University of South Carolina Libraries
lewis m. GKisT, Proprietor.j |nhe|?tnkirt ^antilj Itetospper: ,for tjje ^promotion of % political, Social, ^gricnltnral anb Commercial Interests of tjje jSontjj. TERMS?$3.00 J YEAR, 0 AfiTAIlCE. VOL. 23. YORKYILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, MARCH 22. 1877. 3STO. 12. NO TIME LIKE THE OLD TIME. There is no time like the old time, When you and I were young, , When the buds of April blossomed, And the birds of Spring-time sung. The garden's brightest glories By Summer suns are nursed, But oh! the sweet, sweet violets, The flowers that opened first! 1 There is no place like the old place, Where you and I were born, , Where we lifted first our eye-lids, On the splendors of the morn, From the milk white breast that warmed us From the clinging arms that bore, Where the dear eyes glistened over us That will look for us no more! There is no friend like the old friend That has shared our morning days, No greeting like his welcome, No homage like his praise; Fame is the scentless sunflower, With gaudy crown of gold; But friendship is the breathing rose, With sweets ih every fold. There is no love like the old love That we courted in our pride; Though our leaves are falling, falling, And we are fading side by side. There are blossoms all around us, With theoolors of our dawn, And we live in borrowed sunshine w- When the light of day is gone. ^ v There are no times like the old times? They shall never be forgot! There is no place like the old place? Keep green the dear old spot! There are no friends like our old friendsMay Heaven prolong their lives! There are no loves like old lovesGod bless onr loving wives. Jto (Nginal JFtotg. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. JULIAN MORVHXE'S BRIDE; THE POWER OF LOVE. CHAPTER III. RUIN. Mr. Orville was a man of great wealth. He was unmarried, and lived a quiet and unostentatious life on his estate, which adjoined that of Mr. Manvers, with whom he bad been, since boyhood, on terms of the closest intimacy. ;:1 t ^ His character was amiable, but very weak. He bad the kindest and most generous heart in tbe world, but no firmness of purpose, and was always too ready to listen to the advice of others, and to follow it, whether good or bad, rather than take the trouble to decide for himself. He had the most exalted ideas in regard to the claims of friendship, and would have considered it base and dishonorable to shrink in any way from aiding a friend in difficulties, no matter what personal sacrifice this might involve. % Leonard knew that his father had, at different times, borrowed considerable sums from him, and supposed it was to assist in paying off the debts he had incurred. Though how these debts had first arisen seemed inexplicable, since Mr. Manvera' own property had always been deemed to be very considerable, and his mode of living did not appear more extravagant than was consistent with the position he occupied. Mr. Orville now came more frequently to his neighbor's house than he had ever done before. Almost every evening he made his appearance just as the candles were lighted, and after lingering a short time in the parlor, would disappear within the recesses of the * * -A-1. 1 "mysterious room," as .Leonard now styiea n to himself, and not emerge thence until long after the boy had gone to bed. One night, curiosity and uneasiness overpowering bis weariness, Leonard, having already waited until some time past his usual hour for retiring, resolved not to go to bed until his father and his guests should make their appearance and disperse for the night. He accordingly seated himself in an armchair in the dining-room, near a door which opened upon the hall, through whieh they would be obliged to pass. He resolved to try and fathom this mystery, which had now been going on for several weeks, but to which, as yet, he had been unable to gain any clue. The marble clock on the mantel chimed twelve; half-past twelve; one. A profound silence reigned, broken only by an occasional muffled murmur of voices, and Leonard, quite * " * i i 1 I overpowered by latigue, couia no longer Keep his eyes open, but leaning back in his chair fell fast asleep. He knew not how long he had slumbered, when at length a noise in the hall awoke him. He started up, suddenly remembering the object of his watch, and looking eagerly out through the open door, being himself hidden by the aurroundiug darkness, but able quite plainly to distinguish objects in the hall, where the lamp was still dimly burning, he saw his father, bearing a candle in his hand