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CX.AKIOCR A'1 JIUXSCIIE ALONF.
The night following the events re
corded In the previous chapter, Mr. and
Mrs. Hewitt sat together In the pleasant
little sitting room. The Colonel, with
his feet encased iu a pair of slippers of
his pet's make, sat in his large morocco
covered chair, enjoying a lengthy detail
of the coming election.
Harry, -with his chair tipped back,
seemed to be ngagt wit.h his own
thoughts, as lie picked to pieces the re
mains of a qullljoothplck.
Mrs. Hewitt was busily engaged look
ing over a box of kids which she had
purchased before leaving the city.
"It seems to me, Alice," said the Col
onel, laying down his paper, "that Mr.
rierpontleft us rather abruptly. "Why
did he not wait until to-morrow, after
"I am sure I cannot say why he did
not remain, but I presume he left be
cause I did not choose to consider him
the affianced lover of Sonora," answered
Mrs. Hewitt, jerking on a pair of flesh
colored gloves, and not even raising her
"The affiianced lover! Did he then
propose for her hand?" asked the Colo
hel, very much surprised.
"He did, and I told him that Sonora
was too young to think of such things
for two years to come yet; and besides,
I did not wish her to be engaged to any
one for so long a time. I wished her to
remain perfectly free to choose for herself-"
"You mean for you to choose for her,"
Interrupted the Colonel. "Why did he
not speak to ine upen the subject? I
think it would have been as well to
have conferred witli both."
"Well, that was another of his oddi
ties, I suppose. Then, because I did not
see fit to say yes, he flew into a passion,
packed up and left, without even saying
good-bye, though he left a little note to
that effect, and thanking us for our
kindness to him during his sickness."
"Well, this is very' strange conduct
I never thought he would act in that
manner," said the Colonel, taking up
his paper. "But what does Sonorasay?"
"Oh, she is suffering a severe head
ache from last night's entertainment,
and does not think much about it She
seemed rather surprised when I told her
he had gone, but told me, If I did not
wish to give her pain, never to refer to
the name of Clarence Pierpont, and I
am sure I have no desire to do so. She
is so strange I can never tell anything
about her. I thought she did think J
something of him, but it would puzzle a
Philadelphia lawyer to find out, I
guess," and rising, she appeared to be
deeply engaged all at once in looking
over some sheet music, which lay upon
a table on the opposite side of the room.
"Well, well, I hope my little pet docs
not care anything for him, though I
was inclined to think she did," observed
the Colonel, thoughtfully. "Did she
ever say anything to you, Harry?"
"Xcver, father. You know it is rather
a delicate subject Clarence told me all
about it," and he gave his mother a
look which brought the blood to her
cheeks. "He said he thought it best to
leave without bidding Sonora or any
of the family good-bye, though he com
missioned me to do so for him. I prom
ised him I would follow the day after
tiiepiculc Poor Clarence! He is a no
ble fellow ! I wish I was half as good,"
murmured Harry, as he relapsed into
nts iormer silence.
"Queer," uttered the Colonel, as he
went on reading. Then, stopping again.
he turned to his wife: "Alice, do not in
fluence Sonora. Let her choose for her
"I certainly shall not; but you will
allow tlint it is right for a mother to ad
vise her daughter for the best?"
"O, certainly, but Sonora is so gentle
and submissive that you have only to
express your desires, and she is ready to
yield implicit obedience, even should it
be at the risk of her own happiness,'
said the Colonel, as his wife left the
Harry still remained perfectly quiet,
though his thoughts were busily at
work within him. At first he thought
he would acquaint his father with all as
Clarence had told him, and perhaps he
would be the means of making his sis
ter happy; then, again, not wishing to
create a scene, and make his mother ap
pear lew than before in the eyes of his
friend, he concluded to let itremain a
secret between him and Clarence, and
trust to time and circumstances to make
all things turn out right, and perhaps
be better in the end, for, should Clarence
fail to be all that he seemed, he could
exonerate himself from all blame, and
at least not be the means of casiDg
that sister, who was so dear to him, a
life of unhappmess perhaps.
Ah, Harry, better had you et y0ur
first thoughts exerted their sway How
many hours of anguish would you have
saved a sister's heart!
