WHAT CAME OF KILLING A RICH CNCTJE. By MARK LEMON. 1. "'Dane with me. Letty Green." salil George Poynter, to a pretty girl with tdue eyes and "hair that shamed the mora. Her ample ball dress was of the purest white muslin, fastened nt the sleeve and round tho waist with blue ribbon bluer than her eyes. "Yes," answered Letty, "I want to dance with you." The danco at an end, Ijetty tried to smooth her golden curia into order with lier little hand, and then, oH-ning her pretty blue eyes to their full, said: 'Ueorgo Poynter, I should like some range." "Yes, Ijrtty," said the young gentle man addressed; "and there's lemonade and negus and such a sponge cake," "1 like dancing with you better than y one, Letty," said George, to his pretty partner. ! 4,Do you? Yhyr replied Letty, her voice rather obstructed by the sjxmge cake. 'I think it is because I like you you re so pretty," replied the young gallant. "You musn't say that, or mamma will cold you, GeorgV. Kho "scolds every one who tells me I am pretty," said the young lady. 5 But the words had been spoken, and fronj that night until the end of the ChristnuiS holidays, George and Letty aid they were sweethearts. IL Some four or fire years had passed and "Letty Green and her mamma weiv sitting together tinder the veranda of their pretty cottage, working, and talk ing of a pleasant dav they had spent at Jdr. Poynter's, when Master George came, lie said, to bid them good-by, as he was returning to school on the following morning. "And I want to ask you a favor, Mrs. Green, and Ijetty a favor," said George, coloring slightly. Mrs. Green would grant It, of course, and so would Letty, if 6he cduld. "I want Letty to ride Hufus, my pony, whilst I am at school. Papa has'no u-se for it, and it carries a lady beautifnlly. "But to accent this proposal would give tomuch trouble."' ".Not in the least, Tom that's our Tgroom says it won't, and papa says it wont, and" I say the same; so please" say -oif 11 use the pony. Straps, the harness maker, will lend a side saddle. Mrs. Green accepted George's ofTer, as Letty was rather fragile, and pony riding had been declared to lie good for her; but Mrs. Green's income would not allow of the expense, she said. There ere people who called Mrs. Green a mean woman, and hinted that she loved money better than her child. George Poynter went to school very cheery, because he had made such a cap ital arrangement about his pony, and he often thought, when the weather was fine, of Rufus, and wondered if Letty wore riding him. George had not for eotten, perhaps, that years years ago he and Letty had called themselves sweethearts. IIL More years had passed, and brought their changes. George and Letty were ' tdone together in a small book room in Mrs. Green's house, the windows open ing to the garden. George was attired In deep mourning, and there were strips of black ribbon here and there on Lctty's white dress. They had been talking of death and sorrow until both had U-eome silent. After a time Letty took George's hand, and said: "Dear George, you must strive to meet your great affliction with a brave spirit indeed you must." "I have I do strive." replied George, looking away from Letty; "but remem ber wliat has come to me. Two years go my father died. A vear before that villain, Jackson, ruined my father broke his heart killed him. O Letty! what have I done to deserve this? What can I do?" "Trust still to tho father of the father less," replied lietty. "We do not know why great afflictions are permitted to overtake us anv moro than we can tell why great good cornea to us when we least expect or deserve it, dear George. You are young, clever, good and have many friends, and one who is more than a friend." Sho raLsed George's hand to her lips irhen she had said this (they wero true rweethearts now), and he what could he do but press her to his Itosom, and kiss her cheek burning with blushes? Mrs. Green had been walking in the garden, evidently busy with her thoughts, tine had stopped near th book room window, near enough to hear what the sweethearts were saying to each other, and sho appeared to be made more thoughtful bv what she heard. When Mr. Poynter was a thriving mer chant Mrs. Green had been more than a consenting party to her daughter's ac ceptance of George Poynter's attentions indeed, she had by several indirect means encouraged the young people to think lovingly of each other. But now matters were changed. Master George, as he was generally called, had neither houses nor