Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 5, Number 43, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 24 April 1875 — Page 2

TUB-MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

OLD COA T.

Old OOAU, for tome three or four seasons We've been Jolly coraradus, but now We part, companion, forever

To fate and fashion I bow. You'd look well enough ui a dinner, I'd wear you with pride at a ball Bui I'm dressed to-night for a ddlng,

My own, aud you'd not do at all. You've too many wine-stains about you, You're scented too much with cigar*, When the gas-light TUIIIH* full on your cola

It glitters with myriad stars That wouldn't look well at my wedding They'd seem Inappropriate there, Nell doesn't use diamond powder,

She tells me It ruins tlie balr. You've been out on Cozzen's piazza Too laie, wheu tho eveulngh were damp, When the moonbeams were silvering Lro nest

And the lights were all out In the camp, You've rested on highly-oiled stairway* To* often, when sweet eyes were bright, And somebody's bull-dress—net Nellie's—

Flowed round you in rivers of white. There's a reprobate looseness about out— Bhould I wear you to-night, I believe, As I come with my bride from the altar

You'd laugh in your wicked old sleeve When you lelt there the trembling pressure Of her hand In Its delicate glove, That is telling me, Klyly but proudly,

Her trust is us deep at her love. So goto your grave in the wa-drobe And furnish a feast for the moth, Nell's glove shall betray its sweet secret

To younger, more innocent cloth. Tis time to put on your successorIt's made in a fashion thats new Old coat, I'm afraid It will never

Bet as easily upou me as you.

[From Harper's Magazine.]

The Judge's Daughter.

BY THE

ACTHOn

Bummer has come, royal if transitory, bathing the glad earth with sunshine which exhales the fragrance of balsam, the breath of flowers, and the mingled odors of the forest's veiled censers. Below, the river Penobscot rolls swiftly down to sea, and the schooner Betsy ride* at anchor^off Lake's Wharf.

Jacob Lake comes hastily up the tiled path, after loitering irresolutely at the gate. l)or iy must conlido in somebody this summer morning, and she smiles bewitchingly on fascinated Jacob. Why not? Jacob may not presume to her good graces, but she can smile down on him,

for

EopclOMs

lain, and mean, devours her with his gaze he* sees not the canary •lip, the dainty shoe, the monstrous i, i...» ti.» graceful form, the limpid blue eyes,

comb, but the pliant, graceful form, the rounded white arms, limpid blue eye®, audacious and tendor, the tendrils of silky ourls framing the oval face, and the tempting mouth with delicately curved red lips. Yes, and he adores the foot within the slipper with the most slavish homage of man. The light in Jacob's pale -eyes grows fierce, even cruel, but he droops the fat lids submissively.

You will be elad to hear I've made my fortune on that cargo of steel from England, Miss Dorothy."

Site bunds her head like a lily swayed by the breeze.

Yes, I am glad. You roust not think too much of money, though, Master Jacob."

441only

think of it for what it will

bring," he protests, eagerly. But Dorothy does not oare to hear what money will purchase for Jacob. Her lip curls slightly she is tired of playing with her mouse.

Here is a damask rose for you," she says, languidly, taking oare that her slender fingers do not ootne inoontact with his coarse palm.

To morrow is my birthday, and my fether will not tell me what my gift is to be. Oh, I forget!"

She dnrts away sans eeremonie, and disturbs and old woman among the jam pots of hor pantry. This old woman is chiefly noticeable fbr a black silk pokebonnet, which she dons when she rises at dawn, and doflfc only when she retired. Hence there is mystery to the

JudgeAil

oath mind in the bonnet or Serena, Cottrell's housekeeper and Dorothy's nurse.

Guess her head runs up to a pi'nt!" chorus wondering childish voices and •very baby born for the past forty years at Indian Point ha* stared at the grim head-gear, ornamented with a stiff bow on top, like a door-knocker. Rumor is divided, Serena being reticent on the subject, between the theory that she faara draughts and that she never intends to be taken by surprise and scalped by Indians. However, here she is among her jam pota, golden gooseberry, luaoioas plum, and aromatic quince, stored by this queen bee fbr the sterile winter, absorbed in calculating the ravages made bv Judge Cottrell'sguests on bar last autumn'sharvest. Dorothy dees not mind the bonnet. She knows that within the rim there is frilled cap inclosing a foce like a dried walnut, all nose, and two twinkling kindly eyes leading straight down to the best heart in the world.

Serena dear, remember yonr promise. Yon have always said I should"* now about my mother when I was eighteen, and see nor room."

