Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 4, Number 7, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 16 August 1873 — Page 6

iiniMiiiisrMiiniiiiiimj- PJMi/UlR 'r -£C -5\sSS*51WR^SlB^MP^W» fbtn't jjltntf of tmnshine te II*"

Then Into oor lHr«* lei u«takelt Th$

Vorld,

tiHMi|h brtmlul of tbe glorlou*

rv,,, ^Rdarlr.'tf w* elwdw *to w«e *JWe m««« open oor buita. let U» «oa»Wn» "'^Knd SrSl np thetlsrk, dr»ary place*

With Miafchlne without, and#u»*Mil|»U»frtftMOwdutll we we gloomy face*.

We sboaM seek out the 1 Ives ttisi areokaulperchance ha* ne'er euAuil .&&!«» freely Xrom oor WlmmlnR mmtff MvmMiitaeM^ -peaec-long had-eeo Oh! ail'th^worJd over there% Hjrhr for o*

Tlutu into our lives let

T»®

IU tak-

wwfif,

tltotigh brlmfnl of the «Io»loos if we

.,m -f* mtU

,%f*.u wn:

Lostr

t'i mi

It was a chilly spring evening- *t the end of May tbe rain,, that all ilay had b«eti fitful, at dark settled Into an easterly storm, and while drcasing for tea I bad shivered at the prospect ot" spending the long evening in th'o matted parlor, with thonummor grate already in, and no cbafice for warmth or comfort lor after Aunt ilason had arranged her rooms for warm weather, warm it must be supposed to be ftot even a snow storm would have induced her to think of a fire.

Then too, nay husband had sent »ne

word

that businoss would detain him until late in tbe city.and I was a stranger to tbe whole household, having though married for several years.never Wore been among my husband's relatives so that the weather, the chilly evening, and his absence ail combined to make my spirits sink, as I thought to their lowdst depths.

The hot te.i was some small comfort but when wo adjourned to the parlor and one of tbe guests—for there was quite a party staying at Oakwood—be

San

to tune herharp, preparatory to in icting along twanging on our patient ears, my spirits went, if possible, still lower, and I begau seriously to wonder if I could not slip off unperceived to bed. As soon as the

first

The family bad never shown mo the house, and I was only familiar with the rooms that were common property, which, though handsome, were not in the least home-like, nor comfortable and when Cousin John, crossing the ontry, openod a door opposite the parlor and introduced me to his room, I was delighted at the view. It was rather ft *mall room, with two windows looklnti south, so that on a bright, sunshiny day (such as they never have in Now England in spring,) it must have bean the pleas*ntest in the house but what particularly struck me was the gay wood fire, and tbe bright colored rug In-front, so suggestive of warmth and com fort.

Noticing the glanco I cast around, Cousin John said Why Elly, have you never been iu here bof»re?' •No I have heard Harry speak of your room as being charming, but he never brought me here.'

Well, my oblld, having found your way hero now, I give you free leave to use the room whenever you want. There iaaiways A firo laid,nnd,1 pointing to a box In the oorner of the fireplace— •the only order I give In the bouse is that boic Is always to be kept full of wood, and a firo always ready for a match so yon must come and warm yourself at any time, tuy dear.'

He rolled an oasy chair close to the hearth, seated mo in it, gave me a screen to shield my face from the bla*e, then drew a chair opposite. Our conversation was of no moment to any one save ourselves but the kind interest he showed in tny lonely condition before I married, his evident liking for and affoctionaw inquiries about Harry, warmed IHV heart the more, that, tbouKh the family wereklnd and attentive, still there was the intangible veil —felt, but perhaps not seen by any looker «n—which prevented me entering the charmed 'family circles.'

Cousin John made me foel at home, and we talked long and pleasantly} but at last some remark I made on tny isolated condition (for I had no relatives), seemed to awaken some train of thought, for he did not answer, bat «*t looking abstractedly into the fir®. 1 took this opportunity to stody his face, and speculate on his age. and why he had, when quiet, the air of a man weighed down by ear*.

After a while, 1 rose and began to walk around the room, looking at the pictures. tbe books, and pretty things, of which It was full. I had nearly made the circuit, and reached Cousin John's side, when a table, standing In tbe corner and covered with pretty writing implements, attracted me. My attention was particularly drawn to a small trunk made of inlaid wood on the lid were, what I thought, Chinese chsino-

41era

vt.

in brass, and I took hold of It by the brass handle in tbe middle to look at them more closely, when to my consternation, tbe Ud suddenly flew up, and oat came the content*.

