Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 13, Number 23, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 2 December 1882 — Page 6

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

'SHE SCHOOLMASTER'S SLEEP.

The itcboolixiaater waa weary, Wan wearj, old and grav. And beavtlie* came er blm

Upon that sonny day—

The merry day* of childhood Returned he saw again The fM» 01 old playmate*,

Wbo now were white-haired men. And (ben he aaw hJa scholars An air otatody feign lie heard the btucz of insects

Againxt the window pane.

The drowsy «chool-room murmur He heard. and, In hi* trance, lie mw the orchlna watching

Hta face with a rtealthy glance.

He mw, and for a moment, He rouMxl his dreamy brain To 1k*H?

the «JuKj?i*h fetter*

Of Htu{»or'ji leaden chain.

in vain for, with the effort. Hi* Head dropped on hi* breast. Hi* breath came faint and fainter,

And noon be xank to rwrt.

And then aroce an uproar! And bontidiewt wa* the glee Among Ui«*e iittie dcbotani

The hchoolnuufter to tee. Their youthful wayward spirits Took many a merry freak They bolcliy rolled their marblca

Or romped at hldc-and-aeek. The study-hoar wan over, And Mil I the mooter slept: And greater grew the tumult

Tkenc- thoughtless scholars kept.

Unli! the little maiden, Who watched tins pallid face, WHh grave concern and wonder,*

Htole softly from her place—

Btole softly to the master, And gently touched ht* head. And started back in terror—

Thti &chtAtlmaUer u*u ilrad! —lien Wood Davis.

The Witch-Mark.

BY KiaZAUKTH

OAKKS HMITU.

"I wish vou wouldn't put our George «n board that foreiRti-bound ship," said a feoblo voice to a stout man who puffed a rifrar in a chair opposite. 'W nil, wife, it is all for thoboy'sgood He's nothing l*uL a Hpooney as ft is, and 'twill be tho making of uim. What's tho use of waking pictures, anyway? .He'll just be nothing as ho goes on."

At this tnoiueut a handnotne boy of perhaps eighteen years, with a breezy Mir and vivaolty, entered, just in tiuie to hear tiie laite'r part of what hia father said, ami he replied to it in a bright olFbanded way, that did not seem in the .leant spoony-like. "I guess you are about right, father. In thinking iae a good-for nothing. I'll jfo, mother it's only for a year, and, perhaps, it will mako a uun of mo." And so it was docidod that the youth ahoulil visit ^fareign ports" in one of his Jalhor'a ships bound for China.

The staunch ship Asia wont her voyage, Uoorgo acting as a sort of supercargo, which would seem to contradict the asaertiou of his father that he was good for nothing. Ho was no mean artiiH, and ou tho voyage delightod all on board with his ready caricatures of xuon and evouU,

All was promising and prosperous till the Asia ojtproticned tho end of her voyage. It was near the period known as the line gale, or equinoctial storm, •when off the rack-bound coast of Maluo, that tho hurricane came upon them in all its terrible might. They wore oil a Jong reef of rooks known nstho Cackolds, a heavy wind and tide drifting them thoreou. Utter destruction was bofore them, when a audden whirl of the furious oleiuontsdriftod them aside, and dashed theui upou the shoro within a narrow bay of comparatively safety. Tho stout suip, riven and tortured by the storm, was driven upon the rocks, and left there her siaunch ribs, scattered and helpless. Few of the crew escaped, and among these (Jeorge Hadlord, bruised anil bleeding, survived tho terrible ruin.

He wai roused to consciousness by a kindly voice saying, "Take heart, mautty you're all fight."

Tho gale had sttlnided with the approach of day, and as the glorious luminary blaaed upon the still raging billows,"and drove afar the black cloud*, a sorrowful sight was opened to view dead and dying men, masses of cargo, ami tho battered hull of mau's most perfect workmanship, looking in its ruin like sotue beautiful, sentient being «vemmo by a relentless destiny.

The few inhabitants of the iuhospitaUlo region were not unused to these dls asters, and attorded all the relief possible lu saving the \«rgo and supplying the wants of the few survivors of the «AUtntroph»—George followed hia guide to a hut under the lee of the promontory where a woman placed him on a rude bod, aad ministered as best she could to his suffering condition, dressing his wounds with the cooling loaves of burdock and plantain, infallible panacea*of all human aches and^poins. For several days be was too ill to move, but at length be crawled out upon the nn'ks, where he aat gating listlessly upon the long reach of dotted here aud there by those roekv islands found along that coast ragged peaks of granite, many of which wwre surmounted by rhoir beautiful garniture of the tree*.