lands, nor had he "ships gone to a far countrio," and Mrs. Green was perplexed how to act. fane knew that Letty loved her first sweetheart, and would perhaps love lum more now that he was poor. Mrs. Green was relieved from her per plexity more agreeably than she do- served t have been, as George Poynter called the next day, bringing with him a letter from his uncle, rich old Silas Cheeseman, promising to provide for Ids only sister's only son, and hinting that George might by good conduct look to be xieir to ail his thntty savings. Silas was a bachelor, having been Tlighted in his youth. Ho then took to loving money, and had been a most suc cessful wooer, as those clever Fpoople who know everybody's business but their own declared old Silas Cheese man to be worth his hundred thousand pounds "more or less." UncleSilas had also procured a situa tion for George in the neighboring town of St. Gnats merely a probationary sit uation, as clerk to a timber merchant, who was under pecuniary obligations to Silas. All this was very cheering, and very kind of Undo Silas, although Mr. Bawk, the timber merchant, was indeli cate enough to surmise that George was placed in his establishment as a spy, and to watch the interests of his "undo. George would have scorned such a posi tion for all Uncle Silas had to give. IV. Before we pass on to tho events of the next few years, we will introduce Chaun cey Gibbs, a friend of George Poynter. Chauncey his patronym of Gibbs was rarely mentioned Chauncey was a good I nnturivl. good for nothing, unsettled,! aimisin; fellow, who contrived to live a I gyiwy kiiul nl life on i-.HK a year, stead-1 lastly refusing to incumber himself with any employment or to incur resHnsihili ties more (to quote Chauncey) than his hat would cover. He was a native of St. Gnats and known to everylxnly In the town, but he had no regular abiding place, as he chow) to wander at will, and George Poynter would not have been sur- priced to have received one of t liuuncoy a brief letter dated from London, Paris, Vienna or IVkin. lie mostly alli-cled England, however, and London esjie cially in the winter. When money was scarce Cluiuncev walked; when lie was in funds he u vailed himself of any cheap conveyance which olTered, sometimes never inquiring its destination, but making himself equally nt home wher ever he was stranded. At Christmas time he alway-i returned to St. Gnats, and was n welcome guest at many luwjiitable tables in that thriving town, making his headouarlera, however, with his old friend and school chum, George Povn ler. He had written to announce "Ids return to St. Gnats for the Christmas approaching the end of tho two yeurs which hail Intervened since George Poynter had nssumed the stool of otliee at Mr. Hawk's, and supplies of tobacco and bitter beer were already secured for the welcome ixn-ted guest. Chauncey had a favorite lounge ic London, a tobacconist's in an out of the way street in the neighborhood of St Mary Axe. The proprietor was a beadle, or some oflicial of that character, to one of the comjwinies. and the tolniceo busi'iess was conducted during the early jtrt of the day by the beadle's wi'e and daughter. It "was Chauncey's pleasure to sit on a snulf tub in front of the counter and smoke. In turn, all the varieties of to bacco sold at the beadle's, beguiling the time, also, with animated conversations with the daughter, whose powers of rejwirtee were moro ready than refined. It is not our intention to chronicle more than Chauncey 's parting interview and what came of it, as slang from a wo man's lips is our abhorrence. Chauncey was about to leave the shop after one of his long sittings, when the younger lady said: "You won't see me again, I expect, Mr. Chauncey; I'm going to be married." "You married!" "Y'ea, me; why not, 1 should like to know?" asked the lady, n little piqued. "I'm sure 1 envy the happy man," re plied Cluumcey. "It's not the Scotch man at the shop door, i its" "Well, I'm sure!" said tho voung lady, and without another word she tiounceu into the little parlor at the back of the shop. 