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THE SUNNY SOUTH.
“Well, no, nothing between her and us.
“Mrs. Braxton you will forgive roe, for I
am not impertinently meddling in your
affairs, but 1 am really anxious to do the poor
? ;irl a service, and if you will promise faith-
ully not to mention one word I tell you to
Miss Alice, or to any one else except your
husband, I will tell you why I make these in
quiries, for that is really my business here
*°“Now,"' thought Mrs. Braxton, “we shall
hear the whole secret,” and she gave the
PI Thencontintinued Angelica, “I have heard
since I have been in London that a Mr
Beattie visits your governess, and that there
are scandalous reports in circulation snout
them; and some have gone so far as to effirin
that you have received a letter warning you
against her; but I suppose that is only an ex
aegeration of the ruin'-r.”
“No it is’nt,” she replied, “we did receive
such a letter but without a name.”
“Ah, anonymous,” she replied, “but this is
no proof you see—the poor girl may beinno
cent. Then it is reported that she goes every
Saturday with a bouquet of flowers to some
garden, or endostd place where she meets
some young man in secret, and returns with
out the flowers. This I suppose must be
false.”
"No it isn’t,” replied Mrs. Braxton, my
own servant gave me that report.”
“Mercy on us!” exclaimed Angelica, wha’
can that mean? But still, my dear Mrs
Braxton, let us not be in haste, but be certain
of your ground. It would break my heart
to know this poor girl to be a castaway. Do
you know Mr. Beattie?”
“No, none of our familv evpr saw him be
fore begot the place f >r Miss Alice.”
"Did he get the place for hei 5” she asked,
with a start, and an expression of counte
nance that betrayed astonishment mingled
with rage.
“Yes, certainly be did ”
“How unfortunate! How sns— but I will
not say it. But however hard it may be f *r
me to say it. vet 1 deem it due to a just solu
tion of the difficulty to say that Mr. Beattir
is charged with licentious morals, and of be
ing given to criminal intrigues, or wbat are
termed by profl'gate roues, feats of gallant
ry. But though it was on his account that
my father refused to board his family, and
the patrons of her school declined to send
their children longer to her; yet I believed
her guilt less of all criminal couduct, auc h tpe
so yet. But Mr. Beattie’s getting her another
school directly she lost the one in Kent, is
under all the t i-cuinstances unfortuat-
Perhaps if you were to forbid Mr. Beattie
your house, the thing might blow over: and
A ice ought by no means see him, if be should
come. But let ms beg you not to hurry
things, for that generally complicates mat
ters and does only harm. Lay nothing to
her just now, but keep a guarded lookout
Notice whether she wears any costly and un
usual jewtli y, such as finger rings etc., but
make no remark on them. You must know
that a man in Mr. Beattie’s high social posi
tion does not mean marriage to one in Alice’r
humble position, and she ought to know it
too, if she is not utterly infatuated. Let me
beg of you to bs as indulgent and forbearing
to the poor girl as can be consistent with duty
to your own household.”
“There can be no ’alf way,” said Mrs.
Braxton, “she must be either innocent or
guilty, and we must be satisfied that she is
not guilty if she stays here.”
Angelica then then took her leave and re
turned to to Alice, who to her surprise seemed
now perfectly composed.
“Now, Alice, I must go, dear child,” she
said, throwing her arms arouud her neck
again, "bear up—all will come right at last.”
“All is right with me,” replied Alice, “and
the only wrong I an>. conscious of, is that l
forgot the promises ai‘d the goodness of God
in my surprise, and the anguish I suffered
was entirely due to that unmindfulness.
‘Though I go through t&o valley of the shad
ow of death, I will fear n<> evil, for thy rod
and thy staff they comfort Tie.’ I am nerved
and sustained, encouraged i nd strengthened,
trustful and hopeful. I asked for this, and it
is given. ‘I will not fear whst man can do
unto me for with God on my side, what harm
can man do unto mef ”
Her serene and beautiful countenance light
ed up with trust and hope, and the emphatic
articulation of* the Scripture quotations
awed the Judas-hearted creature before her,
and forced upon her an unwiUing admira
tion and tortured her by the consc - ousness of
the gulf that separated them. How inex
plicable is this! Here is a creature that
knows another is amiable,guileless and good,
and beautiful, and lovely in both body and
spirit, and who yet hates her for those very
qualities. This is the quintessence of sin—
the darkest phase of depravity. It was this
extremity of sin that excited the cfy, "Cru
cify him—crucify him.”
“Now, Alice—dear, sweet, lovely Alice,
God bless vou, my child, and farewell,” she
concluded, kissing her again and again.
Alice turned her wondrous blue eyes in a
fixed and mute gate on Angelica’s face like
an infant timidly seeking to read its moth'
er s meaning when she has been scolding it.
“Why,” thought Alice, “did she think it
necessary to tell me that Mr. Beattie is noth
ing to her? Why did she think such a
thought might enter my mind, when she has
told me she was about to be married?” And
then she cast her eyes down at the ring and
felt some repugnance to wearing it, A vayue
and almost unconscious suspicion of treach
ery had found a lodgment in her mind, Tne
deceiver had over-acted her part, and her
manner, voice and countenance were too im
passive and artificial to 'Xpress sympathy or
a just indignation at a great wrong done to
one affirmed to be dearly loved, Alice was
too void of evil herself though, to c jnceive of
the possibility of such evil in the other.
