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THE SUNNY SOUTH 2 A BROKEN LINK; —CB.— The Strange Man of reg-tennin. Car- BY EMMA KIRKLAND, Author of “Strathmore Diamonds” and Fair Eurasian.” CHAPTER XXIX. “It willna be leilfu to tell ye.” “Recause, my bonny girl, the young doctor and your friend willna bae ye scarlt wi tba tale, Ye maun na tell It ta tha gude, true wife?” “To Maud?” “Aye I sbe Is mair leilfu tban tbe maist o’ them. Mony an ane wud bae been sprightln roun’ for anltber mon.” Louise smiled and laid her bead on bis knee. Sbe bad been coaxing bim to tell ber all the de tails of her brother’s misfortune. “You do not understand me,” she bad said, “if you suppose I shrink from anything be suf fered. I wish to know it ail, to feel It as near as 1 can. I wish 1 could have borne it with him or suffered in bis stead.” He could not deny ber any request. “How did you rescue him?” sbe asked in bard, dry voice when he bad finished tbe narra tion of tbe cruel truths. “Well, wben tbae tide ran low and thao storm was gone. I climbed doun tbae cliffs by tbae Juttln’ craigs and crept into tbae cave. There I found bim hanging by bis claims and tba chain ta tba rocks Inside. There were splinters and Juttln’ spars, and be bad caught on them. I gae’d ta bim quick, for be hanged too limp for deatb. I pu’o bim doun and brak tha chain i’ tha link that bad held bim aboun destruction He bad bis watcb fast because o’ tbae lonely calntry through wbicbwe maun pass; sae, it belli holden at baitb ends, tbe strang chain cauld help ta bo'd him aboun tba gapin destruc tlon. 1 gae’d back ta tba gude mon’s bouse. 1 gat him ta help me wi tbae body in a boat. We took it roun’ tbae coast ta bis hame, wbere it were nursed ta life. 1 didna see tba latrd ony malr until i year bad passed. I dinna ken bow be left that part o’ tba country. I seed bim ganging fast frae tba scene o’ tha murder, an when 1 next laid my batin’ e’en on his face 1 tauld bim boldly o’ tba deed. Then be tauld me ta be quiet; tbat Bruce bad thrawn Will Ar rington over tbae Nash Cliffs, an’ bis banes were ritber rot tin’ in a hollow or bleecbln’ 1’ tbe sea; sae we maun be quiet, ye see.” “You took bim to the castle when be got bet ter?” “Yes. I thought I bad better bide bim. He was served like a lord If leilfu hearts count in service. We waited for tbe trial and kept bim as well as we could. When thae cauld winds cam bowlin’ roun’ tba tower we wa’ sair trou bled, but we found tbat we cauld inak a fire on tba broad stane at tbe foot o’ tba stair. It made bim wav’r ta come into tba infernal dark an’ gloom o’ tba cave under tba castle. Tba red names o’ tba fire made It look uncanny. He wa’ fearfu’ that be bae gae’d doun to bell thrae tba blawhole; sae we maun tak him back ta tba sma’ room an’ let 1’ tba light. Tha cauld cam in wl’ It. Wbat maun we do? We wad try beat- lng stanes. Bruce piled tbem i’ tba fire, gat them red bot and take tbem ta tffa little room. We shut up tba window an’ tba sma, close space wa’ soon warm as simmer.” “How did you get tbe material up there to make tbe fire? Carry it round that dreadful cliff and through tbe dark passage?” “Na, na; we carried it up in a basket at the winaow. Bruce, mi strang lad, drew it up band o’er hand. We tak up otber things in tba same way 1’ tba night wben na one could see. He wa’ sae gratefu’ for tba simmer warmtb,” smiling at the remembrance. The old man was at tbe castle waiting for Mary to come. Louise spent nearly all ber time with him. Sbe loved to be witb bim, and her fresh companionship was like a renewal of life to bim. Her gratitude towards bim knew no limit, and out of it had grown a love tbat fell up on tbe evening of bis life as falls refreshing dews. Maud spent much of ber time witb bim, and rewarded bis leal conduct to tbe fullest ex tent of ber powers. He was tbe beloved and honored guest wbere he bad once served. To the formei lady of the castle be was a perpetual source of annoyance. Sbe could not see bim, bear bim speak or think of bim without an in ward shrinking. He kept her thinking of ber husband’s treachery, and tbe contrast of bis de votion revealed it in its worst ligbt. Sbe re vered tbe old man, even loved bim for wbat be bad done, but sbe could not be natural In bis sigbt or bearing. Sbe could not refrain from contrasting their positions at the castle. He, beloved, honored, revered; sbe, dependent, ac cepted, pitied. Sbe was not ungrateful for tbe favors so delicately lavished upon ber, but her heart was often bitter, sore from its extreme sensitiveness. Sbe felt more at ease witb Maud tban witb Louise. Maud soon discovered tbis, and tbe two became attached to each otber from association and a consequent unfolding of char acter. They spent many pleasant evenings to gether while Louise sat at tbe feet of Donald McDonald learning lore of various kinds. An Inherent vein of superstition added a ebarm to bis converse. Many a legend wholly untrue, and many others entangled witb truth, and many scenes of his varied life were repeated to ber charmed ear. He found that she loved the sweet, broken dialect of tbe Highlands, and he never used any other in addressing ber. His memory was a storehouse of facts, in which she felt a deep interest. He bad known, intimately, every member of her grandfather’s large family, bad watched ber mother at play, had loved ber wben sbe was a “wee, sma’ lassie.” He had seen the growing love of ber parents, en couraged it, nurtured it. He could show ber their haunts wben children and wben lovers. He became so connected with ber memory of tbem that it seemed be ought to be ber grandparent and not tbe man wbo came back to the castle to die. Sbe had often wished that be would speak more freely of Mary, and felt a desire many times to request him to speak of ber; delicacy, that subtle ebarm of ber char acter, forbade any direct questioning. She told him all she knew of tbe lovely woman, and hoped that be would respond by explaining ber past more fully, but be did not. Sbe learned tbat Mary was tbe daughter of bis only child, a beautiful woman, who had married a minister of culture; tbat the mother died in her youth, leaving two sons and a babe—tbis Mary—who was given to bim. The sons followed tbeir father’s calling, and were away at tbe Master’s service wben their sister was enticed from ber home. Mr. Pugh, her father, did not long sur vive ber loss, and her grandmother, too, seemed to care less for life after tbe darling sbe had so tenderly reared stole from her sheltering arms. A few months