Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 3, Number 52, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 28 June 1873 — Page 6

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lit!

(Original.] fit LIFE- WORK.

With fearful step* I walk the p*tb,

xff pSiSJSS&'HS MV, I dare not Idly traad. The twit a Master'* will hath given,

I Uke with trembling hand» My feeble strength I dare not trust, To work where God bath planned.

Oh Father! since we may not ask, Or seek. Thy ways to know. May we In all the storm* of life.

Behold the "Promise-bow." '$

Teach oar poor eye®, now dimmed with tear*, To trace the clouds erhead, A«aredThy lore will never give,

A path too dark to tread. L. 8.

•f: "[From the Gafaxjr—July.]

A Self-Accusation.

I have frittered away the happiness of my life. Why did I marry her? I have often made this mental query I did so in the very days which directly followed our hooey moon. Still I loved her, as I love her still. The fact is, I should never have married at all.

She is a most peculiar character. did not understand her In her girlhood, and, I fear, I do not understand her yet. Ideas are fermenting within her. of which I can form no conception and now and then her eyes reflect strange, incomprehensible emotions, which soon again disappear to her inner self, just like prisoners who at limes peep forth from their bars into tho outer world •and then retire again to the conceal ment of their cells. She is my wife, and I hold her as few other men would. She bears my name, sits by my side when I drive out, or takes my arm when I promenade but I know perfectly that she loved one no longer belongs to me, that she is but the shadow of the blithe Pauline whom I won in the bloom of her rosy youth.

She had been an unloved child. Henoe, from her Infancy, she had striven for independence, and at nineteen her object was gained. At that age she was already earning a livelihood by writing lor different publications. That was for her a period of struggling and suffering, which taught her lessons that are seldom learned until the hair is already silvered, which imposed harden upon her that should by right be borne only by age and manhood. But she knew BOW to preserve her youthful freshness of mind and body, uhe conquered all hardships, and was when 1 first met her an admired and courted authoress. But now, existing in happy independence and easy circuinstaces, she failed to protit by the lessons taught her by bitter experience. Khe remained a woman—whose reason is impulse, whose principle is inclination, whoso whole being is one breath of love.

She was not beautiful, hardly even pretty, but there was a something—I don't know what—in her enchanting face, in the unaflected effervescence ol her ways, that bewitched everybody. For her sake, old men as well as young ones became guilty of the most egregious follies. She did not trust them, her experience protected her from that but perhaps she amused herself with them till she tired of them, or until new whims engaged her fancy.

It was in the country that I learned to know her. Although distantly related, we had never met. So fate brought mo during a summer vacation to my aunt, who was living in a small, plcturosqne village on the Patapsco. Had I been cognizant of Pauline's proeenoo, I should not have gone thither. I entertained a sort of aversion for tho woman. What I had heard of her in the city was not calculated to raise her very high in the estimation of a staid, digniiiod limb of the law, like myself.

My aunt received me warmly, but her first words after the greeting, the announcement that Pauline had come a weok before, and would in all likelihood stay aoine time longer, threw a chill upon me. I oould not altogether conoeal my displeasure, My sunt observed It. •Come, come, George,' she sald.'do not condemn hor bofore you know her this you will have ample opportunity to do in the time you remain here.'

Paulino was not in tho cottage. After examining my room, disposing of my luggage, and arranging my dress I strolled into tho woods to seek my favorite haunts. Nearlng ft lovely, teeluded spot, close by tuo bank of the stream which I was wont to frequent on former visits to my aunt, I was suddenly arrested in my progress by the menacing growls of a dog. Peering through the bushes, I saw a girl sitting upon a mossy knoll beneath a shady holly at hor feet lay a large Newfoundlander, who had raised his head and was showing mo his teeth In a threatening manner.

The girl tornod and beheld me, still half hidden by tho shrubbery, staring in astonishment at her and the dog. She burst Into a mnrry laugh.

Conscious that I presented a rather ludicrous picture, I advanced aud said coldly:

Are you Paulino

So I am called."

Then, perhaps, I may be so bold as to call you cousin, for I mi Ah Cousin George ... .1 Hh

am George We have been

W*hcn did you ar-

expoctlng you. rive?' 'Just now.'