to afford a better light, coming in company with three others?Mr. Orville, and two of the men who had lately become visitors at his house, whose names Leonard scarcely knew. By the light of the candle, the boy perceived that Mr. Orville's face looked pale and gloomy. He walked with an absent and pre-occupied air, while his host, following just at his elbow, had a strangely excited and triumphant expression on his countenance. A few sentences were exchanged among the party, in a low tone, as they stood for a moment near the front door. Then they separated, Mr. Mauvers courteously bowing tbem out, and securing the door after them. As he turned to retrace bis steps, the light he carried flared upon Leonard, who had now emerged from his retirement, and stood confronting him, anxiety and disquietude written upon his AlrtO A Ok W* , " You bere?at this hour!" exclaimed Mr. Man vers, angrily. "Why are you not in bed ?" "Father!" rejoined the boy, "I can ask you the same questions. Why do you spend every night in this strange manner ? I am sure something wrong must be going on. I have felt uneasy about it for a long time." He half believed, as he spoke, that his father would fly out into a paroxysm of rage at bis words; but to his surprise he stood quite still, only regarding his son with a slight, peculiar smile. "So your curiosity has overcome your discretion at last, has it?" he presently said. "Well, you are not a baby now. I suppose it is natural for you to form ideas and conjectures of your own. I think I will take you into ray confidence?so far, at all events, as to gratify your inqusitiveness, and set speculation at rest. Come with me." Bewildered, and apprehending he know not what startling disclosure, Leonard mechanically followed bis father to the door of the "mysterious room," which the latter pushed open, and with a motion of his hand invited him to enter. It was brilliantly lit up. The furniture by which it bad formerly been occupied had all been removed, except a few luxurious chairs, and to these others had been added. A new and elegant carpet covered the floor, and a single large mirror filled up the entire width of the wall at one end. A number of tables, covered witb green baize, were scattered about. On these lay various packs of cards, while beneath one of. them, other packs lay discarded?the apartment presented the appearance of a gaming-saloon. Leonard looked at his father in. mute inquiry and astonishment. .. . . .. "Does your understanding still require enlightenment?" asked Mr. Man vers. "You see those cards. You perceive that there are also dice and dice-boxes at hand. You are aware that I and some of my friends have been passing the evening?or the night, if you will?in this room. It will require no great effort of your mind to deduct from ! rttr, <-Ua IamiaaI nnnnlilctAn fKof XVCk KflVO Uiese lauto tuo lugiwiwuwuoiwu WJU? nv been amusing ourselves with play." "Do you play?only for amusement?" slowly asked Leonard. "Partljfor amusement, partly for our mutual benefit and advantage," rejoined his father, with a laugh. "I don't deny that various sums of money find their way from one of our pockets to another, once in a while. Without some little excitement of this sort, the game would lose its interest; don't you think so ?" "Then you mean to say that you gamble," said Leonard. "Well, yes ; that is about the sura-total of the matter, I suppose," was the careless reply. "You look rather shocked, Leonard. Does your innocent mind revolt at this confession ?" The covert sneer in these words, and the satirical smile by which the question was accompanied, brought a flush to Leonard's cheek, "i don't pretend to be very innocent, i father," he rejoined, "and I don't suppose I am any better than you." "Admirable modesty!" interrupted Mr. Manvers. "But still, continued the boy, "I should be sorry to think that through this new pastime of yours any body else should be made to suffer?any of our friends, I mean," he added ro. I witu tk oiuauj iuva av uio tut nuv *w~ collection of Mr. Orville's disturbed and pallid face still weighed upon him. "And why should you suppose such a contingency ?" asked Mr. Manvers, coolly returning the look. "Are we not all gentlemen, and do we not meet on common ground ? We are i all eqoally liable to suffer, for that matter; I, as well as any of my friends." "It seems strange that you should be willing to run so great a risk, when your losses have already been so heavy,' persisted Leonard. "Ah 1 but I may retrieve ray losses, don't ; you see??in part, at any rate. Some of the < men who belong