Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 4, Number 32, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 7 February 1874 — Page 6

I ri en .1

THE CROWDED STREET.

BY A. F. BRIDGES.

lit on a public plana, A oof frinu the rash of the street. And wticb.tbroaith the g.itht-ring twilight, i'he hurrying form* at ruy feet. There are mm* whose eyelids are heavy

With the weight of the bet, blinding tear, Whose hosora« are tossed by tb» billow* That roll to the wind's stormy year.

Whose fsces are Penciled by sorrow *itk line* th-u ate deeply Impressed,— Thesptrit'»d«et tineas revealing,—

Toe

mdne*»

and woe of uure*t.

Tber^are

other* whose

faces

And preming

are glowing

With the radiance of pe«ee and of joy— The pure, golden sun light of rap to re

Unmixed with a -had*' of alioy.

Bide by Klde with fhedark mtntled tigvre*, Amid the Commotion and din, Are»ome in the frmhness of childhood,

Young stranger* to sorrow and tin.

eagerly onward,

From Innucnift! ever debarred, Are some with the stern look of manhood Or face* life'* hardships have scarred.

Where tend* the great throng a* It jostle* Through the street that is crowded and wide? What they with countenance

Do they mourn for the pact that has di And when*, when the watches of midnight Th*-ir vuil«s Mient shall keep, Will the forms that are moving beneath me

Keposein the quiet of sleep?

And who of this crowd on the morrow Will Join in the throng once again? And who shall repose In death'* xlnmber

To b* seen nevermore among men

And wher* J* the busy throng tending That dailv «hall pax* o'er thl* street, Llk the swift-rolling tide of the ocean

O'er the wave beaten strand at it* feet?

An an«wer come* soon to my asking: Toa haven 'ar ov.r the S»-H Where the tempest-t«**pd mariner flndetb

A home from all turbulence free.

O there, like the tide* of the ocean Thai ha*te to tbeir haven away, Thin tide of humanity freighted

Shall sweep through the portals of Day, And break* on the sands of pure crystal.

more unceasing to ro ttn.

In the land that Is t«r in the heavens. The eternal built wan Jerar's home!

Annie Bell.

When John Bell, the only merchant, mired upon a capital of one hundred thousand dollar*, the people of big native town thought bim a man of almost inexhaustible wealth, lor those were times In which mert lived comfortably on an income of twenty-five hundred dollar*, and luxuriously on one of five thousand. John Bell was an old fash toned man. He bad carried a con science into bit* business, and, what WAS perhaps more remarkable, he had brought & conscience out of it. He knew that be was called 'Honest John Bell,' and he prised the title more tban be did his wealth—far more than be would have done tbe prefix of honora bit*to bis name, won as ho knew that title too often in chicanery and in trtgue, John Bell was still a bale man of middle ago when be withdrew to the town of E- in New Hampshire, with a son sixteen years old and H. daughter only eight. That son was tbe unsuspected cause of his pn using in the full course of successful trade, stifling the prompting* of ambition and the eager striving of an active nature, and smiling himself down to the stillness of a con wry-town within sight of the bouae in which he bad born, and the academy in whicb be had received bis education. To the great mortification of hiKiimre aspiring son, (he name of Itobert Bell was now placed on the rolls oI thin same academy. To the remonstrances of the voting gentiemnn, who, having doclined a collegiate counte, and entered the counting bouse of aNew York merchant two years be fore, considered himself as already in tbe CIXMH of metv, and beyond schools, the father replied:

1 put you there, hoping that it may not Iw too late for you to unlearn some thing* that your Now York associations have taught you. If I could only so* \on a boy again. 1 should be happy imle« d!'

This could not be. The shadow went not back upon tbe dial plate for Robert Bell. A boy in years, be was a man in heart his strongest desire, to bave a clear field for theexerclse of his

power*.

M* father was only a shopkeeper,' he said to his wondering sister.'I will be the Nitpoleon among merchants. A hundred thousand It may do to veg Otaie upon in a country-town, but that will uot do for me, I shall be million* alr»\ and then, Annie, I will send for my pretty sister to preside over the most luxurious establishment in New York.1

Sui-h were the dreams of the boy— drHHtiiM excited by the silly boasts of hi« companion* at school, and by tbe flattering homage which be saw paid to wealth, «ven by those who were reputed wise and good men. John Bell bad hoped, in transferring his botne to a country town,that its unsophisticated society, its simple pleasures, and natu ral modes of livlug, would restore to hia son tbe freshness of bis boyhood. But, ere the five fears had passed which lay between Robert's removal to K—— and bis majority, the father saw this could not be, aud weary of the stil K-n dwmttent of bis son, and fearful of its influence on the happiness of bis pet Ami)*, he sent tbe bny, at eighteen,

New York, consigning hint to tbe care of an old friend who was doing a x»ry lar^e business in Wall Street banker and broker.