She made room for me by her side. We conversed about our relatives. When she spoke I was all oar. At times I gasea curiously upon her, and wondered whether this was the Pauline of whom I had heard so many odd things. She was scarcely twenty-one. Her dress, made of some pearl-gray material, hung in sett, graceful folds about her iimbs. A bow of blue silk ronfln(Hl tho noftt linen collar, And gypsy hat4 lying at her side, was trimmod in tho color. A pair of small earrings with sapphire sets, a watch-chain that looked like a thread of gold, and a tiny diamond ring, constituted the jewelry she wore. She was of medium height, her figure neither plump nor sleuder, but symmetrical and pliant, lending an ineffable grace to all her movements. Iler silky brown hair was carelessly fastened behind, leaving the brow free and unshadowed. Her complexion was fair and purs, her mouth rather large, -hut sweetly expressive, and her smile frank aud in* describably fascinating. Her eves were a soft, dark gray, that eompefled one to look into them, and become confused within their depths. In truthher eyes were her only decided personal attraction there was an irresistible potoncv in them, and, unconsciously I think, she was making constant use of it. Had »be been a Carmelite, she would nevertheless have spoken with them she con Id not bare helped herself. When these oyes sparkled with smiles, every one was bewitched, reason was overthrown and they were nearly always smiling.

When I had known Tier but fire minutes, I already felt this—in the moment h€D my glance met hers, which was

rRRRE-HAUTB 8

riveted so pfOQltaTfr mp*n jnt. She hsd oeased to fpeak, ana w*a sitting With half open 11 pssnd glowing cheeks, study lag my face latently, when ©ur ey«s electrically met. I MW bar color deepen and spread to the root# of her hair, while a strange shiver vibrated through me. It waa dangerous watch this flashing, but I aid It, was seized by an intense desire know ita causa.

and to

a a

Fldo! fetch nv bat,' she suddenly said to the dog. 'It is time to get onr supper. Are you hungry, Cousin George?'

Yes—no 1* I answered confusedly for my thoughts were still lingering about that reddening of her face.

She laughed good-naturedly, ana took the hat from the doc. How good you are to that hnge animal!' I said, as we/oee.

Good! he is my idol be la the only one who has at all times proven trfteto me, snd the only one-—-

She suddenly checked herself. Stooping. perhsps to hide embarrassment, she kissed the white spot on ldos forehead. But I completed the sentence with:

To whom you have been true. So they say,' she returned, l%ughing. •But look into his beautiful eyes, and tell me whether you could help being good to him. Oh, If I did not possess you. my good Fido!' She stroked his bead, while be wagged his tail snd gazed at her with his large, faithful eyes.

You will hardly be able to keep pace with us. When I go through the woods with the dog, I generally grant him the felicity of a race with me!' And, without waiting for a reply, she bounded over the sod, the dog in pursuit bsiking Jubilantly.

I met her again at tea. Some time afterwards she told me that she retired that evening two hours later than was her custom.

I had already reached those years in which grsy hairs begin to appear here and there with dark-naired people. I, too, had once dreamed fondly of love snd friendship, but never known in reality what it was to love truly, or be truly loved by a woman. As often as I essayed to give my visions an em bodiment and a name, I was never able to find, among the many girls of my acquaintance. one who fairly resem bled my ideal. The woman whom imagination had formed was a mil lovely, madonna-like beinv, with form and features of classical outline, a refined pallor In her cheeks, sweet coral lips, tender blue eyes, golden blond hair, and a voice like soft, low music.

Pauline was by no means tho duplicate of this imsge. But when she darted, singing, through the house, letting doors and windows remsin open, I frequently laid down my book or pen, gazed after her, and felt as if the bright sunlight bad fallen into my heart. In all her actions, unrestricted as they were by conventional sobriety, there lay a grace and charm that pleased, naf, enchanted me.

We soon became good friends—something like brother and sister, I thought. How this sentiment developed into love, I cannot satisfactorily explain. One day, as I was taking a ramble, I camo upon her unexpectedly she was walking slowly along, with eyes cast down, and looking more grave than I had ever seen her before. When she saw mo, her face suddenly became transfigured with radiance, but she quickly tripped by. This glowing of her face ana the respondent throbs of ray heart revealed to me what we were to each other.

