Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 5, Number 4, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 25 July 1874 — Page 2

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l^IGUTED.

TVo

TtH

AW! J£

HOC

N«jv

Doii Bal Wb

rimg^Jkmn

Trnkmrt*#1"-'

JfB.i.n.h""*1 .'.• iMMlMt,

voa**eb

-mp-

orV

»mi ft- »jr

•iom mucI

W« Lot PH*1

To enact "Love We voutee,IM Bcvii «iunatil tc Got ton -..ine tin*

I sailed In at»d cat her oat

Now she's taken Jack McBride, Ibellrve it's all from plow^Threw hmi over once you know—

AUFFUST. a E S S S

the )ng |4oture gallery die- hi

r,f

h.jV prim*.

fi^t

w^»}' '-'•'W1

now

iom

i-••*,

li'.

i.- 9*1

Fin

talk (tad Isrts, I.

,,,i ,V« ,-h I -t •tW--

ny dew!

LatrotM it, two

hoop# gentlMpPn

tea laiifi 1 «»d ti al "iltere wi iv, ii this gal„ panea of fthickLhad been »miht over flrofc Ki^and and en thesunshineMione through it, It ir long gold and ami re ana crimson light* fld or. Dolly IhougM icvt «en anytJ4"ff

•9

clear.

k*v»»theme

inks

Ho ItU-H much Aui haU* old Every girl should marry On that my w» 1

heard

the

cri

Ho. i" •"*. wi'

«omW I do?

tjl i:11 •*.

wmnu. s«*tteh

Hates me so shell scarcely Oral Urace Church, Brown,and that, Pa w?n*4 mlntf expense at last, I'11 be off his bands for good

Cost a fortune two years P«*t* My trousseau shall out-do Sisude a, I've

carte blanche

from l*a, you know,

Mean to have my dress Orom Wortb!

The Face at the Window.

BY KtXA F. 5I06BY,

Author of the "Nameless Heir." CHAPTER I. Dorothea Mea«ingev-or Dolly as she -was often called—was born of Quaker parents. Bat Nature rebelled against h«r bring a Quaker, and threw out a red flag of defiance on her carmine-tinted cheeks and crimson lips as red and fresh as any poppy bud about to burst its green swathe. There was nothing undertone or pale about the little lac®, with its plump, melting, white outlines, framed in bv the richest dark carls,with a gleam or'two of alien gold through them where the sunshine caught them, the arched, well-defined black eyebrows, the long, silky, curling lashes that shadowed the peach bloom on the cheek, the deep dark, sparkling blue eye*, the dimples on the chin and the cheeks, and the tiny mote near the corner of the sweet red mouth.

Everything was, from the restless head to the tiny feet, foil of richness and color and warm vitality. And the child, from her babyhood up, obeyed nature's caprice. She caught at the red roses that hung over the old latticed porch, crowded at the golden waves of light on the tiled floor, and cried for the blue and red and golden flames on the wide hearth. As soon as she could walk and talk, she Wan to adorn herself with oorn flowers and poppies and wild briar rosea, and went aboufplping and carolling in imitation of the noisy drunken sailors who went by the bouse on their way to the pnblic-house at New Ipswich, until she quite bewildered the staid household with her inborn "wandering after the world's ways."

What Mis th*» child I cannet tell,', said the grave roe her, sorely disturbed, to her husband one night. **8he is brought up In a quiet and decent way, and sees none of the world's people, yet she tor ever cha&a at oar sober colors andsrave ways. "Thee must trust the Spirit mows, wife," said the fi&thcr. "She to but chila yet." yet I do not know how to answer her always. She is over bold to her talking. Yesterday morning, when I talked to her about wearing no outward adorning nor costly robe*, and told her of the meek and quiet spirit that aeeketh no flanntinsr hue*, aha held up her red andgoldcoi r*|j- |.| it, and said "Does not th«f*vink, ni"thw, the dear lord knewb f" Arni I wwtsilenced."

