Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 2, Number 44, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 27 April 1872 — Page 2

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music oat of it, in a manner that was marvellous in one of her lite and parentage.

I was always perfectly with th-J violin, anyone c»nld 0rry tffe away with it, and I listened with my whole soul in my ears.

A Southerner sat next me on the

fn

raards, a rough, ooarse looking fellow* his miner's drens, hft mudstained over-alls, his grey flannel shirt but that man hai a heart in his bosom— and as likely as not a heavy belt of gold around his waist.

As the wild, soul-stirring strains of Dixie rang out on the water he dropped his head on his folded arms, and I could see the bright tears flash in the moonlight. Ioould imagine how the thrilling {sweetness of that air filled his heart with an unutterable longing and homesickness, that inexpressible joy, which is akin to pain.

When she concluded, and passed around, the Southerner dropped a a bright piece of gold in the eager little hand?

My child," said he, detaining her, "who do you belong to No one. My father got killed when the boiler burst, and ever since then I have travelled up and down the river, taking care of myself."

Poor little thine," murmured he, "Would you not like to live to leave this life and go to school

Oh yes," said she, the light flashing into her eyes. That was the last I saw or heard of them then, and I shouuld have forgot ten the circumstance entirely, had not after occurrences reminded me of it I returned home from my wandering life and settled down, married, went into business and accumulated money. Three children were born to me, which we were bringing up and educating in the best manner.

Ten or twelve years had passed. I happened to be one night in my box at the theater with my wife. I was rather tired, not interested at all, when sud denly my ear canght a fresh sweet voice, and aroused me to attention. A new face had appeared on the boards, evidently new to such sceues, for there was the slightest perceptible tremor in her voice at first, the natural trepidation of one so young, en her first appearance, but that was a charm to the audience: nothing blame or faded by the lare ana glitter of gaslight and pubicity, in that face or voice.

f,

She soon recovered her slight stagefright, and her yoice, clear and sweet as a bird's carol, fell on the delighted ear of the audience, her face beamed, not with a set stage smile, but sparkled with girlish glee, as if she really enjoyed what she was singing. Each stanza of the simple little ballad, I forget what. It was,—some trifle—concluded with a few dance steps, and she danced as she sung as if her whole heart was in it. Sheiuipeared to sing as naturally an-1 unaffectedly as a bird sings, and her dance was apparently the spontaneous Impulse of a glad, free heart,that the whole house was taken by surprise, was hushed in breathless silence a moment, aud then burst into rapturous applause.

She was as much surprised as any one at her own succors. She cast a startled, almost frightened, glance around the house a moment, and then her bright young face dimpled into smiles again. There was something so winning and graceful In her munnor, as she made ner acknowledgements. It was the perfection of girlish grace, that «ompletely won my heart as it did all others.

Unheralded, unannounced, entirely unknown, this young girl attained at her first appearanco, the position of a popular favorite so strange are the caprices of public approbation.

I am at a loss to account for ho furore sho created. Her voico was very sweet and true, but thero was nothing wonderful about it. I think her manner had a great deal to do with it. she acted and sang and danced with the unconscious artlessness of a child, as if she liked to, and couldn't help It. I hardly know how to express myself, boys. I cannot describe the nameless charm sho exercised over the whole audience. If it was aoting, it was the truest and most consummate acting—the art of naturalness. It appealed directly to the heart, and carrlod us all away spellbound. My heart beat fast, my eyes filled with tears, as I gazed, for there was something familiar about her, something that reminded of the past, in a way that tantalised and perplexed me all along.

The next night I was In my box again, this time without my wile, and provided with a bouquet or choice and costly flowers. No longer blase and ennuiod, I was excited, feverish, all Impatience, until again appeared that young slender figure, that bright winning face. I do not know whether sho noticed my wrapt, earnest devotion or wot, but I must have attracted her attention, for the next tlure she returned to the stage, after a shower of bouquet*. she hud my flowers In her hand, and by a glance towards my box, showed me that she recognised and appreciated the favor.

From where I was I could see a tall, dark looking man behind the scenes, standing with folded arms and jealously watching her every movement. Could it be uer husband"? Impossible! She was too young, and yet he seemed to have some kind of claim upon her. There was something familiar about him, too, as if I had seen and knowu him before.