Years iwiwd by, bringing nothing but good to tbe merchant's home,where Attuie Bell grew like some fair young fi.wer. gathering sweetness and bright»i*s from all around her. There was sunshine in the ripples of her goldeu bair. snushine in her dimpled smiles. No falrv dancing In greenwood stiad** aver moved more lightly no bird ever eartolled more sweetly. And beneath all this lightness lay woman's thoughtful tenderness ana a rare strength of print ipl»\ Robert Bell made an annual visit at Christmas to his father, bringing Annie costly presents, and his father »uch letters from his old friend at *de him forget his fears, and rejolew in hia son's ability and success.

Wnen Annie was eighteen, and R»lwrt truntyiii, Jo*.n Beil died— died suddenly, having failed to do what be bad often called other men too la for not doing, and what he bad most seriously determined that nothing should prevent his doierr to make a will. It was «»f Huts com ^aenoe, people said would bave left all to his children, of course. and Robert will take care of A mute"* portion as sfell as of bis own, i*w»»r Annie! etr«. led to be calm, but tbe br.^-tneee v. .at all gone aa sh««aw the dear old home dismantled, tbe familiar thl»|:. I lowed by the t^nch of the band t-- loved so tenderly, thrown asfcSe as vah,--te*a, or borne away a* tbe property of* ingw*. But *b« w«a young, and life a^ a grew bright tor her in Kir t*s ho-s In «ltv—« i»*»me over u:uh 6fc_.ona^..j w»ft« preeMed, and where there was a luxo'-v md display qtalts mw tooor liw)^ ittnio.

V\ by, Kiitxfrt, b»w rlrb you must be as she gaz^d around rooms rich with brocade and velvet, and dazzling with ormolu, and whose walls were bung with pictures whicb seemed to bcrthe choices gems of art.

Silly cbild!' cried Robert, 'all this is only my stock in trade. Who do yoo think would do business with a poor banker?'

Bat then yoa mast be rich to have snch stock in trade, said Annie, de cislvely,

Robert answered only by a quick glance at his wife. She was readier of tongue. "Oriainly, Annie,' she said must be or will be, for appeal an^ea produce realities.'

Mrs. Robert Bell was perhaps also classed by Roben asp irt of bis stock in trade. ber social talent attracting many of those to bis house who after ward became useful to him in business,

Not a few men of retired habits and inherited wealth, not a few well-en-dowed widows, bad been decided—in the delicate question of the banking bouse which should become tbe depository of tbeir unemployed capital and tb" adviser and agent in its investment —by a graceful attention from a lady who combined the elegmce of perfect ton with a tact that enabled her to adapt herself to each varied form of character among those whose favor she desired to win. There was no doubt that this marriage, if a speculation, b»d been a profitable speculation for tbe house of Br«ine and Bell, and now, just as an unusual run on the stock of tbeOcafenoca Railroad, of whicb

kBraine

and

Bell were tbe principal holders, had been made by the 'bears'— Braine and Bell were 'bulls,'of course—-and they might have suffered in consequence. John Bell bad died, and the fortune he left—Annie's aiiare of it as well »a Robert's—served as a very convenient bolxter for the sinking beads of the firm.

Annie, I find that my father's property has increased in value since be retired from business. His estate is valued attwo hundred thousand dollars. So vou see you are an heiress. What will you do with your money

That is for you to say, Robert,' said Annie, quickly then hesitated, and. biiifhing and stammering, added: Of course, Robert, I want you to takethat is, I want to pay -that is, I moan— my expenses here, know.'

Oh. that is nothing!' exclaimed Robert. 'Oh, yes, Robert indeed I could not be eHsy.' 'Ob. well—be easy. I'll see to all that but thut will be a bagatelle thousand or so,two at most—bow much more will you want? All you do not want had better be invested in railroad bonds—pay capitally.' •Could I bave five hundred dollars to spend as I pleased asked Annie timidly, •Five hundred dollars! Why, you will want that for your dress alone as you lay aside this heavy, gloomy dress and, by,-the by, dear, I wish you w»uld lighten your mourning—now don't be gin to cry, Annie—you know, if it would do him any good, I would wear it, and have you wear it forever but it can not, and it does me serious barm.'

