Terre-Haute Weekly Express, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 8 December 1869 — Page 1

I

Tim St. Louis Democrat calls hanging legalized murder.

A. D. RICHARDSON died at the Astor House Thursday morning at five o'clock.

THE Buffalo Express intimates that it is more than half inclined to favor the plan for the division of the State of New York.

TJIE proposed reciprocity treaty with Canada appears to have few friends among the members of either branch of Congress.

FOR a political neo-paper the Journal is singularly reticent in relation to the very interesting fight among the Democracy of Indianapolis.

DEMOCRATIC CONSISTENCY in opposing the Fifteenth Amendment is happily illustrated by the action of the members of that party in the Alabama Legislature, in voting for a colored man for Engrossing Clerk, and electing him over his white competitor.

TUP: PUGNACIOUS PROPRIETOR of the Sentinel is represented as perambulating the streets of the capital city in the vain hope that "The Little Thimble Rigger" will tread upon the tail of his coat!

IT IS ANNOUNCED that DELMAR lias 'purchased the National Intelligencer, and it is to be issued under his direction. New York Democrats and capitalists are interested with Mr. DKIJMAR in the enterprise.

THE Cincinnati Chronicle comes to us in a new and attractive dress, and bearing other unmistakably evidences of that substantial prosperity which so excellent a journal deserves. May it live long to "fight the good fight and keep the faith."

A NUMBER of our exchanges arc discussing the interesting question, "when shall the State Convention be held?" with apparently as much zeal as if the matter had not already been finally decided by the Central Committee in favor of the 22d of February.

A CORRESPONDENT of the Hudson, Michigan, <Post> suggests the adoption of a plan—which, he says, is now in use in Hillsdale—whereby the "Bible question" may be compromised. Those children who wish, or whose parents demand that they shall be present at the religious exercises of the school, assemble a quarter of an hour before the regular time. ———<>———

AT A RECENT MEETING of the Philadelphia Medical Society it was resolved to "•outlaw any member of the profession who should consult with any female physician in llio treatment of a case. This may he •set J'own as a very foolish thing on the part of the rcsolvers. The common sense of mankind has. decided that woman should and shall have a place in the medical profession. The old fogies will resolve in vain.

IT !S THE opinion of the Philadelphia JVrss that the National Labor Convention of colored men, which meets in Washington nn Monday, will be the largest in point of numbers, influence, and intelligence, of any similar body of colored men icver assembled in this country. Delegates have boon o.lected from the States

'of Texas- Mississippi, Alabama, Lotiisi•sna, Florida, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania, New York, Massachusetts, Rhode "Island, Tennessee, Ohio, Kentucky, and the District ofColumbia. Among the del-S-ATOS is Gen. ('I.AIIKE, of Texas, and a tonViiher of other white gentlemen, and female delegates have been elected from the

Slates of New York and Rhode Island. General lil'TI.KR will address the convention on the first, and Hon. HENRY WII.•sox on (Jt'c second day of its session.

THE comparatively limited number of candidates for places on the KcpuhliCart State ticket is a good indication. Nothing tends more strongly to the demoralization of a party than the ill-feeling that is ofloii creatu'd by the too zealous efforts of rival candidates. Let the parly call for men when they are wanted. Xo man ever had a valid "claim" upon bis parly for any ollicial position, and the noisy assertion of such imaginary "claims" is -iiYipIv disgusting. It is right that distinguished service should be appreciated and rewarded, but such recognition should come from the people, and should not be prompted by the demands of the man who has performed the service. We hope the time is coming when loud-mouthed bellowers for plunder will tind their occupation a non-paving one, and when a decern degree of modesty will he required, even of politicians.

THE New "\ork Tribune gives an instance of a curiously guarded verdict rendered by an Investigating Committee. It appears that at Saginaw, Mich., one of the public school teachers, having unduly and inordinately clvAstised a pupil, the Hoard of Education appointed a Committee :o investigate the llagellat ion. These wiscai'ies in iiine, and after much cogitation and the taking of a great deal of testimony, did finally report "that the punishment was not actuated by malice, but was occasioned by an undue appreciation wftho thickness of the boy's pantaloons." This was certainly leaning to the side of inercv, as to the teacher, but we should tike to know what the boy thought about it. Hereafter, the Tribune suggests, liefore Hogging, the castigator should carefully ascertain the density of the outside integuments.

The Public Debt.

The telegraphic statement of the public debt on the 1st inst., which appears elsewhere, shows the gratifying reduction of $7,571,454 13 during the month of November. Since March 1st, 1869, the debt has been reduced at an average of over <eight millions> per month, or the rate of about <one hundred millions> of dollars per year. This ratio of reduction will discharge the whole debt inside of twenty years. Each month indicates the financial policy of Secretary BOUTWELL, and shows the public that he is the right man to be at the head of the Treasury Department. The premium on gold is being gradually worked down, and is kept lessening by judicious sales of the surplus coin in the Treasury, the proceeds

of which are applied to the reduction of the public debt. All this is being accomplished, by the administration, without producing any monetary panic or interfering with the great business interests of the country. No one can say truthfully that the financial management of GRANT'S administration is not judicious and proper. The revenue is being honestly collected and all the surplus, beyond payment of the ordinary expenses of the government and the appropriations of Congress, is being constantly applied to the reduction of the public debt. The amount of reduction since Gen. GRANT'S inauguration, March 1st, 1869, a period of nine months [illegible]en over <seventy two millions> of dol[illegible] over <eight millions> of dollars per

TERMS $2.00 A YEAR!

THE President has made up a full list of the persons whom he intends to appoint to the circuit judgeships, and will .send the nominations to the Senate very goon after it assembles. Considerable anxiety Is evinced by the numerous applicants and their friends about the names included in the list, but the President invariably refuses to answer their questions regarding them. It has, nevertheless, transpired, if we may credit sundry correspondents, that Judge DUNMORE, of Chicago, has been selected for the Seventh district, comprising the States of Indiana, Illinois and Wisconsin. He was recommended by the Congressmen from the two latter States.

IT "WOULD be eminently proper," says the Journal, for the New York Legislature to repeal the action of the last Legislature ratifying the Fifteenth Amendment. No doubt it "would be eminently proper" and altogether consistent for Democracy to attempt any foolish thing. Its brains are so paralyzed by butting against "the car of Progress" that, like the Billy goat in the old song, it will continue butting till nothing is left but its caudal appendage. In this ease, however, the performance would be so ridiculous a farce that even Bourbonism would hardly go through it. Any tolerably well-informed hoy could tell the Journal that the assent of a Legislature to a proposed amendment to the fundamental law of the land is irrevocable. The New York Legislature may resolve and re-resolve, but the action of the last General Assembly of that State in relation to the Fifteenth Amendment is final. The good work is done, past recall, and if New York Democrats had any sagacity left they would "accept the situation" and "go for" the colored vote.

