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THE SUNNY SOUTH
•Don’t y.u think some orestole it from
you. your brother for instance?”
“No he left me before I loet it, went off on
a drunken »pree with some fellows he fell in
with, and I have not seen him since. And
then after losing all you gave me. you sent
me more to come home with, how very kind
it was in you,” laid Martha her voice full of
gratitude.
. “And still you thought I would never
come near you and Ralpbe eg. in! After
this rest assured as long as I have anything
on which to live, you nor Ralphie shall not
suffer.”
“I always knew you were the best man in
the world,” said Martha, still sobbing in-
wardlv, "but you have broken my heart,
Yes, James you have broken my heart.”
Then burying her face in the sofa pillow,
she wept, moaned, and talked Incoherently.
The little boy accustomed of late to seeibg
his mother in this mood, appeared not to
mind it, but kept on playing wi'h bis papa,
until the latter obliged to avail himself of
the outgoing train, kissed him, and took a
hasty departure.
“I have done wrong,” thought he, after he
was seated in the cars and bad a few mo
ments for reflection, “I have brought upon
myself, as well as her, a trouble that will be
a guest in this bosom as long as 1 continue to
breathe. And how the sweet boy that now
lores me so, will hate me when he grows up
and understands the deception I practiced
upon his mother. Why did 1 do i* ? ah, pride
and the love of a pretty face! still bad
Martha been near from the outset, her in
fluence would have saved me. Oh, most
miserable man that 1 am. She loved me as
few ever loved, and 1 have made a wreck of
her heart.”
On his arrival at the Palms, Archie met
him at the door all animation, for she had
just received a letter from her mother, and
anGther from Fitznoodle, but she said noth
ing about the latter, “but don’t you think,
James, dear,” she exclaimed, “Maud is going
to be married to Will Stiaw, in October, Oh,
isn’t it sudden, he will take her right home to
his mother’s who is a widow, and wealthy,
and then he will commence his medical
studies, but it is not likely be will ever prac
tice much, for he will be able to live without
it yet be is determined to have a profession.
And now that Maud is going to leave them,
mamma and Louise will not go to Edgewood
for the winter. Tney think they would be
entirely lost in that mammoth mansion, nor
could they afford fuel to warm it. Besides,
they have got to sell some of ttaeir furniture
to get money to live on through the winter.
So now 1 don’t suppose wo will go to spend
the holidays with them, James.”
“Suppose they come here and spend the
winter with you, Archie, while 1 am in Wash
ingtop?”
At first Archie was a little piqued at this
suggestion and answered a little pertly.
“Then I suppose you do not want me to
go with you?”
“Would not you be happier here,” he asked,
“where you can be your own mistress in
everything, but you can go, my dear, if you
wish.”
At the same time he did not mean she
should wish, knowing the scandalous rumors
they would both have to hear, and the scorn
they must encounter, after what had passed
at the time they were married; he hardly
dared to think of the possibility of his bearing
it all, himself. But having made up his
mind it was no more than right he should
suffer the remainder of his life for the enor
mous wrong he bad done, he concluded to
bear as patiently as possible all the accusa
tions against him. But if he could help it,
not a word of the scandal should come to
Archie’s ears. This he decided upon, hence
the barrier to her accompanying him to
Washington.
“Well, I believe I will send for mamma
and Louise as you advise, and stay home the
whole winter,” Archie said after being told
she could go with him or not; but there was
another coming for whom she would stay
home more cheerfully than for even these.
Fitznoodle had written that he would surely
. pay. Archp a yipit thq. January
And if her mamma and sister we
was si
come.
“But there is one thing, James; I have not
mentioned to you,” said Archie holding up
her mother’s letter, “and it is the funniest
circumstance that could happen. Louise,
one of the proudest and most rattle-headed
girls you ever saw, has been attending Meth
odist revival meetings, and become a con vert.
Mamma writes me there is the greatest
change in her she ever saw in any one. She
no longer caree for fashion, nor any worldly
pleasure, but goes around praying with the
sick and trying Jto help the poor, although
she is poor herself. And she says she is a
great help to her in encouraging her to rise
above her troubles. She is trying to learn
how to do all kinds of work so that she may
be enabled to make herself useful. So I sup
pose if we get her down here she will try to
make Methodists of us all.”
“1 hope she will be the means of making us
all better,” said Archie, “there is need of it.
Archie.”
Archie, not appearing to hear what he said,
commenced a different subject;
“I have been to see about the new furni
ture and tapestry to-day, James. The house
wants a thorough renovating. I shall have
the north room hung in blue, a new. axmin-
ster for the drawing room, and a new parlor
set of crimson plush.”
“I suppose it is necessary, Archie; still my
mother thought nothing was wanting.”
“Well, she was an old lady,” said Archie,
“and you know old people never want things
quite as nice as younger ones.”
’Well, do not go in too deep, for I have
■ avakla mnnov lata "
the terrible bills. But when the grandees
began to call on him and his bride, and the
governor of the State with others in high of
fice came to dine with him, he thrust all
thoughts of bills and other disagreeable facts
from bis mind, feeling glad the change bad
been made, for no surroundings, however
elegant, could compare with the loveliness of
his young wife; At least he concluded so by
the homage paid her by others than himself.
