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lewis >i. (frisx, proprietor. J ^n Jnkjicnknt Ifamilji Itctosppcr: Jor t|c promotion of tjn ^political, Social, Agricultural anir Commercial Interests of tjje Sontji. |tebms?$3.00 a year, in advance. VOL. 19. YOBKYILLE, 6. C., THURSDAY, MAY 39, 1873. jSTO. 22. I f j ? .f ?La J!?nn?inn In toliicli a Via mnv JU (Original .ffotg. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. JOHN'S WIFE. BY E. VICTORIA LOMAX. CHAPTER VI. As I expected, instead of the "family gathering," we found quite a large party when we arrived at Mrs. Lewis'. Henrietta greeted us with her usual effusion, but her countenance changed, I thought, when she found that only Nellie, John and myself, had accepted her invitation. "I am too sorry Mary did not come," was her first remark to me. "Her cousin Richard is paying us a short visit, aud I know it would edve them so much pleasure to be together." o "Mary remained at home to be with her brother Harry, who has just arrived after an absence of several years. I hope Mr. Howard will come to Elmwood and see her before he leaves. I will ask John to invite him." "Oh! you need not do that. I can assure you Mr. Howard has no idea of leaving this neighborhood without seeing her. He would venture to go to Elmwood without an invitation, sooner than not accomplish his end." She turned off after making this speech, and left me in anything but a pleasant frame of mind. There seemed to be some mystery connected with this "cousin Richard," that made even his name disagreeable to me. The conversation I had had with Mary, on the night of her reception day, recurred to my mind, and, for the first time, I began to regard it as a matter of consequence. Why she should object to seeing Mr. Howard, and what the "end" was which he was so determined to accomplish, were two things I could not understand; but a large party was not exactly the place for me to form an opinion in a matter of this kind, so I determined to put the subject from me, and wait until I was in my own little room at home, with no one to disturb me. I could then put on my "thinking cap" and pass judgment. The evening did not pass very pleasantly to me. I found few of the old friends that Henrietta spoke of, but I heard some good music, and saw others enjoy themselves, which is always a great pleasure; so I did not have a very disagreeable time after all. I had noticed a stranger in conversation with John very often during the evening, and then I saw him dancing with Nellie. I conjectured he was "cousin Richard," but I was not certain of it until late in the evening, when John introduced him as "Mary'scousinMr. Howard." To my astonishment, he took his seat by me, evidently with the intention of remaining some time; and, from his manner and conversation, I soon saw that he considered us in the light of relatives, or pretend ed he did ; and he was now going to try his best to make that relationship an agreeable one,. In spite of my prejudice against him?for which I will acknowledge I had not much cause?my acquaintance made quite an agreeable impression on me. He seemed to be a perfect gentleman, and was well educated. In addition to this, he had that peculiar tact or talent?which is it ??which made you feel, while with him, that he could appreciate aud sympathize with whatever was good and true, in your own nature. It will, no doubt, appear strange that I should have formed this opinion of him on so short an acquaintance; but my reader must remember that he considered us, and wished us to consider him, iu the light of a relation; consequently there was none of that reserve which is usual between persons meeting for the first time. He had spoken of Mary when he was introduced, but did not mention her name again during the evening. We discussed music, books and flowers, with the usual subjects .of small talk, and still he did not seem to have any intention or desire of leaving me. I do not know how it was ; but, unconsciously, the tone of our conversation changed, and we were fast drifting from the broad and safe path of "generalities," to the far more dangerous one of individual feeling. He was speaking of C..I nr. r1t>V> I ^?V>5o i A do nf it?and astir] ? ii iUUUOUl^ Uio 4UVU VI *v MUM "Do you know Miss Leslie, I think the truest form of friendship is that existing between a man and a woman ?" "What is generally called platonic affection ?" I asked, smiling. "No," he replied; nothing of the kind. The words love and affection, are both something separate from my idea of friendship. That word embraces everything. I would sooner trust my life, or ray honor, iu the hands of a true friend, than in those of a persou I merely loved." " 'Merely loved'!" How differently men and women must feel on this subject. Now, what you call 'merely loving,' I think embraces everything that is good and true in our nature. It is, to me, all that your friendship is to you, and a great deal more." I did not think how earnestly I was speaking, until, on looking up, I saw a smile on his face. I felt mine crimson as he said? "I am erlad vou have found it all this." I recovered myself immediately, and replied? "We were speaking of ideas, you know; not experiences." "But my friendship was not an idea. I have found it a reality. Do you intend to say you have not proved the same with your love ?" "Never mind what I intended to say, Mr. Howard ; what I do say is, that I think we are discussing far too grave subjects, considering our surroundings. Are you fond of dancing ?" There was an expression about his eyes, as I thus abruptly