too annoying to lie al
ways afraid of lieing caught. Give me my
fan, there's mamma calling me.”
And she left her room with that queenly
air which liecame her so well
The next day Greliof was at the station long
before the hour of departure; in that resi>eot,
he was not the only one to wander about the
waiting-rooms, for in Russia they arrive at
the stations at least an hour liefore the ticket-
ofliee opens. Little by little the rooms began
to fill with travelers, encumbered with all
sorts of luggage, and accompanied by friends
and parentis; the fine weather and Sunday’s
leisure was favorable to the habit of accom
panying those who are leaving. The neigh
boring workmen also caine to see the train
start. All this crowd came and went gaily.
The servants with three rows of red lace,
pushed the crowd off to make room for the
Madame General. Something, and large
dogs followed their masters, answering with
disdain the advances made by strangers.
Boris had disposed of his luggage and secur
ed his place in a carriage, then vent in search
of Lydia, but in.vain, His bloid lioiled with
grief or passion—he did not know which.
They rang the first bell. “She rill not come.
I ought to have known it,” said ae to himself,
with a return of that cold indignation which
had seized him the evening before.
All at once his heart seemed to burst with
a sudden joy, and the emotion siemed to rivet
him to the spit, while Lydia, with her face
enframed in ner rose colored hornet, approach
ed him slowly, looking for him with a slight
frown, which rendered her stiL prettier, she
being rather near-sighted.
Breaking the charm, he advaiced, and with
an air which he endeavored t< render indif
ferent, saluted her ceremoniousy: then, pass-
up the collar of his
ir cap over his eves
p house in which Lydia dwelt.
I two hours elapsed without any-
ng to favor hls enterprise; it
wme to his assistance, no mat-
wforsonie time, he saw Dounia,
y<Z Sr t^evS, and lam
£ pelerine from the taun-
no timeto talk now,” said the
r^doToaV^” said the
IrofitogbJ. light mtoe street
trt ?he n uote, murmured a polite
ami stiU continuing to walk,
ing in front of her, he led her to an obscure
corner which he had chosen beforehand, as a
place for their interview.
“How late you have come! tiey are going
to ring the second bell, we liavt scarcely five
minutes,” said he to her, us soot as they could
speak to each other.
“I could not leave any soonei” replied she,
with a little anger; “is it to qtarrel with me
that you sent for me !”
“Lydia, my angel, the mooents are pre
cious; do not let us lose them—listen to me.
I am going away; my atisence will lie long.
Tell me frankly, will you havethe courage to
wait for me V
The face of the young gi'l was covered
with blushes; behind Boris, Ditwia nodded to
her a sign of affirmation, and die replied:
“Yes, I will wait.”
“You have well reflected 1”
She made a sign of assent.
“Very well! here is the betrdhal ring; from
this moment you are my wie,” said Boris,
taking her hand to place the <ng on her fing-
ger. But her hand was glovd, and the ring
could not pass the first fenuitle. Much dis
turbed, Lydia took it in her ofcer hand. The
countenaee of Boris became clouded, but a
smile from his betrothed reasOred him.
“Take off your glove,” sail he.
e he t
YY'ith a slight repugnance die took off her
glove, not of her right hand but of her left
The second bell rang, Boris had but a fe w
seconds; he put one of the rigs on the fing
which she presented to him, and put the other
on his own finger. ... ,, , _
“You are my wife,” rejieated he, and I
love y u. I f 1 ever betray you, may Heaven
punish me.”
The porter walked through the rooms, ring
ing his liell; they were all alone, for the few
travelers who were late, ran towards the
train without minding them.
“You hear, Lydia,” repeated Boris, “that
Heaven may punish me if I lietrav you. Af
ter to-morrow you will have a letter from
“You will miss the train, M. Boris, said
Dounia, officiously.
“I love vou so much,” continued the young
man, his eyes full of ardent tenderness, his
voice choked with the emotion it contained;
“Lydia, you are all my hope, my life; do not
forget it.”