After the play was over, I harried behind the scenes, with what definite object I know not, for I did not know any one there. However, fortunately I met a young man,a friend of mine, a hnmtue of such places.

Ah, Travers" said bo "wtiat is it Infatuated with labtite Veneta, like the rest of us. I saw that bouquet thrown—but not a word will I say either to or about Madame Travers— husbands are but men. Come, I have the honor of an acquaintance, and will give you an Introduction."

We went to the green-room, where I found the young act row, chatting and laughing with two or three gentlemen.

Sho had a fleecy white shawl thrown around her and over her head. The tall, dark man stood Jnst back of her, hat in hand. They w»-re evidently just about to quit toe theater. As ray friend and 1 drew near her eyes brightened, I fancied, and with an involuntary gesture, she suffered her little jeweled band, still holding my flowers, to appear from beneath her shawl. J-he greeted my friend with cordial warmth, and when I was presented, extended her hand with the frankness of a school girl.

I was jnst Inviting my friends here to take supper with me to-night," said •he smilingly. "Should bo happy to •as you both, at my house, in about an hour—until then, au rerotr." And with a graceful bow, she took the arm of the tall, dark man, and quitted the theatre.

By George,** «*W ny friend a» we sained the atreet, "she Is a delicious little thing—so piquant—yet and inocsnt looking. And she Is inno-

excitement and temptation, enough to [turn stronger heads than hers. And she enjoys it, too, the wild, reckless society in which steels plaoed—perhaps that old death's bead at her elbow will not let her go to destruction if he can help it, but wheat women nce get the bit between their teeth, no brake on, ail the-way down? bill—they are pretty hard to stop."

Who is he?" said I, "What is be to her?" Who knows?" said my friend, with a shrug of bis shoulders. "St. Clare is bis name,and he Is her shadow. Sometimes she playfully calls him 'Guardy.' They say he educated her and intends to iharrv her. He is rather quiet and

f'rave,

nut any one can see that he

oves her devotedly. Whether she loves bim or not, is bard to say, peihaps she is too young to be serious about anything.

At the aopointed hour we made our way to Miss Veneta Starling's resi dence. It wss an elegant cottagel splendidly and luxuriously furnished, adorned with costly pictures and statuary. Whe found her in her parlor, the folding doors of which opened on one side in the dining room, where the table was also set out, with a glittering service of silver, costly china, and attractive with brilliant lights and flowers. On the other side of the parlor, the glass doors that opened into the conservatory, were also plished aside, disclosing the gorgeous tropical flowers, the sparkling of a fountain and bright winged birds, warbling in the summer atmosphere.

Miss Starling was sitting on a low, softly cushioned divan, talking gaily to two or three gentlemen grouped around her. There were present two ladies besides herself, also actresses, and about half a dozen gentlemen. She had changed her stage dress, tor a silk dinner costume, of heavy silk, some dark, rich color, softened around her throat by an abundance of costly lace, in the meshes of which diamonds glittered, and on her neck and t»rins, and waves of her dark hair, spanning her graceful head like a coronet. But no gems could equal the starry brilliance of her eyes no dress could add to the fascinating charm of her manner and conversation. She was in her element, at the head of that reckless, admiring circle, and thoroughly she enjoyed It, too. But what a dangerous and trying position for one so young and thoughtless. Surrounded by admirers and flatterers, with no judicious female friend near her, to caution her as to the effect, of the highly spiced wiue, of excitement and adulation, which was constantly held to her lips.

The banquet was a thoroughly enjoyable affair. Every delicacy of the season, hot coffee, costly wines, and it was not long before our mirth and excitement was at its heightb.

Play for us. Miss Veneta," said a thin young stripling, after supper was ov«r, a young man of wealth, who was taking his first taste of dissipation, "give us something on the violin."

When the little old brown violin was brought to her, and the weird, wailing, homesick strains of Dixie sounded in my ears, then I knew who she was. Vanished in an instant, the gay laughing, riotous crowd, the glittering table, the brilliant lights and flowers, again I found myself on the deck of that steamer on the turbid waters of the Sacramento. Again I saw the low, green shores melting in the mists of twilight, the saddened and hushed passengers I felt the fresh ocean breeze lifting the hair from my brow, and saw the little chrysalis that bad burst into this brilliant butterfly. And St. Clare was the wealthy Southerner, who had from that time, adopted and educated, and learned to love her, as did every ono, brought in reach of her fascinations.