'Now you've regularly offended Bockv," said Mrs. Beadle, "and such old friends as vou was and she to lie married to-morrow, and so rosi notable. " "Well. I'm glad to hear that," said Chauncey. ""A here's the wedding to ler I'll buy a bundle of water creeses and strew her way into church as an apology for my rudeness." ' "Oh! she won't want no op logy from you she knows what you are Mr. Chaun cey; but she's to lie married at TO to-morrow, at St. Mary Axe's, but we don't want it spoko of, as the bridegroom's nervous," said Mrs. Bern lie, in a whisper. "I'll le there in time," replied Chaun cey. "I suppose her father will give her away in full cotstume, cocked liat, staiT, and all th-t." "He will do all thingi that is proper, Mr. Chauncey," paid M"s. Bendle, with much dignity, and Beckvat that moment calling "Mother!" in rather an hysterical tone, Chauncey was allowed to" find his way out of tho shop as he pleased. On tho following morning Chauncey was at the church of St. Mary Axo a quarter of an hour bef ore the time ap pointcd for the ceremony wluch was to unite Miss Beadle and somebody to their lives' end. A hale old gentleman between W and TO, perhaps, was tho next arrival. Having made some very confidential communi cation to tho old pew opener, ho was con ducted, evidently in great trepidation, to tho vestry, and there immured until the arrival of tho tobacconist and family but without the emblematical Scotch man. Chauncey concluded, therefore, that Miss Beadle had captivated tho old gentleman now awaiting his doom in the condemned cell called the vestry. The Beadle was in mufti, but his cos tume still partook of tho nplendor of his otiice, and a canary colored waistcoat with glittering buttons of ruby glass ren dered him somewhat conspicuous even in the gloom of St. Mary Axe. His gen eral expression and bearing wa3 that of a tempered indignation, as though he were about to consent to the mlhction of somo injury which'ho could avoid if he pleased. A word, a look, might have provoked him to have torn the license from tbe parson's hands and to have dragged his daughter from the altar. He was therefore allowed to walk up the aibio unmolested. Mrs. Beadle was very lively on her en trance to tho church more lively. Per haps, than black tea and the occasion warranted; but, whatever had leen the stimulating cause of her cheerfulness, it ran in plenteous drops from her eyes as sho approached tho altirr.'fcnd must have been exhausted entirely by the end of tho ceremony. Kiobe weeping for her children would have been a dry nurse compared with Mrs. Beadle. Miss Beadle was resigned, as lecame her to Iks at 31. Vith closed eyes and drooping head sho leaned ujiin her mother's ana until, 5 vitU par.Uable confusion, sho released her hand to put up her parasol as she drew near the altar. Chauncey rushed to her relief, and with some difliculty iossessod himself of the incumbrance, and as thero were no at tendant bridesmaids tho impudent fellow attached lumseir to tho wedding party, to be, as ho said, 'generally usef ul and to nick u the pieces." Theceremony proceeded with all proper solemnity, but there was dome associa tion with the name of ono of tho con tracting parties which made Chauncey tairiy suur, anu men determine to wit ness tho signing of tho certincate, to satisfy a doubt which liad suddenly en tered his mind. Tho wedding party retired to the ves try when "Amazement" had ended the ceremony, and proceeded to sign tho reg isters attesting the union which had just been solemnized. Mr. Chauncey Gihbe being, as ho said, a friend of tho family, signed also, and thero read what had better be revealed m the next chapter. Any one had only to have walked down tho High street of St. Gnats tc have known that Christmas was at hand. i no grocers windows were overrunning with iusciousncss; tho butchers' shops wero co choko full of beef and mutton that the butchers themselves would have to cut their way out into tho street; the poulterers had laid in such stocks of tur keys, geese and chickens, that Mr. Bal bngo's calculating machine could aloen j ha e computed them mere human in tellect would have failed. Tho window frames of the house seemed sprouting with luillv and "tho Ivy creen. and no doubt but mistletoe hung, kiss provok ing, within. Mrs. Green had msdo every room In her cottage an anagram of her name, us it was holly decked everywhere. Nor was the sacred bough forgotten "on the young tieople's account, she said, though 1a-Uv and George had long ceas-d to want an excuse for a kiiei." Georire Povnter was waitinc the ar rival of his friend, Chauncey Gibbs. A glorious tire blazed within the grate; the table was spread to welcome the coming guest, for i hose delectation a faultless rumpsteak plo was browning in the oven. The train, punctual to its time, was heard screaming into the ftation close by, and in a few minutes afU'r the two friends were together. If you are hungry it