The ikther mailed: "Tb«-'- to too indulgentwith h*r wftvwnr«lnc**, motherr but in tn:©e-iiv.tho oniv child, had nothing to tear but the mildest of reproofe from either parent.

Only one member of ti 6ur. iy never gave fit outwardly to thfe pretty, coaxing wilfulness of the child, and that was Naomi. the black eook. Whether her temper

oral, the black eook. per had been soured

ted nappies that rolled and tnsdMsd te

U8es»ettm«a

the hoys wewt off to ftdt

trans for tlfee hsesa that

hnavw^w*' ttS? «M*taftandflMQU wolf-boond, Lakrap, was atom. Then Dolly reeotited tbetdd home Itself feast the portraits 1a

the

and

kUti

In life twfote, "t.d

would watch it tar houta. At last, however, slie was tli*r ti u:i. I in the following way one rvriiing, in deikttlt of a ter audience, her flsther and in,-tin': tiaving go to visit a :k n^hbor, she it uted to Naomi wonders of the beautiful •inn window in the long gal-

Naomi shook her head

11.1 groaned ominously. "Vou \u i! tvuwi to no good end there. n.niiig away from home ana

.o known whst sight* V"

•a Im tfc K«

I'd Of FMtrV !...• U. Y«, it* hardly tn

wliel vm It not? Woe iCot.* I my ihtorti

wife,

We -uH wellen

fv-*: 4

Wf -I-..1\\'•!

Bul lo* M.Utn Hwmyrtn*! liiiijy Imi'i tit Solitaire, N«^y made Mand* Hlntoo turn ..

Green with envy and despair. Her'* alnt half no nlee, you •».— DM I write yw.Bell^bout How she tried tor Charley, UU ,-

11 uis'

I've heard—" iti iv she

paused. oh, Nacanl, tell me what did you hear? Anything about the T,, 4utitu! window?"

Well, folks do say when Martha Saunders—she was my lady's maid before you were bom, child —came thr»ugh that long place twilight at All Hallow Eve, .-.im saw something right at that \V' lulow." lint what was it Didn't you know Oh, please tell me," begged the excited child.

Well, it was a great hairy fltce with horns and great fiery eyes, and she ran away. I guess Mhe wouldn't have gone roaming that place at night any more."

Now, Naomi," said Dolly, trying to look brave, "you don't want me to go there, and you are just tiring to frighten ino so, I don't believe It." Or perhaps it was a dog. and Martha was so soared she aid not see it Rood and the little Dace looked up very beseechingly, not willing to give up tier fkvorite place of aiuusoment.

Old Naomi's eves twinkled, for Dolly had really found the true solution of the story, which she had altered for her own purposes. Naomi was very fond of l)olly, but thought scolding on principle gooa for children, and was iu her secret soul very jealous of jolly Mistress Foote, However, she only replied, in a mysterious manner, "You'll see, child, you'U see."

So the next time Dolly came home from "The Cedars" earlv. After awhile Sir John sent for the Footea, and their two wild boys were put to a trade, and anew family of servants came to the hall to take caro of it, so Dolly did not go there any more.

..CHAPTER II.

Many years passed, and now Dolly was a young woman, as pretty, as merry, and truth compels mo to say as wilful as ever. Old Naomi was dead, and the fiither became more and more indulgent to his household net—his "rosebud set tilth wilfVil thorns."

One morning in the summer-time, when the winds were blowing low about the ripening fields of grain, and the wee brown J»tridges were piping to their shy mates under the waving ears, the father came in to dinner.

Thou wilt be glad to hear the news, Dolly. Our old neighbors—the Trecottricks—have come bock to 'Hie Cedars' to live."

Nay, tbou should'st not put silly thoughts in the child's mind, father. What will Dolly see of the Trecottricks?"

A low rumble of light wheels was heard out-doors. She will see one of them now," said Meesinger, glancing out of the low porch as Laay Trecot trick's pony-carriage drew up before the garden gate and a tall footman let down the steps.