The trunk was fall or h*avy letter*, and there were two small handles at the bottom. exclamation of dismay made Cousin John Vara round, and I saw such an expression of amaiement on his face that! hastened to exculpate

m^?did

not open It, but merely took

hold of the handle to look more closely at the top, when these things fell out. 1 hope I have not done any dam-

speaking, I began to stoop and

?rankup

itok the letters,while betook np the and examined tbe lock. I must have forgotten to look It, my child you have done no harm,' he said at the same time taking tbe letters from my band. I noticed that tbe seals to all were unbroken, and some of them, tbe direction beln« uppermost, I saw were addrsssed to himself, in what I knew to be his own hand-writing. I looked curiously at them, and then up at him. lie was standing still, holding the smallest bundle In ito band, ana looking down at me.

Well,' las said, pleasantly, 'what were you thinking about tbe letters,

Arv-

tvt.

notes of the

lugubrious air became audible, I hoard John Mason—aunt's step-son, and the owner of Oak wood—whisper in my ears •Elly, undercover of the 'Spanish Retreat,' which will take some time, let us beat a retreat to my room. I have a nice wood fire there, and you look perfectly blue with cold, you chilly child. Wo can have a good talk while you are waiting for Harry's return. Coine, for I have hardly had a chance to become acquainted with you as yet,'

I bad risen at his first invitation, and he continued to speak while walking with me across the room, stopped for a moment in frontof a picture hanging hy the door, as if that were our object, and waiting before It until all eyes, which had been turned toward us, were attracted again to the harp performer, qulotly drew me Into the ontry.

that you gaged a| tbem ^0 earneftlyf EHy 7* 1 Only-wondering- why tbe* should III be directed to ya«i in wuf ll~ ing, and tbe seam unbroken, Ana they are so thick, that jbere lire not as

You sre curious about them, I aee. Yon are tbe only person besides myself who has ever seen the inside of the trunk, and you are also the only one to whom I have ever spoken about It. I never kept a diary, Elly, btft for mady years I have written myself a l«ter at the end qf tbe year, about the year's events. anu sealed it, and put it ibis trunk.'

...

But doyou never mean to rea4 them again, and is tJiat why the seals are unbrouen Have you never opened any?' I

asked,eagerly,andthought

bow

snould like to open them. No, I shall never break any of tbe seals what is pas had better be left In the past, and reading okl tetters, Elly, is very much like trying to galvanise worn-out friendship.'

I wish,' 1 began, tben Stopped for by this time I had picked up the laat letter, and was holding it in my hand.

What do you wish?' I winh I could read them at some time. 1 have always wanted to read a real person's diary, and this would be even more romantic than a diary.'

I was interested In those letters there was to ine something so jjeeuli'ir in this ibit of writing to himself, that the words came out before I thought how iinpertiuent tbe request must seem.

He looked thoughtfully at me a few moments before be answered I have ofton wondered, Elly, what I should do with them. I did not liko to think of burning them myself and, besides, there are some things In that trunk that I could not have destroyed, and I did not like to leave the box to my executors. Now my dear. I will leave to yon, with permission for you to read any two of the letters you choose, to open the others, and destroy them or not aa

you

may think b°Bt, but

to ke#p what they contain. Will you promise to do this, but never again allude to the trunk

I willingly promise: and, taking a sheet of paper, he wrote: ,V I glva this trunk, with its contents, to my dear cousin, Elly Mason, and it is to do examined by no one but her.

JOHN MASON, May 29th, 18—.

He gave the paper to me to read, and then placing It in the trunk, locked the latter, using a small gold key which was attached to his watch«chain. After be had replaced the trunk in its original place on the table. I noticed that he bad Felt out the smaller bundle, bat while debating whether to remind him of it or not, for his seriousness affected me strangely, he took it up, and again seated himself by the fire. I went quietly to my own chair, and for a few minutes we tried to resume our talk, but it was impossible we soon sank in to silence.

At length, the sound of voices in the entry, bidding 'good night,'startled both of us and rose to follow my cousins' example when Cousin John gently laid a detaining hand on my shoulder.

Elly, I nover sent you any wedding present—for I could not but now, my child, with my best love and wishes for your future happiness,I give you these, They are very dear to me, and at last an filly Mason will wear them. One favor, I beg, never let me see them,and God bless you, my dear.' He then lightly kissed my forehead, and quickly left the room.

