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lewis m. grist, proprietor, j |nbepcnknf Jfamilg ^tttosjraper: Jfor tjjc promotion: of t|e political, Social, jlgricnltural anb Commercial Interests of % jJoitfjj. terms?$3.00 a year, is advance. VOL. 21. YOEKYILLE, S. O., THURSDAY, JUNE 8, 1875. N"Q1 * r j:_ jVtt ?riginal jiteg. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. - - - THE SEVEN SISTERS OF YORK CHAPTER I. Some two-score years ago, there was Dot prettier or more comfortable residence to t found in South Carolina than the house a Brierly Farm, in the district of York. It wa the property of an English gentleman of th name of Vaughan, who had removed thei soon after his arrival iu America, and settle down into a quiet, unostentatious, yet hosp table mode of life, winning the friendship an esteem of those around him, among whom h soon became a geueral favorite. He had nc been many months in this part of the work when he fell in love with the daughter of a aeed clerevman residiner in the neiehborhooc She reciprocated, and after a brief engagf meut they were married. Mary Ellis was pretty, modest, unaffected young woman, i rather delicate health, who was accustomed t all the indulgence which the most devote affectiou could lavish upon her. Nor was thi indulgence lessened when she became th wife of Mr. Vaughau, who idolized her, an strove to render her home as much of a earthly paradise as it was practicable t make it. The result of this union wa$ a large famil of daughters?seven in number?but, to thei i great disappointment, no sou. When th first little girl made her appearance, she wa hailed with delight by both parents, wh christened her Edmonia, in honor of the Re\ Edmund Ellis, her maternal grandfathei Four years elapsed before the adveut of th next, who was as warmly welcomed, and o whom was bestowed the appellation of Don thea. The third, a year later, was receive' with equal tenderness, yet, it must be confess ed, not without a tinge of disappointment a her sex. Mrs. Vaughan, who possessed a far ciful mind, chose to name this one Virgilia? to which the father objected, because, as h said, it was in no way capable of a pet dimin utive, unless they should call her Gillyflowei Then when a pair of twins came, Mrs. Vaugha nearly wept?for alas ! they were also girls By way of a contrast to the fine-sounding ap pellations of their sisters, their father insiste* on having them christened Mary and Marths names which speedily became curtailed int< May and Mattie as they grew older. Th sixth child came?a girl agaiu, but < so beau tiful and winning that none but hard heart could have closed themselves against her; th dark-eyed, laughing, frolicsome Jeaunett( Last of all, a delicate blossom was born t them, seemingly too frail to endure even th tempered winds that breathed around he cradle ; but in spite of this feebleness of earl; infancy, she grew and throve, and the littl Claribel became the pet and darling and chei ished plaything of the household. Clarihel Vaughau! Lovely, gentle Clari bel! How vividly do I recall her fair, pur face, with its deep blue eyes and diraplin, smiles, and angelic serenity of brow; he slight form, as graceful as the willow bendiu over the brook ; her low-toned voice, breath ing music as soft as the whispers of an iEi lian harp, responding to the wooing of th summer wind. Gray-haired bachelor thoug I am, my pulses still quicken at the ruemor of the touch of her slender hand, and th smiles that beamed ou me from her innocen eyes; and as her image rises before me, I foi get the. lapse of time, and crossing, by an in visibly agency, the bridge that spans the gul of by-gone years, I stand once more iu he presence, in the old church-porch, or in th shadow of the waving trees, or walk besid her through flower-scented lanes, lost in ? golden elysiura of happiness and love. Tone long silent, echo musically in my ears; glance long quenched, shed their sparkling suuligl on my heart; joyous hopes, fond desires, eage aspirations, crowd upon me, as of yore?an then the fleeting picture fades away, and sigh as the cold gray curtain of reality drof before it, and chide myself for the folly c my dream. However, 'tis not a romance of ray ow youth of which I am writing. I only wo cliinnpfl mv fiivinitvin senret. and never coul t'L '"J J ? discover whether she took any special note < the incense I offered at her shrine. She wi alike gentle and gracious to all, sheddin around her the odor of loving kindness, i naturally as a blossom scatters perfume o the air, or the skies drop dew upon the thirsl earth. When Clarihel was eight years old, h< mother died; aud Edmonia, then just twent; assumed the control of the household, mini tering to her father's comfort, and exercisin a general supervision over her sisters, direc ing the education of the younger ones, an taking especially into her charge the littl Claribel, whom she loved with a passional fondness, and who, from the difference in the ages, seemed thenceforth to occupy the pos tion of her daughter, rather than that of sister. Not long after his wife's death, M Yaughan fell into feeble health, thus addin a fresh care to the burden of responsibilit which rested on Edmonia's shoulders. It wi fortunate that her methodical habits, unflaj ging energy, and quick, self-contained disp< sition, fitted her admirably for the positic she was called upon to fill, and divested it < many of the difficulties she would otherwii have had to encounter. Dorothea, a mil good-tempered, indolent girl, would have su cumbed hopelessly under a similar task; an Ytrgilia, who was or a literary turn anu a ways buried in her books, possessed neith< the inclination nor the capacity