changed the subject, that convinced me he saw through my little subterfuges, and looking at me as if he were thinking "very cleverly done, but I have not finished with you yet," he answered my question in his usual manner. "Yes, I am very fond of it; but not such as we see in this country. I never saw the 'poetry of motion' exemplified but once, and that was in Cuba. I wish you could visit that country?how you would enjoy its beauties." Visit Cuba! I wondered if he knew what he was saying wheu he asked me that question. Could he possibly have met with?but I would not think of it; and even if he had, Owen was not the man to speak to Mr. Howard of me. ** No, it was absurd in me to fancy such a thing for a moment?they never could have met. But on looking up?to say something, I did not know exactly what?I found him regard ' ing me far too earnestly for one who had seen j J me for the first time that evening. I saw that | , I had almost betrayed myself, and in order | to do away with any impression which might : have been made in his mind, I said iudifferj ently? "Yes, I thiuk I would like to visit Cuba. "Were you there for any length of time?" j "Several years. If yon care to listen, I should like very much to tell you of an incident which occurred while I was there. Perhaps it may interest you, as you seem to be fond of the heroic." "I shall be delighted to hear it," said I, only too glad that the conversation was relapsing into generalities. I "It was in 18?." said Mr. Howard, "that j I visited Cuba, with a surveying party from j this country. We had been out nearly a year | when the yellow fever ravaged that country. We had a physician with us, and by his advice we kept as far away from the sea coast as possible. After seeing us encamped at a safe distance, he asked Colonel Gray, the superintendent of the work, to allow him to return to Havana. The Colonel objected for some time, but at length gave his consent, and our doctor left us to go to a city where death alone reigned, in order to try to help some suffering fellow-being. Now, what do you think of such a man as that ?" "I think everything that is good of him." "I know you do," he replied. "His name was Owen Morris." And with these words, he left me. Yes, he knew him ; and it was for Owen's sake that he had spent almost an hour in talking to me. Owen Morris! how long since I had heard that name; but I thanked God, that I heard it now, for the first time for years, connected with that which proved to me, howgood and noble he was. But I had no right to think of him, except as a friend. The "merely loving" days were over; that is, if they can be over, for those who have once 1 ?mrvwrv 4-r\ Qonli rv+lmr Tiplfl ueeu wuui ?c ?YCID iu wwi vtuvo -..j. those who, in following the path of duty, trample under foot the love which is the.life J of their own and another's heart. CHAPTER VII. We found Harry and Mary awaiting us when we returned. The former expressed great pleasure when he heard Richard Howard was in the neighborhood ; but Mary said nothing, though she must have heard John's reraarkthat hehad invited him to visitElmwood. I was too much worn out by the events of i the evening, to indulge in one of my long rev[ eries. I determined I would try to dismiss everything disagreeable from my mind, and then, perhaps, after a good night's rest, I should be better able to think over and decide on my future conduct toward Mr. Howard. At the breakfast table, the next morning, Harry said? "I think I will ride over and see Dick this morning. Perhaps I can induce him to return with me." "I wish you would," said John. "I do not know when I have seen a stranger who impressed me more agreeably." "And if you have no objection, Harry, I will ride over with you," said Mary ; and then turning to me, she added, in rather a confused nnn r\v* T tliAH * uiauuu) -L buvuguv "You kuow I would dislike to offend Henrietta, and she might not like my remaining at home last night." "Ifyou will wait until this afternoon, Mary, I will go with you," said John; "but this morning I have some business to attend to." "I think I had better go with Harry, Joftn ; it may rain this afternoon." "Very well; just as you choose. I hope you will come back with more color in your cheeks. You look pale this morning." Mary answered quickly?her cheeks anything but pale? "Yes, I know the ride will do me good. Let us start early, Harry." "In an hour, if you say so. I will order j the horses now." Nellie and I were left alone in the breaki fast room, and she immediately took advantI age of that opportunity to ask me what I thought of Mr. Howard. "Mentally, morally, or physically, Nellie?" I asked, smiling. "Oh ! Miss Mattie, I see you are just trying to throw dust in your little sister's eyes; but I you need not think you deceive me. You know you are on the eve, this moment, of losing your heart with him. When have you spent a whole hour with a young gentleman I before, talking in the most confidential man ner, too, all the while? You have the premature symptoms of a case of?I was going to say, hydrophobia; but I believe that is not the name it bears in polite society, though, no doubt, it often deserves it. However, I will spare your blushes and not ask any further questions, but proceed immediately to alter ray white dress." "There is not the slightest probability of your ever having to wear it on my account, Nellie. But seriously, I wish you would tell ; me what you think of our new acquaintance ?" j In a cousinly, brotherly, or strangerlv light, Mattie?" "In any light you please, so that I may find out