IT APPEARS that at the funeral ceremonies of Mr. GEORGE PEAHODY in Westminster Abbv, the old mutes were introduced as a part of the performance, extorting smiles instead of compelling a deeper sorrow. The head mute came in bearing on his head, like an Italian image vender, a blackboard with huge black plumes. Antiquity was thus brought into the blaze of modern light and when it provokes only smiles, somebody says the hint is sufficient for its removal. England hangs on toiler old customs a great while. She is afraid of the new. It is art instinct with her to shrink from it.— How much more gratification it would have given Mr. PEABODY himself, remarks a Boston journal, if he were cognizant of these last respectful ceremonies, to have been followed to his grave by a concourse of the London middle-classes and ixjor, whom lie had benefitted in so royal a manner, than to be cereinonied bv titled people in the name of the poor whom they care nothing at all about.— Those to whom Mr. PEAHODY gave his fortune, and for which the upper classes honored him, were the ones of all others to be excluded at his funeral. So the world goes—in England.

State Finances.

The Auditor of State has been at work for some time past in making up his footings for the fiscal year which ended on the 31st of October last, and we are able, through the kindness of J. C. Burnett, Deputy, to publish some highly interesting and valuable figures showing lie reduction which has been made in the State debt, as follows: Five l^cr cent stocks outstanding

October 31, 1868 83.322.S24 61! Issilcd during the year ct'O 00

Total 93,323,324 Ofi Redeemed during the year l,)Stf,30S Si

Outstanding October 31,1S69 ?1 ,G3f\95l),33 Two-and-n-'half per cent stocks outstanding October 31, ISliS 7,2nO 13 Issued during the year "00 00

Total 5 J/™ 13 Redeemed during the year 3,220 00

Outstanding October 31, 1S69 War loan bonds outstanding Get.

31, ISliS

Redeemed during the year

THE COMMON" SCHOOLS.

In this connection, the following figures siiving the condition of the School Fund of the State, the relative increase and the school revenue, together with the resources from whence tIfey were derived, will also be found very interesting and valuable, showing as thev do a most healthy increase and an aggregate amount of which the citizens of the State may well feel proud:

COMMON SCHOOL KCM).

Amount of fund held by Co's, May Y8 Sl,o22,410 28 Added since from fines and forfeitures 3\7.Vi o7 Added since from other sources S0t) S7

Amount of fund May, lSft 2,221.399 77

Atnoint of Common and Congressional Funds. Added vai-ic of 21.S01 acres of unsold Congressional bonis

A Little Goosey.

The following exquisitely simple verses, from the pen of an "unknown," will touch the heart of every father and mother: The chill November day was done,

The working world home faring: The wind came roaring through the streets And set the gaslights flaring And hopelessly a-:d aimlessly

The seared old leaves were flying When mingled with the soughing wind I heard a small voice crying—

And shivering on the corner stood A child of four or over Xo cloak or bather small, soft arms

And wind-blown curls to cover. Her dimpled face was stained with tears: Her round blue eyes ran over She cherished in her wee, cold hand,

A bunch of faded clover-

And one hand round her treasure, while She slipped in mine the other: Half scared, half confidential, said.( '"Oh! please, I want my mother.' "Tell me your street and number, pet

Don't erv, I'll take you to it." Sobbing, she answered, "I forget The organ made me do it,

"lie came and played at Mifly's steps The monkey took the money. And

so

I followed down the street.

The monkey was so funny. I've walked about a hundred hours, From one street to another The money's gone, I've spoiled my flowers

Oh please, I want my mother."

'But what's your mother's name, and what The street? now think a minute. "My mother's name is mama dear—

The street—I can't begin it." "But what is strange about the house, Or new, not like the others?" "I guess you mean my trundle bedi

Mine and my little brother a.

"Oh, dear! I ought to be at homo To help him say his prayers lie's such a baby, he forgets,

And we are both such players And there's abar between to keep From pitching on each other. For llarry rolls when he's asleep

Oh, dear! I want my mother.

The sky grew stormy people passed All muffled, homeward faring "You'll have to spend the night with me,

I said, at last, despairing. I tied a kerchief round her neck— "What ribbon's this my blossom? "Why! don you know?" she sullling asked,

And drew it from her bosom.

A card, with number, street and name, Sty eyes astonished met it: "For," said the little oiu "you see

I might some time forge' it. And so I wear the little thing That tells you all about it: For mother says she's very sure

I would get lort without it.

A NOVEMBER AFTERNOON.

BY KEBECCA HARDING DAVIS. The wind off the Delaware was keen. It reddened the no*es of the pretty young rrjlrs hurrying home up Chestnut street, and brightened their eves their plaid cloaks and scarlet plumes fluttered the red sunset flittered on the windows people called gayly to each other as they passed out'of every area window came savorv whiffs of dinner. The world. ro Sam Bender, had never seemed more insultingly good-liumored. "How d'ye like this blow, Sam? Smells winterish, eh?" "How goes it, Bender?" "What's the good news, Sam?"

Bender turned at this. It was little Joe Houston, one of his fellow-clerks, who had tapped him 011 the back. "Good news? no good news," turning grullly awav. Yet he wished the fantastic little fellow would stay with him. He felt terribly alone—as"he had never done before in all bis life—things bad readied such a narrow strait with liini to-day "Tut, tut. Bender? You're morbid since you've been sick. Do you think you're the first man that's had tvphoid?" "I've lost more than health. I find today Slouch stopped my salary after the first week." "Whew! But, after all, what's money, bov?

Can

•1,710 13

210,000 00 fi.OOO 00

Outstanding October 31, ISliO S 204,000 00 STATU OE1IT. October 31, 18(50: Five per cont stocks ^I,(86,.o0 33 'L'n n-and-a-half per cent stocks 4,740 13 War loan bonds 204,000 00

Total SI,S45,t9(5 4C Redeemed during the year: Five per ccut stocks Sl,0ho,oo8 o3 Two-and-a-half per cents..... War loan bonds (,000 00

Total S1,695,58S 33 It will be seen.from the above that the State debt has been reduced almost one half during the past year, and that, if the levy had been made its heavy for this year as it was last, the State would have been nearly or quite out of debt. The bust Legislature. however, very properly, seeing as they did how nearly the State was out of debt, preferred to make the State levy lower for the years IStiO and 1870, so as to pay off the debt in two years instead of one.

In addition to the foregoing, which is known md spoken of as the foreign debt, the State has also outstanding, in the way of a domestic debt—

Of non-negotiable School Fund bonds $3,551.31fi la Vincenncs University bonds 00

Total...... $3,014,001 15 This is a debt of long time, which the State really owes to herself.

$.",7$3,S? 49

107.919 15

Total ain't of .nds $3,S01,2)1 W INDIANA 1CHOOL FUNDS. Xon-negotiable State 2»nds 53,551,316 15 Bonds cancelled. (Actst.S. 18(59!. 40.000 00 Common school fund held ivCo's. 2,.Vv$,!T72 72 Cong'l school fund held by(.Vg 2,221.399 77 Value of unsold Oong'l lands 107.919 15 Saline Fund on loan 3,72i 05 Saline Fund in Treasury ].:US 90 Bank tax fund on loan 1,SJ 99 Bank tax fund in Treasury 107 07 Escheated estates lO.Tw 42 Sinking fund S0S.963 15

Amount of fund 1S39 $8,314,852 01 Amount of fund 18t8 8,259,341 34

Increase $ SCHOOL RYKNUC. School revenue for tuition for the vear ending October, ISfiO— Amount collected by tax .... Interest on common school funds. Liquor licenses Unclaimed fees State's indebtedness paid State's interest on bopds paid Other sources

55,511

sordid dust make the "bosom's

lord sit lighter 011 his throne?" tapping his faudv little waistcoat theatrically. "Anvliow, I don't believe Slouch knew anvthins About it. It is that cursed old Morris." "What does that matter? Its gone. I have been saving for years to pay off the mortgage on our house. I'll have to take the money to clear of the debts of the last three months, and the mortgage falls due to-morrow." "That's the devil's own luck! Such a snug little house, too! How long have voulived there Sam?"