Harm, Robert!' sobbed AnBie, try ing vainly to press back ber tears. 'How can that be? If it is so, I bad fcetter go away.' 'Just like a woman's reasoning. Now listen to me one moment, Annie, and you will understand the case, and, I am sure, will do what I want. It is not Annie, that I feel less our great loss than you do, but business men bave no time to listen to feeling hence, if one pauses in tbe race for that, down be goes, and a dozen trample over him in tbeir eager rush toward the prize wc are all seeking. A pretty, agreeable young lady in a bouse is often a great help in my business, and you know, we are in tbe same boat now, and sink or swim together.' •But, Robert, I do not yet understand what my mourning has to do with all this.'

Why, Annie, do you not see that it makes the bouse gloomy, and people will not come to a gloomy bouse? Sarah would have given one of ber charming pctits soupers last week, but-how could she entertain gay guests while you moved like a heavy black clond over tbe scene?'

Then, Robert, let me go away.' And bave everybody

(semed

Baying

to move

I was

so bard-hearted, I nad driven my sister from my house!' What shall I do, Robert? I know not what you wish,' Annie spoke, impatiently.

I will tell yoa, Annie. I have asked two or three gentlemen to dinner to-day: let Sarah make some change in your dress it shall still be black, but it may be a little lighter, a little more becoming, and then come to dinner determined to be my bright, beautiful sister again.'

I will do my best,'Annie said, coldly, and Robert kissed her, and called ber bis pet, and th»n hurried away, feeling himself a little ashamed or bis own talk. Could he have looked back and seen tbe girlish face fall into tbe claspod bands, and heard the deep sobs that shook the slender form, be would scarcely have been comforted. But he did not look back, and tbe storm lulled at last, and Annie rose and sought Mrs. Robert Bell, decided to do all they wished to-night, and to morrow to write to a friend in E to look out a home for her there.

We bave said that Mrs. Robert Bell possessed tact, and she manifested it on this occasion. Annie was asked to make no painful changes, and yet, by the aid of a skillful coffUrur and modiste, a different air was given to her dress, which seemed now to render more in tere*ling the sweet, childlike face glowing with tbe excitement of dressing for the first time consctously for efTecu

Among tbe goesta of the evening was a young Southerner, rich, handsome, agreeable. The first quality was his passport to tbe society of Mr, and Mrs. Robert Bell. Tbe others won for bim the heart of Annie. Over tbeir loves I shall not linger. It wa» the old story— who does not'know It? Bryan Randolph, proud of bis pedigree, of his old home, of tbe associations with his name who had sometimes doubted whettser he should find any one worthy or bearing tbe honored name and continuing the line of the Randolphs, saw this fvir simple Anaie Bell, and doubted only whether he were wor jr to win and wear so charming And Annie —well, Annie never wrote to morrow's letter to seek a *e at K—, but con-

Mo Southern

lands. Bryan was impatient to wear whnt he bad won, H** r!s fether most signify bis consent Annie sronid bewttws bis I w. i) the best heart In !h» w. .d, Lu fatlu had nitrons

pr*jud»«*s *od bated Yankee*, and Frr-ao -.red wk his eau*» 'to In I-is: antst in ptmo*. 'Only fc»r a few week a, Annie, then yoo west be ready,' he *aid.

I »ill rttody,' M»«rip.r»d the bia»bi«'£

X:-

by of »lK»e

a W

to aim «lt to trace, she suddenly exeittluMKf, lis gtr^l 1 mm so \l*0 an* 1) I know twas

an b*-ires? Ar'n't yoa glad of it No, indeed,' said Brysn, coldly, for bim. 'Wby, father does not care abort wealth be would give all tbe gold that was ever coined lor one ounce of good blood—an honorable name is bis strongest passion.'

Annie shrank a little from her lover —felt a little that he did not understand. perhaps that be undervalued ben then, with a iittie quiver in ber voice, which went to Bryan's heart, she said, softly:

W is not my father's sn honorable tiaio*-? He was called 'Honest John Bell.'

Yes, indeod, a noble name something to be proud of. I shall tell my father that, Annie.'

Robert Bell, well pleased witb his sis t^r'n engagement, was strangely angry with ber tor insisting on to postponement of the marriage until Bryan Randolph could see bis father, obtain his consent, and return.

Obtain bis consent!' he said, witb a sneer, 'you talk as if that was certain yoa know little of these Southern ions.'

breakfast alone—by no means an unusual event in that self-indulgt*it household The French maid of Mrs. Bell came to ask that "mademoiselle would bave the bonte to come to the chamber of madam.' Annie found her sister-in-law surrounded by trunks half packed, while both bed and couch covered with laoes, silks, and toxes of welry.