With the eye of an artist he took in the wild, solitary grandeur of the scene, and with the inspiration of the poet, half chanted aloud a rude rhythm to the deep monotone of tho unresting ocean. A touch upon his knee arrested his attention, and looking down a small brown hand rested upon it. while its mat*' softly tapped his shoulder, and a pair of dark eyiw peered into hi* face, while a childish voice asked: "Do you feel bad to be oast away "Yes, indeed, I do." -I am glad bf it," she rejoined, with a laugh that was nearer a sob. "Who are you, little one? Do you live in this region "I come hem in a big storm, jnet as iroa did. Uroifrny say 'ite an evil sign u» wu and me."

Radford now looked more attentively at the little shape leaning over him— brown face, with mawst* «f yellow balr Stirling and burnt in the sun. A scantyown, rodeljr blown away from her mts, exhibited their symmetry to the Itnens, wl the feet were halt hidtf tor the k* and *«-weed that cows the rock*. Something strange, weird. P-

trr Si

nnaccttrdant with the ntd«M of -nBRrmadtofi eeot the blood hack to bl« beart with a feeling of pain, and be tenderly fnnwaed the little tignre nearer l* hisakle. At tbbi she drew in a Uw«g twe« 11, at moving slightly hack, said: *v ro..'U«r, voti don know! 1 mu»t never let anybody like me. Granny

Mi when vow 'nl she sak} yott ttt- ike

ktoked ten! at you kiww iioUtin, and ah

a« sn|eel, bat I wa*-~!ike-— -tile

what amked the yimtli,

f-p

„-,

..rrtiJc# -^pESA

ing with a gratified, boyish vanity, and blushing at the satno time. "I mustn't tell but the wicked man h»» pat bis mark on me."

She drew back.and stood erect on ber bare feet, planted with peculiar flrmneae, and, benaing her bead, fixed ber dark eyes upon bis face under brows so contracted that they make a straight line above them and across her forehead. It was certainly very peculiar, but by no means unhandsome.

George waa lost in studying the face artistically, And rotdfi DO

comment, sfc

which be said: You see what it is! All the witches are born with that black mark." "Well, the witches are born to be very handsome, then."

This innocent flattery was interrupted by the call of Mrs. Hooker, who appeared on the sand below, and beckoned the child to follow her. Radford followed also down the rocks to the little hut nestled

amid

junipers and sage and tufta

of wormwood and tansy. He now remembered that while he had been ill and helpless, be bad heard a child craning ruae rhymes, and several times a fresh, warm cheek had been preesed'to his own. He had supposed this a Mixture of his dreams and not reality, though some of the words she ktd 8®g haunted his mind.

He was able now to assodJuitils with the strange child of the rocks, unly wondered that |be had seen so little or her. That she was an exoctic in this wild region was very evident and how she should be left here, growing up in utter ignorance, seemed incomprehensible. .-V

Josh Hooker, a low, square-built fisherman, had lived with his wife Sally years under the hill, tbem from the rough northern winds of that region. A sini-ple-hearted kindly pair they were, content w,th the daily ronnd of human necessities and neighborly offices, and devoid of any spark of what is called ambition. Once or twice a year Parson Sawyer, an apostle of the olden time, sculled his little wherry into the cove, and gave tbem, as best he might, scrape of readings, and what was more, his prayers and benedictions, otherwise their lives might be said to be uneventful.

more than forty which sheltered

The great event of their lives was, however, when a heavy storm, ten years before our story, drove the English brigantiue Lingard ashore, very nearly on the

spot

where the Asia was wrecked.

Mr. Hooker said: "It was just tho kind of a storm that you had,and the captain and all on board perished, but—" and he glanced at the little girl, who stood with her arm over his nhoulder. "All but me," she interjected and contracted her dark delicate line over the eyes. "Yes, that's so, Cosset aud the wreck brought us this bore bird, this pretty Mother-Cary chicken." "Hush, Josh don't you know Father Sawyer told us not to pamper or bepraise Pauline,"

Then her namejjis BPauline George, admiring the girl's

upo

at which the beard-covered hand.

the

trail­

said

8 e'egant pose

and low, while forehead, kept white by overhanging curls. "Besides, Jo«h, all the people are afraid of Pauline bocause of the mark."

