Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 14 February 1878 — Page 2

Mazette*

|09

THURSBAY, FEBRUARY 14, 1878.

AN INCORRIGIBLE WIT AND PRACTICAL JOKER. IJelgravia.

In iSr2 his royal highness the Princc Regent did "do something for Theodore Hook," and something handsome, too, appointing him accountant general and treasurer to Mauritius, with a salary of £2,000 per annum. But the responsibilities of office brought with them no gravity to the irrepressible Theodore, who

was as

frolicsome and sans souci in the

Indian island as he had been in the drawing rooms of May Fair. "We are here surrounded by every luxury," he writes to Matthews, ''which art can furnish or dissipation suggest, in a climate the most delightful, in a country the most beautiful, wi society the mosf gay, and pursuits the most fascinating." And ot this gav society he was the king. Neither did the dignity ofhis position repress his appetite for practical jokes. There is a story told of an extraordinary banquet he had prepared for some cockney visi tors to the island. 'Allow me to offer vou seme cat curry," he said to his astonished guests, who were fcurveving the various horrors ot the table with faces sickly pale, "or alilt'.e deviled monkey? I can strongly recommend these fried snake? I'm aware there is a prejudice against them in England, but tltcy are excellent when you get used to them. Hand round those lizards, John they 6eem particularly fine." One of the victims said faintly that he would try a lizard, but when it was transferred to hie plate, it caused a catastrophe almost as disagreeable as that recorded by Smollett in his dinner after the manner of the ancient-. A second course of more edible materials made up for the joke of the first. A yet more impudent trick, however, was that perpetrated at a public dinner at the government house. On the morning of the banquet the governor was taken ill, and, by a curious coincidence, his second in command, who presided in his place, became so unwell during the meal that he was obliged to retire. Hook •was now requested to take the chair, and propose toasts, which he did with a vengeance. There was not a person present down to a sub-lieutenant whose health he did not insist being drunk wilh military honors, commanding salutes to be fired after each. When he had ex haustcd the officers and officials he added the servan.s of h.s excellency'6 household, down to the cook and housemaid, whom lie had in the dining-room to return thanks, salutes being fired as before. The continuous roar of the cannon wa, deafening, and was only discontinued after the last grain of powder had been used. But this gay and pleasant life was leading up to the darkest and saddest episode in Hook's career, one which cast a shadow over many years, and threatened to blight his own existence. An error to a large amount was discovere in his accounts. The clerk, Allan, by whom the deficiency was made known to the authorities, accused his ptincipal of offering him a bribe to make his escape from the island. Soon afterwards Allan committed suicide. Hook was arrested, thrown into prison as a common malefactor, and after a few days sent to England under a military detachment to be tried for an alleged offense. Even under these gloomy circumstances his wit and spirits did not desert him. The vessel putting into St. Helena, he there encountered Lord Charles Somerset, who was on his way to assume the goyernorship of the Cape, and who had heard nothing of Hook's arrest. "T hope you are not going home for your health," he said. "Why,"replied the incorrigible Theodore,' "I am 6orry to say they think there'9 something wrong in the chest." Upon landing in England he was released from custody, the attorney-general declaring that though Mr. Hook might be prosecuted for a civil debt, there wa6 no ground for a criminal procedure.

FACTS AND FANCIES. The date of Mr. and Mrs. Lord's redeption has not been fixed.

Unhappine6s in the married state is not always a sign of genious. Travel is very light these day6, when }here is so much danger of debtors meeting creditors.

Boston will contribute nothing to at expedition to the North pole, because in isn't a been pole.

The old gentleman Lord wore a wig. The wigg»d ftea and no man knows where to pursue.—Rochester Democrat.

Miss Kellog was once the bethrothed of Bierutadt, the painter, but her art held her with too powerful facination to withstand.

When Bcecher is asked for the deveFs present abode, he is too polite to 6ay that a letter might be directed experimetally to Chicago,

They tell of a South Boston woman so stingy that the only thing she is known to give away are shoes to her neighbors' chickens.

Miss Sedgwick says truly the more intelligent a woman becomes the more judiciously will she manage her domestic concerns.