No, I didn't 5 and If I did,it was only to kinder keep ye quiet. I shan't show yeorXell y*nothin\ La, ohild, what's fee coed Let the dead rest."

Of oourae Serena has risen and token a kev from the carved chest with brass handles. She always pretests while yielding.

Deroth]

hy% free grows tender and wlat-

fal as she crosses the threshold of a chamber kept locked all her life. The Cbttxall homestead isibs finest boos* on Use river, nod the builder is justly proud of his polished sUirway, wainscoting, embra»ured ^^o^aad high «bimney-pieeM carved with patient skill. _--l tos a (iriii jftMirabii

tiere Is massive piste on Che butts* In the dining room, where ft corpalrnt panch-bowl seems always to exhale the steam of Jacob Lake's rum trom the West Indies, and the cellar is known to be well stocked with Burgundy and

port. Dorothy Has been mistress of it all, free to trip down unexpected stops, and trace bewildering paqwges leading to room withinroouaTliko the boxes of a Chinese toy but she hold* her breath as she crosses the unknown for tho first time. There is a perx adtagsoent of lavender, and in the very gloom some faint pulsation of a vanished presence. Dorotby gazes in ived sllonco at th© bigh four-post bed, shrouded in chintz hangings, the oedar obesfc like a ooffer, and the bureau quaintly inlaid in brass, surmounted by curious ornamonts—bubbles of tinted Venetian glass, featherwork, and shells. A Louis Quatorze gold watch swings from a hook, with the band pointing to twelve o'clock, and a pair of satin shoes with high heels stand beside the bed. There is nothing as pathetic as a snoe of the aead. A sob rises in Dorothy's throat all her heart goesout to the shadowy mother.

Don't let him find ye here, whispers old Serena.

44She

44People

A SACK OF GOLD."

Jane the tenth—and to-morrow will be Dorothy Cottrell's eighteenth birthday. Advanced age The gate of ivory and pearl takes an yet only the most delicate tints from childhood's imagination, and beyond the enchanted portal, womanhood for Dorothy.

She is standing in the open doorway of the Cottrell mansion, and she gives a little elastic iump of irrepressible delight at the prospect of soon being so old. She is ta 1 and slender, fair as her English sisters, but with the transparent purity of complexion due to a severe climate. She wears a cajiary-color-edslip, with the waist two inches deep, as prescribed by rigid fashion, her slippers arc daintily laced, and her blonde hair is gathered up on top of her head with an enormous shell comb,

441

she is the Judge's

daughter, and known to all the land. Across this gulf Jacob Lake, humble,

told rae to give

ve all when ye could understand. Here •». a .1: _... ai'ill ti'arn the*chcst and her diary. I will watch for the Judge."

Th© nurs© go©s out &nd closes the cioor soMy. The Judge must not know Serena is thoroughly aware of his idiosyncrasies by this time. He is a genial host, a

scholar,

having belonged to the king's

Council, a devoted father, but stern in his rule. Tho Jndge serves God by rising at four o'clock of the bleak winter morning, leading his Bible aloud until such time as shivoring, drowsy Dorothy is standing at her place at the breakfasttable on the stroke of six.

will rise to eat, when they

will not serve the Lord," he says solemnly. Alter the meal Dorothy falls asleep on her knees while her father prays, and ten chances to one Serena pinches her into a state of wakefulness at the right moment to arise. Suspicion is never allayed in the Judge's mind on this question of mornings duties he makes a carelul tour of nis kingdom, peering into the kitchen and barn then, having set the macbinory well in motion, ho retires to his study, reclines in his leather arm-chair, spreads a silk pockethandkerchief over nis face, and takes a refreshing nap to atone for his exertions.

Well does Serena remember the day when two babies lay in her arms, the boy Samuel, the girl Dorothy, and a strange light of revelation came into the dying mother's eyes as she said to her husband,

know all at last. As sure as there is a God above, you will be punished through my children."

The old housekeeper has seen too many leaves fall from the tree to be much awed by death, but a tear rolls dowu her cheek at the thought of Samuel. How they watched over that boy, the Judsre and the minister! she thinks, gazing euton the river.

He nigh upset original sin in their doctrines: there was no sin in him. He was just a saint from his cradle. Deary me! the Lord takes away our idols. I s'pose there never was a father who schemed and planned such a future as the Judge did for his only son. It was all to be a man in the future of his countrv. The minister must pray day and night that Samuel should escape all the snares of the devil and all the while holy angels were leading him straight to a

Serena takes a pinch of snuff from a silver snuff-box, rubs her lone nose violently, as if to dispel grief, am begins to chuckle irrelevantly.