your opinion." "Knowing the influence that ray opinion has generally had over you in matters of this j kind, it gives me great pleasure to express it, j feeling sure I will benefit you." I "Oh ! Nell, are you never going to be anything but a child, turning everything into fun and frolic ?" "Yes, on the 4th of June, 18?, you may j expect to see a radical change in the iraportu-1 ; uate female who is now addressing you. I3ut | until then, 'bear with me, my friends, bear : j with me' now, for my opinion of Mr. Howard. | I think he is decidedly good looking, has j charming manners, and is evidently a man of the world. He has seen more of life in one year than you aud I will ever see, even if we ! live to be ugly, old women ; which, by the way, I have not the slightest idea of doing. i He is very agreeable, and I fancy would prove a pleasant companion to those who liked him. This is all the good I know about him. Now j for the other side of the picture. He is not true in any respect, except when it suits his interest to be so; he has some object in view i in paying this visit to Henrietta, which is not the fair Henrietta. He is determined to be I intimate with the family at Elmwood, and , from the manner in which he so perfectly succeeded in throwing dust in the eyes of your dear brother John, I thiuk we may expect to I have the pleasure of Mr. Howard's society very often. And this is ray unbiased opinion ' of the individual in question. You can | judge for yourself that I dislike him most cordially." "I am sorry for that, Nellie?not for the reason you suppose, so you need not smile; ! but as ho is Mary's relative, I regret that he is disagreeable to any member of our family." "Oh ! you need not fear on my account. I shall rather enjoy playing off on him the game he thinks he is playing off so well on us. I feel sure there is no love lost between himself and the Elmwood household." "Did he speak of Mary to you ?" "Yes; his conversation was principally about her, and I think it was the manner in which he spoke or tier, mat urst iuuuc uc uioub? him." "I thought he professed great fondness for her?" "Why he is devoted to her. You never heard such praise as he bestowed upon her, but at the same time, whenever he spoke of her marriage with John, it was always as if we were indebted to him for Mary having become a member of our family. He advised ] this, and he advised that! Now, it is my private opinion, that he knew nothing at all of the matter, and I think I shall tell him so the very first chance I have." "Hush ! Nellie. You must not talk in this way. Neither of us have had time to know Mr. Howard yet, and perhaps we may both be mistaken in our ideas about him. He cannot be altogether bad, for Harry seems fond of him and I think Mary liked him, too, before she was married ; so we must try and change our opinion of him." "Then you dislike him also?" "No, I did not say that; but?" "You meant it, notwithstanding," said Nellie, as she left the room, smiling. I sat motionless for some moments ; unpleasant thoughts crowded so fast upon me, that I found I would be fit for nothing until I had arranged, in my own mind, what was /i an a utrsi iv uc uuuc/? I agreed with Nellie in the opinion she had expressed of Mr. Howard. That he had come to the neighborhood for some other object than to see Henrietta Lewis, I felt sure; but what could that object be? For one instant the thought flashed through my mind thftt Owen Morris might have sent him ; but it was dismissed as quickly as it came. If Richard Howard knew anything of me and my past, he knew it Dy accident?not from any direct information which had been given him. He evidently knew something, and I fancied his intention was to obtain an influence over me, through this means, in order that I might be of service to him. He little knew me. I have always contended that the highest order of love is that which is capable of the greatest self-sacrifice. I had only acted up to my belief, and, therefore, had nothing to be ashamed of. I did not know then, that in sacrificing my own happiness, I destroyed another's. Surely, the bitterness I have endured, has been great enough to expiate my not wilful sin 1 But I could think no longer of our suffering, now that the shadow of coming evil was hovering over our i L - * J J -i ? J.. r r.n ifutu uousenoiu, unu uirutuiy J. jcii> i;uiiieu,ao u uuui sin and sorrow were near. I could only wait. In some instances suspicion does more injury than out-spoken reproof ; but in this case I tried to banish it from my heart, and judge only from facts. I bowed my head in shame and anguish, as I thought, that after all, John's wife was the "stranger" who was to bring ruin and disgrace on the Elmwood house. The day wore slowly away. Harry and Mary did not return until sometime after we had dined. In the evening, when the family were assembled again, John asked when Mr. Howard would be over. "He is not coming," said Harry. "Not coming!" exclaimed John. "I certainly understood him to say he v>'ould pay us j a visit." "Yes, I thought so, too; but just before we j left, he came to me and said he would be obliged to return home, and requested me to j present his apologies to yourself and your sisters. I saw very littleof him, he was so much J occupied in talking over old times with Mary, i Perhaps she can enlighten us farther on the i subject." As Harry said this, Mary, who was sitting j ! near John, placed her hand on his shoulder, | | and then rested her head on it. I could not: j tell whether it was done to conceal her counte-1 ! nance while answering the