Neither could she conceive of a deliberate
motive in any one for doing her any harm,
much less for trying to ruin her; nor could
she in the review of her life find the slight
est ground for a misconception or error of
judgment in passing upon her conduct; for
her life had been a perfect model of maiden
ly propriety and amiability. She was there
fore utterly in a maze, not knowing what to
do.
Now, while Angelica kept a strict and con
tinual watch over Susan Beuzley and Simon
White by hired spies, as they both knew, and
forbade them to speak one word to Alice, or
to go to the house unless in her presence, yet
Susan, chafing and fretting at the criminal
machinations against Alice, stepped boldly
and unannounced into Mrs. Braxton’s room
when Angelica went into Alice's to take
leave of her, and drawing near her with a
motion to be silent, whispered hurriedly:
“Mrs. Braxton—Mrs. Braxton, don’t you
believe one word that girl has told you about
Miss Alice, for 1 know she came here to make
mischief. She wrote the letter that was
shoved under your door, and, as I know what
she is, I am sure she filled it with lies. 1 live
in Kent, and lived in the family Miss Alice
boarded in, and know all about all of them.
The whole thing is about Mr. Beattie. An
gelica Burton tried to catch him, and though
Miss Alice did not try, she did catch him;
and this made Angelica Burton bate her.
and she made her father refuse to board her
longer, and to break up her school, for ev
erybody there is afraid of him. And al
though she is engaged to get married, she is
trying now to catch Mr. Beattie, not because
she can love anybody much, but because she
hates Mias Alioe, and wants to make him
leave Miss Alice. Miss Alice is an angeL
There is no harm in her. And the other is a
devil, and no good in her.”
Thus concluding she hurried out to her
post again.
Mrs. Braxton sat in mute wonder and as
tonishment, and shaking her head, a length
said to herself:
“But how shall we know which speaks
truth? How can we know this servant is not
bribed and put up to this? Somebody is
guilty, and if we cannot find out who is the
guilty one, this girl cannot stay here. It does
not look well that a maid servant should take
part against her own mistress, and the cause
seems too trifling for such an awful revenge,
especially as she is about to be married. The
thing seems unnatural for one so young, so
beautiful, and so elegant in her manners,
though she did call her a devil.”
The thoughts and feelings of the guilty one
as she rolled along in her splendid carriage
were of an uncertain and vacillating nature.
At one moment she would exult in the pros
pect of a certain triumph over Alice, and of
the desolation that must follow it; for it was
gall and wormwood for her to reflect that
Felix Beattie had preferred Alice to her; and
to see her forsaken and utterly humiliated on
account of it was a greatly coveted sweet
morsel to be rolled under her tongue. Then,
at another time, she was troubled at Alice’s
mute and, as it seemed to her, defiant and
distrustful manner: and to her guiltv mind
the Scripture quotations, and the confidence
she declared they had given her, seemed to
be aimed at her- and if Alice should accuse
her of treachery to Felix she felt assured
that all would be lost. Thus, though she was
to be married at once, she c >uid ’not endure
the thought that Alice should triumphantly
bold the prize for which she had competed
and failed. Nor could she bear that Felix
should confirm by marriage his preference oi
Alice to her. Aud as she could not undo the
great superiority of Alice’s family descent
over her own, she would cast a mildew upon
her reputation. Such blots upon human na
ture are the footprints of fierce, unbridle*
passions concentrated in the focus of utter
selfishness, or where the whole being of body
and spirit is is*dated from all sympathy or
fellow-feeling with aught else and is whi liy
atisorbed in self. With such a being, what
ever crosses the will or stands in the w ay of
gratification is an enemy—a thing to be hated
and destroyed, whether the obstruction be
natural, incidental, or intentional.
(to Be continued !
6ELLADAIR;
—OR,—
The Burwell Family.
The Fats of a Wealthy South
ern llottweholU.
BY GAGE HEMPSTEAD,
Author of “ META.”
CHAPTER XXV.
“Then the bhadows cessed from weeping.
Cessed from sobbing aud lamenting.”
“We have put you to the trial.
To the proof have pet your patience.”
—Longfellow.
“Now, Pbeniel What are these! Tears?
Weil, did 1 everl But it’s the way with a
woman! She’ll work and strive till there’s
no end to it. Wh .t she can’t move she’ll try
to move though every body except her can
see it can’t be done. Then when some body
else comes along and does everything just to
ber mind she’ll sit right down and cry I that’*
a woman. Now a man in your place would
just fling out his fUg and holler till he was
hca te, that he wour\”
There was no answer to Mrs. Benton for
Euphenie was fairly employed in tbe luxury
of weeping, in all this time she had given
waking, even sleeping moments to work for
tho->e dear to her, now rest had come, and
the long pent up tears fl >wed freely.
"Paeiiie, Pbeniel don’t you suppose that
after those men have ridden so many miles
they’d like just a little diuner? I think you
bad better be considering their wolfish appe
tites instead of drowning yourself in tears.”
This little speech had the desired effect of
arousing Euphenie to the fact that she really
had not yet the time for the indulgence she
was giving herself. While the dimples play
ed on her cheeks she said:
“Yes, I know, and I will go this minute
and make ready for the best, the dearest,
and noblest men alive.”
"D* yon include Mr. Ambrose in all you
say, Phenie?”
"He is one of the noblest, the best and the
dearest likewise to those who have the right
to love him.”