I was born in it. It's the Bender homestead. I've been saving ever since was married, to pay of that mortgage. But now—" "Mary's dune her share Of saving, too,

Bender was silent a moment. "I have 110 fault to find with my wife," he said, coldly.

No chance of renewal?" None. lie is glad of the chance to foreclose." "Too bad, too bad!" He was chewing his

sandy

[moustache. Joe was always tidget-

ty and in motion. "There's Kitty Stouch

coming

now. She's brick of a girl!

Know licv? It would be worlh a _fellow's while to cut in there hey? If you've nothing more to say, 1 11 join her, Sam,' his eager face growing as red as his hair theyoung lady came near. 'I've nothing more to say." "I5ve, then!" touching his cap and skipping off to the side of the large, calm-eyed blonde who was now abreast of them, llerhcavv, lustrous silk brushed against Sam as "she swept by. When Houston joined her he spoke eagerly, motioning back to Sam then thev both laughed. What had induced Bender to make a confidant of the man? Ilecurscd his own folly, looking alter him as he went skipping along, light as a grasshopper. Yet he used to think Joe was softhearted as a woitn. But what did it nutter to anv man that lie stood there ruined to-dav, tiie patient toil of years swept

awav

in 011c blow? What did the world care? Or Cod?—if there were a God. He looked for a few minutes stolidly over the heads of the gay, moving crowd into the clowdy sky.

Onlv a vear a ago Sam had been a rigid church member, teaching a class of boys in the Sundav School. He tried to teach them to trust in a living Christ, to trust in each other constantly growing stronger himself from the teaching. Now—

Ii was not the loss of the money. But that Marv should have turned from him. He walked down the street, his head on his breast. Then he came slowly back to the door of Sauls' ware-rooms. In a few minutes he could know the worst, and he would not shirk it-

He did not remember evfr to have noticed this place particularly before. It was a

seven-storied

the

$1,55$,972 72

'CONUKKSSION VI. FCXn.

Annum* of said fund held bv counties, May.lSW S2.211.4-v 51 Since added from sale oflands 12.044 25

white marble building—

ware-rooms above, the ground-floor

occupied

as a sale department. The man­

ufacture was exclusively that of gas fixtures. The windows, besid one of which he stood, were filled with coclv hroiues the loftvceiling of the room within glittered with chandeliers and lustres. Two or three of these great gewgaws would have paid for his home, he thought, bitterly. It was strange that, at that moment, when he was waiting to know if hi* wife were true or false to him, the loss of the home should have recurred to him.

But it had become, through long years of waiting, of penny-saving and self-denial, a mania with Bender. "Saul, Oromplon ,V' Saul"—he read (lie name of the firm over and over. The Sauls were merchant princes—Ilicksite Friends. He knew their stately houses out 011 Locust street. It was Crompton whom Morris, the overseer, had told him, with so meaning a smile, was a gay fellow, "not to be trusted with so pretty a wife as yours, Bender."'

It was only this morning that Morris had told him this, when he had crept down to the office for the first time after his three months' illness. He felt when ht opened the office door, as if it were the ghost if Sam Bender who was going in, the strength was so drained out of his body. Then, he had, for a long time noticed the changs in Mary—how pre-occnpied she was, silent,^oing about the house with her thoughts far off. He had not failed to note her long absences, even when he was still ill, and needed, or thought he needed, her constant care.

23

$997,653 41 10S.710 38 89.25S 00 1.249 75 50,000 00 213.07S 97 36,437 St

Total.im't of revenue for tuition. ..$l.49f,3$S .vi Amount apportioned .1.4SW8 l-

This thing had worked a deep change 111 him. Sam Bender was not the man to ask questions or chatter over his jealousy

or wounded love. He only put his wife coldly from him, a little space, and waited. At the most, he fancied that she had grown wearied of the sick-room and sick man. But when she was put away from him, the soul seemed to grow weak in his weak body. They had been a peculiarly loving husband and wife.

Th it morning, Morris had told him first, of the stoppage of his salary. "Ve-ry-sorry, Mr. Bender glad to have you back again in the works. But the salary only went on for one week. Very true, very true, Mr. Stouch has been in the habit of continuing back pay with some old retainers. But we are drawing in,sir drawing in. The money-market never was so tight."

It was as Bender walkog^ away from the desk that Morris called him back, and asked him about Mary. "A particular friend of young Crompton's, eh?" "My wife does not know Mr. Crompton. Nor do I." "No? Better if you did then" with a serious look. "Mrs. Bender does. I meet them sauntering along in the evening together frequently. Crompton's an attractive fellow. No wonder women like him for a friend. Irish, you know gay, handsome, genial. Too attractive to be trusted with as pretty a woman as your wife, Bender, if you'll allow me to say it.'' "I will not allow you to say it, Mr. Morris. You do not know my Mary, and are not capable of judging her. For my part, I am glad if she has made a pleasant friend.''

IStorris laid down his pen and came outside of the desk railing. "Now, don't be offended and sulky, lad," drawing him aside. "I'm an older man than you. I know women better. They are nervous and magnetic, especially highspirited, delicate women like your Mary, if that's her name. They grow tired of the jog-trot life at home, and the dull, daily talks with their husbands. They pine for some repetition of the old romantic, love-mak-ing days. So they form a platonic friendship. "That's the worst I .ever suspected of yotir wife—a platoiUc friendship. But if she were my wife," emphatically, "I would as lief another man kissed her lips as paltered in that fa-shion with her heart," "I am not afraid." Coldly._ "Of course not. Oh, certainly not! I'm sorry I mentioned it." "On the contrary, I am obliged to you for your interest in me. But you are mistaken." "Well, good-day, Bender. You 11 ke on hand to-morrow? By-the-way, though, it was odd that Mrs. Bender did not mention Cromptoii to you?"

He was not angry with Morris, though be had tried to blind him as he did. The old man wanted to save him and her.

He did not go home again, though he had promised Mary to be back by noon. He had not intended to begin work until the next day. He told her he would bring the back salary with him, in time for her to pay off the pressing bills that afternoon. He would draw the money from the savingf-bank, too, to clear the mortgage. But, onjleaving Morris, he had gone wandering aimlessly about the streets, out to Fairmount at last, down between the great wheels, over which the river rushed in a hell of sound. It would be so easy to end all! But Bender was a slow, phlegmatic man, not apt to be moved by any sudden temptation.

He came came back to Chesnut street in the afternoon. Young Ward met him, one of the clerks of the savings-bank. "Hello! Sam. You told me you meant to draw that little pile of your's to day. Bank's just closing. If you want it, come along." "Yes, I suijpose so," following him. "Going to clear your mortgage, eh? That's clever. Well there you are,"counting out notes, and smiling over the counter. Sam smiled back at him. Then he went out, and down to Saul & Crompton's. He would meet her there, if it w'astrue: the devil whispered that into his car as a certainty. He had been standing by the window"for about an hour when Joe Houston passed.