question, or only to i ! draw nearer the loved presence, which is so j I natural when we feel that evil influences are j i arouud us. She did Dot reply immediately, | but when she did, it was only to say, in an indifferent manner? "He said he had received letters from Waverly, which made it necessary for him to re- i turn." "Are you tired, darling?" I heard John; | whisper, a few moments after. "Yes, so tired," said Mary with a sigh. Just as a little child would have done, j "Your ride was too much for you. Anoth- j er time I will not let you go without me. j Then I can see that you do not over-fatigue , yourself." "Yes, I am always well and strong when ! vnn nrp with The fair young face was still resting on ' John's shoulder, and I saw her put her tiny hand in his. Nothing more was Baid. I turned away with a feeling of relief, j There could be uo sin dwelling in a heart. which was filled with such trusting love as! that. CHAPTER VIII. We found Harry's presence a great addition to our family circle. Nellie and himself were constantly joking, and though my mind was oppressed with sad and anxious thoughts,i it was impossible not to enjoy their fun. Miss Nancy Turner was a never-ending source of amusement. She admired Harry excessively, and in accordance with her general rule of conduct, took no pains to conceal it. On one occasion she expressed surprise at his not being married, and insisted upon kuowing the cause. "I had an unfortunate love affair in early | youth, Miss Nancy," was his reply. "I thought it was somethiug of that kind," j she exclaimed. "The first time I ever saw you, I said you had a dubious expression of j | countenance. I can sympathize with you, for I, too, know what it is to 'let concealment like a worm, feed on the bud of my damask cheek,' as Byron says." "Then it is true, that you have lost your heart, Miss Nancy ?" said Nellie, gravely.! i "I heard it some days since, but could not be- i lieve it." < "Why, who could have tol^ you, Nellie? I have never said a word about it to any one." i "Perhaps not; but we all see how ruuch you admire Mr. Howard." "Mr.. Howard I You must be deranged, child. I cannot bear hira; besides, he is I courting Henrietta Lewis, now." i "Then who is it ? tell us. Mr. Wor- : thington can keep a secret, so you need not fear his mentioning it." "If Aedoes not know who it is, Nellie, it is not my place to tell him." Here she gave a most bewitching and coquettish glance at1 Harry. It was imnossible not to smile at her man Der; and, in order to prevent an outburst of laughter, I quickly changed the subject. It was during that afternoon that Nellie seated herself near me, saying? "Mattie, what do you think of that love affair of Mr. Worthington's?" "I have not thought of it at all, Nellie. I supposed, of course, that he was joking; but why do you ask ?" "Nothing?only?I believe?it is true." Her hesitating manner made me look at her in surprise. She colored, on catching my eye, aud said? "The fact is, Mattie, he has told me all about it, and has asked for my advice." "Well, did you give it?" "No, for I wished to hear your opinion first." "But, perhaps, he will object to my knowing of it." "I told him I was going to tell you. He met with a young lady some time ago, and after having known her only a few months, he fancied himself desperately in love with her, and told her so." "And what was her answer?" "She treated the whole matter as a joke, and would not believe in his sudden devotion." , "Then I do not see any occasion for his asking your advice. It seems to me the matter is settled." "No, for he has taken it into his head that the lady is in love with him. Did you ever t* ??m oa okaiir/1 9'* JLiCtVi auj HJIU^ OU UUOU1U i As Nellie said this, she threw herself on her knees before me, and buried her face in my lap. We were silent for a moment, and then the truth flashed upon me. I placed my hand, carressingly, on the fair hair, and said? "Tell me all about it, darling?" "Oh ! Mattie, have you guessed it? What a tell-tale face I must have. I did not intend you to know it for ever so long. But what must I do, dearie ?" She raised her flushed face to mine as she spoke, and kissing her I said? "Do what your own heart prompts, Nellie. I cannot believe that my little sister would trifle with the affections of any man; particularly, such a man as Harry Worthington." "Then you like him ? I think he is rather pleasant myself; but, Mattie, you know I never was a believer in 'sudden conversions,' and Harry has only known me three months." "But it was not a conversion on his part, Nellie. He had not to alter or give up an opinion?he only formed one. I believe if Harry has told you that he loves you, he does OA tuitk kio wlifklp kpnrt. jinfl soul, and VOU ought to decide at once as regards your own feelings, and not keep hira in suspense." "Now, Mattie, please don't talk proper to me. Of course I ought to do ever so many things that I don't do ; but I am not going to be hurried into matrimony, just because a certain gentleman cannot be kept in suspense. I suppose if I am worth having, 1'in worth waiting for." "Oh ! Nellie, don't speak so jestingly of such a serious subject. You do not realize bow much depends on your answer." "Yes, I do, indeed. I know if I say 'no,' there will probably be two Miss Nancy Turners, instead of one, iu this neighborhood; I being the feeble imitator of that illustrious personage." "And if you say 'yes,' Nellie ?" "She hesitated a moment, and then said? "I suppose I'll end my days as 'old Mrs. Worthington.'" As she called the name, her face was covered with