to our club?men whom I think you are not acquainted with?are pro- < fessional players If they win, they are content; if they lose, they bear it philosophically. They are rich, immensely rich, and can afford to lose. I have already won money from 1 them, and can win more. I am lucky, Leonard, very lucky at play." < "So you think, father; but the tide may turn." I Mr. Manvers shrugged his shoulders. "It i may!?well, I can't help it. I must profit by 1 present good fortune, and make hay while the i sun shines. Look here, Leonard, would you i like to come in here sometimes and join us? < Your friend, Orville, is one of us. What he i does, you know must be all right. Only re- 1 collect, if I admit you, you are bound to si- 1 lence. I'll have no tales carried about to I nn wnn and ntlipp npnnlfl nf tlifi I I neighborhood." 1 < "Whom should I tell tales to?" asked the 1 boy, proudly. "You know I have no friends? I none, I mean, of my own age. Mr. Orville is ; my friend, and one or two other men whom I | have known from a child ; but companions I < have none." "So much the better. A lad of your spirit I would find little congeniality among the < youths of the parish?a parcel of soft-headed i milksops, without half the sense that you have. < You have more knowledge of the world, more I discrimination, than many men of twice your years; and I know you to be trustworthy, I else I should never have taken you into my < confidence now." This flattery was not without its intended effect upon Leonard. His nature, too, craved sympathy and affection, and responded readily to any friendly advar ce. His moral sense was sufficiently blunted by his mode of edu- ] cation not to be very keenly shocked by the ] revelation which his father had made to him; i and this proposal to admit him to the "club," as Mr. Manvere termed it, seemed to invest j him with a new importance, and offered a i temptation difficult to resist. i "Well, I'll come if you like, father," he ] said, after a moment or two, during which j Mr. Manvers was busyiug himself in extin- ] guishing the lights, and gathering up th? scattered cards, so as to give the tables a more orderly appearance. "Very well, ray boy and his father laid i his hand on his shoulder, more kindly than ] he had ever done before, Leonard thought. He bid him geod-night, and went to bed with i his mind in a tumult. A feverish excitemeut had taken possession of him, which for a i long time kept him tossing on his pillow ; , and it was not until daylight looked into his t windows that he fell into a profound sleep, which lasted until tha sun was high in the heavens. j Leonard joined the "club," and soon took a lively interest in his new and dangerous occupation. Mr. Orville shook his head when Brsthesaw him come iu, and said, sorrowfully, "Leonard, my boy, you oughtn't to he " I 11 ?v* n n mna fAA rv> llnll I nere; qui me puui gr;uuciu#u no* wIUuvu troubled by his own rffairs to give thought, i for any length of time, to other things. He had falleB lately into ,",n evil plight. He was too honorable, too high-minded himself to dream of foul play, or suspect that there existed a confederation against him?yet such, in sober truth, was the case. His so-called friend, the master of the house, had enlisted the aid of the exper with whom he had sworn fellowship, to ? !, into their own possession as much of 1 a money as could be coaxed out of his purs;. And so far had this scheme already prospered, that Mr. Orville, well-nigh rendered desperate by the losses he bad sustained, had become willing to hazard bank-stock, laud, houses, anything and everything he owned, on the chance of winniug back, at any rate, a part of what he had lost. Too many pens, more skilled than mine, have described the progress and success of schemes like this?the deep-laid plots of the destroyers, the easy credulity and ineffectual struggles of the victims, and the final triumphs of cunning and cruelty?for me to attempt a similar task. Under the guise of friendship and sympathy, Mr. Manvers continued to draw on his dupe, who lost more and more heavily, not to him, he believed, but to the other men, who were his secret confederates, and played into his hands; until at last theta came a night when the final stroke fell upon him, and he rushed from the house of his betrayer with a haggard face and a heart like stone, and a cry, "I am ruined and undone!" upon bis lips. There was a deeper cause for his misery than any one knew. He Had for years been secretly attached to a lady, whom he had known from his youth, and who was in every respect suited to him |and worthy of his love, the sole obstacle to their union lying in the fact that Bhe was bound to remain as the companion and nureeof an invalid mother, whom every' sentiment of duty and tenderness forbade her leaving to a stranger's care. Only a few days since the obstacle had been removed. A lately-widowed sister had returned from her distant home to resume her post by her mother's side, and now she was free to yield to her lover's wishes, and reward the devotion of years 1 Alas! simultaneously with this good news came the crash of ruin upon him. He felt, despairingly, that his Ellen might have consented to share honorable poverty with one she loved, but 'never could become a gambler's wife. Mr. Manvers, basely feigning the deepest sympathy for his friend's distress, inwardly gloated over the complete success he had achieved ; but retribution was at hand. The deceiver of an innocent victim, he himself now became a dupe. The rogues who had Bworn alliance with him, in turn betrayed him, and he found that his supposed gains were entirely in their hands, and at their disposal. Redress he had none?he was at the mercy of those even more unscrupulous than kimoolf whn hed not the nride of flrifltocranv to induce an outward show of probity and throw a veil over their real motives. The time for disguise being past, they showed themselves, without reserve, in their true form, as thieves and swindlers, and defied him to take his revenge. Baffled and frantic, what resource had he left ? He had no faith in God or in another world. His good name he knew to be forever destroyed, and no farther hope remained to him in life?therefore, his life was useless to him, and he resolved to throw it away. His servants found him, one morning, dead in his bed, lying in a pool of blood, with his throat cut from ear to ear. And Leonard ! Poor boy, his was, indeed, a pitiable case. Disgraced by his father's crimes, without a friend to turn to in the world, without a shilling he could call his own, he left the home where his vices had been nurtured, bis name dishonored and his prospects ruined, caring not whither his steps were turned, so long as it was in some direction where his name was unknown, and where he could feel himself free from the reproach of those with whom he might be forced to mingle. He made his way to Liverpool, and there shipped, as a common sailor, upon a merchant vessel bound for America; found himself, after a long and unpropitious voyage, in New York, worn out by fatigue and rough usage; took his wages to a garabliug house, jtaked Ihera all, quadrupled nis money, ana 3mharked for California, where he was told lie could get rich in six months by digging for gold. There he fell in with Heaven knows what a set of roughs, vagabonds and thieves?joined himself recklessly to their sompauy, and became nearly as wicked as themselves. Nearly as wicked?but not entirely so. Some mysterious restraining power pet lingered in his soul and kept him from going to the extent of license and of crime with which they were familiar. Perhaps a guardian angel, such as we are told are appointed to guide the footsteps of 3rring mortals into the right path, walked unseen, at his side, to keep the powers of Jarkness at bay, and save him from destruction irretrievable aud everlasting. Aud thus, for a time, we will leave him, hoping to meet him under more propitious 3ircu instances at some future day. CHAPTER IV. A BARONET IN DIFFICULTIES. Through a flowery Devonshire lane, on a pleasant spring afternoon, two men were slowly riding, engaged in earnest conversation as they went. One was an elderly gentleman of noble and prepossessing appearance, whose lofty brow ind handsome features wore an expression of deep sadness. His eyes were downcast, and his listless attitude, as well as his melancholy face, seemed to denote the dejection of his ? J? J miuu. His companion was evidently an inferior. His honest but rugged countenance was devoid of the refinement which characterized that of the first described personage, and his mauuer, combining unmistakable deference with a sort of sturdy dignity natural to it, marked the difference of rank between them. Equals they were not, but friends in the truest sense of the term. Roger Martin, born on the Lyndhurst estate, had filled the post of steward at Lyndhurst Towers for several years prior to the death of the late baronet, and when the present Sir John Lyndhurst came into possession, coutinued in the discharge of the same duties. He was Sir Johu's right hand, his tried and trusty counselor, endeared to him moreover by the ties