The autograph of David Garrick is worth

$14

that of Mrs. Sibbons brings$20

Rachel's

Handel's

$210,

Kean's

$15.

a.id Edmund

An exchange say6 the general verdict of the preachers seems to be that there is one, but that perpaps it won't be much of a shower.

Four sisters were recently married at the same time in Vermont. The old (•Iks feel relieved, but the trouble begins for the girls.

Phebe Cousins lectures on "Women Without a Country." They didn't want a country, Pii«be, they prefer a citv -N Y. Star.

Mrs. Swisshclm says that of forty men ond-third will be found bald. And ye» the kindly Jane sees in this no leflection on her own sex.

Secratary Sherman is quoted is saying he believes in using silver, but only for honest purposes. He probably would make it into spoons.

The joke about Disraeli marrying the queen outdoes the New York Times' de scription of the filling of the Christmas stockings at Windsor.

Rev. Adirondack Murray looks upon church service as the highest kind of theatricals, and governs his conduct in the pulpit accordingly.

-SIODONS.

How-a Talented Lady Had

He.-

uestiny Revealed to Her

The Effect of a Talisman Upo: Her Interpretation

Lady Macbeth.

A furious Superstition an 1. a Remarkable Coiucideuce.

To thfl E litor of the Chicago Trlbane: SIR: One evening, during the win ter of

1S72,

I was one of a party of four

who had the pleasure of dining with the woman who, just then, was turning the heads of half the young men with her dazling beauty, and enslaving the hearts of the other haif with her commanding genius while those of her own sex—recognizing, I presume, the fact that it would be sheer presumption to compete with the charms that were concentrated in her facc, form, and fame—generously forgave their rival, and likewise bowed in allegiance to "the Queen of the Stage,''

VIrs. Sco.t-Siddons. Although I had several times before in a formal way met Mrs. Scott-Siddons, the opportunity for a quiet socal chat up to this time had never been afforded me Impressed as I had been with the graceful dignity with which she reigned in her more public receptions, I was hardiy prepared for

THE FIRESIDE FRIENDLESS

with which we were 60 charmingly entertained. Indeed, Ruch were the dome tic graces which characterized her hospitalitv, that, in their homelike atmosphere, the frigid formalities of socia etiquette were quickly melted, and our conversation flowed without restraint through the channels of personal experiences and private opinions, the current being entirely unobstructed by tho-e properties of speech which a more public utterance necessitates. I doubt if Mrs. Siddons is often in a more charmi ig mood, and, while it would be an outrageous betiayal of the confidence implied in such a free interchange of opinion and sentiments to publicly repeat what was there privately expressed, still there arc one or two curious incidents of the early career of this remarkable child of fortune which she told us, and which I think may, without impropriety, be repeated here, as another of the many striking illustrations revealed so frequently in the lives of distinguished persons, that genius, however repressed, will ultimately assert itself with unconquerable energy.

It is a part of our nature, I think, to desire to trace anything to its source. Be it the river Nile, the trick of the prestidigitateur, the persuasive power of the orator, or the genius of a great artist the two questions that naturally arise in our mind: Whence does it come? and

HOW IS IT DONE?

are constantly pressing for an answer. So it was quite natural that, in our free and familiar conversation with Mrs. Siddons, we should attempt to wrest from her her secret, and discover "how she did it"! Conversing about her interpretation of one of the characters portrayed in a reading given the previous evening, the question enacting the "Sleep-Walking Scene," tlyit she wa«, «s 6he appeareJ for the

Se being to feel herself to be—Lady acbeth. "Yes," replied she. I must always enter into the character I impersonate if I render it with any power. I never perform that "Sleep-Walking Scene," she added, "without a feeling of dread for, you know, that scene has a peculiar significance to me,"

Your representation last night left a deep impression on my mind. You quite surpass yourself," I said. "That mu«.t have been bscause I wore