Josh answered by a low, incredulous laugh, and drew her nearer to himself, saying, after a pause: "Ifit in a witcb-mark, I'll take all the mi-chief on me that birdie can do." child patted the rough, cheek with her small

The superstitious current in the past agos still kept their hold in obscure, solitary hamlets, where this feature of the eyebrows, tho presence of a ruby mole, or crook ot the little \iinger, are in our day regarded with superstitious horror by tho ignorant. It was plain to be seen that Paulino had been mado nervously sensitive by the disfavor of the people around her to

shape of her eyebrows,

and she rather increased the intensity of their contour by the habit of involuntary contraction of them. "IHOSM my soul!" cried Sally, starting from the settle upon which she was seated netting a tish-net, and hurrying to the door, "if hero ain't the parson !'r

Father Sawyer was a man of nearly ninotv summers, tall, erect, of full but not corpulent si/.o, who for seventy years had given religious instruction to the inhabitants along tho coast and inlands nort heast Maine. His voice was of that grave, sympathetic kind that wins the heart and inspires respect, while a pair of large, deep-sot eyes, undor blaoK eyobrows, were of great beauty even now. "Well, Josh, I heard the shipwreck had brought you another Paul, and so I am here you noe." Saying this, he disengaged "a red bandana from his head, showing a profusion of white, silky hair waving in curls to his shoulders. He now took the hand of George as he had done that of Josh and Pally, held him at arm's length, and scrutinized his face. "You will do, young man but as Paul found a vi|»er to fasten on diis band at the shipwreck of Malita, we muat »ee to It that only lambs, perhaps angels, meet you here." "Amen I" responded George and, to his surprise, the child uttered an amen also. "And bowls our Mother-Cary chicken? Has she learned her lessons? aud can she say her verse*, sve "She's a good girl, and Tarns her lessons, Father but somehow she so different from us, that I pity the poor lamb." "Ron down to the wherry and bring me a bundle there. I have books and a paper or two, and a plum or so, you shall see,'* said the paraon.

The child obeyed with alacrity, and when she had gone be took the arcn of George, and leading him to a sbtif on the rocks, thus addressed him *'I have lived so long that cosr'ag events seem now present, young man, and I foresee that God lias designs in your coming here. That poor, bright child, perhaps through it may find help In some way. To take her rrom J«**h would weU-nigh brvak his heart but Sally, a good creature, loving the child, baa still a superstitious fear of ber, ami this is wrong done ber." "Is there i»o due to ber history interrupted Radford. "Scarcely an v. The mother, like others on board the Ungard, waa washed on shore so exhausted that it was

Nor to mine-.** answered Georg?.

where a few old pines and hemlocks aigbed in the breese. "Here," said tbe elder, "are the graves of the wrecked mariners brought hither by tbe relentless waves, and here lies the mother of Panline."

Saying this, ha laid his band npon the bead of the child, who had followed silently as they walked to the burialplace.

It was a picturesque eceue—one never to be obliterated from the mind of the artist—that long ocean rw«cb, dotted with islands, the hut beneath the junipers, and its semi-circle of sand, marking a quiet haven, tbe old pines o%*er the peaceful graves tbe white-haired, saintly minister, and the wierd,' bare-footed child over its mother's grave. *•1 named lue child Pauline Ling&rd, remembering the *hip-wrecked apoestle. and in memory of the lost vessel, and sprinkled baptismal water upon her bro'w, thus making her a lamb of Christ Jeeus our Lord. 1 must be away now, young man, for I came onlj to look after my little lamb, not knowing what might be." "I must go, too," replied tiie youth "but I feel a strange interest iu this child." "That is natural. You are in your first youth, nearer boyhood than manhood, and she is near maidenhood. She is good and fair to tbe eye. Luckily, our tisber-boys are afraid of her. I look to you. young man, to interest yourself in her behalf."

Radford colored deeply, foreseeing a difficulty becatue of the ignorance of the girl, to say nothing of the many obstacles that all at once sprang to view. Perceiving his hesitation, Father Sawyer resumed: "I would by no means have ber go hence at preherl but ber guardians are old aud scarcely the kind to well fostef so elegant a plant. She has tbe intima tious of blood unknown to theii£. and vague longings aud desires that can have no fruition in her present environments. But I must away before turn of tide, Think of what I have said."