“Ring the last bell,” cried the station-mas
ter, outside.
Boris leaned towards Lydia, pressed a kiss
rapidly on her lips, wrung once more the
hand fie held, and sprang into the nearest
car, to the great discontent of the Jior-
ters; at the same time the locomotive littered
a shrill whistle.
“So long as he did not miss the train,” said
Dounia, to her young mistress, who remained
thoughtful.
The doors of the station were closing, pa
rents and friends circulated slowly, some
sad, some gay, anil talking of indifferent
things; the two young women followed the
crowd.
After an instant Lydia gazed on the pledge
that Boris had placed’ on her finger, and, as
if against her will, she carried it quickly Co
her lijis. then passed her handkerchief rapid
ly across her eves. Her childish lips seemed
to la* scarcely able to withhold her sobs. She
lowered her veil and increased her pace.
“What a strange idea to give you a ring,
miss.” said Dounia, all at once “Luckily he
has placed it on your left hand, and it is only
the right hand which amounts to anything.
Without answering, Lydia pressed for the
second time the ring to her lips.
“Take care lest your mother sees it,” con
tinued Dounia.
Still silent, the young girl took off the ring,
not without some difficulty, and tied it care
fully in a corner of her handkerchief.
“Do not erv then, miss; you will spoil
your color. You ought to be satisfied that
you are now free.”
“What do you mean!” replied Lydia
smothering her tears; “lie is gone: I shall
never see him again, and yet nothing can
prevent me from loving him.
During this discourse Boris had regained
his seat by means of the American style of
communication between the cars on flic
Moscow-St. Petersburg line, and with his
head in his hands, he thought of all he was
then leaving—his mother, his village, liis
youth. Lydia and his love. He had a vague
idea the latter did not altogether belong to
him, and that idea broke his heart with in
consolable grief.
i without his receiving an answer. He
J. he entreated Lydia to send him news
self; he threatened her with an ojien
tl, then softened, and reconunenced hls
rations; all was in vain. One day, ex
ited, he asked her a decided question:
you love me ;” wrote he; “orhaveyou
<to do so '! If our engagement is irks
f> you—if some other has gained your
alone. They had been in Russia two days
when Boris received a letter from the priest
of tiie village:
“Your mother is very ill,” said the worthy
man; “for some days she has not been able
lo leave her lied. If you can come, come at
onee.”
On the receipt of this news, Boris went to
the study of the savant, who had liecome
I i 1 ....... ..... joui uie siMitiy vi ine savant, wno nail liecome
Jell me frankly. I love you sufficiently I more of a friend than a master—he had gone
Mlit anil Anecdote. 1
“A hair on the bead is worth a dozen in the
hush,” says an exchange. But, then, it doesn’t
attract so much attention.
CHAPTER XIX.
The first months were terrible for Boris.
Scarcely had he arrived at St. Petersburg,
when he was home-sick, longing for his dear
village, and especially for those loved beings
whom lie had left lie hind him. The weekly
letters from his mother, and those from Lydia,
much shorter and less frequent, only increased
this desire to return to them.
His work was, nevertheless, very attract
ive, and he who employed the young tutor,
was one of the liest of men; but this reason
and these exalted sentiments did not prevent
the sufferings of the despairing young man.
When the day of his departure was fixed,
Boris experienced a fresh pang. YVas it not
hard enough to lie condemned to live apart
from his family, without increasing the dis
tance which separated them ? However, he
would endure it. The future dejieiideil on
liis perseverance; Lydia had advised him to
go; his mother was resigned.
An idea occurred to him. In asking for
three days’ holiday, he could go and embrace
his mother and Lydia in passing; but he must
arrange it with her. Without losing a 1110-
possible, this answer:
“Dear Boris—Do not come; we have to
morrow to visit one of my aunts, who is very
ill. I do not know how long we shall remain
there: perhaps all tiie winter, and perhaps
only a few days. We do not take Dounia
with us; she has found another place. I do
not know how 1 shall get your letters, but
continue to write to me postr restante, Mos
cow. I will no doubt find some means to get
them when we return. Send me your ad
dress, that I may be able to write to you.