It was very nearly dawn when we bade our young hostess good bye, and although signs of drowsiness and fatigue began to show themselyts around the dark, bright eyes, still she was girlishly gay.

Call again," said she, in a low tone to me, as I bade her good night. I was not mistaken in the idea that she showed partiality to me.

May I saiu I eagerly. "When "To-morrow—or rather to day. Call early, that is before noon, other callers come after then—till then good night." And again she gave me her little warm hand which I pressed as warmly as I dared.

When I called the next morning, I was shown up stairs, Into a little private parlor that opened out of ner sleeping apartment. In a charming, careless neglige, her hair simply brushed, and hanging loosely uncurled around her face,her soft eyes still heavy from recent slumbor,she had evidently just ariseu. "I dare not admit the sunlight too brightly," said sho, as Iwas ushered into the darkened and shaded room, "for fear» vou might seo the marks of dissipation and late hours In my face. I am positively getting old. I am still In my teens, and yet I discovered a crowsfoot near my left eye this morning— and no wonder I exist but in society, I am never alone when I am awake, and up nearly all night every night, it is no uso for me to go to bed, I caunot sleep after the excitement of the theatre, so I surround myself with a merry circle of friends. This life is wearing me out fast— I shall not live out half my days—but n'importc—a short life and a merry one."

Let us live while we do live," said I chiming in with her reckless mood,as she ii'itiuned me to a scat, and sank herself into an easy chair.

Won't you havoa cup of coffee with me?" said'she as she lifted a coffee cup of the rarest chinn, from a breakfast service of frosted silver, on the table at her side. "Shall 1 ring for another cup?" I declined.

I am hardly awake,** said she covering a little yawn with her ringed hand, "and tiotning in the world but a call from you would have dragged me out of bed t»t this hour." "Thank you," mid I, bowing. 'Vs' "I will soon be myself," said she, "as soon as I have drank my coffee. Nothing li^» the Arabian berry when rightly prepared, fur arousing all powers of the soul, and making brilliant.''

1J1V1VU XXJ iV -J

the one

No necessity for it, in your case, I am suns'' •*id I. 1 was not fishing tor that compliment, thank you, sir," said she, and with that we engaged in a merry conversation, which made the time Hy by on lightning wing*. Durinu tbe course of it, she mentioned St. Clare. "St. Clare?" said I interrogatively, "What is he to you

He is the best frlenJ I have in the world," said she warmly. "He made me what I am—he took me, a poor neglected orphan, educated one in the best ol schools, gave me a thorough musical education, Indulged every caprice of mine, allowed me to enter the stage because I desired it, bis bounty rendered it unnecessary—*11 I have I owe to him." "Such gratitude generally leads to love,'* said I, almost rudely. "He no doubt expects his reward at some fu­

I do not know," said she, the brigh

color flushing, her oheek suddenly, he is a tried and cherished MemjL per haps he desires no more—but le$ ps not talk of thai. I Will not think 6f the future, I will atjoy the present."!

And we did^ from that timehense forth, give ourselves up to the enjoy ment of each other's society,unheeding all other claims and tios. I had standing invitation to call every morning, and those days I passed with her every day only deepened my infatuation. We were, as yet, only free, intimate confidential friends no word of love bad ever passed between us, but she took no pains to conceal from myself or others, that I was her acknowledged favorite.

Se was a wild, reckless, though tleis, creature. She had never bad any restraining, judicious training, accus tomed to the indulgence of every caprice, not knowing or curing anything for the opiniou of the world, sh gave herself up without restraint, to this gay, riotous living for the present, this life of excitement and dissipation, this sunshine of youth and beauty and applause and love, so delicous and intoxicating while it lasted, but it was impossible in the nature of things it should last.