for such calling. The Vaughan house, as it was popular! called, was a large, roomy edifice, paint? white, and tastefully set in the centre of group of magnificent oaks, which waved the protecting arras above it as if to shelter it froi wind and storm. There was no fence near i but the open space around was dotted wit parterres of bright flowers, which it was tl girls' pleasure to tend. In the front pore! in warm weather, Mr. Vaughan would coi stantly sit in his invalid chair, enjoying tl picturesque prospect, of which his house con raanded an extensive view, or watching wit pleasure his elder daughters busy among the floral pets, and the younger ones sporting c the lawn. Jcannette and Claribel, insepar hie companions, made the prettiest pictui imaginable when at play together. The or so bright and glowing, full of redundant lif wild and careless as a wood-sprite in ever pose of her light figure, every note of lu ! ringing laugh. The other so fair, dainty and [ t ! quiet, timid and noiseless in her movements, I cl - i clinging with a loving trust and reliance to j hi the elder, who delighted in acting as her pro- j b tectress and guide. Nothing could exceed ! F the mutual affection that existed between | u these two; and if Edmonia cherished one |p: jealous feeling in her heart, it sprang from the ' di thought that Claribel loved her less than she iv ^ did Jeannette. i e? ; At length Mr. Vaughan's illness, which tl 18 had been gradually encroaching upon his; yi 1 j constitution, suddenly assumed a more critical tc j form ; and in a few days from the time of his ol . conhneraent to his bed, he bade adieu to earth- p] ' | ly scenes, leaving his large family without a ' ty protector, and with no near relatives on whom ri 1 i to depend, though, fortunately, with a com-1 w fortable provision for their support. His al ' death, though keenly sorrowed for by them oi i all, made little or no external difference in . fe the arrangement of their household, of which w '* i he had so long been a passive member ; and hi a t Edmonia continued, as before, to discharge ; hi Q ; her duties with steady perseverance, and a F O I .1 ? ' -J 1 J 1 1 ... mougnuuiness anu capaoimy uejuuu uci ce . i years. se 13 j Thus the lives of the inmates of Brierly ai ^ | Farm continued to glide tranquilly onward, : b< ! unrufHed, for the space of some years, by any j ce j noteworthy occurrence; until at last certain ! ti< 0 . events took place which broke upon this j w j placid routine, and materially changed the j w y I prospects and affected the welfare of more ; m r | than one member of the family circle whose ! fu e i interests it concerned. i tv 3 I 0 ! ! in M CHAPTER II. ! th r* I It was eight o'clock on a pleasant summer j h< e ! morning, and the table was spread in the si< 11 i breakfast-room, presenting, with its snowy i ev y damask and service of dainty china, an invi-1 ti< ^ ting aspect to the view. Cyrus, the sable but- j w, '* ler and factotum of the establishment, had just i ar brought in a tray loaded with hot rolls, crisp 1 tv '* batter-cakes, newly-laid eggs, and various bi delicate appendages too numerous to men-j ev e j tion ; and was in the act of arranging its con '* ' tents with great precision and nicety ou the Ci * j table, when Miss Vaughan entered, attired in ar n a fresh white dress, with a rose in her brooch,! in * i and a basket of house-keeping keys in her j ch ~ | hand. j d( j It was a somewhat remarkable circumstance i pi k' j that Edmonia, notwithstanding the seclusion j sa 3 ! of the life she led, and the variety of occupa-! pc e ! tions which engrossed her time, was never \ fr * ! known, by any chance, to appear otherwise n< 3 ; than daintily dressed. Nothing offended her or e | taste mote than a crumpled frill, or a gar- he " J raent put on awry; and from the crowning w 0 braid of her glossy hair to the tip of her small ze e slipper with its satin rosette, she was always ! m r the perfection of neatness, elegance and grace, j ^ She was now nearly thirty-one years old, : a8 e looking younger than that in face and figure, : st * | but beariug the full weight of her age in her ! ?] I somewhat authoritative manner, and the staid ; sl, l* | and settled composure of her movements. ge e | "Breakfast is six minutes late, Cyrus," she |1( ? ' remarked, as she consulted her watch. "You ' v, r remember, I warned you that the clock was j g | slow." j 0f l* I "Dat's so, Miss Edna ; but Daphne got be- j y( hind hand, some how. I hurried her all I I p( Ck ? ? j * & could. ^ "I hope those muffins are thoroughly done." 0 y "Oh ! yes, ma'am, nicely dun." in 0 "You can make the toast, at once, then," and taking up a small silver bell that stood er on the table, Edraonia rang a pretty sharp al l" peal on it, in token that her sisters' presence dj was desired at the morning board. The sum- bi :r mons not being immediately answered, 9he sat bi e ; down in the post of honor, aud composedly aj e made the tea. y< a | Directly, the sound of laughing voices iu ;3 the hall was heard, and Jeannette and the j 1 twins made their appearance together. sv: ] "Where isClarie?" asked the elder sister, j n, 5r when she had returned their morning saluta- j D( ^ i tion. in 1 ; "She'll be down in a minute or two," re)S plied Jeaunette. "What's the matter, Edna? t? ^ , Is anything wrong about me, that you stare gj at me so?" n "My dear Jennie, I never stare," rejoined ^ r* Edna. "I was scrutinizing your collar?" j J "Oh ! scrutizing, I beg your pardon. Well, j; 3* does your scrutiny discover anything amiss ?" iS "It discovers that you have forgotten your ( 's brooch, 1 think. ls "No, my dear, it doesn't; I left it off be- ; ,n cause the pin was broken ; and I couldn't