“I liked the young man the time 1 first set
my eves on him. Now if Kittie hadn’t gone
and whisked off with Mr. Ainsley I’d a had
her cap set for him, but then I reckin it
would have been like it was with Arthur
May, you’d a taken tne prize right before her
a window but Mrs. Benton coni
le ^‘Now, Phenie, you needn’t be offended,
but 1 have my notions and one is that this
Henry Ambrose will be a good match for
you, and both cf you will find it out some
day.”
• Oh! Mrs. Benton, how can you talk so?”
said Euphenie in pained tones.
“Well, you may ‘oh? Mrs. Benton,’ now.”
said tbe tormentor, imitating Eupbenie’s
tone, “bat all of that will be changed in a
twinkling when you come to talk the matter
over between yourselves. Now do you think
if I was a widow I’d deny every man the
right to love, cherish and protect me because
my dead husband couldn’t pull me out of a
fire if I was in one?”
“Happily you know nothing of a widow’s
feelings, my dear friend.”
“Be sure if I did I’d like them so little I’d
not stand them long.” ,
At this characteristic speech Euphenie
laughed, the old hearty laugh of the days
before her father’s trouble.
“There now, that’s nice, laugh away, Phe
nie, for your dimples are so becoming and
they haye net been seen in an age. Mr. Am
brose must see them to-day if I have to turn
over the kettle to bring them about. I tell
you, Pneuie,” and the lady dropped her voice
to its lowest tone, “I’m not joking, but this
man is my choice for you. Mr. Benton says
he is a prince of a man. Now I don’t go that
high, especially men, but I will say this
much if he is not even with Arthur May he
comes next to him. Arthur May was ready
every day of his life to do just the deed Mr.
Ambrose has done. It would have been no
strain to him, for he kept himself to that
pitch that he could do a good thing, let it
i ise ever so high, as easy and as naturally as
he could draw his breath. I don’t know
whether this man did what be did do with a
stress upon his heart or not. To be on an
even pace with Arthur May he had to feel
that he’d a rather done it if it cost his crop
than to have gone home and left you all
here to be hung by that Hastings and
Dwight”
“An! he is good, Mrs. Bennett, and he
loves to do good I know, but as to his future
partner, no doubt she is in her mountain
dome awaiting him.”
“Well, we wont quarrel about him, Phenie,
but I know, or think I do, that she is not in
his mountain home awaiting him, but here
getting his dinner.”
There was a clatter of horses hoofs and a
whirr of wheels at the gate. The ladies,
with little Cheerie, were in time to see Mr.
Ambrose helping Gen. Burnelie from his seat.
He had been ill in jail for some days, and
was able to stand only with the firm support
of the strong young man. When he beheld
his dear old wife, whose sufferings were vis
ible in her attenuated frame, a rush of com-
passiorate love and joy overcame him. and
for the first time he wept from the excess of
emotion. The sight of these two gray-haired
ones, husband and wife, in this meeting,
wherein a wasting grief was spanned by a
present gladness, struck the chord of sym
pathy and all eyes were bedewed in tears,
even Henry Ambrose felt the briny drops
course down his manly face.
With one hand on Euphanie’s shoulder, the
other in his wife’s cloee grasp, he walked
slowly into the little home that had become
an earthly Eden|to them all. The best chair
was given him, and these two and little
Cheerie, and thess other two who had come
close, so very close to their grateful hearts,
gathered about him. They spoke the words
they thought would cheer him, and not even
the slightest act that might comfort him was
left undone. ....
The light was in his eyes which bespoke of
rest in mind and heart, but over the broken,
bowed frame, weakness, weariness was writ
ten. When he spoke in the words of thank
fulness that he was free and home again, or
in gratitude to his deliverer, and that other
whose heart was so faithful, there was that
slow, far away tone, whieh belongs to the
aged and troubled ones. By the quick in
stinct of love these dear onee saw all glad
ness must beheld in obeyance and gently,
tenderly the old life must be wooed back to
its wonted power and rest
In the cool of the evening Henry Ambrose
was ready to go, that be might take the mid
night train at Dewry’s. It was plainly a
snadow upon this day, his going away.
“1 feel that I must see you so many times
before I can utter tbe fulness of my i hanks,
and yet you must leave at once, said Gen.
Burwell, bolding the hand of his guest in a
warm clasp.”
“I would be tbe most unwilling leave-taker
in the world but for my old motbeiC who
waits on oar porch every evening, 1 know,
for my coming.” %
“It is bard to give yon op, yet we ac
knowledge ber cliim and must yield.. You
will make us a promise, however, and that
will be to come back and stay with us as long
as possible. Will you not?'’
“I shall certainly do so, with pleasure,”
said Henry, a delicate blush mantling bis
face wbich was not lost on Mrs. Bennett, at
'east. He W8S followed to tbe gate, even
E ipbenie, it seemed, bad to go to help sup
port ber father, as be walked one arm on
rienry Ambrose, the other on his daughter’s
shoulder. Each adieu was a blessing, nay
more to tbe man who was coveting more, an
involuntary offering of warm esteem that
was ready to burst into affection that would
make one family of them his own.
Cnerrie looked on wondenngly, then finally
comprehending what was about to occur,
she caught Mr. Ambrose’s hands and cried in
ber baby vehemence: "No! nol you sant
dol Tay here wid we aud be my udder
D inpal pease my Bose turn back.” Sue was
answered by many a kiss as ber motber ex
tricated her from the hands to which she was
clinging.
CHAPTER XXVI. .
But ills of every sbade and every name w
i r .nsfoimed to blessings, miss their cruel aim;
But every nioineul’s calm that soothes the breast
is given as earnest of eternal rest.