Radford lingered several weeks after this interview he hardly knew why, for his parents had urged bis return home, and tho weather was cold and inclement. Pauline was mucb of the time clambering the rocks with him, and pointing out objects of iutere*t that would otherwise have escaped him. Wheu the air was soft, the two rowed out among the rocks and islands of the boy, fished in the waters, and gatherod shells and seaweed along tbe shore. It was a life of enchantment to tbe young artist, who waa growing daily more aud more wrapt in tbe companionship of tho barefooted child, whose blush glowed warmly through tbe sun-burned cheek as her companion touched her hand in the management of the boat,or lifted ber over the sharp edges of the cliff. At length he awoke to consciousness. "I must go away, Pauline and when I am gone you will forget nie." "Whyshould I forget you?" she returned, contracting her dark brows, aud lixing ber large eyes upon his face. "Why should you remember me, Pauline You will be wife borne day to oue of these fishormen, and die like the rest of them, and be buried under tbe pines."

The oardropied from ibe bunde of the little maid, and the b-at gave a great lurch. Starting to her leet, she cried rather than Rpoke "Never, never When you are gone, I will go to tho top of lialdhead umi throw myself into the sea."

"That is a strance face you are so fond or sketching, George,,ir^»id lit* mother, holding a drawing up to the light. "How do vou like it, mother "I am no judge iu such things but it seems to me I should be afrtid of it. 1 suppose it is one of yourideab that live* only in the fancy of

an

artist.'^

"Not in the least. It is a trirt portrait, and not half so beautiful as ttygirl herself." "Why, George, can it be thelmrefootedgirl of the wreck! Poor tjing she must be dreadfully out of phbo where she is." 1 "That is true, mother and 1 reproach myself that I have not tried provide for her elsewhere." "George, Georgo, do not tbit$ of her. She must Ite totally demoralised l.y the life among those ignorant llshe»nen."

George pondered over his not her \s words.lt no wing her pride of cnte, and her repugnance to everything os»le from her aaily routine but none lie less was he determined to

S*XJ

sought

c,

in

owl-

ble to restore her, and she died, si 'ding to the last the j»Kr infant of perhaps two year*. I performed the sad riUw over the d*ad. and never a more pitiful one. She must have been a comely woman. She the witch-mark to ber child, whlc 4 not an III one, to mv eye*."

141

am an artist and can admire Natur* ia all ber manifestations." Tbe parson's fine eye*

studied the

of his companion, and be at Icoglu zipU«rt: "An artfet ftbontd be nearer to "il than otb«r men. 1 see no evil in ur fa*»."

Radfor! winced a llttis tinder this alive prafaw: perhaps all of us wrnW tbe cam*, lie arose as ..?ier Sawyer did, and followed him .i.4 bank to

J|tti

Pauljie once

more. It was now the Indian sumiHr, that beautiful escapade

of

Nature Ir which

she strives to renew again the oatities of tbe year. Two years bod elpsed— two busy years of study by v»icb he hud endeavored to eflace from la mind the barefooted maid of tbe rod. Jle was often from home longantervals, in which amid the wildest lenery he

materials f«»r his art. Many

faces grew under his pencil, and linv a dull, common one took a lineortautv borrowed from that of Pauline.

It was a dav of collar lovltss as the young artist ».Uy propelled 1) boat in the direction of Haldhead.arofd the shoulder of which nestled thmit of Joshua Hooker. His heart beat 0ck!y

Q0 the direction of Bafdhead, aro^d the

tall,

S

as lie approached,aud looking tide bo* held a

slender fignre stating on

the beetling rock and gazing itfrard. It was Pauline. Rounding the de, his keel grated upon the sand, tl he mounted tbe rock. He met her her descent,and extended bis liandaith a warm greeting, which she returiHwilb a faint— "Come at last 1" and burst intoar*. "You have missed me,then,Patie?" he answered, taking her hand, hich was lev cold. She was rudely »**!, but nothing could disguise th^on-, drous beautv which the two yeahad developed. Sally met them on tbehds, having, it seemed,come lu search her protege.