of early companionship aud association. Some years his senior, he had been the comrade of the young heir in boyhood, had taught him to ride, to 3hoot, to swim, and been his leader in many a youthful exploit, while keepiug a watchful eye to his safety, and never allowing him to overstep the limits of prescribed rules. When the old bnrouet died, the boo, succeeding to the estate, could not divest himself of the sentiment which had grown aud strengthened with his years, of reliance upon Roger, aud continued to regard him with all his old boyish affection and esteem, deferring almost invariably to his opinion, and following his advice in all things pertaining to the management of bis affairs. Iu all things, save one; and this single exception had proved fatal to his prosperity. He had allowed himself, contrary to Roger's most strenuous counsel, to be entrapped into a gigautic speculation, which he was assured ? would double, perhaps treble, hie wealth. The v gigantic speculation proved, in the end? t which came all too quickly?to be nothing more nor less than a gigantic fraud. The un- n lucky baronet found himself brought to the e very verge of ruin, for so confident had he been of the success of the enterprise, that he o had staked enormous sums upon the venture, il and now had the mortification of beholding q them all swept away like cobwebs before a a blast of wind, himself a defenceless dupe, v and the perpetrators of the fraud, like his lost gold, vanished into invisibility. a Too late, he now bitterly repented having e scorned Roger's advice, and laughed at the penetration, far more acute than his own, ? which had from the very first detected the in- g security of the scheme. c This much being said, it becomes unneees- lj sary to explain from whence proceeded the c evident gloom which clouded the spirits of r Sir John, on this pleasant afternoon of May, fa which marks his first introduction to the no- e tice of the reader. c As they came in sight of the noble pile of Lyndhurst Towers, which, standing on a lofty b eminence, commanded an extensive view of y the neighboring oountry, the baronet raised ti his sad eyes, and fixed them, with a heavy t sigh, upon his beautiful home, around which } every fond association of his life was entwined. b "Roger," he exclaimed in an accent almost q of despair, "it will kill me to leave this b place 1" tl "Would to God there was no cause for your si doing so," rejoined Roger. "But, sir, you must try not to be so downhearted. Look to j, the future, and be hopeful. Who knows what ? good luck may yet be in store for you ?" "I shall not stay in this country," abruptly f> continued the baronet, after a pause, during j which he had been struggling to conquer the u emotion which nearly overmastered him. "If Q I am forced to quit Lyndhurst, I shall quit j, England also, for it will not be large enough t| to hold me and the new possessor of my fath- tj er's estate." A "Quit England 1" echoed old Martin in as- g tonishraent. "Surely, you can't be in earnest, j Sir John ?" p "Why not?" Better men than I have gone f, abroad, to try their fortunes in a new country," rejoined his master, with rising excitement in c his eye and voice. "See here, Roger, this gj idea, which lately presented itself to my mind, ^ has been rapidly gaining strength, and impressing itself more and more forcibly upon a me. Last night I lay awake for hours, think- Q ing it over, and the longer 1 considered it tne g( more rational it appeared. Here, as you well ^ know, I can never, never retrieve my lost for- ^ tune?and I can't endure the idea of sinking into the insignificant position I should inevitably be forced to occupy when once my down- Q fall became known. Sir John Lyndhurst, j( rich aud prosperous, or believed to be so, has many friends; Sir John Lyndhurst, cast into ^ poverty, will find that friendship is but a j name." j "I wouldn't give a fig fer the friendship of ^ such as them who would desert you in your misfortunes," said Martin, bluntly. "But I think you are greatly mistaken sir, if you fan- ^ cy that you have no friends of a better sort." "Perhaps I may have a few, scattered here w and there; but the majority of thoBe with 0 whom I have hitherto been so popular will fall off? see if they do not 1 And I confess J' I have always liked popularity?it is a weak- ei ness of mine, Roger, I cannot deny it." 11 Martin already knew this, well enough; ? for what foible of the baronet's existed with which he waa not acquainted ? He did not ^ enter upon a discussion of this point, howev- ai er, but returned to the original