And now tbe door is closed, what is the matter?—where is Robert?'

The matter is, Annie, that Robert haa failed. He and his partner have lost everything. Thry cannot pay sixpence on tbe dollar.' •Can not pay! O Sarah, what wilt become of their creditors cried Annie.

It would be more sisterly, I think, to ask what will become of them—tbe creditors must take care ol themselves.'

Annie did not answer as she inijght have done—that it was too late lor thesn to do that. ,v1'9 said:

Of course, &arah, Robert rr first thought, and he knows, if 2 uot, that all I bave wilt be bis as much aa It is mine.*

He deserves no lees from yon for, in all the xieties of the last few days, be thought of you, and secured this boase and furniture to yon.' 'Secured this use and fiirrtmre t* me I ldo not lerstand. R« rt#l ways T' ID OK* that ID.. -d let menati baodW fHtottuu 'Did yoa exp Robert to put tbu sonu In his pocket and

TEH KK-HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL. FEBRUARY 7. 1874.

properly their own was left— what then? ated thus her little accomplishments, why, credit was more than ever neces- Tbey seemed so very little, and such sary to them—and confidence makes a lonely, toilsome tract seemed to credit—and so on to the end—the bitter stretch out before her, while hovering end of ruin and shamt. Am I sketch- above it gleamed and glistened in ing a strange, fanciful picture? Is tbe mocking brightness tbe life of love and picture not a portrait the truth of which joy wbich would bave been hers as every day's experience may verify? Randolph Bryan's wife—a life never Must it, shall it be ever tbus? 0 moth- now to be bers, for bis father will era to whose honored bands the Giver never consent to bis wedding one who 01 life has committed tbe first guardian- brings with ber neither riehes nor good ship, tbe first guidance of tbe future name.' man, will you not sacrifice your little Poor child you are faint,' said Mr. vanities to the grand possibilities of Phenix

that shapes the future life but must not linger—the end is near. For a few weeks longer Robert Bell was able to stave off the coming ruin. Its shadow was upon bim during all those weeks, and pebaps none but the

s. it

Robert was perpetrating a fraud in thus patting beyond the reach of his creditors what be knew bad been regarded by them as security for his payment of bis debts bat ber countenance was sufficiently expressive, and Sarah exclaimed

Annie, you are too absurd! I tell yoa tbe house is yours, and yoa may be tbankful t~ Robert for taking each care of yoa. I sent for you to tell you that I am going to papa's and I think yoa had better come there with me for a few days, till things settle down and people are done talking. Of coure, yoa will either sell or let this bouse.'

Sarah, do you know where Mr. Phenix lives?' S^rah ottered an impatient exclamation 'I do not believe you have heard a word I said to you! I am sure I don't know what you want with Mr. Phenix. I suppose you can find where he lives by looking in the directory. I shall leave here this evening, and I advise you to pack your trunks at once.'

Annie went to iier room, but it was only to put on her bonnet and shawl. She knew that a directory stood on her brother's table, and she soon acquinted herself with the place of Mr. Phenix' residence. What she was to do there Annie could scarcely have told she

Annie grew a little pale, but shs an swered, steadiiv: Tbe more danger there is of Mr Randolph's refusal, tbe more necessity there ia that his son should not take his I only felt that she needed such guidance consent for granted.' as ber father would bave given, and

Robert was silenced, but by no means that she had often beard him name pacified. He hastened to bis wife, who Phenix as a man whom he thoroughly was reclining on a coach in ber dres- trusted. aing-room, resting after a round of vis Annie found tbe house—found Mr, its. I Phenix, for, as we have said, it was-yet

How have things gone to-day she early, and he was not so active at sixty asked, quickly. five as he had been when John Bell had Worse and worse. I have had to call

in everything we could getAnnie's one hundred thousand dollars?'

Swallowed up long ago, poor chilr!» That is what makes ma half mad at tbe idea of her letting Bryan go home without her. He would never miss that hundred thousand dollars he has more wealth now tban be knows what to do with—as his wife Annie would bave been splendidly provided for, aud she would have owed it to me, so that if I

had never been able to pay her a cent, can legally for yourself—' I should not bave been troubled. Now —well, I can not help jt, I could not command Fortune: 1 bave done as well for i.er as for myself.'