Leaving the Colonel to euiov i.t.
per, and Harry to meditate over i.t.
friend's heart affairs, -we will transport
uui icaucra iu .umncue'S lionie that
Clarence, upon leaving Colonel Hew-
ill's, ordered the driver to stop at Cap
tain Marsh's, whereupon grandma
would not hear to his going-, but Insist
ed upon his remaining till the nextday,
when they would escort him to the cars in
their own carriage at an early hour. At
first he declined doing so, offering sev
eral excuses- but at last, overcome by
their kindness, he accepted their invi
tation, and was soon a guest at the
Old Mrs. Marsh was delighted at the
idea of entertaining the child of her ear
liest friend, and Captain Marsh shared
her joy in doing his utmost for his
young friend's pleasure and comfort
But how was it with Blanche? Ah
her heart leaped with joy at the simple
"Sorely fortune favors me," thought
she. "I have the game in my own
Never had she appeared to better ad
vantage in the eyes of Clarence than she
did on this day.
The family remained together during
tiie afternoon 'with the exception of
Gracic, who had been confined to her
bed with a violent headache. The old
people, retiring early, left Blanche to
entertain Clarence, which opportunity
she was glad to embrace. During the
evening he gave her to understand how
matters stood between him and Sonora,
and taking the letter out of his pocket,
which in his haste lie had forgotten to
leave with Harry, gave it to Blanche to
hand to her. Blanche appeared to deep
ly sympathize with him, but added In a
joking way "that Sonora would soon
get over her distress in the presence or
the fascinating Xornian Mcintosh,
whom she told her she greatly ad
mired," and then remarked:
"I do not sec how she can like that
vain, self-conceited man. But Sonora
Hewittisastrangegirl. Icaniiot fathom
"And do you really suppose Sonora
thinks anything of Mr. Mcintosh?"
asked Clarence, suspicion begmning to
be aroused within his breast.
"Suppose s," said Blanche. "Why,
did you not see for yourself last evening
how very attentive he was, and how de
lighted she appeared while listening to
him? I overheard several remarks
with reference to them. Mrs. Hewitt
told me," continued the designing girl,
"that the Colonel was delighted with
the course things had taken."
"Say no more, Miss Levcre, if you
would spare me pain. Can it be possi
ble that she, who appeared so innocent,
pure and lovely, could prove so treach
erous? Is she, too, allured by cursed
gold?" exclaimed Clarence, passion
ately. "Forgive me, Mr. Pierpont, If I have
said aught to cause you pain. It was
unintentional, I assure you. I thought
you was fully aware of It before."
"Had I been," interrupted Clarence,
"I should not have gone thus far and
laid myself liable to ridicule from those
who could act thus base," and rising, he
politely requested a light, as he wished
to retire. Then, taking the hand of
Blanche, he said: "Miss Levere, or
Blanche I will call you, as it sounds
more familiar, and our parents, you
know, were friends, therefore let us be;
Blanche, I shall ever thank you for the
kindness you have done me this night
by telling me of that which I ought to
know. Be kind enough to return that
letter to me, as I do not wish to flatter a
"Be careful, Clarence, that you do not
that which you may rue. Sonora Is a
lovely girl, notwithstanding sho Is a
professed destroyer of hearts," smiling
one of her sweetest and most bewitching
"Say no more, Blanche. Never men
tlou her name to me. I would rather
suffer wrong than to be guilty of doing
a wrong or know that one heart bore a
scar which I had inflicted," and taking
her hand, kissed it, a? he uttered a gen
tie good night, closing the door after
him as he went out.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Blanche, as
she heard his retreating footsteps upon
the stair-case. " 'Rather suffer wrong
than do wrong,' hey? Well, I wouldn't
not when there is such a prize. I'm
sure it is worth winning." and throw
ing herself Into the rocking chair, con
tinued, "How fortunate that he should
stop here this anernoon. 'Blanche, let
us be friends.' That is one stepping
stone towards my plans. What will
Sonora say when she finds herself jilted
for her most confidential friend, Blanche
Levere? Yes, I feel sorry it Is true, and
perhaps I am doing her a great wrong
but then, on the other hand, it will be
doing her mother a kindness, for she is
opposed to her daughter marryiuga poor
man; and she will no doubt thank me
for ridding her of him. Vain, weak,
proud woman! She knows not yet, all
the years that she has lived, that money
is but dross compared to the pure Jove
of a devoted heart She never loved, it
is plain to be seen. Tlio Colonel won
her by Ids title and gold. Gold! yes,
gold! Well, I have enough for both,
and have him I will, or die in the at
tempt! Blanche Levere loves but once,
and once only! I have him iu the right
path. 'Tis easy enough to arrange mat
ters with Sonora, and sho is so pure
minded that she will never suspect me
of having a hand in it Let me see,"
mused she; "next Thursday Is the pic
nic Norman will be there. I can ar
range all then. I must not let Grade
know anything of this at present. I
can patisfy grandpa and grandma by
telling them Clarence and Sonora have
had a falling out, and Grade too; and
tell them never to mention either name
to one or the other, as it calls up un
pleasant memories. They will never
suspect their darling Blanche, never!