topic. ^ "If you ever left England, Sir John, as ai you speak of doing?though I can't help fan- 111 eying you would change your mind when it actually came to the point?where in the world would you go?" ,VI "There are places enough to choose from. I should prefer, of course, to go to a new rl country?Australia, for example, or some Dl part of America." ^ "I thought Australia was a place only fit ^ for convicts and Buch-like," muttered Martin. "It's a place for making money?for sheepraising, and gold-digging, and plenty of other things besides." ^ "And how about the dear, blessed children, ^ Sir John?would you be for turning them in- J11 to the bush, and making little savages out of ,e them ?" "Oh, nonsense I" rejoined the baronet with c' some impatience. "They could remain in England at school, I suppose, until I had 8C made a suitable home for them out there." "They'd never be a moment happy away *c fpnm vnn. nir: no more than VOU could be 88 J "* ' ? ' ? # . without them. Miss Evelyn, in particular, ?' would mope herself to death, shut up in a ?' dreary 9chool. 8* "Then I shall take them with me, tbat'B di all. I can do it easily enough. But if the pi notion of Australia horrifies you, what do you say to America ? There is civilization bi euough to be found there." "Among the Yankees," said Martin, do- ? biously. "I never had much opinion of thrnn." ^ "They are not all Yankees; and, besides, tl what do you know about them ?" asked the a' baronet, vexed at Roger's not falling more readily into his views. He had built up the tl vision of self-expatriation, resulting in re- ic newed prosperity, crowned in the future by a triumphant return to bis native land and the w regaining of his cherished home and birth- ai place, as a consolation to himself in his mis- ai fortunes. And it was very trying to him to ki see his air-castle thus demolished by the cold breath of mistrust. fe "I don't know much about them, except gi what I've read," Martin allowed. But I believe they are a sharp set, too fond of ma- lii king money themselves to give outsiders fair H play at the same game." at "Yet there are uumbers of outsiders, as you call them, who have gone there and prosper- ly ed ; men of every nation, tribe and degree te under the sun. It is a large place, Roger? an immense field. Why should I not stand si] as good a chance of success there as any oth- st er man ?" se "In the first place, sir, what could you ps do?" asked Martin, resolved to set the ques- se tion in a practical light. "You can't turn ci busiuess man and go into a counting-house at gi your age. And if you could, how would such sii drudgery suit you ?" fa "It is too late for me to learn business, I th admit," replied Sir John. "But I was think- la ing of0soraething different?of turning plan- h< ter, for instance, in one of the Southern States, th I would have money enough left from the io rreck here to buy a plantation, and hire all be labor I might want." "It would be money throwo away, sir, and nay-be health, too. Think of something lse." "Well, I have a different idea from either f those, but I have reserved the mention of t for the last, supposing it would shock you [uite as much as the Australian one. How bout California, witb its newly-opened and ponderful sources of wealth?the mines ?" "Good Lord, sir I Would you take a pick nd shovel, and descend into the bowels of the arth ?" "By no means. I am, unfortunately, not it for severe labor," said Sir John, with a lance of regret at his delicate hands. "But annot you understand that a person estabished in the vicinity of those mines, gaining orrect information from reliable sources in egard to them, might be enabled to invest lis property so judiciously as to increase it normously in the course of a few years ? I n aruvMilatp if T cannot work." "Yes, sir, you can speculate?and you can ?e ruined," rejoined Martid~doggedly. "Ain't ou tired of speculating by this time ? Lose be little you will have left out of thit, and ell me what is to become of Miss Rose and liss Evelyn ?" "But I shall not lose it, I tell you 1 I shall * very cautious?risk nothing. I may treble, uadruple my money ; increase it perhaps a und red-fold 1 It is for my children's sakes, bat I am bent upon taking Borne decisive tep. I mud provide for their future." "Do you think the poor things would be appy, sir, taken away from their home and at down in a strange, wild country ?" "Their home is Lyndhurst Once banished rom its walls, what other tie binds them to England ?" asked the baronet, in a husky tone. You were trying to prove to me a few mintes ago, that