It was late when I reached the cottage. It was one of those serene, warm, moonlight evenings which exercise such a soft, magical influence over us. Pauline was sitting in the garden arbor, the dog at her side. I seated myself so as to obtain a full view of her countenauoe, which was illumined by the moonbeams. Its expression made me ask, anxiously:

Pauline, are you ill •No.' A pause. 'I am going away to-morrow.'

Whither?' Home—to the city But what ails you, cousin? You 'But why must you go?' I interrupted her hurriedly.

Why? for a number of reasons. In the first place, I had intended remaining only three weeks, and lot I have been here nearly six. Secondly, I have business matters on hand, which I must not postpone. Finslly, my friends demand my return, and should I not come, they would say—that you were the magnet that fetters me here. Is it not nice that my friends miss me Oh, the consciousness of being missed is truly a delicious sensation !r 'Then—then you wish to return to your old mode of life, and in the course of time, perhaps—to marry?'

I would advise no man, all the same whether old or young—In case he considers it wise and prudent not to marry —to permit himself to be alone with the woman he loves, in a secluded pot, on a mellow, moonlight night. he fingers will touch each other, even though with the best of purposes snd mental reservations. Pauline's hand rested in mine, and the touch of her warm, velvety little fingers quickly scattered my wisdom and self-posses-sion. I, who had firmly resolved Dover to enter the matrimonial noose— I said to her, in a voice so soft aad tender that both of us trembled at its tone:

We have been so happ/ together here!' Very happy 1' she whispered, quivering.

I held both of her hands tightly she avoided looking at me, but did not turn away her darling little face. I continued:

Betwixt yon and me there is a considerable disparity in age, and I am by nature much more seriously constituted thsn you. Excepting you, I have never loved a woman, while you have conquered—Heaven knows how many hearts. You are not what the world says of you you have a heart that can love and be true. Therefore I pray you, tell mo frankly and faithfully whether you can love me—or do love me. lam not accustomed to addressing such questions, and do not know, perhaps, how to express myself conformably to the requirements of an occasion like this but believe me when I say that yon have won my heart, and that I do sot think I could be happy without you.' -v

believe ysu.' .T Bat will you trust me, too, and lore me?'

love you and trust you,' she answered frankly. 'Are you not ed that I tell you this so quietly is because I shall never tuarry yon, I am capricious and presuming, and would soon make you weary of lite with my constant demand for attention. I waa born to be treated like a spoiled lsp-dog you are, although capable of loving, nevertheless not an affectionate man. We should not bare passed two months In wedlock before you'd wished me in Cayenne, or some other torrid locality. Bat as that would not be practicable, therefore yon would break my heart—not rudely and harshly, oh no!— undemonstrauveljr

She looked at me, and ber whole soul waa la the glance it spoke love, passion, and yearning tenderness. Oh, what strange feelings, never hitherto experienced, thla glance awakened within me I The next moment I held ber in my arms, and exolalmed:

Pauline, if ever man loved woman with all his hesrt and soul, unreasonably, madly. and yet so truly and honestly, His I.'

But will that laat, George I bent down, and our kisses breathed all the delirious fervor of a first, true love.

You must be my wlfte, Pauline 1' I cried. Her head drooped upon my shoulder, snd ber hand sought and olasped mine.

Is this your answer May I call thla hand mine?

If you wiah, Georgia!' Oh I thia 'Georgie.' which foil for the first time from her lips, how Infinitely blessed It msde mo I From that time she always called me so. But when she oeased to love this sound also died, snd since then she again calls me George.

Shortly afterwards we wOre' »i»Srrled. Our honeymoon continued for six months, sad, I believe, would have lasted forever had I not been so foolishly overwlse. Now I sigh In vain for a return of that time.