Do not forget
“Your faithful Lydia.”
Boris did not feel satisfied with this letter.
However, what more could he expect ! Miss
Goreline, he knew, was not mistress of her
actions. She promised to write to him, and
still the young man’s heart ached more and
more, as he thought she would lie three or
four months without news from him.
“She will not suffer much, perhaps,” said
he to himself, with bitterness.
At the last moment, as he was entering the
carriage to go to the station, he received a
letter from his mother.
“I send you my blessing,” wrote the old
woman, the [uqier saturated with tears. “I
pray God to be with you on your journey,
and return you safe and sound. I had pray
ers said for you in the house the other <lay.
Sonia cried so pitifully that we were forced
to give hea'a glass of water to calm her. She
told me to inform you that she had neither
fought or quarreled with any one since you
left, not even with the dog. She is here be
hind me, watching me as I write, and enjoin
ing me not to forget her message. AVe will
talk of you, she and I together, and will try
to have patience. Be happy, my dear son,
and every day on awaking, think of your
mother, who nrnvs fur von I”
trn you your liberty; but so long as you
. „ . —
itell me that you wish tolie free, I shall
*r you as my betrothed, and shall fol
ia with my letters.”
n Lydia received this ultimatum she
Rt received a vexatious check. An of-
i the guards, after having courted her
fsiduously for the bust six weeks, had
tly left for his regiment, leaving only
•excuses in place of farewell. Almost
tame time a Moscow journal published
from the learned friend of Boris, an-
jig the discovery of most important
flits, due in a great measure, it said, to
farehes of a young man of talent, M.
( who, if he continued thus, would make
fself a name in the scientific world,
i found herself hesitating between the
«nce which Boris caused her anil the
t retain him in her j lower, at the end
«ine, in case she could catch no I tetter
having well thought, read over and
.Vpiy tly -L;-1 letter of her betrothed,
1 a marvellous idea,
ten you love,” wrote she, “it is not
u-y to repeat the same constantly; your
ms are cruel, and I am deeply wound-
you had confidence in me, you would
low to wait without doubting my af-
I shall write to you no more, it is
lgerous. \\ e will see on your return
[ who have ceased to be faithful.”
answered with a torrent of reproach-
oaths which tilled at least sixteen
tint Lvdia was firm and did not reply,
skilful maneuver she rerained Boris,
: reserved her own liliertv, somewhat
ally, it is true, but as the proverb
ito make ail omelette, one must break
liegan to suffer horribly; asharp pain
as heart at every moment, when tliink-
:liis past happiness. He was angry
viii.'i, he was angry with himself anil
iisomed by a sort of ungovernable
The savant whom lie accompanied ]ier-
•hese inward struggles, and, one even-
ring hls hand on his shoulder, he said
young friend, you do not look for rest
' may Ik* found. 1 do not know the
i your sufferings, but they are very
■ Accustom yourself to the inevitable
t in study consolations much higher
npie daily distractions.”
profited by his counsel, and little by
} grief was softened,
a* has deceived me,” said he to liim-
S'lre shame to her. I will wait, and
ne as when I left. If she has remained
idea of this happiness still possible,
1 swelled: but he rarely allowed him-
iiink of all this, and from that time he
i his life to that austere toil whence
tig spirit gathers so many treasures,
find faith will seem strange to our
ihut we must not forget that Russia
1 to both Germany, and Sweden, anil
te two countries divide with England
tuition of long fidelity.