Yes, I have it all arranged for Thurs
day," and jumping up, she exclaimed,
with a sarcastic laugh, "I guess I take
after my grandmother!"
Hinging for a light she retired to her
own room to sleep, and perhaps dream
of new plans for the ruination of her
(To be continued.)
t )!' .
BY SARA A. CSDEItWOOD.
"Married, are you? Well, I suppose I
outrht to congratulate, but feel more
like condoliug with you. However,
every one to ins own taste, .nay you
never live to repent of your bargain!"
and handsome Burt Llyd gave Allen
Newcome's hand a hearty shake,
while a half sarcastic smile hovered
around his lips.
"And may you live to repent you of
your confirmed celibacy. Ith your
incomo and prospects it's a shame, old
boy, that you were not married years
ago," was Allen's laughing rejoinder.
"I'm waiting," said Burt
"A perfect woman. Find ine one, and
I promise you I'll marry her at once."
"A perfect fiddle-stick! Suppose the
thing possible, however, how do you
know that she'd accept your lordship?"
Burt glanced at the mirror opposite
with a smile of great complacency.
"With my inconic'-and expectations,
as you just now suggested, I'll run the
risk of that. I'll leave entire disinter
estedness out of the list of her perfec
"You are incorrigible, Burt. But I
Allen Newcome took his leave with
the mental comment that his friend's
self conceit needed a decided rebuff, an
opinion which would have received
confirmation had ho seen the supercil
ious smile that curled Burt's lips a few
moments later, as he read a dainty note
Just brought in to him. He threw it
aside scornfully, as he muttered, "An
Invitation and a snare. No, I'll not ac
cept. Miss Belie Oh, these women,
how they bore me with their attentions!
Will I ever, I wonder, meet with my
ideal my perfect, womanly woman:"
More than a year later Burt Lloyd,
still a confirmed bachelor, received
rather gladly, It being sultry August
weather, an Invitition from his friend
Allen to visit him at his summer resi
dence, a qnict country place by the sea
side. He fancied, too, there would be
no other company. But in this he was
mistaken. Quite a gay little party was
already there, among whom he created
quite a sensation by his polished though
slightly sarcastic manner, his aristo
cratic bearing and reputed wealth. His
friend Allen, however, did not allow
him to be bored with their company a
great deal. Hunting and fishing kept
them out of doors much or tne timo lor
two weeks, at the end of whicli time lie
was rather agreeably surprised to find
that the crowd of butterfly visitors had
flitted to other fields of pleasure, leav
ing as guests only himself and a Miss
Hartc, a cousin of Mrs. Newcome's,
whom he had heretofore only observed
enough to remark how rarely beautiful
and child-like she was. And, like most
men's, Burt Lloyd's perfect woman Mas
to be in a great measure a mature child
a child's purity and innocence, com
bined with a woman's discretion and
i. few days of drizzling rain put an
end to his out-of-door pursuits, and that
was how he came to notice Miss Harto
more particularly, aud to find her a
pleasing, piquant study. The odd ex
periencc of being baffled in that study
made it doubly interesting to him.