after the flight sbe ceased troub ling about things of this Hie. Tbe house on tbe bills was closed, and tbe old man became a rest less wanderer, with no aim in life, until a son of Richard came over tbe seas to claim bis birtb- right. Knowing the man in the castle, be at tached himself to tbe young belr with a view to bis protection. He went with bim to tbe castle, bumbling himself to serve tbat be migbt save. He followed on tbe protracted bunting tour, scenting mischief as keenly as tbe bounds scented game. A sudden illness gave tbe pre tender bis opportunity. He rose from bis bed and followed tbe two, when he was really una ble to do so. This much she could learn, but nothing relative to tbe tragedy, or, rather, tbe supposed tragedy on tbe cliff. Sbe thought tbe old man’s reticence rather singular and spoke of it In tbe presence of tbe former lady of tbe castle one evening, wben the old man had Bruce to spend the night with him. Lady Alice was undoubtedly hurt by her reference to the mat ter. “Perhaps,” said she, with a barely discernible sarcasm, “he thinks it may distress you to have bim speak at length of a disgraceful affair in which Mr. Arrington was chief actor. You know Mr. Bruce McDonald knocked bim off tbe cliffs and gave bim tbat scar on bis cheek.” "Bravo! for Bruce,” said Louise, “but I knew tbat much before, except about tbe scar. Can you not tell me sometblng more about it? I have been wishing so much to know.” Louise knew that Lady Alice disliked ber, and she was determined to overcome tbis undeserv ed disfavor. She fully appreciated the lady’s trying position in tbe bouse, and was deter mined not to add to It bv any show of resent ment wben she revealed her dislike. She could see no cause for this feeling of her cousin, un less It existed in the fact that she, Louise, was tbe prime mover in the string of events which led to the exposure of the pretender. “Brace was a lover of Mary,” was tbe reply to her question. “Am I thought so, but he must have been quite young? fie is hardly tweuty-five, is be?” “I have never felt interested in him to such an extent as to feel curious about his age, but I believe he is florid, and such men bear their age well. He is certainly very fine-looking.” “And of good family,” added the girl, deter mined to preserve her pleasant humor. "Goodenougb,” said the lady, “but, like many others, the gliding of aristocracy is wearing off." “Exposing a very fine metal In this case of the McDonalds?’ replied the leal girl, with more tartness tban she wished to use. Maud changed the subject and it was not soon renewed between them. Louise soon tired of tbe new one and went to ber rooms to read Sbe was not there long until Clefa came in, looking unusually pretty. “Dear met” exclaimed Louise, “you are al most as pretty as Mary.” “You did not know Mary wben sbe was young and fresh,” replied the girl, with a sigh. “Did you?” 6 “Yes, but I was a little girl. I tnougbt her prettier than anything, and so thought all tbe men. Sbe was a good girl until the bad men came and ” “And what, Clefa? You are learning to talk real well.” “Bruce says it is because I talk so much witb you. My lady never talked much, or I think I could bave learned sooner.” “B it Mary,” said Louise. “Yon are like all tbe rest; you avoid telling me anything about her.” “Oh! no,” said tbe girl. “I was not avoid; my mind slipped off to sometblng else. There were many tales going, and I’m glad she is coming back to clear some of tbem up. Folks will learn tbat sbe is an bonest wife, at least. Who avoids, who is not willing to tell youF’ “Wby, Mr. McDonald and your lady ” “Ob! there is a reason for that. Tbe laird liked ber too well. My lady was fond of her, and sbe used to come to tbe castle often. After tbe two young gentlemen, Mr. Arrington and Mr. Spencer, came to tbe castle, she was seen to come over tbe bills nearly every day. People knew before they came tbat tbe lord liked her too well. He would happen on tbe road as sbe came along, and be was seen talking to ber wben be migbt have been witb bis lady. Of course there was no open talk, for be was tbe lord, but there was a great deal of whispering. Tbe McDonalds were proud in a way tbat some folks don’t like, and sucb folks took spite on them to sav ugly things, though Mary and ber motber before her were very kind to tbem. Borne called ber a fool, and hated tbe lord for fooling ber, as they believed. Some thought and said quite bold, that be got tbe young men to take ber away. Botb of tbem were in love witb ber. Mr. Spencer first, and then the otber one. Sie seemed to like Mr. Arrington tbe best. Bruce quarrelled witb tbem all. and told tbe lord he’d nave bis life if be did Mary any harm. She was stopped from going to the cas tle, and Mr. McDonald threw up bis place. Tbe lord Just laughed at tbem, and met Mary oftener than sbe liked.” “How do you know?” “Because sbe took me witb her. I was a do- notbing, running wild over tbe bills, and I liked to go witb her. Sbe would often go down to tbe shore under tbe cliffs wben tbe tide was low. I think sbe went to meet Mr. Arrington, and the lord would walk witb ber sometimes. Now and then Mr. Spencer would bappen along, and so it went on and spread from the fisbers to tbe fish ers’ wives and all over tbe country. People did not know what to think. Many of the women tried to pick it out of me but I could not tell them anything except tbat sbe did not want tbe lord’s company. It went on until sbe was not at home one evening wben dark came. Bruce came bere to look for ber. Tbe lord told him to ;o to tbe Nash Cliffs and be would maybe find ler. He meant to do misebief when be told bim. Mr. Arrington had not been gone from tbe cas tle a balf hour. Bruce followed bim to tbe cliffs. He watched bim go to the highest broken point tbat stands out in the water and look over. Tbere is a nice little place just below to fasten a boat—a smooth little piece of water in tbe curve of the rocks. Bruce thought tbere was one tbere waiting to take Mary away, and be was right. He ran up on tbe cliff—tbe flat top of the blgh part, and grappled with Mr. Arring ton. He tbrew bim over tbe cliff, beard him cry out very loud and thought be bad killed him. Of course he ran off when be heard tbe cry. He did not want Mary to know wbo had killed him. Sbe was below witb Mr. Spencer and some boat men, two men who did not like tbe McDonald’s. They came up and unfastened bim wbere be bad caught on tbe crags. He was badly bruised and senseless, but not killed.” “How did you learn tbat part