Pauline had been called fickle, flighty. How fallacious was thla ides! A truer heart could not have existed. 'I only needed a master, Georgie,' she used to say to me, when I talked and laughed over this matter. 'During my maidenhood I was constsntly on the leekout for him—could, not find him, however, snd came to the conclusion finslly that I should never meet him. But when I beard you for the first time, and need into your eyes, then I knew that I had found this master at last. And how gladly I carry the chains of my master !r

She ssid this.in full seriousness. Best of all, she was pleased when I coaxed snd played with her as with a child. She was not sn angel she was a passionate, high-souled woman. She rebelled a hundred times during the day, snd yet she loved my dominion. She became alluringly attractive whenever, with fire-flashing eyes, she rushed to the door, threatening to leave tho room, yet instantly stood still, with head lowered, when I called to her: "Stop! shut the door I have something to say to you. But this was dangerous, for it made apparent the power I had over her. I, who had never been loved before, could hardly help becoming a tyrant when I saw such a noble being bend to me.

She loved me. Every chord of her delicately-strung heart vibrated at my merest touch nevertheless I was not satisfied. I undertook to modify the tones her doting homage itself was the instrument. True—now I see all clearly—this instrument was a sword, with which I cruelly wounded her. A very sage idea entered my head, and whispered to me that I was making a child of Pauline with my indulgence, and that with so much warm sunlight her full womanly power would never be developed. I acted according to this idea, altogether overlooking the fact that her mental and moral force had already been entirely unfolded and matured, and that, too, at a time when others just Degin to be aware that there are rocks and storms, shoals and quicksands, in the ocean of life. I also forgot that, in spite of her youthful gayety and exuberance of spirits, the lessons of a long, bitter, gloomy past would never be lost upon her their impress was merely hidden from my eyes beneath a blithe exterior.

She had for a while completely exorcised my legal solemnity now 1 determined to return to my whilom state, and not to be cozened away again so easily. I delved i& my papers for hours, without speaking a word. She did not complain. So long as she was assured of my love, she was content and likewise worked on more diligently. Her writing-desk stood just opposite mine. At times I paused, to observe her indefatigably dancing pen but then she was sure to look up, while a happy smile played around her lips. One day, aa she raised her eyes to mine, I happened to be in a very unreasonable frame of mind her rallying lovelook almost irritated me, and I Bald shortly:

You annoy me when you look at me In that manner.' Glad to get an opportunity to chat with me, she dropped her pen, came to my side, and bent over me. 'Why, my dear? The glance was for him I love.'

That was a poor beginning for the precepts I wanted to enforce. I collected myaelfand began to study my papers profoundly.

Aui I irksome to you?' she asked, the lpast bit sensitively. Not exactly.'

Her soft hand toyed with my locks and her warm breath caressed my cheek. I felt that my wisdom was rapidly expiring. Again I collected myself anaassumed an air of coldness. •One kiss, only one, and I will go!' she begged.

Nonsense, Pauline! I have no time for kissing.' She gazed into my face and asked:

Do I vex you?'

Exceedingly.' A sigh scarcely audible escaped her lips, and she left tho room.

For thla morning at least I had destroyed her cheerfulness. It was the first cloud In our matrimonial sky.

Years have passed, and I become constantly less capable of comprehending how I could have so persistently undermined the foundation of my peace and happiness, instead of building thereon a lite'a contentment, The next six months were a period of misery to me, and without doubt also for Pauline for she became pale and thin and lost all her spirits. My plan had succeeded excellently well she had learned to doubt my affection for her. This wta revealed to me occasionally by ber stealthy, wistful glances, and the manner in which she began to occupy herself with Fldo—as if she now relied alone npon his love and fkithftilness.

Bat I was too proud to admit m~ wrong, even to myself, and daily ied began to grow sickly old and feeble. She

dened the breach. Then the dog

bad grown

abandoned ber work and devoted the time taken from ber labors to the dumb brute. When life was extinct, she bent over him, burst into tears, kissed the white spot on bis forehead, and then closed his eyes which, even in death, seemed to regard her with affection.

Great aa waa her grief, she eought no condolence from me. She provided for the burial of Fido, who was interred by the gardener close under the window of oar study. She would frequently tarry by the little mound, at which times gloomy reflections seemed to agitata her soul. Now still, while sitting at her deak, the often gases pensively toward the quiet spot. She la true to him beyond the grave, because—he had remained true to ber.

The year awjpktoouUy began was

r-^

'J* 3 S&i&A

4What

VENINO MAila JUKE 2M. i873.

approaching ita end, when one morning I was amazed to hear Pauline ajnging merrily it was the first time since Fldo's death. Soon thereafter I beard her coming toward my room, and I at once affected profound preoccupation.