St. Clare was an impenetrate study. He evidently loved her, but he evinced no jealousy of me. Things progressed in this manner about three months. She was still the successful and popular actress, and still our intimacy continued still I passed every morning with her, to ti.e keen enjoyment of both. But things could not always move on in this manner, the crisis must come at lust. I was alone with her one morning. We were looking at a picture together, I was seated, and she was standing by my side, bending over me, pointing out something in the picture. Her warm breath swept across my face, her floating hair touch ed my cheek, and carded away by an Irresistible impulse, I caught her hand.

Veneta—my love—my darling" said I in a low tone "Don't you know I love you?"

The color flushed high over her face, as she attempted to withdraw her hand. I had never seen one so frank and free in her manners, yet who could ward off with such tact and artlessness, every approach towards familiarity. Never during all these months ol intimate and confidential conversation, had whispered a word of love.

But I was carried beyond my pro dence to-day, I had been tantalized and worried long enough by her prudery, by her half-laughing, half-earnest at tempts to parry my advances and yet she encouraged me too.

No, you do not escape me that way" said I desperately grasping both her hands, and looking into her face "you know I love you, do you not!"

Yes" said she faintly, while the color faded from her face. Veneta,—I am a fool about you, I cannot eat nor sleep forthinkingof you, I could take my neait out of my bosom for you to trample on, if it would gratify you, you have encouraged me, until I am hardly myself, I will not be put off, aud trifled with any longer. Are you merely flirting with me Or doyou love me? Answer me."

The changes that passed like sunshine and shadows of an April day, over that young face, the almost fear and shrinking, the delight, the joy, the archness and coquetry, aud then all faded as she stood with downcast eyes, and face in which you could read nothing, while her hands turned to ice in mine. "Answer me—my own darling" whispered I, after a pause, almost frightened at her silence—"say one word—yeu do love me

She raised her dark thrilling eyes to mine, the look was enough, "yes—you know I love you," whispered she, yielding herself to the rapturous torce of my embrace, as I drew her to my knee, and enfolded her In my arms and kissed her again and again. "You love me" said I after a pause, "and not St. Clare?" She petulantly freed herself from my embrace.

Am 1 never to be allowed to forget that man said she bitterly "never allowed to forget that I belong to him, body and soul? Why should you of all the w6rld remind me of it, at this time? Why not permit me for one short moment to be blessed with your love?"

He does not own your Veneta—you are mine and mine alone. No one else has any claim on you."

Travers" said she earnestly, her mood softening" you know all St. Clare has been to me, am I not wicked and ungrateful, when he loves me so, to give mv heart to you

My dearest, you are grateful no one could be more so but gratitude is not love. Our hearts and affections are not under our own control. It would be wrong to profess lovo to him, when your love is mine. Let us listen only to the dictates of our own hearts, and be happv together."

She started with a look of fear. "He is coming! Oh Travers, St. Clare is coming!" and she wrenched her hands from mine, and retreated across the floor. I arose to my feet, as I neard steps ascending the stairs. In moment St. Clare entered the room. His face was pale and sternly set, but be smiled a bitter smile as he greeted us both. 'Veneta why is this?" said he, evidently keeping some strong passion in control. "Is this keeping your promise to me? Why these secret clandestine interviews?" 1 advanced to speak to him, for Is tw that from some carse, sbe was in so tnuch fear she could not speak.

Not secret clandestine meetings" said I warmly "have I not as much right to visit here, as you or any other man Is not Miss Startling's time h^r own! As long as I am agreeable to her, what is it to you What are you to her 1" "What am I to her?" exclaimed he passionately "I am everything to her. Guardian, lover, friend, all in one. Veneta he talks of love to you, no doubt. What is bis love to mine? A fleeting evanescent passion that is grown up in few weeks, and will vanish as soon by possession. My love has grown with your growth. You are the apple of my eye. No harm—no suffering— no disgrace shall come to you it the omnipotence of my love can prevent it." "St. Clare," exclaimed she, clasping his hands and falling on her knees at his feet, "I know I owe everything to vou—but I am false and ungrateful—I am not worthy your devotion"—"do not tell me that, Veneta" cried be "you promised to be true to me, and that vow was as sacred as a marriage vow— I trusted to it. Do not tell me that you have been false, that the love I have tried all my life to win—Isgone."