In these days he began to be a little forget
ful of Martha, and being very busy with his
own affairs, did not say anything to her
about moving, even when he went to see her,
which was not verv often. He was all the
time fearful John Rugby might turn up, de
manding more money from him or publish
ing wide the whole story he had been paid so
well to keep. Bnt up to the time of his start
ing for Washington he had heard or seen
nothing of him.
Mrs. Barton and Louise, with their ser
vants arrived about the middle of November
and Tom, the old Edgewood coachman, with
Mapes, the gardener, were to come in De
cember.
Welby had opposed though not forbidden
the change until the !ast, but Archie was de
termined to have her way, so the old-time
servants at the Palms were forced to leave;
the old housekeeper fluttering and blustering
with indignation till the last moment of her
stay.
“There’ll be no spies around to watch me
now,” said Archie to her mother, the morn
ing after the last one was gone.
“Unless it is Louise,” laughingly replied
the mother; “she is becoming very rigid in
her views.”
“Oh, the little goose! Is she really in
earnest, mamma, about looking up a class of
negroes and low white people to teach?”
“1 think she is. I heard her ask Judge Ed
monds yesterday if he knew where she could
succeed best in an enterprise ot that kind.
Of course he laughed at the idea of her teach
ing ;uch low trash, but afterwards said there
was a class at Liverton, a place about ten
miles from here, among whom the most fear
ful ignorance prevails, and he pi esumed any
one so inclined might And a Held for labor
there.”
“It will tie very humiliating to us if she
does go to Liverton or any otber place for
that purpose, and it is strange she wants to
do it when she could live so nicely here, with
nothing in the world to do. And then by
and by Bertie Fitznoodle is coming, and she
could have such a splendid flirtation with
him, and perhaps might get him for a hus
band.”
Archie, interposed her mother, “don’t you
suppose you would be jealous my dear, were
Louise to detract attention from you, you
know this Fitznoodle admires you greatly,
and you were never in the habit of giving
way to a rival”
* Oh, mamma, but you see I am married
now.'
“1 know, my child, but many a young
married lady Ukes to be admired by other
gentlemen than her husband.”
“Well, come to think I believe I do,” said
Archie laughing with all her might, “and
perhaps Louise would be in the way, so I
will let her go.”
Here the postman entered with a letter
which was from Maud. Archie broke the
seal and read.
Dear Sister: I am very happy and well,
and so is Will, neither of us having but ODe
trouble, viz, that of being separated a part
of each day while he is attending to his medi
cal studies. We are living in a lovely cottage
by ourselves, with only one servant, putting
out our laundrying. When Will’s mother
has done with it, we shall go to Riverside,
the most charming of all places on the Hud
son. Edgewood will hardly compare with it.
As Will is an only child, of course it will be
ours by inheritance. 1 hope Louise will pat
tern after her sisters and make an eligible
match, but I would not be surprised if she
should take up with some itinerant methodist
preacher, but I hope you will do a little man
aging for her, Archie, and not allow her to
throw herself away like that. Brother was
eaten bad 38-
cfflce. So you see you were not the means
of quite killing him. 1 think you did right
by not marrying him, for you never could
have kept up the least style, and that, of all
things, would have made yen miserable.
While I would not be quite as much affected
by it, I would not want to marry a young
man with no expectations. Tell mamma and
Louise when they get tired of living in Texas
to come and stay with me. Maud.
TO BE CONTINUED.
I
lost considerable money of late.
“How?"
“Ob,’ in an unfortunate speculation.”
“How long since?"
“Oh, two or three weeks since.”
“About the time were married, then.”
“Yes.”
“That is the reason, then, you appeared so
pre-occupied and different from what you
had before?”
“Yes, Archie.” he replied, looking very
solemn.
Archie then went and put her arms about
his neck and said: ‘Poor dear; then I excuse
you. I thought all the time it was because
you were regretting your fate as a married
man. But Til only get the things most need
ed,” she resumed.- “And won’t you please
wait a moment and tell me how much you
lost?" He had started to leave the room.
“A hundred thousand or more. Yes, get
what you need,” he replied, on his way out.
“But just come a moment and sit down
here, my dear,” she cried, handing him a
chair; “I’m about to write to mama asking
her and Louise to spend the winter with us,
and I want to have her bring Hempis, our
old cook, Ellen, the laundry girl and Bemis,
our old housekeeper. I do not believe I can
get along with the servants we have here.”
Welby bridled up at this request, looking
rather formidable to Archie, and replied:
“I cannot give my consent to that.”
“Ob, you must, dear; the housekeei
spoke disrespectfully to me yesterday, S
evidently thinks her judgment is far better
than mine, and none of the servants treat me
as I have been in the habit of being treated
by those we employed at home, and I don’t
believe I can live with them.”
“They have all lived in my employ a great
many yean,” he said. “My mother was al
ways suited with them, and it would be right
hard to send them away now.”