3

"Ah, Mr. George, sl»» «tid,]nm glad you have come. Kstber Nyer said you would come fwk,' Ri^he glanced furtively at Panline, wh^astpn#*d onward insilenee. "I fear she Is not wt !t.***aid tlieler. "She must c-» from this §i«e»j:be here,

n.iT.

r,Hookcihoi

I

took the arm homeward. Week* jttMed away, and still tl rtj«t lingered. Tbe cold Novembefn* ootioe down, and still be sat at t^ht in the lurid light of tbe ftsbermiu sut —a fire made of tbe driftwood ~my a gallant ship wrecked alo be

Pauline had recc red soroetb of her gaiety, but was ore iwerve an In former times, wblte fcer bei of f• and fac vaa gw^y arg».rc »d. ^-jnrtiaaw with ey* of fogaof Lon 1st, not that of a low, I be *d. red, and. |n 'a* Vr rwndte, *j»»

*ig JMlfc-'' BOatftei

or the future. A lKV«r-on fHrht !»*ve oh#*r w* long it rviear *b II foWf .Tl ue t"* nigh 'nff ilgt^in ILi. -_VT Ottag» ng

Not long after tbe return home of the artist, he was one day startled bv tbe sudden entrance of Mrs. Radford into bis studio, who exclaimed "Good pincaous Some queer oeople down stairs are asking for you—an old man and women who might hove come out of Noah'* Ark. and a tall girl in short petticoats, aud hair all over her face."

George smiled consciously and has tened below, tollowed by bis mother, The three visitants rose at his entrance, and each shook him by the hand, the girl barely extending bertingets. "Mother," be said, "tbeseare the kind people who befriended me after the shipwreck" and, leading Pauline forward, he added, "and this is Pauline, of whom you have beard me speak."

A bright smile illurninatad the face of the girl at these words, aud even Mrs. Radford felt its sweetness, for she put back the curls from the brow, and kissed her check, at which Josh exclaimed "Oh, ma'am, you can not but love her and it will nigh break our old hearts to part with her!"

Tho mother glanced at George, and then at the group before her, only iu part comprehending the meaning of it •but the entrance of Capt. Kadford set all right. He warmly greeted the fatniiy thanked them for the care they hud ox tended to bis property, more than all to bis son. He surveyed Pauline from bead to foot, muttering: "So-ho! handsome maid, George, ah Makes good picture, ah!" "These people mean to leave her here, I think," his wife whispered in his car, "Why not? why not? Room enough

Will be company'for you, wire." Mrs. Radford looked aghast. A sea of troubles arose in her mind's eyes. But it was at length decided that Pauline should remain, and Josh aud Sally weeping like two children, took their departure, laden with gifts and books aud other donations for the good Parson Sawyer.

Georgo Radford, wedded to his art WHS

heart-safe, so far as Pauliue was in terested, and thus several years elapsed during which he bad matured to higher loveiiuess. To the many graces of maidenhood wero.-.ddcd the sweetest of tem-

E11rs.

ers, and so many winning ways that

Radford dcclured she was losing the witch mark. "I really hope that will not be," re plied her son thoughtfully.

In the meanwhile, he had painted a picture, entitled "The Witch of tho Wreck." It was gorgeous in coloring, and rich in suggestion. A wild, savage coast, beaten by the sea, and overhung with black clouds a headland of bald rock, upon which was drifting a splendid ship, her inast and spars and ropes mado visible by the light streaming fioni above and emanating froma figure in tbe centre of the vessel. This figure was a woman, dark-eyed and radiant in the glow of supreme youth and beauty. One hand held back ber masses of golden hair, and the other was arched over her brow, as if to aid the eyes that peered into the blackness of the night. Tho strong wind swept aside her scanty garments, revealing the rich contour of limb and tho half uncovered bust. It was In the eyes, tbe hair, the brow upon which thearlist had expended tbe depths of bis art. The latter was contracted in the intensify of tbe gaze, making a straight black line over eyes so deep, so brilliant, ha! the observer grew spellbound 1 afore them.

George Kadford, whose reputation had become confirmed as an artist of power, was desirous to exhibit this picture nbroad. Accordingly, when bis wish lieeame known, letters of introduction were supplied him, and he made his way to the great city of London, Nor was he disapiHiiuted therein tho impression made by his master-piece. Thousands hocked to admire "The Witch of the Wreck,' hardly Kuowing which most to couittiend, the wonder!ul landscape, if sit might IK? called, or the gorgeous lieauty of the figure poised in the midst of the impending run. "Beautiful, exceedingly went from lip to lip, and orders (Haired in upon the American art st.