Her face was the face of a trustful,
innocent child one of rare blonde beau
ty, showing in its swift changes of color
every varying emotion; soft, brown,
velvety eyes, whoso long, dark lashes
were such a contrast to the heavy coils
of golden, satin-smooth hair which
adorned her small, shapely head. Her
mouth troubled him most to read. It
was most too large for beauty, and the
lips, though full and red, bespoke firm
ncss and decision; but her voice was
sweet, low and harmonious, and her
laugh was the happy laugh of a care
free girl. She sung, too, not with
power, b"ut with rare pathos and feeling,
as she played. Dressed alwavs becom
ingly, nay charmingly, yet never ap
peared to give a thought to any of the
details of dress; never betraying until
she was asked thatshe held any opinion
upon any subject under discussion, and
then surprising all by the amount or in
formation she could give; never seem
Ing bttsy or hurried, yet accomplishing
a great deal in n very little while. To
these peculiarities add the fact strange
inconsistency of man! that suo treated
Burt Lloyd with an unstudied but clear
ly apparent indifference, and you will
not be surprised to learn that ere
month's timo he had begun to question
whether his ideal dream of a perfect
womanhood was not possible of realiza
OREGON, FKIDAY, JTnVE J31,
tion, and whether Amy Harte was not
the embodiment of that possibility.
As for her, the surprise she may have
felt in the evident, persistent and per
haps slightly patronizing admiration of
herself by Burt Lloyd was never shown
by word or look. Sho neither sought
nor avoided him. If he found her
at leisure in the parlor and asked for
some music, she sat down to the piano
with the ready obedience of an obliging
child, and at the close of each song
looked up at him with frank eyes, as if
expecting the appreciative smile he was
always ready to bestow. If, on the other
hand, he had haunted in vain all day
the house and garden in search of her,
and on her appearance in the evening
told her so, sho madi no apologies and
looked no surprise at his -infatuation
Nor if, after one of those long silences
so frequent with her, ho sometimes
raised his eyes from book or paper to
meet hers, so unfathomable in their
dark depths, fixed upon his face as in
study of him, did sho change color or
exhibit any trace of discomposure.
Her calmness piqued, tormented, em
barrassed him, aud yet he found himself
day by day more and more in love with
her. Still I doubt if lie would have
dared his fate so soon as lie did but for
an accident which occurred just a; he
was about to bring his visit to a close.
He accompanied her one morning on a
horseback ride. They were returuintr
ind near home when his horse took
sudden fright at something, reared,
plunged and threw him. When next
he awoke to consciousness Amy Harte
was kneeling by his side, bathing his
face aud hands in cool water, her face
very pale, but tlio mouth firm and
"Are you much hurt, do you think?"
He tried for answer to rise, but found
himself helpless, his arm broken aud
his foot sprained. He groaned with
"Don't stir," slicsaid quickly, "I will
nianago for you."
Fortunately, she had thrown a
shawl over her side saddle that morn
ing. Her horse stood quietly by, his
was a mile or two away. She folded
the shawl into a pillow for his head, and
then ran down the road a few steps to
where she remembered a turn iu tiie
road hid some laborers from view.
These she called, and then returned to
his side and washed oil with her hand
kerchief in a roadside brook the blood
nnd dust from his face. In a few mo
ments the men were there. She showed
them how to make a litter, and then in
structed them howtolifthim on It with
least pain to him, after which she
mounted her horse and rode away for a
surgeon, fullering as lie did, Burt yet
found time to note the celerity, the deft
ness, the clear-headed way lu which all
this was done, nnd she seemed In his
eyes more perfect llian ever. During
the week of illness that followed he saw
very' little of her, but dainty messes of
her manufacture, and vases of flowers
whose coloring, arrangement and per
fume refreshed his fastidious taste, kept
her in daily remembrance.
He was down in the parlor again in a
few weeks, but he had set the timo for
his return to the city ere lie found time
and place to declare his passion and
plead his suit. It was one afternoon
when they had the house to themselves
that lie did so. Mr. and Mrs. New
come had gone to make some calls, and
there was no fear of interruption. He
was half surprised at the ardor and Im
petus with which he made the declara
tion. Once she held up her hands warn
ingly and begged him to stop, but he
paid no heed until the confession of his
hopes fears he had none was made.