MY TALISMAN,"

she laughingly replied. 'And what was that? Are you so superstitious as to believe in talismans and charms?" asked one of the gentlemen, with considerable curiosity. "Did you notice a heavy gold crowrl— a plain band of gold, without a jewel or a bit of chasing—that I wore on my head? I always like to wear that crown when I am to read the "Sleep Walking Scene," for it belonged to my great-grandmother, Sarah Siddons. It was presented her bv the queen, and she prized it highly, always wearing it when she performed the part of Lady Macbeth. It is a fancy, no doubt, that makes me believe I can render the character of Lady Macbeth better when I wear it. But there, are other associations connected with that "Sleep

Walking Scene" that makesme always approach it with a feeling ot fascination which is tinged with a sentiment of awe and dread. For, you know," she continued, with a smile, "it was that scene which shaped my destiny and career

Naturally our curiosity was still further aroused by this remark, and pressing her to tell us the story, after a slight hesitation, 6he consented, somewhat reluctantly, to do so. In view of the fact ot her appearance here this week, when she will probably read the scene, it will be interesting to many to learn how it became the means of revealing to her the secret power she possessed so I will relate it, ?s nearly as possible, in her own lan guage:

THE STORY.

"Having been born in India," she said, unlike most young people, I had no opportunity to attend the theatre during the early years ©f my life so it was not until I went to Germany with my mother that I ever realized the attractions of the mimic wcrld displayed on the stage. It

was

when I was between and

years old that, in the school which I was attending, an entertainment was projected, one of the features of which was the presentation of a little French comedy. I wa6 cast for some minor part, and entered into the plans with great enthusiasm. I studied hard the part assigned me, and thought over all I should do when I appeared befo. the little a"udience. When that moment came, however, it seemed to me that all my preconcerted plans vanished like mist. I felt that I was tor the time the very person I was representing on the stage, and I acted my part weil enough to excite the attention and win the applause of the audience. This flattered me, I presume, tor at once I became carried away with the desire to appear in 6oroe of the greater plays of Schiller, Moliere, Racine, and Corneille. In this was, of course, encouraged by my associates, and the thoughtless people who were glad to seek entertainment in any novelty, even if it was only a little girl attempting to interpret the most sublime creations ot the great French and Gert#.i .. -,s

FASCINATLD BY MY IDEAL,

and, with the almost insane de»ire to appear to my husband as Lady Macbeth. 1 quic.kjv bound up my face with a handkerchief, threw about my body a white wrapper, and, taking mv wax candle, started for the door. In the mirror as I pas.ied I caught the first sight of mv face, pallid with fear $nd drawn into an ex pression of woe unutterable. My eyes, made large by recent sickness, seemed fixed with a strong stare that 60 frightened me that I dropped my candlestick from my hand, and was alone in the dark. I ran out into the hall dow the stairs, and paused at the library door only for a moment. •'Remember," said Mrs. Siddons, I had never before studied 'Macbeth, and knew nothing of the lines. I only felt I was Lady Macbeth. So inspired was I by the conception caught during the reading of the scene that I fsdt myself able to render it in pantomime. "Swinging back tiie door," she continued, "I glided into the roo and stood for a moment so absorbed by my conception that I forgot to act. 1 must have looked like a gra/e-rifen person with my white wrapper my chin tied up with a handkerchief, ani my wide-open eyts staringout of my pallid face. Tom's frien who sat facing the door, sprang to his feet in great consternation, and wheeled his chair in front of him. My husband, seeing his excitement, turned, and catching a glimpse of my face, exclaimed, 'Oh! my God, 6he has gone mad!' "This broke the charm,"said Mrs. Siddon?, "and the nervous strain had been so great that Tom had barely time to save me from falling on the floor as I fell fainting in a chair. Do you wonder now that I always feel a kind of dread when I attempt »o "render the 'Sleep-Walking Scene?"' said Mrs. Siddons, with a lau^h. "But did this incident determine you to appear at once on the stage?" I asked "I began immediately after I recovered my health to study 'Macbeth,"' she an swered, "and soon after determined to apj ear on the stage. And that reminds me of another curious coincidence between the career of my great-grand-mother,