“But you must, dear: I would be so happy
to have good old Hempis and Bemis here,and
I am sure you, too, would like them much
better.”
“We’U, wait awhile and we will see about
it,” be replied, suddenly leaving the house.
“They shall come,” said Archie to herself.
«. T am bound to have my way in both mat-
-J. i of which I have justspoken-to him.”
/ra, to she sat down to her writing desk, in -
vitiw her mother and sisters to come In
wjJrJLv er bringing all the servants with
tkLn A. *>d then a note to Fitznoodle assur
ing her tha/' nothing could please her more
than thevtsL* 5 contemplated making her
to Hi“di!y ir t» o thenew carpets, hangings,
and a part of the fmmitore began to arrive at
the PJtas, and for two wetto toe house was
in a hubbub. Then *>"*«•*» and ,£ f S“^
everything looked 1 Welby, even, liked it
ELINOR;
OR,
Aunt Ruejs Legacy.
BY KBS. B. C. LOCKE.
CHAPTER HI.
Edward Cleveland the elder of the two
brothers had married early in life, a wealthy
1-idy in the Valley of Virginia, and having
no taste, although very talented, for a pro
fession, had settled down and spent a great
deal of time and money in improving and
beautifying his wife’s already beautiful home,
Earncliffe, a model of taste and elegance.
This beautiful place was the destination
of our travelers. They arrived at their jour
ney’s end and found the family on the portico
waiting to receive them. After a hurried
greeting Mr. Cleveland drew his little niece
forward, saying to his wife:
“There, dear, is my little mountain flower,
that I have transplanted, I hope to a more
congenial soil This Elinor is your>unt Mary,
and these your cousins, Grace and Howard,
and this our darling little Lily, toe baby,”
and he caught up a lovely child of three sum
mers, and after almost smothering her with
kisses threw her high up in the air, while she
clapped her hands lisping delighted:
“Do so adin poppy, do so adin.”
After a kind, welcome and affectionate
caress from her aunt and cousins, they all
passed into the dining room where tea was
waiting them; Elinor was introduced to the
other members of the familv, Miss Landon
the goveness and Mr. Talbot, a brother of
Mrs. Cleveland.
As soon as tea was over the children ran
off with her to make her acquainted with her
new home. First of all they took her to see
that important personage, black mammy.
“Here mammy is our new cousin, that we
told you papa had gone to bring to live with
us,” said Grace.
“Is it now? Well come here honey and
let me look at you: well you are a nice
litttle cretur, pretty black eyes, but your
skin’s tanned awful” for to mammy’s inex
perienced eyes, Elinor's brown skin, by con
trast with Grace’s exquisitely fair blonde
complexion, was tanned.
“ What’s your name? Elinora? and you bina
livin’way up to the mountain; and hadn’t
no niggers to wait on you, I be bound. Well
I never knowed your mother, but I does
know my miss is a gwine to be one to you if
she’s took you to fetch up and says she is. I
nussed her and I knows her principles.”
“Come on Elinor,” said Howard, “it will
be too late to see the ponies, Mammy will
talk to you all night about her Miss, if you
will stay and listen,” and catching her hand
with Grace on the other side they started to
meadow to see the ponies.
“Here they are. The little brown one is
Grace’s and this one is mine, but papa says I
am to give Mm to you and he will give me the
black colt. Graces’is named Jenny and mine
I call Starlight, because he is so pretty and
white.
“Now for the school room, and then just
mie turn in the swing, after which we must
go in,'as mammajaaid she knew you were
tired.^with travelling all day and must go to
bed,” and they entered the school-room, a
small neat white building a little apart from
the house.
“This is your seat next to mine, we fixed
it to-day; and here are some new books.
Howard and Frank Wheately sit over there
Frank lives two miles from here but rides
over every day.” Elinor’s aunt took her to
a nice airy chamber set apart for her own
use, thinking that as she had always been in
the habit of sleeping alone she would prefer
it now, and with a kind goodnight and moth
erly kiss left her. The high old clock in the
ball chimed the midnight hour before she
fell asleip. The events of the last day or
two had put her head in a whirl of excite
ment ; her grandfather had remembered her
then and left her the property which he
should have given her father; well she would
just think of it as his yet, for he must come
back; they did not know that be was dead
and she bad questioned her uncle closely,
and got from him his opinions that he was
living and would eventuaUy return, oh if
she could only think out some plan to let him
know he had a daughter so earnestly wishing
and looking for him.
Mr. Talbot, Mrs. Cleveland’s brother, was
a great source of pleasure to the children,
although a very eccentric poison. He as
well as his sister had inherited an ample for
tune upon the death of their father, but be
soon recklessly squandered his with a set of
dissipated companions. He then went to
South America where after a lapse of time
he accumulated another fortune, but having
bad a spell of illness which left him entirely
deaf, he determined to return to his native
land, his deafness, together with his experi
ence in early life, giving him the greatest
distrust of human nature; he regarded all
who appproached him with profession of
friendship as having designs upon his purse.