I tantalizing to listen to tho luirticulars of a dinner vou are not to share; if you are sated, you are bored by the recitjkitulation of dain ties you care not to touch, and therefore we will allow the frit-nds to take their meal in inare, Neither will we join their after revel when two or three old cronies came in and made a niht of it, until George and Chauncey sought their beds fairly tired out with jollity. W hen breakfast was over the next morning, and Chauncey found tluit George had excused himself from at tendance at the timber yard, he said: "I am glad vou can give tho morning to me, as 1 luive some news for you that uiav, perhaps, suritrise and annoy vou." "Indeed! replied George, "Wliat Is it?" "I would not touch tiimn It List night. although 1 think somo immediate action should be taken by you or your friends," continued Chaunoev, looking very ser ious. "Pray rpeafe out," said George. "Oh res. I must do that, lor I have no tact, never Uad. to make an unpleas ant matter agreeable. Have you heard from vour undo latelv?" 'Yes, two days ago principally on Mr. Hawk's business," replied George. "Mt old bov, vour uncle never in tended you any good when he Bhut you up in that hvg hour of Hawk's. He "put you there ror lus own seiiisu purpose anu nothing else." " by do you say that asked George. "He has led you" to supjose tluit you were to be his heir some day, has be not?" "lie has never said that in direct terms; but be certainly lias hinted at such a pos sibility." " I hen ho s an old scamp. If he don t deserve a harder name," said Chauncey, thumping the table. "Two days ago he did his best to disinherit j-ou. Y'ou may stare, but I saw with my own eyes, heard with my own ears, that old ragamumn marry a bouncing woman of thirty." "Marryl Cnclo bilas marry! "Fast "as St. Mary Axe could do It, to a snutl sellers daughter;" and Uien Chauncey, to the astonishment of his friend, narrated what we already know of the wedding at which Mr. Chauncey had so olliciousiy assisted. "This is indeed a terrible blow, said George, "an unexpected blow." " es; 1 am afraii, knowing the hands he lias fallen into, that he won't have a will of lus own when a few mouths have passed," said Chauncey. "I found out now the matter came liliout. Old Silas was very ill, and wouldn't liave a doctor; but a Beadle, I call him got at him, and then introduced his daughter as nurse. They first phvdcked him nearly to death, and then laought him round with Itottled porter. Thy told the old fool they saved his life, and he lie lievedit: and out of gratitude, and the want of a nurse, he proxsed to Miss High-dried, and married her." "This hits mo harder than you know, Chauncey much harder. Poor Letty and 1 can never hopo now" "Oh, nonsense! replied Chauncey. "Keep your uncle's secret, as be will if ho can. marry Letty, and let Mother Green storm afterwards." George eliood bi9 head, and then sai-J; "Chauncey, you advise that which is dishonorable." "All fair in love, old boy," replied Chauncey, with a laugh; "anil if I were you, to gain the woman who loves me, whom I love, I'd kill my uncle." "Great heaven! what do vou say? But I sec you were joking. No; my "course U perfectly clear so far as Mrs. Green and Letty aro concerned. I go to them at once, and tell what ban taken place. If I am forbidden to continue my visits by Mrs. Green who hhall bo oteyed. Letty, I know, will tc always true to me; and when I can make a homo for her, 1 can claim her with honor." "Devilish pretty speech," said Chaun cev," and all right. I have no doubt. I still say, kill old Silas Cheeseman, and tret married; or, stay pcrhais yes you shall write to him, i ow that he's honevmoon tmck tell l ' n you want to follow lib exarnple, an i require ten tluu .ml pounds to do it." "1 understand this nonsense, Chaun cey," replied George, with n sad smile. "Your friendly chaff Is well meant; but my case is very Berious. And so good-by for an hour or two. i pu will lind me here after that time." Tho road to Mrs. Green's cottage never seemed bo long before to Georire Poynter as it did now that he felt his fate. Tho happiness, for a time at least, of his dar ling Letty depended uion tho interview ho was seeking with her mother. Ho waa not without somo justification for the misgivings which beset him, as Mrs. Green had more than twice or thrice casually hinted at what a mother's course should " bo to prevent a child "marrying into tioverty. Indeed, she had once told him, when Letty waa not present, how glad she was when