Then, as ho looked into her face, he
grew suddenly fearful. For the first
time in his life his self conceit failed
him. Could it be possible! He had
dreamed that his "perfect" woman was
to lift up to him, after such a confession
as tills, a face full of blushing, bllbsful
happiness, was to nestle close into his
open anus nnu murmur a rapturous
"yes." But this woman was looking
at him with quiet, studying eyes, and
her smile puzzled him as sho said:
"Believe me, Mr. Lloyd, this is alto
gether unexpected. I am sorry if any
tiling I have done lias led you Into this
indiscretion. Perhaps I might have
been a little more reserved in my man
ner toward you but for Allen's repeated
declarations of your confirmed celibacy
his declaration that until you found
that impossibility, a 'perfect' woman
you would never marry."
"But Amy let me call you so I have
found my perfect woman. Even the
little I have seen of you convinces me
that you are all, nay more than
dreamed of in my ideal"
"And admitting that," she inter
rupted, with a smile so mischicvious
that lie began to think she was relent
ing, "what then have you to offer mc
iu return for the perfections with whicli
your fancy lias invested me? How
about my ideal, which you must admit
I have as good a right to hope for as
yourself? I have seen very little of you
since I have been here. From Allen I
learn that you are of good family, occu
py a respectable position in society, that
you are wealthy, and never disgraced
by any public act yourself or your
friends. Observation has shown me
that you are ordinarily gentlemanly in
your deportment, and I can see for my
self that yon are a finely formed, hand
some man. But these are negative vir
tues. What positive qualities or vir
tues have you to offer me? The man
who has for years refused himself the
pleasures of a happy home because,
among all the good and true women by
whom he was surrounded, ho failed to
find an ideal woman, combining in one
person all the virtues, with beauty and
wealth superidueti, ougnt surely him
self to be able to offer her this pure,
high-souled woman oi ins dreams! in
himself all the high, manly virtues, a
noble, unfaltering courage, a life toned
and tempered by the hard lessons of a
conquered adversity, a chivalrous re
spect for all womanhood, ajife. kept
pure through manifold temptations, .a
daring adherence to the good and true
whatever might ensue. Have you
these to- offer me, Mr. Lloyd mc, the
'perfect' woman of your dreams?"
She had risen in her earnestness, and
stood before htm now like a vision of
beauty, the dark eyes flashing 'neath
their long, dusky lashes, the wealth of
golden hair arranged that day in girl
ish fashion falling around her like a
halo, the fair, rounded cheeks flushing
and paling by turns. Never before had
she looked so lovely as at this moment,
when the tremulous, passionate tones
seemed uttering words of doom, as she
showed him the gulf which separated
them. For once iu his life he lost his
self possession, and half stammered:
'I beg your pardon. I sec my mis
take, and thank you for your words,
harsh as they seem. But I have al
ways heard, have always thought, that
a woman docs not think of these things
that she marries fur a home aud protec
tion. Because there was nothing
against my character aud standing, I
fancied there was a great deal in my
my favor. But I believe I do love you
heartily and truly! Is it best to throw
away a love like mine?" and he turned
pleadingly toward her.
The color faded out of tier checks, a
weary, dispirited look stolo itito hcreyes,
and she sank into tlio luxurious depths
of an nrni-chair. With this change of
mood, she grew to look suddenly older
"Let ine undeceive you, Mr. Lloyd.
I am by no means the 'perfect' woman
you fancy me. Good as you iiiniK me,
I hate myself for the uselessness of my
life and for the evil I have been com
pelled to do. If my past experience can
help you, and through you the woman
you will some day make your wife, I
shall be more than grateful. ' When I
say I am not a 'jierfeet' woman I don't
mean to say that I am worse than most
other men and women only that there
are no perfect women any more than
there are perfect men. We can, how
ever, make ourselves better or worse
than we are by nature. You and T,
Mr. Lloyd," witli a light laugh, "have
perhaps made ourselves worse. Those
perfections' in me which have won
your regard are the result of deliberate
study on my part, taught mo through
my knowledge of human nature. How
old do you think me, Mr. Lloyd?"