Plenty of the old Adam in our Dorothy, though! My! if he didn't try to break her will at two years—taught her a verse of Scripter, and she wouldn't .say it J"

The vision of little Derothy seated on a stool in the study, obstinate and silent, while the Judge exhorted her, threatened, even cajoled, so that she yield to his authority and lisp the desired words, fills Serena with glee even now.

Poor mite! What does a man know about babies I took her at night, and she cried herself to sleep on my neck. He never tried to break her will again, mind ye."

An hour passes, and Derothy still kneels before the chest of which she is heiress. Satin petticoats, brocaded gowns, yellow lace, and wondrous scarfs are heaped about her. but she rests her oheek on a little red book. Sunshine

Eas

ours through the window which Serena opened. Dorothy's hair is fluffy gold, and there is sheen of splendor on the rioh fabrics of a past generation. The faded characters of the diary have furnished her a clew to her mother's own youth., Dorothy's fancy supplies the fresh coloring even ss the sunshine enters the dead chamber with revivifying touch. Left dependent on the charity of a haughty sunt in Norwich, and drawn as by a magnet toward the aunt's handsome son, Cousin John Moncrieff. Dorothy sees it all with a thrill of sympathy. Poor and beautiftil, sent away to New England in order that John mav be induoed to wed a country heiress." How will beauty transplanted fare in the household of a kinsman—a colonial secretary—attract the admiration of sedate .mature Judge Cotterell England has faded to a cloud across seas John is lost hope is desd. Here the chain breaks.

To Dorothy the very pages are eloquent with a love never fulTy expressed —the flower messages of Cousin Jehn, the pathos of his song, the meaning in his

oyee

yet she may never know that

Judge Cotterell, on the eve of his marriage, dispatched a missive in answer to one of John's, begging fbr tidings* hungering for the pale bride so soon to be the older man's very own. Tempted and fallen in this cruel emergency, the lat ter could not give her up, and on her death-bed she denounced him for his duplicity.

At noon the Judge returns home, and

man, with aquiline^atures and silvered balr, scrupulously elegant as to dress. His small clothes, silk stockings, and silver shoe buckles become his station but a brown coat with long skirts can not oonceal his stooping salt, and the raffles at his wrist ftdl ovsr hands wrinkled by sge. "To morrow is your birthday,* be begins, flecking a grain or snuff from his linen. (Just as if Dorothy did net know!) **I intend to take you to Boston."

Dorothy I* speechless from delight and exoess or surprise.

Serena has been preparing your wardrobe." At midnight Dorethy slips into her mother's chamber, and hastily selects a dress, a bo* of trinkets, and alar** Moorish ten to carry with her. WMlo she is thus employed, Serena enters the WOQtiggirl's room with a bundle in her arm. she nnlblds several garments wrought with all the skill of n—— work then places them in ft damask cloth.

One can never tell what may hap-

Eundleshe

snI" sighs, monrafally, laying the in Dorothy's chert. The Betsy sails at noon, and the event brings all Indian Point to the wharf, where there is bustle of preparation, and Captain Pettlgrew is tlie hero of the boyish hearts. Just Jndge Cotterell is about to embark with bis daughter, the

minister approaches. The Rev. Neliemiah Gibsou is a small, pale man, with piercing eye and calm dignity of bearing. ''Blessed are the pore in heart, for they shall see God.A The whole country-aide Is full of the marvelous efficacy of the Rev. Nebemiah Gibson's prayers, which smount to prophecy, ho not bring the rain from heaven and the fish into the nets by bis invooaic wc

tionsT Did he not keen alive his wife, the shrewish woman who mocked at piety, by his supplications, until, spent by her innaeuty. ne commuted uer u«i Maker, and that very day she sickened and died?

Cfc V, I'J M.1 PMPPiwm«W| 1 —1»

her infidelity, he oommitted her to her

He takes Dorothy's hand with scarcely suppressed emotion. Such education as tho Jndgo's daughter can boast has come from this theological source. She can read her Testament ix Latin and Greek. *4 The Lord be with you, my child. But if you yield to the temptations of a great city, the worldly pomps and vanities, you will surely receive your punishment."

Dorothy bows her graceful head in reverent acquiescence, but she does not heed the words that chill many a bystander. The mirage of the future spreads before her eyes, colored with the rainbow prism, ana there is a melody welling up from her heart unheard by other ears.

Blow, summer breeze, and inflate the sail which bears us out into tho beautiful unknown world!

It's along voyage, and full of peril," sighs old Serena, ambition and fear tugging at her heart-strings.

Jacob Lake is pale, and gnaws his lip in jealous dread! The minister stands, a small black figure with folded hands, gazing steadily after the receding vessel, in his wonderful ores the look of one who sees far beyona.