find J a respectable bow." ^ "Do you own but one brooch, Jennie?" , m jr "La! no; I own half a dozen, more or less; J p, j but it was too much trouble to hunt them up. i ^ s- Give me some tea, Edna, please." g With a gentle sigh Edna granted the re-! u, t- quest, feeling that Jennie's carelessness was , ' d incorrigible, and that it would be a waste of, Sl le time to offer farther remonstrance. While; ^e the latter was sipping her tea iu happy indif- ' b ir ference on the subject, Dorothea came leisure- j ^ i-, ly in, attired in a negligee wrapper of pale ' a pink calico, with her abundant flaxen hair I r. j carelessly twisted into a knot at the back of ^ ig j her head. j iy "Good morning, Edna; how very warm it ! is is, isn't it?" j a' g-1 "My dear Dolly !" ! o- "What's the matter ?" asked Dorothea, st >n : opening wide her light blue eyes at her sister's G of reproachful look and tone. ^ 9e "I should be ashamed to appear in that ^ d, style eveu before the servants," murmured e: c- Edmonia, glancing toward Gyrus, who was S1 id busy with the toast. -l-i "Oh! would you ? Well, I can't help it; j sr 1 it's so warm. Besides, I did not wake in j a time." j ^ "It seems impossible for us all to get assem ly bled this morning," said Edmouia. "How I j id do dislike unpunctuality." a 1 "So do I?in other people," said Dorothea, j hi ir i "If you were uopunctual, for instance, every-1 in j thing would most likely go wrong." t, "And suppose I were not here?" d' ;h ! "I don't know what we should do, I'm ie sure," said Dolly, languidly. ! d' h, i "I would take Edna's place," said Jeau- j n-! nette. know how to sit at the head of the J? ie table and pour out the tea, and give orders, j *>; a- Clarie and I mean to keep house together, 1 :h when Edna gets married." !11 ir , "I am afraid you will have to wait a long w >u time for the execution of your plans," said a- Edmonia, smiling. re "Oh ! I don't despair of you yet," said Jen- S( ie | nie, saucily. "Better late than never, you i e, i know." i 1 y \rirgilia's entrance at this juncture preelu- p ir i ded the necessity of a reply, and directly af- i hi jr, Claribel came in, making the family cir-11 e complete. A fairer circle it would not 11 ave been easy to find, assembled around any reakfast-table in Carolina, that morning, j ( irst, entrenched behind the massive silver j? rn, Edmonia, of the serene brow and stately j resence, dark-eyed, silken haired, a gentle t ivinity most fitted to preside; more attracte, perhaps, in her maturity than when, in j irlier days, she might have seemed to lack ] le fire and impulse that give a charm to J [ DUth, and wrapped the mantle of her dignity 11 10 carefully about her. At the opposite end i f ' the table, sat Dorothea, large, lazy and ; t [acid, a beauty of the purest Anglo-Saxon i i rpe, with a complexion like a baby's, in pu-i i tv and fairness?though how she kept it so ( as a marvel, for she never took any trouble I j Dout anything, and went out as often with-! 1 it a bonnet as with one. Dorothea's hands, j e et and eyelashes were perfect; owing to (i hich circumstances, she had acquired a, ibit of sitting with her cheek resting on her ; i xnd, and her eyelids drooped?so that a : t reuch gentleman once remarked, "MonDieu, j lie madevxoiselle Dorothfe ne semploit qu '? \ /aire admirea." At her right sat Virgilia, id a more complete contrast than existed ! I itween the two it would be difficult to con-1 ] live. Virgilia, who had earned the reputa-; a Dn of being somewhat of a blue, and who ! as, in fact, really clever and well-informed, j 1 as a slender brunette, quick and restless in ovement, with aquiline features and watch- i 1 dark eyes. A strong likeness existed bereen Edmonia, Jeannette and herself, differ- c it characteristics, however, predominating r the physiognomy of each. Jeannette was e ie most attractive, owing to the brilliancy of i ;r smile and the varied play of her expres- 1 an, which reflected" with charming candor rery emotion of her mind. Mary and Mat- s 2 so exactly resembled each other, that it as infinitely puzzling to a stranger, or even y. l ordiuary acquaintance, to distinguish befeen them ; they were neither dark nor fair, t it had clear complexions and pretty, brown res, and generally excited the comment, ; I iVhat nice, lady-like, sweet-mannered girls." e laribel was the most beautiful of the band, i .j : c : j i t iu gave jjiuujise uj eveu lueieaocu iuycuhcoo the future. Dolly's somewhat overblown larras were reproduced in her with exquisite slicacy and softness ; the dainty coloring, ofuse fair hair and chiselled profile were the me, but Claribel's eyes were of the darkest jssible shade of blue, and their glances aught with a depth of earnestness and 6weet;ss that rarely awoke in Dolly's sleepy azure bs. In stature, she was of the medium :ight, slightly yet fully formed. Her voice as like music, and her step as light as the phyr that breathes' over the surface of the eadow. "I am ever so late, I am afraid," she said, i she approached her eldest sister, and beowed the customary kiss upon her forehead. don't know how it happened, but I overept myself, and it seemed as if I never would it through dressing. I always envy Jennie ir quickness, which gives her such an admtage over me." "But then you have the advantage over me * looking like the pink of propriety when )u have finished," said Jennie. "Now, ray >or collar?" "Here is a brooch I found for you," said laribel. "I will not shock Edna by revealg whereabouts I discovered it." "Under the bed, or in the washstand draw perhaps, lhank you, darling ; you are ways the good fairy, coming to ray aid in stress. As a reward, I present you with the rownest muffin in the