People went in and out of the show­

rooms

but Mary's slight figure, in the

well-worn brown suit, was not among them. He peered in now and then through the shining vista of gilt work and colored glass, to see Crompton. He would know him at the first sight, he knew— "tall, genial, handsome." There no one like him among the dapper little clerks. It began to grow dark at last. He went in. "Is Mr. Crompton in?" "I11 his private office, sir. Second floor. Will von walk up?"

One of the clerks was coming down the stairs. "He is engaged just now, Phil, A ladv" "'Will you wait, sir?" said the first, down," pushing a stool toward him, ing how white and weak he was. "I'll go.outside into the air." "Y011 may miss Mr. Crompton

Sam halted, and then went on. "Poor devil, I wonder whether women or whiskey have driven him mad," thought Cromptou, beginning his tunc again a moment after.

Bender went down toward Fourth street with slow, resolute steps. His okl strength seemed to have come back to him in the last half hour. Stopping at a larije board-ing-house he sent in for Ward, the bank clerk. They had been old chums in Bender's bachelor days. "Lend me your revolver, Ilortcef I'll be done with it by to-morrow. Mine is broken and I never bought another.,' "Of course." Ward vanished and reappeared in a moment. "What are yon going to shoot, Sam—rats?

Bender took the pistol and turned away without speaking. He had been deaf and blind to every sight or sound of thestreets since Mary's voice rung in his ears. After he was gone his manner recurred to Ward as strange and unpleasant. "I believe I'll go after him," he thought. But dinner was ready, and he turned oack into the dark entry and, being a fetherbeaded young fellow, forgot the whole matter speedily.

The pistol was not charged. Bender stopped at a shop on the way up street, and loaded it carefully. It was nearlvdark

tja? ,s«-1

TERRE-HAUTE, INDIANA, WEDNESDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 8,1869

when he reached his own steps. Mary opened the door before he could touch it. She wore yet her silk dress and her pretty collar of fine lace: her hair was curled about her face her cheeks were pink and hot her liquid eyes brilliant with a new fire. He saw it all. What was it Morris had said about their hunger for a repetion of the old love-making, days? She put up her mouth to be kissed, as usual, and when he passed her, hurried in after him, taking his hand. "Poor old papa! He's tired! Go in, Jackey don't worry father now."

So skilled in the deception already! She was leading him into the dining room, where supper was spread but he put lier quietly aside and passed up to his own room. She followed him. "You are worn out. Why did you stay in the works all day?" coming behind him and putting her white hands 01 .• shoulder as he sat staring into the li' When he did not answer, she drew his head back on her breast and kissed his_ lips. That kiss set fire to the smouldering madness within the man but he was always quiet and grave. He looked her steadily in the eyes. How beautiful the face was that bent over him! Some dainty Ariel of a spirit loooked out of it which he had never conquered nor owned. He saw that clearly now.

She turned away from him at last, and busied herself about the room—went down and brought him a cup of tea. The farce of playing the wife over, she became absent, as was usual with her now her thoughts far off. He took out the roll of notes, and laid them down on the mantle-shelf. "There is the mortgage money." "Yes." She did not brighten and flush as she would once have done. He remembered how often she had fUken out her pencil and counted up these savings in a triumphant sum, drawing a little framework of vines about it, and presenting it to him with her joyous little chuckle. She scarcely glanced at the money now. But he would try her further. "I caririot itse it for the mortgage. Stouch refuses to pay the back salary." "Then the mortgage will be forclosed to-morrow? And you will lose your home?" She came suddenly close to him, her face colorless, her dark eyes wet and full of pitv. Not love. He was not deceived.

Not love.

She

He

comes down the private stairs often 011 the other street. Shall I send your name up?" "No." He went out to the other street. He knew Crompton would come down the private stairs. He knew who would be with him. The door of this side entrance was narrow there was a fruiterer's stall next to it. Standing in the shadow, Bender was almost concealed from view.

Half an hour passed the State-house clock struck five. He moved to go aw:ty. After all, it might be but a develish dream. Mary was at home, doubtless, watching at "the window for him, with •lackey in her arms.

The door above opened. There was a moment's pause, and then a man's voice. "Takecare. The stairs are dark. Give me your hand." A ringing, rich voice, such as would belong to a genial, lovemakinglrishman, softened now to a very tender'inflection. Then there was a quick light, step upon the stairs. Bender had learned to know it years ago. They came out together upon the pavement. Mary's dress almost touched her husband it was her one good dress, the brown silk so long kept for church, She had a bit of blue chenile, too, twisted in and out of the coils of her black hair. It was manv a day since she had taken that trouble to look fair in his eyes! They spoke together in a low tone, Cromp.on urging something which she faintly resisted, lie prevailed at last, though. "I will be thereat nine, then?" raising his voice. "At nine, if you will," she said, gently. "Will it be safe?" "Oil, quite safe. He goes to bed early since bis sickness. Poor old Sam!" with a nervous laugh. "Shall I not go home with you now? It grows late." "No, 110. We may be seen together. He held her hand in his ti moment, and then she was gone. Crompton stood still, looking after her. Bender came up the pavement and faced him. His face was so ghastly and menacing that the younger man drew back, and the air died on his lips which he wa-^ softly burning. The low sunlight fell on his elegantly-adressed figure as he stood there—011 the flushed, handsom face, with its full,, reddish beard and hair.

No wonder she had some little compassion for the man 111 whose bosom she had lain for years, on this night when she meant to fly from him. "Poor old Sam!" "The loss Of the house nlattCrs little to us now." "Why, I thought your heart was bound up in it." She paused suddenly, a keen suspicion Hashing into her face. "What else have you lost?

For a moment there was silence, the husband and wife looking steadily at each other, the oil-lamp burning with uncertain yellow flashes between them. "I do not know," he said at last, in as quiet a tone as though replying to an ordinary question, what there is left tome. /There is nothing on God's earth that I cah call my owii."

She did not answer by a word .J bin stood motionless, with the samp penetrating, doubtful look fixed 011 him. Now, Mary was not naturally a rcticent woman all her emotions bubbled straight to the surface. She had been a gay, giddy girl and now, when she was a mother, she kept the house alive with what her husband censured as a most unmatronly light-heartedness singing, jesting, laughing most of the time, and washing away any trouble in a shower of tears. Her immobility now proved how deep his thrust had wounded her. "Youv'e nobody in the world? Nobody' Not even me," she said, slowly, «it last. She turned to the window, putting her hands for support, on an old chair that stood there. It was a worn and shabby chair but she had nursed both the children in it. Jackey and little Jenny: Jenny who was dead who Would never lie 011 her breast again. Did she remember?

looked at it, and then at him

for a moment and then, without a word, turned away and left the room. He knew that she would never enter it again. It was strange how many of these intutions, amounting to certainties, came to him to-night. He thought that pain, in this great crisis, of his life, had given him a spiritual clearness of insigbt. Another person might have suggested that the devil helped him.

It was only seven o'clock there were two hours yet to pass before the end. He sat bv the fire, pushing the poker between the bars, looking around him. Thero was nothing in the cheaply-furnished, pretty chamber that' had not to-night a terrible meaning for him. He remembered when he had brought that very chair lionle, two or three weeks after Jack was born and, lifting Mary out of bed, had placed her 111 it and laid her baby in her arms.

hit

see-

That was only six years ago yet he thought of himself then as but a boy. What a perpetual frolic they made of life then! Hard at work and miserably poor but joking away all wearniness or want how full of joy and content the world was how many friends they had then!