his uncle's recognition of hiiu produced such a favorable turn in Georges fortunes, as it had spared them all the pain which she should have felt it her duty to have inflicted, lho crisis had only been deferred. There were tears from. Mrs. Green regrets and pity; but thero were wero also cold, cruel words, which wero not to lx gainsaid, unless IxHty could disobey Uie mother who had loved her all her life, and lived only to soo her happy. George spared his Letty and her mother any contest as to tho decision to oo maae. Ho promised to obey Mrs. Green in all she required of him; but ho promised Letty also, when thev were left alone, that his love never should change, nor should a doubt ever liave place in his thouglifrj that ehe could change one tittle in her lovo for him. And as lie held her to his beating heart not for tho last time, no! no! ho told her how ho would ctrive to make a homo for both that their pro bation would bo short if a bravo resolu tion could only find tho meauato work with. And they would come-the al ways did; for had not they been promised bv "the one which could not lie? Poor hearts! they parted very sadly; but A good angel was already bufylng himself for their reunion. And such uu angel! Chauncey Giblm! " I Ie won t write to old Silas?" Then I will," said Chauncey, half aloud, when George hail left him. "lie won't kill his uncle an old fool? Then I will." He oened tho long blade of his iM-nknifa and trimmed a quill which he found on George's desk. I hero were paper and Ink. as may lie 8upMKMd, and there was also the ready writer, Cliauneev, who liegan: "HtT Gnats, Deo. 20, 13. "Df.ar Sib As my friend, Mr. George Poynter, Is unfortunately Buffer ing ut this tune from a severe blow in his chest ('That's perfectly true') 1 have Placed tnvself at his service: Mid although I shall not express myself as he would have done on tho subject-. ' 1 hat s true again, 1 fancy')! hope vou will take the will for tha deed. News has reached us here, dear Hr ('He'll like that dear sir') that after many years of dclilierate calculation ('No, not calculation ) -onHideration, you have discovered that man waa not made to live alone, and then-fore, with a wise regard for vour own happiness, you have sought connubial felicity at the altar of St. Mary Axe. ('Yery g(xl! muttered Chauncey; 'tho name 6f tho church will show that his secret is known to us.) 1 know not whether it is your wish that your blissful union tdiould be made gen erally known; but 1 cannot hesitate (on the iKtrt of my friend, I mean) to olfer you my sincerest congratulations, and to wMi vou all the happiness you deserve. ('That's true; anil i RhouliI like to add, all you are likely to find.') I am aware that what nu have done must neci-s- sarilv interfere largely, if not entirely, with those expectations which you once or twice TtohaH 1 say promised.' ro encouraged me to entertain ('What would old George pay to that.') and though 1 descend from tho cloud- ('Good figure that') to the sulstratum of daily toil and eruinncnt anxiety, I shall know that vou aro sitting happy at your domestic hearth, smoking the li!e of peace ( " 1 1 wants something elso to round o!f the sentence ) and and (Oh, blow it!') rocking tbe cradle. "May I request if not askinsr too much at this hlissful period of your life ulme. to tell me that I mar ad I tomv affection ate remembrances an Aunt Cbeeseman? "I remain, dear sir, "Your affectionate nephew, "1'orGEoKGE Poynter" Cliaimcey paused. "It won't do to sign my name, or Mrs. o. win rememticr it. Yes I have it they never beard the name of C Gums." Having pealed and directed hU letter, Chauncey proceeded to post it. In traveling down from London Chauncey had learned that a projected branch railway from St. Gnats was in high favor with all the moneyed Interest of tho place; ami when he Buggeated the propriety of killing old Silas he bad this railway in his mind, as on tho following day tbe allotment of filiares was to tale place. Chauncey knew as ho knew everybody Mr. Golding. tlio lianker and chairman" pro tern, of tho projected com pany. Witliout tho least misgiving or hesitation be called upon that highly re iqiectalilo gentleman, and, ufter a few minutes' interview, gave tho conversa tion an extraordinary twist, or jerk, as tliuf: "You've heard of tho great windfall to our townsman. George Poynter, I su pose," said Chauncey. "No? Well, n r liaps it was hardly to be expected, seeing what a retiring fellow ho is." "What is it? ' asked Mr. Golding. "He is a young man Tor whom I have the greatest respect. I shall bo glad to hear of any pood fortune to him." 