At length the fameof,'the picture reached the cars of Sir Ralph ifiusmore, a once popular nietnler of the Parliament but long since living in seclusion, owing, it was !elicved, to the sudden death of a beloved wife. Mid loss of a no less lieloved daughter. A moody, taciturn man, he rarely left the boundary of his estate, busyin( himself as best he might in agricufture, and in promoting the welfare of his tenants. Forced by some contingency to g/ to Ixindoti, he took occasion to visit the Gallery of Fine Arts, where was exhibited the work of thearlist. Ho gave a careless ghinceat first, nlmorlred in the rich, warm light of tho picture,

Suddenly he started. A deathly pallor spread over his face, and ho staggered to one side recovering himself, he

grasped the arm of Radford, and essayed to speak, but words would not «,ome At length, as if aroused from thestu|or of an iiicubus, be faltered out:

Who is the original Where is she The artist endoav«ir to quiet him, and evaded a direct reply. •'Is shealive? ls"she in Kngland?" "Why do you a*k What is it to yon who is tbe original, if such ever existed

Tbe question invaded the monopoly he held in the origin*!. "Tell mo tbe namo of the girl, if nothing more." jwrsisteii the other. "She was found in a fireman's but, and is called Pauline." "A fisherman do lighter! Never, with that look and face!" and he turned away with a weary movement as ft one who*c lost hope is flighted. Radford took his arm, and led him to a private room.

We must now return to Portland,

"iw,w~ and jLua *here events deinand onr attention. K* "leapt. Radford, a. K»*V to inferred, was

Thia was said bv J^h seimble awl indigent way. Kr,« *n.i ,* rc r.:. ,:on *»f umrffi s»br a 1 gratified «f Pauline, and Wrhlm .r

--ft •n&iirssL's

thaa

v*»m'-W'\'«-!-»

*'ir* ^th -V r.«

&*Jt •%**».*

TFTOW? HAUTE SA.TCKDAY EVENINu MAIL

the coast wore extinguished and now Josh and sally began to talk of going abroad—of »ven visiting Bath and Portland before the winter set iu, and Paul ine was to ^o with tbem. Some little finery and more comfort was apparent in the dress ol the latter also,before George took his leave, as it was needful for him to do.

be wu. ir^.ng'tocm-

fens, despite bis general contempt for picture-making. Bat, as he said. Panline was an uncommon fine girl, and worth making a picture of."

In tbe way of business, a ship of which be was mostly owner waa bound for England, and be determined to take a voyage in ber, sccompaoed by Mrs. Radford and Pauline. They would see the world, and see George, and see bow the "Witch r,f tbe Wreck V~ked In tbe ». AecoidlHc: ft bey *rfit.' ng tbe at: :«bi# studio, wen at t.^e to tbe t^Lil.tlon gallery. Tbey w*»re shown to the private r:=.

1., T:' •. ri r-

*:*?•. the Baro-

v' .! ~h' ,i Vj- :i. •averm-

ita tint). Paolln'"** rieV. ligfr'MI up the ".J» *•"*. a»«!,«

It was now Capt. Radford's turn to give the supplement of the story, which he did briefly as he had learned it from his son.

As he closed, he laid his hand tenderly on the head of Pauline, saying "I don't know your laws In things of this kind they are bad enought I have no doubt but I will my this umfh you shall never take this girl away from us again her will," and he brought down a heavy boot with emphasis.

The linsmore mark must have its way" returned Sir Ralph. "Panline, will you not give your relative one Kiss before lie resigns you to others

At these words the artist sprang fo his feet, and trembling with emotion, he raised Pauline, and lead'iig her to her relative,the two kneltdown with,bowed heads. He spread his hands over them in blessing, saying

What ('od hath joined together, by so many and inscru^ablo ways, let not man pnt asunder.''

Aud thustlxj witch of the rock lieeame the wife of th(f artist, and many times the now happy Sir Ralph visited the old scene of disaster. He built a granlto memorial under the pines on the hillside, where slept the mother of Pauline, and in memory of the gallant dead Josh and his wife were not forgotten, nor the apostolic Parson Sawyer and thus otir brief afory ends, with the golden threads rear rough in the destinies of those that survived the shipwrecks.

WET/iY A SI) FACT.

In Real's beantlfnl poem, "Iiamia,"' a young man has been led captive by phantom girl, and is mado tbe slave of her beauty, until an old teacher comes in and fixe* bis eye upon the figure, and it vanish'1" in its true form of a slimy serpent. This is poetry now for fnci. Disease iu various forms seizes upon young men and old, and especially noes it affect the kidneys and liver, and begin insidiously to'work ruin and death. But Hunt's Remedy,as the old teacher, comes in, and the slimy serpent of disease glides away. At Vir«t. men fhink that atMseased liver or disordered kidneys Is a mere phantom, and go on th*-lr way negle^-iing the evil, and not res 117, ing their danger. But thi* is not som*thingtobe trifled with. Call ia Hunt's Remedy atotsce: tt will both reveal tbe demon^and cast it out. For kidney, liver, and urinary complaints there is nothing like it. *Wo-,ifn tli.it have been bedridden for years !:«\e 1# completely cured by the tme of Lydia K. Piukbarn Vegetable Com pou nd.