He had learned since to see things dnferenlly. When he set his heart on paying off that mortgage, it seemed to suddenly open his eyes to the seriousness of life." It affected his religion. He began

to

see faults in the old friends who were in the habit of dropping in every day, finding Mary's bouse so pleasant he began to fear his own and his wife's spiritual character would suffer from contact with them one by one he had driven them oft'. As he stinted and saved more and more to gather this money, his ideas of duty hardened. He bad grown old and grave, while Marv remained the same cheerful, happy-tempered gir!.

1

To-night, for the first time, a dull doubt came to him, whether lie had not been to blame her perpetual good-humor, her eager interest 111 people about her, her singing, her noisy romps with Jack, all had seemed giddy and trivial to him he had rebuked her incessantly for them. "It is a solemn thing to live who could go dancing over gravcB?'' had come to be a proverb, with him. Could he have driven her from him? Driven her to a man whose temperament suited her own?

He was standing before a looking-glass, and he could not help comparing his own commonplace, gloomy face, with its su bbv black beard, to the gav, winning countenance that had won her from linn.

He p'lt his hand up to hide the face from himself. "I loved her," he said, quietly thinking that if she bad known how much, she would have forgiven him. He sat down again. Searching again for miserable secrets in the fire. He had become a wiser man since lie had been ill. Sitting staring dav after day into the embers, he had learned how utterly hollow the world was, liowtreacherous were men, and faithless were women. Nothing was true but God and as God, to Sam Bender, meant his own narrow notions of duty, there was nothing to lift him out of the slough in the thought there was nothing in it either to check him, in -the *lo".v, subtle madness that nerved him to his present purpose.

What maddening fancies those two hours brought to the unhappy man, it is needless for us to know.

The house remained very quiet. When Jaekey's bedtimeeame,be heard his mother bring him, the child to the door, and opened it for him to enter. But he would not look at the little fellow in his white night-gown.who stood pulling at his coat. Besidehim.on themamle-shelf.laythe pistol, readvy for use. He could not touch or look at the child, but motioned him away, turning his back on him.

Eight o'clock came. He heard his wife come again to the deor, softly listening. He remained quite still. She should think him asleep. "By nine o'clock all would be safe," was part of her plan.

The clock in the hall rang out halfpast eight. Nine. Bender took up the pistol, and concealing it in his breast, left the chamber. Passing the door of the child's room, he stopped and laid his hand on the wood—with a sudden, passionate tenderness, as though it had been the boy himself "Jackey 1 Jackey!" be cried Tomorrow the child would be alone—without father or mother. It might have been I Here different. I you

But it was too late now. He went down the stairs, and entered a small unliglitcd room adjoining the parlor. in another moment there was a roll of wheels on the street, a carriage stopped at the door, and then there was a low ring at the bell. "Thev carry the matter !oldly!" he muttered. Whatever agony of pain the old love that would not lie stilled had cost him to-night, was over now an implacable madness seized him the fury with which the hound pants the moment before it falls upon its prev. They were in his power.

He crept nearer to the door held it ajar, his hand upon the lock. He heard Crompton enter, and the next moment the soft rustle of Mary's dress. lie conld not distinguish her words, but the tones of her voice made him shudder. Not for years had they thrilled with such nervous, trembling joy as now. She laughed once, a low hysterical laugh not far from tears. Crompton spoke in a whisper.— Once she raised her voice a little. "You do not know what to-day is to me! I have waited for it for years!"

Bender raised his hand: his finger was on the trigger. He pushed the door: but before it opened, Mary left the parlor, going lightly up the stairs. She had apparently, forgotten something for her flight.

He stood waiting her steps sounded above him. When she should re-open the door would be his time.

She was on the stairs. One moment more—then—she broke into- the verse of an old song an old silly habit of hers to sing when her heart was full.

Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech. His breath like caller air. His very foot ha3 music in't

As it comes up the stair. For there's na luck about tho house, There is nae luck at a', ... There's little pleasure in the house,

When my gndeman's awn. It was his song. He had liked it best in their old courtinjMjays he had made her sing the childrei?» "sleep with it always.

The pistol dropped from his hand.— "She is true. My God! she is true!" He stood there, for how long he never knew. He heard the low murmur oftlieir voices. The devil, be sure, did not leave him altogether.

He fancied her hand in Crompton's: their lips meeting. But the weapon lay untouched at his feet.

Wliv should he not at least open the door?" lie bad a right to their secret, whether guilty or not. The man trembled great drops of sweat wrung out on his forehead. "She is mv wife. She is a true woman. Though she"kill me, yet I will trust in her." Yet there was nothing to fight back the devil of suspicion but that cheery old song.

The hall-door Opened and shut at last. There were hurried voices outside, and then the carriage rolled away. Was she gone?

He thrust the pistol in his breast, and opened the door. Mary stood there, her face flushed, tears in her eyes, folding up a strip of paper. When she saw him, she sprang forward, and hugged him close. "The money! the luoiiev!" she sobbed. "For the mortgage!" crying and laughing, telling him between times that she made it—she—in lier usual tumultuous fashion. "Couldn't he understand?" "No, I don't understand," he said, soothing and petting her as he had forgotten to do for many a long day. "I have been duller than you know, Mary. But it's over now, thank God." "It was all my drawing, you know, Sam. My one talent, as you used to call it. When you were so hardly pressed two years ago, I thought I might turn it to account. 1 went to the Academy of design. And I did turn it to account—in designing, Don't you understand now? Friend Matthew .Saul said I had a very pretty gift, indeed. Everybody was. anxious to help me. It's such a friendly world, Sam," creeping closer to him. "Is it Mary? Perhaps so. God knows." "So they took me into the establishment. and paid me for designing new patterns of gas fixtures. Ten dollars a stone. That was too years ago. And I have not drawn the money till to-day. I beared— taking breath, and speaking slowly, that you were not to receive your back pay. "So I went to Mr. Cromption this afternoon and asked for a setlcment. He is the business man, and so considerate and kind! I always thought how much alike you were, and what good friends you would be, when you knew him. It wasn't pay-day, and it'took some time to make out my account. But he offered to bring the money himself to night, that I might give it to oti as a surprise in the morning. And he "did bring it, and there is enough to pay off the mortgage and now have you nothing and nobody you can call your own, in the world—not even me?"

Sam Bender only held his wife close to his breast and kissed her. She was so used to his silence—when lie was deeply moved, that she did not heed it. "You thought me brutal—mad, tonight, Mary?" "Bless your dear old miserable face! How could I be so silly? You hayebeen ill and nervous, and the disappointment to-d ty was more than you could bear. I understood it all! I sent Jackey in, thinking he would comfort you. Shall we go and tell Jackey about the mortage?" anxiously. "I doiibt if he would understand." "Perhaps not,"looking blank. "Though Jackey understands a great many things that would surprise you. He's a very wise child. Who can that be so late? Mr. Crompton's carriage again!"

The door opened and the handsome Irishman entered, a lady 011 bis arm. He blushed a littleas he glanced down at her, laugliingand looking handsomer than ever. "I asked leave, Mrs. Bender, von remember, once, to make known my promised wife to you? I have brought her to-night. She'has an errand to your husband which,, she fancies,will not wait."