He returned to find the little sister he had
left, grown up and married and with a fami
ly growing up around her, and attached him
self to her family circle, where he spent his
time in petting the children and translating
a book from the Spanish which language he
was very fond of and spoke fluently. If the
children expressed a wisn for anything they
were sure to be told they did not need it, but
in a short time were as sure to receive it, and
if they went to thank uncle John for it, wet e
told he knew nothing of it, not him, he knew
too well they did not deserve it. But they
understood his put on gruffness, - and the
mischievous twinkle in his eye.
Miss Landow, the teacher was the daughter
of an old friend of Mrs. Cleveland, who
dying in poverty just as her daughter was
grown left her to her friend’s care, but Alice
would accept of the permanently offered
home upon no other condition than to take
charge of the education of the children, a
position for which she was well qualified.
She fouud Elinor an eager and earnest
scholar, who by her ready application and
great perseverance made such rapid progress
as to be classed with Grace before the end of
the year.
The cousins Grace and Elinor presented a
striking contrast in character and disposi
tion as in person. Grace was small and look
ed younger and more childish than Elinor,
though in reality's few months older. She
had abundant golden hair, dark violet eyes,
full of candor and trust and a fair almost
pale complexion, with a delicate rqpe tint on
the cheeks. Amiable and affectionate, will
ing to make any sacrifice of personal comfort
or pleasure to promote that of one she cared
for, she was a most loveable child: but
Elinor’s less betittlful but more magnetic
face oftener attracted and won beholders.
Howard’s pet name for his sister had al
ways been Fairy; Elinor he called Gip3y, but
she considered it only a name to be applied
to members of wandering bands of beggars,
and flushed with anger, and was only molli -
fled by Frank Wheatley’s persuasions, and
his relating a beautiful, romantic story of
“Old King Cole” and his followers and their
ejection from their own dominion.
By the time he had finished, the Bohemian
character and wandering life had acquired
so much interest that she submitted quite
gracefully to the name and Howard never
failed to bestow it in teasing moods. How
ard was lively, frank and kind-hearted, but
at times obstinate and a great tease; while
on the other hand, Frank always treated
them with the greatest deference, and was
ever ready to interfere in their behalf, espe
cially for Elinor, to whom he was greatly
attracted upon her first appearance among
them—an orphan ana lonely and strange. In
•anrr:.L.-■» tetlSVIts?
pi**.!.
seemed to Elinor as though she had realized
some bright dream of fairy land; for fancy,
in its wildest moods, had never pictured for
her a home like this—with almost, too, a
father’s and mother’s affection.
Her aunt was a woman of fine mind and
sterling qualities; amiable but firm, and be
ing a true Christian, was well fitted to train
children. The youngest child, Lilly, had
formed the greatest attachment for Elinor
upon her first introduction into the family,
and she returned it tenfold. She made a per
fect idol of the child; she was capable of the
deepest feeling, and she seemed te centre her
love upon Lilly. She was attached to every
member of the family, but she was sensitive
to ridicule and was afraid of being consid
ered too demonstrative. With Lillie she
was always safe, and hence devoted a great
part of her time to the child’s amusement,
and out of school hours you would nearly al
ways find them together.
Under such kindly and genial influences,
Elinor’s better nature was fast being devel
oped; she had never given away to her pas
sion but once since she had become an inmate
of her uncle’s home. Miss Loudon had
quested her to get a lesson over, the first and
only time she had considered her recitation
too imperfect to be passed over. But Elinor
flew into a passion and asserted angrily that
she did know her lesson. Her teacher quiet
ly asked her to resume her seat, but she dart
ed out and took refuge in her own room
where she spent the most of the afternoon in
passionate weeping—as much in self-reproach
as anything else. She did not make her an
pearance at tea, and Grace, who was greatly
grieved for her cousin, wished to go for her;
but Mrs. Cleveland, who had received an ac
count of the affair from Miss Loudon,
thought it beet to leave her alone. But Elinor
oould not rest until in the twilight she had
stolen down and made her peace with both
teacher and aunt.
Two years passed pleasantly and unevent
fully away. One night Elinor was awakened
by the restless tossing of little Lilly, who
very often forsook her crib to sleep with
Elinor, and becoming alarmed at the child’s
appearance, called her aunt, who, finding
Lilly really ill, summoned a physician. • He
pronounced it scarlet fever. Elinor was de
voted in her attentions to the sick child.—
Night and day she was by her side* bending
over the crib to catch some coherent word
or loving look. Her aunt could scarcely pre
vail upon her to leave long enough to take
necessary rest and refreshment. She took
the disease herself, but fortunately it went
lightly with her, and she was soon able to be
by Lilly’s side again, who constantly called
for her. The crisis finally came and Lilly
sank so rapidly that hope was ^abandoned.
Opening her eyes once more with the light
of reason Deeming in them, they rested an
instant on Elinor, and then closed forever, a
slight shiver shook the little frame,and there
was one human bud less on earth; one more
shining angel in Heaven,
Elinor did not give way to violent weeping
as did Grace, but sat long with the little hand
clasped in hers; she saw the little wax-like
figure clad in the snowy robes and laid in
the coffin, saw the. coffin borne out and laid
in its last resting-place and heard the clods
rattle upon it, and this was her first great
sorrow. It was the first time in her short life
she had met death face to face,and how awe
stricken she was at the reality! She turned
away to the now lonely home, where every
thing spoke of the loved and lost.