t at all rare to see young people love
t for each other for eight or ten years,
!•: which we French, (whom the ltiis-
ftivolous) laugh at. and Boris, in
g, was neither letter nor worse
trest. Besides, he had given himself
lily, and study is a jealous mistress,
society of the austere and goral man
win he resided, during long nights
ji* it obscure manuscripts, he discover
rez ; ^ he collected useful material for
His'iirito^. “always calm anil re-
without his knowledge, the
This woman, who had
signed, h
highest* , ’” ! '* s o,* “ and whose dream
was to * Reside him, remained alone
with f idth: she amassed, by means
\V mi lira i:,4l n nintUll' filfilinSt
Ion*' V/jui's iu preparing him clothing,
for h£ fuu,re n,arr,age, a,,d
Iiev , r; 4nt, never a regret
, t , 2r near child ; she pksse l her
imagu
_ >ul<l he
melancholy of these
'"^i^iBor^To live away from her;
nit! AVitbout giving hi.: self any anxiety,
Boris left his letter open on the table and
went to pack his trunks.
A few hours later the savant entered the
young man’s room.
“You are going,” si id he to him; “that is
right. I came to tell you that you were per
fectly free. If you wish to return to me, I
shall hi delighted, for your society has lie
come very dear to me, and the house will
seem lonely without you. If you prefer to
remain in Moscow and lead an indc|H-ndent
life, I will (ind you an honorable jKisition,
which will permit yon to continue our lielov-
<*d studies. In fact, if you desire anything
that I can not foresee or guess, tell me. and all
I can do for you will seem to me hut partial
pavment of a debt I owe you.”
Without answering, Boris pressed the hand
of his friend, sent a note to Armianoff, and
the same evening he was on the road to Gre
hova.
How little this journey resembled that
which lie had made three years liefore Now.
although sail and uneasy, it was an uneasi
ness quite different. His future was certain,
his path liefore him was wide, straight and
honorable; lie could do exactly as he pleased,
but he thought not once of Lydia: that which
alone absorbed him was Ins suffering mother:
perhaps on account of his long absence.
Moscow, then the juist-stations, the monas
teries. passed as in a dream, while the little
lean horses galloped under a fine but jiene-
trating rain.
It was autumn, the dull autumn of Russia,
with its fogs and sunk ss days: the leaves of
the birch trees in the wood already yellow,
and the dark groups of firs, lined the length
of the deserted roads.
At length there it was. the loved home!
The desolate garden is drowned by the rains:
the lient dahlias, stricken by the first frosts,
hung with a mournful air their blackened
leaves against the green stalks. Some one
was waiting for him under the wooden ver
andah : an attentive ear had caught the sound
of bells: the elegant form of a child was visi
ble on the top of the hill.
It was Sonia who immediately ran, and
was the first to greet him <m the door step
with;
“Good-morning, master!” kissing his hand,
her countenance tieaming with happiness.
She forgot that her old frenil, her benefac
tress, lay in ttie darkened room, without
strength and almost without breath. She
had forgotten the son was about to be cruelly
hurt on account of his mother. Had he not
returned, the master, bringing back with him
the sunshine and happiness that he had taken
away on that snowy day when she had seen
him disappear at the turn of the forest!
“My mother'” said Boris to the servants,
who surrounded him.
“She lives, sir: thank God, she lives.” re
plied joyously the old cook, taking off his
loak, heavy with rain.
She lives! he might have arrived too late!
He entered, crossed the first room, and with
his hand on the door-handle, he stopped,
trembling.
What was lie going to see i See once more
his lieloved mother, or a worn shadow of
what she liad lieen :
“Come in,” murmured the old nurse: “ma-
daine knows that you have arrived. She has
lieen talking of you all night."
Boris crossed the threshold; it was not her
shadow, it was herself; her pretty but thin
face brightened, her burning hands stretched
towards him, and her voice full of sobs of joy,
called him by his name.
“Boris, mv dear son, at last!”
And he fell on his knees, his face buried in
the hands of that loved mother, who wept
and embraced him, turning her p. ps with
gratitude towards the blackened “ < Vg s w* l !f?. l| c
tlu , *4«ti'i n’ I til' i ^ ifnc* ^i -^Pf
The servants who were grouped fit the
door, dried tlieir eyes, murmuring a devout
prayer of thanks. .
