Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 5, Number 10, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 5 September 1874 — Page 2

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iiywiiflWii'iii^iPW'1

APAHSR

It nev«D*y» to wreck Jrtl fS? I* ch«Mpest bought «r!' tatnnMeloCsnai An

lot ana x*f «dt

Have kaa

(Author of "Lady Aodtey'a tteciwt," tie. etc.] •«». wf «jtt }i'* Sir," said Dr. Johnson, "Jlikoageod hater? Philip Rayner used to boast that in thin respect he wasa man alter tho groat lexicographer^ heart.

Mm WW A iBBiWM IHIIBv iw TOQIOy OPT* talnly, that great gaueit r*d-brteJt tram* •Ion, with Us wide, ghostly oaken etairease, where in the twilight it would seem mote natural to meel sewte phantasmal lady In a brocaded saoque, or khM withered gentleman tn powder and velvet, with sltk stockings rolled over his knsos, tbao enow»«or any modem flesh-«nd-hkod. emlare. »uch deep-tomd Oaken Wainsoot* such marvsds of wood-mrving over obscure doors and in BaweiEOSi isk* \-asland

darksome •ad)

ho oce^ted 1 think in (r that

w""1"1*"11

ARd rtrtke !,-: »V«1 Ml I th m4

Swloek in Boty

wr, WbO»hirk doom, krttwwqr^ MB* iu-ttttb tjokl ls_-

g$ts£i^wmW*

Formation

JSjot Oft «o»t#atui«trt tarings. It ne«*lli«:^f a btaatreftOln, ••«, a»

TbalnotM: iM.vitkit wr* The good an* »loi .«?»).. *#,,

A GOOD HATER.

^iZVfW.

tor atiSs x. k.

nev-

er forgiv never fbi tre certain graci in the teaching of our Safloorwnd treasured in the writings of St. Paul which do not quite l^jtuionixe with Sarnual Johnson's dictum—sentences which ineuicato an inexhaustible capacity for the pardon of wrongs, precepts which show

poor a thing it is only to love who love us. Philip Kayner have been very angry in those

early davs, If any onehad disputed his claim to the title of Christian. He went (o church once every 8unday—twice sometimes. when the aay of rest seemed especially long, and he had nothing bettar to do with his afternoon leisure and if he did «ofe listen very attentively to the voice of the preacher, or Join with any great fervorta tboritual, neat least offered a good example to the multitude by his well-brushed clothes, Spotless linen and dcoonw benftvfor. He paid ilia debts to the uttermost forthing, and was not altogether wanting in benevolence. contributing to certain old-estab-lished respectable charities in a fair proportion to his income.

The world in which he lived spoke well of Philip Rayner. He was a clever, prosperous young man, with a character unsullied by vice, an agrsowble personal

il UlUlt^MnUt JVMMg UIHIlj WVf T9 uv cu apt tooqatemplote ail things in their gravest* aspect. For the rest, ho was very happily placed in the world, being the only son of a wealthy leather-mer-chant who had carried on a prosperous trade for the last forty years in sotne gloomy old premises In the river-dis-trict beyond the Tower.

Hte father. had educated this only son upon a rough and ready principle of his own. No Eten or Harrow, no expensive anlwwstty education, no riotous career amongst the patrician ford orCainb eomtnstctel pursaits ami a qtu drum, middle-Glass life. Old Samuel Kayner sent his boy to a respectable mercantile academy, the principal whereof ww instructed to give bis pupil a sound onraiatile education. No perpetual grinding at the adventures of pi oos JEneas, no useless grubbing amonopl Greek roots, bat plenty ot book-keeping by double entry, a profound study of (are and tret and fhtniiiar acquaintance with factions. This was the kind of teaching Mr. Rayner demanded for his son, and the boy had it. His education seemed to hiui rather a dull busiM0MS altogether, but he went through it patiently enoogl*. aad finally emerged from the meroamtile academy ftrsi-rate arithmetician, a very lair French and German scholar and a marvel of excellence in the way of penmanship.