Much distressed at Elinor’s continued de
pression and sorrowful face, her uncle pro
posed to take her and Grace to visit their
relatives in Philahelphia, but Elinor's indig
nation knew no bonnds at the proposition.
“Did they think she would visit the relatives
who had scorned her mother?” and it took all
her aunt’s persuasive powers to talk her into
calmness, but even then she would not hear
of the visit for herself. But when Grace re
turned and told of all the sights and scenes,
the theatre and art galleries, she began to
think more favorably of it for some future
time.
Mrs. Horton, Elinor’s aunt, was a very
proud woman, possessed of some good quali
ties, and had a fine address and winning
manners. She had been deeply, and as she
believed, justly in ceased at her brother’s
marriage with a poor country curate’s daugh
ter, and thus clouding his brilliant future,
but conscience had often reproved her for her
unkindness in the year that followed, and
she would now gladly take his orphan daugh
ter te her childless heart and home. To make
amends and cultivate her acquaintance and
try to win her love, was the chief object of
the visit she contemplated making to Earns-
eliffe, in the summer. To do Mrs. Horton’s
family pride full justice, she never would
have thought of cultivating Elinor, if she had
been left to the obscurity and rusticity of
her mountain life, even at the dictates of
conscience, but as she would now have con
siderable property, and bad been found to be
a child of beauty and talent, and in a few
years would be. no small attraction to her
city home, she concluded to make the com
promise with pride. She did not think of
the ob-tacles she would have to encounter.or
that Elinor had equally as much pride in a
different way, as herself.
CHAPTER IV.
Mrs. Horton made the contemplated visit,
but not the expected impression upon Elinor,
who was polite but distant and reserved, and
would admit of no intimacy nor anything
like the motherly intercourse wnich existed
between herself and Aunt Cleveland, so Mrs.
Horton gave up her present plan of taking
her, but exacted a promise that much of her
time, as well as that of Grace ,-honld be spent
with her when their school days were ended.
Years went by—years of happy childhood,
uneventful and unimportant,except in bring
ing the cousins nearer the threshold of wo
manhood. Elinor and Grace were now six
teen and Howard nineteen. Howard and
Frank Wheatly had been for the last three
years going tp the academy in the couutry
town, and through a course of study prepar
atory to entering college, The girls still re
mained under Miss Loudon’s care, but it was
now deemed expedient by Mr. and Mrs.
Cleveland who thought they would require a
finish in music and other branches to send
them away to school for a year or two Miss
Loudon had obtained a situation as assistant
teacher in a seminary not far distant, and it
was decided that Grace and Elinor should
accompany her as scholars to the same insti
tution. They were delighted with the plan,
as they looked up to Miss Loudon as an elder
sister, and it would take away much of
dreary longing for home—the experience of
every schoolgirl— to have her with them.
It was a bright morning in September and
only a few hours travel by railroad, whici
they spent in dreams and fancies as they sped
along. It was not what might be termed a
fashionable boarding-school to which they
were going, but the principal of the school a
Baptist minister, had acquired a reputation
of many years standing, tor his sterling good
sense, thorough education and practical
science in imparting his knowledge to others
and was patronized accordingly by all de
nominations, without regard to sectarianism.
He was ordinary in appearance, and unpol
ished in manners, yet to gain his praise
was an incentive to many a girl to devote all
her energies to overcome a wearisome
task. The school was situated in the
suburbs of a large country town, which af
forded every facility for church-going, shop
ping and visiting in the limited manner that
was allowed in the school.
' The site of the building was at once beau
tiful and romantic. The house was large
with porches running the whole length above
and below. It was situated on a hill which
commanded a beautiful view of the town,
and was far enough away from any other
building, for the girls to enjoy a merry romp
as laugh with propriety, in the days of the
Revolution the spot had been a fort; intrench-
ments had been thrown up, and these huge
grass grown mounds, once bare banks of
earth, had echoed the grim music of com-
ron and musketry. The grounds were beau
tifully laid off; each high embankment being
crowned with a summer house, over which
climbed a profusion of vines and runniug
roses. Ornamental shade trees and sweet
flowers cast their shade and perfume in every
direction; flights of stone steps set iu the sides
of the hills led down into the lower grounds
wfeiet ware-intcaspsried-sith-Fajfed-ssadfciy-
flower beds and grass plats.
Our young friends’ first year of school life
ended and the second commenced, but Miss
Loudon did not return with them, as she mar
ried an assistant teacher during the summer
aud weat to make her home in the far West.
The new year of school life brought with it
new faces, a large additiou of new scholars,
two of whom we will introduce to our read
ers as they appear again iu the course of
events recorded in these pages The first was
a child of thirteen or fourteen but so small
and delicate looking as to easily pass for ten.
She was pale and fair, with a sweet interest
ing face, and wore deep mourning for her
mother who had been dead but a few weeks.