SARAH SIDDONS,

and my own—a coincidence which make. me prize more highly the talisman I have already spoken of." •'Arid what was that coincidence?" asked my friend. "I began, as I have said,'' continued Mrs. Siddons, "to study Lady Macbeth. After I had determined to g- on the stage I could not brook the delay required to complete the preliminary studies which almost all actors must submit to in order that thev may become familiar with what is-known as 'the stage business,' but I went at once down to London and applied to the managers of the different theatres. They did not relish the idea of taking the risk of a lady's walking out of her parlor upon the stage, and without any previous instruction at tempting to perform Lady Macbeth. They wanted me to undertake some lighter aracter. But I was determined to make my debut as Lady Macbety, and so I went to Manchester and Edinburgh. There the managers repeated the story, and finally, with almost no study for the

'*•*." &• ^vrp-r 1 "i, ~*r

THE TERKB HAUTE WEEKLY GAZETTE.

mift dramatist*. ywioiher saw, with iiiarm 'Ir! abnr.nra development my rmrtd. and scfati !i-o Bering that the idea Of bCin\ing a gr.-J,? :ietre-6 had become an atMtrWingassion t'iajt threatened to ara^av in its torrent offeeiing all tbe practical :iimj a .d sober idea's «jf my life, forbade my acting, an 1 diverted it. every wav w'ible mv attention from dramatic subj-Vt-i. As I was then so young •his w.ts not such a I'ifficuit task, and th impressions made were soon effaced. VI mother guided my actions and di cted mv tastes so carefully that even aft our return to England I was n«*ver taken to a theatre, and the draitic autho were kept out of my reach Stran«e as the' stat inent mav seem to you, I, the descendant of one of En°la id's greatest interpreter.* «f. England's tjreafest dramatists.—1 never saw a pl?y of Shakespeare's in a theatre before I is married. After was married I went occaMonallv to the theat e, but b- in^ always excited by the play, and sometimes feei ng the irresistible lo ging to undert ike the part which particularly atraoted mv attention, I wa« prevented from attending often, my health at that time being quite poor But i' wts not until some time af er mv

that

the event occurred I said, -haped my future an.1 Je vr nined my career. -One winter night." she intinued, "a trie id of Tom's tier hu^bvidl —an officer in his regiment—c ime up to o.ir house spend the night with us. D.iring the veiii-ig, the conversation turned upon dramatic subject-, when Ton'-friend bei.i to dispute with him about the

KKVDIXG OF SIM LINiCS IN "MAC-

BE I'LL,"

•vhich he had heard rendered a few nights before, as he claimed, without seise or meaning. To defend' his interpretation of the lines, he went to ihe libr try, and, taking *rn a copv of Shak*peaer, began to read the play. He was a line natural reader, and, in his tarnestnes« to convince Tom, reaJ wi considerable dramatic effect. "I sh ill never forge*, that scene," said Mrs. Siddins with eat animation. "I was sitting at the table sewing. Tom was in a chair before the gra e, his back to me, and his friend sat ficing u*. He read the plav from the b' g:.n:,ing, connecting the parts omitted with sum-' rein irks tending to show the unity of his iuterpre'auon of the char icter of Lady Macbeth When he approached the climax of the 'Sleep-Walking Scene' he ro-e and with gre it animation declaimed the lines. The effect upon me was like a nervous shock. A cold tremor seized upon •. Although 1 had never before fel so strong, my body trembled with agitation. I feared, if I remained longer, th it the feeling of ecstacy would overpower me, and I should have burst into tears. My nervous sensibility had undoubtedly been made more kee.i by a severe sickness from which I had hardly recovered, and, afraid that my agitation would be noticed, I stole to my chamber, where, standing in the middle of the room, mv brain on fire with the long p-nt-.ip desire to represent to others the power I felt stirring mv soul, my mind exalted by the conception I had of the woe which drove Lady Macbeth forth from her bed at midnight, I began to feel I myself was Lndy Macbeth. I was seized, almost agjnizeil, with an inexpressible dread,—a kind of nightmare horror,—and felt that I could only exercise the terrible spirit w&ich% had seized upon me by retiring to (he library and driving it fourth in their presence. I dreaded to stav longer alone, yet was

part, I consented to appear in Edinburgh as Portia in "The Merchant of Venice." About two years ago, while rummaging through some old family papers, I came upon 6ome letter* of my great-grand-mother, and in them I found my experi ence related so exactly a3 to almost star tie me. She too had determined te make her debut as Lad Macbeth, had studied the character, had been refused every where bv the managers, and finally on a few day-' notice had made her debut a the stately and elegant Portia.