It waa a warm, beautiful morning, and her entranoe seemed to usher in a happy sunlight. Her faoo, too, beamed with that aerenity which It had In her srlrlhood.

is it?' I aaked, looking np

from my work. laced a lovely little noaegay of violeta, tied with a blue ribbon, before

She pi

mo, and Bald:

4Soe,

And now she stooped over me. plsced her band lightly upon my shoulder, and kissed me. It was the first exhibition of fondness she had voluntarily tendered me these many days. I contemplated her in surprise and aald:

You appear to be in an unusually happy huuior to-day, Paulino.'

It is somebody's birthday to-day,' she rejoined, as she sst upon my knee snd gazed into my eyes. 'May Heaven grant this some one many happy returns of the day, and—aad—' she paused for a moment, then continued in a voice whose quivering was not easily concealed—'If, during the past six months all has not -been between us as it should have been, then let us forget it all from this day forth.'

Silently she encircled me with her arms and sunk her head upon my bosom. How would It have been possible to remain insensible thereat Kissing her silken hair, I said that I would gladly forget all (as if I had anything to forget but my own culpability!) whereupon she raised her eyesf smiling blissfully, and thought, in sober truth, that I was very magnanimous to hor.

Now, Georgie, we will begin anew to-day •As you wish, my child.' And at once she proceeded, in her old way, to dally with me.

Shall I moot with credence when I say that hardly had my wife been gone five minutes, before I began to fancy that I had let her see too freely the influence she possessed over me? For months I had practised the art of appearing tranquil and indifferent, yet the first smilo or kiss had proven sufficient to overpower me. She had harassed me insufferably the l8st six months—as I put it to myself therefore to grant her at once a full pardon seemed to me at least a matter for consideration. So, when she returned, she found me absorbed in my documents.

One moment, if you please!' she cried, taking the pen from my band and holding it above my bead. 'I have a present for you—will you have it."

Why, certainly, if you will give it to me.' Then beg for it.'

I said nothing, and seized another pen. That diconcerted her. Don't you—want it?' she asked timiNv«

There was once a saint, named Francis de Sales,' I began to sermonize'who was wont to say that one should never ask for nor refuse anything.'

You are no saint, and it was I that spoke to vou. Will you not accept my little gift? Say yes—If it be only to please me—to Inake me still happier on this day than I already am.'

Don't be so childish, Pauline It is childish, I know it but do me this favor, Georgie. It is so little that I ask, and yet it would make me so very happy 1' •I shall never decline what you offer mo. But be good enough not to disturb me any longer.'

Scarcely had these words escaped my lips when the present—an exquisitely ornamented bronze inkstand, in the shape of a Cupid—lay at my feet. Pauline turned away, exasperated and hurt. I picked up'the pieces. •How, you stoop to get him?' sho asked sarcastically. •Upon my word, you are the most unreasonable creature in the world!' I exclaimed. 'Fortunately the little lovegod may oe mended.'

Yes, but wounds will leave scars. Oh, Georgie!' sho continued reproachfully, casting herself down before my

Georgie, these are

the first violets of our garden. I have something else in petto, but of that hereafter.'

chair'why do you tempt me thus you really, truly love me 'Pauline!' I said impatiently, stand up this is getting tiresome.'

'do

lly pallor man-

She dfdlso, but a death tied ber face. I will go yet one question before. Do you love me, Georgie

I was a little fretful and very headstrong, that was all. Did she mean to threaten me

Did you love me when we first exchanged vows of affection she demanded anew.

Of course. But But you love me no longer Well, since you will have it so'Speak! only speak!' 'I don't love you—exactly—in the way you mean.'

An ominous sllenc® followed. She became so white, gazed at me with so strange, rigid a look, that I forgot my impatience and self-will, aud said anxiously

I don't mean it so seriously. Goodness, how pale you are! Why, I was only jesting.' •I can bear it, George. Ob, what cannot a woman boar—this way or that!'

She went, looking mournful it is true, but apparently tranquil. I dreamed not that I had killed hor love for me.