The words came to Bender like far-off, plea-ant sounds in a dream. How bright the fire glowed! What a cordial, wholesome ring there was in the man's voice! A fellow it would be good to know. '1 lie girl's face, too, was sweet and friendly he had seen it before, in soiile pleasant time which be could not remember. But there was no woman who would not look dark and dim beside Mary. Where had she hidden that tender, glowing beauty all these many years? The very familiar room had a look which it used to wear when the first glamour of their married life made everything about them mysterious and bright.

Was that old time coming again? Crompton's cheerful, ruddy face was before him. "I am so glad to have the chance of shaking you by the hand. I have been waiting for it a longtime."

Sam took the hand and shook it heartily. "Mrs Bender this is Miss Stouch, who hopes she will not bear that name a month longer."

The fair, calm-looking beauty took Mary's hand and then kissed her, after the manner of women. "I've heard all about the mortgage and the secret," she whispered. "Wasn't it delicious? Bui I have a message for your husband. Papa bade me say to you, Mr. Bender," turning, with a business-like look, to Sam, "that he has been ill for several weeks—that horrid rheumatism it is and he had to leave the business almost entirely in the hands of Mr. Morris, who will make mistakes sometimes. He is so sorrov that there is one in yours, and that your rightful salary was detained. He begged me io hand you this letter." "The salary is not due," said Sam stifly. "Mr. Morris will tell you that." "Mr Morris has no authority to speak for ns," the young lady said, liaughtily"It is not the custom of our house to make deduction*! in case of sickness." "It is the best policy," said Man", quietly. A house loses nothing by generous dealing. At least, not with re»en like my husband."

Bender stood hesitating. "How did your father know "Oh, it was that little creature, Joe Huston, who told me. Where is the man, in the" world? He came with us—so ridiculous, Mrs. Bender! But the best fellow in the world! The tears were actually in his eyes when he told me how nniastly yonr husband had been treated. Oh, here he is!" "Here I am." Joe came in with a skip and a flourish, we all are, Sam. God bless bov! Just like a scene in a

,»:i=•.••• .'-

play. It's a jolly good world after all, now, isn't it? What a devil of a humor you were in with it to-day, though to be sure? You look as if you were cured now"—in an undertone, where Bender stood apart with his wife. "Are you cured:"she said, softly, touching him. "By an old song," lie said. "Some time I will tell you all Mary. But let me hear your songs and your laugh every day. You do not know from what they have saved me."

He stood looking at them talking together, a smile on his lips, but his eyes dim as a man's seldom arc in this world thinking of the song, and of liow many messengers lie bad in this world, ana how none of them ever failed in its errand.—The Gcda

AMONG THE GHOSTS.

From Paekard's Monthly.] Occasionally I read a manuscript for Carleton, and not long ago he placed in my hands a unique and somewhat extraordinary volume. It was a collection of poems, sketches, narratives and philosophical essays, purporting to be the production of a score or more of eminent men and women who have died within the last quarter of a century. In'other words, it was a volume of "Spiritual Communications" given, as 1 learned from the introductory chapter, through a clairvoyant, who had dictatecrthe various articles to an amafiuensis, while in the trance condition. My prejudice was at once aroused and 1 opened the roll, fully prepared for a plunge into a turbid sea of verbiage and absurdity. The article I first took up purported to be by Artcmus Ward—his adventures "In and Out ofPurgatory"-and the reader will smile when I say that it was not only irresistibly comic, but so thoroughly, "and to the minutest detail, characteristic of the inimitable showman, that it seemed to me impossible for it to hove emanated from any other mind. I then read another article, and another, and another—an epistle from Henry J. Kaymond, a story by Charlotte Bronte, ail off-hand sketch by N. P. Willis, a dissertation by Edward Everett, a philosophical essay by Professor Olmstead, and I found them all equally remarkable— wholly unlike one another, and yet entirely in keeping, both in thought and style, with the acknowledged productions of the reputed authors. Astonished, but incredulous, I tied up the manuscript and returned it to the publisher. "They cannot, of course, be genuine," I said to liini, "but they are certainly the cleverest imitations that have aspired to printer's ink since the 'Rejected Addresses,, and the wonder to tne is how one mind could have produced them. I would publish them." "Xo," he answered, "I'll not do that unless I am satisfied they are genuine— that is, that thev are Mot the production of the medium. But here she conies—I'll introduce you, but omit giving your name if she tells who you are it will be some evidence of supernatural knowledge."

The clairvoyant was accompanied^ by her husband, a well knowfi artist of New York city. She was evidently a person of culture and refinement not a professional "medium," but one who had accidentally discovered heyselt to be in possession of strange powers, and who used her "gifts" not for ga'n but for her own and her husband's instruction and amusement. The book, she said, had been- edited by Margaret Fuller, and the spirits desired its publication, not only to disclose some of the secrets of the "vasty deep," but to convince moatals that the immortals had not forgotten all they ever knew of "Murray's Grammar" and "Blair's Khetoric."

When told that we considered the work very clever, but that the publisher desired to lie satisfied of its genuineness, the lady answered: "I cannot say that the articles have emanated from those whose names they bear I Only know I have not produced them. They have been dictated through me when I have been wholly unconscious. A sconce would, I think, satisfy you of that."

A seance was accordingly decided upon, and we separatedjto meet again that evening at the house of the publisher. A half dozen ladies and gentlemen, all sceptics, fathered there around a large centre-ta-ble, and soon we bad indications of the presence of the invisibles. A few convulsive fwitchings passed over the medium's face, and then her eyes closed, and she was away in apparent unconsciousness. Soon she spoke. It was a simple, childlike voice, and the speaker announced herself as the spirit of a little girl—a Canadian half-breed—who had died a dozen vear? ago, when a mere infant. "1 '111 very little," she said, with a heavy sigh, "and I do n't s'pose I 11 ever be very big. Folks grow in this World, you know—all but me—1 s'pect I '11 never grow much more." "Well, we thank you for coming to see lis, but we desire to meet some other ladies and gentlemen." "Oh, ves! vou want the big people who have wrote "in the book! They 's here, and they '11 come in a minute. You see I has to come first, to sort o' pave the wav, so they can get good control of the medium. AVI10 would you like to see?" "Who are here?" "Well, there 's Miss Bronte, Margaret Fuller and Mr. Kaymond, and ever so many more." "Is Artemns Ward here?" "No, he aint he's ofl lecturing but he '11 come 'fore long. Oh! aint he a funny a "Well, meanwhile we will, ii you please, sec Miss Bronte.' "Yes, she '11 come she wants to talk to vou about the story she has written."

A few convulsive fwitchings passed again over the medium's face, and then her tone, look and manner underwent a sudden change. It was 110 longer the simple voice, and artless expression of girlhood, but the reserved, quiet, and yet dignified look of womanhood, and precisely such womanhood as her writings lead lis to think was embodied in Charlotte Bronte.