It was evident from this, a9 well as well as other remarks dropped during the conversation, that Mrs. Siddons feeU a reverence, amounting almost to a super ition, for her great ancestor. There are many things which might be told illustrating what, in the light of after events, seems almost a Providential pro tcction over and guidance of the career of this remarkable woman, but to relate these incidents might seem like encroaching upon the sacred privacy of a life which, although having been dedicated to the drama, and so belonging, in one sense, to the public, is vet vieled by a modestv so retiring and a manner so charming as to protect her from the prying eyes or staring curiosity of the public.

One word only regarding her METHOD OF STUBY.

nine and nine-tenths men. On the third of March,

missioned officers, or one officer to 11.75 men. This shows that a Democratic administration and congress gave an organization of one officer to

.: -i. .-

which is but another revelation of her genius. Unlike most other great artists, she does not "prepare herself btfore the mirror,does not coldly and calmly calculate the effect of this gesture or that accent upon the audience. Her acting is born of the heart rather than the head. Unlike Miss Cushrnan, who studies her character in the dissecting-room and anatomizes the lines, so to speak, Mrs. Siddons' conception is born of the inspiration of the moment, and comes throbbing with life from her warm and sympathetic heart. She doss not set about coldly and calmly to study a part intellectually, but attempts to realize the poet's or dramatist's creation in her own person, thus giving it life and action. She reads a plav or a poem, until her mind becomes deeply imbued with the sentiments of the author, and then, trusting to iat inspiration which is always born of a 1 jfty ideal, interprets the play or the poem according to the revelation of the moment when she stands face to face with her audience. Undoubtedly this method has its disadvantages, for the revelation may be refused entirely, or her mood may at times be not an exalted one, and then the interpretation will lack fire, vigor, and freshnese but more often out of t'ie hwat of her excitement she A^ill forge a thunderbolt of eloquence that will awe the spectators like some of the outbursts of the old prophets. Her method is the lich, varied, and fljrd song of the Troubadour as contrasted with the polished perfection of a cold and brilliant vocalist.

G. B.

STRENGTH OF THE ARMY.

THE FACTS IN THE CASE—INTERESTING DATA

FOR l85l

AND

1878.

Fro.n the Washington Republican. Just now, when there is so much discussion and asservation relative to the uumbers of the rank and file of the army, the facts present belo v, derived from official sources, will be found of interest:

It was stated in a Washington paper of January

22, 1S7S,

that there are too

many officers in the armv, etc. The facts miy be seen here. On the first of January,

1855,

the aimy contained

two regiments of dragoons one regimeut of mounted riflemen four regiments of of artillery eight regiments of infantry.

Total enlisted men,9,385 total commissioned officers,

984

or one officer to

1855,

the army

was increased by a Democratic administration(Frankl.n Pierce, President,) and a Democratic Conress, by the addition of two regiments of cavalry and two regiments of infantry.

No material change was made after this until January 1,

1861,

when the total

enlisted was 11,907, and the total commissioned, 1,117,

or one

10 05

men.

contained

officer to ten and

On the 1st of Januarv,

1878,

25,400

the army

enlisted men

2,161

10.65

men. Now

the same party charges as top-heavy and, too much officered an organization that gives one officer to 11.75

rnen

It has been said that the staff contains too many officers for the present army. The following shows the nuir.bt of enlisted men to each staff officer January 1, 1861, and January 1,

1878:

"January 1,

1S61—Oneofficer

5,953

of adju

tant-general's department to

850

S81iiliti

Sii

com

men

1 officer of judge-advacate's de partment to 11.907 men officer of inspector-general's departmen to

men 1 officer of quartermaster's

department 10270 men 1 officer of subsistence department to

992

15.