Philip Raynar's home life ftwtbe first five years after he left school was not particularly eheexffel. The old man elected to live, where htsfcrefethers had lived before him* In a big gloomy mansion adjoining the business premises of Raynor, Rayner A Sons. The brass plate on the counting-hoase door which bore this inacription nad been old and worn when Samuel Rayner a littie boy, and the Rayner, Rayner referred to thereby were two dry-as-dust brothers, who had worn snuff-oolcred small olothes. and snnfF^ol®Tf(d coats with bright bra«R buttons, and brown Goorg* wi»» on thoir elderly jbeads^ In the day* oftnegreat rebellion. They had traded in bkles when Ixrrsl lay the Tower eleao at hand, these departed gentlemen, ami now slept ride by sido In a queer little old idturchyard beneath the shadow of the great fortress, a burial* place that has long been shnt up. Philip Rayner used to stand at the rusty iron gate and stare listlessly In *t the nettlegntWMt gravec, eotnetffnes of a sultry •umiMrnpingwten be took his solftary walk* abro^, and wns soprfy perplexed how to distposo of his leisure in that remote cfty region.

overy dlroefcioai altofeiher for a ses, bat oh, such in •I'-r tr-ft m* twop«t*nient iv nttiettv, only adull warld,

id I to li u,.

*g"'n

J§

l*xmi mm

hard ttilng tbs* his tether had ooiintrY-hottSe, with

:i l-r a- 1 ahow-

»id sge,

dt#, wfit om

Hebe uv in th'* 1' if osws''1- -*»*, is you IfTtl n: von |o ,•• »n •qua «)v iiit -Mf WW"- «ndoai Hges 8oPb :. ,SK jpempons. s,

." '0!{

&aher*s point of view,

to think that it wa% after all, thai they had no [endid selmrfcfn man^iyn wild* or Richmond, heii too soon oung a man ys-—to have___

In aavinjHU»3iuve«tmen»a,

*r their own 3K his fisher had to thros^MliH

luuri^*

deep

down In his pock^ with a senae of sattaBwtSon when be resnea bered how UtUe he and his finther apent to their qil# fltty l|fc, *64 how much there was wit at interest and growing more day by day. tferoadthe mtfoey-articie In the TUnes every uaornia* directly oft. ter Ms Hither, stid the two disenmed the Mfte of things 06 «dtatt«s with ne*«r-Mling intep-

He grew In tisML too, to have a warm uklng for that gloomy ol4 house—grew to have priiu bachelor ways in advame of Ids yean^ andtothfnk ftra«teredTe?ylit: tie where a man ffved, so long as ho was comfortably lodged and wall catered for. it was not mean or sordid household by »ny means. There was a gray-headed old butler, who had been eustodian of the oollam asd the iwassive old plate fir the last thirty yeaw, ana who would have lala his hesd «c the blook in the adjawnt Tower, rather thaa eompronaiae the fijunlly dignity by any neglect of his duties there was a housekeeper of fabulous antiquity, who remembered the last hours of the last gnuff-opiojad aeatleman and there were a eonple of prim, sourvlsaged maid-servants of a discree ai keet

age, selected by tbo house-

r,their

wno, changoaa they might Individuality, never

underwent anv variation as to those two qualities of primness awl aournessL

There was no other woman in the little household. Philip's mother had died yean before, when he. was quite a small boy in brown-holtend pinafores, and with what seomed to his young mind a perpetual whoopingoough. She was dead. There was a portrait of her in an obscure room Qpouedebamber—a yiobanisbed there in1 the early days after her death, when the bereaved husband not endure to be reminded of his affliction, and which b*d never b*en restored to its place of honor. Philip used to look^at this portrait sometimes^ wondering what difference it would have made Tn his life had his mother lived. He felt that there would have been a great difference eomehowJbut oould not divine the nature of It. The fhco in the picture was a pretty face enough, itdr ana girlish and gentle, but to the son it seemed ef an angelic beauty. Perhaps this lecling for the mother, whose living presence he oould scarcely remember, was the one touch of romance in Philip Rayner's character.