The lady herself greeted her old neighbors In a kindly, cordial manner that won their hearts at once. "The physicians had recommended goats' milk to her to drink for her health, and they had told her that none so nioo was to be had as that at the farm. Would her old friends let liar stop here in her daily airing, and drink it every Kiornimg for the sake of old neighborship?"

They both assented warmly, gratified by the kindly tact that ignored any mention of payment, and Mistress Meesinger hastened to place her guest In the most comfortable chair, while Dolly ran for the milk.

There was a sort of faded rosiness about Lady Trecottrick that was pleas-ant-to see, a glimmer of lost sunshine in her light blonde hair and in her soft smile, a perpetual suggestion of some bygone youth and loveuness In the slight color in her thin checks, in her soft little ways of talking, in the delicate fragrance from ber siken dreas as it rustled along the walk, and the rings that glittered on her mail white handa, that had delighted Dolly at once. The lady, as she leaned back In the old chair and drank daintily of the foaming milk, looked no less admiringly at the fresh, rosyvouvtg countenanoe before her, Soe smiled as Dolly watched the flash of her diamend ring, **Yoat eyes are brighter than all these

gems, my child." "Kay, child's

hard experience

or the milk of human kindness bad natwas never found out, She .. Jead winter and

mmmer

in a half a down different cokved band kerchieft, rolled the whites of her eyes portentously, and called evety occurrence, from the long dronght to the earthquake that jarmi the earthenware on the dairy shelves, and the death of the Cheshire sow's first brood of ptgu, "a judgment If Dolly scratched h«* Angsts In the blaeklMffirjr boshes, or tore her dressagalff** the r»»«s4t was atwavs greetedhyNa^ml w^i, an awf\ilshake of the head and the muttered aasnranoe that tt was a judgment on her wicked

But Dolly soon a fkvorite resort in an old place a of a mile away —"The Owiaiw,** betonrfng to Sir John and Lady Louisa Trecottrk-k, who were »«w residi»g la Nsplj*. Joseph Foote, Sr John's butler, took care of the and grounds in his absence, and tt was in his fkmily theft Doily found Inexhaustible wMHilstfcm and delight when oppressed by Naomi's woeful predk44pn*or her Mother* grave nyvoofe. Hhi wifoL a Irtly, huxom old daeb, had no dasohtera, and aaaAe agrertpetof DoUy?oalthat«ngralelM M&lennoni«e fcond her hlgh«s» sitraatloM fivided between her rod and white eaady

friend, thee must not tttrn the head," interposed the inoth

er, gravely, while the Jkther smiled. "Thou art too fond of the world and the world's wealth now, Dorothea."

The lady looked at ber with a sympathetic, half-caressing smile: Yoa are fortunate to have a danghr. One hi very lonely without children," and she sighed wflly.

Dame Mesdnger's brow cleared, and die locked up with all a mother's ready interest.

Yes*" went on the lady, answering the inquiring look—"yes, ihave a sonAllan—and a bonny lad he is tec, but he will never settle at 'the Cedars' unless he marries. He to st sea now. You know Allan was always fsnd of adventure and changit when he was a boy." «Jfav, all lads are," said thedaaoe, eoneelfttgly. "But you can keep your daughter st heme with you. I always wished for a girl, for I am very kamely when ffir John linot at home. Cannot you spare me your danfhter sometimes T" a»d »b« nulled aft the eager look tn the girl's eye*.

The parents answered wvas«*ely, "Hbe is our only one, them fcnoww*, thy son and If she marriea, thee knows we must give b«r for good and all, we are Mn to ke«p hernow." lady raae and hi day, to her soft, yesllft ton«*: "Bat yon mart eorae to me now and then, pretty child. Nay, never bttufc so, little one. I trust yen ate a good ehildtoo, and that la better J" 9o with robe, sod her kindly smite, the lady went away.

mgoodBat you

And Dolly resolved to herself that ane would

to **tfee Oedam" again to see

the sweet lady who wsa so Mien alone. She knew her parents would not long wttiutfaad ber coaxing* and bad she not

fERBE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

1 "on. THBRK HK 18, THKRE!"

place ever sinco alio was a

loved the child?