With the crowd of strange faces around her,
the bewildering hum of voices, the inquisitive
gaze, and eager questionings, with the memo
ry of her great loss still fresh in her mind,
come that sad lonely feeling of a first day at
school and when Elinor went up to her room
about dusk, she heard some one sobbing bit
terly as she passed along the hall She soft
ly opened the door and looked in, and there
sat the poor lonely child on her trunk thus
giving vent to her feelings.
Elinor took it all in at a glance. She knew
ho w to sympathyse with her, and was soon
seated by her side with her arms around her
neck trying to comfort her. With some
persusion she prevailed upon Mrs. Lewis,
wife of the principal to exchange her into
her room, and she never had cause to regret
the interest she took in little Eugenia Moss,
for she become much attached to her and ever
remained her most devoted friend.
“Another new scholar! Another new schol
ar,” said one of the girls bounding into the
school-room a few days after the arrival of
Eugenia, where some of the girls were idly
loitering, waiting for the welcome sound of
the dinner bell and out she rushed again af
ter delivering her news in this hasty manner,
to take her place with the more curious to
catch a glimpse of, and criticise the appear
ance of the new comer. At dinner they were
introduced as Mrs. Lawson and her daughter
Bailie, whom She accompanied, to see safely
installed at boarding school Mrs. Lawson
was a large florid person constantly talking
in a very loud tone, and using long words
in the wrong place, and dwelling upon the
qualifications of her, as she thought, accom
plished daughter. The daughter was a smal
ler edition of the mother, both were dressed
fine in the broadest acceplation of the term,
but in very bad taste, and trimmed off with
a profusion of ribbons, laces and jewelry.
Miss Bailie displayed a great many airs and
graces, and looked scornfully around upon
the school girls. Fortunately for their risibles
they saw nothing of Mrs. Lawson after the
dinner hour, but late the next morning Miss
Lawson made her appearance in the school
room behind a formidable pile of books, and
with her flounces rustling and trailing on the
floor.
“Come this way, Miss Lawson, if you
please, and take this seat, I wish to examine
your books and see if they are such as I use,
and to ask you a few questions that I may
know how to class you,” said Mr. Lewis.
“I am too.far advanced to be put in any of
these classes, I expect, and ma said I ain’t to
be turned back,” she replied with a toss of
her head and a contemptuous glance around
her.
“Ah, indeed,” and a curious smile played
round the corners ot Mr. Lewis’ firm, square
ly cut mouth, as he picked up the books and
lead off the titles, Ancient and Physical
Geography, Ancient History, Latin Gram
mar and others.
“I suppose you are well versed in modern
, history of the United States; and
• A suppressed titter now ran around tie
school room, and Miss Law son. for the first
time becoming conscious of the ludicrousness
of the scene in which she was chief actor, |
flushed up to the roots of her bright auburn |
hair. i
That will do for the present,” said Mr.
Farragat in Nobile Bay.
Happily for the fleet and for the coun
try, there was a man in command that
day equal to the emergency—a man
whose eagle eye grasped every detail of
the fight, while he possessed the skill to
Lewis, who with the greatest difficulty had direct and the nerve and ability to exe-
kept hisifacestra.ght during the examination, I . There was no time for doubt nr
her self sufficiency and extreme ignorance! , , ‘ no time lor doubt or
affording such a ridiculous contrast. | Had he hesitated, the fortune of
Schooldays finally drew to a close. It was ; the day must have been against ns. The
the last night, and the girls had all assem- i Admiral was standing in the futtock
bled in the music-room to sing their last shrouds, under tho main-top—a position
•>»-.«»;■“<*<••,*■»»
regular breakfast hour. It was a sad part- | take m the whole situation, and could
ing, although so much pleasure was autici-
paced when bom js were reached, with school
days over.
Eugenia was almost inconsolable that
Elinor was not to return again, but was
soothed by the promise obtained from her
father that her next vacation should lie spent
witn her. Grace and Elinor were almost the
last to leave. Mr. Cleveland, who was to at
tend the commencement and take them
home, had been delayed. What, thought
Elincr, could be more lovely than this, as
she visited each loved spot aud lingered
around each favorite haunt for the last time
and walked through the rooms lately echoing
with life and gladness, but now only rever-
bering the sound of her lonely footsteps. She
tried the piano, but the music seemed only
communicate with the pilot in the main
top, and with the Fleet-Captain and exe
cutive officer on the deck beneath. For
several years there has been a discussion
in the papers and magazines of the coun
ty as to the Admiral’s being “ lashed to
the rigging.” The writer has no light
to throw on the subject. Fairagut was
standing in the shrouds, as described,
when the writer went on deck, and he
remained there until the Hartford had
passed beyond the range of the fort; but
there were not more than two or three
persons on board wli ’J knew anything
about his being fastened in place. The
the ghost of that of other days, and she felt - first heard of it in the fleet was some
relieved when Grace came dancing in with three or four weeks after the ftelit when
the news of her father’s arrival. the New York naners wore nuLi-mul
Once in after years Elinor stood on that I v ® l pap T ■ w ,
-1 the etherwi Some v anous rumors have been circulated as
spot—but where were all the others? Some
few cf them, happy wives and mothers; some
occupants of the lonely churchyard, done
with life’s joys and cares; one, the most beau
tiful aud gifted of all that happy throi g,
wearin g out her life iu a village school to
contribute to the support of a worthless hus
band and worse than fatherless children; an
other, ever gentle and affectionate, but timid
and shy, the inmate of an insane asylum,
weaving her wild fancies into song, imagin
ing herself still a happy school-girl; and jet
one otber. Beauty to her had beeuafital
gift. The finger of scorn and contempt were
pointed at her, an l should the frieuds of oth
er days be met with only a pitying glance
could be bestowed, as with hurried step and
averted look, they pass her by.