of it?” “From Mr. Arrington bimself. He told Bruce all about it in Carmarthen. He is sorry, and says he tbinks bis wife was sbown up to bim as false by Mr. Spencer, wbo wanted her for him self. It seems he raised a suspicion in the bus- band’s mind about tbe wicked lord. Have you ever seen ” “Tbe child? Yes, ob, yes. Sbe was not like Mr. Arrington at first. Sbe was just a little soft bundle of baby beauty witb blue eyes. Her eyes bave changed to a black gray, I think, and ber features bave assumed tbe snape of bis. Sbe could hardly be more like him.” “I am glad of it and I do bope they will be ‘^fifdo I,” said Louise, very earnestly. “Do S ou suppose, Clefa, tbat tbe lord, as you will call im, followed Bruce and saw bim throw Arring ton over the cliff?” “Yes, be must bave done so, or be would not have known about it. No doubt be ran away, too, for fear they migbt see bim and say be did it. He was a great coward and acted two-faced with the young gentlemen, I know from wbat I saw, though I was only a little girl. It was a terrible thing for Bruce to do, but ” “We cannot blame bim. Mary was bis cous in, and it was noble for bim to defend ber honor thus. He would not wilfully barm any one. He was provoked, and we read in tbe Scriptures that God can be provoked out of all patience.” “So kin de menfolks wben putty gals runs off to talk wid each ndder. Somebody says to me right easy: ‘Kin yer tell Miss Clefa I’d like ter see ’er a little while?’ ” Mammy set her huge arms akimbo and sur veyed the biusbing girl witb Immense satisfac tion. Wait tf minute, Clefa,” said Louise. “Run along mammy, and tell him sbe is coming. Now let me make you just a little bit prettier before mammy gets back to tease.” Seme rich lace, fresn ribbons, and a jeweled comb made a pleasing ebange in tbe girl’s sim ile toilet. “I bad these brought from Swansea or you,” said Louise, fastening a pair of costly bracelets on tbe round white arms. “Mr. Fried- enthal selected tbem. No thanks, dear, unless you will ask Bruce to be our steward. We need some one wbom we can trust entirely. Maud is very desirous of having him manage for ber, but sbe hesitates about making the request, because of a delicate consideration for Mrs. Carne’s feel ings.” “I understand,” said tbe delighted girl, "but I do not think my lady has any right to be so sensitive when nobody blames ber and every body is so kind. Of course the place will suit Bruce better tban any otber.” [to bk conthtukd.] PICCIOLA; —OR,— The Power of Conscience. BY MRS. JEANIE DAGG MALLARY. I will be measured for a conscience after the newest fashion, one that trill stretch handsome Ip as occasion may require.—Schiller. For so vital a necessity to all living men is Truth, that the vilest traitor feels amazed, when treason recoils on himself.—Eulwer. [Copyrighted by tbe author.] “Ob! Old-Fashioned Folks Disappearing Tbe longer I live, and tbe more I see of men and women, the stronger is my feeling to ex claim: “Wbat sbams we both bave come to be I” I’ve grown to be an old woman, and I don’t claim that I was ever bandsome or graceful, or angelic, but the fact remains tbat I’ve been mar ried, and you must take it for granted tbat my John loved me. I look back to my courting days and am amazed at tbe change which has come over tbe world. My John saw me in a plain cal ico dress, without false teetb, false hair or pad ding. He was an bonest, sun-browned lad, wbo parted bis hair on tbe side, wore boots large enough for his feet, and had no money to spend at dancing school. I had not learned bow to lace my waist until my heels were lifted off the floor, and as for paints and powders they were unknown. My John never asked me if I could bake, wash, iron, sew and be a belpmeet to him. He knew I could. He bad eaten of my bread and pies, and bad found me at tbe wash-tub. I never had a fear tbat be would be out of work balf tbe year and be compelled to live on bis father-in-law. “Playing a father-in-law” was not known in these days. If be bad no clean- starcbed cuffs, neither did he smoke. If be bad no stand-up collars, neither did he know the in terior of saloons. If be sported no cane, neither did be know of poker, faro and old sledge. If be bad no Alaska diamond to act as a headlight on bis sbirt-front, neither bad be tailors’ bills to worry over. There was nothing said about a pony-phaeton, piano, hired girl, bridal tour and tbe like wben we were married. John bad $200 saved up. and had bedding and a set of ola-tasbioned dishes, and we went to keeping bouse in a log-cabin witb bare floors and bad no envy of Jobn Jacob Astor. There was a funeral now and then in those olden days, but never a divorce. Women fell sick, but they never eloped. Men were lost in tne wilderness, but men never left wife and chil dren to run away witb a painted face and a treacherous beart. Neighbors were not ene mies—social gatherings were not slandering so cieties—worth was not boiled down into a silk dress or a swallow-tailed coat. Jobn brought up bis boys to believe tbat no man need be ashamed of bonest toll. I brought up my girls to believe tbat it was a wife’s duty to know bow to manage a bouse from cellar to garret. Alas! They nave come to be ashamed of it! Honest toil is no longer the thing for men, and the woman wbo admits tbat she knows how to dye, quilt, patch, bake and iron is lost to society. Their children call me grandma when nobody is^about. Wben they bave com pany I am supposed to be out of tbe way up stairs. Grandpas and grandmas are no longer fashionable. They are too blunt and outspoken. They can’t make out bow a wife who’s busband earns $1 20C a year can put $800 of it on her back. They can’t see wby boys and girls of 15 should be engaged; wby girls should spend all their time at tbe piano and on tbe streets and none in tbe kltcbeu; wby the parlor carpet should be of velvet while tbe kitchen is in debt bead over heels; wby receptions sbould be given one week and tbe sheriff locked out tbe next; wby silks and satins and new bonnets can be pitted against womanly sense and wifely duty and win every time.