CHAPTER III.

It was not verv long before Dolly's wish was accomplished. Oue morning the ponv-carriHgo stopped longer than usual at tho farm and when it left, it carried two oecupants. For the court would sit several days at New Ipswich this term, and Sir John would necessarily have to remain there during the whole sitting. "Surely her old friends would not refbse,*' pleaded the lady, in her softest tones, "to lot Dorothea beguile away a few hours of loneliness and tedium for an old woman? There was no danger, if they were afraid of that, for the servants were well armed, and

fAr

John's wolfhounds were proof against a regiment of men. They were always unchained fn the hall when Sir John was a way."

So at last the parents rather reluctantly gave their consent, and Doily went off, sparkling and blushing with the unwonted excitement and pleasure. "I lancy you will think my room pretty, Dorothea," said my ladv. "You liko bright things, don't you "Oh yes indeed," exclaimed Dolly, and the lady smiled affectionately.

It is the old picture hall, I chose it because of the colored glass window there. Sir John declares I have had the bid house pulled fiiirly to pieces to make it, for one partition hao been thrown down and another built up to make it the proper size. I dare say you would scarcely recognize it now." "The painted window!" exclaimed Dolly. "Oh, I should surely know that! I used to love it so dearly until—" Here she paused.

Until when asked her listener, somewhat curious. It was only an old story my nurse told me when 1 was a child and used to come over to 'tho Cedars' to play," explained Dolly, half ashamed. "It was about one of your ladyship's maidsMartha Saunders, I think—and a hairy creature she saw looking in there one llallowmass Eve, but I dare say it was only a dog, after all."

Lady Trecottrick leaned back in her chair and laughed softly: "Yes, it was only one of our hounds. Sir John had just gotten them then, and some one was so careless as to fasten him out on the balcony. It was before the colored glass was put in and when poor Martha saw the creature glaring in at her, site was sadly frightened. I remember none of the maids would go through the galleries for a month afterward. But I should not fancy that you would be easily frightened."

I should not bo so now, my lady," replied Dolly, stoutly. "At any rate, I trust neither of us will be tested tonigiit. And here we are at 'the Cedars' at uist,"

The day passed away very quickly for Dolly, for Lady Trecottrick played very sweetly on thenar)! and still sang with much sweetness *»f expression. Then the portraits wero to be seen,—a new one of her son, Allan Trecottrick, which was a very handsome, spirited-looking picture, with his mother's blonde hair hair and sweet smile. Afterward tho conservatory was explored and when the night set in rniny and dark, Lady Trecottrick amused herself by relating to ber eager-absorbed listener seme of the fetes she attended in Naples.

There was one given by tho Count de Florae, to which I was to have gone as an English peasant girl—a gleaner— but the costume did not acaord with my coloring. I fancy it would just suit you, Dorothea will you try it on

Me Oh, my lady!" exclaimed Dolly, In surprised delight. "You wont think It a sin to wear bright colors for a few minutes? But no, I am sure Nature never meant you for a Quaker and she rang for Felede to bring her the ftuicy costume she first ordered forde Florae's ball.

It was brought up, and felede exerted all her skill to amuse her lady by arraying Dolly. The suit consisted or slower skirt of a delicate corn-colored *41k, embroidered with intense scarlet poppies, greening leaves and cosn-flowei*, with oar* nf wheal here and there. The bod* di" is upper skirt were of the richest black velvet edged with creamy-tinted laces. A cluster «f poppies and corn* flowers formed a breast knot, and the jewelry was of coral carved in beU-«hap-ed gpnrra of flower*.