dish; you like them rown, don't you? What are you frowning ;, Virgilia? Did you want that muffin for ourself?" "Nonsense," was Yirgilia's reply. "I forgot," said Jennie; "you are above ich sordid desires. It is food for the mind, ot the body, that you are always in quest of? 0 wonder you scorn the imputation of being iterested in the complexion of a muffin." "I do think you are old enough to leave off liking so foolishly," said Virgilia, rather lortly. "I shall never be old enough to learn wisom, I am afraid. But then, one wise woman 1 the family is enough?no, two. I beg Idua's pardon for my disrespect. Edna, did ou know that there was an unusual attracon in the neighborhood at present?" "In what shape?" asked her sister. "In the shape of a disciple of mesmerism, ho is to lecture on that science for the benet of us and the other country bumpkins to* icrrow night." ! "Mesmerism!" said Dorothea. "Surely' ou don't take any interest in that." "Anything for a novelty," said Jeannette. 1 ['11 let him mesmerize me, if he wants a lbject." ?T...l J T 1 J jLiiuceu, j auuuiu uujcut iu unit vci j swung- ^ '," said Edna, with decision. "Who is this ian, Jennie, and where is he? I have not card of him." "Some adventurer, probably," suggested orothea, "trying to impose on people's creulity." "Nothing of the kind ; I forgot to tell you bout him, last evening. Mary Carroll was iy informant; he is a Mr. Graves, a very :ientific individual, and is staying at the ' urtises, for a day or two only. I)r. Curtis ; us asked him to give a lecture, and is going ? get up an audience for him, and have some i tperimcnts. I should think it would be t reat fun. You'll go, Edna, won't you ?" f "I will think about it," replied Edmonia. i r do not usually like exhibitions of the sort." ! j "I would not take the trouble to go," said j j orothea. s "I should like it." "And I," said the twins e i concert. r "I shall go," said Virgilia, decidedly. "I j ave always wished for such an opportunity." t "And you, Clarie?" j f "Oh! yes," said Claribel; "that is, if Edna Des not mind." \ "You can follow your own inclinations, my i ear," said Edmonia. '1 "Then there will be five of us?six, if Edna 8 iins us. Dolly, you can't stay at home all t y yourself." "Yes, I can," said Dorothea." I hate go- j ig to the Curtises, the road is so rough, and 1 J eare sure to be Jate getting home. Besides, j lere is 110 moon." j c "How will Henry Curtis survive your ab- j mce?" |? Dolly raised her eyebrows, in token that j [enrv Curtis' state of mind was a matter of , c ... rofound indifference to her; but a slight \ nile which played at the same time around 11 ler lips indicated that she was not displeased 1 it the badinage. "Speak of?of an angel, and he'll appear," jried Jeannette, glancing through the window. 'I declare, Dolly, here conies your swain low, post-haste on horseback, to invite us to i he seance /" "You don't say so," exclaimed Dorothea, I oused into unwonted animation by the recol- j ectionofher loose drapery, Henry Curtis; ^5nnr fKo Inaf nprsnn in the world she desired i ~...6 ? r ^ ( o encounter in such array ; and hastily rising 1 rom her chair, she made a speedy exit from j he room, followed by Jennie's merry laugh, J n which all the others, including even Ed-! nonia, were forced to join. "Ask Mr. Curtis in, Cyrus," said the latter, j md in a minute more the new-comer, a good-1 ookiug, gentlemanly young man of twenty- j dght or nine, was ushered into the breakfast oo m. "Pardon me for disturbing you at such an nopportune hour, ladies," he said as they rose ^ o welcome him ; "but my visit has two obects, both of which I was anxious to accom-! dish without delay." "We are always happy to see you, and shall i >e delighted to have you join us now," said j 3dmonia, gracefully. "Cyrus, place a chair: it the table for Mr. Curtis." "Thanks, no. I have already breakfasted, j lours ago." "Hours ago!" echoed Jennie. "I had no j dea you practiced such commendable habits." | "Nor do I, usually; but I have a heavy! lay's work ahead of me, and had to bestir j nyself early, on that account. I am appoiutid courier-general, to invite everybody with n reach to come and listen to I'rotessoruraves j ecture to-morrow evening, at our house." "Oh ! is he a Professor ? That makes it till more interesting," said Jeannette. "All these people are Professors, you know. iTou have heard of him, then ?" "Yes, Mary Carroll told me you had a disinguished guest." "He seems to be really a clever fellow, tfy father has persuaded him to give a little ixposition of his theory, with some practical llustrations, and he has fixed upon eight P. tf. to-morrow, for the purpose. You'll all :ome, Miss Vaughan, won't you ?" "Some of us will come with pleasure, thank I rou," rejoined Edna. "We are rather too lumerous to impose ourselves, in a body, on J rour hospitality." "Oh ! pray do not think so. That cannot jossibly be the case at any time; aud this, rou know, is not an ordinary occasion. It vill be just going to a regular lecture, only n a private house. We are to have benches irranged for the audience, and all that." "Fancy the seven Miss Vaughans occupyng the front seat, all in a row," said Jennie. 