"January 1,

men 1 officer

of medical department to

103

officer to pay department to

men 11

425

men 1

officer of engineer's department to pay 128 men 1 officer of ordnance department to

201

men 1 officer of the line

1878—One

officer ot ad

jutant-general's department to- 1,500 men 1 officer of judge-advocate's department to

5,080

men 1 officer of in

spector-general's department to

5,080

men 1 officer of quartermaster's department to

445

men 1 officer of subsistence

department to

977

men 1 officer of med

ical department to

132

pay department to

men 1 officer of

462

officer of the line to

men 1 officer of

engineer's department to

233

men 1

officer of ordnance department to

470

15.

Since the reorganization of the army in 1S66, the adjutant-general's department has lost three majors by reduction the inspector-general's department, three colonels and one lieutenant-colonel the judge advocate's department, one colonel and five majors by reduction the quartermaster's department, three colonels, two lieutenant-colonels, one major, fourteen captains, and sixteen military storekeepers by reduction the subsistence department has gained oi.e lieutenant-colo-nel bv increase, and has lost fo.ur captain* bv reduction the medical department has gained, by increase, five colonels and five lieutenant-colonels, and has lost ten majors, five captains, twenty lieutenants, and five store-keepers bv reduction the pav department has lost ten major* by reduction there has been no change in the enginerr corps the ordinance depart

ment has

lost ten lieutenants and thir

teen store keepers by reduction.

Mrs, Swisshelm says pantaloons are "unphvsiological." Not if properly patched behind.—Boston Post.

-y/rt*rtn

A Novel of thrilling Interest About the Great Strikes in England.

CHARLES READS.

I' 'ontinncKl From Last Issue.1

»#n. Va A CHAPTER XL. Ddctor Amboyne and Raby "cried 0111, and tried to interfere but Grace's movement was t«o swift, furious and sudden: she was upon the man, with her stiletto in the air, before they ould get to her, and indeed the blow descended, and inspired as it was bv love, and hate, and fury, would dobtless have buried the weapon in a rascal's body but Jael Dence qaught Grace's arm: that weakened, and also diverted the blow yet the slight, keen weapon pierced Coventry's cheek, and even inflicted a slight wound upou the tongue. The very moment Jael Dence dragged her away, and held her round the waist, writhing and striking the air, her hand and bridal sleeve sprinkled with her bridegroom's blood.

As for him, his love, criminal as it was, supplied the place of heroism: he never put up a finger in defense. "No," said he, despairingly, "let me die by her hand it is all I hope for now." He even drew near her to enable her lo carry out her wish: bu\ on that, Jael Dence wrenched her round directly, and Doctor Amboyne disarmed her, and Rabv marched between the bride and bridegoom, and kept them apart: then they all drew their breath, for the first time, and looked aghast at each other.

Not a face in that room had an atom ot c«lor left in it yet it was not until the worst was over that they realized the savage scene.

The bridegroom leaned against the wardrobe, a picture of despair, with blood trickling from his cheek, and channelling his white waistcoat and linen the bride, her white and bridal sleeve spotted with blood, writhed freely in Jael Dence's arms, and her teeth" clicked together, and her eyes shone wildly. At that moment she was on the brink of frenzy.

Raby, a man by nature, and equal 'to great situations, was the first to recorer self^ossions and see his way. "Silence!" said he, sternly. "Amboyne, here's a wounded man attend to him."

Ha had no need to say that twice: the doc'or examined his patient zealously, and found him bleeding from the tongue as well as the cheek he made him fill his mouth with 4 constant supply of cold water, and applied cold water to the nape of his neck.

A he re as a a door, and a voice inquired, rather impatiently, what they were about all this time. It was Mr. Carden's voice.

They let him in, but instantly closed the door. "Now, hush!" said Raby, and l«t me tell him." He then, in a very few hurried words, told him the matter. Coventry hang his head lower and lower.