Dolly's dark hair curled, and it was let down over her neck and shoulders behind, though drawn away from her brow and templca tn front, only a few light airy tttris escaped here and there, ami gave an indescribable archness to the expftwkm of the dark eyes underneath. Lady Trecottrick dapped her little hands softly, and Ftolede exclaimed to her In French,

UBHU

a to iserrrW*,

otofaawnt ractfrttNte" Just then the richly carved etack on the high mantel little witch T* exclaimed lady iWHtrick,

Mhew

test you bava

made the time fly to*nlglitt But for the doleftil sound of the wind and rain. I could almost flawy myself In dear Naetes again."

A tow rattling notes was lMiard, as if

someone were at the hall door, and instantly the deep bay of tho wolfnounds thundered a long a terriflo response. Felecie turned white with fright, and dropped laces and feathers on the floor indiscrimately.

Don't you hear, my lady It is the hounds. They surely hear some one," exclaimed Dolly, alarmed.

Fie, my little heroine! I thought vou were going to l»e so brave, child. It is only the rain and the wind."

Dolly glanced furtively around in tho dark corners of the great room. Come, FeJocie, finish the grand toilette," pursued my lady. "See! some of those buff ostrich plumes there—the very smallest and lightest. Now that spray of scarlet poppies and thesa long buds. Ah that is perfectand the lady stepped back a few puces to admire tho result of her directions.

An unmistakable shower of blows descended upon the great oaken doors of tho hall, and again, in spite of the roaring wina. the frightened women heard the deep DOSS growl of the hounds.

Felecie screamed wildly and wrung her hands. Dolly turned white as the linen sheets, but still Lady Trecottrick laughed: "Pshaw! they will never get in there. I dare say those la*y servants are fast asleep, but the hall doors are sure and then there are the hounds. Nobody dares meet them at night."

The noise at last ceascd down below, but an ominons sound was heard on the side of the house. "Oh, my lady, my lady, the balcony windows!" and Felecie went off into hysterics.

Some one was climbing up the wall, and there was only the slight fastening of the windows—three of them along the balcony—and by either one an entrance might bo forced. Lady Trecottrick's courage gave way at last, and her shrieks wore as loud and as many as Felecie's.

Oh, there be is, there!" she exclaimed, wildly—"at the window," as the dark outlines of a man's form grew plainly defined against the glass.

Dolly kept perfectly still, though her heart had almost stood still with fright. But she instinctively felt that everything depended upon her coolness and !br

resenoe of mind. She looked round a weapon. It was useless to ask a question of ber weeping and terrified companions. She would not run away and leave them, even to arouse the men. That would take too long. At last she saw a little Venetian stiletto richly carved and set with jewels and seising it in her hand, she uoldiy advanced to the window and throw back the curtain, amidst tho renewed shrieks of Felecie

She's going to let him in. Oh, my lady, she will let him iu she has betrayed us." llut to her own amazement she was grcoted by a hearty fit of laughter from a handsome young man of a sllghtl foreign air, who, with a low bow, an raising his hat. said, "If mademoisselle would do me the honor to unfasten tho window? It would be fkr more comfortable within, mademoiselle sees and he looked with a shrug at his dripfmm which the rain was streams. as Doily, amased, though decidedly reassured at the mischievous smile that accompanied the words. "Allan Trecottrick. at your service, fkir demoiselle," but as he pronounced the words, Lady Trecottrick recognised the fiunlliar tonos, and exclaiming, "Oh, Allan, Allan, howconld you frighten me ao?" rushed to admit the invader herself. An explanation soon followed, and at hurt even Felecie returned sufficiently to her aenses to arouse the servants and procure refreshments for the young traveler.

tuia ne iookhi wiiii a nurui plpg garments, from whici flowing in a hundred tiny a

MButn

who aro you?''

Why, I thundered at the hall door till I thought the panels would have been broken in, and shouted till I was hoarse, and then I thought I should try my hand at climbing, and so, me vot/a f* and he looked up at Doily with undis* suited admiration.

Lady Trecottrick was too much charm ed at his arrival even to dwell upon her fright or Its possible consequences, and beamed with smiles on every one.