blushes; but she quickly recovered herself and added? "I never could make a decent W, in my life, and I really do not think I can stand being obliged to make one, whenever I sign my name in future. But then when I see Miss Nancy, I?" "When are you going to give Harry his answer ?" I asked, interrupting her. "Oh! some time between this and Christmas. You see I wish to take down his vanity a little. The idea of his supposing that I am in love with him!" "And are you not, Nellie?" I raised her head as I spoke, and looked earnestly into her face. "Must I tell you the truth, Mattie?" "Yes." "Well, I think I am." "But this won't do. There can be no doubt on such a subject as this. If you only think so, I advise you to tell Harry at once that you can not marry him; for if you really loved him there could not be a moment's doubt on your mind." "And may I ask, do you speak from experience or observation ?" "From sad experience, my darling. Don't let your future happiness be marred as mine has been, for want of the expression of a love with which your heart is filled. I know you you love Harry." She threw her arras around me and burst into tears. I knew not whether they were for her or myself; but I caught the whispered 1 words, "yes, I love him," and I was satisfied. i CHAPTER IX. , Six months have elapsed, and in spite of 1 Nellie's aversion to the letter "W," she is soon to become Mrs. Worthington. It was a ! 1 great trial to me to give up my darling sister , 1 to any one; but I had no right to be selfish, 1 and though it seemed as if the last ray of 1 sunshine was being taken from my life, I 1 could not murmur, for I knew she would be 1 happy. 1 And for me, it was only to wander a little 1 longer aloue in the twilight, before the dawn j 1 of the never-euding day of eternity. < Harry and Nellie were to go to their farm, 1 "Clifton," immediately after their marriage. 1 It was situated near his father's, and they in sistcd that John and Mary should accompany them. They asked me to join the party ; but, of course, that was impossible. I was obliged to remain with aunt Patsy, and on this occasion, the path of duty was, by far, the most pleasant to me. We had a very quiet wedding?only the immediate friends of the family being present. : Nellie was not much changed by the responsibilities of her new position, and she kept the ! same happy smile on her face to the last, i When she went to take leave of aunt Patsy ! and receive her blessing, the old lady was almost overcome by her emotion. "Ah ! child, how I shall miss your bright sunny face," said she, with the tears stream ing down her cheeks. "But, aunty, you know I am not going to be away all ray life. I am comiDg home every six months. Harry says that I may." "And if you don't look out, Harry will say that you may not. I know all about young husbands', though I never had either old or young myself. They don't believe in their wives going back to their old homes. I shall never see you again, child." "I shall think you do not like Harry, if you speak in this way, aunty. You don't think he is the stranger who is to bring ruin and disgrace on the family, do you ?" "Hush! child ; you must not jest about that. God forbid that your husband should verify the old prophecy. He is a fine young man, and I like him very much; and you may take my word for it, he's going to make you behave yourself. But I see he is waiting?so tell me good-bye." The house was desolate, and lonely beyond expression, after they all left. I tried to be very busy, and in that way keep down troubled and anxious thoughts. John was only to be absent a few days, and intended returning for Mary in a month or two. Her health had not been good, and we believed the change would benefit her. I rather enjoyed the idea of having John all to myself again, and I have fVinnrrkf uinna if if Vm/1 nnt hpfin fnr those weeks of quiet interchange of confidence and sympathy, that he could not have come to me as he did afterward. On his return home, he mentioned a large dinner which had been given the bride by Mr. Richard Howard. "Mary did not seem to care about going at first," he said ; "but I was very glad afterwards that she did go. You have no idea, Mattie, how lovely she looked that day." "I can well imagine it, John. I have always thought her very pretty; but was she looking stronger and better when you left ?" "Yes ; that is, she had more color, though I didn't think she was quite as bright and cheerful as she was at home." "You know it is the first time she has been separated from you since her marriage. Perhaps it was that thought which made her appear more quiet." "It may have been. I wish she was with us again." In my heart, I echoed that sentiment most fervently, but I said nothing. It was not want of trust in Mary, so far as her affection for John was concerned. I knew that she loved him devotedly now, but it was plain that Richard Howard had acquired some mysterious influence over her, and that he intended to use that influence to the detriment of Mary's happiness, was equally evident. I was seated one evening, reading aloud, to aunt Patsy, when a servant announced Miss Nancy Turner. I put down my book with a sigh, for I knew before that interview was over, I was to hear all the gossip of the neighborhood, embellished by the not very amiable remarks of this talkative spinster. However, with the fervent hope thatshe would leave the household of Elmwood alone, and confine herself to her particular friends, I proceeded to meet my visitor. Her first words were? "Well, Mattie, I suppose yours will be the next wedding at Elmwood. But, pray child, don't have it a secret one; every one is talking about the sly way in which you good people manage such things." "I am sorry 'every ODe' has not a more profitablesubject of conversation, Miss Nancy. I can assure you it is a matter of perfect indifference to us what is said about the weddings in this family. We generally arrange them to suit ourselves, and, so far, I flatter myself, have succeeded admirably." "I'm glad you are satisfied. 