Aud so the schooner Betsy glides gently down the stream. II.

Province House is illuminated with innumerable clusters of wax-lights, which shed a lustre en the carved pilasters, blazoned escutcheons, and the polished floor of the ball-room. The court yard is thronged, and coaches pause before the gate for fair ladies to alight, while the soldiery guarding the portal check the familiarities of tho crowd,who may only gaze on that Aladdin's palace, the Governor's residence, from afar. Boston is the most prosperous town of the colonies, and to-night his Excellency entertains Admiral John Moncrieff, just arrived out with the fleet.

The guest of the eyening has landed from the flag-ship, has courteously exchanged greetings with tho company, and stands at the upper end of the bailroom. He is an elderly man, with silvered hair and an imposing presence, in the rich naval uniform, on his breast many orders are medals. Perhaps the most graceful youth in tho company is his son, Captain Clarence Moncrieff, now doing garrison duty here.

Memory haunts the father, giving a sombre tinge to his first impressions o! this New World. Here fled his cousin years ago to escape him, pale Dorothy, who must ever be held a priceless treas nre, because never attained. The chilled silence he scarcely dares to break by a single inquiry. Did his mother know what fete might have befallen Dorothy Will he see her to-night, a staid matron?

The son is startled by the nervous clutch of his father's hand on his arm, and no less by the change in his features.

John

Moncrieff has turned pale,

furrows line his brow, his eyes are fixed on the doorway, and from his lips escapes the exclamation—almost a cry, in its pained surprise—"Dorothy 1"

A girl stands in the door, slowly wafting a large Moorish fan as her glance rests calmly on John Moncrieff. Her dress resembles a tulip, being a superb brocade with stripes like the blended hues of the rainbow frills of lace veil the round arms, a slender pointed waist reveals the symmetry of the form, and the yellow hair is piled high over a cwibion. She is accompanied by a lady attired in the pile blue ana pink of the Pompadour reign, her black eyes and blooming cheek forming a charming contrast with her powdered tresses ana coquettish costume. A look is exchanged between the ladies of the provincial court, which says, more eloquently than words,

One of Mrs. Shackleford's whims. How that woman plots to attract all eyes!"

To John Moncrieff the prosent has vanished. Already he has stepped on the golden bridge which spanB time, and on the other bank is the love of his youth, and the tulip-shaded gown, wafting his gift, the perfumed Moorish fan.

Father, you must open the ball with our hostess,'' warns the Captain. Thus is the present thrust sharply upon him. Oh. the years! the long years! She can not he Dorothy, but a phantom mocking him as he steps ashore, for he is old, and his son stands beside him. He turns again to the girl, who appears frightened, as if moved by some indefinable sympathy then, with an effort, he recovers himseli.

Go to the young lady and apologize fbr my conduct. 1 was started by a resemblance."

Admiral Moncrieff opens the ball with the Governor's lady. Clarence Moncrieff threads bis way through the crowd to Dorothy's side Mrs. Shackleford smooths away any obstacle in his path and be is left to make his speech to Dorothy in his own fashion. Dorothy is dazzled with light and sound each lady is a goddess of beauty to her inexperienced eyes, each officer a hero of romance. Is she really the Judge's daughter, and does Indian Point still exist She looks at Clarence Moncrieff through her long eye-lashes, and forgets the conduct of the great ofiloer in the apologies of his son.

The iavorite of his regiment and the pet of all womankind bending over Dorothy, and the face into which she looks is as softly rounded as her own, youth having imprinted a dimple chin, smiling about Uie moblje lips, and laughing perpetually In the frank, boyish eyes. She has just consented to danoe the minuet and laid her hand timidly on the scarlet sleeve of her partner's ooat, when the voice of Judge Ootterrll says:

You have not had my permission to dance." Dorothy turns pale, and glances around helplessly for her chaperon. That lady shows no fklse colors she claims the stern Puritan's escort, and

Eotterell

resent* him to the Governor. Jt»dge is ftur toe well bred to drag away guilty Dorothy, and thereby make a scene, lie remains for an hour conversing affibly with the dignitaries but Dorothy's light feet have become lead as she meekly waits by his side.