It was late at night, or rather early in the morning, when the household retired to rests and when Dolly proposed next day to return home, as Lsdy Trecottrick would not need her now, the nan negatived it so warmly that at last his mother, who thought Allan perfect in everything, decided It would never do. and kept her ai "the Cedars" for the rest of the week.

After she left, Allan found he had a great natural taste for fitrming, and went to consult Mr. Meesinger so often that that worthy gentleman began to wonder what change had come over the lad: "Such a hansm-scarum boy to grow into ao aenaible a youth. I cannot quite understand it."

Dorothea did: but though she smiled and blushed, she wisely said .nothing, and looked down at for sewing in*lenoa.

When Allan at last avowed his inten-

first, (or this only son waa their idol and pride, and they understood that only

of the world's ways, Dorothea." said ahe, soberly, "snd IJbar much for thee, child. Friend Ephruiin Straitenough is a godly youth, and will be the better husband for thy soul's good." I But Kphraim lived at a dfc» I tanoe ef twenty milea, and at last even she consented to the father's oft-TtfR»ted argnmcaif ~*«rhe

Odaia' is so near our home that thee might see thy child every dav, and thee knows she hi our only oue."

So the lovers marsisd at last. lira. Allan Trecottrick kept her wonderful bloom and frftthness to a ripe old an, and wasfor many yeara tosatea as the first beauty of New Ipswich, even when her first youth was gone. But Allan never admitted that she eMtftt look as lovely as when she advanced wjth a pointUsM stiletto i/i her hand, her cheeks flushed and iter eyes flashing, to repel the supposed robber.

Moreover, there is

was so deep as to necessitate a swimming feat. Hie Judge being a man of vigorous and invincible determination, no sooner realized this emergency than he promptly dismounted, undressed himself with great dispatch, and attired only in his liigh plug hat- and a pair of spectacles, bestrode his gallant cob and urged him to the veil lure.

After a desperate struggle the other side was gained, and the Judge again dismounting, this time with a profouhd sigh of relief, was about to resume his integuments, wheu the horse, prompted by some dlaljolical spirit, started from his side and trotted slowly down the road.

Of course, the Judge had noreoourse but to trot after him and thereupon ensued one of the most remarkable and picturesque chases ever known in history or tradition. The home appeared to have no motive save that of keeping a certain distance ahead of the Judge, and of finding some comfortable barn-yard where he might refresh himself after such gigantic efforts. The Judge, whatever may have been his ambition, confined himself to the effort of keeping the truant beast in sight. It must nave been a cheerful and Invigorating experi ence to see the Judge trotting briskly along that smooth and sandy road, his venerabie plug hat pulled over his eyes, and Ids spectacles bobbing up and down over his nose. The chase was long, and the moisture of great exertion would gather on his brow, and then, when he reached around for his handkerchief, alas 1 it was not there. All of which hac the effect of impressing the Judge with his very peculiar and unfortunate situation, and imparting renewed play and lightness to the legs.

So the two bowled pleasantly along, preserving a steady relative distance, until just as the setting sun was reddening the distant bills, and touching the Judge's manly form with gold, his horse wisked suddenly into agate and bounded with eager haste toward a stable dim ly visible the distance.

The farm house Sat in a grove of trees whose shadows made a great darkness round it, and from this grove, as the Judge was scampering furiously after his horse and wardrobe, there issued sundry yellow dogs, surlV of mein and shaggy of appearance. The Judge felt thatit would be utterly impossible, under these circumstances, to assume that nuyosty of aspect and fearlessness of ga*e which is currently believed to be the correct tiling with dogs, and so, ing a friendly gate post near at hand, gave one wlla bound and reached summit just as the leanest and fiercest of the dogs snapped viciously at his legs.

iSi

would ooaflimt hk reaction with ijMlpjluiet

o#xiBg^4jgM|soon

coasuMtl o#|gif*J*ther to

A TENNESSEE

{From

sy^psfoial

tradition

that Dorothea ever regretted

not

marrviuK a Quaker.

aiMMMl-J

.... „, FIG USA VES WA NT£Jk:t,

Saied Justice

a Gate PQ*L*

he its

When the uproar had subsided, and the Judge, realizing the absurdity of the situation, had regained his customary frame of mind, a female voice Was heard calling from tho house

Who's there?" "A fellow creature in distress, lllftd am."