Mr. Carden was terribly shaken. He could hardly speak for some time. When he did, it was in the way of feeble expostulation. "Oh, my child! mv child! what, would you commit murder?" "Don't you see I would?" she cried, contempusly, "sooner than he should do it. and suffer tor it like a felon. You are all blind, and no friends of mine. I should have rid the earth of a monster, and they would never have hanged me. I hate you all, you worst of all, that drove me to marry this villain. One thing—you won't be always at hand to protect him," "I'll give yoa every opportunity," said Coventry, doggedly. "You shall kill me for loving you so madlv." "She shall do no such thing," said Mr. Carden. "Opportunity? do you know her so little as to think she will ever live with you? Get out of my house, and never presume to set foot in it again. My good friends, have pity on a miserable Either, and helprme to hide this monstrous thing from the world."

This appeal was not lost: the gentlemen put their heads together, and Coventry into another room. There Doctor Ambone attended to him, while Mr. Carden went down and told the guests th^ bridegroom had been taken ill, so seri ously indeed that anxiety and alarm had taken the place of joy.

The guests took the hint and dispersed, wondering and curious. Meantime, on one side of a plaster wall Amboyne was attending the bridegroom, and stanching the effusion of blood on the other, Raby and Jael Dence were bringing the bride to reason.

She listened to nothing they could 6ay until they promised her most solemnly that she should never be compelled to pass a night under the same roof as Frederick Coventry. That pacified her not a little.

Doctor Amboyne had also grtat trouble with his patient: the wound in the cheek was not serious but, by a sort of physical retribution—of which, by-the-by I have encountered many curious exam-, pies—the tongue, that guilty part of Frederick Coventry, though slightly that Amboyne was obliged to fill his mouth with ice, and at last support him with stimulants. He peremptorily refused to let him be moved from Woodbine Villa.

When this was communicated to Grace she instantly exacted Raby's promise and, as he was a man who never went from his word, he drove her and Jael to Raby Hall that very night, and they left Coventry in the villa, attended by a surgeon, under whose care Amboyue had left him with strict injunctions. Mr. Carden was secretly mortified at his daughter's retreat, but raised no objection.

Next morning, however, he told Coventry and then Coventry insisted on leaving the house. "I am unfortunate enough," said he: "do not let me separate mv bsst friend from his daughter." "Mr. Carden »ent a carriage off to Raby •4all. with a note, tel in« Grace Mr. Coventry wasjjoneof his own accord, and Hp ei.-e iruely pen t.-n', much shocked a hiving inadvcrt-intiy driven hei out of the house. He promised also to protect her, should Coventry break his word and attempt to assume maiital rights without her concurrence.

This letter found Grace in the most uncomfortable position. Mrs. Little had returned late to Rabv Hall but in the morning she heard from Jael Dence that Grace was in the house, and why.

The mother's feathers were up, and she could neither pity nor excuse. She would not give the unhappy girl a word of comtort. She sternly refused to see her. "No," said she: "Mrs. Coventry is unhappy so this is no time to snow her how thoroughly Henry Little's mother despises her."

These bitter words never reached poor

wmm

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.!o™*. h„, ,he b,re notcomintf

Mr. Coventry remained quiet for some days, by *hich means he pacified Grace'® terrors.

On the fo irth day Mr. B-resford called at Woodbine Villa, and Grace received him, he being the curate of the parish.

He spoke to her in a sympathetic tone, which let her know at once he was partly in the secret. He said he had just visited a very guilty, but penitent man that we all need forgiveness, and that a woman, once married, has no chance of happiness but with her husband.

Grace maintained a dead silence, only her eye bepan to glitter. Mr. Beresford, who had learned to watch the countpnances of ail those he spoke to, changed his tone immediately, from a piritual to secular adviser. "If I were you," said he, in rather a* off-hand way. "I would either forgive this man the sin into which his love has betrayed him, or I would try and get a divorce. This would cost money: but if you don't mind expense, I think I could BJggest a way—*

Grace interrupted him. "From whom did you learn my miserv, and his villainy? I let you in, because I thought you came from God but you come from a villain. Go back, sir, and say that an angel, sent bv him, becomes a devil in my eyes." And she rang the bell with a look that spoke volumes.