For the first time in their lives Jodge Cotterell and John Moncrieff meet. Even now there Is a grave between theui, and they do not speak, if aware of each other's identity. As they leave the gay scene, Dorothy again enoounters toe long, whftful alano* of the Admiral. Impulse wouia lead her to kneel before

8hackleforfyawns slightly In Uhe ooach —pleftturo A cup of which ih® flip* nightly. The chaiiee has never before

been held to Dorothy's eager lipa. The ge utters no word of reproof. StUl in a dream, the girl stands in her chamber, with tho dawn stealing in the window. At theft moment Clarence, Moncrieff is going home to barracks, singing a buoyant song, and Will pro- I pose as a toast at mess,

4'Thesweetest

44Ishall

little Puritans," Dorothy has sinned what will be the retribution? Judge Cotterell had gone to Concord to visit an old friend ofthe bench, wl en Mrs. Shackleford claimed shy Dorothy with,

take you to the ball, men

enfant. Never mind papa I alone am to blame." I must wear my mother's dress," says Dorothy, eagerly.

Mrs. Shacklefonl assents, and directs her maid to make fbr her also a costume of old date, and the whim shall pass as her own. There is much merriment over the absurdity of the fashions of a past day as they assume their toilets, and then Pleasure touches Dorothy with her magic wand.

The cold dawn comes in the window, but ber cheeks still glow. A damask cloth has fallen on the chair with a slip of paper attached to the inner side, as careless Dorothy tossed it down after choosing the wrought garments it contained. Old Serena prepared for all emergencies. Her child had started on a long and dangerous voyage. Who may tell in the providence of God if slio shall ever return The girl reads:

Dorothy Cotterell's grave clothes." Yes, she baa worn the garments of death.

HI.

On a September morning Captain Clarence Moncrieff vaults into the saddle and rides forth from the fort. He is mounted on a black horse of powerful bul^d, with restless, uncertain eyes, and small, vicious ears. The sole amusement of the young officer, banished to this wilderness, is to scour the country on the back of a horse whose value is ehhanced by tho reputation of having already killed two grooms. The boyknight can not resist teasing Bucephalus with tbe spur and curbing bit as the animal bounds forward.

The old story of garrison life has been enacted down here on the coast one regiment has marched out, glad to welcome release from monotony the other has entered with many a shrug of disdain, prepared to do battle, or be conquered by ennui. Our Captain was loath to quit the gayeties of Boston for a post where a fishing hamlet extends along the shore, and the gulls wing their flight over the wide expanse of bay.

Tbe forest paths are crisp with the and there a vine flame about the

fallen leaves here twines like a scarlet gray trunk of a tree the air is keen with last night's frost, and sets the blood

dancing in the horseman's veins Thougbt is busy be is a volatile, ardent, impetuous, as becomes his years His fancy is curiously haunted by a pair of limpid blue eyes, and a smiling, rosy mouth. Moreover, a flavor of mystery piques his interest. Why should his father grow pale at sight of this beauty so quaintly attired, and then forbid all uientiwn of her, all search for her home and station Where is she now What is she doing? Does she ever think ol him. of what he said that night, and might have said, had not the stern father appeared just then? He has traversed many miles while absorbed in meditation, and finally reins up Bucephalus where two roads branch, and a pure spring bubbling from tbe moss tempts the thirsty steed.

Beyond is Indian Point, and near at hand a house bordering on the forest, with gambrel roof and dormer-windows visible through the trees. His ride is without purpose he prepares to return down the stream.

At the moment when Bucephalus springs forth from the fort, Dorothy Cotterell. occupant of this veritable nouse with tbe dormer-windows, is moved by certain bitter words of Jacob Lake's to linger before the mirror in the best parlor.

You are very much changed since your visit to Boston," he exclaims, hotly, and Dorothy prefers to accept the words literally.

Life at Indian Point is not as happy as it once was. The girl has tasted her ajpple of wisdom, ana is not the same. Or has" another petal simply unfolded, blushing with the still veiled loveliness of the perfect flower? Jacob Lake is miserable his money does not buy bim peace, and, gourmand that he is, his rond mother's most delicious buttered short-cake is set taide untasted. A fatality that he dares not resist draws him onward to a brink he fears to contemplate there is a primitive, savage, ani rnal layer of humanity beneath Jacob's smooth submission. The udge is morose, the minister vigilant and sorrowful old Serena alone is cheerful.