'None so blind as those who won't see,' you know; but I should think John's wife might tell a different story." I could not help smiling when I heard this. It seemed so absurd that John and Mary should not be happy?loving each other, as I knew they did. Before I could say anything, Miss Nancy having observed the expression of my countenance, said? "You would not smile in that way, JVlattie, if you had heard all that /have heard about her." "As it would be impossible for any one to make me believe that Mary is not happy as John's wife, I prefer not hearing anything more." I then added, by way of changing the subject, "Have you seen Henrietta Lewis lately?" "Yes, I have just come from there?in fact, J it was Henrietta who told me all I have heard." The idea occurred to me, if the information came from that source, perhapfl it would be best for me to hear it. After knowing Miss | Nan/in'a aiiMirtritv there seemed a crreater i " ........ J, 0 probability of putting an end to the gossip. 11 said? "What is it you have heard, Miss Nancy? It seems to annoy you so much, that it will afford me pleasure to convince you it is false." "I don't see how you can do that, Mattie, for Heurietta says she saw Mary herself, that day, and it was very evident that she and her cousin Richard were still very much in love with ea h other. You know they were en-1 gaged to be married when she married John. But let me go on with my story." (in more senses than one I thought.) "You see, as 3oou as Mary heard that her cousin was staying at Henrietta's, she went directly over there. She took her brother with her, in order that he might talk to the ladies of the family, while she had Mr. Howard all to herself. They went out on the lawn together soon after she got there, and there they sat under one of the trees until dinner. Henrietta says she could see they were both very much excited, and when Mary came in, she was as white as a ghost, and looked as if she was going to cry every minute; and Mr. Howard was as angry as he could be. Mr. Worthington did not seem to notice what was going on, and Henrietta says she does feel so sorry for him? she knows it will distress him so much, wnen he finds it out." Miss Nancy having paused for breath?I don't think any other consideration would have stopped her?I took advantage of it to say? * "What a talent for romance Henrietta has! The idea of making a love story out of the meeting of two old friends, just because they were talking together for an hour or two! It was scarcely worth repeating, Miss Nanoy; | but as it has given us a proof of Henrietta's and your friendship, I am very glad to have heard it. You seldom meet with old friends, who are as ready to believe evil of those for whom they profess friendship ; and I can assure you it will never be forgotten. Will you be kind enough to inform Henrietta that, perhaps, it would be as well for her, in the future, to confine herself to facts, and not draw on her imagination in order to slander her friends." "Oh! you need not get so angry about it, Mattie. We both meant it for kindness. I came right to you as soon as I heard it, so that you might tell me the truth. I am very glad to hear it is not so. I shall certainly tell Henrietta all you have said," and with these words, she left the room. [to be continued next week.] Ipmllwwint* finding. | BURR AND MADAME JUMEL. A New York letter says: Most of your readers have noticed the "Madame Jumel case" which has been in litigation so long in the United States Courts. But many of them may not be aware that this Madame Jumel I ? n* A ornn Mnrr Sho WHS at UUC blIUO bug ITHV VI ?#? ? -jmv became his wife in s very extraordinary way. After his return from Europe in his old age, a disgraced and dreaded man, Madame Jumel, then perhaps fifty years of age, called at the office on Nassau street in great style for those days, with her carriage and liveried servants, to consult him, as the best authority in New York, concerning her real estate, which was very extensive. Burr treated her with courtesy, of which he was a perfect master, and plied to bis utmost his arts of compliment and flattery, through which he had snared so many victims. Madame Jumel, according to the customs of the times, had been very superficially educated, and was the more easily duped by such a man as Burr. She was accompanied by her nephew, in whose interest Burr at once manifested the most lively concern. The two were flattered aDd fascinated. After a few weeks Burr, though then nearly or quite eighty years of age, made a proposal of marriage to the wealthy widow. He was refused. He manifested none of the mortifications of a jilted swain, but went on with his suit as if nothing had happened. Madame Jumel was astonished and bewildered at such love making. At last he drove up to her door one fine morning, bringing a clergyman with him and declared that he bad come to be married. Madame was directed to prepare herself without any unnecessary delay at the toilet, and, fairly overborne by mingled courtesies and commands, she at last stood up by the side of her ancient beau and spoke the