A World want* proof. "The proof of the pudding is tbe eating thereof," and not in chewing tbe string w|.--!» tied tbe bag. Tbemore take Dr. Red Clover Ionic. It cure* all blood disorders, torpid liver,, sick headache, costiveness ana all disease* of tbe tiAiiartr organs. Tbe beat appetiser and tonic known. Sold by Mofiatt A Gulick. Fifty cents per bot-1 tie. I) rive Tk«awia4 L«tt#rs Eavebe^n received bv tbe proprietor of White Wine of Tar Syrup, from parties claiming to have been cured of consumption. by it* n*o.

::?v/"7

entered, casting aside her bonnet at tbe same time, with pretty, girlish art, willing to make her advent charming, ing. Greetiugs—wami. unconventional,

ing. Greetiugs— waim. unconventional, American giceling—weie exchanged,

Sir Ralph slowly arose to his feet upon the entrance of the lamily, scarcely obtruding a glance, and, with well bred courtesy, was about to retire, when something in the voice of Pauline arrested him. He turned sharply about and then seiidng her arm gazed upon her face. This appeared rudeness caused her to recoil from him with the witcb-mark upon her brow as defined as in her earlier days. "MaryGreame! Can it bo? Speak! From hctice arc you "Pauline Lingard," replied the girl, in a low voice, won to a feeling of pity for the distressed Baronet. «"Tbo art my child—my child!"' he exclaimed, vehcmenently. "That is the Dinsmore mark upon vour brow—the witch-mark of vulgar rr.inda."

The whole now flashed over the mind of Panline, and she exclaimed "Oh. George! George! Why did I ever leave the hut under the rocks? Take me back, father Take tnc back Let me die with you ar.d she clung to the neck of Capt. Radford, who, disengaging her arms, laid her fainting in those of his wife. "A fatal, fatal work is mine," whispered the artist, turning away. "I/st us hope not," said tho Barnoct, "Let me relato what transpired nearly twenty years ago. The captain of my yacht was a fine, manly fellow, who for several years was my companion in excursions to the south of hurope, along the northern shores of Scotland, and the Hebrides, (juick of thought, handsome in person, and in every way endearing himself to me, 1 forgot that thososame qualities might make tliier way to the heart of a young girl."

Pauline bent her witch-look earnestly upon the sjfOrtker, who, gaung at her, said: "There, with such a face, such a look, Mary often sal at the feet of her mother, and lured away the heart of Donald Greame. 1 saw it all when it was too late."#

Why talk iu this wise, sir?"hobroko in Capt. Radford. "A true-hearted sailor is lit tor a queen, letting alono an idle hussy lolling upon shipboard."

Tho Baronet, unused to American views iu this relation, showed tbe witcbmark across his brow, eyeing the speaker with puzzled scrutiny. "Go on, sit let us hear how it ended," continued the captain. Turning, at the same time, to his son, ho muttered "George is uo interloper, at homo or nbroad."

There is little more to tell. The lovers were married with my consent, and be took charge of a line fast-sailing vessel, in which Mary went with her several voars. This briganflno was named Lingard, a Iwautiful craft fitted out with all the appliances that wealth could furnish lo make a home for wife and child, and the latter must be the Pauline Lingard, the witch of the wreck. They embarked for Quebec, and lrom that day to this, no tidings ever came of her.

f:

c-

MOTHERS NOVEUS. The writer of "Hotae and Soci savs in the Decembsv number

(^*niury-

Pauline presenting her cheek for the In reading the sterws, l»»ng i»nl family kiss For the tirst time in his which have apj»eared in The I life, the pulse of the artist thrillled at during the past year, I

the touch of his velvet cheek. For the by one point of s:»iHarity iu th first time she was uot merely an object and that is the colorless character of artistic beautv, but a warm embodiment of that maiden grace and loveliness which uo manful eye can look upon with indiflerence.