Resting her elbow on the frame, Dorothy gazes dreamily into the depths of tbe mirror, a small Venetian glass incased in carved wood. The parlor is clearly reflected before her, the paneled wall, wide chimney-place ornamented with Dutch tiles, and furniture with slendor legs but Dorothy beholds again the ball-room, the stranger who turned pale at sight of her ana lapsing deeper into reverie, loees herself in visions of the hero who has since furnished romance to her thoughts. Ah, the handsome face and graceful form! When shall she admire tbe like again Tho house is quiet the Judge is out Serena has been summoned away by illness and her handmaiden has slipped down to the village for a gossip. Every door is wide open, inviting the warm noonday across tbe threshold. Suddenly tbe mirror reflects a bronze face an Indian Is peering over Dorothy's shoulder. The transition is startling Derothy springs to ber feet, and confronta an old woman

wrapped in a blanket, carrying a bundle of herbs, tbe merest pretense for ing.

am or lit*row, mo uieraat pre* begging. "Me tired," ahe says. very good. Me tell you fortune ln cup

ffOCw

tea

tea.' The priest no let me, though." Dorothy smiles re-assuringly the old woman crosses herself.

You shall have your cup of tea, and tell my fortune," says Dorothy. "Wait here is a halforown to quiet your conscience.*'

ravished these sheep from his fold. Dorothy is surprised to find the handmaiden missing snd the house deserted, but gets the tea herself. lives there a girl who does not know that the Indians are wonderful fortune-tellers? While she is thus employed, the woman listens, Oealthily approaches a window, aad utters a peculiar nete. like the cry of a bird. Then she sips her beverage gravely, snd begins to croon to herself, swaying her body. Dorothy watches her half foarftilly. The magical moment arrives wbenthe cup Is

r®T®w#,Jv0"

saucer and turned thrice. Dorothy leans forward with parted lipa to watoh (dings. A strong hand ', and a voioe

""'Fire-wftter!" Terrified Dorothy lain tho power of an Indian. Tbe biood-ahot eyes glaro at ber threateningly, and the horrible FHOT TO OIOM to her own* Her TOIO6DDserta her: tbe very beating of her heart to stated. 8be gases stupidly at this

fearful antagonist, all the while conscious that if ihe fhltor she ia lost. She even turns mechanically to the old woman, who impassively look* on. "He no hurt. Give bim fire-water," ia her crafty suggestion. "What deyou want?" oomes from pale iips at last.

Kjs response is to drag ber toward the wide yawning cellar. St)e utters a shuddering cry at his touch, and he places' a band ever her mouth. The old woman has already closed the kitchen door, batr*»£ eaoaoe. despair nerves Dorothy to wrench away the fingers which close her mouth, and she stimulates the courage requisite to ask,

Would you like brandy?" Tbe Indian grunts acquiescence, and releases his hold. The captive darte into tbe cellar.

In tho mean while the black horse, Bucephalus, instrument of fate, after slaking his (.hirst st the cool spring, has just raised a slender head, when a girl rushes forward aud flings her arms about his neck, panting,

Tbe Indan8l save me!" Wicked Buoephalus stands like a rock until his master loosens the dinging arms. Tbe fair head droops on his shoulder, and he studies the upturned face of the beauty of tbe ball.

Piercing shrieks ring out on tho air. The Indians have vanished like shadows but tbe little handmaiden, return-

man. 8he gives the alarm with the full power of healthy lungs. All too briet tbe moment of delicious prolimity when the young knight holds tainting Dorothy in nis arms. Gentleman though he is, the temptation is irresistible to whisper caressing words in her insensible ear, to rest nis cheek against the soft white one on his breast, to restore warmth and color on the blanohed lips with his own. Is there not a faint responsive thrill

Jaoob Lake ill witness of this scene, and the

Bavage

depths withiu him stir

with as yet inartiouiate wrath. All the neighborhood is aroused. There is an electric bond of sympathy linking together our frontier towns. Dorothy is saved, and her protector, Captain Monorieff, rides back to the fort with that kiss lingering on his lips.

IV. W

The meeting-house of Indian Point is small and weather-worn, for it stands on the loftiest hill, aud points its slender spire to heaven in the sight of all the country round. Winter has oorae. although there is ss yet no snow, and the settlement has made all necessary preparations to deiy the north wind. Every house is banked with cedar branches, the meal chest full, the smoke-houso stored, the cellar fragrant with spicy apples, the garret with aromatic herbs.

Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy,' seems to belong to all nature on this November noon. Even the river's life is calmned beneath a thin crust of ice, and tho forest path is an avenue of splendor, where every branch and twig wear a diamond of icicle.