fatal words, while every door and window was crowded with the faces of the wondering household servants. Burr thus became master of an immense amount of property, with a lady thrown in. They started at once on a wedding trip to Hartford, Connecticut Madame was the owner of several shares in a bridge, which was then regarded a wonderful investment. The stock was in great demand. Burr persuaded her to sell it, and when the proceeds were brought to her she said, with true wifely submission : "Give it to my husband!" The tradition is that Burr stuffed the bulky package of bills into his pocket and sewed them in, or got his wife to. On his return to New York he coolly deposited the money to his own account in the bank, and soon after invested it in the locali ty of his early dreams of treason and conquest?the Southwest. Of course the money was never heard of again. He disposed of large sums subsequently in the same manner, till at last Madame Jumel, to save the remainder of her fortune, was compelled to sue for a divorce on the ground of infidelity. narrow-gauge* railroads. The great favor narrow-gauge railroads have met with in all parts of the country is a proof of their adaptability to present requirements. More particularly have they been approved in the West, and at no distant day will be built for all local purposes. We copy from the St. Louis Globe, the following statement which will show what has been done in narrow-gauges: ' St. Louis county railway, constructing, 52 miles in length. < . Cairo and St. Louis, 150 miles in length, and forty miles of iron laid. Kansas Central, 400miles in length; 70 in operation. Big Sandy Valley, Kentucky; 156 miles in length. Work commenced. Denver and Rio Grande; length, 800 miles. TCnw in nnpratinn 1 00 miles. Bell's Gap, Pa., 17 miles built; 60 miles graded. Pittsburg and Castle Shannon, completed. Ceredo, West Virginia; 30 miles in length; 12 miles finished. Galeua and South Wisconsin, partly under contract. Iowa Eastern, 180 miles. Work progressI ing. Louisville and Westport, Kentucky; work I progressing. Length, 25 miles. Mississippi City and Memphis, 25 miles finished. Length, 300 miles ; work progressing. North and South Georgia, will soon have finished 65 miles. Painesvilleand Youngstown,Ohio. Length, 42 miles; 20 miles now in operation. tv, i \T_ii oc ;i L tan iNortnern; lu iimes iu upuituuu. Utah Southern, 400 miles in length; 35 miles completed. Utah, Idaho and Montana, 50 miles under j contract. A narrow-gauge road is talked of from San Jos6 to Alvison. Peachbottom, Penn; 50 miles; in course of construction. Norfolk and Western Virginia, surveyed and progressing; length, 360 miles. Besides the above, says QrojuWs Western World, are a number of short lines, finished or progressing, in different parts of the country. In Canada, the Toronto, Bruce and Grey has proven very successful. At the South, a large number of miles is projected, which will connect with the Cairo and St. Louis. A line of three-feet gauge is also projected from St. Louis to the Atlantic seaboard, and the eastern end of the line is being vigorously pushed forward; and the St. Louis and Western Railway is rapidly assuming shape, and will form a link in the chain of roads from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean. This statement does not include any of the narrowgauge projects on the southern coast, some of which will, without doubt, be speedily commenced and energetically pushed. A Jeai.ou8 Husband Cured with Liquorice-Water.?There is a man in this city who is so affectionately fond of his wife that he is jealous if a man looks within forty live uegreeaui me uiuv<uuu iu j happen to be. The other day a gentleman spoke to her, and he immediately threatened suicide. His wife was dispatched for a bottle of poison, which she had put up at the druggist's, consisting of a little water, colored with liquorice, in a bottle with a glaring poison label outside. When he threatened to take some of it, and actually poured it into a wineglass, she screamed for help aod ran into another room, where she could watch him through the key hole, and saw him coolly open the window and throw it out She then rushed back apparently frantic with grief and implored him not to do the rash deed. He ; merely pointed at the glass, and lying down on the floor, began to kicjc out his legs like a jumping jack, She told him she was determined to share his fate, and swallowed the rest of the liquorice-water, whereupon he be "? ? 4-Ua nalKnrc came reaiiy inguteuou, uunug tuc uw6uW,w, confessed that he only Cammed, and said that if she only survived he never would trouble her again. Then she explained the ruse, and he was so mortified he tried to buy up the silence of the neighbors, but the story was too good to keep. He is thoroughly cured. TiiusviUorira.) Harold. THE BORROWING NUISANCE. A correspondent of the Northwestern Farmer, whose righteous indignation has been aroused by those intolerable pests, unscrupulous borrowers, writes to that paper as follows: "My neighbor wanted to borrow my shovel? would return it in the evening. Evening came, but no shdv^l!; The next evening it was quietly returned to its accustomed hook in the wood house, the blade covered over one-half its surface with a coating of dry mortar. I pride myself on my clean and bright shovels and hoes. Half an hour's work with an old knife blade, and the use of a sheet of sand paper, restored it "Another time he was building a pig pen. The posts were too long, and his saw very dull. Of course he borrowed mine, and''be sawed off a nail with it?the