I hastened to my chamber, there to wait my husband's returu, and, of course, immediately opened tbe bundle, wondering what I should find. I quickly tore off tbo paper, andlola Jewel Uox, at the contents of which, when I unclasped it, I stared in surprise.

It was not so much the beauty of the articles, though t&ey ^ere exquisite,as theirquaintness, which delighted me. There were pin,"erfr-rings and bracelet, and a vacant place meant for a ring. The pin and ear-rings were of an oval stone, deep red in oolor, and in the centre of each a cross, formed of pearls, with the initials 'B. M.' also in pearls undernoatb. The bracelet was abroad gold band, the clasp formed of a stone somewhat larger than the pin. with the same device and letters on It.

Tho beautiful purity of tbo pearls contrasted so strangely with the brilliant color of the stones, and they in turn shone so vividly on their white satin cushions, thatl think to this day there is no jewel-case that looks so lovely as mlue,

I was still looking at my new treasures, and wondoring why the ring should be gone, and what was tbe story connected with tbe Jewel—for there was astory I was sure—when my hnsband came in.

Why, Elly, up still 1 How did you got along without me?' Then, as his eyes fell on the jewelry: 'Why, what have you there7'

I told him

where

they came from,and

then gave him an account of ray evening, and ended with But, Harrv, what is tbe story about Cousin Johni What makes him look so careworn? And what did bemoan by 'at Isot an Elly Mason will wear

Gently, gently, little woman,' said Harry, laughingly. 'How do you manage to ask so many questions in a breath, and why do you let romance run away wltb you I don't know that there is any 'story' about John, ana don't think ho looks 'so careworn/ antt what he meant by "at l*at»' I baven the least idea. Many year# ago, when I was a boy, be went to England and was the head of a firm there. When be came back, ten years ago, he looked just as he doea now. I have often fancied he bad some grief, though to what It was I never bad any DEW:but MOW I am afraid that It la aa usual, there Is a woman at the bottom of it. At any rate, yon have probably more of his confidence than any of tbe rest of the family, for, though be la affectionate enough, there la quite a case of imperfect sympathies between him and bte step-mother and half-sisters, and we will rsapect bis evident desire for silence, sod not speak ot speculate about bis aflklrs. even to ourselves. Try on those trinkets, dear, and let me eee bow they look.'

I put tbem on, and be led me to tbe vines to see tbe effect. Tbe Jewelry was beautiful, but I said:

They ought, Harry, to be worn by a much prettier woman. I have no doubt tboy would have suited the other Elly Mason better.'

I don't know that: at any rat*, you are pretty enough #r me^and only wish John was

aa bappy

aa am.'

Tbe compliment felled to drive from my mind the thought, *Wbo could abe have been, and what baa become of her?*

All night I bad draamsof this Imsg. Inary Elly, and in lite morning eoukl not restrain from looking curiously at Cousin John, feeling a* though there must be some wfeange In blm but no, he waa Just tbe same, remained tne kind, oonaiderate boat, all through oaf visit. I fancied bU tone wsa iwfter fc?

J&tf-

rF.RR.K-HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL. AUGUST 16. i873.

tbem, for ha bad never given tbem the free use of bia room, but, though he smiled *t the charge, he Invited me there evefjr even Ing. and Hade me use jit freeivIn the daytime- I used to often sit there with my sewing, but fwquently found myaetf, the. work unheeded in my lap. gaxing at the trunk, wondering, for the tbon*abdtli.time, for whom that jewelry bad been in-

We had found, bb examining ihe «aa», the name of a London jeweler, famous some twenty years ago, audit was evident they were no recen^ purchase.

I never could answer my wonderings and the trunk acquired a strange fascination for me, yet I neither touched It nor went near it, bat only gased on it from afar, as did Moses at the promised land for did it not contsin the precious mystery Should I ever be able to solve it

All this .happened some few years ago, since when, though I occasionally saw Cousin John, in bis flying visits of business to New York, we never said anything about tbe mysterious tronk. Every time be seemed sadder and more careworn th*u the mere pre*sure^)f business cares would account for, and I often felt on almost nnr«fetrainablft desire to show him in some way that I sympathized with him in his bidden sorrow, for I was certain he had one. I think he divined my feelincs, for to jno and mine he-grow, if possible, moro kind ancl considerate aa tbe years went by.