He was thirty years of age, and hjul been his fethens coadjutor and representative in the business for the last ten years of his life. The fother was growing quite an old msn now, was subject to severe attacks Of gout, which kept him a prisoner to his arm-chair, much to his aggravation, and Philip was almost sole manager of the business. He consulted his ather day fay day, it Is true, but the consultation was a kind of formuTi, for Samuel Rayner's brain was beginning to lose its business faculty.

In a& these years since be had left school upon his seventeenth birthday to enter into the proud possession of a stool In his father's conntlng-house, Philip Rayner bad made only one friend. This was a young man who came into the office a little later as corresponding clerk, more especially for the foreign correspondeneet wiuch wss heavy in the house of Rayner, Rayner fc Sons. The lad was two vears younger than Philip, and was little morelhan a lad, fresh from a German university, when he began his commercial career. His name was George Tolson, and he was the son of a major In a crack regiment, who had made ducks iind drakes of a very handsome fortuno, and had out his throat one morning in a fit of delirium tremens, leaving a widow and two helpless orphans to fece a life which he had done his best to render hard for them.

Seme benevolent friends had come forward to help the forlorn woman, and the boy hod been sent to Germany, and elrl to

the girl tho rearing OT ora they had strtimtied ras able to

a semi-charitable school lor of officers' daughters so on somehow nntil to win a livelihood by

the boy was his Industry and the girl old enough to go out aa governess. Fodi

frteftd in woald have

rtofotw

«t playground at *l»w ^sstisfs in It rsth*

mat h' Htreete, wr •xvbtm

hritr-

been thai rsl^ «n»4

Tho mother had a

ging somewhere in an obscure street on the Sfcrwy skis of the Thames, and here George used to return every evening when bis office-duties were over.

The friendship between these two young men dM not arise all in a moment. Philip Rayner was by no means Impulsive, and Ueorgp Toison, tliough free and frank as thn» winds of heaven, was too prond to tnnko the faintest advance toward the sen of Ma employer. For Some time these two behaved toward each other with a supremo reserve, but they were th# only yowrtg men in the and llttilo bylittle the km melted, until acquaintance ripened into friendship. They had few tastes in commou. George Tofson was much more versatile, of a brighter and more joyous nature, than hi* master's son, tmt ttwy were both young, and that made a bond between them. Nor was this the only link. There wore droninsCaneeii In Oeorge Toh»n's life which awakened a keen interest In the mind of Philip. lie had dlsoovwd that George wm the chief wtpport and doveted ctrtnpanlon of his mother, ami ho envied Mm so tender* tie, so precious a duty, llo used to walk home with George mi skimmer evenings, now and then, and growing bolder and raoro fimiMar by slow dog consent'

degrees, would

by and by to drop ln upon the

widow and take a late cup of tea after his wmlk, or

power to help his

*nbst*nlisl manner, he it but he wa*still in

a state IMT t«telag^| ««^l «aatMi Rayner til ight he did quite enough in gH'iiW tuc yottng tnan a liberal salary. AH

PMllpMxntld do wss to testify his

tu tliat cotiftd do wss widow by mdk small gilts as be could a^nl fer tteomhoUMiinoat •••t her *ntHy-far»i«b«i lodging-~a ,.t«led Ua-serH«, a new chessboard and HWM. a isrt^of «nd so on. They WOfO trifling a ft intt veryjprecfcms to Mrs. Tulson, whofeaii not men ftwondhysuilitrt-

w^t

A ir!f*p". mm (1

wr«x«rsva«kni Mos,

tonfmn-

Hrs. hte Into the autunm even, v.ftv tlumlng to Hie misty cold spring nlghta, nd blsstered to «wy at every sttwi* eonier. 1 tn tb«oWelty tbey i! evening mmtd thon poshing their

Isbyrintn of brick and

SSj

^f——-

itiipwwwsauwiii Mgjj'

of that close narrow atmosphere into a now world—« world ot light, and air. and sunshine, that was brighter and fhlrer than anything he had ever known or dreamt of before. In plain words, Philip Rayner fell in love.