Is it too late to make some provision for ber The placo at Newport is safe you bought that in my name. If this bouse could be secured to Annie—' •Capital! I will see to it at once. Tomorrow everything may be discovered, and then it will be too late. It is only lour o'clock, and Emmonds never leaves his office before five. Make an excuse for me if I am late at dinrier'and Robert Bell hurried away.

For months he had been living tbe feverish life ol one who knows that more than fortune, reputation, his right to a place among honorable men, rested as much on chance as does tbe stake which tbe desperate gambler has just thrown upon the fatal red or black. His father's fortune's bad long been sunk—bis own earnings had gone before—bis wife's dower had been expended in furnishing the bouse at Newport thought that—that

and the yet more expensively-arranged bouse in the city. Sarah had been reared in luxury, and must not be asked to sacrifice ber accustomed surroundings. Tbey must live up to the income whioh her family supposed them to possessto be suspected of being in any strait would be fatal. Expensive bouses, rich furniture—these were the capital on which be traded—these gave confidence to depositors. And when losses followed losses, aud nothing that was

known him. We will not dwell upon tbe interview whi«h followed between tbe bouest old merchant and the young girl anxiously inquiring what was the righ' way—the straight though narrow path which few, it must be confessed now follow. Mr. Phenix remembered his visitor as a chiid, and to her appeal •Please t«ll me, just as i^y father would have done, what I ought to do, He answered, gravely 'That will de pend, my dear young lad3*, on what your object is—whether to keep all yoa

'Oh, no! no!' interrupted poor Annie with almost passionate emphasis, only want to be honest, and, if I can, to save other people from suffering by Robert.'

Then there is no doubt that the bouse, which is not yours by bona fide sale, but only by a conveyance in tended to put it out of your reach, and out of

And bow should I do this—I am so ignorant •You must choose some person to act for you, and give him a power of attorney.'

And would you—Oh, Mr. Phenix for my father's sake—would you act for me?' •I will, for your own sake but now tell me where you are going, and on what yoa are to live till this business is arranged?'

I don't know exactly. Sarah told me I could go to her father's with hert till things settled down, but then she

That you would sell the house and furniture, and be a rich heiress still but now that your riches are about to make to them*selves wings, what can you do?'

I think I could be a iverness, per haps, or a teacher of little children in a school, or I could embroider, or ool»r photographs.'

Poor Annie's heart grew faint, the radiance all faded from ber eyes and the ^olor from her face, as she •nuttier-

your position Will you not come, Mrs. Phenix.' as you may, the regenerators of society But Annie would not be delaved by teachlHg your children to prize un- action, sbe felt, was tbe best medicine sullied honor above wealth? to think for her grief. The arrangements were he gaze and envy of their fellow-crea- soon completed that were necesswrv to tures a poor exchange for a mind at make Mr.Phenix ber agent—her trunks peace, and a heart on which rests the were packed,and then came the importsunlight ol God's favor? We speak to ant question, 'Where shall I go?' mothers, because we believe that in the Sarah had departed in a rage with what nursery often the mould has been cast] she termed the absurdity of Annie,s

till yoo

e*«»ed for it? pot ii •.. MBCM It went, Of t: :«, 11 *f-e rest. But tbis house* I far dare say. »f fl th- o- an,

**ii! no be poor,* 1

nut, b-.r-'b. sorely th** belongs f*» -sin«!••• «»••», He K-'i.i t»e bimseir t!i-i! h«f tlw OMr- ferawi._ose anti ^roitnrc.

hesitated. She knew not bo#

LO tbe thought*

Afc

rest yourself, and I will call

firoceedings,

accusing ber of unsiaterl.v

nsensibility, and assuring ber that neither Robert nor she woald interfere with her hereafter, since she had found another adviser.

Annie was not wholly destitute, for

simple Annie, wbohad seen the deep there still remained in ber purse nearly depression of hia lonely hours and his reckless gayety iti society, could bave been surprised when the last blow fell. To her the surprise was utter. No dream, no faintest suspicion of the truth had ever dawned upon her. How could the daughter of "Honest John Bell" suspect poverty, ruin, where all the applicancesof luxury were seen? it was yet early.

three hnndred dollars of the last money which Robert had paid her, as a (livid end on her shares in certain stock With this sum she might bave lived with tolerable comfort for some months at E but in New York sbe would be more likely to obtain sucb employ ment as she could honestly engage to perform. Bat where could sbe nope to

Annie bad taken bor find a home at once cheap and comfort-

able—she who bad never entered boarding house in her life? Her pain ful thoughts were interrupted by Mrs Phenix, whose Kind heart had been stirred by her husband's narration of his morning interview witb Annie