— Cooper.
“Motber. I have seen the woman I would
call my wite. Now, when I am uearii g my
thirtieth year, after expecting to finish my
life unmated, uuioved, for 1 have utver en
countered the love dream tbat every man
has, she has come! In tbe first moment ot
• iur meeting she trusted me with a strange,
sweet trust. One part is hard to see. 1 X*s< 1
chat I have known and loved her in all 1 hese
years of manhood, tb s flesh and blood wo
man who comes to me now, after being my
ideal in the dim distance of forgotten tin e.”
“Djes she love you, Henry I” asked the
mother, while ber eyes brightened gladly.
"How do I know, mother? 1 uever gave
voice to my heart’s language. I was doing
them that service, aud tbat threw us into
close companionship, so close that it appear
ed to me 1 had but to lift my hand and
beckon her soul to mine, and the same po
tent voice which bore mine to hers would
bring in return her spirit to me.”
“Henry,” said the mother, with the joy
laughter in her ayes, “feeling as you did. 1
would have surely beckoned this answering
spirit.” !
"But, mother, another had been there be
fore me; a soul like unto mine, and be had
called, aud she had gone to rest in his heart.”
“Henry, how can this be? Surely my sou
is not the man to have been misled by a
married woman 1”
"No, mother; but she had been married,
and her beait still clings to the memory ot
tbe man who was worthy of all her lavish
love and devotion. This thought comes:
will her mind remain absorbed in this con
templation, until blinded, she will not dis
cern that i ain beside her to occupy his place,
not to extinguish his memory. Tnat l am
there to receive and rtturn the warm, faith
ful affection which he can no longer bestow.”
“Au! Henry,” said the widowed 'wife,
longing for the meeting with her mats on the
golden shore, “can you think we will not
know and Jove our lost ones even with a
deeper love than ever we knew here.”
“Heaven is the realm of love, dearest
mother. Holy, tender, sweet is the love
kuown there. It is as much purer, higher
than our earth loves as tbe angelic body is
exalted above this body of flesh. We would
no sooner ask for an earth love there, than
we would call for the Old body of aching
bones and fevered fl ?sb.
unite bei
pain? Yet in all these love* of
wife, father and mother, brothsr and aMsr-
friend pnd friend, there lingers not one ele,
ment of immorality. The story of meeting
again our dead with the same sweet love of
earth is pleasing, but we would not be in
heaven if such affections were to beset us
there. The bonds tbat bin! families will be
broken, because there will bo longer exist
the necessity for these tender relationships,
and heaven has no supei fluous ordinances.
The one family there will be of the living
God; no other can exist. Fcienda will clasp
the hands of friends because they were one
in spirit as to their love to God and to each
other. Husbands and wives will meet and
love from tue same cause tbat their hearts
flow toward the same great center. Ahl
dearest motber, we need not fear that we
will miss a moment any love known here in
tuat land where the heart’s rich music is one
strain of exalted God-given love! You,
whose heart is so loving, will find a wealth ot
work in your mansion; for ten thousand will
come and ask for the love which it will be
your joy to bestow in the fullest measure.”
“Your ideas take away the selfishness of
the love which would go about seekii-g its
own in heaven. 1 can never tire of thinking
of tbat one sentence God is love. Mind you,
Henry, how love works, how it suffers, en
dures, forgives, then tLiink this attribute be
longs to God in all its vast depth. It takes such
love to bring Him to us, creatures so inferior
and unworthy. Tbe thought of His oorapas
gion is too deep for me. How can 1 help
turning to the poores:, the lowest, the vilest,
glad that I can heed them w hen 1 know they
are His—that in ways we know not He is
sifting them as wheat from the chaff.”
There was no reply. Each seemed to be
pondering questions in mind evoked by their
words.
“And you say, Henry these people you
staid to help were poor friendless, and well
nigh forsaken?” The mother asked looking
earnestly into his face, as if no other idea
had absorbed her.
“Yes, mother. They had been rich and
honored, but were painfully destitute of
friends and comforts. The one friend left
them was laid on a bed of sickness.”
“And you met this woman there, while you
were doing them that service?”
“Yes, she is the youngest daughter of this
old Impoverished house.”
“Who knows, Henry, we see so darkly,
but who knows your good deed to these peo
ple may be returned to you by God with a
good wife, and I with a daughter to comfort
my last days.” „
“May it De so, Mother,” said Henry Am
brose smiling, then rising he kissed the face
grown old, but a beautiful face to him, and
went out into the fields where his reapers
were sheaving the golden wheat.
Weeks have passed and now we find Henry
Ambrose at Beiladair. He is walking under
the shadow of tbe grand old trees, but not
alone for Euphenie is beside him and ber
hand rests trustfully in his. A great trust,
a warm esteem, harbingereda pore deathless
love. The memory of her dead was no less
sacred because a strong living love came to
scatter the gloom of lonely, helpless widow
hood. (
There were no costly silks and laces, no
orange blossoms this time for the bride, but
in ber simple travelling dress she command
ed the homage of at least three of the noblest
of men.
“Go forth my daughter from this home to
another. I give you no admonition, no ad
vice for well have yon done your part Kind
ness has dwelt on your tongue, your feet have
been swift to do good, and wisdom has dwelt
in all your ways.” This was Mr. Benton’s
parting benediction to Henry Ambrose’s
bride.