It happened one morning that the old dealer in hides took less interest than usual in the money-article, laid aside bis piuticular portion of the Times with along-drawn sigh, and sat gazing meditatively at the fire In so fixed an attitude, and with such a twit countenance, that Philip laid down his paper too aad looked at his progenitor wouderingly. "Is there anything amiss, fiither?" he

"No, no, Phil, .no nothing atuias, nothing amiss. The feet Is, rye had a

"Sinie Tory particular letter, I tfn panose T" tbeypungw inwi hiuwrded, anxiously.

Yes, a particular letter, Phil, In ft bond I never thought to Jee again in this world-—a letter from the dead?'

What do you menu* father "When I married your mot hef, Philip, It wasn't exaotly to be colled a love match, though 1 was fond of her then, and grew to bo fonder of her afterword, poor soul! But I had been In love before, and she know ». I waoin love with a first cousin of mine, an orphan girt that my rather and mother bad brouaht tip on charity. Yott'd laugh at tab, dare say, if I weroto tell you how I loved that girl, for such things sound foolish when a mauls old and feeble, with one foot in the grave. But I Catherine Marsh With oil tn Soul. The old people were our marrying at find, seeing criheW** no better than a pauper, ns tbev said, but they wottr fond of her lit state of their talk and finding that my heart was set upon the business, my

TERKE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

'IS THKItE ANYrinifa AMlks,' FATHER?' ITS ASKED

morUr to some healtliy hillside out north or rural-looking common in the south. Thoy were very llappy together, George lull of wild, revkless talk about lives that wero different froiu theirs— liw of adventure in distant lunds, lives in camp and on board ship, tossed about by the winds and waves,and in frequent contest with savage foes tho kind °f lift he longed to lead, In short, instead Of that drv-as-dust life of the countinghouse, which might go ou for ever, snd leave him no better man than lw was now. ••You get an incresso of salsry every year, you know, George," suggested the practical Philip. "It's not such b»d thing, after all. And il you stick to busincos, by and by, whcn we are both middle-aged men, I may be able tb give yon a junior partnership."

Yes, I know you'ro very good, old fellow, and tho governor is very good, and I'm altogether better off than I doserve. But you see I don't think I was intended for that sort of HPS. There's too tnueh of my tether's blood In me. If it hadn't been for my mother, I should have enlisted ever so long ago."

He looked very handsome ss he said this, with his hat off and his waving auburn hair blown off his forehead by the light summer wind. The two young men were silting on an old bulltliead in a deserted wharrabove the swif.-flowing river, a pleasant, solitary spot enough in the heart of tho great city, and a favorite resting-place With them after a long ramble.

Yes, he was very handsome, inanoble picturesque style. One could flmcy that the blood of fighting Cavaliers, rebellious Jacobite gentlemen of the old time, ran in his veins. There was an ardor and fulness of life about him not common to modern commercial youth. The bright blue eyes used to light up with a sodden lire when be was vehement, the flexible lips had a hundred mutations of expra* sion. He was a striking contrast to his friend in this, whose dark, good-looking face underwent few changes. A solid, square forehead, deep-set, grave, gray eyes, a firm mouth and a clear, dark skin wero the distinguishing marks of Philip Rayner's physiognomy.

A change came in Philip's- life soon after this—a change which seemed to make anew man or him. from which he afterward dated the beginning of another existence. It was as if a door had opened and shut upon all the life that had gone before, aud he had passed out

were dead against that Cath-

Settled. I Ouneierf snrywelftbe happlet* tnan In Christendom. Well, Phil, It's *a Old olory, and ootnaiott enough. She Jilted am. She never had loved me, I

PnroMi—who taught my

tfsfeooltososttsgl^l^ an Idle seapwaoe, with oothlog la bls firror hot hand* eoiuefttcttand a specious, taking man wpr.

