Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, July 13, 1876, Image 1

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/ ' lewis m. grist, proprietor.[ An Insentient Jamilg ^lefospaprr: Jor t|e, ^romotiffn of % political, Social, Agricultural aitb Commercial Interests of t|e j$ont|. |terms?$3.00 A TEAR, IN ADVANCE. ? 1 : 1 i 1 % 'J. ' VOL. 22. _ YOBKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, JULY 13, 1876. JSTO. 28: Jto Original ^ LOST AND FOUND; yr or, THE WHITE FAWN OF THE FOREST. BY MRS. HENRY DEAS. ** CHAPTER I. Id the attic room of a large, rickety, overcrowded boarding-house, in a hot, dusty bystreet of New York city, a pale young woman sat bending over a piece of coarse needle-work, ~ " ''iti 11. while with one toot she rocked a nasKec craaie at her feet, in which lay a moaning child. A common scene enough, no doubt, in that busy metropolis, where poverty and discomfort are no rarities among so large a class of its inhabitants. But there was that in the face of this sorrowful-looking mother, which seemed to mark a strange incongruity between her surroundings and herself. An indescribable air of dignity and refinement, which her shabby dress and shabby work could not destroy or conceal, marked her as one, who, to use a common mode of expression, bad evidently seen better days. The small, frail . hands that wearily plied the needle seemed all unfit for their task. They looked like hands that had been born to wear jewels, and do none but dainty work. But no jewelB glittered on them now. Their only adornment was the plain gold ring on one finger, and the once delicate skin was roughened and embrowned by toil. Faster and faster, the needle flew as the waning light warned her that she must soon desftt, while still she swayed the cradle to and fro, occasionally pausing to settle the child more comfortably on its pillow, miiFmii, a snnthini, nnrH op crivA a QUU IV iUUt LUU4 M wvvvuiug ? W* 2)- V V brief caress. "Poor baby! if' mother coald only take you up!" she sighed at length as the little creature, weary of its position, broke into impatient cries. "Just a few minutes more now, and this seam will be done; and then father will be coming in, and he'll help me take care v of his little pet, while I get the tea." The words were scarcely spoken when a slow step was heard ascending the stairs; and directly the door was opened, and a goodlooking, dark-bearded man entered the room. The young wife looked up anxiously ; he met her wistful glance with a faint smile and a gently uttered, "Well, Mary!" as he stooped and kissed ber brow. "Have you met with any success, to-day ?" she asked presently, as he threw himself into a chair without speaking, f "No success, my dear. It's the same old | story always. I begin to think it's no use to try any more." "We must keep hoping," said Mary, in a tope that showed plainly enough how low down hope had ebbed in her heart. There was a short silence. "How's the little one, this evening ?" the father asked, as he rose and approached the baby, who ceased crying at his approach, 'z "Very fretful, and I think a little feverish. But that may be only my fancy." "It's this close room. I susDect." reioined the man. He lifted the child from the cradle and carried it to the window. Its head drooped languidly on his shoulder. The sash was raised, but scarcely a breath of air stole in. Tbfil fttronflnjlftrpi, fttifli,ng avan in larger,nnd better ventilated apartments on this burning July day, was rendered doubly oppressive ^ here by the reflection of the sun, which had been baking since noon on a flat tin roof just outside of the window. It was equal to a furnace. "How you do sew!" the husbancTrenisrkred, presently, as Mary, drawing nearer to the light, hurried toward the completion of her task. "You will ruin your eyes, if you try them in this way." "I have all but finished, Edward; there are but one or two inches more of this seam. I* must carry home the work to-morrow, and I have no time to lose." "And then you will get more." "Perhaps; I hope so. It's better than nothing." "A poor alternative! Mary, it goes.to my heart to see you toiling in this way." 1a^ no onoolr aP fkof nAOT " nkft JL/KJIX L let uo opccarw ui tuab uvn, ouo quietly replied. "We must take what we can get, you know; and in a little while I hope you may find something to do." "And in the meantime you are killing yourself!" pm.' "Oh, no! Dear Edward, it is not as bad as you suppose. The sewing is tiresome, but it does not hurt me. If I were more accustomed to it, I would get through it more easily. Only I get a little worried?about baby? sometimes." The forced cheerfulness with which she had begun her answer gave way with the last sentence. Her voice trembled and broke down. Now it was his turn to be the comforter. "Don't fret about the baby, darling. I think it's only her teeth that are troubling her in this way. She'll come out all right, never fear." "If only she could get a little fresh air!" "Yes; it is that she needs, poor lamb. I'll tell you what, Mary, I must contrive, some how or other, to take vou and her out into the country for a day. You both need a change. You are pining away in this suffocating den." "But it would cost money, dear; and we could not afford it." "It would cost only a dollar or so; and < what is the value of that, compared with your ; health ?" "But if we haven't got it to spend ?" "Then I must borrow it, that's all." "And add to our debts! No, that won't do." "I tell you, something must be done," said her husband, excitedly. "Matters cannot go on in this way any longer. If it is impossible for me to obtain work here, as it seems to be, we must go somewhere else. We must travel . V- to another city, or another State, if need be? even though we have to beg our way, or go on foot." "We might not stand a better chance, elsewhere." "We could not stand a worse. Tell me, what could be darker than our present prospects? We are all but starving now. You don't eat enough for a bird, and no wonder, with such poor food as you get. And the ~u;\a w?rtao rvtAra on/1 mnrn T troop AMf ! pUUI VUliu piuco uivtv cmu iuvivi a nvM? Vwv my shoes walking about the streets in search of what I never find. We have advertised in vain. I have answered advertisements, and in vain. Fate is against us. With all our efforts we cannot succeed. You earn a miserable pittance by work which isn't fit for a common seamstress to do; and you a lady, del- j icately born and reared. It maddens me to I think of it. I feel sometimes as if my senses were leaving me. I