One day last September, while busy preparing for a little trip we had In view, I beard my husband enter hurriedly, and it seemed to toe, before be had time to closs the door, the impatient cry'Elly, Elly, where are you?' (Why do all men, but particularly husbands, expect women, but particularly wives, to be always on han^i when thoy are at hand?) I hastened to answer, and in two or three bounds, be was np the stairs. He no sooner entered tbe room than I saw, from his face, some thing was wrongfand his first words

Elly, I am off in half an hour for Bostou. I have bad a telegram John Is ill and wants me.'

Cousin Johh ill! not dangerously, I hope?' *5

I a in afraid it is dangerously, dear, or he would not have summoned mo so imparatively'—at the same tiuje giving me the dispatch, which read

Come immediately. I am past hope.' Jons MASON.

The tears came to my eyea as I read It, for I had become very fond of him and yet when I tbougbt of his lonely life—for, living in the midst of his family, be had yet been alone—it seemed to me that death even in tbe prime of all his faculties, and with his uusat•isfied longiug—fori never could divest myself of tbe feeling that be had been seeking, seeking, yet never finding wbat besought—could have for him no

I hastened to help Harry In bis preparations, and get from bim all nebded directions, and, with many messages to Cousin John, speeded his departure.

I knew I could hear nothing until the next day, and tbe evening seemed interminable yet whenever I gazed at John's portrait—for, at my earnest request, be bad sent me one a few months previously—I felt that one could not wish to keep him if he were willing to go, for the longing look in the eyes was of a soul whose patience aud enduranco bad been tried to tbe uttermost.

Early in the morning came the dis-

Say*

atch: 'John may last through tbe He sends bis love, and wishes you had come.'

I also wished it had been possible, and resigned myself afc well as I could to waiting but ere tbe long day had come to a close, I heard again 'All is over. Expoct me Thursday.'

It was then Tuesday, yet the time passed, for, fortunately for us, tbe wheels of life must be kept moving, and though we must come to a standstill, we find that we still hurry along with the rest.

Harry, soon after his return, gave me a small gold key, which he said his cousin bad taken from his watch-guard and given him for mo, and I recognised It as the key of the little trnnk. He told me that John had not suffered much, bad expressed regret a( not seeing me, and had sent a note, the last thing he had written.

In tbe weak, uncertain characters I saw no trace of the bold handwriting 1 was so fkmiliar wltb. There were bnt a few lines, and It waa evident it had been too much for the faltering fingers to guide the pen, for tbe last few words bad wondered froin the line, and at last trailed off in unrecognisable mark*, and tbe words ran into each other:

DRAB ELLTI am falling fast. Remember your promise abont tbe trnnk. Open all the letters keep what bin tbem. Wear tbe ring and find her my dear Elly la, I think, in'—tbe word illegible. 'Tell ker I love her to tbe* —and then it ended abruptly.

My husband and I pondered longover' tbo fow Unes. .. Poor J«bn 1* said be, 'You were right, wife: there Is some and story in bis lifo, and he seems to have left to you the task or writing him If possible. Was her name Elly, and what ringdoes be mean

I don't know her name, but suppose It is tbe same as mine, from biasaylng. •At last an Elly Mason will wear tbem and tbe ring must be the one missing from tbe jewel case. But as he promised me only two letters to read,though I was to open all, bow shall I know wbat two to choose, In order to. learn bis story, and find if there is anything can do for bim t*

We will have to wait to decide that, dear: but probably John left some memorandum to |oW» by. Weahall see when tbe trunk comes.'

In a few days I bad a letter from one of bl* executors: MRS. MASO*—Madam In compliance with your request In tbe will of the late John Mason, 1 forward to you a small Inlaid trunk, of which, I understand bogavo you the key. Also his tin box of bonds, of which bs says, In bis will, 'If the right person for whom they are destined—who la known only to my cousin, Klly Mason—4oes not claim tbem within three yean after my death, then my beloved cousin, Efty Mason,Is to have them for her own use: but I wish, as soon as practicable after my death, that tbey sbould be sent to her to take charge of tbem.' He also leaves you a legwy of five thousand dollars 15,000,1 which will be paid

over to

you as soon a« tbe estate is set-

tled. I send you the trunk and box by Adams' Express, thin day. I remain, dear madam, yours, etc.,