I honor—and respect you above all other men" sobbed she still clinging fkst to his hands "I am grateful— but—"

I will not listen—Veneta I will not give you up. in spite of yourself I will save you—he shall not have you—mine you shall be—for mine is a true honorable love—"

Not more so than his—oh St. Clare be generous—we love each ether." His! Veneta be does not know the

meaning of the word. He is a villain, for he has won your love a§d

he has

now a wife and Family!" Sbe staffed to herfest, a»d|tirnsd her eyes m*. "ttis nolfiruff^it is impossibli." L'•Ask hltti taid l»e stsrnlj.

Oh Travers—ip it possible you have won my Ipve knowing ittobe rttlned?" said she turning to me, but she read the answer in my face.

Veneta' my darling" said I sooth ingly, forgetting everything but her emotion. "No matter what ties may bind me, I love you and you alone."

My God—my God," screamed sho wringing her hands, "isit possible that you that I loved—can have deceived me so. Your love is an insult—it is disgrace and ruin—and yet I cannot but love you, St. Clare" turning appealing to him "you are my truest friend—save me from myself" and she threw herself into his outstretched arms, and burst into a passion of hysterical tears on his bosom.

Leave mejalone—both of you" said she, after a few moments recovering herself a little, "I shall soon be myself again" and as she insisted, we both left her, but to this day, the sight of that pale despairing face, her gesture of utter hopelessness, as she bade us farewell, haunts me still.

She did not appear at the theater that night.

Her

sudden and alarming

illness" was the plea, the p( rplexea and despairing manager gave, as he hastily substituted something else.

As soon as I knew sbe was not to appear, I started up, aud went towards ber bouse. See her I would that night. I could not sleep until I had seen ner and made my peace with her. With a haunting presentiment of evil, I entered the house as I wus wont to do and went directly up stairs, all was quiet and silent, I push* open the door that stood ajar into her sleeping apartment. She was there. Across the low bedstead that stood in the center of the room, heaped with the snowy frilled linen pillows, and the rosy silken quilt that swept over it, sbe lay in an attitude of utter abandonment and despair, on her face, her arms thrown up, concealing ber face entirely. "Teneta" said I, softly, oppressed with an unaccountable awe, but she moved not. 1 bent over her, took her by the shoulder, its coldness and rigidity alarmed me. 1 passed my hand under her face,aud withdrew it,sticky with blood With a cry of alarm, I raised her up, there was a deep cut in her throat, and her flowing hair, her white robe, the drapery of the bed was dabbled in blood, sbe was quite dead. Scarcely knowing what I did, I instinctively laved my hand, in a heavy silver basin of water, that stood on the marble dressing table near, and at that moment St. Clare entered.

Monster and villain" exclaimed I. "This is your work." Had I indeed struck her with the knife," said he, stooping over the body and laying his head on the ioy brow—"I could not have murdered ber as surely as the consciousness of your perfidy— that was her death blow—but I did not —she killed herself." 'Tis improbable" cried I, "for a woman scarely ever commits suicide in a violent manner—she shrinks from bloodshed. You have murdered her because she loved me."

It is not so," said he, smiling a strangely absent smile, "but why should I take the trouble to deny it. I would have done it, rather thau you should have had her, rather than she should come to ruin and disgrace. She red me to save ber, aud sbe has died pure and innocent. Thank God for that. Life has no charms for me now guilty or not I shall remain here, and give myself up. But as for you, no one need know you were here. For the sake ol your family and position, leave her with me, you can do no good here now,"

I went home and to bed, no one dreamed of my connection with the tragedy. With the rest of the world, I read in the morning papers, the finding of the body, the arrest of St. Clare ana his subsequent suicide in prison.

But what a secret was this to carry in my bosom! After the excitment was over, and every one else had forgotten it, remorse burnt into my heart continually. As St.Clare said, I had as surely murdered that bright young creature, as it I had stabbed her with the knife. At all hours of the day and night, at my fireside, with my Innocent children around me, in the hours of darkness, my wife sleeping the sleep of a quiet conscience, on the pillow at uiy side, I could see that bright happy soul-lit face, as it appeared on the stage, the delight of thousands, be itat the headofhertable, the ornament of our merry circle, »r in her shaded parlor, her dark eyes thrilling with affection for me, and often have I started from my disturbed dreams in the grey morning light, seeing plainly her despairing reproachful glance, as I saw it last.