believe they will, unless 1 we make some change. We can try, at any rate; and if we must starve, why starvation j will be as easy in another place as here." Mary bad not heard him speak so despondently before. She looked at him wistfully, i through tears that blinded her, though she 1 tried to force them back. She could not an-1 swer him, but laying aside her work, set about preparing their scanty evening meal. A long silence, broken only by her light j movements, ensued. Meanwhile the sick child ( had fallen asleep, and the father laid her ten- { derly down, smoothing her little bed with womanly gentleness of touch, and afterwards ** fanning her to ensure more unbroken repose. "It is so hot, we won't draw the net over her yet, poor little thing," he said. "These musquitoes are about equal to the plagues of Egypt; there is no peace for them. What a ! climate it is ! One could get on better in a free atmosphere." "Even rich people have that discomfort," said his wife, trying to say something to put matters in a less doleful light. "No, they haven't; because they can get away from it. The city is half deserted ; only poor wretches like ourselves are forced to remain here and suffer." "Well, if one does not suffer in one way, one must in another, I suppose." "Yes; this world is made of suffering, there is no 'doubt of that. Little else in it to be gained, as far as I can see!" "I did not mean that, dear. I was only thinking that many of the wealthy people we might feel inclined to envy, have troubles and anxieties, most likely, that we know nothing about, and which make their money of comparatively little comfort to them." "So they may think. But troubles are certainly easier to bear when one has the necessaries of life than when one is without them." "At all events, we still have blessings to be thankful for. We are all together, and you and I keep well; and we have our love for each other to sustain us?we could not live without that, Edward!" "My love for you has not brought you much good, my poor Mary! It cannot give you food and clothing, and the rest you need. It has taken you away from a comfortable home, and put you to starve in a garret." "Oh, Edward! what a picture 1" and Mary laughed a little, for she bad not yet forgotten how to laugh. "You have on blue spectacles this evening, I think. You see things in such a melancholy aspect." "What's that about a melancholy aspect?" cried a cheery voice, as a brisk-looking little man put his bead in at the door. "Excuse me for intruding, Mr. and Mrs. Graham, and don't think me an eavesdropper, please; but your door stood ajar, and as I was coming up I could not help overhearing your last words, Mrs. Graham. I've brought you up a pitcher of ice-water; thought yours might have given out, and it's a long way down stairs to get more." "You are very kind," said Mary, gratefully; "we have had no ice all day. Edward, please give Mr. Sandford a chair?that is, if you don't mind sitting down for a minute or two, sir." "Mind 1 Why, I came on purpose to have a chat with you. No ice all day, did you say? Now I call that a confounded shame, I really do. Thermometer at ninety-eight; people down all about the streets with sun-stroke; house hot enough to fry one alive in it; least the proprietor can do to see that his boarders are supplied with ice." "W? r?Rnnnt renRnnahlv exnect attentions of that sort from Mr. Brown," said Edward Graham, rather bitterly. "As matters stand at present, we must be grateful to him for not turning us out, and for supplying us with bread and meat." "Pshaw ! Turn you out, indeed. I'd like to see him doit. He knows better than that, I can tell you. How's little Toddles getting on this evening ? Finds the weather trying, eh ?" "Yes, indeed, sir," said Mrs. Graham, with a tender glance toward the sleeping child, whom Graham was still fanning. "It is tryiug to every one, but especially a delicate baby ^ would it do to take her across the ' -1 o o _:.i. i j ierry, en : ouppose you pica uer up auu ruu over into the country somewhere, or make an excursion up the river; say to-morrow, eh? How would that suit?" "We were just speaking of something of the sort," replied Mary, "but I am afraid it would be impracticable." "Too busy, eh? Can't spare time?" "Not exactly that," said Mary, blushing, and with an involuntary glance toward her husband. Both delicacy and pride forbade her giving the real reason. But Mr. Sandford had penetration enough to divine it without any explanation. "Come!" said he, "I'll tell you what we'll do. I am dying for a little trip myself. I never go anywhere, you know, and I want to euchre these blood-thirsty wretches, called musquitoes, for one day, and get a sniff of pure air, but I don't feel inclined to go it alone. Ha, ha! see the joke? Well, I invite you all to accompany me. We'll go off and have a little frolic, and enioy ourselves. Don't refuse me, for if you won't go, I sha'n't either, and that would be a disappointment." The invitation, so pleasantly given, could not be declined, nor did its recipients desire to decline it. It was gratefully accepted, and Mary felt as if, in the anticipation of this simple pleasure, a glimpse of Paradise were opened to her. She had been so long shut up in that stifling chamber, tied down to her work, and worn by anxiety for her little girl, that an escape from it for a whole day, combined with the beneflt she trusted the child would derive from the change, was a prospect too grateful not to afford her pleasure. The next morning dawned most favorably. The sky was veiled by light grey clouds, just sufficient to temper the heat of the sun. A fresh breeze was blowing, and everything promised well for the excursion. The baby had slept well, and was less languid than usual. Her mother arrayed her iu one of the few white frocks she could afford to dress her in, and kissed the little pale face with a thrill of pleasure at the thought of the enjoyment in store for her. Little Leila was eighteen months old, very sensible and very observant for her a^e. but verv Dunv. She had been so -0-j, ^ J ? J much confined in an unhealthy atmosphere that she was, like a plant shut up in the dark, pining for a wholesome touch of sunshine and free air. She opened her innocent eyes in wonder when her bonnet and cape were tied on. Still greater was her mystification when she was carried down stairs and into a carriage which waited at the door, for a drive in a carriage was a totally new experience to her. They took a ferry-boat, and crossed the river, landiug at a quiet place