From that time Pauline ceased to be a child. But the sunlight, too, had departed from her. Silent and sedate, but rarely mild and smiling, she carefully superintended her affairs she disturbed me no more. But she grew paler and weaker, so that the doctor earnestly counselled a trip to the salubrious South. My business affairs did not allow of my traveling, but near acquaintances were just about making a journey to Florida and Cuba. My wife joined tho party.

Instead of five, "he remained away eight months. The letters she wrote to me lacked not In interest but oh! not word of breathing affection,everything cold and icy. Vainly I sought for a syllable that indicated love, or even ber former aprightllness. Now I suffered the tortures which 1 bad prepared for her, and how agonising they were!

At last she came back. One evening I received a telegram from Hampton Roads, where the steamer bad made a stop, in which Panllne informed me that she would arrive at home the following day. How feverishly I was excited by the tidings! Our estrangement had lacerated my heart so terribly, and 1 saw now how deeply I had wronged her, that I fervently longed to win back ber lore at any price.

I went to receive her. I approached ber and embraced her. She returned it all, but there was no life, no love, In tbe greeting. It was all mere form.

Holding ber at some distance from me, I scrutinised ber closely and inquired: 'Pauline, are yon not well?' Her eye met mine openly, but I missed the old, tender sparkle.

she replied,

rather Imflfffereritly, It' la long aince I hare seen you tbat you appear to roe somewhat altered.'

As she bad gone so she flame again, so she remained. Tbe frolicsome fairy of my household bad fled, leaving me only tbe dull, expressionleis tore* ptntaiM, snd the mournfal oonaoioneness that

should

never

gase. into ber

sweet young face again. Thia was another Pauline. Mine

sweet

had tortnred to

death, and naught would avail to resuscitate her. On the way home

felt as if in a

dream, and even there I did not awake. Shortly after our arrival I led her through tbe house and pointed out the improvements. Tbe furniture, tapestries, and ornaments sll met with her approbation, and she appeared almost delighted with her handsome new 'escritoire. She thanked me. But eighteen montha before she would have bounded and danced through the houae, and given vent to a thousand different ejaculation^ of surprise and pleaaure.

For weeks I endured this wretched, dead existence. One morning, ss I vainly strove to become interested in tbe ne#spsper, I felt more than ever the full extent of my wrong, my joylessness, and my isolation. I rose resolved, and went to her.

Are you busy I inquired, as she ceased writing and turned ber head.

Not too busy to speak with you,' she returned. Pauline, how long shall we continue this moide of life 'What mode of life, George?' she asked, changing color.

The life wo are living. It is not the unshadowed, hsppy life of yore. You do not belong to me as you once belonged to me.'

I know that.' She sighed and looked at me so aadly. •Why should the old days not return again? If I have made a terrible blunder, Is it.then impossible for you to forget it I thought it was foolish to love one another so—at least to show it but I have discovered now that love ia the only true wisdom on earth.'

She smiled in a melancholy way. Give me back tbat lbve which once I repelled. Give me back tbe sunlight to my world.'

I arose and advanced toward her she. however, pushed back her chair and shook her nead.

George, do not demand that of me.' I will know how to value your love now, Pauline.'

That may be but, my poor George, I have none to give.' I clasped her In my arms. The passion glowing in my heart seemed to me great enough to Inspire response even in a corpse. But Bhe romained untouched. Sue lay like a cold statue in my arms, and looked at me and said sighing:

Too late, George, too late.' Shall you then never forgive me •Forgive you? You do not believe that I entertain the least unfriendly thought toward you By no means but I have grown oold through and through. My love Is dead and buried. The best we can do now is to resign ourselves to our fate and bear with this life as well as we can."

I hid my face in my bands and—I am not ashamed to confess it—wept. My tears seemed to arouse in ber suddenly a kind of frenzv. •What!' she burst forth, almost shrieking, *you can weep—you who sowed the seed which is now bearing its bitter fruit? Ah! yes, yes, it is you who are weeping now!' she seemed suddenly exhausted, and grower calmer, after a while continued:

4Do

not

weep, George take what I can pivo you—my friendship—and, so God wills, we will remain united here and beyond."

Will you then love me in the life to come?' 'Que ferait nne ame isolee dans le clel meme? What would a lone soul do in heaven Itself? Plainly, George, love alone is life in heaven and on earth!'