'And it is a gotnl fortunel II is uncle, you know, was immensely rich," said Chauncey. "Tho old bra hefor is no P'ore went oil three days ago and my friend George was long ago his appointed heir." "Silas Cheeseman gone!" remarked Mr. Golding. with a elirug: "a very money getting man; and must have died very rich very rich." "E-ribr-mously rich! Singlo man many years; no expenses, you know," said Chauncey. "I witnessed the last moments of the old bachelor nt St. Mary Axe. Went o!T quite composedly after his will was accomplished. By the bye. it strikes mo you might oecure the interest of young George." "How, my dear cirV" nsked Mr. Geld ing; "we are always glad to secure a good client" "And with puch wealth!" paid Chaun cey. "You allot shares in the St. Gnats Junction to-morrow, do you not?" "Yes." repliW tho banker; "and the a pplicat ions exceed any t hing I ever k new ; tho shares will Ikj livo or six premium before to-morrow is over." "That's your plan, then! Secure liim a thousand. "A thousand" exclaimed Mr. Golding. "Well, half a thousand nay live hun dredfor George Poynter; I'll let him knew whoso inlluenco ho has to thank for them. You'll bo tho banker of his immenso wealth his friend adviser." "But ho has not applied," said Mr. Golding. "But vou have. "What's a paltry fivo hundred to you in comparison to after gain or to lain? Ho won't caro for the monev, but the friendliness of tho thing." paid Chauncey, with a flourish of tho hand, ns though ho were proposing tho merest trillo of a sacrillce. "And you, my dear sir?" abked Mr. Golding. "Oh, notldng; I want nothing; and you may rely uxm my secrecy." Mr. Golding pressed Chauncey's hand, and thanked him for the friendly sug tion. Mr. Golding had but one confidant, Mr. Baxter, who at that moment entered tho bank, and was announced as being there. "Do you object to my naming tho mat ter to lay friend Kaxter? great influence at the board," said Golding. "Not in the least; ierhai3 ho may help you to make the allotment a thousand, ' replied Chauncey. "Oh, impossible my good friend," said tho banker. "Show in Mr. Baxter." Chauncey's communication having been rejcated to Mr. Baxter, tho diplo matist thought he had better retire; but ho had not gone many yards from tho bank when Mr. Baxter overtook him. "Delighted to hear what you have told us concerning your friend Poynter an excellent young man, and deserves all he gets." "I am sura of that," said Chauncey, "whatever good it may be." "He'll resido at St. Gnats, I suppose?" "Y'es," answered Chauncey. "And will want a house suitable to his new position?" "Yes." "Now I am wanting to sell Prospect House yonder fino garden, abundance of water and all that would it suit him, , do you think?" Cliauncey was rather posed by this in quiry, and said therefore, "Perhaps." "1 think it wouid; '3,500 is what I ask and could get It, but I dislike the man. You know Cfipt. llanger? of course you must." said Baxter, with emphasis. Chauiieey did not and would not know Capt. Hanger. "Ho U a troublesome fellow, and 1 should ho glad If he would leave the place," aid Mr. Haxter. "If Mr. Poyn ter will buy ho shall have the prefer ence." Chauncey saw no objection to that, and promised to speak to his friend If Mr. Baxter would make the offer in writ ing; but ..'IS, MM), he thought, wouid be the utmost that Mr. Poynter wouid give for a bous". Mr. Baxter paused for a moment, and as they v.ere opjiosite. his counting house he iuvitetl Chauncey in, and subsfuently gave him a letter to Mr. George Povnter, containing an unconditional offer of Prospect House for i."3j0. Chauncey carefully put away the letter and bade Mr. Baxter good day. Poor George had returned to his lodg ing when Chauncey had transacted all iIm itnortant business we liave recorded, tottu uot all his friend s good spirits could roune lib n from almost despondency. "My oli I boy," said Cliauncey, "you 11 pink dowii;Vlown, if vou show "the white feather is this way. You're youm enough to work, km like it I never did." "It Is riot hard work hard fighting with the world, that I am fearing; it is the effect of this day's cruel trial upon oor lietty." A nd then George told Chauncey all that had passed.' "Well, vou would be so hastily honor able," replied Chauncey; "you had better Ix-en advised by me waited a day or two until vou had killed yo"r uncle. O orge looked at hi-3 friend anil raw a cui.ning twinkle in his