He looked at her in a puzzled way,
with his sensations in a strange whirl, as
'I have thought you about eighteen
or twenty. I don't know this moment
what to think you seem so different"
"That was not n very sensible conclu
sion on your part, Mr. Lloyd. "What
kind of life must any girl of eighteen or
twenty have led, do you think, to be
able to guard her words, her thoughts,
her feelings, as I guard mine? No,
thank Heaven! at eighteen I was a dif
ferent woman! All, how often have I
wished that the good Lord had taken
me to Himself in those days! I did so be
lieve in everybody in those days, myself
included! But that dream was put a
sudden end to. Shalt I tell you, to cure
you completely of any lingering illusions
you may have held regarding me, in
what dreadful school I learned to cem
'perfect' woman? It was under the
til MS age of blows, insults and brutal
outrage from the man who swore at the
altar to 'protect, cherish and bless,'
for, Mr. Lloyd, lam that dreadful thing,
a divorced wife!"
There was now a mournful depth of
woe in ttic starry eyes, around the sweet
mouth sudden lines of care seemed
drawn, and for a moment grey shad
ows appeared to enwrap the graceful
form, but they passed in a moment as
she went on:
"Don't think me quite a hypocrite.
I forget all I can of that dreadful time.
The shadows of the life that I led must
ever remain with me, but I hide myself
from every remembrance of it that 1
can. .Even my niisnanii's name is giau
ly ignored by mo and my friends. My
cousin gives me the shelter of her home
and her own maiden name, which was
"I sincerely beg your pardon," said
Lloyd, o'er whose brow a cold dew had
started as he thought of his narrow es
cape from marrying a divorced woman ;
"and since it must distress you, don't
tell me anything more."
"But I will, because I think it may
perhaps cure you of some false ideas,"
suo continued. "I married this man
with the truest, purest love for him
thought him so perfect, so manly, so
true! He married me for my beauty
aud innocence, and I, poor fool, because
I had no other dower to offer in ex
change for his wealth and position
thought him The "best and truest man In
the world 'thy king,' I used to call
hint. I ie soon wearied of me, his latest
toy, and mean as. lie was by nature lie
soon showed himself In his true colors.
At first, when I knew onfy one or two
low traits in the character I had deemed
without flaw, I tried hopefully to re
form him, and showed him plainly my
horror of his words and actions. That
incensed him, and I had to suffer in
consequence. I was eighteen, Mr.
Lloyd, when I married him, and I lived
as his wife ten years ten horrible
years! Before I freed myself I no longer
dared to show my detestation of him
I grew cowardly. I lied to him I was
obliged to, to save myself. I grew to
watch Ins every movement, and
dered to his wishes- with not one dis
senting word, the while I hated him
and loathed myself for my nearness to
him. I smiled in his face while my
heart was breaking. I watched and
waited aud schemed to get such evi
dences of his abuse and wrong doing as
should free me before the law. He grew
to trust mc and to think me entirely
callous to anything he might do, and
so betrayed himself into my hands."
She drew a long breath and clasped the
dainty hands tightly. "Two years ago
the law gave mc my freedom. I ought
to have been free eight years before
that I would not marrv anv man. Mr.
Lloyd, for I distrust all men. I only
look forward to a life so useful that it
may wash the stains of those dreadful
years away from me. Strangest of all
my sad experiences, however, is the
fact that now I am irrevocably lost to
him. This man, who hardly gave mc a
decent word for years ; who struck mc
hundreds of times always, the coward!
when there was none to see; who forced
mc to witness his mad orgies witli his
bmtal companions, and made me live
in the house witli his paramours this
man is now madly in love with me
again. He haunts me witli his profes
sions of love and mad desire to win me
back, and appeals to me by all those
feelings whicli lie murdered years ago,
and which he dares to think mc capa
ble of holding toward him even now.