(TO BE CONTINUED.
The Father Goes to Bed.
Who would believe that there was one
single tribe, however silly in other re
spects, which should carry its folly so
far as to demand that on the birth of a
child the father should take to his bed,
while the mother attended to all the
duties of the household. Yet we are
told that there are few customs more
widely spread than this, attested by his
torical evidence during nearly 2,000
years. Marco Polo found it existing
among the Chinese in the thirteenth
century, and the same custom was still
in practice a few years ago among the
modem Basques This absurd custom
is also described by Du Tertre as in use
among the Caribs in the West Indies.
When a child is bom the mother goes
presently to her work, but the father
takes to his hammock, and there he is
visited as though he were sick, and un
dergoes a course of dieting which would
cure of the gout the most replete of Al
dermen. How any one can fast so long
and not die is perfectly wonderful. For
six months he eats neither birds nor fish
lest the child should participate in tha
natural faults of the animals on which
the father had fed. For instance, if the
parent were to have an Aldermanic taste
for turtle, the child would be deaf and
•fatru-ncr brains. ■ The only -explanation
of this mystery is to be found in the
pages of Punch, where a great fat nurse
is depicted going up stairs with the baby
in her arms, the real master of the
house, while the nominal owner is seen
meekly getting himself out of the way.
“ Without exaggerating the treatment
which a husband receives among our
selves,” says Mr. Max Muller, “atthese
interesting periods, not only from moth
ers-in-law, sisters-in-law and other fe
male relatives, but from nurses—in fact,
from every st xvant in the house—it can
not be denied that, while his wife is suf
fering, his immunity from pain is gener
ally remarked upon with jealous anger,
and if anything goes wrong for which it
is possible to blame him, he is sure to
hear of it. If his boots are creaking, if
his dog is barking, if the straw has not
been properly laid down, does he not
catch it?”—The Argosy.
Animal Seasoning.
A correspondent of Nature, writing
from Cambridge, Mass., says: A lady, a
friend of mine, was at one time a matron
of a hospital for poor women and chil
dren, which was maintained by sub
scription. One of the inmates was a
blind girl who was there not as a pa
tient, bnt temporarily till a home conld
be found for her. She had learned to
feed herself, and at meal times a tray
containing her dinner was placed on her
knees as she sat in a comfortable chair
for her special convenience in feeding
herself. One day while she was eating,
the pet cat of the establishment placed
herself before the girl and iooked long
and earnestly at her, so earnestly that
the matron, fearing that the animal med
itated some mischief to the girl, took
her out of the room. Again the next
day, at the same hour, the cat entered
the room, but tbi.. time walked quietly
to the girl’s side, reared herself on her
hind legs, and, noiselessly, stealthily
reached out her paw to the plate, se
lected and seized a morsel that pleased
her, and, silently as she came, departed
to enjoy her stolen meal The girl nev
er noticed her loss, and, when told of it
by her companions, laughed very heart
ily. It is evident that the cat, from ob
servation, had entirely satisfied herself
circulated as
to the fact, one of which was that tho
Admiral took a rope’s-end with him when
he went aloft, and secured it so as to
prevent his falling on deck in case of ac
cident. This is the story' which was cur
rent on shipboard at that time and was
generally believed. Since the incident has
been under discussion in the papers the
“ real facts ” in the case have been made
known, and will stand in history on the
imquestioned authority of Fleet-Captain
Drayton and of Flag-Lieutenant J. Crit
tenden Watson, of the Admiral’s staff.
This is to the effect that Capt. Dray ton, see
ing the Admiral in the rigging, and fear
ing he might be killed by a fall on deck
in case he were wounded, ordered an old
Quartermaster to take a rope’s end and
secure it around him, so that he would
be prevented from falling. Tho writer
is disposed to believe that the Admiral
was so absorbed in watching the fight
that he did not know at the moment the
precautions takeu for his safety by his
Fleet-Captain. But whatever doubt may
attach to this particular incident — of
which so much has since been made,
while so little was thought of it at the
time — there is no chance for doubt as
to the Admiral’s action. Finding that
the Brooklyn did not start ahead, he
hurriedly inquired of Pilot Freeman, in
the main-top, if there was depth enough
for the Hartford to pass to the left of
the vessels in front. Receiving an af
firmative reply, he said, “ I will take tho
lead,” and immediately ordered the ship
“ahead fast.”