'It would be an edifying spectacle." "I see only six of you here," said the young jentleman, glancing at the vacant chair at he foot of the table. "I hope Miss Dorothea s well ?" v...l T ? uoa??f I Valine MCII, UUli jL am mi uiu one uaou b I mmpleted her toilet yet," said Jennie, rais- | shievously. "She is rather a late riser." Henry Curtis was not disposed to take his Jeparture without at least a glimpse of the ibsert one ; so upon Edna's repeated invita;ion, he accepted a cup of tea "just for sociability's sake," and lingered over it so successfully as to be still engaged on it when Doro,hea, completely transformed, re-entered the ipartment. It wa9 surprising with what ceerityshe had managed to exchange her pink robe for a becoming blue muslin, and to erect i magnificent super-structure of braids upon ler head ; and it was no doubt the effect of ler rapid movements which lent such a beaming flush to her cheeks as she came forward and gave the visitor her taper hand. Then followed a renewal of the invitation for ;he next evening, and so effectually did the jentleraan plead his cause, that Dolly, notwithstanding the considerations of the long listance, the rough road, and the absence of ;he moon, gave the required promise to make me of the' Professor's audience on that occalion. "You must be very punctual," said Mr. j Jurti9 as he rose to go; "you had better come ! it seven, so as to have time to get acquainted with the Professor before-hand ; I assure you f onnsiderhim nuite a remarkable individual. " 1 Dh ! by the way, I was near forgetting a very j raportant part of my errand. I am afraid, j Miss Vaughan, you would not have forgiven i ne," and drawing a letter from his pocket he \ aid it before Edmonia. "This was brought i ,o us last evening, by mistake, with our mail; ; md one reason of my coming over so early ! vas not to keep you any longer defrauded of j four rights." "Many thanks," said Edna, taking up the j etter, which bore a foreign postmark. As ; ihe looked at it, her color changed ; but none I joticed the expression of her face except Vir-1 jilia, who was watching her, and saw that she j vas evidently agitated, though from what ;ause she could not divine. Henry Curtis | ,ook his leave, and the circle gathered again iround the table, the younger ones discussing he prospect of the coming entertainment, and [ juizzing Dolly unmercifully for the haste she j lad made to come back to see her admirer, ind the style in which she had gotten herself | ip ; while Edmonia finished her breakfast in , iilence, never raising her eyes, save to glanco ' lervously once or twico at the unopened letter 1 vhich lay beside her plate. "Who is your letter from, Edna?" asked ( leannette, carelessly, at length, as she rose rora her seat. "I have not yet read it," replied tidmoma, n a constrained voice; and directly after, as f unable to suppress heragitation auy longer, he, too, quitted the table, with the mysterious spistle in her grasp, and hurried from the oom. , "Why, what in the world," commenced Doroiiea, wonderingly, and left the sentence un- , inished, according to a habit she had. "I hope nothing is wrong," said Claribel, I vith a troubled look. "Edna looked very queer," said Jennie. 1 'How odd that she evaded my question in j uch a way. She must have known th? wri-, ing, I should think." "It is a foreign letter," said May. "Directed iu a gentleman's hand," added Juttie. "Now j Is it, my dear ?" sa id Jennie, "Then, lepend upon it, it is froin Edna's lover." "Edna's lover!" echoed one or two voices. | 'Who is Edna's lover?" "I dou't know, any more than you do; but1 lepend upon it, this is a letter from him,: vhoever he is. She's just the sort of some-1 )ody to have a lover that nobody has ever | heard of, who is to turn up suddenly, like a hero of romance, after being drowned, or buried alive, or banished to foreign lands, for the last ten or fifteen years." "0, Jennie!" exclaimed Claribel. "Sec if I am not right?that's all. How lucky that we all have white dresses; we may be called upon to act as bridesmaids at a moment's notice. And Edna, you know, has the loveliest pearl-colored silk ; it would suit her better than white, for a bri?" "Hush!" murmured Claribel, reprovingly, as Cyrus reentered the room. "Don't rattle on so, Jennie; you may be overheard." "Very well, Miss Prudence; but you will find that I am a true prophet, for all that." CHAPTER III. Let us now follow Edmonia to her own room, whither she had retired to acquaint herself, in private, with the contents of the epistle which caused so much curiosity and speculation in the family circle. With trembling fingers she broke the seal? a large red seal with a crest on it?and with eager eyes and beating heart perused the following lines: Naples, May 20th, 18? "My Dear Edmonia : "As I am on the eve of returning to my native land, I cannot forbear writing to you, as one friend who lam sure will extend a kind welcome to me, alter my long and enforced absence. The cause for this absence has lnlnlir Mimnvflil ill t.lifi death of niv aunt, of whom, as you are aware, I have had the entire rare for the past ten years. Her infirmity and sufferings have mode this service a very painful one, especially during the latter months of her life, but I am thankful that I have been able faithfully to discharge the duty so solemnly entrusted to me, by one who had the highest earthly claim to my obedience and respect. My poor aunt, I think, appreciated my care, and was always kinder and more gentle to me than to any one else; and although I cannot deny that herafiliction was a very heavy burden upon me, yet I speak sincerely when I say that I feel lonely and sorrowful now that my accustomed responsibility is gone. "My thoughts turn longingly now toward my old home, and those from whom I parted so long ago. I would fain hope that the joy I anticipate in a reunion with my friends, will be equally shared by them?by i'/ou especially, on whom my remembrance has ever affectionately rested, recalling the many happy days we have spent together in "auld lang syne." Dare I look forward to a renewal of that pleasant intercourse, or must I prepare myself to find a change? No, I cannot associate the* idea of