There was another couple to leave Beila
dair Near half a century gone their bridal
vows had been taken, and now they were
waiting for the coming of the Bridegroom
who would lead them to the marriage supper
of the Lamb. Until tbat time they were to
tarry at 8pringvale, where Henry Ambrose
had prepared them a restful, even luxurious
home.
[the end]
DON JOAQUIN
And His Flag;
OB THE
SPANISH BUCCANEER
BY UEDT. FELIX.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
“Well gent lent n,” continued tbe commo
dote, “lor some wet ks after the e occurren
ces we sailed about the keys, touching here
and there, until at last we dropped anchor in
Havana, took in stores and water, and then
continued the cruise. Our orders were to
oeat up the south side of Cuba, where we ex
pected to fall in with the rest of the fleet
and other vessels sent out by the king of
Spain, who had orders to destroy all the
nests of pirates who had for years infested
“Well, m the course of rime we beat all
ai ound the soutb side of Cuba, and at the
last we dropped anchor in So. Jago, where
we learned trom the king’s fiscal agent, that
tour or five fellows who had been wrecked
on ihe Cavalla coast reefs were identified as
having been part of a piratical crew who had
neeu sent ih re in irons for trial. The trutri
of the matter was. gentlemen, the king of
Spain had so long connived, winked at, tol
erated, or was ludfferent to what was go
mg on upon tne high seas or in other words
Spanish waters that he allowed tnese pirati -
cal hordes to exist and thrive at his very
door. The matter had been brought to the
notice of the administrator of the port, and
all other ports along tbe Spanish coast, and
n such a threatening mauner. too, (bat the
governor at £>t. Jago txerted himself to the
utmost in the arrest of i he rascals 1 have al
luded too and also in procuring infoi mation
by dispatching a guards costa along the
south side of tne island. Accordingly, the
very morning I went on shore with the cap
tain of the custom house, we met the ad
minisirator’s deputy and a little dried up vil
lunous looking rascal, who was in the coloni
al service, and who professed to know the
haunt of Don Joaquin the pirate, or at
least, said he thought he did. I remember
spreading a chart before him, and while he
traced with the point oi his stilleto, which he
drew from out his coat sleeve.a course fur the
captain to steer by, I stood and eyed him
closely, but the fact was, he had the sharpest
pair of adder eyes, small keen and pieremg,
*. t in his forehead that t ver I saw in a human
being’s bead,aud instead of me watching him
he seemed to be looking straight through me,
and diviniDg my very thoughts and suspi
cions. However, friends,the spot he pointed
out. and the way he described it, so nearly
corresponded with tbe account the dying pi
rate gave us, that the captain was convinced
we were on the scent, though I myself, was
not more than half satisfied. The place in
dicated was near the isle of Pines three hun
dred miles off, but to make the thing more
plausible, that old Spani-h scoundrel was de
tailed to run along the Twelve League keys,
to see what information he could hunt up,
and then follow down after us.
“That night we were off ' gain, and ran
down the coast with a good offing to keep the
wind until we got to the ground and had
pas-e i in by Capt St. Francis, and doubled
round into the sight of Pines. There we fell
in with the rest of our fluet, who informed us
that they had reached every accessible
spot where a man could walk dry shod, that
they bad destroyed six old piratical nests,
and hung three old fisherman by way of
warning to tbeir allies, the pirates, and from
what they had learned, these did not seem
to have been any established retreat in tbat
maze of keys and reefs for five years. Bo you
see friends, we had onr cruise for nothing,
then the captain agreed with me that we
had been wot fully deceived by the old Span-
we hauled onr wind once m- re, and
1 E^WWJUi
^ ■ i u bee; autt after
beat of Coir or five days we again edged in
toward the coast with tbe keys on the west
ernmost side. It was early in the morning
when we made the land, and standing close
in, we got a good start off the shore and
kept the glasses going from tbe topmast
crosstrees down, all through the day. As
for myself 1 scarcely took the glass from my
eyes for seven loDg hoars.
“About the middle of the afternoon, how
ever, the weather came up hazy, tbe wind
began to fall off, and the mercury in the ba
rometer began to exhibit very queer spasms
indeed, rising with a sort of jerk and then
dropping down the tenth of an inch at a slip,
with the atmosphere close and sultry and the
men gasping about the decks as if they were
ab iU5 to cnoke for the want of air. This was
during the hurricane months, and the indica
tions certainly should have led us as far as
our sails could carry us to open water instead
of being caught perhaps with a thousand
reefs around us on wbat might prove a lee
shore. Nevertheless, the captain decided to
bold on till sunset and then make an offiag.
Tbe breeze still held in the upper sails, so we
dipped on in smooth water till about five
o’clock, when I heard a fellow sing out from
the main royal yard:
‘Ou deck here! I can see a crag on an island
here on the port-bow.’
"Before the words were well out of his
mouth, I caught sight of the craggy peak.and
1 knew at first sight that it was tbe spot we
were looking for. At the same time the haze
cleared up a bit, and we saw everything as
tbe haunt of that pirate Joaquin had been de
scribed to us by the dying pirate.
"In a minute we were all alive on board the
War Horse, and tbe captain resolved to dash
in upon the scoundrels and capture them be-
foie they had time to leave their nest. Well,
the water engine was rigged and water
thrown over the sails to make the canvas
hold the wind, and in an hc-ur we were with
in two leagues of tbe island, and just as the
sun fell below the horizon, we ought sight
of the mast heads of a vessel sticking up over
some bluff rocks near the shore.