Sept. 25th, im. I anxiously awaited tbe arrival of the express, and felt infinitely relieved when tbe box was safely delivered. That night on Harry's return home I gsve htm tbe letter to read, and we then opened tbe box, which I bad not been willing to do when alone First, •. -Sr --r ..

we took out tlU trunk and. 4oolting rft the «IM, I «aw the were 'J. B, M.» On poinUng them qut to mv husband, be said John bad no middle name, and *E.' must stand for the mysterious nnlfndwn.' On opening the box, we found government bonds to the amount of f10,000,and some loose bills. In tbe bo* wss a sllpof paper, on which was written: -.w*

These are for my darling—the cOu-

Souatobe

revert

foil

Iu the evening we decided to examine the trunk. I brought the kpy, and. with a sorrowful remembrance of Cousin John's fuee that memorial evening in his 4tndy, I unlocked it. It was fuller than when I had last seen it, aud on tbe lid was pasted the agreement we had made. On the top was a note addressed to me, bearing the date of January, 1#71 •MY DJBAB EU.v:—I don't believe that I shall live to write myself another letter, and as you will want, and I would wiih, my dear, that you should read the two letters which will give vou a clue (the whole may nevoi be known) to what my trouble and desire have been, I decided to advise yon to choose the last letter, and the one bearinE date, on the outside, of 1850. The others, dear, use your own discretion as to when to burn, or keep until vou find my Elly. At any rate, open them, and keep the contents. The Ukeness may aid you but, in the faint hope that the ring also may, we«r it until she claims it. Your pure little hands mav prosper where mine have not God bless you, my child, always and believe me, you have been my greatest comfort for tbe last few years, for your sympathy was very dear and precious to me, though I have never said so many words before. Good-by, and love me always. Yonr loving cousin. JOHN MASON.

My tears fell fast as I read this note, and it seemed almost sacrilege to open the letters which contained "the carefully guarded secret of so many years. I took out tbe last one. Tbey were all Indorsed with the years and then, seeing that the one for 1850 must be near the bottom, I began to break the seals toseelfthev contained anything, deciding that'I would replace each in its owu packet, to await the disposition of the proper owner.

I opened many, but they contained nothing. At last, there fell from one a lock of light brown hair, tied to a short, dark curl, which I knew had o°ine from

Cousin John's head. I carefully replaced the two in the soft white paper in which they had been wrapped, and laid them aside. Then there was a packet somewhat heavier, from which, on opening, I took a small bundle. It held two rings—one, that missing from the Jewelry set. with the same device and Initials, and on the inside the Inscription, 'From J. M, to E. M. Feb. 14, 1849.' i.

E M.' I repeated, mechanically. •Why, Harry, do you supppse they were married—for this other is a wed-ding-ring and see, the inscription is the same as on the first, only the year is

i860!'

I can't believe there was a marriage, Elly, for there was no reason why there should have been a secret one, that I know of. But, como, let us get to the bottom of thi§ affair as soon as we can.'

All tbo rest were only letters, and, taking the two I was to read, and the small package, I closed the tronk. The bundle held, as I supposed, the miniature, and we eagerly examined it. It lies before me now, as I write—the likeness of a woman not pretty, but with a strangely attractive face. The eyes are grav, the hair light brown, and at the first glance tho lack of color disappoints you, for the cheeks are pale but in the mouth lies the strength of the fitce. That has such A look of decision, that the foce would seem to be almost a stern one, were it not for the soft, clear look of the gray eyes. I have grown to love that face, and gaze at it, trying to read Its story, which those tender eyes would seem so willing to toll, wore it not for the mouth, wbo»e lines speak of self-oontrol, resoluto endurance, and reticence. Shall I ever see bet, ever bear those lips explain why two lives were blighted? For if thoso lips once gave a promise, there would be no retraction and there is a look of lore and longing in tbose soft eyes which must have made it hart) for their owner to wound such a he irt as was John Mason's. If abe ever loved hltn, she loves him now and HlWMVS.

I broke open the packet dated London, 1830, and there fell out many close1 written sheets, I read them aloud to Harry, knowing that to him Cousin John did not mean the prohibition to extend. Tbe letter was written in London and, after relating the variotu events of tbe year, and much wltb which my readers would have no Interest, there came a blank, and then he began abruptly:

So far, I have forcod myself to write calmly, and according to my wont, my yearly letter, but 1 could wish that ail my business affair* had failed, rather tban that, on this last night or the year. I should, Instead of the joyful hopes I bad of the naming year, have to acknowledge. Ob! my darling, my darling, come back to mo! If these few, yet long months have been so Insupportable, bow can I go through the years that may be my portion I am not yonng. I ga*e vou tbe garnered love tbat bad been kept for you eo many lonely years, and I era never gather It again, nor would I If I oould. In spite of all my pain. tb4 few months vou were mine have been all my life. Tbough I never dreamed, Valentine's Eve., when we parted, that there could come such a morrow. I know you loved me then: yoor trusting eyes and loving lips oould not deceive, aod, from my own heart, I know yon love me now and always mast.