—Aunt Sally, in De troit Free Press. CHAPTER XXII. Poor little Marab t How still she lay, moaning all day longl For long months kind attentions and skill were lavished upon ber without effect; but at length a faint smile and a low, coaxing note were hailed with gladness. Her little bead rest ed upon a pillow, for ber spine could not support its weight, slight as it was. Dr. DuVall bad feared idiocy, but tbere was tbe sparkle of in telligence in the bright, black eye, and every sense was periect, tnough tbe little frail form had always to be borne on pillows or drawn in a carriage made lor easy exercise. Ola’s anxious parents often remonstrated with her for her unttnng care, wblcb was showing it self in blanched cbeeks; but witb a sweet smile sbe clasped the afflicted babe tlgnter to ber bo som, feeling tbat a sacred trust had been com mitted to ber. Poor little Marah! Witb ber leeble, piteous moans Ola bad learned a better answer to tbe questiou she bad sooften asked, “Wbat is life?” Often would sbe wbisper, “Dream-like as is our life, there is in it one reality—our duty.” Happiness conferred is bappiness coined.” Tbus in tbe calm bappiness of doing good sbe lived, and beneath ber fostering care the little Marab thrived. Months bad passed, and now tbe lender bud began to sbow its streaks of in tellect between tbe green sepals of tbe bursting calyx. The first lisping word tbe baby lips bad learued to frame was “Ola.” The medical eye of Dr. DuVall discovered a happy change in the afflicted child wbich gave him new bope; ahd as tbe little creature could now sit halt reclined in tbe nurse’s arms, be de termined to carry ber to a Northern city to a celebrated physician, a personal friend, to gain tbe benefit ot bis opinion and counsel. Mrs. DuVall Insisted tbat Oia, too, needed the ebange; so it was agreed that she sbould go, and tue party started. Tbe city was reached and the physic.an found. He was an elderly, fatherly man, and bis rooms were Sited up witn great elegance. Each day tbe little sufferer was borne to tbe room, and so gentle was tbe kind physician tbat scarcely a moan was ever beard to escape its smiling lips. If ever a pain was felt, its tiny arms were in stantly stretched out to Oia Imploringly; and as sbe caught it to ber bosom it would stroke her cbeek with its diaphanous fingers and smile. Still, though tbey almost lived ih tbe pleasant room, tbere was no perceptible chaDge, and often did tbe kind hearted pbysician shake his bead over tbe well formed but weak limbs. One morning, after a long examination and thoughtful silence, be turned to Dr. DuVall say ing: “Tbere is a pbysician bere, a young practi tioner, wbo has performed some almost marvel lous cures of cases parallel to tbis. He is a most excellent man, a friend of mine, and witb your permission 1 would like to call him in.” “Uertainly, Doctor, do as you wish. Spare no pains or expense to relieve uur pet.” A note was dispatched. Marab, worn out with the examination, lay asleep upon tbe sofa. Tbe two physicians sat apart and were soon engross ed in conversation. Ola, not feeling much inte rest in medical terms, walked to an open window in tbe back parlor, and, throwing berself into a large arm ebair, was lost in an attractive book. She was always beautiful, but now sbe seemed to ber doting father far more lovely tban ever before. Her clear, transparent complexion and peachy bloom were enbanced in beauty by ber dress of rich, sky-blue silk finished at tbe neck by a costly point lace collar clasped by a pearl broach and pendant. From ber small, sbell- snaped ears swung similar ornaments, and ber rounded arm was encircled by a bracelet of tbe same pale gems. Her glossy, brown hair, wav ing over ber fine forehead, was thrown back, and a few persistent curls stole down ber neck. From tbe conservatory sbe bad plucked a lovely white spray of fuschia, and, twined witb fra grant geranium leaves, it now drooped from ber bair upon ber shoulder. The entrance of the new pbysician in the front parlor she bad beard, but sbe did not lift her •pea from the.book of poems before ber. C venation was carried on by the three meb suppressed tones, lest tbey migbt disturb tbe exhausted babe. Tbe eye of the new pbysician fell upon Uia, and now no power of earth seemed able to withdraw it Botb physicians attributed the singular fascination to admiration, and nei ther felt surprised. At length, in a husky voice, he asked: “Wbo is she?” “My daughter, sir,” was proudly replied. “Miss Annie Ola DuVall,” answered tbe old physician. “Annie Ola, did you say?” asked tbe young man, emphasizing tbe last name. Tbe young man turned suddenly to a side win dow, and soon the two old college chums were again lost in by-gone days. Finding tbat his “Husb! bush!” sbe almost gasped, who are you thar you torment me so?” “Look, Ola. Your first glance told you. Look again.” But sbe shrank from him, and ber bead sank still lower as sbe cried: “No, no! He is dead! Prince told me so; be is dead, cold and dead.” “Ah! so be intended, and so be thought, but be failed, signally failed. Tbanks ro tbe tender hearted Irishman, Admetus still lives: It is bard tor you to realize it I know, but listen, you shall bear it all: “My comrade begged for my life tbat night, but the Prince was frantic and declared ,tbai death alone could blot out my deep guilt—could alone atone for my base treachery. My doom was sealed. I was delivered Into tbe bands of four men to be dispatebed. I will not distress you with tbe terrors of tbat night. Acheron was reached 1 and Charon’s boat waited for me. I was pushed into a boat, and rowed far down tbe lake whose black waters looked like a sea of liquid ebony. By tbe dim lights of tbe lantern 1 descried two smaller boats and a broad plank between. In an Instant I read it all; but, lm “My own!” be began, but suddenly sbe tore herself from bis embrace, saying playfully: “How do I know tbat Dr. Summerville and Admetus are one and tbe self-same person? Prove your identity, sir.” For a moment the doctor gazed into the spark ling eyes thoughtfully, and then said: “There was a Bible, a small, well-worn Bible which did not bear the owner’s name, but upon its first blank leaf were tbe words: ‘To my dear boy, from his devoted, Motber.’ and then below was written: ‘May it be a lamp to his feet and a light to nis path.’ “Do you remember such a book, such words, and tbe disclosures wblcb followed?” “Enough! enough!” she exclaimed. “To-mor row you shall have your little Bible that I have loved and prized so long; more for its owner’s sake, I fear, tban for its own intrinsic excel- lence.” uctwOTu. iu an maittut 1 reau it an, uui, uu- xcuuo. patient for tbe end, I sprang into one of tbe “That Bible parted us once, now it brings us presence was now forgotten, tbe young man ... - - - i. Ola read on stepped again to tbe folding doors. Passing into the back parlor, he approached ber unobserved, for bis foot fell noiselessly upon tbe soft carpet. For some moments be stood silent ly gazing at her. One step nearer he advancedi Now her head turned quickly, her eyes met bis, and, balf rising, sbe uttered a low cry of sur prise. Tbe book fell from ber band and a tre mor seized her, which became more and more violent. Neltber had spoken, for a strange em barrassment overwhelmed botb, but, summon ing ber usual self-possession, Ola bowed grace fully, saying: “Dr. Sommerville, I presume.” “Miss DuVall,” roplied the young man me chanically, as be bowed in return. A call from Dr. DuVall, announcing the wak ing of tbe cbild, brought back tbe young pbysi cian to bis duty. Turning quickly, he left tbe bewildered girl, and, unable to resist the desire to look again, be saw tbat ber face was buried in ber bands, which rested upon tbe arm of tbe ebair, wbile at ber feet lay tbe forgotten book. Tbe pressure of the new physician’s hand made little Marah call piteously for Ola, and tbe sound of ber baby voice made tbe trembling girl spring from her ebair and start forward. Leaning over the babe, sbe was about to raise ber in her arms, but, glancing up quickly, sbe met a pair of eyes fastened upon ber face with an expression of Intense interest. Her arms fell powerless, a gray pallor overspread ber face, and witb a quivering lip sbe whispered faintly “Father, please take ber.” “My cbild! my child!” exclaimed her father, “bow pale you are! What is the matter, dar ling?” ‘“Please, father, take me away.' Dr. DuVall drew her near an open window, but almost every question she answered by an entreaty to be earned away. The old pbysician approached ber fatber and said: “ Doctor, tbe constant care and anxiety of Ma rah is too much for your daughter.” Then, turning to Ola, be said cheerfully “Miss DuVall, you must yield your charge to our safe keeping and tbe care of ber faithful nurse. You must trust to our skill, and not al low your mind to be overtaxed. You bave been too closely confined in this room for tbe past week, and you need rest, diversion and fresb air. In prescribing for Marab we must not for get you.” Tbe young physician spoke quickly and eager ly, turning to ber fatber. “Perbaps a ride, sir, will be of benefit to your daugbter. My phaeton stands at tbe door, and is at your service. Since you botb cannot leave our little patient, will you trust your daugbter to a stranger? It will afford me pleasure to ac company her if sbe will permit it. I think tbe fresn air and tbe ebange of scene will fully re store her.” “Will you go, my child?” At first tbere was a slight hesitation, and then witb evident reluctance she arose to go. “ Would you prefer me to go with you, dar ling?” be whispered. “No, sir,” sbe almost inaudibly murmured. “Go back to Marab, please.” it was not to the botel tbat tbey drove. On the fiery horses flew until the city was left be hind ; and now, as tbe green lawns were reached, tbe driver cbecked their speed at tbe command of tbe Doctor. Till this moment no word had been spoken, but now be turned bis glance to tbe still pale face beside bim and asked: Miss Oia DuVall? ’ emphasizing tbe Miss. Yes. sir,” sbe replied faintly. 1 Was it ever Miss Ola Gray ?” And be looked beneath her velvet bat most anxiously. “Yes, sir,” she murmured in a choking voice. “And were you ever in the cave beneath ML Solitaire?'’ “Yes, sir.” “You knew the Black Prince well?” “I did.” “And Mezzofarite?” “Yes, yes.” “And Admetus?” was almost whispered. Her head sunk low upon ber bands. “You knew bim then?” But a short quick sob was tbe only reply. A smile lighted tbe face of tbe young man, and in a glad voice be exclaimed: Ola!” small boats almost before Charon’s boat, upon wbicb I stood, touched iL I was laid upon tbe plank and strapped. Very busy tbe old lrlsb- man made himself about me, and it was bis hand tbat held tbe weight wblcb was to drag me to tbe depths below. The command was given to tie tbe weighL The good fellow ea gerly obeyed, calling out it was done. Then came tbe signal, at wbich tbe boats parted; but tbe wailing refrain wbicb burst from tbe lips of all the men, prevented their bearing tbe heavy boom, boom, boom, as tbe weight bore loose from its slip-knot, and fell to tbe bottom of tbe lake. Neither could tbey see me floating down witb the tide, upon my raft I waited to sink but so weight dragged me down, and on I found myself drifting to tbe outlet. Somewhat above tbe arcb way 1 struck and stopped. 1 knew well tbe place, and partly freeing one band and foot I pushed along tbe wall, and tbougb tbe water was bigb, still so closely was I strapped that I passed safety beneath tbe rock. On I floated outside until 1 struck a bank, then with iuy balf freed hand I sought my knife. Tbe strap was soon severed, my raft destroyed and 1 escaped. Yes, no doubt tbe Prince tbougnt me long lying safe at tbe bottom ot Acberon, but bis calculations failed. My good old Irishman lives near me, and shall never leave me as long as tifesbali last.” So interested bad Ola become tbat sbe now sat with eyes fixed upon tbe bandsome face of bim sbe bad so long thought dead. “1 do not wonder at your doubting expres sion,” be continued witb a smile, “for I know it is hard for you to believe I am tbe veritable Ad metus so long tbougbt dead—perhaps so long for gotten.” His voice slightly quavered. Ola withdrew ber gjze. “But,” he said more cbeerlully, “I must tell you of my subsequent life. After my miracu lous escape, I joined all tbat remained of my divided family. Witb open arms and hearts I was received; and I moved about incognito. In a short time, a few days I think, I learned tbat tbe band was dispersed. In ecstasy I beard it. but never could 1 learn one word of the Prince or yourself. 