Mr. Sandford had selected. A short walk brought them to a shady grove, deliciously cool and retired, yet in sight of the water, and of the steamers plying up and down. What a change from the close, heated attic of Mrs. Brown's boarding house! Already a faint rose-tinge glowed on the baby's cheeks, and a new lustre shone in her eyes. Even Mary and her husband brightened under the unwonted influence. A few hours' respite from labor, and change of j scene, seemed to ease the load that weighed j ^Atttn knorfo on/1 Inocnn flio onvmtioa nf ! Vll/YVU LU^ll UV/M1 bO| UUU 1VCK9VU UUV HUAIVV1VO U4 life. Soothed by the refreshing temperature and peaceful surroundings, Leila presently dropped asleep. Her mother, sitting on the grass beneath a spreading oak, cradled her in her arms ; and Mr. Sandford asked Graham if he would walk a little way with him, as he bad a subject of some importance to discuss. A little surprised, the latter readily agreed ; and while the two gentlemen strolled off together, still keeping in sight, though out of hearing, Mary yielded herself to a reverie that was partly pleasant and partly sad, entwined as it was of memories of the past, gratitude for the present, and half-framed hopes for the " .? * .1^.? i i iuiure, ror someimng seemeu iu aasuie uci that Mr. Sandford, although a friend of but recent date, would in some way contrive to help them, or at least put them in a path to help themselves. The circumstances of Mary Graham's life were romantic enough, though not very uncommon. She had, against her parents' will, married imprudently, and, as the world regards such matters, badly; yet Mr. Graham was a man of intellect, refinement and integrity, and her equal in all respects save one; he was penniless. Her father and mother were wealthy and selfish. They desired a brilliant marriage for their only child, and when, unable to resist the dictates of her lioart olio I off tlioir bnmft HfiCTetlv. with her lover, and was privately united to him at the house of a friend, she was followed by the stern command to refrain from ever setting foot beneath their roof, or seeking to see their faces again. Mary was sorely grieved, yet she did not repent of her rash act. Her devotion to her husband, and bis to her, softened the blow inflicted upon her, and cast a rosy halo over her future. The future, alas, had nothing in store for her, save the continuance of this faithful love. The very limited salary which Edward Graham, as clerk in a merchant's office, was receiving at the time of his marriage, soon afterwards ceased, on the death of his employer. He tried to obtain another situation, but in vain. He was a stranger in New York, whither they had removed when he was thrown out of employment, and bad no influence to back him; and all he could succeed in finding was an occasional transient job, barely remunerative enough to supply them with the necessaries of life. Then came illness, dangerous and protracted, and doctors' bills in proportion; and poor Graham, forced in debt, found himself with a feeble wife and a helpless baby, absolutely destitute of means, and not knowing whither to turn for help. Pride yielded to necessity, and he wrote a touching letter to his wife's parents, entreating aid for her, not for him. He even proposed to them to receive her back under their roof without him, promising to refrain from all communication with her until such time as he was able to support her?a proposition which it nearly maddened him to make, but tor her saae ne could consent to any sacrifice. Mary would never have let this letter go, had she seen it; but he sent it off without her knowledge. The answer came, brief and icy, but enclosing a cheque for five hundred dollars?enough to bridge over the chasm of their present needs. "Mr. and Mrs. Chase beg to acknowledge the receipt of Mr. Edward Graham's favor of the 13th instant. They regret that it is quite impossible for them to comply with his most singular and unlooked for proposal, to receive his wife under the stipulations made by him ; and are surprised that he should so entirely have failed to comprehend the utter severance of the tie which once existed between Mrs. Graham and themselves. Enclosed, however, Mr. G. will find a cheque for $500, which he is at liberty to make UBe of, with the understanding that no further application on his part, will be noticed or replied to." Graham ground his teeth with rage and mortification. He would have flung the paper in the fire, and consented to starve, sooner than use it for his own personal wants. But he looked at his wife and child, and, bitter as the draught was to his lips, felt that he must swallow it. The debts were cleared off, they tnnlr a riononf lndfTtncy ?nd hp fnimd tfimnora ry occupation in copying papers in an important law suit. Mary recovered her health, managed to procure needle-work, and for a little time their prospects seemed brighter. But employment failed again. There came more sickness, more debts. The barest comforts of life slipped away from them. They KWfea to s&sk A more tumble home, aufl here, subsisting only on the moderate earnings which Mary got by doing coarse sewing for a ready-made clothing store, they. might well have yielded themselves to absolute despair, but for their reliance, which fortunately did not forsake them, on the mercy of an all-wise Creator, and the hope that He would yet succor them in their need. CHAPTER II. "The subjecti wished to converse with you on," said Mr. Sandford to Graham, when they were out of Mary's hearing, "is?emigration." "Emigration ?" interrupted Graham, interrogatively. "Yes. It is a subject, as you are aware, at present undergoing much discussion in the public journals of the day ; and there is a special article I have cut out of one of the newspapers, which I would like you to read, and think over." He handed the extract, thus alluded to, to his companion as he spoke. Graham read it with attention. It was the sketch of a project, recently set on foot by a certain number of men, to travel with their families to ths far West, and there make themselves a home. It portrayed, in glowing colors, the advantages of the scheme, and the immense success likely to accrue from it. A magnificent tract of land, favorable in point of soil and climate, rich in natural vegetation, watered by the purest mountain streams, and abounding in picturesque scenery, lay awaiting cultivation, its only present occupants being a few scat-* tered Indians, who could easily be bribed or coerced into abandoning it to its new claimants. The