Please God, sometime, I will find my Klly again.and my life shall be one long wailing and watching for that blessed time. But, my child, the years are so few. Heaven help me! I am writing as though we were nover parted—you. know not where, and I, lonely and heart-broken. In tbe borne I fondly thought would be yours —but as If you would some day read these lines and yet. If yon do not read these, you will, Aioer hers or in the hereafter, sometime read what is written In my heart tor you, and you only, now and forever.

Whv could you not have kept tbe ring, dear Did you fear thst the cross would prove heavier than those that

yoiha

spent for her benefit, or In

nding her at tbe end of the year, the surplus to be invested in a bond. If not found by 1878, the whole amount to

lo Elly Mason, in whom I

have full confidence that, should the rightful owner appear, abe

will

do her

Justice. Joan MASON,' I grew %nxlous over the weight of trust snd confidence reposed in me, for aq Instant wlsbod Cousin John had chosen someono else to carry out bis wishes. It was only tor an instant, for the remembrance or his affectionfjand patient sweetness made me feel guilty at even mofoentarily shrinking from doing all in my power to further any deaireofhis.

gItter!give

ve pnt res rwlwr rar

would have been our wedding ring, glanced at Harry last Valentin^ who said. 'Yes, I see they were never married,'] and made the vow that never. while Ills lasted, would .«easo to search for you. Whether in poverty, sickness, or death I find*you. udder no cireumstanoes ahail you be able to cast away my love, never oan it fall you, and never will I believe—not even from your own lips—that you ceased or could cease to love me. We are one in heavt, my darling, though divided now but if you oould see how these months have worn on me, you would relentyon would write to let me know where you are.

My treasure—theagh lost to me, yet still my dearest treasure—I hope some of the notices I have sent will meet your eyes but ah I why did you hot trnst me

I would have waited years, If you fslt vou did not love me well enough my darling, I would never have urged vou to marry me, had you so told me, 'for your happiness was all I sought, and I would have gooe away, rather than give you a moments puin. But to think of you, alone, and toreed to begin life anew, In some strange place, it makes t.»e wild and this sad fate brought about by me. when I would

ladly my lifs f°r you-—'tis bitter,

I have thought overall ourmeetings and talks, to find, if possible, some reason why yoa should havo left me and Sometimes, If it were not for your note, and the ring on my finger, I would think I wss in tbo midst of some dreadful dream, from which I would wakeio life and happiness. I reuch out ray hands, and cry, 'Elly, my darling,' and feel as though my despairing cry must reach you: but no one answers—there is no response, save tbe slow ticking of tbe clock, as it drags «n the minutes into hours, and a little portion of the time is gone that I must live through. •Did you know how much I loved you I did not, till I lost you and If I oould see you, for five minutes, even, I think I could perhaps bear this parting. Your picture haunts me, lis so like, yet unlike you never sat behind and looked at me so unresponslvely. Could I only bear you speak again I— but this blank, dead wall of despair! I almost wish my brain would reel, for if I were mad, I might not remember.' 'I had read, and re-read, your notethink of it, love, tbe only one I ever had from you—till every word is graven on my brain and it gives me no clue, no comfort. In this wide world is there no one who can help me find my lost, darling Will Heaven havo no pity

A year ago I was so happy tor you loved me, and I was preparing this nest for ray bird and now My Elly, wherever you may be, may the thought of my untiring and exhaustless love be about you and never were atou dearer to me than on this New Year's Eve.' 'JOHN MASON.'

As I finished, Harry said: is not ber other name given—and do you suppose he destroyed her note? We have no certain knowledge, from this, as to who she was. Poor John 1 I wish he could have made np bis mind to tell some one ef this sad affair we might have helped him and, 1 am sure, no one but you, dear wife, ever dreamed tbat his quiet life held such a sad secret. Open tbe last letter it seems tbicker than this.'