change with yon; I remember you so calm, so consistent, so true, always moving in a holy and tranquil atmosphere, and following unswervingly the dictates of your own pure heart; and I think that no lapse of years could make you otherwise than you were, or create coldness and estrangement between yourself and any one who once had the happiness of possessing your friendship and esteem. "Prompted by this belief to write you this assurance of my own unaltered regard, and in the hope of a speedy reunion, I remain, dear Edmotiia, "Ever faithfully and affectionately yours, "Hugh Thornton." "P. S. "If nothing prevents I shall sail on the 2d of June, in the 'Adriatic', so you may look for me very soon. "H. T." As Edmonia read this letter, her face became illuminated with a tremulous radiance, born of some great inward joy that stirred her soul. Twice did her eyes devour the contents of the two clearly-written pages, from beginning to end, at first with feverish rapidity, but dwelling the second time carefully on every word, as if to impress its fullest significance upon her mind; then, with clasped hands and bowed forehead she murmured, in thrilling tones, "At last?at last! Father, how shall I thank Thee for Thy goodness ?" An hour later, Claribel, who was passing aloug the entry, heard her name softly uttered, and, turning, saw Edmonia looking out of her chamber door. "Come in here, Clarie," she said, as her younger sister approached, in a tone which the latter could not but feel was significant of something unusual and important. "I want to talk to you a little." Claribel marvelled, as she obeyed the request, at the rosy flush which mantled her sister's usually pale cheek, and the nnwonted brightness of her eyes, and not unnaturally connected these evidences of excitement with the arrival of the foreign letter. Edmonia immediately produced the document in question, and gave it to her read. "Well!" said Claribel, smiling, when she had finished, and looking a little puzzled at the same time. "Is this good news for you, Edna?" "It is very good?very pleasant news," replied Edna, striving to speak calmly, and to look as if she felt unconcerned. "Do you recollect Mr. Thornton, Clarie ?" "Not very well?indeed, scarcely at all," was Claribel's rejoinder. "You know I was very young when he went away. Are you and he very dear friends ?" "Does this letter say that we are ?" "I think it implies it?he writes in a tone of more than ordinary friendship. Dear Edna, am I right? Isn't there something special between you and him?" "No, there is nothing?nothing, at least, in the way that I think you mean. We are very old friends?and, Clarie?it might once have been?" "What might have been, dear?" "Our friendship might have grown iuto something more, my dear," said Edna, speaking hurriedly, and turning away her head. "He liked me very much, then?more than any one, I believe?but circumstances over which neither of us had any control occurred tn spnnrntp us Hp was fnreed to leave home : and so it all came to an end." "Why was he forced to go?" "Don't you remember ? Haven't you heard all about his unselfishness?his noble devotion to his insane aunt?who could not endure hira to be away from her ?" "I have heard so little about hira?you never told me, you know. Tell me now, Edna, won't you ? I should like so much to hear all about him, since you?since he is your friend." "He is coming home so soon?and I want you to appreciate him as he deserves. I don't know whether he is changed now, or whether he will do himself justice. He has been very noble! You know he was left an orphan when he was a child, and his "Uncle and aunt took him, and brought him up as their own son. He was otherwise auite un - ' J provided for, and they educated hira, and did everything for hira. He always felt that they had a strong claim on his gratitude, and he was, besides, really very fond of them both. So when Mrs. Thornton, his aunt, got into this state?" "What sort of state ?" "Why, she lost her roind ; and she had epilepsy, I believe, or something of the kind?at all events, she would suffer from the most dreadful paroxysms; and when they were at their worst, and nothing else could soothe her, Hugh's voice would have a quieting effect. She was perfectly unmanageable when he was away from her, and no one else could do anything at all. When he found that that was the case, he gave up all his pleasures to de 1 vote himself to her. Think, Clarie, a young man of scarcely twenty-five, as he was then, sacrificing his whole time to attend to an ini valid, and one suffering from such a frightful disorder!" "It was very generous," said Claribel. "Generous! I don't know another person ; who would have done as he did. The physicians recommended change of climate, and they went to Europe; and a little more than a year afterward, his uncle died, leaving the whole burden on his shoulders. You can judge what a burden it must have been." "Yes, indeed." "And now, after all these years of patient self-sacrifice, he is at last free?free to come back to his own home?" "Free to seek you again," said Claribel, | passing her arm affectionately around her sisI ter's waist. "Dear, dearest Edna! I am so ! glad, for your sake." "Hush, Clarie?why should you think that ? ! Remember how many years have passed !" I "Only ten." "Twelve?it is ten since his uncle died. ! Twelve years of separation! I was a young ! girl, then." "And pray, what are you now ?" "A staid, settled housekeeper?the monitress of half a dozen young folks, who all look upon sister Edna as an old maid." "Very likely," said Claribel, laughing. "What does your looking-glass show you? Bright eyes, thick, brown hair, without a silver thread?" "I should