Captain MoncriefTs motive in taking aSuuday ride is as transparent as crystal. Ostensiblv he comes to worsbip in the Indian Pofnt meeting-bouse, in reality to catch a glimpse of Dorothy. Bucephalus steps daintily along, as if taking a roguish pleasure in bis mission. The interior of tbe meeting-house is severely plain. An aisle separates two rows of high stiff pews: the pulpit is attained by a sleep flight of steps and from gallery proceeds tbe twanging ol Jacob Lake's bass-viol leading the highpitched choir. The wails are white, and there are little windows up under the roof, suggestive of the times when wo carried our muskets to service and watched through these loop-holes. Now we live in peaoeful days under the rule of our gracious sovereign. Iudian Point tenaciously holds the belief that no one ever caught cold serving tbe Lord. Hence the absence of fire, except in the foot-stoves of the good wives, wbioh the children use as sleds to coast down hill after service. Tbe minister has already given out his text, when a stranger enters. A ruistle of curiosity pervades the meeting Jacob Lake snaps one of tbe strings of his instrument Judge Cotterell offers the new-comer a seat in his pew with grave courtesy, whgre Dorothy and old Serena are already placed.

Nothing can exceed the propriety of Captain Monorieflfs demeanor he has worshiped in minster and cathedral, rich with the ornamentation of generations, and here be sits in a small whitewashed tabernacle, with tbe difference Dorothy sits beside him, stealing glances at him through long silky lashes, of which be is subtly aware. The Rev. Nebemiah Gibson pursues his way through th1) mazes of theological discourse there is magnetic power in the mellow voice, and when his glapoo rests casually en Captain Moncrieff, a shaft of light seems to pierce the young man's seul.

Meeting over, Indian Point lingers to exchange greetings. Dorothy looks apTy at her father, and colors high. us prompted, the Judge invites the young officer home to dinner—an invitation accepted with such gay alacrity that Serena ignores her dearest crony, Dame Tomplcins, and hastens down the hill to Inspect the larder. Oh, the golden moments slipping into golden hours, while the Judge entertains his guest with an opinion on tbe state of the colonies at the present time. Dorothy, most demure of maidens, is simply a spectator, and Captain Moncrieff tosses back to the Judge the ball of conversation with tbe artful suggestions of a listener. Such diversions are, indeed, made as to urge the young lady to play_on tbe spinet—an accompuabment of wnlch her hither is Justly proud—but this may not be on the Sabbath, unless Dorothy oonfine ber sweet voice to the limit of psalm tunes. Tho Jodge aa guardian dragon never quits his post. At last Serena brings ber poke-bohnet to bear on the situation. Something alls the ihvoirto hound: 8eren* fears that be is rabid. The Judge hastens out only to discover that the hound is frantic because his teeth are glued together with a lump of molasses candy. How can a sensible dog have been induced to swallow candy? Serena is innocently surprised.

The two young people stand in the deep embrasured wmdow which overlooks the ice iacrustod river.

Do you remember the ball be softly inquires. On yes." Dorothy's gaze Is obstinately fixed on tbe floor, and the bloom in ber cheok deepens and palea beneath his scrutiny. He ventures to take one of her slender hands tbe fingers cling instinctively to his own, Instead of shrinking aa turn

Jaoob Lake's palm.

May I come again

Love me, sweet."

uMoncrieff

course it is. You cant help yoenftlf it's Hater." While the gentleman exchange flurewells, and the genial warmth of the younger is irresistable, Dorothy vans down the steps to whisper in tbe ear of the black steed, "Bear him safely for my sake." wicked Bucephalus curves

&is

hiB

Where have you been

Dorothy raised ber eyes slowly to bis, and be la answered.

In tbe haUft ter different scene is being enacted. Tho Judge hM snddoalT grown pale, and puts Bis .hand to his brow as if smitten with a sickening fear.

I that Is the name. Why

have I not thought before? Can it be—" "His son?" supplies Serena. "Of

neck

and tomes his bead coquettishly, as if nroud of his charge. Down in the Lake house the head of tbe son and heir rests on tho kitchen table, with his arm stretched abroad in the abandon of misery.

Mother, that offlopr Is at the Judge's with bis fine speeches. Curse him!"

1 A ~vT# 'r it is late in the month of February, and intensely cold. If outward circumstances could chill the ardor of lovers, tbe bitter wind, tbe sullen black waves of the fretted bay, awful in its white stillness, might deter Captain Moncrien from leaving tbe sheltering fort. But Dorothy waits for him, the heart of the mate flutters in anticipation in the nest, and be spurs Bucephalus out into the night. Fairies have been at work on his pathway, sprits of snow and frost DO an