I could not endure it. I would surely be driven by these reflections to madness and suicide. I was obliged to abandon my home and family forever, and drown my memojy In drink. No doubt my friends think I was murdered, for they could not imagine, wuat possible motive, a man as apparently pleasanty situated as I was, could have for leaving all.

So little do we know of the heart trials of another. My life, that seemed so happy, was rendered Insuppdrtable, in its monotonous routine, by that one haunting memory.

But I must not reflect. Boys, is not my story worthy of drink Cannot some or you treat

WIFK, LADY, MISTRESS—Who marries tor love, takes a wife who marries for fortune, takes a mistress who marries for position, takes a lady. You are loved by your wife, regarded by our mistress, tolerated by your lady.

Ton have a wife for yourself, a mistress for your bouse and friends, a lady for the world and society. Your wife will agree with you. your mistress will rule you, your'lady will manage you. Your wife will take care of your household, your mistress of your bouse, your lady of appearances. If you are sick your wife will nurse you, your mistress will visit you, your lady will inquire after your health'. You take walk with your wife, a ride with your mistress, and go to a party with your ladv. Your wife will share your grief, your mistress your money, your lady vour debts. If you sre dead, your 'wife will weep, your mistress lament, and your lady wear mourning. Which will you have?

A COVSTBTXA)* in Savannah observed a gang ef darkies laboring on the streets, each wearing a ball and chain. He asked one why that ball was chained to bis leg. "To keep people from stealing it," ssid the darkey "heap of thieves about hers."

f1,000 REWARD is offered by the proprietor of Dr. Pierce's Golden Medical Dtooovery for a medicine that will eqosl it in the cure of Bronchitis, severe Coughs, and the early stages of Consumption. 612

CON# UBIA LI TIJBS.

Apostle Pratt declares thai*Polyga my is irrevocsble—that ha

will never

desert ths Mrs. Pratts. Life is a desert mairobge and mirage are t^e same thing only.

Why does a widow feel her bereavement less when she wears corsets Because then she's solaced.

A young lady has been found who, instead or having a pupil in her eye, has handsome young schoolmaster.

A western woman in advertisin ber runaway husband, says: "Davi has a scar on his nose where I scratched It."

You have only yourself to please," said a married man to an old bachelor. "True," replied he "but you don't know what a difficult task I find it

An old bachelor, at a wedding feast, hsd the heartlessness to offer the following toast: "Marriage—The gate through which the happy lover leaves his enchanted regions and returns to earth." ""George, dear," said a lady, just before the marriage ceremony, "I have several chaps on my hands *what shall I do!" "Show 'em to me, and I'll kick 'em out doors." "Oh, you bear!"

A gentleman whose daughter bad married a man by the name of Price, was congratulated by one of his friends who remarked: "I am glad to see you have got a price for your daughter."

Speaking of the sad affliction of a citizen of Indianapolis who had recently lost his wife, a local editor says, "The broken-hearted man erected a pine slab over his wire's grave, and presented a $400 piano to the young lady who was so kind to him innis hours of affliction."

A toll-gale keeper in Virginia was lately brought before a magistrate for cruelty to bis daughter, occas.oned byher allowing ber lover to drive through the gate free, when she had charge of it. Like one of Shakspeare's heroines,"She never 'tolled' her love."

A man with a shrewish wife declared he would move, to Mormondom and get an extra one. "I'll tear her eyes out!" exclaimed bis wife. "Ah," he replied, "but I'll make it a point to get one that will tear out yours." There has been peace in the family ever since.

A lover consulted a law carrying off an heiress. not carry her off," said the lawyer, "but she can carry you off. Let her mount a horse and*bold the bridle and whip, then you get up behind you, and then you'll be safe." The next morning the lawyer found that his daughter had run away with the said young man in the aforesaid manner.

wver about "Vou must

A sentimental young lady lost a poodle on which she set great value, and which she fed with ber own hands. Not long after the poodle had departed this transitory life, Fridelina was seen to contemplate with great pensiveness the countenance of a bewiskered and beringleted young man. "Fridelina, my dear." said ber maiden aunt, a very proper old lady, "don't look so at young Frizly he will think you are in love with him." "I can't help it, aunt SO'

pbia," replied Fridelina, with tears in her lovely eyes, "his expression is so like that of my poor little Moppet's."