“Five minutes later the hull of the craft
came slowly out from the gap under all sail,
and we discovered her to be a long and rath
er lumbering brigantine, painted Blate color
and bearing no resemblance whatever to the
schooner we had ice chased before. Simul
taneously, however, with her coming into
full view as she rounded in her head yards
and got a pull at the main sheet with the
wind abeam, and heading to the eastward, we
beheld a gr. at volume of smoke rising up
over the rock with a vivid sheet of flame at
the base, and soon after a great conflagra
tion burst forth, swirling flakes of fire
all over the island, and casting a lurid glare
on the water around us.
“If the fellow, whoever he was, skipping
away in that lazy looking brigatine with
English colors at the peak, had written down
in detail what he had been doing on that
secluded island, and sent the information to
ns in a letter, we could have read it without
breaking tbe seal. We could have told him
that tbat little Spanish adder-eyed scoun
drel had intentionally misled us, and had
given him warning to leave his stronghold,
and that he had hastily got his plunder and
crew on board his vessel and set fire to the
piratical den, and that the brigantine he was
now on board of the once notorious schooner
Pindar. Well, gentlemen, I will tell you
bow wa acted upon it”
Byron sat with bis eyes fixed upon the
speaker, taking in every word as it tell from
his lips, his teeth set together, and his right
and clenche i Patrick Murphy was scratch
ing his red head, and Herngo was looking at
the commodore, while Lieutenant Hardy
sipped his wine and smoked his cigar as if he
knew the whole story by heart.
“To resume, gentlemen, a light breeze per
haps in the main royals, bat not a whiff ot
a breeze below there. But as we hau’e I
down our colon at the firing of the sunset
gun, which had been hoisted to let the fellow
know who we were, down came his also.
There we both lay looking at each other. He
knew by experience that we were the corvette
War Horse mounting eighteen twenty-four
pound carronades, and two long eighteen
pounders in the bow ports, for the brigantine
nad once or twice known their exact calibre,
and that we were the fleetest cruiser with tb**
wind a point or two free that had been in the
king’s service for many a year. Yes, he
knew all about us, but he was still a little in
doubt whether we knew all about him. WelL
he lay a little beyond tbe range of our long
guns, or else he might have been spared a
good deal of time and uneasiness of mind,
and we long chase and considerable risk.
Night came on, and the very fires he had
kindled in bis den on shore prevented his es
cape; for while the calm lasted the light from
the flumes shone upon him like the glare of
Milton’s hell.
“We lav there all that night without making
a mile until day dawned, but such a day as
did dawn. Meanwhile the barometer had
fallen one inch and a half, until tbe master
thought the bulb leaked and the mercury was
dropping into the case. Then through the
murky g oom of daylight, with the sea one
flit greasy surface with not even the jump of
a dolphin to disturb it, while the faintest,
whisper of the topmen could be distinctly
heard on deck, a* if we wt ra suspended in a
va -uum rf an exhausted reciever wl ere a
thistle blow would drop like a bullet. Sud
denly there came a sound from tbe direction
of the keys.
“Well, we run a similar risk, though the
cloudy embrasures over the island had not
quits enough thunder to reach us. However,
the brigautine knew what would follow as
well as we did, and perhaps, better and be
fore one could think. She was stripped as
bare as a bone, and down came berjyards, too.
but keeping tbe sticks up, and spreading a
patch of a storm staysail forwani. Her
decks and rigging were crowded with men,
while she was doing all this, but the instant
it was done —and well done, too, for that
pirate of a Joaquin is a splendid and thorough
jflamflTi—they ran into their holes below like
,o n any : ats.
“Ail hauds had been called on board tbe
War Horse at four o’clock, and with the ex
eeption of securing the battery, evert thins
j as ready to make a skeleton o! t e h p the
moment we saw the brigantine begin; for she
was a wary old shark, and we had no idea of
letting ber sbp from our fingers the third
time. I stood with the trumpet in my hand,
and the captain stood at my elbow, and the
instant he saw that the brigantine was once
more rigged nearly in her old way, he gave
me the v ord.
“ ‘Now, Mr. Cromwell, work sharp.’
“With the men aloft, jumpingabout like so
many weasels, the lignt sails, studding sail
booms, royal and top gallant yard, came
down, the top gallant masts after them, and
the flying jib boom rigged in. Then the top
sails close reefed and fouled with extra gas
kets, and so with the courses, preventer
braces clapped on, rolling tackles booked and
the spare purchases set up by the lower pen
nants. Meantime the divisions on deck had
got hawsers over tbe launch amidships, the
chains unbent, the anchors lashed down on
the forecastle, and tbe quarter boats triced
well in board and secured with the davits If
I do say it, I never beheld a smarter piece of
work done afloat.
“As 1 turned round, a hoarse, howling bel
low struck my ear from the island, and I
caught sight of the tall cocoanut trees flying
round and round in the air like inverted um
brellas with a broken stick; by this time tbe
men aloft bad reached the deck and jumping
to tbe battery, the guns were run in and
housed, spare breachings and extra lashings
passed, and life lines rove fore and aft. After
that was done, gentlemen, there was no furth
er need of a trumpet, you all know what sort
of a thing a tropical hurricane is, and the
one I speak of, must, I think, have given you
a touch of its quality here in Jamaica.”
“And be jaobers! didn’t we remember it
well, sit ? Bad luck to Mister Huegiacano.
for he didn’t have a single stalk of sugar
cane standing from the bay of Montego to
Cape Antonio,” said Murphy.