their happiness consisted in be]g with me. They are too young to 6nd ransplantation as trying a process as it is to aose of larger growth'?as it will be to me, )r instance, notwithstanding my present aruments in its favor. Heavens and earth, toger, you don't suppose that I find the prosect an agreeable one, do you ? Am I acting rom choice, or from necessity ?" The point on which we differ, sir, is the neessitv for acting as you propose to do. Conider the sacrifice, the immense sacrifice of aparating yourself from your own country, our own people, giving up all old habits, old Bsociations, beginning life afresh, and you o longer young. Why, sir, if ray memory jrves me right, you'll be fifty-two next fichaelraas ; there's more than two-thirds of lie allotted portion of man's life already If one. "Well, and what of that ? Supposing I nly live for the remaining third, or not so rag; in twenty, fifteen, ten years, or even )88,1 may amass a sufficient fortune to enale me to return and end my days in England. Lecollect moreover, if you please, that the jyndhursts are a long-lived race. My father ied at eighty, my grandfather at ninety-one, oth in full possession of their faculties. My reat-grandfather lived to be nearly a hunred. Should I follow their example, that ould give me ample time for the execution f my plans." "According to your own showing, sir, ten ears has been cut off" of each succeeding genration. However, if you stayed at home, lost likely you'd live as long as any of them, tut I don't put faith in those treacherous ireign climates. Look at my youngest broier, who went to India at thirty-five, as hale nd hearty a fellow as any you could meet. a teo years be was an old man, broken down ud unfit for work. It was all from the cliiate, nothing more nor less." "But California and India are widely difrent places, my good Roger, and there is a ist difference in their climates. California healthy, the soil is fertile, the climate va- j ed, and in many places delightful. The i atural resources of the country are positive- i ' amazing. I must give you a treatise on le subject, to read in your leisure hours." "I don't care about it, thank you, sir?I'll ike your description instead, if you like to , ve it. But this I do say?I don't believe , iere'8 any country in the world, old or new, i tat can equal Old England, for climate, ] jalth, fertility, natural wbat-do-vou-call- * ms, or anything else?that's my honest opin- ' n, sir, and I'm afraid I can't make myself j lauge it, even to suit your notions." The conclusion of this speech might have < luuded rather rude, had it issued from less j .miliar lips, but Sir John was well accus- 1 iraed to his companion's manner; and he ] iw now by the queer contortions of the bluff . d face, and the hasty jerks which Martin ave the bridle of his horse, that the faithful i eward was anxious to bring to a close the | iscussion of a subject fraught with so much 1 ain to them both. T >?!?>. Ulokon/I nn fVio /\1/1 man's arm fVia ' juajr lug mo iiauu uu vuo viu ujhu w mkm?| aronetsaid kindly? "My hardest task will be to part from you, ,oger. Indeed, I can hardly trnst myself to link of it; but, unhappily, that is a misforine which is now inevitable, whether I go broad or remain at home." "Humph !"grunted Roger, and clearing his iroat, he presently exclaimed, in a would-be idiffereut tone? "I think, Sir John, if you'll excuse me, e'd better be riding faster; twilight's falling, id the young ladies will be expecting you? id your cold is still troublesome, you DOW." They put their horses into a canter, and a w minutes more brought them to the Park ite8. "Here I'll leave you, sir," said the steward, Fting his hat. "I promised to ride over to 'ale's cottage before night. I'll see you jain after supper, if agreeable to you." "By all means. I shall expect you as ear- j as convenient," was the reply, as his mas r rode off in the direction of the house. 