Her first remarks referred to her story. She thought it equal to anything she had written wliile on the earth, and she believed the public would consider it characteristic of her. It was difficult, well nigh impossible, fur a spirit to speak or write characteristically through a mortal organism. The brain of the medium would color, more or less, all communications, :LS water poured into a vessel would assume the form of the vessel but this medium was an excellent instrument, sensitive, plastic, and easily moulded to the mind of the communicatingspirit. She would like the publisher to make some slight alterations in the story. These she indicated, and then remarked that the principal character was drawn frotn life— one whom she had known 011 the earth. In answer to the inquiry if she now wrote romances, descriptive of scones and characters in spirit life, she answered that she still wrote romances, but her scenes were all l*id in this sublunary sphere, because a vast number, probably one thirrf, of all the spirits who had come from earth had died in infancy, and consequently needed to be instructed in the rfays of this lower world.

Some further communication of this nature

followed,

when to test Miss Bron­

te's knowledge of her own life and historv a treatleman present .asked the names of "the iooks she had written. The titles were given readily and correctly, and ten she was asked who published her first book in London. She paused, as if reflecting for a moment, and then, in a quiet, self-possessed manner, answered: ''Mv memory of names was always poor, and besides, I have been away from earth many years, and return to it only to fulfil my present duties. A visit always brings back to me painful, very painful recollec tions. But the name was a very common one—let me see—" here she placed her finger to her forehead for an instant, and then continued, "it was Smith—Smith, Elder & Co." "And with whom did yon chiefly correspond in regard to the publication?" "With Mr. Lewes George H. Lewes." (The husband of George Elliot.)

Wlj«t wn* the style of yotrrJiaudwriti"g?" "Very Nijy*11

{PAYABLE IN ADVANCE

legible. I was very near-sighted, and, the daughter of a poor country curate, 1 had to be economical of paper."

The answers were correct, but they might have been given bv any one who had attentively road Mrs. Gaskill's biography. Impressed with this thought, a gentleman present asked if there was any one in the room with whom she had communicated on any previous occasion?

The answer came promptly. "Y"cs I think I have met you -, I think I recognize your magnetism. Allow me your, hand and I will soon tell yon. We spirits, you must be aware, in looking at mortals, 'see through a glass darkly.' It is like gazing down through still water, and we need to come very near for absolute recognition."

The hand was given, and instantly she said— "Yes, I met you twice—had two personal interviews with you—several years ago." "It is true," the gentleman remarked, "and on one of those occast she gave mo, through an illiterate medium, a dis sertation 011 romance writing, analyzing in a most masterly way the novels of Scott, Dickens, Wilkic Collins, Thackeray and herself, and showing how they agreed and disagreed, and wherein lay each one's power."

After some further communications Charlotte Bronte bade us "good night," and there came again the little Canadian girl. "I seen him!" she exclaimed, striking her hands together in apparent glee, "and 0I1! he ix such a funny man. He can't come now, but he '11 be here before the evenin' is over. He says he knows you (to the publisher), and knows vou like a book." "Well, he did," was the answer "but tell me, do you know this gentleman here at my left—the one whose name we have n't given to the medium?" "Know him? Of course I does why that's ." "What makes you think so?" "Why, did n't 1 hear Artemus and Mr. Kaymond talking about him to-day, when he was at the store. They said he'd read the book and vou would be sure to publish it. But do vou know who 's here now?" "Who is?'' "Why, the lady that writes those beautiful poems—she's got one in the book— Miss Menken.' "We would be glad to see her.'

And the medium's face again underwent a few convulsive twitehings, and then rising from her chair she began to pace up and down the room, beating her breast, and gesticulating with her arms 111 a singular manner. This, wc were told, was because the spirit had difficulty in obtaining full control ol the medium. After exercising some ten minutes 111 this ftusliion sjie seated herself in a remote corner, and then began—in a low, plaintive, and yet musical voice, meanwhile swaving her person back and forth, and moving her hands in wild, abrupt gestures—the recitation of a poem—beautiful but breathing an air of deep melancholy. Entranced with its weird, sad beauty, all in the room sat spell-bound, and only the two first lines now linger in our memory. They were these: "'Let my soul rest in pence

AV'hv do you drag 1110 back to earth. lier voice, during its delivery, was half a chant, half a wail, and her face wore a look of inexpressible sadness but it was no sooner over than her whole manner and expression suddenly altered. Turning upon 11s with a brusque voice and characteristic gesture, she exclaimed: "And can you let such a poem as that perish? Where were your senses that you did not put it upon paper, and make it immortal?"

We expressed our regret, but she cut short our apologies with— "Never mind—it's of no consequence. But tell me, what do you want with me? Whv have you called me down again to this dark, wretched world?"

We said that we supposed she was interested in the book the spirits sought to have published. "Well, I am I have written for it at the request of Margaret Fuller. But you should talk to her she is the editor." "Do you know me?" now asked the publisher. "Know vou? I think I ought to know you! You turned the cold shoulder upon me oncc." "I am not aware of it. How was it?" "Why, you refused my book: was'nt that turning the cold shoulder upon nie? But never mind, it came out after my death my friend Dickens stood sponsor at its {baptism." "Yes, 1 know, and I intended to have republished it when it appeared in L011don." "I know you did, but you did 111 do vou know whv?" "No. Why?" "Because I would n't allow it I got it into Lippincott's hands before you could securc ft. 1 wanted to pay vou for that refusal." "If I had published it, it would have had an intrcduc'ion by defend.ngyour character and career" "That (snapping her fingers) for such defences. Why did n't he do it while 1 was living, not wait till 1 was dead.1"' "He did do it while you were living. He was your best friend." "Friend! 1 had 110 friends—nevfr hud any." A hollow, hysterical laugh accompanied this remark. "But he was your friend. II you had listened to him you would have been

He paused, but she finished the sentence: •'A better woman. That 's what you would sav. W ell, I should. Do 11 I remember how he plead with me how, 011 his bended knees, lie besought me to be true to myself and to God?

Here she sprang to her feet and pointed to the floor, as if she saw him pleading there at that moment. "Do n't I remember? oh, God! I wish I did not remember. Ah! but I was a bad woman. But the world made me so. What does it do when once a woman makes a misstep? by, it thrusts her down—down so low that sin- never can recover. But, thank God, it is not so here here the aspiring soul is not fettered bv convention:

its

best impulses arc

not chilled by the scorn'of holy hypocrites. I11 my home up yonder—my great, grand, glorious home—I am free free to do and act mvself: and there I pass for what I am. I tell you that there I pass for what I am!"

Her manner was in striking contrast to that of Charlotte Bronte.

At

times she

was subdued, and her voice was full of a deep, plaintive sadness, and then in a moment, she would burst forth in a storm of theatrical passion, and ptiur out a torrent of bitterness.

Onlv one person was present who had known her while living, and he affirmed that it was Adah Menken and 110 one else. Certain it is that if it was acting it was as good acting as ever was wilnessed.

The interview was a long one, and our space will forbid its being fullv recounted. She had much to say of the grandeur of her home, where, she said, Byron, and Shelley, and Keats, and Coleridge were her constant visitors and companions, occupying the same "sphere" with her.