Sm»van

itwty praiti

with him one morntent little note for me,

ilig* k*ring ft tosay that she bad turun! Ctatholic some time before, Khd that thoy had been fttanisd at the Hoouut C^rtholte cflaureh in Meor^elds.*' Mem. "Yon never coold forgive itvmrh*rr tm that, ®dhm-r'

Well, PhUL It was a hard thing for a man forgive, wawit Itf I was furious against her at first, and felt as if I could have killed hcrifahe had come

yJi o»'

hi tj **.

across my path in those daya. But little by little I got to think of her differently, remembering what a young tiling she was—only just turned eighteen—when she married that scoundrel, and recalling looks and words of hers that had hinted at some secret trouble weighing upon her mind, until I began to believe that she iuwl struft^ed ham to lw true to me and had often wantod to toll me all. So, yon see, It ended by tny forgiving her."

Philip

Rayner shrugged his shoulders

with au involuntary expression of contempt for his fatherrs weakness. could never have brought myself to do that," ho said,

Ah, yon tWnk not, PW!,1' saiswerod tho old man—"you think not but when a man has once loved a woman, her face Is always rising up before him, pleading to him to think tenderly of ke*% let h*sr have treated him aa bauly as she may. tt always ends with his forgiving her, Tho memory of tho days vWien he thought she loved him is too wuck "for his manhood. It always ends so."

It would never end so with trie/' muttered the young man, clcnching ha vindictively. **Nothing upon this earth conk! induce me to forgive a woman who had jilted me. But how about the letter, father, and wluit has that.to do with this old story

It is from her, Philip, from Catherine Marsh—Catherine Paroldi—tho last letter she overwrote. She isdead. Another hand tells me that at the end of the letter—her daughter's. She Is dead, and has left one omkl, a girt, the last of large family, all dead but this one. Paroldi took hor out |o tho West Indies, it seems, where they did w?ll enough for many years, but had much sorrow, the climate killing their children one after another the last of the flock lived —that was all. Then came reverses the man's health failed him, and ten years ago he died. After that the poor soul kept herself and her child by teaching. She was always a sweet musician, with a voice as clear and fresh as the skylark's, and I think it was that fellow's mnsie temptod her away from me. And so she got on somehow, she fays in her letter, till alio felt death close at hand and then, not having ono wealthy friend in the world whose bounty she oould ontreat for hor child except myself, and knowing that I was a good man, sho says, poor soul! sho turns to me, beseeching me for Christian charity if not for the memory of those days when I loved her—when did I not love you, my sweet, cruel Catherine?—to befriend her orphan daughter. She does not ask me to do much for the girl—not to adopt her or maintain her in a life of idleness—only to put her into some way of making on honest living aud to keep her from falling into dangerous hands. Tho letter came by hand this morning. The girl is In London. What am I to do, Phil You are the master now, as I take it. Whatever I save is saved for yott whatever spend is so much out of yowr pocket. Wnat shall we do with Catherine Paroldi She haa been ohristsnod %fter hor motlior—Catherinoi"

It is hard for a woman to get her living nowadays, Philip answered, thoughtfully—'*a young woman too, and a foreigner, as you may say. A girl's keep costs next to nothing. She might live here, surely, fiither. Mrs. Dorkln would trite good care of her."

Ye*, that would be well enough for the girl for the time. But by and by: she must get her living by and by, Phil."

She would be better used to English ways alter year or two, and you would leave her a trifle, I dare s*y, father."

I dont know about that it'a generous of yon to think of it, Phil." Philip Rayner waa not ungenerous. He liked the idea that the profits of the business were yearly Increasing, and that theri* was fnoney being sunk from tim?to time of which he must needs bo mawtet by and by. But he was not a wiser, and be did not care about ing money. His narrow life pled his Imagination In that respect. Ho Iind no yoatning for the frolics or pleas* tires upon whksh the spendthrift waste* the hard-corned thousands of Ids forefathers. [T« hk ooynNTiKtt.j ......

jut attendbad crip-

A WOOOMAH'S apostrophe!—Oh, lumber! from tho© we eat on thee wes)««p$ In houses made of theo we have our being. The gummy pine, tawny walnut, and gleaming mahogany are omnipotent. tin inftoey we iro rocked lira» »le cradle. In childhood wo «t» fed

aQt|

i^ve eternal

into us With an

years enep opon us,

wo pelt tho wrtwry boie-haft wi«i ash clubs hobble down tho baek ^retch of life on a hickory staff are killed by bam wood «riN*rrieep al tost with out fktherski rosewood **ket, while our souls "heave away" for theeveigroen woodlands of eternity.