“Mother,” said Boris, as soon as he could
speak, ‘ why did you hide your illness from
,U “i did not hide it from you, my dear son.”
answered Madame Greliof, passing her hands
through the hair of her child: “it seems that
1 was sick, but 1 knew nothing of it myself.
Now that you have returned, I shall Ik* well,
you will see. To-day I shall get up, and we
will dine together at that table, as we did
when you were a littl.i Ikiv while recovering
front the scarlatina. How long do you re-
fuI H'jnoble and generous heart knew
tranqu®
it hi
however—it was then j better.
main ■ . , , „
•‘As long as you wish, dear mother.
She did indeed rise, and seemed to be much
Boris, having lK*come a man, with
° ,,e ^Boris’ had W le V ft r her-Madaiii'c I te handsome Lght Wardand firm walk was
"'Vl l ,3 The snow, which for her a constant subject of joy and admtra-
irclKitery 1 the to,..
had faY heavily last year.
buried the
lieavny msi, 3**•■■•—. .
U as hiirli as the shutters; all " itn-
r^U-iliiKtV' Widow drew near
to the y and looked out at the corner
"Slei' hts went far beyond the dark
palftai'cel.V distinguished through tl.c
! ... mantle which covered it, she
“does he pass
large! mantle* which
thnn -er son.
y? om,” thought she, —- -..
i* , * 1 « * Is he happy ? has he at h.s
his tli* • m "' Vi ? • aI , a ge to
b *i'£S'llr%™r.«M.r-li. ; l. : ,
“Did you net tell 1110 that vour future was
assured s’ asked she repeatedly of him.
At Boris's inswer, she clasped her hands
with a triumphant air, and looked at her son
with pierciig eyes.
“Ceime ani kiss me,” said she, at the close
of her long crutiny.
And ever day she seemed to return to life
once more. In that old wooden house there
was unotbc as happy as she; it was Sonia.
This lifle seeker of pipes, half savage,
half gyp*! had become a serious girl—laugh
ing little talking less, and able to make nu
merous Bugs with an uneqalled dexterity
mother, who prays for you!'
Boris left, and months passed away. Vain
ly he waited for a letter from Lydia.
Nothing was easier than to drop a letter
id
in the post,” said he to himself, and he had
taken the precaution to give her his address
poxte restanle, hut even this prudent measure
seemed to have no influence on the actions of
his betrothed.
He wrote every week, long letters full of
tenderness, reproach, and hopes, but they all
remained unanswered. He was breaking
down under this vain longing, and fancied
that Lydia must lie ill, or perhajis dead. He
never thought for an instant that she could
have betrayed him.
At the close of the fourth month, he at last
received the long-looked-for letter, and ran
and shut himself in his room to read it.
“Dear Boris,” said Lydia, “Dounia came
to see tne as siKin as I returned from the coun
try. I asked her so earnestly, that she went
and brought me your letters' She wants
very much to return to us, as the place she
has now does not suit her, so she dared not
refuse me. I have read all that you have
written to me, and I thank you for thinking
so much aUiut me. Do not write so often;
the clerk who gave the packet to Dounia,
burst out laughing, and said to her: ‘It Is
easy to see that the gentleman who is court
ing your young lady has plenty of time to
lose.’ He is only a clerk, I admit, but all the
same it is very disagreeable, and I am terri
bly afraid that at last it will reach mamma’s
ears. If you write me once a month, it will
tie often enough, and still I do not know how
I shall get your letters, for mamma will not
take D< uma hack again; she ;ays she is ex
cessively coarse,” (these two words were in
French) “and I shall have no one to do my
errands. Farewell, dear Boris; I will write
to you as often as I can. Love me always,
and think of your Lydia.”
Boris let his arms fall, and, throwing him
self into an arm-chair, tears of discourage
ment came into his eyes. After four months
of silence, and ten months of separation, was
that all she could find to say ?