Where aro you?" "On tho gato-post," said the Judge, begining to eiiioy the joke. "What can I do for you?"

It was too much. Tho Judge's old humor and quizzical love of merriment came over hfm.

Call off these dogs, and bring me all on the pMrr."

SELFISHNESS OF LOVS. The selfishness of a oertain dan of commonplace people when they fell in love, Is something little short of terrible. From the moment the doves havo declared their fondness for each other, and taatter* have been comfortably arranged so fkr as parents or guardians are concerned, they practically alienate them Helves from the majority of their kind. Place them In a room and they will sneak about together, show that they are not interested Iu yon, that, in feci, they would be glad If you were out of the way, and demonstrate, by a countless number of whispers and geaturee, that they have numerous secrets which yon have no share. At them time tkeir impression appears to be that they are among the most important beings In the utSverse, and thai they are doing that which to remarkable, and should command the sympathy of all those whom they treat cavalierly. Before marriage they see each other as often ciivuinstances will permit after wedlock they are in the habit of working themselves up Into a perfect fever of excitement if they lose sight of the flue they love for snore than five minutes at a time than they are compelled to. In most eases this sort of thing lasts only for season: in others It endures through 1Mb. The actors rarely seem to imagine that they are in the habit of warning much valuable time so long as they live "respectably," and do not put their bands into their neigh bors' pockets and steal therefrom, they evidently consider they are quite doing their duty. Philosophers have exe now stated that love to unselfish, but, as a matter of feet, Its influence on character is often the very reverse,

The sceue^nuutorw "to coun»of Tunics, tha^oaW^WnWfiWf^ tho river of the State of Mississippi. It lies next below the Tennessee line. The county seat is Austin, a pla» of modest prctenstons, lying nice and snug in tho bend of Uie great river. The clerk 6ad master of the courts is a young, economically Inclined gentleman, n«met C. W. Dumwway. If® is tfurtfeR rwhile Mfe Denobuica is the heroine.

The way tnev eamo to ixreraonored of

gr«wiff flveiriofo ma|dt£is!no|recorded but one must h.ive Happened. He surely went in wit ihe thotigh&of. £I- it J.»u» .,r nirly it 4COrsOOO,

It's

wni

vajo

i' w» iv«et rose in June.1*

Or else th«* not, as hey did on TuMday l:i-4, haw boarded tho steamer hit Allm. in company with some twenty of th.: friends and relatives, for a trip down to Friar's \-i sit and back.

It was at Helena, 4* the boat passed on her way down, that the Rev. Father Shannon, a Catholic divine, was invited to join tho gay oarty and while the vessel ploughed lier way through the waters the good priest was requested to perform the rites of matrimony and join in the holy bonds of wediock'Miss Denobuica, and her future lord, Mr. Duanaway. It was a nay thing all round, and when the ceremony ended, half a dosen hours or more wera spent in wine danoe and general hilarity. Towards sundown tho boat landed 011 her return at Austin, where the mo^t of ttfc com-

Our old friend, Judge Tom Farrar, of Lake Providence, says the New Orleans Picayune, who is known throughout the Stato as a lawyer and jurist of eminentabiiities. and a gentleman ef moat lovable character, tells at his o\s-n expense, and with the keenest gusto, a story which we think too good to lose. 11 appears that some years ago, while riding through one of the prettiest districts of North Carolina, he came, about sun-down, to a creek which

Earked.

anv including the bridegroom, discm

The fair heroine and young bride, being just sweet sixteen, had during all the day's festivities been under the esnedal guardianship of a watchflnl aunt. In company with this worthy relative slm remained on the boat, separating from her lonely but not disconsolate lord. She came on- to this city, whence she proceeded by rail to Ohio, where for the next two years a convent will be her abiding nlaoe. At the end of that time, having finished her education, the doors of the convent ore to be opened, the spouse will be found near bv, he will embrace his happy wife, and without providential interference will then$ eeoort her to a home he will provide, over which she is to preside as mistress for her remaining days.