country,

and sometimes by In-

iental modes of conveyance. Chi a journey for orders and col seem strange that accompanied

I shoul

|I'll tell you how 1 Lucy, that's my

darling's name—had been in poor health-An sovet'al' iuuutltt tn bs3timoieo, Shu h#d grievod^Mdl^ ever the loss of our only child, a year before, by scarlet-Ifcv r, and I had sufficient cavso for apprqhoosion lu her case—oUHliug kideed, to the love with which I cherished the bereaved and rowing mother. I had ftoooftiwttt"' he precoo-

|y prevailed upon her tho lug May to visit her parrots Xaahvllle, to pass the sumuyw there, w*lt for my autumn trip and return with me. 'j his ought to relieve me from suspicion of uxoriousnoss or impropriety in making a business tour accompanied by my wife.

I had happily roooweiod possession of hor tn so improved st«te of health that I had uo besttotioo In consenting to her wish to snare Willi irte tho ineonviences of country travel, country fitre and accommodations g»norally. She bravely.insisted that It would do her good and perfect her recovery, Ami ft was very soon manifest that it was doing so* She named to bloom with renewed youtli and constitutional vlgoraud enjoyed "roughing it" in Tennessee, I verily boueve, much more than I did. apart from the dear companionship I bad In her, and wnioh made every place a paradise. But, if I talk in this fkshion, some ladv readers will suspect me, in spite of my disclaimer.

I think it was somewhere in the lower part of Wilson county, that we stopped at & wayside tavern one night, and suffered the sragon we had hired at the town abovo to return. I know I had to go off to a customer in a neighboring village on the next day and that was tho reason we brought up at this rather out-of-the way place. It was quite coinfortable, though and I remember we bad a very excellent supper, which I enjoyed more than usually, for I had just obtained relief from a troublesome tooth, after having saturated the nerve and gums with laudanum frequently during the day, Indeod I waa not Insensible to narcotic effects, and anticipated a good, sound sleep, whatever might be the dormitory occommodotiota of the house*

We Went to bedlSfotti efRst nine o'clock. Lucy had WrervlotlitV up in the room and It&oraingly ws Vetired unattended. I jtist re«»nrte^ that upon reaching a landing «t we lop of the stairs, we turned a!mg* bassage and entered an apartrtc¥#t Which seemed to extend beyond *tt»e framework of the original house. Nothing however transpired to the slight danger self to bed \vlth perfect threw off my clothes with great alacrity, and was soon between tho nice clean sheets. I have an Indistinct recollection of hearing Lucy murmuring her prayers, dear, but I am sore that before she fame to "Amen," I was fast asleep.

Ah! if I had never awoke from that sleep I should not now be telling you the horrors of that night, or rather of the morning, which dawned In that roomr—should I But here, am. So it is net so,bad as it might have been.

I awoke—I had a semi-consciousness ot being awakened by something unusual—just in the grey of dawn. It was light enough to observe all objects in the room with sufficient distinctness to make them out very weil. I wss first struck with the fact, which I had failed to notice on the preceding night, that there was an open loft directly opposite the side of the bed on which I had laid, re ceding from the apartment at a height of about eight feet from the floor, as if extending oyer the ceiling of a room of lower pitOh than ours, adjoining. TO, this dim recess ray attention was attracted, and presently riveted, by the glare and flash of two large cat-like eyes, and immediately I was thoroughly alarmed by the appearance of tho entire head of some wild animal, which was cautiously lifted, as if for the puipoee of watching its prey.

It was not difficult for me to discover at once that I was tho object of Its unremitting gqpe but it is impossible to describe the strange fascination, with which those biasing orbs seemed to thrill every nerve in my body, and engage every faculty of my mind. I never in my life before realized how, intimately and in separably the sensitive agencies, of the physical and mental attributes of my being were intervolved and reciprocated. There was a subtle diffusion of the sense of iifc, by which one seemed to sympathise with the other—tho flesh to quiver

with apprehension for tho spirit, rit to shudder with an ai

awake—speak

atf,** soy* it^oolowd por

ter at the CSltakill Motmtain Hoaoe, beating at you? door at the early dawn. it ofitr' says ionos, jumtv othlng^slr," says the the house "Tho

"Well, what tag out of bed. .-vporter, "only WSfi notify guests to see tbe sight. "Tho

Tt is," says Jon*s jumping into bed again.'