Furious, he paced up and down his room;
then, gradually, his anger abated. Truly,
Lydia was not eloquent; in their interviews
she spoke but very little; her frivolous edu
cation had not taught her the art of express
ing her thoughts. She assured Boris of her
affection. Avh
hat more did he want ?
Boris seated himself at his writing-table,
and at once wrote a letter of thanks, accom
panied by a thousand protestations of faith
fulness. The letter was sent, and six months
ssst
to hoS season*,i'elrtered *
rame^ough the holes in the cover;
Madairebof’s cup, t £ ^ tt ji
stood site to the eraarn jug, the
yello* shone in the basket on
nU “Hicelv you have arranged every-
th iL g e>^fe^i e ^th n ^tisfa<.tion
^ ^ thought of her son’s meal, and
the contiry, her bones were too prominent;
The irr
sighei® more,
‘•V it not so, mistress P’ said Sonia,
answ.the secret thought of herlienefac-
tres't the master was as wdl ^yed
wheris it wonld he some consolation.
Sudd at lieing so well understood, Ma
damefhol' looked at the little girl and
smile
Avoid you that I was thinking of my
son ;’t*d she.
“Omriame,” replied the" child, “do we
-V“ us always think of him ! Of what
r G^ if - did not think
°S!frtie Grebof poured herself out a cup of
e M mt shaking ; those words represented
tea tout speaKiogj ^ ,„, lllir ^ auswer-
she haifcrown a little, not much, but her
whole bly seemed to lie drawn out in such a
manneM to make her appear taller than she
W ghe Id not the manner of a woman, and
yet slWid not appear to be young. It was
diffieoto guess her age. At first sight you
could*t say if she was twelve years old;
then Hiking closer, you discover a small
mouf somewhat severe, splendid teeth,
whic'ier smile rarely permitted to be seen,
anil r gray eyes, fringed with chestnut
lasl* revealed "an expn ssion of tenderness
gazed on the old lady or on the
you master.
J g was happy !| |The master was there,
no #eaking of going away again; old Dacha,
deed exclusively to the care of her ntis-
t r « left her to arrange as she pleased Bo-
rif-oom, and he preferred the linen which
sbail ironed to any other. How could she
b*herwise than happy ?
I ie evening, Madame Greliof, a little weak,
r *ed to bed at an eurly hour; Boris, after
jng read to her, silently watched Sonia,
•1, taking the place of the maid who was
* indisposed, came and went softly, with-
making more noise than a shadow. AV hen
had finished and the door closed on her,
dame Greliof said to her son:
That Sonia is no ordinary girl. Have you
tea ' 11 to require answer- ‘That honta is noon tin;
her othoughts too weUto requi r „ and all which,
ing. nut, standing besiue net, mother; General
nmws. . « • 1 ’ .it i. .u;
concerns her i”
... B . „1 Goreline sent them
^Sjivou loveyour master so much,*’ said me, anil I put everything in order before I
“S? } OU love y delay, go andft for abroad.”
the gl la<ly. aft ^ r _ .‘myself AY v e will taki “Do you know, Boris, that during your al>-
fetchDther cup for you • „ e nce this little one has lieen my only consola-
tea tither, anil sjieak . ' , ....Aon; every day we talked of you; she wor-
Flied with joy and pride, Soma ^ihips you, anil I verily believe that many
reeeil fier tea front the hand of * Uuiijmes she preventei me from lieing sad, by
ti re l which she delicately kissed 1 e relating how good you had lieen to her. You
the a anil sat herself down « n *; “ amist try and prevent her from being unhap-
n chi What happiness! to take te. s he has had more than her share of sor-
madie! For the hundredth to*, the»W^ ^ eame to us ,,
ladvaile her repeat how she bad been “Why should she lie unhappy !” answered
troiiae brutal hands of Madame * the young man, smiling; “it seems to me that
and tre than one tear fell front the eye u she h as no t much to fear.”
f^twi thev thought of the goodness ot “u ow< no; but when I have gone to rejoin
your father,” she interrupted, with agitation,
Boris, who was about to speak—“you must
think of the time when I shall no longer be
here—that time may not be far distant; this
little one cannot remain here. Where will
she go ? If you cannot keep her in your ser
vice, try and find her a place in some family
where she will be treated kindly; if you get
married ” Here she looked at her son with
an inquiring air, and, seeing that he did not
both* they thought 1
l0 TltSne fixed tor the termination of »
oMiumt wassed without either the of
en^entpa^a to change.