This is why I am here in hiding, and
this, Mr. Lloyd, is the life that lias
made me seem to you a 'perfect' wom
an. otild you like your wife to have
such memories -as mine to haunt you
and her! I think not! Make vourself
worthy, Mr. Lloyd, of the love of some
pure girl there are plenty of them
around you before ever you offer your- i
self to her. Don't ask of her more than
you are willing or capable of giving in
return. Prove to her, however, as far
as possible, ail that she has dreamed
you to be, and thus save her from the
bitter experience of my life. Promise
mo this, and you will help mc to be
She rose as if to close the Interview,
offering him her hand, witli a wistful
look in her eyes. He gave his with a
new feeling of respoct for her and for all
'I do promise," he said earnestly;
'and in spite of, or rather in virtue of,
what you have confided to me, I still
believe you to be a perfect woman. I
recognize how impossible it is for you
to be anything more to me than what
you now are, but if you will permit me
shall eupr be your faithful friend.
You have told me some uncomfortable
but wholesome truths, which, I trust,
wilt ultimately benefit me. I thank
you sincerely. Good evening."
"One word more," she said hurriedly.
"Please do not refer again to my past
history. I cannot bear it!" with a
plaintive uplifting of licr hands. "My
only study now is to do what good I
can, to shrink from nothing, and so to
forget! It is as much as I can or dare
to attempt Good night," and she
passed from the room.
Burt Lloyd went home the next day.
Two years later, on his wedding tour,
Burt Lloyd surprised his young bride by
stopping at at a little out-of-the-way
country town and calling, in her com
pany, on the principal of a young ladies'
school a lovely but somewhat faded
woman, with beautiful eyes aud hair,
whom he introduced as Mrs. Harte, and
of whom he remarked, as they drove
away after a long call:
"What there may be best of ine in
my treatment of you during the com
ing years of our lives, my darling, you
may ascribe to that woman's influence
upon me. But for tier Ishould have re
mained a conceited jackanapes."
And thereupon lie told the whole
Life asi its Dangers. Life is like
a fountain fed by a thousand streams
that perishes if one be broken. Thought
less mortals are surrounded by innumer
able dangers which make it more
strange that they escape so long, than
tliat Uiey almost all perisn suddenly at
last. We are encompassed with accidents
even' day sufficient to crush the decay
ing tenement we innauic. ine seeus or
disease are planted in our constitution
hv nature. The earth ami tlio nlmnc
phere whence we draw the breath of life
are impregnated willi death; health is
maue to operate to its own destruction
tlio rood that nourishes contains the
elements oi uecay: the soul that ani.
mates it by vivify ing, first tends to wear
it out uy its own action; death lurks in
amuusu aiong tne patus.
SST1. t - it.. .n .
a tue umerence between a
honey-comb and a honevmnnn? Duo u
made up of a lot of little cells; the other
is One enormous sell only!
A Journal for the People.
Dovoted to the Interests of Humanity.
Independent in Politics and Religion.
Mive to all Live Issue, and Thoroughly
Radical In Opposlns and Exposing theAVrongs
ot the Masses.
Correspondents wrltinir overn'ssnmpil skran.
tures must make known their names to the
Editor, or no attention will be given to their
I'll tell you of a Tellow,
,,'' a fellow I have seen,
,J? neither white nor yellow,
Uut Is altogether green ;
And his name It Is not charmfrir,-
It U only common BUI.
And he wishes me to wed him, '
But I hardly think I wilt.
Oh, he whispers ofdovotlon,
t Pr.l'!vo,lon Pure and deep,
ASST '! V"lnd so very silly
1 list I almost fell asleep;
And he thinks It would be pleasant.
As we Journey down tho hill,
To go hand In hand together.
But I hardly think I will.
He told me of a cottage, 1
Ufa cottage 'rnong the trees.
And don't you think the fellow
,.V,!Inblctl ,,own "pon his knees;'
w hue the tears the ereaturo wasted ,
ere enough to turn a mill.
And he begged me to accept him,.
But I hardly think I will.
He was here last night to see me.
At first I learned to hate hlnr, -
And now I hate him still.
Yet he urges me to wed him,
But I hardly think I will.
I'm sure I would not choose Iilm,-
Eut tho very deuce is In it,
lor lie says if I refuse him
He could not II ve a minute.
S you know the blessed Bible
Plainly says we mut not kill.
So I've thought the matter over.
And I rather think I will!
A Good Movement for Women..
Any one who ojens to woman any
new avenue to raying employment, or
offers her additional facilities for ac
quiring and inducements for accumu
lating property, and thereby assists her
to gain a competence and enjoy a condi
tion of comparative pecuniary inde
pendence, does good service to tho
cause of woman and confers a great fa
vor upon society.