difficulties of a journey thither might be great, but for all such difficulties those who chose to make the venture, would be amply compensated when they reached its end. Once arrived at that glorious region, they could build up for themselves a settlement which, it would only need a little time, industry and care, to render one of the moat flourishing and prosperous in the Western Hemisphere. This and much more did the prospectus embody, embellishing, with a good deal of exaggeration and unnecessary rhodomoutade, some sterling and practical truth and good sense. The arguments in favor of the move were plain and satisfactory, evidently the result of careful inquiry and prolonged consideration ; and, in conclusion, the writer entreated all, in whose hands it might fall, to give it an attentive perusal, hoping that the number of those already banded together for the enterprise, might be swelled by new recruits, who, with brave hearts and willing hands, would be ready to aid them in conquering the obstacles in their way, and to reap with them the fruits of their underta King. "Well 1" said Mr. Sandford, as Edward handed him back the paper with a thoughtful look, "what do you think of it?" "That I should like nothing better than to make one of the party," was the prompt rejoinder. "The West is a fine country, and opens a wide field for labor and profit." "And speculation," said Mr. Sandford. Graham shook his head. . "I do not put much faith in speculation," he answered slowly. "I believe iu sure, steady work, for a certain remuneration; unflagging energy aud perseverance, which, in time, must man ttioir rouiaivl nrncirlprl ttiprp in annnA fnr their exercise. Now, here I am bound hand and foot. I am powerless, because no field is open to me. God knows how willingly I would work. There is no labor I shrink from, yet no man will give it me to do". It is hard to long to be active, ready to yield one's full powers to any task, and yet forced to remain idle." "You would not object, then, to trying your luck in a new country?" "Object! I should glory in being able to do so. But for me it is impracticable, as you well know." "For what reason? Simply the want of means?" "That is the first and raoBt weighty reason. Others might be overcome?8uch as the risks of the journey for my wife and child, and so forth ; for risks there must always be, attending schemes like these. But with the neces sary means?so desperate has my situation here now become?I believe I could discard i all such fears, and embark unhesitatingly on the enterprise, trusting to Providence to bring us safely through." "The expense would not be very great, according to the figures put down in that piece; and the writer seems to have calculated very carefully the probable outlay of the expedition." . "A few hundreds are easy to write about, but often difficult enough to obtain," said poor Graham, to whom stern experience had made this truth patent. "And every one joining in the plan must, of course, bear bis own share of the expense." "Certainly. Each individual contributes to the common fund ; and then each one must have some surplus money retained, for his own support, for a reasonable time, after reaching the journey's end. Now do you think that a thousand dollars?or say fifteen hundred?would be an adequate sum to start with?" "I should imagine that to be kmple," replied Graham. "Very well. "Noif,*ir, I have a proposition to make to you. If, on careful deliberation?careful deliberation, I repeat, because it's too important a matter to be lightly or unadvisedly taken in hand?you arrive at the conclusion that you are ready and willing to take part in the risks and profits of this enterprise, I desire to advance to you the sura of fifteen hundred dollars, as a loan, for the purpose of defraying all necessary expenses attendant upon it, to be returned at your own convenience; that is to say, when you have built up your fortune in the glorious West, and not a day earlier." The color rushed into Graham's face, then ebbed as suddenly, leaving him deadly pale. A proposal of this sort, coming from a comparative stranger, and one on whom he had not the slightest personal claim, was sufficiently startling to make him doubt, for a moment, whether it was made in jest or not. But Mr. Sandford's shrewd, kindly face bore the impress of perfectly sincerity ; and Graham, deeply moved, struggled for some time with his agitation before he could put his feelings into words. "Take time?take time?don't hurry yourself to answer," said Mr. Sandford, cheerfully, and affecting not to remark his emotion. "I a"m quite aware that it's not a point to be settled rashly?give yourself a chance to consider it." He was turning away to allow Graham an opportunity of reflecting at his leisure, when the latter stopped him by hurriedly laying his hand upon his arm. "Stop, sir, stop," he exclaimed, in tremulous tones. "I don't know how to express my gratitude?it is so overpowering, it takes away my breath almost?but first tell me, in God's name, are you in earnest ?" "In earnest! Never more so?do you suppose I'd be guilty of trifling with you?" responded his companion, with assumed testiness of manner. "To tell you the truth, I've some odd hundreds of dollars lying around loose, that I am anxious to invest; and I don't see a better way of investing than placing it in your hands." "Oh! sir,it would be a rash investment? please consider. What if l am not able to return the money to you? What if, after accepting your generous, more than generous offer I fail of success, as I may do. in spite *of all my efforts r "Pshaw! I'm not afraid of that, Mr. Graham. As far as I can judge, you're the very man to succeed. And besides, you need not fear that I shall press you?you can take as long about it as it suits you to do. I am pretty well off, thank God; and even if the money never returns to me?though I haven't a doubt that it will?Lassure you I should Dot regard the loss." "I don't know what to make of such kindness," said Graham. "I have never met with its equal before" "The world has gone hard with you, eh? Never mind, you know the old saying?'It's a long lane that has no turning.' Perhaps this is the turning point, and you'll find your path tolerably smooth in future. How do you suppose your wife will like the idea of going on this expedition? Will she take to it kindly, do you think?" "She will make no objection, I am sure," said Graham, "but will join me in gratitude to you for?" "Now look here, my friend," interrupted Mr. Sandford, touching his