^flito ^uch^toeyoungtnaRW
tirardrn to his country, heknewitwo.
fooB to hasten matters, and that he W
hrit profit by the extraordinarily fatf
^reostances in which he now found tf •
to iiprnve in his studies. th Jg
dretto a close. They returned to SW
hurt but Boris was still to remain ^
nhSogist; fresh researches weren£y
to^rqiare the results obtained with
.Aj. M ireadv known, and for th ,
be no question of publishing t
answer, she continued, more sadly ; “if you
marrv, which would he the best tnii
niarrv, wnteh wouta De tne oest tning to do,
you must take her in your service; she would
take the best care of your children.”
Boris was still silent.
Continued on 4th eolumn, 6th page.
The principal fault to he found with the
present national currency is that, in order to
get any of it, a man must work for it.
It is a current hard who rings: “I sat alone
with my conscience.” Two to one he never
had less futt in ull his liorn days.
What is the difference between the post-
office and one of the churches' One has the
postmaster and the other the most jiastor.
Blessed are they who are ignorant, for
they are happy in thinking thev know every
thing.
Do not play with the devil when you are
young lest you have to work for him when
you are old.
One difference between sailors anil soldiers
is that sailors tar the ropes while soldiers
pitch their tents.
Snodgrass says Marco Bozzaris was a stri
ker. and quotes FitzGreen Halleck’s lines to
support the assertion.
Troubles are like Rallies, that oniy grow
larger by nursing—which accounts for calling
them “crying evils.”
It was when somelioily projmsetl to pour
water into his glass that Toomtis exclaimed,
“Death to the union.”
Red is used for danger signals on railroads,
and always means stop. I In a man’s nose it
ought to give the same warning.
A sailor is not a sailor when he is a-Gianl:
a sailor is not a sailor when he is a-shore: but
he must lie either ashore or aboard; there
fore a sailor is not a sailor.
Snodgrass re|Mirts as the latest case of cow-
hiding, that of an Alderney concealing her
self lK*liinil a haystack to avoid being
milked! 0
An olil farmer lieing teased by a number
of Ihivs at suit his lialil head, said, “when my
head becomes as soft as yours. 1 can raise
hair for sale.”
A little girl, on being told something which
much amused her, exclaimed emphatically:
“ I shall rememlKT that the whole of mv life,
and when 1 forget it I will write it down.”
How is it, in fashionable weddings, that we
always have a catalogue of the bride’s wear
ing appai el, while we never hear of the groom
having so much as a new pair of socks!
These apples are not fit fora hog to eat,’
said a dandy to apple-woman on the corner
of Summer and Washington streets. “You
just try one and see,” she quietly retorted.
Annie, is it proper to say this ’ere, that
'ere“AVliy. Kate, of course not.” “AVell,
I don t know whether it is proper or not, hut
I feel cold in this ear from that air.”
“I say. Jennie, when you are putting nice
little nick-nacks in my stocking on Christmas
Eve, won’t you just—allow—your—han i—to
remain—in-—it!” The most squeezable mo
ment in that young couple’s life occurred im
mediate! v.
Belie was walking out in the varil with
]iapa, when suddenly she saw a great turkey
coining towards her. She ran screaming into
the arms of papa.
“Why are you afraid'” he asked. “Don't
you remember you ate turkey yesterday;
you were not frightened then.”
ightened 1
“Yes, I know,” replied Belie, “hut this
me is not conked.”