I took up tbe letter dated 1870. In it there were several enclosures—one addressed to me. On opening It, there were two sheets, and by chance, I bit one Intended forme. I noticed the falling off in the handwriting—poor Cousin John Even then he had begun to fall. Itranthu«: •MY DEAR Erxrt—I have bopod against hope but tbo doctors tell ine I cannot liwe until another year. Yet there is no iminediato danger. I havo never had tbe heart to read over any of my letters, and fear that you will only obtain a partial idea of what I should like to have you know. Though I shall ask you to read the letters for 1850 and 1870,1 cannot clearly recollect what the one for 1860 will tell you, and will write here what is necessary for you to understand. That year, my child, I lost all that made life desirable. I had been engaged ever since February, 1840, to Miss Krten Morton and we were to have been marrl*d February 14, 1850. She was my Valentine and the day always was peculiarly associated wltb her. Our first meeting was on that day. 1 left her Valentine's ete and tbe next day, few hours before tbe time for our wedding, I received a note from her, which I enclose. Since then I have never seen or beard of ber. I have constants had notices put in the papers, so wordeel tbat, should they meet her eyes, she would understand them.

I cannot help feeling certain tbat she will yet be found, and that eventually the mystery of her disappearance will be explained. To you, my dear, I leave this charge—these papers—for her the money, In trnst, for her, and tbe assurance that I loved to tbe last.' •Twenty years ago I lost her. For many years I wore her ring, but, at last, laid It away In one of these packages. If you will, wear it, for ber sake and mine. It may help you to find her. But when she comes, give both tbe rings to her. My dearpbild, good-bye you will help to carry out tbo old man's wishes, I know. •'Yours. JOHN MASON.'

The other sheet, on opening, Was, I found, addressed 'My Darling,' and so ears fully laid it aside. Then, there was the usual yearly letter her note to him, now yellow with age. and a fow of tbe advertiwments be bad inserted, In tbe vain hope of her seeing tbem. I first read her note to him:

Mr DKAH JOHN:—I bad not the heart, when you were talking, to-nigbt. of 'our future,' to tell you it would

never

be spent together. We have met aod parted for tbe last time, desr whv. I cannot tell yon. But believe me, did I not think It would be better for your Intsrest that this sboiild be, I would not be able to take so hard a step. Think of me kindly, If you can, but one forever lost to you snd, tbough my words seem oohf, trust me, it is because I dare not say what I feet I return tbe rtog I am afraid to keep It but your likeness and letters will still be mine.' 'Yours, Bar.' •What a cold, heartless letter.' criod Harry, Indignantly, as I finished reading to him. 'Ton msy be sure, John wasted his love on her she wss not worthy of him. To cast blm sside in that fashion! I don't believe she ever cared for him. Probably seme richer lover turned np, and she took bim. I'ys no sympathy for her snd if she ever is found, I shall certainly give her apiece of mv mind/

I waited until hi had finished bis walk up and down tbe room before I answered

I think vou are wrong, Harry. The letter is, I think purposely cold assbe says she dares not trust herself to ss she feels. There was

read John's Isst letter, and then sleep ontho whole allUIr, amMsetde to-mor-row, when we fire calmer, wbat is best to be done.'

I glanced 0v6r the last letter. There was not so much about business, but there was kindly mention of all the members of the family, and of us, in terms so affectionate that my eyes filled many Umes with team. It old seem too hard, that one of such a loving, kindly nature, shoftld have all hTs troubles come to him through his affections. The letter closed thus:

I shall never see my darling In this world} ray disease has made rapid inroads, the past few months, snd another year will find me gone. Sbe is all that makes me wish to cling to earth the hopo tbat has not wholly failed me for twenty years Is still there that sbe will one day know how I loved and trusted' her.' Yet, O my deaf one, could I know that you are dead, it would be to me a comfort, for our dead are truly ours—none can take them away from us neither time nor change can affect them—they belong to us. Oould I believe that you would be thet'c to greet me when leave here, ah, how I would long for tbe time! But to droad that all these longyearsyou may havo bad to strive with poverty, sickness, and care, and I, who would havo shielded you from every trouble, powerless to aid, has made life seem to me too hard to be borne.

My love—as dear, nay, dearer to me than when, twenty vears ago, you promised to be mine—I still hope and trust you will learn in death, as in life, vou were ever the first in my heart. Ella will succeed perhaps where I bavo failed. Perhaps I have not gone the right Way to work but oould 1 only, know that you have not been suffering, these twenty long years, I would gladly endure ail tne pain and weariness onco again for that kuowledge.