A novel suit for breach of contract is pending in one of the Vermont courts. The plaintiff, a lady, owned a farm which the defendant, a man, wanted to purchased. She offered the property and herself for 20,000, and refused to sell separately. He accepted the terms, paid the money, obtained the title deeds of the land, and was so well satisfied with his bargain that be insisted on her keeping the rest of the bargain herself. She did not appreciate his magnanimity, and insisted on his marrying ber. He declined, and now she has sued blm for a breach of contract.

An engineer on the Erie Railway, living at Hornellsville, N. Y., about three years since ran his engine through a misplaced switch, down a band and lost bis arm thereby. A few days since, his wife, on returning homo from a visit found in her husband's bed room a set of curls in no wise matching her hair. They had a little matinee about the matter, which the railroad "boys" bearing about it, saw fit to mention it to him, when he said "Can't you give a feller a rest when misplaced switches promised to be the death of him

HOW A DISCOVERY WAS MADE, More novelties are the result of accident thaH is generally supposed. The origin of blue tinted paper came about by a mere slip of the hand. William East, an English paper maker once upon a time set his men to work and went away, on business. While the men were at dinner Mrs. E»st accidentally lot a blue bag fall Into one of the vats of pulp. Alarmed at the occurrence, she determined to say nothing about it. Great was the astonishment of the workmen when they saw the peculiar color of the paper, and great the anger of Mr. East when he returned and found that a whole vat of pulp had been spoiled. After giving the paper made from it warehouse room for four years, Mr. East sent it up to his agent in London "for wh.it it would fetch." "For what it will fetch!" said the agent, misunderstanding the meaning "well it is certainly is a novelty, but he must not expect too mncb." So he sold the whole at an advance upon the market price, and wrote to the mills for as much more as be oould get. The sur-

B[e

rise of Mr. East tnay be imagined, hastened to his wife, who found courage to confess ber share in the fortunate accident, and to claim a reward, which she rooehred in ths shape of a new cioak. Mr. East kept his secret for a short time, supplied the market with the novel tint, and other makers discovering the means used, competed with him.

DREARY HOMES.

Of all the dreary places, dellW»r WS from the dreary farm bouses which so many people call "home." Bars for a front gate chickens wallowing before the door pig pens elbowing the house in the rear scraggy trees never cared for, or no trees at all no flowering sherbs, no neatness no trimness. And yet a lawn, and trees, a neat walk, and a pleasant porch, ands plain fence around, all do not cost great deal. They tnn be secured little by little, at odd times, and the expense hardly be felt. And if ever the time comes when it is best to sell the term, fifty dollars so invested will often bring back five hundred. For a man is a brute who will not insensibly yield to a higher price for such farm when he thinks of the pleasant surroundings It offers his wife snd children.

THE LITTLE PEOPLE.

There was little gitf I knew, Who often disobeyed, And whettner motner said "To

•k,'

She almost always played, When she was told to goone way, She'd surelrgo the other If asked her sister to amuse

She'd entertain her brother.

Or when mamma said "Come, do this, She'd cry, "Can 11 do that And when upon an errand sent,

She'd play with dog or cat. Instead of doing what she should, She did Just what she shouldn't And if her mother wished she woula,

She always said she couldn't. Susie," said a teacher to one of her? pupils, "you shouldn't make faces. YOU will grow up homely if you make^ faces." Susie looked thoughtfully inr the teacher's face a moment and then 'innocently asked, "Did you make faces, when you was a little girl

Little three year old Harry went with his pa to the barber shop, and when he returned home he said: "Oh, ma, the man put something white on papa's face, and den just scraped and scraped, and it scared little Harry, and I quled, cause I fought it was a fault's face ?'V

When women get their 'rights,' per-1 haps my grandma will be elected president," said atA affectionate little

fikely,"

grandchild to ber uncle. "Ah, very responded the uncle, "and it won't be the first time an old grannyhas been elected to that office, either."

A schoolmistress, while taking down the names of her pupils and the names of their parents at the beginning of tbe: term, asked one little fellow, "What is your father's name "Oh, you need not take down his name, he's too old! to go to school to a woman," was the reply.