hope not, at thirty, interposed Edna. "A lovely complexion?particularly when it looks as it does now?a graceful figure, and regular features?why, Edna, you are prettier than any of us, I think." "Flattery?all flattery, my little Clarie," said Edraonia, shaking her head ; but her sister's praise delighted her, for all that. Was it not sweet to her to think that if she was fair in the eyes of another, she might still be fair in his ?" "I dare say he has long ceased to think of me?in that way." "I don't believe it," said Claribel. "I have a better opinion of him than to suppose so." "Why, it would not be unnatural; you know we were never engaged?only had a mutual likincr fnr eflnh other. I Would be foolish to dream of anything farther than that now. Still, of course I am pleased at the prospect of seeing him again." "Of course you are; how can you help it? Oh ! I wish he would make haste and come; I want so much to see my dear Edna's lov?" "Hush, Clarie, hush! Indeed, you must not call him that. If you go on in such a way you will make me sorry that I told you anything about him." "Well, I will not, then, Edna; I'll call him your old friend, 'only that and nothing more.' But I know what will happen. Jennie was right when she said?" Here Claribel checked herself, thinking that it might not be wise just to repeat those remarks of Jeauuette's about the white dresses aud the pearl-colored silk. "What did Jennie say?" "Never mind; I shall not tell you now, at all events." "Well 1" exclaimed Edna, as she put the precious letter away in a drawer (to be referral tn arrain in tVio nnnrao nf tViP npvf t.WPnt.V ? v\l WV MgMllJj IU VUV VVU?WW V< V??V uwu V > ! v fourhoura, oftener than she would have cared to have any one suspect,) "I must not idle ray time any longer. I don't know why I have told you all this, Clarie, except just to relieve myself by talking?I suppose I am very silly to think about it at all." "You know you are not silly ; and I am so glad you did tell me, Edna. Must I keep it a secret ?" "I do not care to have too much talk made about it," was Edna's rather indefinite reply. She did, in fact, feel that it would be pleasant to have her sisters cognizant of the facts she had revealed to Claribel, while, at the same time, she wished to avoid the appearance of j attaching too much importance to them herself. Poor Edna! she had kept her secret so long?had so nearly succeeded in convincing herself that all her little romance was ouly an idle dream, a memory of something forever put away out of sight, that it was no wonder she was completely thrown off her balance by this sudden revival of those buried^ hopes, this unexpected light that broke upon her future. A strange tumult was excited in her heart, a tumult of doubt and longing, of tender memories and anxious fears, of self-chiding for her own folly, as she chose to call it, and yet mixed with it all, a sweet conviction, which i would not be repressed, that the happiness she j hardly dared to dream of was actually in store I for her. It was this conviction that had made ! her confide her story to Claribel. She felt j such a longing for some one to share and symI .1 . TT-x i i patnize id mis great joy. x et, wneu ner I was gone, she almost thought she had beeD i premature, and unwise in doing so. What if, | after all, Hugh Thornton should return not ! as a lover, but simply as a friend ? She took | out his letter again aud read it over, though every word of it was impressed already on | her mind. He spoke of the renewal of their i former intercourse, and she well remembered what that intercourse had been. He had been , truly her lover in those days, though adverse | circumstances had combined to prevent the ; creation of any bond between them, save an | unspoken one, felt and understood by both. And was not the very fact of his writing to ! announce to her his expected return, and his | expression of his feelings and wishes, suffiI cient to assure her that he was unchanged ? ; In his noble unselfishness, he bad, during his ! absence, forborne seeking any communication i with her, doubtless desiring that she should ! feel herself altogether unfettered, until such i time as he was free to seek her love. Why should he have written, or, in writing, have I alluded at all to the past, if he wished now to ; meet ber simply on the ground or renewed acquaintanceship? Thus, in alternate doubt i and hope, did she balance the argument withi in herself, longing restlessly for the time to arrive when the question, so weighty to her, should, in one way or another, be set at rest. . But she felt that for her there could be no I more joy on earth, if it were settled the wrong . way. Having taught herself quiescence and ! submission to what she believed to be her fate, ; she had been hitherto contented and happy ; : but now this calm was broken up, the deep ; was stirred, and its troubled waters could never repose in their former stillness again. Claribel, having debated in her own mind i the propriety of sharing the knowledge that | had come into her possession with Jeannette, i and decided that Edmonia not having bound her to secresy, would nave no cauae iur uiopleasure in her doing so, sought her favorite sister, who was seated in the shady end of the j front piazza, rocking herself idly to and fro, j with an unopened book on her lap. "Well, Clarie! What have you been do; ing with yourself? I wanted you, and could not find you anywhere." "I have been in Edna's room." "Oh ! have you ? Then I know she has been talking to you about her letter." "Yes, she has. Oh! Jennie, you were right after all!" "Not exactly, but it was from her lover? her former lover, at least." "Only her former