arm, "I have one weak point, and that is, an unbounded dislike to being thanked. It's a crotchet of mine, and I dare say an unreasonable one, as most crotchets are ; but if anything in this world puts me out of patience, it is having a fuss made over any good I am able to do. Therefore, your best mode of thanking me will be? simply to act upon my suggestion, and say as few words on the subject as possible." "Then I can only say," rejoined Graham, with emotion, "that I appreciate your offer from the depth of my heart; and shall enI rloonnn f A t\HAtra iklft kt* m?r onfmr\fl Ol n AC VA11 UC?TUI UV/ piv?0 bUlO UJ IUJ OVV1UUU) Diuvv j vu object to my expressing it in words." "You accept, then. I'm satisfied you will not regret your decision. Why, sir, if I were ten years younger, I would take part in the enterprise myself?there's nothing I would like better. But for a man of my age there is not much inducement to make such a move. I am getting indolent, now,'and wagon-traveling over the plains wouldn't suit me as well as a comfortable arm-chair in my room at home. I've only put up temporarily at Brown's, you know. I have my eye on a snug little cottage, over in Jersey, that I shall probably purchase and settle down in for good. Lord ! I wouldn't live in a boardinghouse?especially one like his?on any conj sideration. Yet I'm glad, now, that chance ! led me there, since it made me acquainted j with you. As to that wife of yours, Mr. I Graham, it doesn't need a very long acquaintance to discover that she is a pearl among women. You have a treasure in her, I feel convinced." "I have, indeed," was Graham's warn#reply. "She is the most patient, devoted, selfsacrificing?" "Of course?of course. I see it all. For her sake, my dear sir, you should be willing to undergo much ; as indeed I know you are. But is she strong, now ? Is she fit to cope with the hardships you may encounter on the i way ?" | "I think she is. She has a wonderful a! mount of endurance; and although she looks I pale, she enjoys good health. /1 is the constant confinement, and anxiety of mind, which have given her that delicate appearance. When she married me," added Graham, with a sigh, "there was not a more blooming or beautiful girl to be found anywhere?but .. LI. I 1 u J ? ? iruuuit) lias ttiluuai vvuiu wci uuyvu. "Ah, well!" she'll get strong and blooming again, no doubt, in that glorious country you are going to. And the little one will thrive too. She needs a change, poor Kttle blossom." "I feel as if you had put new life into me," cried Graham, with an energy that was an unmistakable exponent of his feeling. "I wish I could start to-morrow?this very hour 1" "Patience, patience, my dear sir I If you take my advice, you'll go and call to-morrow on this agent. I shall be happy to accompany you, if you have no objection." "Ohififitinn !" renaated Graham. "T should esteem it as a very great favor, I assure you." "Then I'll go. And another piece of advice I have to offer you, which is this?lose no time in removing your family from that hot, unwholesome room you now occupy, to some cooler and healthier location. We can look around to-morrow, when we are together, and hunt up a place. You see it will be some weeks, probably, before you are able to leave the city, and meantime there is no use in submitting to greater discomfort than one can help." After a prolonged discussion of the subject so full of interest to Graham, they returned to Mary, who was now playing with Leila, the child having awakened from her nap. "Give me the little one," said Mr. Sandford, "and I'll take her down to the bank aad let her watch the boats, while you two have a talk together. I hope you won't blame me, Mrs. Graham, for putting a wild-goose scheme in your husband's head; but he has promised not to carry it out without your approval." Mary had already perceived, by her husWin n. 1 'n Lnnminrv **Ck an/1 al aaflA lion Qfl Ka UDUU o ucauiiug law uuu viuqviv ?w|/ ?#w mw approached her, that he had good tidings to impart to her; and she now eagerly listened while he unfolded his plans. As he had foreseen, she offered no opposition to them, but joined in his gratitude for the Providential succor; yet secretly it was not without foreboding that she looked to the untried perils of the toilsome journey they contemplated. Putting such thoughts aside, however, she cordially entered into his views, and shared the enthusiasm with which he depicted the future in storb .1: them when they had reached their far-off,goal. Sadly enough, she felt that she would, in making this move, be putting no wider barrier between herself and her old home than already existed. She had long ceased to hope for anything like a reconciliation between her parents and herself, and, such being the case, believed that it would be almost less painful to live at a distance from them than within their reach. On the following day Mr. Graham, accompanied by his kind friend in need, visited the office of the agent who had issued the prospectus of the plan, and there learned more fully all the particulars connected with it. He was also introduced to one of the men who were to conduct the expedition, a sturdy farmer, Scott by name, who, with his wife and ten children, the youngest but six weeks old, intended to seek a wider scope for his energies than was ODen to him at home. He I o * spoke with such enthusiasm of his prospects, that Graham's own ardor was increased tenfold, and bis last vestige of ^oubt and uncertainty vanished ; and before* he left the office he bad 'enrolled himself among those whose names were on the list for departure, and pledged himself to share their fate. Some weeks of busy and active preparation followe<L during which Mary and little Leila, removed to comfortable rooms in an airy location, rapidly improved in health and strength. Some Of the money advanced by Mr. Sandford had to be spent in getting up a necessary outfit for them al', and Mary's needle flew faster than ever, as she manufactured stout, serviceable garments for herself and the child, but now her heart was in the work, and encouraged her willing hands. Always readily influenced by her husband's judgment, she had soon succeeded in conquering, or at least putting aside, the natural fears she had at first felt, and now looked only at the bright side of the future. She pictured to herself a happy home in the vast blooming regions of the fertile West, reared by industry and enriched by taste, where the little Leila might bounding antelope, softened and beautified by her own motherly care; where