In this connection she remarked— "Byron and I are kindred souls. He is here "now—seated there in the corner.!' "What does he «ay of Mrs. Stowe's Atlantic article?" "That it is about as much as he could expect of the.present religions world. Kaymond has told you, in his article, what Byron has to say of that atrocious slander." [We here subjoin what Mr. Kaymond says on that much-talked-ofsubject.] "Apropos of the topics of to-(lay, I must here rela'fe what I heard of the Bvron scandal,' which is creating .so marked a sensation at prc-ent. I amttrid by Byron and others that Lady Byron, recently arriving in the spirit-world, and finding.matters vfiry diflferent from what she had expected, and that she was received nowhere as the wife of Lord Byron (who, having resided there-some tnirty years, has formed a new and btppy alliance), was stung witii-jeajausy and vexation, »and ha$tep6(bto~*in£pire Mrs» Stowe to repeat the stoiy -which had^be come a-maafcr thwseby fo aTpQnfjfmieptrm By r«n, igQon.-d-liI'

"If she had waited until she had resided a little longer in spirit life she would not have pursued so foolish a course.

Miss Menken spoke, too, of a spirit who had also been Iter husband on the earth, and whom, we inferred, she was endeavoring to lift to a level with her own life. That she had not been eminently successful in this effort may be deduced from the following poem, which-shc^ias contributed to the Spirit volume:

O E N O gsP Ste Up to the icnith mount.

Clasp not my garment-. M. l.ovo of my soul: m""* Clinging, you drag mo low.

Where tortures roll.

Soil not my angel wing:

S Keep not from rest 91 -C liow can I upward srring. Clapped to thy breast?

Hold mc not. lover—friend—

When she had gone, another, and a totally different influence, attempted to obtain control of the medium, bor fully fifteen minutes the lady paced up and down the room, beating her breast, and gesticulating with her arms, but all to no purpose then She sal down, and, in the childlike voice which we had heard at the beginning, said: "It was Artemus—the funny, man he could n't get control of the medium. He says that gas is so high at present that lie can't afford to inflate her.'

Then came "Margaret Fuller," but 110 one present having known her while living, we could not judge of her indentity. At last, as the seance was about to close, a gentleman asked for Franklin, remarking that the philosopher had professed to come to him through several other medium!, and that if he were indeed "Poor Richard," he would be able to state the gentleman's name and occupation. Soon it was said that Frank-lin had arrived, and the gentleman asked certain questions. They were all answered to his satisfaction, "and he expressed himself convinced of the identity of the "spirit."

The writer hereof will not attempt any explanation of this strange answering of questions, the answers being known only to the questioners. The replies may have come from disembodied spirits, and they mavnot but this would seem to be certain, thev could not have emanated from the unaided mind of the medium, inasmuch as she was a total stranger to everyone in the room.

Some

singularj'disclosures"

Bible lesson well if you did not learn that you could "lay up treasures in heaven." Why, all the time I was living 011 earth I had friends working for me here—admirers who had been drawing*interest from my youthful talent and had laid it up to my account. We go upon the tithe system here, and "render unto Ciesar the things that are Ca-sar's.'" "She told me that works of interest which are published on earth are reproduced,in the spirit world, and the author credited with a tithe of what accrues from them. "Byron, Scott and Moore also did double duty while on earth, and have been recompensed for their industry in the spirit world. "Byron, she privately informed me, had been united to the Mary of early love, and, under lier sweet womanly influence, had lost much of the misanthropy which had nnnoved his friends in this life. "As my stay was short I had onl opportunity to converse with these men of mark on general topics. "Oil the whole we spent a very interesting morning, and, after partaking of rcsreshments, we left, having inquired after

Count D'Orsav, who we learned w:is then 011 a trip to the earth."

A Quakeress, jealous of her husband, watched his movements, and one morning actually discovered the truant kissing and hugging the servant girl. Broadbrim was not long in discovering the face of his wife, as she peeped through the hall'-opcn door, and rising with all the coolness of a general officer, he thus addressed her: "Betsey, thee had bcttea. quit peeping, or thee will cause a disturbance in the family. ,,

A Canadian clergyman, not long since, was called upon by an Iriuli girl, who asked how much he ehargel"ior marying anvbody." He replied, "A dollar and a. half," and Biddy"cleparted. A few evenings later, on being summonetbtoitks door, he was accosted by the same persSh, with the remark that she had come to be married. "Very well," said the minister but perceiving with astonishment that she was alone,-.he continued, theman?"

AnWproiaon c^dirai^irtment'passed rdffftr tMddyty featmieB.as.shfc'qaculated jA-fed DOHJ8P9II FI&FYRHEJUAJ) for a.dr{-

Far into space— Ah! all thy tears I count. Pad, loving facof'

Earth I would ny Passion and torture end In the blest rky.

Life brought but woe tome. Even thy kiss Gave mo but ngony—

Kemorsc with bh.-».

Let go thy earthly hold ain would I fly, •»'.

Voices with lore untold Call from on high.

F.ircwell-the dregs are drank Of life's sad cup 0 It proved but poison rank

Life's lease is up

were made

during the evening, as to the movie of living in the spirit-world, but space will not permit our going into these details,

In the forth-coming book the Counters of Blessington thus' discourses on the Woman Question: "It is remarkable to what a degree woman developcs her intellect in the spirit world. "Freed from the cares of maternity, she seems like some goddess fresh from the hand of Jupiter. All nerve, elasticity and motion, her thoughts are sparkling :ind full of flavor, and light, and life. "This new-born Eve of the celestial kingdom inspires the down-trodden Eve of earth, and kindles to a blaze the whole male population of the spiritual globe."

I11 reference to tiie Countess of Blessington herself, N. P. Willis, is 011c of his "Oil-hand Sketches," gives the following information: "It was proposed," he writes, "that we should meet at the beautiful villa belonging to the Countess'of Blessington. "I can assure you that, on arriving there, it was with a slightly palpitating heart 1 ascended the noble steps of her residence. The Countess met 11s graciously, and, by her vivacity and charming candor, soon dispelled the feeling of diffidence naturally awakened by the thought of being presented to those illustrious persons who had so long hold sway over English literature. "Ere we were aware we were ushered nto the midst of a hilarious group of authors, who welcomed us in a most cordial manner, 1 did not need to have them introduced to me by name, as 1 recognized each one readily from likenesses I had seen on earth. "Lord Byron's countenance is much handsomer and more spiritualized in expression than anv portrait of him extant. 1 noticed that the deformity of his foot, which had been his affliction 011 earth, was 110 longer apparent. "Scott looked as good and as jovial as ever, and Tom Moore the very pink of perfection and elegance. "As for the Countess herself, when 1 saw her 011 earth 1 thought her incomparable. But whether it was through the cosmetic influences of the spirit air, or from other eauscs, she had now bccomc betwitchingly beautiful. "After we had conversed awhile 011 general topics, and I had answered their questions" in regard to the changes which had oecured in certain terrestrial localities with which they were familiar, the Countess invited us out to survey the landscape from her balcony. "The view from this point was extremely romantic. Just beyond the spacious park extended a lovely lake, whose waters were of a rich golden-green color. Upon its limpid bosom several gondolas floated, and gay parties waved their handkerchiefs to us beneath the silken hangings as they passed. "Countess," said 1, after my eve had surveyed the line landscape and noble residence, 'I am but a wandering Bohemian, and vou must excuse my audacity if 1 ask how it is possible that, in this "world of shadows," you have surrounded yourself with so much that is beautiful and substantial? You could not bring your title and your lands with you from earth your jewels and costly raiment you must "have left behind then, whence comes all this weltli and luxury?" "The Countess smiled. 'All!' said she, roguishly, 'you did not study your