I have been a better man for knowIng you, but O, the anguish of losing you, and the long-deferred hope, haver made my life a bitter one. To-day, December 29,1860, Is my sixtieth birthday but I am so broken you would hardly know me, should you meet me. I leave to my cousin tbe quest of my life, and may sho prosper where I have met only with jsorrow and continued disappointment. JOHN MASON.' •Why, Harry, I did not know be was so old. How long ago did he come back to this country.'

He name back at the death of the senior partner, and became the head of the firm. Poor old John' his troubles are over. But bow sad his life has been and there was no one to lighten his cares. There is nothing more to read, is there 'Nothing but these,' I aiisworod, showing biin the notices, which wo read silently, thinking of the feelings with which they were written, and tho slow dying out of the hopes thoy had raised.

All night ray dreams were hauutod by what we bad read and in the morning we discussed long and earnestly, as to tbe best plans for finding cousin John's lost Valentine.

A year and tfiore has paescki since. then, and all our efforts nave been in vain. While pondering on what new

[ast

some

dans might be inado, I dotided, ou the day of tbe old year, to write this fragmentary sketch and see if I could find any one to publish it. It might, possibly be brought to her notice. At any rate it is tny last hope aud device ana, with many a prayer for itssuocess, I send this forth, hoping if any read It who can in tbo least way aid me in carrying out the dead man's life-long desire, they will give me their assistance.

ELLY MASON. 1872, --.S

AMERICAN SOCIETY. I In an editorial entitled "Ameridm Society," tho Missouri Republican tells some t/uths. It says:

American extravagance has become proverbial. We pay more for living and get less for it tban any other people but we insist that what we do get shall be so served up as to attract tbe envious gaee of the unthinking multitude. If the whole truth must be told, American life is fast degenerating into a vulgar ainbition to spend money foolishly. We are getting to bo—if wo are not already—a nation of snobs, dovoured by a mean admiration of mean things. We are endeavoring to ape European style without having the Institutions and surroundings which make that style tolerable. Wo go abroad not only for tbe fashion of our clothes, but for the fashion of our living and»what Is worse than all, we brkug home tbe poorest fashions and leave the best behind. We boast of our political Independence, and perhaps we have even too much of tbat article but iu social independence we are sadly lacking. Instead of deciding for ourselves what shall bs tue shape aud size of our domestic arrangements, we allow our neighbors and friends—providing they stsud on the same or a higher sopiul plane—to decide for us. Our houses are built not so much for tbe comfort and convenience of those who inhabit tbem, ss to win a favorable verdict from tbe public. Tbo furniture with which we fill them is selected with no re regard to tbe opinion of tbo casual guest or occasional caller, tban for the demands of necessity or taste. We do not ask, "what Is worth but, what does it cost and the article whatever it may be, Is generally estimated, not according to its intrinsic value, but by tbe price paid for it.

The ficrce strife for money, and tbe ignoble uses to whlcb we put It, are doing Infinite damage In another direction. Tbe family is tbe chief support of tbe state, snd whatever tends to destroy tbe purity and sanctity of the former. Is to the same extent endangering the existence of the latter. Mutual respect snd affection constitute the sum and essence of true marriage and when theae are tbrust aside make room for 6tber and lower considerations, tbe fsmlly relation baa lost its highest meaning and Its holiest power. We need not say to what extent matrlmonial alliances in this country have passed from the management of Cupid to that of Mammoa and bow thorough-1: ly tbe promptings of love have been subordinated to the dictates of finance. In what is termed by courtesy "our best society," a love match is regarded as a

curiosity

dreadfol

mistake that separated tboee^two. Be sore, she has mourned bl as faithfully as be her.'

Well, there Is no use of on tbe whys and wherefores. Let us

tude and tbe man or womap wbo selects a partner without making pecuniary resources the crucial test. Is deemed an amiable lunatic, for whom tbe law should appoint a guardian. The consequences of these marriages of convenience are painfully apparent. If

ordinary magni

the

cash basis upon which the marriage was founded holds out, the contracting parties may get on together without grave trouble but whenever

tbat

sis drops away, Alienation and discord are apt to follow, and in many cases separation is the final result.

Were you guarded in your conduct while In New York asked a father of bis son, who had just returned from a visit to that city. "Yes,sir part qf the time by two policemen."