God knows, dearest Pauline, that I loved you truly on the day we plighted our troth, and loved you as truly on that ill-starred day when your heart became chilled, and that I lovo you now with tho same devotion, but more wisely.'

It gives me a real pleasure to hoar this*!' she cried with animation. 'Heav-

en alone knows, George, how I suffer ed at first, day and rilght. I thought then actually that I would have to yield up my life. I believe evory one thinks the same wheu struck by some foarful blow. But the strength to endure my existence came with time, and afterward also came calm and peace. George believe mo that even though I may not be able to give ybu love, I shall never thelese feel a felicity in being about you and to live with you until death doth us part.

I opened my arms, and now of her free will she fell upon my heart and placed her arms about my neck. Our lips met—not as tbey did once, yet tenderly.

We are older, more sensible than we were, George, though sadder too,' she said smiling. 'Bat who knows! It is yet possible that tho old love may not be altogether extinct.' This kindled a momentary spark of hope within my breast: but alas! no fuel haa been offered since to keep it living.

Thus endeth this chapter of our lives. Since thst day we have never touched upon this subject. Yesrs have passed and I have waited patiently for the return of Pauline's love, but I can never see aught shining in her eye but the same clear calm. My hesrt yet thrills as of yore when I hear her speak or sing. An angel could hardly be gentler or kinder than she, who waa once so impulsive and fiery. She was unreasoning, passionate, and exacting in thoae days, and my phlegmatic nature wa* sorely exercised to keep pace with her. I know tbat all well—but oh! what a winsome, fond, bewitching creature she waa!

Whosoever tboa mayst be that readest this, remember in time that a kind word and a tender glance cost bat little, yet can accomplish macb, and that no wrong Is greater than that which is committed against a loving heart.

A BAD SRi-t-.—Here is acurioua story of the old slavery times, which we pick up from a Western Carolina newspaper. In the gold mining regions of Burke county, lived an industrious, well-to-do free colored woman, named Nancy Boyoe. She was engaged to marry Jack, a slave, and in order to have everything pleasant, abe put her hand in ber pocket and bought him of his master. Bat she was shrewd enough to take a bill of aale of him fortunately, as it happened, for Jack turned out to be utterly worthless, and a perfect sot. But little need was there for Nancy to go to the courts for relief by divorce. She knew a better way than tbat. She owned her man, and she simply sold him to a slave-dealer, who carried him off to the far Southwest, so that tbe sharp Nancy was never bothered by him sgaiei. Husbands have been badly sold before, though not in this particular way.

THE BARTENDER.

As you gaze at him, standing behind the marble oounter, with an array ofpglasses and lemons behind bito* hisfc hair parted directly in the middle, and^ a smile of self-complacencr edging bis* waxed moustache, you think him ast wonderful creature. "And so indeed be is. His clothes are of the nattiest de-^ scrlption, running In most instanoea toj^ flowered vests snd* red neckties. Upon'* his spotless shirt bosom rests a bngei coruscation of diamonds—or paste—y which radiates Its brilliancy in streams-, of colored light, creating the impresaIon, in tbe mind of a man who basfr' been too frequently to the bar, that itf is a red and blus pinwheel in full operation. As you come up to the counter, he takea you in with a quick, business gUnce, and then saya, "What shall it

You tell him what you would like it*^? to be, and with a lazy, but dexterous movement, be brings a thin glass from some mysterious quarter, and skims it along the polished bar. It stops direct-, ly in front of you. just as if actuated by intelligence. Then up cornea a bottle, not aa any ordinary mortal would handle it, but with a juggling jerk, and: a few scientific twists. If the drink is to be one requiring some combination of liauors—if it is to be constructed on the French flat system—the bartender ia in hia glory. In an Instant tho air is full of* lemons, bottles and glaases, which revolve about his diamond pin, as the planetado about tbe

Bun.

Noth

ing drops, however, and in the most rapid agitation of the tail of a lamb, the beverage is before you.