Edward, throwing himself with ardor into the duties of his new life, might conquer adversity, and secure for them the ease and comfort which he had here toiled for in vain. She saw him, freed from the cares which had so cruelly I ' l 1 . * J ?il iL. I A.I trammeled mm, re-investea who me uupeiui and buoyant spirit of former years, and her heart bounded to think that release, even in this shape,should come to him at last Sometimes her thoughts turned, with a pang, to the familiar scenes of her childhood and youth, which she was about to leave, perhaps forever; but, alas! the associations connected with these were no longer bright, and had in them more of sadness than of pleasure. Notwithstanding the unkindness of her parents, her gentle heart still yearned toward them. How thankfully would she have received their blessing ere she turned her face away from home. Since she dared not plead for this, however, she was obliged to content herself with writing a short farewell letter, which ran as follows : "My Ever Dear Parents : I must, for the first and only time, transgress your command to seek no communication with you. Since I do not look forward to seeing your faces again in this world, I cannot forbear sending you a few parting words. In a few days' time I leave with my nusoana anaemia ior me iar wesi, wuhb we hope to establish ourselves comfortably, and make a better support than we can here. We go with an emigrant train, and are, therefore, prepared to encounter hardships and fatigue, but I trust God will bring us safely to our journey's end. It would comfort me to think that I had your prayers, though it may be that I do not deserve them. Dear father and mother, will you forgive the past, and send me at least your blessing? I would that I might have seen my little child once in your arms. I think you would love her, for she is innocent and has done you no wrong. She bears mother's name. I hoped you would not be angry at my giving her that. Forgive me for disobeying you, in writing this ; indeed, indeed, I could not help doing it. Goodbye to you both, and may we meet, if not here, in a better world, where the sins and offenses of this shall be wiped out, and hearts estranged from each other be re-united never to he divided again ! Yours, in unchanged affection, "Mary E. Graham." A sufficient time elapsed, between the sending of this letter and the departure of this expedition, for an answer to reach the writer of it, but none came. She bad hoped faintly for one; still the lingering hope was there, and suffered a fresh wound in the disappointment. It was no time now, however, to cherish such feelings. She felt that all her hopefulness and energy must come into play, to carry her through the difficulties before her, and resolutely putting aside the past, she addressed herself to the duty of sustaining her husband's courage by her own cheerful spirit, and thus assisting him to bear the great responsibility of this weighty undertaking. [To be Continued.] Healthand Longevity.?It would seem from statistcs gathered by medical men, that invalids are more likely to attain a great age than are the healthy and robust; and that life assurance companies would be wise to accept them as patrons, instead of rejecting them, as iB now the custom. In a recent lecture by Dr. R. Southley, it is declared that: ( "Health and longevity are not synonymnna noitbor ftrft Kipnifb and (yrfiaf. miispnlnr ity. The most muscular men, great prize- ' fighters, men who could fell an ox with their fists, have been known to be always ailing, and complaining about themselves. The state of perfect training, regarded by those who know little of it as a condition of most peri?nu ii U:J : : 1 ieui ueaiiu, id rtuuei uuc ui wuruiu iiuuii* nence. Longevity, like height, is a race attribute, but it does not signify health. The ' three oldest people I ever knew?women who ' reached respectively 89, 98 and 100?were valetudinarians, and had been so nearly all j their lives." " j Good Advice for the Young.?Avoid 1 all boasting and exaggeration, backbiting, j abuse, evil speaking, slang phrases and oaths f in conversation ; depreciate no man's qualities, ? and accept hospitalities of the humblest kind < in a hearty and appreciative manner; avoid I giving offense, and if you do offend, have the i manliness to apologize; infuse as much ele- i gance as possible into your thoughts as well as your actions; and, as you avoid vulgarities < you will increase the enjoyment of life, and i grow in the respect of others, ' 1 Igistellaneous fading. THE DEMOCRATIC CANDIDATES. SKETCH OP GOV. TILDEN. Governor Tilden was born atNew Lebanon, in the county of Columbia and State of New York, in the 1814. He entered college in his eighteenth year. He had not been long at Yale College before his health gave way, and obliged him to leave. After some rest, he was enabled to resume his studies, and in 1834 entered the University of New York, where he completed his academic education. He then entered the law office of the late John W. Edmunds, in the city of New York, where he enjoyed peculiar facilities for the prosecution of his favorite studies of law and politics. Upon his admission to the bar, Mr. Tilden opened an office in Fine street, in the city of New York. In 1844, in anticipation and preparation for the election which resulted in making James K. Polk President and Silas Wright Governor of the State of New York, Mr. Tilden, in connection with John L. O'Sullivan, founded the newspaper called the Daily News. In the Fall of 1845, he was sent to the Assembly from the city of New York, and while a member of that body, was elected to the convention for the remodeling of the constitution of the State, which was to commence its sessions a few weeks after the Legislature adjourned. In both of these bodies Mr. Tilden was a conspicuous authority, and left a permanent impression upon the legislation of the year, and especially upon all the new constitutional nrovisions affecting the finances of the State and the management of its system of canals. The defeat of Mr. Wright, in the Fall of 1846, and the coolness which had grown np between the friends of President Polk and the friends of the late President Van Buren resulted fortunately for Mr. Tilden, if not for the country, in withdrawing his attention from politics and concentrating it upon his profession. He inherited no fortune, but depended upon his own exertions for a livelihood. Thus far his labor for the State, or in his profession had not been lucrative, and, despite his strong