wdering the branches with glittering raperies which form arcbos above his head, and the moon, small orb of a steelblue heaven, imparts to tbe snow crust a silvery radiance. Tbe black borse and rider move noiselessly through the realm of dreams, the earth lying shrouded in profound sleep. Ouryoung knight is radiantly happy the raillery of tho mess can not deter him from taking tbe forest path, and that very day he has written to his father, who is at New York, claiming consent to his marriage with Dorothy Cotterell, of Indian Point. Well may our knight be radiant he has held the charmed key which unlocks gates ef brass all obstacles have melted away even Judge Cotterell has given a reluctant consent, nature being too strong for him, as Serena predicted. This very night all preliminaries must be arranged: tbe wooing shall be brief our young knight is imperious and Doroihy already bends, lilywise, in sweet submission to his will in most things. The smooth flank of Buoephalus feels the insulting sting of the spur horse and rider fly through tlie stillness of night, phantoms of a dream. Other phantoms axe alBO abroad, it would seem. A shadow has haunted our preoccupied soldier these three miles, now darting ahead, now lingering behind warily. It has no shape, this lurking thing which should belong only to darkness, and evidently feels itself so out of place in the crystalline splendor of the luminous forest thins benind troes, and finally vanishes among the rocks ahead.

to his breast at last. fingers are stiffened by tho piercing cold. He changes the orldlo from one cramped hand to tho other. As he does sea shapeless thing darts out from the projecting boulder, and whoops in the horse's ear. Bucephulas rears on his hind-feet, clears tho shape in one bound, and plunges along thepath, mad with fear, dragging his unseated rider by the stirrup. O silvery night, and luminous forest! can no power elieck the steed's winged feet, and raise tho beautiful fallen head

Jacob Lake enters his house an hour later, his teeth chattering and his arm broken—it may be by the blow of a horse's hoof. His mother confronts him with a terrible suspicion in her eyes.

In the woods. It's all over with me and I don't care who knows," is the sullen response.

Mrs. Lake is a capable woman. She binds the injured arm. She saddles a borse with her own bands, and having equipped her son for ajournoy, says,

Ride down to tbe shore and catch the first coaster for Newfoundland. I will send for you when it is safe to return. Hero is your father's wallet. Go!"

The Cotterell mansion beams with light and warmth. The kitchen Is one ruddy glow from the open fire, where tbe logs blaze and the crane supports an iron pot that omits savory odors. Serena is in ber glory hero. A huge tin kitchen basks on tbe hearth, containing a giant turkey on the spit, well basted with sausages. From the dutch oven, with its crown of fiery coals, emerge bisouit and johnny-cake. There is still flame enough to reveal the low raiters overhead, the blue paint of tho doors, tbe knots in the pine door, and to illumine Dorothy, in a gown of crimson Salisbury flannel. "Surely he Is late, Serena," she says anxiously.

The old woman is silent. Last night she saw a winding sheet in the candlo. The clock ticks slowly. Dorothy flutters from the fire place to the little window. Her ear catches the trampling of hoofe. She must be first at the door. At last! Light streams forth from tho open portal, staining the snow deep red, and there stands the black horse, oulvering In every limb, spent, unnerved, drooping, ana dragging a senseless form.

In tbe best parlor, evergreens, [dark and

SIO

arior, decked still with fire crumbles to ashes noes, as Dorothy, speechless

and tearless, lays her bead on an irresponsive breast, while ber father stands with bowed head.

The night ia very still, a snow-clad earth meeting tbe horizon line of cloudless heavens, and in the pure moonlight

Sitterell's

eam the white tombstones of Judge once pale bride and only son.

"Cherry Time" "Lllyof the Field." wtf ttre now giving to every Vt-OQ yearly subscriber a cboloe of the above Cbromo*. They are catalogued aad *old in the art stores at MAO per oopj but will be given to all penoni who send us their names aa subscribers enclosing

$2X0

tbe price of the pa

per for one year. These pictures are perfect copies In every delicate tint and color of magnificent paintings costing hundreds of dollars. All who bave any idea of or lov* of art fall in love with them at flrxt sight.

M. P. ARMSTRONG, M. PHYSICIAN AMD HOROEOBf, Takes this method of informing tbe public tbat be has moved to Indianapolis, and established a Private Hospital for the Treatment of Diseases of Women, at the southwest oorner of Pennsylvania and Tinker rtreets. Tho building and gronudsare large and pleasant. Ladies can have good rooms, board and medical atttentlon in the same building. An experienced female nurse will be in lUtendance at ail times. Having hmf an extensive experience in tbe treatment of chronic diseases for fifteen years, two of which were spent in female hospital" IB Europe, he feels confident in rendering entire aatisfoetien to all who rosy fever him with their patronoge.

Office in the same building: where he will be pleased to see all tbe euffferlug'adlM of the city and other legalities, who desire treatment, between 9 a. m. and 4 p. m,

Cin. 0^ J. O. McPbeters, M- D7 and J. J.

and Hon.Thos Dowliwg, Terre Hants, Ind.. and Alex. Paris, 111.