Mrs. M. I. Sawtellc, of Oregon, is ear
nestly engaged iu a work that should
commend itself, to the hearty approval
of the public. Through her persevering
exertions a bill is now before the Senate
with a fair prospect of becoming a law
a printed copy of whicli is before us
W.hifih enables the women of Oregon
and. the Territories, married or single,
to acquire one hundred and sixty acres
of the public domain in less time, with
less trouble, and for less money, than
men anil Heads or ramilies can under
tiie homestead law.
The land property rights acquired un
der this Act cannot bo confiscated to
pay tlio debts of husbands.
There is an abundance of rich and
arable public land in Oregon to afford
valuable homesteads to thousands of
destitute, homeless aud friendless wom
en. Commerce and great industrial pur
suits have had a monopoly for subsidiz
ing the Government long enough. It Is
time that the government of the people
should look after the interests of those
who are destitute and without employ
ment. It is not enough to offer these
lands to penniless women who are thous
ands of miles away. The Government
should appropriate funds from the
Treasury for the purpose, and offer in
duccments for enterprising and cour
ageous women to possess themselves of
its unoccupied soil.
Capitalists already, by numerous cun
ning legislative devices of their own in
stigation, have gained possession of
', nearly all the unoccupied public lands
widen at present possess any considera
ble money value. They have their
greedy eyes on the balance, nnd witli
their spare hoardings mean to monopo
lize the remainder. These and their
newspajwr organs will, of course, op
pose and denounce this movement of
.Mrs. Sawtelle. But this offers no rea
son for discouragement, but rather an
additional one for more earnest effort.
The SaIeof "Women.
Most readers will probably be sur
prised to learn that there is stilt a regu
lar fair in Europe, whicli is devoted ex
clusively to the sale of women as wives.
Such, however, is the fact. It is held in
the eastern extremity of Hungary, in a
little province lost among the moun
tains, and inhabited by families to the
manor bom. Confined by nature in
their deep valleys, and without any as
sociations beyond, the population has
remained about half savage. They have
retained the religion, the habits and
traditions of their ancestors.
On St. Peter's day of every year, one
may see in the plains of Kalinosa, com
ing from all sides, long trains of wagons.
I conducted by peasants dressed in their
best bnnday domes, bringing all sorts
of furniture and household utensils.
Droves of cattle and sheep follow tho
wagons, ornamented by new ribbons
and bells. The young girls accompany
ing them are decked out in festival
clothes, with brilliant colors and new
Jichw. The wagons are finally arranged
in line along witn tuetr several uroves.
Here congregate alt the j-oung men of
the country who are iu search of wives,
and the singular review begins the
young men filing along in front of the
The conversation Is carried on with
the father of the family. "
"How much will you give?" ho asks.
"How many cattle are there V" asks
the young man. "
Then the girl's dowry is examined
ninnc with tho cattle, and sheep, and
other fixtures. Meanwhile the young
girl stands aside, moved, out motionless,
awaiting the result of the Inspection
upon wnicit tier miure uepenus. aome
times the trade is broken, even when
the girl suits, on account of a lean cow
or a cracked table.
The crowd, paired off. circulates in tho
field. The priest promenades the ground,
gravely waiting for his services to be
called into use. Then he sings a hymn,
gives a benediction, and the thing is
finished. The bride kisses her relatives
all around, StCP3 into the watron and
leaves, along with her furniture and
outfit, for some unkuown village, and
... ill. I I 1 D J
mi :i nusuanu wnom sue lias neverseen
before in the whole course of her life.
Spiritual Pixioxs. When the ven
erable Peter Cartwright was leading a
class meeting, he got out of humor with
a sister more noisy than pious, and who
would go oft on a high key at every op
portunity. "O Lord!" exclaimed the
vociferous sister, "If I had one more
feather in the wing of my faith I could
fly away and be with my Saviour.
"Stick in the feather, O, Lord! and Jet
her go' fervently responded brother
If the word kicks you, cry W,
In fond delusion that it wi I ' ""'W
turn around and rock you to sleep.