"•4..os

the

Jrcad for tho trembling flesh. I had the deliberation to think upon the stranj emotional, distinctive phenomena whl mrsense perceived, and seomed almost disposed to philosophize upon tbem, when it occurred to pie as a solution of the whole matter that this was my first experience of rank cowardice. Indeed, I bod felt pale at tbe Ant pereMntion ot my danger, but was now aemsibto of

'ooper's novels,

of "catamounts," "pointers" nod other "Varmint" of tho ''Leather-stocking" experiences' and I longed for that same auto rifle wtoteh h*d done such good and timtilyservice upon Use fictitious occasions so brilliantly narrated by that forcltlle nonius.

Then I thought of Lucy-strange that I hod not considered-her danger before. I was lying, turned partially from he*, or from that side of the bed upon which I supposed her to ho, for I had heard nothing of ber since- her murmured pntyor^btttl dared not move or opeok —those glaring, merciless eyes wore a steadfast warning of the £)eri to whk,h I might oxrpomc her by the sllglitest indlseretion, I listened for her breathing. I could not detect tho least murmur— not a sigh. What if she should move—

1 I was tmnsfixed with

horror «t the bore thought. She would be tho victim and sacrificed by my pusllsoiimlty and iudecision. WHh this thought I involuntarily turned my eye toward* h£r, but was Conscious in & moment of* corresponding motion up there. Yes. Upon returning mst*»tiy to that object of dread, perceived that its paws were advanced to the very edge oTthe wall, and half of its body, Meek and shining, w*s visible tn the light into which it bad ot seemed to crouch for a spring.

nSsll

What shall I do? The question Is pressing and must be answered practically. I determined to leap from my bed and seise the first thing upon which

'*r

my eyas rested, suitabl*^ defense. The thought^ been matured into tho first Hon, but evo. afc|sS hftve drawn the room^^mn Bcatajfet af gn something smonajftt lhthe |ur, the next th^tev^^ra^iftrltohci' my throa|£-It position thit its warm fur was pressing my neck and chest, while its head seemed to be extended beyond me, as If Lucy had been the object at which it had aimed, and it had seised her in its ravenous jaws. Yet all was quiet. Tho thing laid still—motionless-rand so Jid I. Tiieia wis not a growl, not & sound, scarcely a sign of life that I could perceivo lt Joy there

OI$b¥ VhAt01»14bo|ho«aipe1strangeHow 1 t|e i|* o/ IbJ bftttolwas Mhifeifhy mwM. Another Object now appeared in that rocess-*-another bead, soil panther like, hut only by virtue of its arrav in a cap of panther skin. Two bold seafcbiug eyes looked over upon us, and gradually tho murslo of nfle was advanced, and a bead drawn upon the spot at which I knew the creature's head was lying. But there also lay the sleeping form of my wife and stmngeas it may appear, this intrusive ga» of fr stranger lost its oftensiveness in the sanctity of his purpose and the trusted accuracy of bis aim. I saw bis finger upon the trigger—an rely Ike must see Luay*~he will not hit h«r~a slight pull, a flash, a sharp report, and. I thrust tho 'bleeding, quivering, carcass trom me, and sprang from tho bod to the floor. "Well." exclaimed Lucy, "what is the matter now? Upon my word, John,- if you had jumped out in that way moment ago you would haw) made quite a spectacle of yourself for tho young girl who has just brought some hot wa»«r for ybu to shave with..

There stood Lucy in tho middle of tho chamber, fastening her corsets. It was broad daylight, and had been upwards of an hour. I turned and looked ot tho bed.. There vu no loft—no dark reoeas. Tt was a square, four-walled apartment, with «. flat ceiling. The room was perfect, as I now remembered It must have been to my view on the preceding night, or I should certainly have inspected such a recess as my fancy had conjurod up. "Then," says the reader, in the exceptive tone of one who fancies he has been imposed upon, "tho whole thing wss tho delusion of a dream."