eye: but Chaun cey had bis own reasons for saruig no more on the subject. George was very ill tlie next morning too ill to go to the timber yard; so Chauncey offered to see Mr. Bawk, and. if business pressed, to supply George's Place for a day or two. Sir. liawk de clined Mr. Chauncey's services, and was so excessively piolite and anxious in bis Inquiries r.tiout Sir. Ueorge that Chaun cey thought tho story of yesterday liad reached Mr. Hawk. It was not eo; but Capt. Ranger had been to the timber yard to 6ee Mr. Poyn ter, and had surprised Mr. Bawk by as suring him that hiaclerk must havecoine into money, as he had bought IYosuect house at a sum which he (Copt. Han ger) had refused to give, lie had. however, left a commission with Mr. llawk: and Chauncey wormed out of the timber mercliatit the following particu lars: Captain Ranger, it appeared, had mar ried a lady with money not always a desirable exchange for a man'a life and the lady never allowed him to forget the iecuniary artof tlieir engagement. She had taken a fancy the word is not strong enough a longing for Prospect Honre. and tlio captain had undertaken to obtain it; but, being fond of a bar gain, he liad disgusted Mr. Baxter with a t iresome negotiation, and tho house had slipped from him. To confess this to Mrs. Caitain linger would lie to in voke a conjugal teroiest; and in his ex tremity he bad come to Mr. Bawk to in tercede with his clerk to transfer his purchase. "Well." paid Cliauncey. "George Li a good natured fellow toogwd natured ami I will undertake to eav that the cap tain sliall have lrospect House for ti, 000." "Four thousand pounds!" exclaimed Mr. Bawk. "And not ono philling less," said Cliauncey firmly. "The houso is worth it as it stands; "but compute its value to Captain Hanger, and it is cheap at any money." Mr." Bawk pleaded to a stono agent when lie tried to eoften Mr. Chauncey; and Captain Ranger coming into the counting houso at the moment, heard the terms proposed, raved like a maniac for ten minutes, and then consented to be swindled robbed, for the sake of peace and quietness. Chauncey could lie a man of btii iness when he pleased, and he was now in a business mood, lie therefore trotted off tbe angry captain tocn attorney's, made the transfer, and secured a prospective li. 1,000 for bis friend George by killing his uncle. As tho day wore on. Chauncey waited upon Mr. Golding, and found that gen tleman writing to Mr. 1'oynter, and ex pwssiug the great pleasure it gave him to band him a letter of allotment for 600 L-haivs in the St. Gnats Junction, etc. etc. etc. Railway; adding a hope that the firm of Golding Silvcrton & Co. might liave Mr. Poynter's name on their books as an honored client. Chauncey undertook to deliver the let ter, and to us his influence with bis friend to make the only acknowledgment he could for .such disinterested gener osity. Poor George was very ill at ease when hiu friend i:hniineov returned, and nt first was dist?osed to be angry at wliat he . . . , !t Ml icit to oo ins inconsiucnue rauiery. "I nm pcrious. old toy, quite serious," paid Chauncey, throwing Golding's letter and tho transfer on the table. "I liave killed old Silas Cheeseman, and there aro pome of tho proceeds of the transaction. Open read und satisfy yourself." Gcorgo opened theenvelopecontaining the transfer, and then Mr. Golding's let ter. Ho was in a mist. Ho thmight lie was delirious and had lost his reason; and Chauncey was a long time making him comprehend how he bad come to be pos sessed of Profiton transfer f l.CX I Tout ou CD kharcs, premium 6 per share... U Total .3,500 and all by killing old Silas Cheeseman! Poor George was hard to satisfy that theso largo gains were honorably come by, and when he went to sleep hetlreamt that he had robbed the bank and had eet Prospect Houso on fire. The following morning brought a letter from Uncle Silas. i Tlio poor old dotard expressed himself so pleased nt his nephew's forgiveness of an act which ho liad thought would have provoked only revilinga and wicked wishes, that he enclosed a check for 1, 000 and his avunclar blessing. Waa ever another fortune made by such means? Georgo had all the money; Mr. Golding begging his retention of the shares, as his commercial acuteness might be dam aged by a disclosure of the trick which had been practised upon his cupidity, and Capt. Ranger was submissively satis fied, having told his cara sposa that he had bought Prospect Uouso a decided bargain. Mrs. Green would have had to endure