Come to as, my child, for tbe present, yon want quiet thing* will shape th»mseves by -and-by—we will help yoa to look for employment.' And so these

'Sarah, where are you going?' ex-j good Samaritans poured oil and wine

claimed tbe astonished Annie. Hush-sh ah, Annie!—close the door I cannot trust a servant except Fan chette."

into the wounds they knew of—there was one they knew not of, whicb wa* draining the life-blood from tbe young heart. Annie had accepted separation from Randolpb Bryan as a consequence less of ber poverty than of the disgrace wbich had fallen on ber name, she bad accepted it in mute despair. 'My father values an honorable name more tban millions of gold,' were words that rung in ber ears even in ber dreams.

Randolph Bryan bad hastened home on wingn supplier! by love and hope. His father would be mad, doubtless, at his marrying a Northern girl, nut be could not refuse bim what he would see was so necessary to bis happiness, and be would love Annie act soon as be saw her. Sbe was just what his father most admired in woman. As nsoat. hope had told a flattering tale. Mr. Bryan utterly refused bts son, Randolph grew angry, said willful words, and so drew a darker shadow around Annie's Image in hts father's mind.

Tbus, one morning, in the second week after Randolph's return, found tbe father and %»n sitting lo almost pilent estrangement over their luxuriou* tr'»«kfast. Tbe outil-bag

wa»

orought

iu, and. opening It, Mr. Bryan !o**ed eot' nptnoo«ly to his son a letter bearing the New York pom-mark. R»«dof r»li tore it open, and sat in utter »*"v iM. rtoent over tb« few lints in wt.Am.'?",

witb

a quietndf that

I iui col'lnesrt. released bi«»:

'"•in -very euiw had given her op-1 "o }n«n. l»wf ,«•**•! tanr sbe ha*' r.v. 11 tnsuppres* cry of l»er she wrote tb* was £a*t tb»-

I'rusliloe m-thinie to J| Wh, new I ut .TIMS? Sbe

were parted—wherefore? He looked to bis father, and saw bis reading eagerly a New York journal, while tbe flush of anger was on bis brow, and his eyes gleamed like live coals, as, throwing the paper to his son, he said

Read that, sir! and see what you would have allied us Randolph read an aococnt of the dishonorable failure of Messrs. Braine & Bell—an account which certainly did not extenuate aught. He read, and his beart grew lighter. This, then, was Annie'* reason,sho would not link him with dishonor.

Father.' he said, placing Acnia's letter before bim, 'read that, and do my poor Annie justice.'

Mr. Bryan-read it, and then was silent. Father, I ask you as a gentleman— what answer I should make to such a letter?'

Slowly, Mr. Bryan answered, but decidedly

You must go, my son, and bring her back witb you. Yoa bad best set out to-night.'

Aud you will welcome her, father, will you? Tbe fire flashed again.

You appealed to me as a gentleman, sir. Do you doubt that I shall act as one to a lady in my own house?'

Your laughter,' father No answer followed. Mr. Bryan had opened another journal—one day later —and his eye bad liuhted again on tbe namesof Blaine Bell. The journalist, referring to tbe facts given the previous day, added that a gleam of light had been thrown on the dark trans*otiou by tbe noble conduct of a lady connected with one of the parties, whose name was suppressed from respect for ber delicacy. Then followed an account of a meeting of the creditors of Messrs. Braine & Bell, at which Mr. Phenix. of the well-kuowu firm of Phenix & Co., No. Wall street, appeared, and, acting for this lady, relinquished t» the creditors property valued at more than fifty thous ncf dollars, wbich had been secured to ber.

See here, Randolph,' said Mr. Bryan, in t^is gentlest tones,

can this be your

Annie •Of course it is, father!' cried Randolph, exultingly,

her.'

WHS

this is just like

Randolph, I think I will go with you.' Six day8 were, as Randolph Bryan felt, wasted in the voyage, for time and space had not yet been annihilated, even for lovers. But tbe end comes surely, however slowly. Tbe calm atmosphere of a golden October day, when the air seems full of blessings,

around them as they sailed up th" beatiful harbor of New York. Mr Bryan was nearly as impatient now as Randolph, and when Annie first ap peared before bim, not knowing whom she was to meet, her white, sad face and spiritless movements appealed to all that was pitiful in bis heart, and won from tbe chivalrous gentlemau a tender courtesy that would scarcely have been yielded to the heiress and the beauty.