“Yes,” broke in Frazier, "and to show you
wbat a puff of wind can do; the whirl of it
caught up a twenty foot Honduras plank of
logwood and laid it crosswise seven inches
into an old tamarind tree standing in my
garden, and then twisted off the ends like a
pipe stem.”
“Byson was thinking of tbe ships that
were driving before that hurricane with no
Thought'6f ms sugdFpIafitatTdn.” ~ ’ ' -
“Well,” resumed the commodore, putting
down his enrotied wineglass, “you need only
fancy a frigate blown every where aud every
how except out of water, now with the lower
yai dauna cutting deep into the sea like r ikes,
the lee hammock netting under water, the
stern boat torn away into splinters, the main
topsail picked bolt by bolt from the yard un
til there was not a thread left, and the lee
anchor twisted bodily out of its lashings and
swept overboard.
“But the War Horse had a frame of live
oak, to say nothing of two or three acres of
rough, yellow pine timber in her and tons of
fibrous hemp to hold up the masts, and more
over, she was well manned, and if I do say
it. she bad a skillful captain and thorough
officers, in whose sagacity the crew could
rely to manage that old corvette, War
Hors-
“That is so. commodore.” exclaimed Mr.
Hardy, “and the most skillful and the cool
's'; of them all, was the first lieutenant.”
Here the Antelope’s executive officer bounded
from his chair as if he was prepared to fight
any man on board who did not subscribe to
that opinion.
“Well, friends, that hurricane continued
for twenty-six hours, and as for day, there
was none, for the sea and black clouds made
one long terrible night of it. But as kind
fortune would have it, we had been driven
off shore, and when the murky gloom broke
away, and we were able to look around us,
our first anxiety was to see what bad become
of the brigantine, yes, and I truly believe, in
all that turmoil of the elements, tbat there
was not an officer or a seaman on board but
wbat was thinking of that pirate, Joaquin,
and hoping that he might go down to Davy's
locker first. I, however, felt a sort of confi
dence as I was held lashed on the poop by the
m'zzm rigging tbat the brigantine might be
caught and whirled about by tbe same blows
of the hurricane that beat upon the corvette,
and when the tornado broke, and a reefer
sung out, ’Sail, hoi' I knew by instinct it
must be the brigantine Pindar.”
I TO BE CONTINUED 1
My Ghostly Visitor.
A German Student’s Strange
Story.
It was wb'le I was attending lectures at
’he University at Leipsic that I came under
the influence of the remarkable man whose
very name brings a strange shiver through
my nerves, lie m inn Kreitzel was this mem
orable name. The mad who bore it was
young, not more than twenty-five, studious
and reserved—almost a hermit, so pointedly
did he shun the social and convivial side of
student life. Yet be was wonderfully pre
possessing, fascinating when he chose to
throw off this sombre cloak of reserve. Si
lent usually, he could yet when he bad you
alone with him talk with a power and elo
quence I never heard in any other man. _ At
such times his cold, pale face glowed into
mirvelons beauty—a beauty that repelled
while it attracted me.
His views were speculative, materialistic—
altogether antagonistic to those which I—a
boy trained by a Christian mother—had
brought with me to Leipsic. He promulgat
ed these views gradually, insidiously, until I
grew accustomed to hearing them discussed.
Then his vein of skepticism showed darker.
He presented his skeptical opinions boldly,
eloquently, with such force, brilliancy and
earnestness that I became a proselyte to his
sentiments.
His cynicism and larking contemptuousness
infected me more and more as the months
rolled on, till my entire nature was meta
morphosed. Formerly joyous and social, I
grew morbidly melancholy and avoided com
panionship with any save him. The sense of
discomfort, ever perceptible when in his pres
ence, was one of absolute £ ear , I was
away from him. 1 fully realized that he was
rapidly, purposely, and completely gaining
the mastery of my mind; why he deeired to
do this, I could not conceive.
Confident tbe onl r preventive of the men
tal demoralization threatening me—which,
possibly, might merge into insanity—would
be found in a departure from Leipsic, I, with
an almost superhuman effort, burst my fet
ters and, without having signified my inten
tion to any one, in early summer left the ci y
—uncertain whither or how far my wander
ings would extend. I resolved to nn.ke a
purely pedestrian tour, and to avoid all large
ly ^-populated places.
Quite by accident, I directed my steps to
ward the Rhine, which 1 reached at a point
near the northern extremity of the Black
Forest Mountains; and, determined to enj iy
whatever was enjoyable, so leisurely did [
move, it was past the middle of July when I
arrived at Lake Constance.
One afternoon, as I reclined on the velvety
greensward fringing the shore of tbe lake, i
was suddenly impressed with a vague sensa
tion of impending danger. Turning half
round on my elbow to shake off the uncom
fortable feeling and at the fame time to as
sure myself there was no cause for it, whom
should 1 see but Hermann Kreitzsl!
He stood only a few feet away, his hands
clasped behind his back, his eyes fastened up
on me. His features were paler than was
their wont, thm and attenuated; and one
cheek was disfiguied by a broad, red cica
trix. His eyes, hollow and sunken, were cir
cled with heavy, purple rings, and appeared
to be overcast with a corpse-like film.
“S > here you are,” he said, advancing to
ward me.
“Yes, here I am,” I replied, rising from
my recumbent posture and taking his out
stretched hand. It felt like a piece of m ir-
ble, and I continued: “Yov are cold. Are
} ou ill?”
“I am entirely well.”
“Why have you come here? How did you
learn of my whereabouts?”