Pauline shrank from his embrace. She glanced at George, at Capt. Radford and then with a graceful movement, laid hor head upon the shoulder of the Uuence is very apparent. They tal latter, bursting iuto tears. very active part in society, for th« "Pauline Lingard! 'Lingard!' That no time, being strongly disposed to was the name of the ship in which my the burden of household labor from daughter embarked, and was never heard daughters. This is not surprising from after leaving the port. The brigan- one remembers that they must tine Lingard." from experience that In this servant

have

been

subordinate positions assigned mothers. And upon retlectiou I this has become a marked charac' of Americau fiction. I recall ui less novels, the heroines of whu bright, intelligent girls, the (HH American type, on gocd terms wit I fathers, whom they generally rese The fathers are of all sorts, bu mothers only vary in being gata or silent thev are all essentially uion-place, doing the housework*, out influence in the family, domin over by the daughters, anil tieated good-uatured contempt by their bands. Is this a true picture of A can life? If so, what becomes of vivacious, intelligent girls?

If

riage deprive them of the graces cf hotd, and arrests the development nobler qualities of maturity, they be wise to remain unmarried. not think it a true picture. Certaii is not true of the women of the west. I know many noble, intell women, of middle' ago, mothe growu daughters, on whom

land there is little relief from dot drudgery after marriage. Wlmt A can girls, with the liberty allowed might become without the wise con alive Influence of the mothers 1 dre contemplate. Nor is the American as black, as she is paiutod. Though generally thinks she is as good a jt of "what is what" as any one, she an unbounded love and reverence her mother, and often yields, out of pect to her, to opinions which she sidors old-fashioned or prudish. Tho the position of the mother must inconspicuous one, her influence strongest in the world. American nr. istsshould depict American mother most of them are intelligent, devo self-sacriliciug.

%•"Middle measures are often middling measures. There aro "middli'igs" about Kidney-Wort, the most thoroughly refined "flowmedicino. It Knows no hair measures, but radically uproots all eases of

sthe

kidneys, liver and bow-

It overthfows piles, abolishes const lion and treats lliesystem

so

gently

soolhlnglv as to prove its true kind-k to nature in all its praises, li in both liquid and dry form.

Free nil Mlniitwrw vf 4'hiirW I will send one bottle of the Wi Wine of Tar Syrup, gratis, to any istor that will recommend it to friends, after giving it a fair test, am proves satisfactory for coughs, co throat or lung disease, 1)K.

C. 1. WAHNKR, Heading Mich

That BROWN'SIRON BITTERS will cure the worst case of dyspepsia.

Will insula hearty appetite and increased digestion.

Cures general debility, and gives a new lease of life,

On

•Bt'cHcrAi«t,n iff.- snnoylnp K' |K

Si. bre

-f

Dispels nervous depression and low spirits.

Restores an exhausted nursing mother to full strength and gives abundant sustenance for her child.

Strengthens the muscles and' nerves,enriches the blood

Overcomes weakness, wakefulness, and lack ofenergy

Keeps off all chills, fevers,, and other malarial poison.

Will infuse with new the weakest invalid.

life

37 W»Jlc«r Si., Baltimore, Dec. iSSr. For si* years I have been a great tufTercr from blood Di*caae, I)y*pcpaia.andConxripatioiKand became •o debilitated that I could not rerain anything on my utoraach, in fact, life had almo*t become a burden.

Finally, when hope had atmo*t me, hatband aeeina BMOWH'»left

IKOWmyBtTTKR*

adrertl*ed in lh

per, induced me to give it a trial. am now taking the third bottle and have hot frit »o well In »iw year* aa I do at tbe present time.

Mr*. l~ K. Gturns.

BROWN'S IRON BITTERS will have a better tonic effect upon any one who needs bracing up," than any tucdicinc made.

L. A. BURNETT,

Peek Again, and

Heady

the

lor

Fall Campaign.

1 bav«' ju4 rwelved full and complete assortment of FKEXCH, KlPsnd CAI.FfLevtn 4 Mrrcieri, BUFPAIX)HLAU«HTKRi»i,

KM LOCK (HOLE, OAK and KM LOO? OCT POLEKand HALF KOI.E8. A compute stock of 8IIOK FIXL»IN08 ai*l TANNKH-HOIL.

IIEHT PLAKTEKEH'S, tlOU and CATTI4? If A IK. CAM If PAID for HI

DEB,TALLOW, RE Eft.

WAX,MilKKP «KIN8,a»d RAW KLfltS. No. Si", acKtlh rtde, Walnnt *trc«t, opportv* Market