Mr. 3eresford bowed, smiled bitterly, and went back to Coventry, with whom he had a curious interview, that ended in Coventry lending him two hundred pounds on his personal security. Todis pose of r. Beresford for the present, I will add that, soon after this, his zeal for the poor subjected him to an affront. He was a man of soup-kitchens and subscriptions. One of tiie old fogies, who dislited him, wrote several letters to the Liberal, and demanded an account of his receipts and expenditure in these worthy objects, and repeated the demand with a pertinacity that implied, suspicion* Then Mr. Beresford called upon Doctor Fynes, and showed him the letters, and confessed to him that he never kept any accounts, either ot public or private expenditure. "I can construe Apollonius Rhodius—with vour assistance, sir," said he, but I never could add up p'junds, shillings and pence far less divide them except amongst the afflicted." "Take no notice of the cads," said Doctor Fynes, But Beresford represented meekly tnat a clergyman's value and usefulness were gone when once a slur was thrown upon him. Then Dr. Fynes gave him high testimonials, and they parted with mutual regret.

It took Grace a day to get over her interview with Mr. Beresford and when with Jael's help she was calm again, she received a letter from Coventry, indited in tones of the deepest penitence, but reminding her that he had offered her his life, had made no resistance when she offered to take it, and never would.

There was nothing in the letter that irritated her, but she saw in it an attempt to open a correspondence. She wrote back: "If you really repent your crime*, and have any true pity for the poor creatuer whose happiness you have wrecked, show it by leaving this place, and ceasing all communication with her."

This galled Coventry, and he wrote back: What! leave the coast clear to Mr. Little? No, Mrs. Coventry no."

Grace made no reply, but a great terror seized her, and from that hour preyed constantly on her mind—the fear that Coventry and Little would meet, and the man she loved would do some rash act, and perhaps perish on the scaffold for it.

Jael found her shaking all over, witli this telegram in hand. "Thank God you are with me!" stile gasped. "Let me see him once more, and die."

This was her first thought but all that day she was never in the same mind for long together. She would burst out into joy that he was really alive, and she should see his face once more. Then she would cower*with terror, and say she dared not look him in the face, she was not worthy. The she would ask wildly, who was to tell him? What would become of him? "It would break His heart, or destroy

his reason. "After all he had done and suffered for her!"

and that flating And agonized heart: the feelings uctu the agitation of a life were crowded into those few hotirs, during which she awaited the lover she had lost.

-V

down htairs by on«

A nor sending a civil message spok« rolumet,and Grace was sighing over it when her father's letter cams. She went home directlf, and so heart-broken, that

o'clock,

Jael Dence pitied her deeply, and went with her, intending to stav a cfey or two onlv.

But every dav something or other occurred. which combined with Grace's pravers fo keep her at Wootbine Villa.

This was the dominant sentimet of her

:i*

distracted heart, when cne day, at eleven A. M., came a telegram from Liverpool: 4 "Just landed. Will be with you by four. "HH^JRY

LITTLE."

A '4.

.fe

i-f

Oh! why could she not die before he came? Seeing her dead body, he would forgive her. She should tell him she loved him still, should love him always. 7She would withhold no comfort. Per- C. haps he would kill her. If so. Jael must manage eo that he should not be taken up or tormented any more, for such a wretch as she was.

But I might as well try to dissect a storm, and write the gusts of a tempest, a to describe all the waves of passion

At last, Jael Dence, though she was also much agitated and perplexed*de- ."- cided on a course of action. Just before four o'clock she took Grace up stairs and told her she might see him arrive, but she must not come down until she was sent for. "I shall see him first, and tell him all and, when he is fit to see yon, I will let you know."

Grace submitted, and even consented to lie down for half an hour. She was 'v now, in truth, scarcely able to stand, sj being worn out with stri^gle. She lay passive, with Jael Dence's hand in hers.

When she had lain so about an hour, she started up suddenly, and the next moment a fly stopped at the door. Henry Little got out at the gate, and walked JT up-the gravel walk to the house.

Grace looked at him from behind the curtain, gazed at him until he dis?ppear'•d, and then turned round, with eeraphic joy on her countenance. "My darling!" fche murmured "more beautiful than ever! Oh misery! misery!"

One moment her heart was warm wilh rapture, ana the next it was cold with despair. But the joy was blind love the despair was teason.

She waited, and waited, but no sum

[Continued on Seventh Page.]

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