A Republican and Imperialist were con
versing. “All that you say.” remarked the
latter, “is very nice: hut look at Baris to-day
and as it wa* when we were in power. Then
crowned heads were all the while visiting our
city, and there was plenty of pleasure and
work too.”
“Yes, that is so; I remember very well
that during the two Imperial reigns several
ivereigns visited our country, hut they had
the bail taste to bring their armies with
them.”
Matron, to her boy, screaming:
“AVillie, how long are you going to keep
my tooth-brush'”
“I’m through with it. mammy; Bailie’s
using it now.”'
“Tell Sallie to bring it here immediately:
that girl won't have any teeth left if she
keejis on scrubbing them.”
Beliolil a brain-worker,” said he. “You
think brain-work is a great thing; hut it's a
fraud. It doesn’t pay: it’s out of season, un
fashionable and effete. The school-teacher
is a more disreputable character thnn the
liase-Kall player. Take me, for instance—a
clerk, having entire stqiervision of one floor
of a business house, and controlling three
porters. It’s a fine position, you think. Yes.
but with a refined salary. The jKirters each
get * 10 a week for manual lalnir, anil I get
$5 tor brain-work.
The new employe thought he had stood it
long enough. He hail lieen introduced to his
employer every morning for two weeks. The
new employe accordingly went to the great
man’s office one morning: the great man was
sitting tilted lack in his easy chair, an eter
nal frown curling around his brow.
The new employe stepiied up to him,
slapjied him on the lack familiarly enough
to send him Riuncing out of the chair, and
said:
“Well, how are you to-day, old white-liv
er!”
The new employe’s valuable services were
dispensed with the next day.
A story comes from Tenbury, England,
where a menagerie has been paying a visit,
which illustrates the well-known character
of the elephant tor humane feelings in a re-
mnrkable degree. Among the elephants was
a very fine female elephant, called “Lizzie,”
which was attacked with a violent fit of colic
and suffered intensely. A local chemist,
whose success as an animal doctor is well
known, treated “Lizzie” and saved the ani
mal's life. Sulisequentlv. on passing the
chemist’s shop, the elephant immediately
recognized her lienefaetor, who was standing
at the door of his shop, and going to him,
gracefully placed her trunk in his hand. The
chemist visited the exhibition at night and
met an unexjiected reception from his former
patient. Gently seizing the “doctor” with
hi
er trunk, the elephant encircled him with it
the
to the terror of the audience, who exjieeted
to see him crashed to death, but “Lizzie” had
no such intention: anil after having demon
strated her gratitude by acts more eloquent
than words, she released the doctor from her
embrace and proceeded with her apjiointeil
task. That elephant seems to possess a holier
sense of gratitude than some people ilo.
An anecdote characteristic of S. S. Pren
tiss, the great Mississippian, is related of his
second duel with Henry S. Foote. At the
first fire, Prentiss’ pistol snapped, anil his
adversary’s liall passed over him. This in-
‘ the anxiety of the crowd assembled,
A good minister out AVest preached a ser
mon on peace-making, aimed at two of the
deacons of his church who hail long been at
swords’ points, anil such was his eloquence
and earnestness that directly the lienisliction
wtoot-ihA i wuittta, witU sKiiiiim/* ,
■s: ‘Brother Stiggins, alter such a sermon ~
there must Ik* peace lietween us. I can’t give
in, so you must.”
creased I
as was common in'those days, to witness the
affair, that they pressed up on each side of
the line until scarce enough space was left
for the passage of the bullets. As the com
batants were about to fire a second time, the
profound silence which preceded giving the
word was broken by Prentiss, who, observing
a small boy climbing into a sapling in his
rear, remarked, laughingly: “You’d better
take care, my son; my friend, General Foote,
Is shooting rather wildly to-day.” The good
humor of nis remark, combined with hn so
licitude for the child and forgetfulness of
self on such an occasion, elicited a round of
applause that made the forest ring.