It is to be hoped that the honeymoon, which sets in two years beyond the wedding day, will bo all the merrier and happier when It begins, and that the old adage about changing the name and not the letter, will not hold good in tiio present instance. In feet their friends wish them along life of unalloyed bli&s, and may they always prosper.

BATHING AT LONG BRA NCH\ [From Correspondence New York World.] As for the bathing, I have made closer study of it than tnost of the chroniclers. In the first plaoe, I am myself a bather. I say this with honest pride. I have watched the sand and the waves at all hours, and the bathing is, I am compelled tosay, more or less of a sham, Nudity is allowed by common consent an early hour in the inorning for disporting. At that hoar It is understood that venus herself will stay away from the water. But at that hour, for three oonsecutivo mornings, the Colonel and I have had the two miles of sand to ourselves, save two or three sun-burned urchins in striped stockings who were digging their way through to China with little trowels. Heaven be praised, nobody saw us enter. We cast our last integument on the sand and plunged in. We examined the undertow, scrutinized the bottom, left the ropes behind, dashed out overhand beyond the surf, and shook our white, gleaming arms at something that lookod like a French maid in a summer-house.

In the afternoon como from tho Ocean House six or eight tender minxes with bundles, looking cautiously behind them. They pick their way down tho steps, accompanied by their guardian of safe and proper age, and are watched from the bank by their mother and aunt in evening dress. There are at this time no more than fifteen people, all told, on the whole stretch of sand from Sandy Hook to tho West End. The minxes disappear in the disreputable shanties that are meant for dressing cases, and presently they emerge in woolen blouses and "pants," holding each other's hands and emitting little screams as the soft, white sand touches their tender feet, and looking around to

that nobody is

photographing them. One can see their fragile bodies shiver, even from tho top of the bank, when they step, with bated breath and anxious looks, into the white spurao that is rolling and foaming up the beach. Two or three steps and they are ankle deep in the ocean. At that an amorous wave swollen with desire, makes at them. They see it coming the clasp of their hands tightens: they take a deep breath the defiance or their sex Is in their eyes, but the weakness of their sex is their vertebra, and they bend their knees and bow their heads, and the ravishing element breaks over them with a wet embrace, hugs them a moment in foaming paroxysm, and then goes broken and bellowing to fling Itself In reckless delight upon the sand where their feet had trod.

RARLYAND LATKLOVK

If I were asked, writos Miss Muloch, at what period of a woman's life she is capable of the inteosest love, the sharpest grief, I should say It was in her teens, when she is supposed too young to understand either, and late in life, when people think sne ought to have done with both. Chiefly because, when young, we can scarcely take In the

ture when old, we know that for us the fature exists no more. Therefore I am much more sorry for girls and middleaged women, when "in love," as the phrase is, then I am for those In the prime of life, to whom that very feet brings strength and compensation.

TirOSO UGIIL EXPLAINED.

Here now," said the policeman, as he separated two fighting women, out on Valley street, "Here's enough of this, what do you mean by it?" "Musha, thin," Hid the one with the red hair, "this wur the cause of it: Sejs she to me, sea die, 'That's a foine morning

Whoop It

Pbwat 1V

and then yes come along, and' that wus the cause of it. "—Burlington Hawk-

How

Kkkp Fiuksds.—Don't let

them get in debt to you, for if you do and ask them for it you will be very apt to have the experience of the man who these Bos: |'l,~ 1 had my mocey and my friead^i

I lent my money to my Mend, 1 asked my money of my friend. I lost my money and my friend."