posts had been used before. He sent his little boy to return the saw with the message: 'Pa would 'a sent it and got it filed, but he knowed you alius filed your own saw, and it wouldn't take but a few minutes to sharp it again.' "Another neighbor 'borrowed' the privilege of getting water at my well. The well is deep, and we draw with a windlass. It is hard for ray wife to draw up a bucketful, for she is feeble, and to save her, I usually fill the bucket before going away to my business. As the well is in an out kitchen, I leave the filled bucket hanging in the curb. My neighbor sneaks in, empties' the bucket, and is mean enough to go away without refilling it. Wife and I conclude it is better to suffers wrong than have a difficulty with anear neighbor, and so, for the sake of peace, we submit to this wear and tear of soul and body. When the same person borrows flour, for the best article a poor one is returned. Eggs, matches, 'a drawin' o' tea,' are never returned. "T mirrVit innrOQdo tn orrAftf-. lanorth a TfiOOfd vy ? - ----0 ? of these examples, but my object is only to illustrate the position taken that the habitual borrower's code is a lax one,. This may be partially accounted for by. th? fact that, the independent, self-reliant portion: of the community seldom borrow, and the practice is mostly left to people of the opposite kind. "Among honest men, borrowing may be ( made a convenience, and mutually beneficial. Yet, I think, the question is worth considering, whether it does pot demoralize a manweaken his self-reliance. We get to relying 90 our neighbors more and. more, for the things we ourselves ought to procure. On the whole, my advice is to borrow only in case of great need, when you cannot get along without doing so." ? -? What an Engineer Did with a Man who Disarranged a Railroad Track.? The following story may be a true one; more like it is false, but it is given as it was detailed, and it may be that some one still living may remember the circumstances and write the tale. Some years ago there was a wellknown engineer, whose name is not given, for good and sufficient reasons, who ran a passenger train on one of the most popular and most traveled roads that run out of Indianapolis. At a certain place on the road, every night for about a week, as the passenger train run by this engineer cAme thundering along, it was certain to be thrown from the track by obstructions placed there. Several of these mishaps to the train caused, loss of life, and the company was becoming considerably alarmed, and the ability of the engineer was being seriously questioned. One night, as the unfortunate train was "hearing the fatal spot, the engineer, who had'been sitting glum and silent at the throttle, turned to his fireman and said: 'If this train jumps the track at that place to-night, you follow me; don't stop for anything, but keep close after me. Somebody has been throwing this train off the track, and I'm {*oing to catch him." When the tram arrived at the usual nlace it struck a misplaced rail and "was banked. The engineer, closely followed by the fireman, jumped from the engine and ran into a cornfield and started up a man who lay concealed there. Upon bringing the culprit back the enraged passengers wanted to lynch him, but the engineer, a stern, cold, determined man, prevented them, saying that they would take charge of him, and through the intercession of the conductor, the trembling wretch was left in charge of the engineer.- The train was righted, and was soon speeding on its way. The prisoner, who had confessed his fiendishness, had been seated on the engine, and the fireman placed beside him as a guard. When the train was on a smooth piece of track, bowling along at a speed of twenty-five miles an hour, the engineer beckoned the fireman to stand out of the way. The fireman stepped aside, and the engineer picked up a round piece of wood and struck him such a blow upon the head that it stunned him. He then caught the quivering form of the poor wretch, and opening the furnace doors, threw his body into the hot, seething hell of flame. The doors were shut, the train rolled on, and never, until upon his death-bed the engineer confessed the act, was it ascertained what had ' been the fate of the fiend who had been in the habit of throwing the train off the track?Indianapolis Sentinel. A Dinner Excuse.?Apologies for poor dinners are generally out of place. But when a lady has a forgetful husband, who, without warning, brings borne a dozen guests to sit down to a plain, family dinner for three or four, it is not in human nature to keep perfect silence. What to say and how to say it form the problem. Mrs. Tucker, the wife of Judge Tucker, solved this problem many years ago. She was celebrated for her beauty, wit, ease and grace of manner. Her temper and tact were put to the proof one court day, when the judge brought with him the accustomed half score or more of lawyers, for whom not the slightest preparation had been made, the judge having quite forgotten to remind his wife that it was court week, and she herself, strange to tell, having overlooked the fact. The dinner was served with elegance, and Mrs. Tucker made herself very charming. Upon arising to leave the guests to their wine, she said: "Gentlemen, you have dined to-day with Judge Tucker; promise me now that you will dine to-morrow with me." This was all her apology, whereupon the gentlemen swore that such a wife was beyond price. The judge then explained the situation, and next day there was a noble banquet. Moral: Never worry a guest with apologies.