Now, children," said a Sunday-1 school gentleman visitor, who had been talking to the scholars about "good" people and "bud" people—"now children, when I am walking in the street, I speak to some persons I meet, and I don't speak to others and what's the reason?" He expected the reply would be, "Because some are good and others are bad but, to his discomfiture, the general shout was, "Because some are rich and others are poor!"

A clergyman passed a boy weeping ?rly, halted and asked "What Is bitt-: the matter, my boy replied: "Before, we had hardly enough to eat of anything, and now what shall we do, for there's another: one come?" "Hush thy mourning, aud wipe off those tears," said the clergyman, "and remember that He never sends mouths without He sells victuals to put into them." "1 know that," said the boy, "but then he sends all the mouths to our house, and the victuals to vours."

ITEMS ABOUT WOMEN.

A woman's manners indicate her )ste, temper and feeling, us well as the society to which she has been ac-' customed.

Two married Quakeresses have lately been elected school trustees in one of the Chester county (Pennsylvania) dlstrlcts.

Edmonia Lewis, the American sculpturess of African descent, at Koine, is making her fortune on Lho orders ro- I ceived from English lovers of art.

Few ladles consider that they carry some forty or fifty miles of hair oil their head the fair haired may even have to dress seventy miles of gold every morning.

A western girl, Bpeaklng from experlence, says "a kiss in time saves nine for she avers in every case when sho refused a mhn a chaste salnte he bus taken in el armis at least twenty.

Julia Klark—ns the name, according to the Latin orthography, would bo spelled—of Youngstown, O.. a wealthy "sweet sixteen" year old, has eloped with a professional burglar whose high sounding appellation of Fltz Clarence de Montmorency seduced her from her doting daddy's domicil.

Twenty girls belonging to the Syracuse high school not long ago took by storm the court of sessions, which wus then sitting in the city, and spent an afternoon there, greatly to the edification of themselves and the barristers.

The crack compositor of South Bend, is one Mrs. Augusta A. Miller. She learned to set type in her father's office at the tender ago of l.'l, and not long ago a proof of hers of 9,000 oms had but two typographical errors.

A lady, who loved Bulwer, entered a book store just as one of the clerks had killed a largo rat. "1 wish to seo •What will lie Do with It?"'said sho to a boy behind the counter. "Well," said tho boy, "If you will step to the window you will probably see him sling it into the back lot."

Hour English magazines aro edited bj' women. Belgravla, by Miss Uraddon St. James, by Mrs-. Klddlo English Woman's Domestic Mcgnzine, by Mrs. Beeton and the Argosy, by Mrs. Henry Wood. Miss Frances Power Cobbo la tho only woman Journalist of much distinction In London.

A French fashion is being observed in New Y^ik—that of sending to a lady on her birth-day a largo cake ornamented with candles, each candle representing a year of her life. This is sot on a table and the candles lighted, and a piece presented to the friends who are present.

An enticing Mississippi damsel is doscribed by a correspondent of the Chicago Journal. She is the daughter of a well to-do Methodist planter, and is in the habit of staying in bed until noon, smoking her pipe. She consumes from I $50 to $100 worth of tobacco a year.

She is also addicted to opium, likewise to morphlno, and moreover to chloroform, when she can get them throsgh tbe agency of tbe negroes.

A lay woman In Providenco, a mill!ner by trade, but nevertheless a favorite exborter at the evening meetings of the elect, thus gavo bftr reasons for belief in the existence of a Supreme Tieing. "Sister*, I am Just as confident that there is a God as I am that there are bonnets in Paris and that I know for certain, as I yesterday received from there a choico assortment of the most fashionable styles, which I will trim with more taste and sell lower than any milliner in the city."

The modesty of some of the Pittsburgh ladies of uncertain age is fearful I to behold. Tbe Leader says one of tho inrgest and most fashionable dry goods dealers waa remonstrated with by some ladies tbe other day, on what, they wero pleased to call tbe unchaste pattern of

Dollv Varden displayed in one of his show windows. The objectionable feature was nothing more than a party of dear little naked Cupids courting around sundry beautiful bouquets, and and looking as jolly and as innocent as could he imagined. 'Twas shocking I so it was!"