1 made tbe most persevering, un tiring inquiries, but notbing could I bear. You wonuer perbaps at my quick success in my pro fession, but it is easily explained. Within tbe cave I contracted a love for surgery from a sim ple desire to relieve tbe sufferings of those whose joints were dislocated and limbs weakened by repeated visits to “11 Sospiro,” and experience taugbtmemany useful lessons. Besides, tne library of our cave contained a very excellent and extensive collection of medical works. The Prince was tbe pbysician as well as tbe leader of tbe band; and tbe care wbicb be bestowed on bn men wben sick, was a great means of attach ing tbem to bis person. His love for tbe medi cal profession bad induced bim to supply tbe library so abundantly with medical works, wbich be studied much bimself, and to wbicb be per mitted me to bave access. With tbis advantage during my long abode in tbe cave, I was enabled to make sucb progress in medical knowledge as bas been highly serviceable to me since. After my escape I followed inclination, and became a pbysician so as to relieve tbe sufferings of ray fellow-men. I am no longer Admetus, but Dr. Eugene Summerville. Is not tbe name an im provement?” ••j believe it is sir«** “Miss Ola, there is* a splendid spring yonder. Will you go witb me and enjoy a cool drink? I» will refresh you. Will you go?” Ola assented. Tbe carriage stopped, and together tbe two walked on the soft yielding carpet of moss. It was a lovely romantic spring, into wbich the eglantine peeped and blusbed at its own beau ty, wbile tbe waterlily, the Annncan lotus dipped its delicate spotless bead. The refresh ing draught was enjoyed, but still they lingered. Upon tbe mossy bank tbey sat, and at lengtb ae oppressive silence was broken by tbe doctor. "Does tbis scene—our present position—recall eronlngdn -the cave to yonr jemhibhrance ?” Ola colored, but did not reply. “Have you forgotten it? Perbaps your mem ory is not se faithful as mine.” “No, sir, I bave forgotten no occurrence of the cave. Every event Is engraven upon my memory indelibly.” “Do not be alarmed, Miss Ola, at tbe illusion. I bave no tbougbt of bolding you to tbe promise then exacted. It would be unfair, ungenerous, ungentiemaniy; but may I ask you one or two questions without the risk of being tbougbt rudely inquisitive?” "You may.” “Did the Black Prince ever make you feel your obligations?” ‘ No—yes. I can hardly answer you.” “Did be never make any requisitions?” “How, sir?” “Did be never exact a promise of marriage?” “No, he never exacted it.” “Did be never try? Excuse me, if I am tres passing upon forbidden ground, but I am too deeply interested in your answer to let you “He did endeavor to obtain such a promise, but ” Tbere was a pause. “But wbat, Miss Ola, if I may ask?” “I told bim I did not love him, and would nev er utter a perjured vow—besides I was not free to act.” "Notfree?” There was no reply. “You are not tree now, perbaps, and 1 bave no right to question you any further. Forgive my presumption.” Ola was contused and silent, and her compan ion with a deeply troubled expression became silent too. For a long time tbey continued tbus. but at length, witb a voice slightly tremulous he said: “As you are not free, Miss Ola, tbe vows by which you are bound, no true woman will con sent to break.” Ola was distressed beyond expression, but sbe could not frame a reply- A beavy sigh from ber companion made ber exclaim: “Doctor!” but again sbe paused sadly per plexed. “I am torturing you, Miss Ola, and it is wrong, it is cruel. You are not to blame. I exonerate you from every shadow of inconstancy. How could I bope tbat one so beautiful would remain unsought! Ob! freely do I acquit you of all blame, but it is hard, very bard.” For a moment bis eyes rested tenderly upon ber crimson face, and tben be exclaimed pas sionately: “We must go. I cannot trust myself any longer near you, or else my poor beart will be gin to urge its claims with an eloquence born of idolatry. Wbo would not feel rlcn with sucb a love, witb sucb vows—but come, come I must go. I dare not stay and talk to one wbo is tbe affianced bride of another, and wbo v>as once my own promised love.” He sprang to bis feet. Ola slowly, almost In voluntarily arose, but sbe did not move to re turn. She felt tbat the time bad come wben sbe must speak, and witb a forced calmness said: “You said rightly, no true woman ever forgets her vows. Sbe never does ” Husb! say no more. I did not nrge you to break them. I bave not so far forgotten bonor,” and be spoke witb great rapidity. “No, doctor, sbe never forget tbem—not even though years intervene.” Sbe could not raise her eyes, for she felt his petrified gaze was upon ber; and deeper and deeper tbe crimson dyed ber cbeeks. “Surely,” be said, “I did not hear aright. Tell me once again. My beart throbs almost to burst ing. To wbom are you bound? To wbom were those deathless vows made? I must ask; I must know.” His manner was so unnatural tbat It disarmed her fears; and raising her eyes sbe met bis fiery gaze witb a smile. Laying her Angers lightly upon bis band, sbe said In a low, earnest voice: “Once, twice, I bave said it, and now for the third time, I repeat it: ‘God do so to me and more also if ever my beart and band are sev ered. and to none otber do they botb belong but —Admetus.’ ” Tbe last words were almost inaudibly whis pered, but by tbe tightly-clasped band sbe knew tbat tbey were beard, tbougb sbe dared not glance up to tbe iace over wbich tide after tide of bappiness was rushing. “Ob! say tbat once again. Tell me if I may dare to claim those promises made so long ago? How tbey bave cbeered me, and bow 1 have clung to tbe feeble bope tbat my eyes might rest upon your face again. God only knows how days and nights I bave prayed for this. Tell me once again, are you bound to no other?” “To none but Admetus.” “Even tbougb you thought him dead?” “Yes, even though I tbougbt him dead.” “Ana did you love bim on, even though vile aspersions were whispered against him?” “Tbey harmed him noL I knew tbat be was true.” “You trusted bim, tbougb be did not meet you?” Without one doubt.” together again.” And sbe was drawn close again to his bosom. Ere tbe ride was over it was quite dark, and Dr. duVall, wbo bad come to tbe notel in search of bis daugbter, was pacing tbe parlor in ill-con cealed anxiety. Approaching footsteps made him pause in his round of walking. “My child,” he exclaimed, as Ola came in sight, “you nave made me very uneasy.” “I am sorry, dear fatber.” “Doctor, don’t blame ber. I am tbe culprit, and to-night I will plead guilty to almost any charge from your lips. You thought you con fided your child to a comparative stranger, but, sir, you did not know all. Long years ago we knew and loved eacb ether, ana wben we were parted by a ruthless, jealous band, we were be- trotbed.kShe tbougbt me dead, for the arrow was adroitly aimed, but it turned aside. Sbe was borne far away, and not until tbis Dlisslul evening bave I ever heard from her, notwith standing my diligent inquiries. We bave been true to eacb other, doctor. You will not, you cannot part us now.” Almost unconsciously as he was speaking be beld out bis band to Ola, and bers had been si lently yielded and was now clasped in botb of bis. as be added: “Doctor, give me my long-sought Ola. You shall never, never repent tbe gift.” Tbe “boy,” mentioned