tastes and preeminent qualifications for political life, he was able to discern, at that early period, the importance in this country, at least, of a pecuniary independence for the successful prosecution of a political career. With an assiduity and a concentration of energy which have characterized all the transactions of his life, Mr. Tilden now gave himself up to bis profession. It was not many years before he became as well known at the bar as he had before been known as a politician. His business developed rapidly, and though he continued to take more or less interest in political matters, they were not allowed, after 1857, to interfere with his professional duties. Since the year 1855 it is safe to say that more than half of the great railway corporations north of the Ohio and between the Hudson and Missouri rivers have been at some time his clients. The general misfortunes which overtook many of these roads between 1855 and 1860 called for some comprehensive plan for relief. It was here that his legal attainments, his unsurpassed skill as a financier, his unlimited capacity for concentrated labor, his constantly increasing weight of character and personal influence found full activity, and. resulted in the reor- ; ganization of the larger portion of the great net work of railways, by which the rights of all parties were equitably protected, wasting , litigation avoided, and a condition of great depression and despondency in railway property replaced by an unexampled prosperity. Till the war came, Governor Tilden made every effort to avert the rebellion. When his efforts, combined with those of other prominent patriots, had proved abortive, his convictions of duty were perfectly decided and clear. They were to maintain the integrity of our territory, and the supremacy of the constitutional authorities. He had been educated in the schodl of Jackson, and had been a diligent student of the lessons taught by the nullification controversy of 1833. He had studied carefully and profoundly the relation of the Federal and State Governments, and of the citizens of those Governments. He had thus early formed perfectly clear and settled opinions, about which his mind never < vascillated. During the Winter of 1860?'61 i he attended a meeting of the leading men of hntli nflrfipn in t.ViA nifw nf VnrV tn mn- < ""v" r?? ? ? "v "* 1 1 aider what measures were necessary and prac^ 1 ticable to avert an armed collision between, i what were then termed the free and the slave i States. To the North he urged reconciliation i and forbearance, appreciating as he did, more clearly than most 6f those around him the fearful and disastrous consequences of a civil 1 war, whatever might prove its ultimate result. 1 To the South he urged a deference to the will ] of the majority and a respect for the provis- ! ions of the Federal Constitution, within 1 which they would be sure of adequate protec- { tion for themselves and for their property; but he warned them that outside of the Con- * stitution they could expect protection for neither. To Secretary Chase and his friends, ! Mr. Tilden insisted that the war ought to be ' carried on under a system of sound finance, 1 which he did not doubt the people would 1 cheenuIJy sustain ii the (iovernment would 1 have the courage to propose it At a later 1 period of the war he was invited by the Gov- , ernment at Washington to give his advice as 1 to the best methods for its further conduct. ' He said to the Secretary of War: "You have no right to expect a great mili- 1 tary genius to come to your assistance. They only appear once in two or three centuries. . You will probably have to depend upon the j average military talent of the country. Under such circumstances your only course is to avail yourself of your numerical strength and your superior military resources resulting ; from your greatest progress in industrial arts and your greater producing capacities. You j must have reserves and concentrate your forces on decisive points, and overwhelm your ! adversaries by disproportionate numbers and 1 reserves." j His advice was not taken, but he bad the , satisfaction, within a year after it was given, > of hearing the Secretary of War acknowl- j edge its wisdom and lament his inability to . secure its adoption. With the peace came to j Mr. Tilden the most important political labor ? of his life. With the assistance of Charles ^ O'Conor, who followed the members of that ?ii u in liana 1 rrir?rvv? vauu vi vvuopuatuio nibu an uio uouai and adroitness until it was not only broken c up, but its leading members scattered to the 8 four quarters of the globe, he assailed and f overthrew the combined Republican and , Democratic Ring which ruled and ruined ^ New York. This "ring" had its origin in an j act passed by the Legislature of the State of e New York in 1857, in connection with the ^ charter of that year, which provided that but a i\x persons should be voted for by each elec- g tor and twelve chosen. In other words, the E aominees of the Republican and Democratic ^ party caucuses should be elected. At the r succeeding session of the Legislature their {term of office was extended to six years. This c gave a Board of Supervisors, consisting of ^ six Republicans and six Democrats, to change a majority of which it was necessary to have control of the primary meetings of both of tl the great national and State parties for years g n succession?a series of coincidences which u arely happens in a generation. ti Early iu September he issued a letter to sev- p mty-six thousand Democrats, reviewing the n lituation and calling upon them "to take a o snife and cut the cwcer out by the roots," ii Bat before the meeting of the convention an event happened which coald not have been foreseen, bat which was pregnant with the mcst important consequences. To the eternal honor of the Democratic party of the city and State, on the issue thus made up by Mr. Tilden they gave him their cordial and irresistible support The result was overwhelming, and not only changed the city represen tation in the legislative bodies of the estate, but, in its moral effect, crushed the "ring." Mr. Tilden was one of the delegates chosen to *represent the city in the next Legislature. In deference to the views of his principal coadjutors, Mr. Tilden devoted the six weeks' interval between his election and the meeting of the Legislature to the prosecution of its investigation in the city departments and in preparing the vast mass of accurate information which was the basis of all the judicial proofs