On board a war steamer the engines
are directed by the tap of a bell, the
wires connected with which lead to the
quarter-deck. One stroke of the bell
means “ go ahead two, “ stop three,
“ backand four, “ go ahead as fast as
possible.” Leaning down through the
shrouds to the officer on deck at the bell-
pull, the Admiral shouted, “Four bells,
eight bells, sixteen bells ! Give her
all the steam you've got.” The order
was instantly MBfiHBTflted, and the old
ship seemed imbued with the Admiral’s
spirit, and, running past the Brooklyn
aud the monitors, regardless of fort,
ram, gunboats and the unseen foe be
neath, dashed ahead, all alone, save for
her gallant consort, the Metacomet.—
From an “ August Morning with Far-
ragui," by E. C. Kinney, in Scribner's
Magazine.
The Cost of Fashion.
Among fashionable people the dress
ing during the last yvinter was enor
mously expensive. The season was un
usually gay; that is, there were evening
entertainments on a grand scale in con
stant succession ; and the demand for
wardrobes of various and original de
signs was great beyond precedent. The
costumes, indeed, were too expensive,
and the whole business of society has
been pushed to such an extreme of
costly magnificence that there must be
a reaction. Already the current has be
gun to set toward simplicity. The rage
for house decoration, for bric-a-brac and
for elegant furniture has gone so far
that people are getting tired of it, and
now we find them stripping their draw
ing-rooms |of superfluous articles once
highly prized, lowering the tones of
their colors and relieving them of cum
bersome hangings. There is always the
danger that yon may make the frame of
your picture so gorgeous that it will dis
tract attention from the painting itself.
You can so crowd your rooms with
strong and brilliant colors that, dress
them ever so beautifully, your guests
will seem mean by comparison.
Is 1872 English manufacturers ex
ported to the United States carpets to
’.he value of £1,619,511. In 1879 the
•rade had fallen to £565.401.
Home-Made Candy.
All children are fond of candy, and if
E ure, a moderate amount is not injurious.
a these days of adulteration, that made
at home is safest to give them. It ic a
simple matter to make chocolate cara
mels ; all that is needed is one cap of
sweet milk, one cup of molasses, half a
cup of sugar, half a cup of grated choco-
^arrC’^rTV^norserrncr b7a * piece of butter the size of a wal-
„„ JFLamJia decided she’conld I™*! stir constantly and let it boil until
it is thick, then turn it ont on to but-
process of reasoning, decided she could
steal a good dinner by this practical use
of her knowledge.
geography
English Grammar? the last of which is a
speciality in this school *81 think no young
lady can make rapid progress until thorough
ly instructed in that branch.”
“Oh, I left off studying them things some
time ago.” •
“Will yon please tell me the names of the
capital and principal rivers In Virginia?”
“I ain’t been in Virginia long, and have’nt
found ont yet,” she replied looking around
with the utmost self complacency.
“Will you oblige me by repeating the first
four roles in Murray’s grammar i”
“I believe I’ve forgot’em, the principal ot
the college I went to in Ohio, said I need’nt
mind to learn English grammar if I was go
ing to study Latin,”
English Plum Pudding.—One pound
of raisins, after they are stoned, one
pound of corrants, one pound of suet
finely chopped, one pound of sugar, one
pound of floor, one pint of sweet milk,
eight eggs, one-half ounce of cloves, one-
half ounce of cinnamon, two nutmegs, a
lemon and orange peel grated, a little
mace; place in a mold or pudding-bag
and bon four or five honrs; when done
stick top and sides with blanched almonds
and cute of citron: cover with brandy
and send to the table lighted; eat with a
liquid sauce seasoned with brandy.
Gambetta is following in the track of
R eozl and may finally share as dark a doom.
A Republican in politics, he is more than an
aristocrat in tastes. Luxury girdles him
about, and bis stomach is getting the better
of his brains. He bathes in a solid silver tub,
and has at heart no sympathy with the poor.
tered plates; when it begins to stiffen,
mark it in squares, so that it will break
readily when cold. Cocoanut caramels
are made of two cups of grated cocoanut,
one cup of sugar, two table-spoonfuls at
flour, the whites of three eggs beaten
stiff; bake on a buttered paper in
quick oven. Nice white candy is easily
made. Take one quart «of granulated
sugar, one pint of water; two table
spoonfuls of vinegar; boil just as you
do molasses candy, but do not stir it;
you can tell when it is done by trying it
in cold water. Pull it as if it were mo
lasses candy; have a dish near by with
some vanilla in it, and work in enough
to flavor it as you pull; put it in a c<3d
room, and the next day you will have
delicious candv.
Jur’ge Tourgee and Steele Mackye’s drama
tization of “A Fool’s Errand” is a failure.
Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com
pound doubtless ranks first as a curative
agent in all diseases of toe procreative sys
tem, degenerate ■ i < i q, j ,,,,. ,
of the bladder, urinary calculi
Send to Mrs. Lydia E. Pinkbam aS
era Avenue, Lynn, Mass., for painphleta.