lover!" said Jennie in a disappointed tone. "That spoils everything." "Indeed, it does not; wait uutil you hear all." And without farther preface, Claribel proceeded to unfold her tale. Jeannette, of course, listened with profound interest; for when does a girl of nineteen not find a lovestory interesting ? "And so I guessed right I JNever say mat I am not a true propbtess again. Only think of Edna going to be married ! It does seem funny." "But that is not settled, by any means, Jennie." "Oh! well, it will be. Of course, they will be married?and soon, too, most likely. How nice for Edna not to be an old maid after all! I really thought she was going to be one, didn't you ?" "Yes ; but if she leaves us we will miss her dreadfully, Jennie." "Of course we will; you will, particularly, because you are her pet. But people must get married, I suppose. Dolly will be the next. It would be fun if there could be a double-wedding." "Rather a premature arrangement, considing that neither of them are engaged yet," said Claribel, laughing. "I think I remember Mr. Thornton," said Jennie, musingly. "A tall man, with dark eyes; of course it is only a vague remembrance, I was so little then. I wonder if he'll make a nice brother-in-law. What would we have to call him?" "Hugh, I suppose." "Or brother Hugh; that would sound more affectionate. I wonder how old he is." "Not more than thirty-five, I fancy; Edna did not say. Oh ! yes, I recollect now ; she did say he was twenty-five when his aunt fell -!-1_ J. 1 nnn. Thof nifllfPfl him SICK, IWCiVC jrcmc agu. .......? thirty-seven." "And she is nearly thirty-one; that's a difference. But it did seem to me that Edna was cut out for an old maid." "Edna is transformed by this letter. When she was talking to me she looked just as young and pretty as possible?not but what she is always pretty, of course; but she is generally quiet and serious, and just now she fairly sparkled! You would hardly have known her." "Poor, dear Edna," said Jennie, meditatively. Why she should pity Edna she could not well have explained to herself. But young girls, not yet out of their teens, are apt to have a sort of undefined compassion for their elder sisters, who have passed the mature age A*aiw a atata nf 01 ininy W1W1UUI CO^apiug uvui >UU UV...W -< single-blessedness. And it is difficult for a woman of thirty to feel young, if there behalf a dozen junior sisters in the house to flaunt their youthfulness forever in her face, aud revel, though it be unconsciously, in the superior freshness of their own charms. Edmonia looked young, but there was nothiug girlish about her; the responsibility which she had borne so loug had added to her nat1 ural society, aud made her appear much older than she really was, so that it was not mticlL___ wonder if to the volatile Jennie there appear> ed to be an immense distance between tbern. There had been an unseen listener to this dialogue, who now crept quietly away to her ' own room to ponder on what she had heard. Virgilia, sitting in the front parlor a ear the open window, had, unknown to the two girls, shared in the information Claribel had imparted. As soon as she had gained the retirement of her chamber, she locked her door, and with clenched hands, and frowning brow, commenced to pace rapidly up and down. "It is always the way!" she burst forth, vehemently. "I am a fool to care, or to expect anything else. It is always Clarie, Clarie, before every one! Claribel, who does not feel one tenth of the love for her that I do, must be the recipient of her secrets; she must confide her dearest hopes, her most sacred feelings, to her, while I?I am nowhere I She forgets ray very existence! I, who would lay down my life for her! Yes, I would suffer anything to save her from pain. But o T tViof flhfi upvpt oared for 11uiii a vuiiu jl iviv ? (? ? ?.... me?not as I would have her care. Why should Clarie have so much of her affection ? She does not deserve it. She does not care a quarter as much for Edna as she does for Jeannette ; and yet Jennie cannot compare with Edna in any particular?no, not in one. ! To hear those two talking about this as if it I were some commonplace affair?as if Edna j were some commonplace person?it made my J blood boil! Ah! if she had told me ! If she had come to me for sympathy! But no, she does not want my sympathy; she wants Clarie's?Clairie must know all about it before any one else. Ah! I shall hate Clarie? yes, I feel that I shall hate her before long, if she is always preferred to me." And then in a passion of mingled jealousy, ; rage and self-reproach, Virgilia cast herself j upon the bed and broke into a storm of weep| ing. Long did she remain in solitude, comj muning bitterly with her own yearning, rebelj lious heart; but no one missed her, or asked | for her, for they all supposed her busy with her books. [to be continued next week.] i "Adam."?The Talmud gives this reason , why the first man was called Adam. In English, the word Adam is spelled with four j letters, but in Hebrew it is spelled in three I letters, ADM. It says: God did ordain | that the world should last as long as He sees I good. The first man that was created was J called Adam; the second man, who was a | man of God's own heart, was called! David!; j and t he last man that ever will be born will;, be the Messiah. The first initial stands for Adam ; the second, D., for David ; M., for Messiah, which they say is the foundation or the reason why the first man was called Adam. Trees have been found in Australia that exceed the giants of California in height, though not in circumference. A fallen tree lately found in Victoria measures 480 feet, while the highest yet found in California was but 450.