In tbe “Confession” of tbe Black Prince was Instantly remembered by tbe fatber. Greatly affected, Dr. duVall beld tbe clasped bands in bis a moment, tben in a voice quiver ing witb tbe deepest emotion, said: "God bless you, my children," and turned away. CHAPTER XXIII. Beneath tbe care and skill of Dr. Summer ville, little Marab improved astonishingly. His attentions were most assiduous, for as sbe was dear to Ola, sbe was necessarily so to bim. So marked were bis demonstrations for bis affi anced bride, tbat tbe old doctor’s suspicions were aroused, and tbe story was confided to bim. Itwasabappy, Joyous time for all; but soon Dr. duVall announced that be must return home. Dr. Summerville declared bis intentions to accompany tbem. Tbe trip was made, and tbe motber’s reluct ant consent to a speedy marriage gained, upon tbe condition tbat Ola sbould never leave ber parental home; to which condition tbe doctor cheerfully assented. Preparations were now made for the wedding regardless of expense. Even the old doctor came from the distant city to witness tbe joy of tbe two wbo bad found eacb otber in his back parlor. Surpassingly lovely was Ola on her bridal night; and tbe bridegroom also was pronounced incomparably handsome. Tbe feast was one in wbicb joy seemed tbe guest of every beart. In theinidst of gratulations, tbe fasbionable circle stood back aghast as a rough Irishman stepped forward and extended bis coarse sunburnt band, saying: “Bless tbe daf^ tbat iver a son of my mitber lived to see this boor. May tbe holy Vargin shield you botb, Is tbe wish of Patbrlck Malone, sure are It 1st” Thank you, Pat, thank you,” exclaimed the doctor. “Good friend.” said Ola, extending her wbite gloved band, “to you I owe all tbe bappiness of this hour ” But her heart was too full to allow ber to utter another word. • Tbe scene was becoming too affecting for a g ay bridal; and Pat, brushing his sleeve across is eyes, walked away. The reception day passed, bridal calls were returned, and then, in the quiet happiness of borne, the joyous pair settled down to life and its multiform duties. THE END. I oWe nriy Restoration to Health and B^aUty to the c u t i c unA Remedies’* D ISFIGURING Humors, Humiliating Erup- ti • i. Itching Tortures, Eczema, Psoriasis, Scrofula, and Infantile Humors cured by the Cutiouba Remedies. Cunouba Resolvent, the new blood purifier, cleanses the blood and perspiration of impurities a d poisonous elements, and thus removes the cause, Cutiouba, tbe great Skin Cars, instantly allays Itching and Inflammation, clears ths Skin and Scalp, heals Ulcers and Sores, and restores tbs Hair. Cutiouba Soap, an exqnisits Skin Beautifies and Toilet Requisite, prepared from Cun CUBA, is indispensable in treating Skin Diseases, Baby HuniWte. Skin Blemishes, Chapped and Oily Skill. Sold everywhere. Pnoe, Cuticura, 50 cents; Soap, 25 cents; Resolvent, $1. Potteb Decs auti Chemical Co.. Boston. Mass. EySend for “How to Cure Skin Diseases. Sharp, Sudden, Sciatic, Neuralgic, Rheu matic and Nervons Pams instantly relieved by CunouBA Anti-Pain Plasteb 25. Scrofula of Lungs Relieved. 1 am now 49 years old, and have suffered jot tbe last fifteen years with a lung trouble. Sev eral members of the familr on my mother’s sffle of the house had died with consumption, and the doctors were all aareed in their opinion that I had consumption also. I had all the distress ing symptoms of that terrible disease. I bave spent thousands of dollars to arrest tbs march of this disease; 1 have employed all of the usual methods, not only in my own case, but in the treatment of other members of my family, but temporary relief was all that I obtained I was unfit for any manual labor for several years. By chance I came iDto. possession of a pamchlet on “Blood and Skin Diseases.” from the offioe of SwiftSpecific Co.. Atlanta, Ga. A friend recom mended the use of Swift’s Specific, claiming that he himself had been greatly benefitted by its use in some lung troubles. 1 resolved to try iL About four years ago I commenced to take S. s S. S. according to directions. I found it an invig orating tonic, and have used about fifty bottles. The results are most remarkable. My cough has left me, my strength has returned, and I weigh sixty pounds more than I tver did in my life. It has been three years since I stopped the ns# of the medicine, but I have bad no return of ths disease, and there are no pains or weakness fell in my lungs. I do the hardest kind of mechan ical work, and Del as well as I ever felt since I was a boy. These, I know, are wonderful state ments to make, but I am honest when I say that Iowe my existence and health to-day to Swift’s Specifio. It is the only medicine that brought me any permanent relief. I do not say that Swift’s Specific will do this in every case, but most positively affirm that it has done this much for me, and I would be recreant to the duty I owe to suffering humanity if I bad failed to bear this cheerful testimony to the merits of this wonderful medicine. I am well known in tbe oity of Montgomery, and can refer to some of the beet citizens in the city. T. J. Holt. Montgomery, Ala., June 25,1885. ~~MARY SHARP COLLEGE. WINCHESTER TENN. Chartered 1850. The Trials of Wives. Some one wisely says: Now, wben you are thinking wbat a bard thing It Is for “a poor la. boring man” to support bis family, do you ever tbink anything about wbat it Is for bis wife to do ber part? Tbere are three hundred and sixty-five days in a year, and on every one of these days tbe hossewlfe bas to get up and dress tbe children, and get breakfast and wash the dishes, and sweep tbe floors, and get dinner and wash the dishes, and get supper ana wash the dishes besides snob otber little barmless diversions as making tbe beds, and dusting, and washing and Ironing, and baking, and making the fires, and sifting the coal asbes, and mending tbe stock ings, and sewing on the buttons, and trimming tbe lamps, and fixing the pickles, and scrubbing tbe oil-cloth, and altering tbe children’s dress es, and keeping tbeir father’s pantaloons Intact, and trading with tbe tin-peddler, and planning sometblng new* for dinner, and contriving to make one dollor do wben two is needed. Yes that’s a very little of what a housewife bas to do. Domestic machinery never goes like clock work. We bave read about It in books; we bave heard of women wbo always wore clean, fresb collars and spotless dresses, and wbo al : ways met tbeir husbands witb a smile—women who do their own housework—but we didn’t know any