Annie is now tbe joy and light of her husband's home, as she once was of her father's and-Robert B*ll, who has compromised with bis creditors and re 8uned business, declares that be has no anxiety about her, and is||convinced that she owes her present happiness to bis brotherly care.

THOSE WICKED GIRLS. At Vassar College the girls continue in the hazing practices, different from the boys, to be sure, but bad enough in their way. On the arrival of the new !asa, they gather in the gymnasium three hundred strong, and, clothed in spotless white, starched to the stiffuess of steel, and sharp as an ordinary rxzor on its edges,and up against the remorseless chcvaux de/rise are gathered the poor Innocents, after first being Intoxicated with unlimited lemonade. Tbe bunging and tbe kissing once through itb, if any of tbe freshwotnen survive they are forthwith deported to their chambers, where the greater trouble of the night commences. Basins foam up terrifically with seidlitz powders when water is poured upon them. Unmentionable white garments sewed across yoke and arm holes refuse to go over bewildered heads, while from nnllfled transoms and key boles comes the suppressed tittering of amused spectators. Sheets, doubled up accross the bottom, render access to tt bed a feat of time and trouble, while crumbs of bread, or fine cat hair, scattered over the bed make lite a burden and tbe flesh-brush a luxury. And, finally, after all pre liminary troubles are passed witb many a sigh and tear, the sweet little maiden wakes from a troubled sleep, and, lifting red rose from white rose garden," st'res witb dilated eyes and trembling beart at the opposite wail, where, in letters of flickering fire, glows the awful mandate,

Minnie, confess thy

sins!" What does the innocent little creature know about phosphorus, in deed? or what of half tbe witas and wickedness which tbe first week must bear her through? Truly, tbis is shocking. Our feminine colleges must be reformed.

PROVERBS.

A virtuous person of hnmblebirtb is more estimable than a vicious person of rank.

Tbongh ther» is bnt little In woman advice, yet he that won't take It Is not over wise.

Great hearts should bo patient under misfortune, as well as joyful when all go» well.

He who only wears the garb of piety does less barm than tbe audacious^and open sinner.

I11 traveling from this world to the next tbe road is no wider for tbe prince tbm the present.

Modesty will become beauty, and cx cessive laughter, proceeding from a slight caose. Is folly.

It is a disposition natural in woman to slight those who lavs tbem, and love those who hate tbem.

Eu'reating is not running awav, nor Is staving wisdom when the danger overbalances the h»p*.

I Kltow men who wouldn't shave on Monday, but would blaek their boots. Then 2 know some who would sb*v* on Sunday, bat wouldn't black tbeir boots. And I kn^w of others who wotil ln*t do either f»a Sunday, but woul I shave their neighbors awfully on Monday, When I went to school I board#) wttb Dr. L*n«beln, and be was a good man, for an Icicle can be good. 1 00aId book down bis back stairs, go off bunting, return, and reC'tctmy lesson from a slip In my bat. Now, the bread that was left over at tnodommnnion service In ehutcb was sent o»#-r f«r Dr. I#»»gbe!»*» table, and

I iiM deceive

while I cxtld deceive bim as I have

die silently. R*ndo!| i. too, Hnn-lt^ld vou, I wmWnt eat a morsel of He, too, m* on tbe fsx4 that bread.—[Henry Want Beeeber. 3 8

tf'*'

WIVES AT A DlSCuU&T. It is said that wives ar» at a discount that fashion's follies bave made of wo^ men walking forms for the display of the products of the milliner and dress maker, and for the wonderful display of laoes and jewels made by tbem, they get in return flattery and flummery but no proposals for marriage. Discussing this poirt somewhat over- seriously, Harper's Bazar says:

Tbe blessed instinct-, old as human nature, of love and fidelity, of fatberod and motherhood, of family and home, are just as strong and just as siendtast at the root of the bnman beart to-day as when it first sprang from the love of the Father of all. Yet the world beholds the unnatural sight of women arraying themselves in ttiegarxitur* of fashion to delight the eves of men, and of refusing to be delighted of large companies of women congregating for pleasure, and of men refusing to join them instead, going off alone to seek happiness in their own way and by themselves. Now we all know that it is natural for men and women to seek pleasure in each other's society. If they do otherwise, it is because some abnormal condition has arisen between them to drive them apart. Marriage in youth, formerly the rule, is last becoming the exception. Once a young man's first ambition was to begin life witb a wife and bouie. Together thev worked to earn a competeucy, to educate their children, to go up and down the hill of life together. To-day our country towns and villages are emptied of young men, who have gone forth into tbe great world to seek their fortunes. These same towns and villages are crowded with unmarried women, growing old, aimless, joyless, and alone. Our cities swarm with young aud middle aged men, more or less successful in every avenue of life, who slowly, by degrees, have given up the idea of marrying altogether. Many of these are stereotyped attendant* upon fashionable laaies, chronic "society men." Many more are secial Bohemians. While eight melancholy maids cling to the arm of tho heroic man, hundreds of MI