Such is the bartender as you find him' at a first class saloon. He is generally a well-informed man on the current news of the day, and can conduct a conversation admirably. It is his business to treat you as if you were a prince tbat is, as long as yon have any money. When be discovers that you are financially exhausted, he becomes as oool ss though an iceberg had drifted into the room. Not so to every one, however. There are those who have the run of the bar to whom some concessions are made. As ysu stand there one comes in. His hair has a feathery appearance, as if a whirlwind had struck it not long ago. His shirt front is rum-

Sent

led, his cravat is all askew. It is evifrom the generalappearance of the youth that he has been engaged in astronomical researches all nignt and has not been to bed. The astronomer comes up to the bar in a hurried, business way, leans over it, and places his mouth close to the bartender's ear. You don't catch exactly what he says, but it is something like "hang it up." Patiently you watch to see something hung up, but you never do. You see the man take a drink and then walk off without paying. When you get broke you try this scheme on yourself. Getting off from the bar you walk rapidly up. lean over, and say in a hoarso whisper, hang it up." Then he tells the small boy who is cracking ice at the end of the counter to bring that club. You wait no longer, but sadly fade away to tbe street, with yoar faith in human at re re at ha

POCKET EDITION OF HELL FIRE. A young parson of tho Unlversalist faith, many years sinco, when tho Si-mon-pure Unlversalism was preached, started westward to attend a convention of bis brethren in tho faith. Ho took the precaution to carry a vial of cayenne in his pocket to sprinklo his food wit i, as a preventive of fever and ague. The convention met, and at dinner a tall Hoosior observed tho parson as he seasoned his meat, and addressed him thus: "Strangar, I'll thank you for a littlo of that 'er^-ed salt, for I'm kind o' curious to try it." "Certainly." returned tho parson butyou will find It very poworful be careful how you use it."

The Hoosier took the proffered vial, and feeling himself proof against any quantity of raw whisky, thought he could stand the "red salt" with Impunity, and accordingly sprinkled a Junk, of beef rather bountifully with it, and forthwith introduced it into his capacious mouth. It soon bogan to tako hold. He shut his eyes, and his features began to writhe, denoting a very inharmonious condition physically. Finally he could stand it no longer. He opened his mouth and screamed "fire." "Tako a drink of cold water from tho jug," said tbe parson. "Will that put it out?" asked the martyr, suiting the action to tho word.

In a abort time tbe unfortunate man began to recover, and turning to the parson, his eyes yet swimming with water, exclaimed:

Stranger, you call yourself a 'Versa11st, I believe I do," mildly replied tho parson,

Well, I want to know if you think it consistent with your belief to go about with hell-fire in your breeches pockets?".

Centaur Lluiincnt.

There is no pain which tho Centaur Liniment will not relieve, no swelling it will not subdue, and no lameness which it will not cure. This Is strong language, but it is true. Where tho parts are not gono, its effccts are marvelous. It has produced moro cures of rheumatism, neuralgia, lock-jaw, palgy, sprains, swellings, caked-breasts, scalds, burns, salt-rheum, ear-ache, Ac., upon the human frame, and of strains, spavin, galls, Ac.t upon animals in one year than have all other pretended remedies since the world began. It is a counter-irritant, an all-healing pain reliever. Cripples throw away their crutches, the lame walk, poisonous bites are rendered harmless and tbe wounded are healed without a scar. It is no humbug. The recipe is publishedaround each bottle. It is selling as no article ever before sold, and it sells because it does just what it pretends to do. Those who now suffer from rheu* matism, pain or swelling deserve to suffer if they will not use Centaur Liniment. More than 1000 certificates of remarkable cures, including frozen limbs, chronic-rheumatism, gout, running tumors. Ac., have been received. We will send a circular containing certificates. tbe recipe, Ac., gratis

an?

one requesting it. One bottle of tbe yellow wrapper Centaur Lfhiment is worth one hundred dollars forspavined or sweenied horses and males, er for screw-worm in sheep. Stock-owners— this liniment is worth yoar attention. No family should be without Centaury Liniment. J. B.

ROSE A Co., New York.-

C'astorla Is more than a substituted, for Castor Oil. It is the only *nfe article In existence which is certain to assimilate the food, regulate the bowels, cure wind-colic ana produce natural? aleep. It contains neither minerals,! morphine or alcohol, and is pleasant U* taks. Children need not cry and moth-r era may rest.