“The knowledge came to me,” replied the
strange, low, far-off sounding voice. “I al-o
know that you came here to escape from me.
And 1 have sought you to tell you to return.
You have no longer anything to fear from
my evil influence.”
There was a mournful, hollow cadence in
tbe tones, they thrilled me from head to foot.
He continued:
“1 came, too, to bid you renounce your
searching into the secrets of the lofiidte. It
is vain. Mortal can never comprehend tbe
mysteries of the U. known This" is the only
true philosophy—accept everything as wisely
ordered; sink self as much as possible in your
care for others. I have wasted my years in
vain speculation; I have infected you with
the poison of research. I see my folly, my
sin plainly now. Forget my teachings; re
turn to Leipsic; you will not see me tnere
again. You will never see me till we meet
in the great Hereafter, Lebn Sie Wohl."
' He touched my hand w ith fingers whose
coldness sent a chill through my frame; and
in a second he was gone. His tall form
seemed to melt in tbe misty, purple gloam
ing.
1 was unable any longer to enjoy the soli
tude and silence of my sylvan retreat. 1 set
out in a few days for Leipsic. The students
welcomed me cordially. Presently I said:
“Kreitzd has left you.”
"Yes, poor fellow, he has gone,” very seri
ously.
“1 presume he was, to the last, as uncom
municative as usual and informed no one
why or where he was going?”
“Don’t yon know he is dead?”
“Dead?” I repeated.
“He was killed by lightning in the fore
noon of July twenty-sixtn.”
“My God!” I exclaimed, not profanely;
for it was on the afternoon of that day when
ne visited me.
“What- is the matter?” asked one of the
students, and I related what the reader al
ready knows.
Yes, 1 saw him, took him by the hand,con
versed with him, at a time when he lay dead
in a city many miles from where I then was.
Doubtless the cicatrix visible on his che* k
was caused by the bolt that killed him. Nj
wonder he was pale, attenuated, cold; that
he was completely at rest; that he could
clearly perceive the errors of his life. Im
aginative, my teeing him? It was as real as
.anything I everJtnqw I , -f- «
May it be tne rapport existing between ns
was so strong that his spirit, when freed by
death from the restraint of the grosser ma
terial elements, was able to communicate
with minel
STRUCK BY GRAVEL
A Cafee in Which Defendants Se
cured u Verdict.
The other night a number of men were sit
ting in front of the Ormsbv House, Cirsoa
City,discussing the big mining suit in Eureka
between the Richmond and Albion. General
Kittrell, W. W. B shop, Sine. Barnes. John
ny Moore and others were interesting the
crowd with recitals of the various suits they
had seen. Said one narrator: “There was a
Virginia mining case a good many years ago.
Several hundred feet were involved and I
was one of the jury. 1 was handed three
hundred by one side and seven hundred by
the other, and saw another juror pretty well
heeled. We talked the matter over, and l
told him I guessed we would’nt see any more
money. ‘Ob, yon will,’ said he; ‘this is only
the pattering drops of the rain that foret lls
of the coming storm. It’ll be a drencher,and
we’ll all get wet through.’
“I had to laugh at tbe.big lawyer’s tearing
himself in two making speeches that didn’t
have any more effect on us than so much
wind. When the evidence was all in and
the speeches concluded, I couldn’t recollect a
point in the case. In fact, I was busy won
dering where the next outside money was
coming from and trying to calculate, from
studying the faces of my pals, how much
each had got. Well, we finally went to the
jury room to get a virdict ‘We can’t form
a hasty verdict in a case like this,’ said the
foreman; ‘we must pause and reflect.’ Then
we all laughed, and we sat about fifteen min
utes reflecting. Presently somegravel struck
the hack window, and the foreman leaned
tut and said: ‘What do you want ?’
“ ‘Thro w down a rope,’ said the voice, and
the foreman, who seemed to have all ready,
lowered it down. Up came a basket of
champagne, and as he looked at the tag, he
said: ‘This is from the defendants,’ go we
drank their health, and in about an hour we
got another bite on the line, and pulled up
an old gum boot with fifteen hundred dollars
in it. Tuis, he said, was plaintiff’s contribu
tion. We divided the money and played
poker for it. By midnight three of us had
all the swag, and then a sack with four thou
sand dollars in it came up, and we divided
and started a fresh game. Whenever the
gravel struck the window we pulled up
something. It was an interesting case,
and by four o’clock in the morning the
gravel and coin gave out, and we fig
ured on a verdict. The defendants evi
dence, as it laid there on the table, pre
ponderated by a thousand doilars, apparent
ly, and we ware about to find when we saw
that there was fifteen hundred more to be
counted. All hands were so full that we
couldn’t tell to save us which side of the col
umn to put that money on, and things got so
mixed up that we concluded to do the fair
thing all round and say that we couldn t
agree. Finally it was suggested to stay out
another day, which we did, and
dence coming up the rope, settled the bum
oess, and found for the defendants. Some of
the leading points sprang on us were very
complicated things to wrestle with, and three
dollars a day didn’t begin to pay us, you
A young man does not always respect the
woman he admires, and the young lady who
attracts a crowd of young men to her side by
her loud behaviour and too gay laughter,
need not flatter herself that such admiration
is to be envied by any other girL
It is rumored that Conkling will run for
Congress in Miller’s district, and if elected
will push for the speakership. Platt might
also try to get into Cougress from Lapham’s
district Conkliug without Meh-Too in his
rain would be like a comet minus a tail.