splendid fellows" are

sailing away on yacbtiL "free as the winds that blow," pursuing mountain brooks, or camping oat in trackless woods in which feminine foot never dared intrude. More and more men and women are seeking their pleasures, their pursuits, their lives, apart. It is unnatural being unnatural, thecauses which produce such a state of affairs must be unhealthy and reprehensible. Are women in no wise to blame? We think they are. To a certain extent a mutual antagonism has grown up between the sexes. It springs from over self-awe. tion and selfishness in both. It can have no power to destroy ultimately their eternal relation. But it has power already to alienate their innate faith in, aud mutual dependence on, each other. Many "advanced" women forget that there can be no true progress for them savo in the company if. not in opposition to, men. Fashionable women forget that in ten thousand cases their extravagant display and exhorbltant demands so alarm tbe very men whom tbey seek to ploass that they make marriage and home with them impossible. Thousands of men bave come to believe that marriage to a woman means only a fat banker's book, a great house,equipage, spleudor, extravagance, money. Thus they say If they can not havo what their hearts call love in marriage, tbey will have what they can out of it. Mauy of tbem become ravening wolves, stealing and feasting upon tb« lambs of society. They turn into triflersor libertines, according to their natures. They mako and unmako unhallowed transient relations. They infest boarding-houses, lodgings, and clubs, and go down Into a lonelv, homeless, tiuttonless old age. All this because wives are at adiscount.

A VEXED QUESTION. A question lately came up before a young ladies' literary society, in New York, as to the propriety and adversibllHy of the time-honored custom of receiving young gentlemen alone in the parlur, and expecting the old folks to withdraw. The suhjoct was argued with so much earnestness on both sides, and excited so great sn interest, beingc rrled over for discussion to another meeting, that it may be worth while for other societies of young ladies to take It up.

The affirmative asserted tbst tbe antiquity and universality of the custom was, In itself, evldenoe of its propriety that young people were net left alone because they wished to do or say what might not be done or said before the whole world, but because ago naturally felt a want of sympathy with tbe frivolity of youth, aud liked to pursue its occupations undisturbed by tslk of events in whicb it felt no interest, or incipient love-making exceedingly uninteresting to all but the parties concerned.

The opposition declared that In all countries out tbis it would be deemed exceedingly improper that It encouraged love making that was never meant to be serious by giving it opportunity that young men would flna a chance to tell their own story if tbey wanted to bad enough that it was better for tbem, and placed girls in a more dignified and less embarrassing position, to introduce young gentlemen visitors to the family circle.

Whether the ayes or noes ll bave It remains still sn open qustion. In the meantime it is a good topic for discussion in young Isdies' literary societies, snd we advise a thorough ventilation of tbe subject.

MAX* of our exchanges are telling tbeir readers how to fit their home papers. Our young ladies know just how to do it. Tbey roll tbem up in, a wad pat a string through tbe wad, and then suspend tbern around tbe waiist.

CeaUtnr Llsinrat. The ctwat discovery of the sge. There is no pain whJeb the Centaur Liniment will not reii- ve, no swelling wh Cb it will not subdue, and no latnrneas which It will not core. Thl* IN strong language, bat It !s true. It to to nambag the recipe is priutIPW® ed srouo* esob bottle. A etroi containing e*»itlSc*te» or wonderful cores of rbeumatfsm, ttenraljds. Is«k-

meat will be *eot grail* «o any one,

tt Is the most wonder*nI hmltn* ana pain* relieving agent tbe world has ever produced. it aells aa no artle^ before did »eU, and it ieils

beeauae

it doe* just what pro*

fends to do. One bottle of the Oentnor Liniment for animate (yellow wrspjser? Is worth a kundml dollar* for sjwvined, strained or galled bor»e».aod males, snd for serew-wortn lo *i*ep No tsmily or stockowner ma afford to be wtitooot Centsur

n'TKi

t&SgZWJX

CMISTIS is more than unbsUtote for Owrfor oil. It is the omy (An sitJcfe ia exist* 1 -I wtole it Mtre to regulate the bov^v tire wit soJlc and produce nainrti It Is pleasant to take. iiildrs» ay ana mother* may sleepy