many mortifying reflections bad it rot been Christmas time hen Letty a;sd George and all other estranged friends, are willing' to forget tlieir old grievances, and, in thankfulness that 6uch a season was vouchsafed to erring man, humbly imitate the Great Forgiver. A ChrUrtma Group . The Rhlntaff bo!ljr bangs upon tb wall, IU scarlet cluxters gleaming fn the light Of ruddy fire Blow, nij th welcome sound Of silver lnushter; ripples through tho room. From youthful rok-ra, riiiifct the luiKt.lrtoo Its white, t rati parent bemltots ternptintfiy Hone o'er their sunny beads. Kow kitb and tin Art grouped la clrclo round the cheery hearth. Each tell lug his experience of the year. For soma there bo that only meet at Yule. The grey hatred granrfxhlre safely nods his bead Whet tine the prr.ttle of the four year old The golden tressed youngling of the fioclc Is poured into bis ear; and on his knees. Eager to pntte, doth she, wee fairy, sit, The household darling of a score of hearts. In yonder snug armchair tils pran-lraamma, Whilst ten-year Tommy steals beside her knee, Knowtaf full well, the bright eyed, saucy rogue. The bidden soft spot in the old dame's heart; And with a loving, half regretful gaze. Look ou the children's parents, carried bade To" the "long syne" when they ibeniaelrea rtr blest la childhood's happy, glad Baeotwtoasneaa Of ills to come; and so, forgetting Time, They la their treasured triaesoms Uoom again. i a. h. a " Cba Jit .JyfTy'- Do you blame turn? The mince pie was a Chritmaa faror ite in the time of the poet Uerrick, who wrote of it: The whHe the nmt is a-h redding " For toe rare mince pie, r And ibe plums stand by To CU the pasta that's a-kaeediag. The Day Before Christmas. Fat Turkey I've been firing higW lately. Wonder what's (tfe afatter. What is this Christ Ui&s 'business any way? Thin Turkey (who ha consumption) You will know before night; ta, tal Sweet and Bitter. How sue", and fresh the soft spring air A baia aa appetizer. it makes we feel like ent.'nl whew! Cbnsaru the feniibserl Burlington Free Pre, A Stranger Among Strangers. New York Belle Do you know that large s New York is there are only four bandred people tbere who can claiiii to reaUy belong to the elite? Omaha kin Sbooldot wonder. It's tbe Irmeliest place I ever cot into. OllULha World. - - Etltel IHploma. That Ethel i an art Mt. All miM liiiil rHh grace; How eouid ona mr doubt It Who'd ever aeea aer facer -loodoe) ltd Kn ' SP,CE OP THE SEASON. The Chrlatrnis time cjmes on apace and charity bejfina to hum. The prettiest thing in stocking Christ mas morning is a pretty girl's foot. When Kris Kringle coi.ies down th chimney it 830ta Kris and the childrea a4 well. ' Santa Clans is aiI to be of Cenrnta ori- gin. His favorite oath, we presume, is "By Chimney.", y The pawnbroker Knows that Christmas iscominjr, o does tbe young man and so does tiic fi'rl. . . A facetious divine got so many Christ mas slippers that he said: "Do ladies think me a centipede!" A Christmas bel'e Tb- arirt with the rinse fn h r voice who will always chime in when anything is told. With many people Christmas presents will only come through the imagination, which will enable them to exhibit great presents of mind. There is nothing the matter with the small boy who p esents his mother with a pair of felt slippers for Christmas. He U just a smart boy, that's all. The custom of having a ronsuur Christ mas dinner is not only an ancient one, but It is tbe most universal of any custom known to the civilised weld, Talk about oil trust, rubber trusts, coal rusts, etc.. as much as you like, but what we want abcut holiday tirno is a turkey or goose trussed. Bost on Courier. Remember that a Christmas gift gains nothing in significance by being costly, and that to seek to outdo' others in pecu niary outlay, simply because you have the means, is vulgar. . "Ah, my son,' said the minister, 'fm glad to see you in the Sunday -choot at last. Is this your first Sunday f " Yea, sir " " Bow do j ou like itr Oh. guess. I kin stnnd it until after the Christmas tree," Tid-Biis .As Christmas - approaches, the "young man who has beeu toasting his toes and lounging on the best parlor wfa, tries to get ud a quarrel with his girl so as to es cape bankrupting himself on a Christmas present. . ' . , Monetary! Clarksby "Good morninji, Mrs. Gadhy. ShopDinjr. I see V Mrs. Gadby. " Yes; I've hn picking up a few . litUe thinirs fir ChHstmas." C "1 haven't seen Mrs. Gadby on "change late ly." Mrs. G. (.laconically) "I have,"