that have since been employed successfully in bringing the members of the "ring" to justice or driving them into exile. Mr. Tilden gave his chief 'attention, during the session of the Legislature, to the promotion of those objects for which he consented to go there, the reform of the judiciary and the impeachment of the creatures who had acquired the control of it under the-Tweed dynasty. Mr. Tilden had thus, by his bold acts, made himself prominent in the work of reform, and was recognized as the man to lead it in the State. Prominent friends of reform urged him to accept the nomination for Governor. They said he could be nominated without difficulty and elected triumphantly, and in his triumph the great cause of administrative reform would receive an impulse which would propogate it not only over the whole State, but over the Union. Mr. Tilden ultimately consented to take the nomilhtion for Governor. He was nominated and elected, and whatever lessons or eloquence could be expressed in big majorities were not wanting to lend their eclat to his triumnh. Mr. Tilden's dIu rality over John A. Diz, the Republican candidate, was 53,315. Mr. Diz had been elected two years previously by a plurality of 53,451. Mr. Tilden is now in the sixty-third year of his age. He is five feet ten inches in height, and has what physiologists call purely nervous temperament, with its nsual accompaniment of 6pare figure, blue eyes and fair complezion. His hair, originally chestnut, is now partially silvered with age. At the Utica Convention resolutions were passed presenting his name as a candidate for the Presidency, and requesting the delegates to vote as a unit gov. hendricks. Thomas A. Hendricks was born in Muskingum county, Ohio, in 1819 and is, therefore, fifty-seven years of age. He removed to Indiana, and in 1851 was elected to Congress where he remained until 1855, when he was appointed Commissioner of the Land Office. He filled this position until 1859, when he was elected United States Senator for siz years. In 1868 he was the Democratic candidate for Governor, but as the passions and prejudices were then too strong for any Democrat to be chosen, Mr. Hendricks was defeated by a small majority. In 1874 he was elected to this position which he has since filled with signal ability, adorning the place with the simplicity of the early Roman tim&, when the robust virtues were valued at their true worth. Gov. Hendricks is one of those unaffected great men who impress themselves forcibly on the era as much by the wide contrast with others as by their own simple worth. Greenland Dogs.?Two of these dogs can drag as much as one man. Nothing can be more ezhilerating than dog-sledging in the Arctic regions on a fine day. The rattling pace of these dogs, their intelligence in choosing the road through the broken ice, the strict uueutcucu ptuu uy iub team to uiie powerful dog whom they elect as leader, the arbitrary exercise of authority by the master dog, the constant use of the whip, and the running conversation kept up by the driver with the different dogs, who well know their names, afford constant enjoyment However useful they may be, these Arctic dogs seem to be deficient in that affectionate disposition which endears their species so much to man. ? A traveller once said that he believed the Esquimaux dogs to be the most ungrateful creatures in creation. He had traveled for several hundred miles by sledge, and for six weeks it-was his duty regularly to feed th8 dogs ; but after only a few weeks'absence at the conclusion of his journey, they would not recognize him in the slightest degree. It is impossible to domesticate these creatures, as under tender treatment they sicken and die. Eradicating Conceit.?Humility had this consolation: It finds that the greatest minds have had the least conceit; that Shakspeare bent down from the imperial height of bis intellect to be taught by a clown?to %e informed by a milkmaid; that Socrates, in his celebrated voyage in search of knowledge, with his perpetual questions concerning the cause of things, found that knowledge in a workman 8 snop wmcn ne couia not noa imongst the schools of the professors or philosophers ; that Newton compared himself to a child, who, playing on the seashore, bad picked up a shell here and a stone there, and thought them pretty, but knew of them no more. The bullet of steel is worn smooth and polished when it has passed through the gizzard jf an ostrich. The most conceited young prig whoever lived will find his level when brought to the rude experiences of the world. The California Wheat Crop.?A prominent grain operator gives the surplus wheat for shipment this season as three and a quarter million short tons, exceeding by two hundred thousand tons the crop of 1872. The field is unusually heavy in all parts of the State, and in qu ality the best that was ever presented in the State. He gives the price for July delivery alongside the ship at ninetysix cents per bushel, and expects no difficulty in procuring labor for harvesting or transporting from the interior unless the bulk of ;he crop is held until late in the season, which would probably overtax railroad facilities, rhe tonage here and known to be on the way 8 four hundred and fifty thousand tons capacity, and enough is expected between now ind December to take all that is offered. The lurplus barley is estimated at 75,000 tons, at ifty cents per bushel alongside the ship. When to Eat Fruit.?The question is iften asked at what time in the day fruit hould be eaten. In tropical countries, where ruit is the chief article of food, the rule ap>ears to be that the earlier in the day it is tacen the better, and the later the worse. In tot weather many wise people will eat none iffcer noon, alleging that the digestion then leclines in power with the decline of the day, ind the fruit, instead of digesting, decompo coj uYvxug tu buo picociivc vi buv oavvuai 1UO natter. The objection to fruit and certain dnds of vegetables late in the day, be the exilanation what it may be, is certainly justified iy an ample experience, though some persons an eat fruit at all hours without feeling any aconvenience. Blushing.?Nothing can b&jmore absurd ban the idea that "looking guilty" proves uilt. An honest man charged with crimn is auch more likely to blush at the accusation ban the real offender, who is generally, preared forHhe event, and has bin face "ready aade." T^Very thought of being suspected f anything criminal will bring the blood to an anocent man's cfoek nine times out of ten. . ..