of tbem. Tbey’re not lying around bere just at present, in our vicinity. Tbere are times in tbe life of everybody when things are set and determined to go wrong. It would seem as if they were sort of foreordained to total depravity. Things will burn wbile cooking, and things will boil over, no matter bow much clockwork a housekeeper’s system may be. Hot wercber will sour milk and turn butter rancid, and make cus tards “ropy,” Id spite of all tbe system in the world. Cake sometimes will refuse to rise, or having risen, will go down flat as tbe stock of a defaulted bank, and you cau’c help it, and you can’t tell tbe reason wby. Company will come wben you haven’t a thing cooked in the bouse; and tbougb tbey know tbat every housewife frequently gets Into tbat same state of empty nothingness as regards ber cup board, tbey will judge you accordingly; and though tbey will assure you tbat it Is not of tbe slightest consequence, tney will tell cousin Mary Ann, and sister May, and all the r#st of tbem, tbat “you didn’t bave a thing to eat in tbe house and had to go right to cooking!” And tbey will all look unutterable things at eacb otber, just as If you bad committed some unbeard of crime. The honsewiie bas to see tbat nothing _ wanted. Sbe must manage to fix up tbe dry bread into tbe disguise of pudding and get it eaten. Sbe most freshen up tbe roast beef so tbat it will be presentable tbe tbird day for din ner. She must make over tbe codfish into flsb- balls, and steam yesterday’s buckwheat cakes so tbat tbey may serve for another meal. She must make, and mend, and cook, and plan, and contrive, and her brain never finds rest. She goes to bed planning what sbe shall bave for breakfast, and sbe gets np wondering wbat possible variation sbe can play on beef and potatoes and flour bread for dinner. She can’t strike and go aronnd tbe streets pa/ rading a flaming banner and a motto heaping curses on tbe rich. Sbe can’t go to tbe corner grocery and talk it over witb tbe boys. Sbe can’t take ber pipe and lose ber tired brains In smoke. Sbe can’t even run over to ber neigh bor's and compare notes, for little Willie bas torn bis trousers, and trousers are one of the in exorable facts of life and must be mended. And so we ask you to bave some sympathy for tbe wife of tbe poor man; and if you cannot re member ber In any other way, do it in your prayers. It is a cheap way. CONSUMPTION CUBED. An old pbysician, retired from practice, hav ing bad placed in his bands by an East India missionary the formula of a simple vegetable remedy for the speedy and permanent cure of Consumption, Bronchitis, Catarrh, Astbma and all throat and lung affections—also, a positive and radical core for Nervons Debility and all nervous complaints—after having tested its wonderful curative powers in thousands of cases, has felt it bis duty to make it known to bis suffering fellows. Actuated by tbis modve and a desire to relieve human suffering, I will send free of charge, to all who desire it, tbis re cipe in German, French or English, with full di rections for preparing and using. Sent by mail by addressing, with stamp, naming tbis paper, W. A. Notes, 149 Power’s Block. 554-91 eow. Rochester, N. Y. The first college in America that from Its or ganization has required from its graduates a de gree of scholarship equal to that given in ths beet universities for men. The claims of this Institution are based upon its high standard of culture; its extended curri culum of study; the efficiency of its teaching force;tand its history, showing that it has won undisputed fame for solid, thorough, honest work. . Eminent men have given their verdict. “It is without a parallel in this country.” Hon. A. 8. Colyar. ... “I know of no institution for women where the scholarship of the graduates can compar- with that of the‘graduates of Mary Sharp Col. lege:” Prof. G. W. Jarman. LL. D. “Its faculty in culture and ability second to none.” Hbn. A. 8. Marks, Ex-Gov Tenn. “Equal to any school in America or women.” Rev. G. W. Griffin, D. D. “I have never seen its superior.” Rev. Thos. C. Teaedale, D.D. “I know of no institution that surpasses iL” Rev. T. T. Eaton, D. D. Its location, nearly midway between Nashville and Chattanooga, was selected after careful de liberation, because of its pure mountain air, sparkling waters and freedom frvm malaria. Expenses, for one year, inoloding board, wash ing, tarnished room and tuition, $1954X1; with music $255.00. With parents who desire a symetrieal. substan tial education for their children, we respectfully solicit correspondence. We ask a careful exam ination ot our catalogues which will be cheerful ly sent upon application to A. T. BARRETT, Secretary of Faculty. HOLMES’ KOBE COM MOUTH TUB Bn.J. p.gw.g.i;su«, UEll. MAN KIN A LAMAR, HOLMES’ EnZStilVZ ^ ble cure for Ulcerated Sore Throat, Bleeding Gums, Sore Month and Ulcers. Cleans the Teeth and Kheps the Gums healthy. Prepared solely by Drs. J. PTa W. B. Holmes, Dentists, 102 Mulberry street, Macon, Ga For sale by Lamar, Bankln A 1 and Howard A Candler. Atlanta. Ga HowToBuil Just published. A large book, giving plans, views, descriptions ana rvJfv iM* cone of 40 modem houses. MOD y* up to SSJIOO, for all climates. So completes book of this kind usually costs $5 OCR FS1CS ONLT SOct*. •encnost-pald. Address, BUILDING A88O0IATT0*. U Bee It man St.. .Box na. > X.f MODERN -COST HOUSES. ' . D UNIFORMS] Beautifully Illustrated Catalogue of Band | and Drum Corps Uniforms. 30 colored 1 a*hioa plates, illustration! and prices of Hat*, Helmets, Caps, Pour ho. Belt* t Drum Mwor Outfit*. Pompous. Plumes, " w Epaulettes.Shoulder Knots, Gold Coed and Laces. Buttons, Ornament*. Band add Procaa- •ion Plan and Banners, Cap Lamp* etc. | Mailed free. LYON & HEALY. Chicago.) N ewengland CONSERVATORY 0F MUSIC Boston, Mass, THE LARGEST mod BEST EQUIPPED in the WORLD—100 Instructor*,2005 Students last year. Thor ough Instruction in Vocal and Instrumental Music, Piano and Organ Tuning, Fine Arts, Oratory, Literature, French, Ger man and Italian Languages, English Branches, Gymnastics, etc.- Tuition, $5 to $20; board and room with Steam Heat and Electric Light, $45to $75per term. Fall Term begins Sep tember 9,1886. For Illustrated Calendar, with fbll information, address, E. TOURJEE, Dir., Franklin Sq. ( BOSTON, Mas* (654 its.) XT / 111/ TO GET A SMALL PICTURE OF I1U vv yourself or friend copied and en larged at cost and also get into a good paying business. For particulars address Southxbh Copying Co., No. 9 Marietta SL, Atlanta, Ga.