If you please. Bat will yoa also, if you please, help me to a solutisn of it?1 I told Lucy what I had spue through iu tfe? IftSt fetff hour—as I slipped on

SftJd, "ybu havo been ly

ing inarvelously still In your agony. I must aay you bore.your impending fate —and mine too with commendable fortitude." "But," I exclaimed, and actually started at the moment, as I caught sight of the fur of an animal upon the bed, "whiit Is this?"

And I pulled from beneath tho clothes which I had thrown almost entirely over it, as I thrust them from cue leaping from the bed, Lucy's broad sable—a tippet spenoer, mantle, or something of that sort—I forget what she calls it. "How came this here?" I asked. "Why, I picked it from the floor, where it had ftulen last night, and threw it upon tho bed just now." "Upon the bed, Lucy? Did it fall upon me •.-irtw "I believe It did—somewhere about your shoulders." "Yes, and across my neck and cheek "Very likely, dear. But it certainly could not have bit you." "How long was it before I sprang up that you threw it there "Not a half minute. Immediately afterward. the girl tapped at the doer, said it would be ready In half an hour,

breakfast would be ready and she had a pitcher of hot water for the gentleman to shave with. I took In the water, tead the door shuttln, rather easily it made a little slam as put it to, and out of bed you bounced as if you had been shot." "Shot! Humph. Well, It to strange, altogether. I have read something of the philosophy of dreams, but never experienced anything of this sort before, Certain It is, that toy imagination must have conceived and adapted antecedents to the actual experiences of the senses. Your throwing the fur across my shoulder and throat was the descent of the animal but how the mind could have held that fact In obeyanoe. while the preliminary events were being devised and enacted by the Imagination throughout an apparently considerable space of times 1 cannot comprehend. Again, the aliam of4he door was the awakening cause but it was to my imagination the report of a rifle, which I bad seen deliberately drawn up to tho shoulder, leveled and fired*'' ''1 think I can help you to an understanding, my dear. That iaudanumyou took yesterday for your toothache must havo got into your head and you might have taken something else last night, while I was upstairs." "No, darling, upon my honor—" "Then, you remember, we were talking as we came along through the ojd woods about 'grisleys,' panthers,' and

•That Will oipimti. together with your sable, the subject of the dream, Lucy, perhaps, bat then tho philosophy of

"Why, I suppose that can be accounted for tv tho fact that you must havo trifle scared 1"

TUJIX££ AJtOUHrJ}.11

Hie other dav, on a Michigan Central train coming liast was au old lady who had never traveled a great deal. Sho wasn't used to the ways of (he book agonto, th© peanut boys, and the prizepackage nuisances who pass through train the pea Wg

every few minutes. When tho

nut boy came along and dropped a it into not iste tie ft witn suent contempt .6 Thb book Stout of tho window, came along and dropped she

African peasiot hor

lap she

shucked it, oponod her mouth and dro ped the kernel down, instead of reg ing it with silent contempt, or pitc

a book Into w9* "much

her lap. said sfc

boy came along and dropped: and she wondered bow the road coUlo afford to give away so much, When ho returned she haa opened if, snd w*as wearing the breastpin and eating the gum-drops. Tbe book agent came back and wanted his book, »ud before she Would give it up she called thoconductor to see if ft was all right. The card boy wanted pay, and sho appealed to the hgggsmnb W ben thd iKidetstood th&t KTwas right, she lionded over twentyfive cents, with the remark. WdU, ef I baintall-fired turned round. I wish I'd stayed tU hum." •*-. ife*

What Is love, Nannie?" asked a minister of ono of his parishioners, alluding, ofeourafc to the* world init« spiritual sense. "Hoot, fye, s!r!" answered Nannie, blushing to the enholes, "dinna ask me sic a daft-like Question I'm sure ye ken as weel as me that love's just next to cholera. Love Is lust the wont inside complaint for a lad or lassie to have."