1 Coming within view of the lawn, a pretty 3 ght met therfather's eye. On the marble - eps, descending from the front door, was as- l rabled a group that would have charmed a ' iinter. Two beautiful young girls, one ^ ated higher than the other, while on the ? iris of the lowest rested a wreath of freshly s ithered flowers, placed there in sport by her 1 3ter's hand. The two laughing, glowing c ces were turned toward each other, and at ' $ f ieir feet crouched a huge Newfoundland, bis rge, intelligent eyes fixed upon them, while * i gently wagged his feathery tail in sympa- s y with their merriment, apparently entering g to it as fully as they did themselves. s jjp&r "There's papa!" cried the elder girl joy- j fully ; and children and dog sprang np si- 1 multaneously and rushed forward to welcome him. "A ride, papa, a ride 1" eagerly exclaimed Evelyn, the younger, seizing bis bridle as be dismounted, while Rose more quietly returned his caress. "Not to-night, love, it is too late?feel the dew, how chilly it is. You should not be out without your hats, children, your curls are quite damp. Run in now, and have the study lighted. We'll take our tea in there, this, evening, and Roger is coming to me afterwards." And a few minutes later, the study was echoing with careless chatter and gay laughter, as though no threatening clouds overhung ?vAim nooamKlo/1 fDlthin itfi Vdllfl. IUO UVMO gIUU|/ ?goviMV?W%* ntiuiu ?mmm WW mm mm*,. A [TO BE CONTINUED.] t ?L?? HisKctlaueouis fading. THE TELEPHONE. The telephone itself is a simple affair, and one which every person acquainted with the electric telegraph would understand at sight The instrument consists of a powerful, compound, permanent magnet, to the poles of which are attached ordinary coils of insulated wire. In front of the poles, surrounded by these coils of wire, is placed a diaphragm of iron, while a mouth-piece to concentrate the sound upon this diaphragm substantially completes the arrangement When the human voice causes the sensitive diaphragm to vibrate, electrical undulations are induced in v the coils surrounding the magnets precisely ^ in the same manner as the undulations of the E air are produced by the voice. These undolations then travel through the wire, and passing through the coils of an instrument of ?, similar construction at a longer or shorter dis- a tance, as the case may be, are again trans- ^ formed into air undulations by the diaphragm a of the instrument It will be born m mind ^ that the voltaic battery is dispensed with en- ^ tirely, and all that is needed for> transmitting -j the voice sounds are the instruments and the telegraph wire. In this connection a remark- ? able peculiarity of the telephone is that a j practiced ear is able to distinguish the voices ? that speak through the instrument. The in- ^ ventor claims that as any effect produced by ^ electricity over a short wire, can with equal q facility be produced over one of 100 or 1,000 ^ miles in length, provided the insulation be v good, so can the electric wave of the telephone ^ be perfected to render free and easy the c sounds generated by the human voice to any ^ length. In fact, with such advances as the g: system has made of late, there would seem to Q bis no limit to which it may be put,and the ^ practical advantages likely to result from it. ^ The invention is now in its infancy, but no ^ doubt it will soon astonish the world by what 1, it may be able to do. a* It is probable that among the first practi- c cal uses to which the telephone will be put, t; will be its use by several of those railroads y that have special wires used only for railroad purposes. Next, private banking houses and c large manufacturing establishments, etc., will tj find it advantageous to use the telephone. It ? is well known that the expense and trouble of c batteries and keeping them in order has been "j] one of the main items in the account of tele- j graphing, and with the present system expert ^ operators are required. Under the system of g telephony the cost of constructing the line and putting in the instrument is all, and the g affair is permanent so long as the wires and 2 poles shall last. The invention will be won- ? derfully economical, to say the least, as well ^ as more exDeditious and easier to learn to op- a erate than the present system of telegraphy. ? This invention will not only be a decided im- ?| proveraent, but may exert a powerful influ- C( ence in breaking up the telegraph monopoly and reducing rates to a lower scale than that now in vogue. j Respecting the adaptation of the invention 0j to long distances, the late experiments war- cj rant the belief that it can be made to answer g, all the purposes of the telegraph either under 0, the ocean or across the land. The arti6cial resistance employed in the experiment be- m tween Boston and Salem, as already hinted, c] was much greater than an equivalent of the ^ length of the wire between New York and 8 San Francisco or the Atlantic cable. In fact, ? the inventors hope soon to talk through the m cable and send their compliments to queen 7* Victoria.? Graphic. e, ? g] Krupp's Steel Works in Germany.? fu For half a century the world-renowned cast gg Ueel manufactory near Essen, has been con- m ducted by Alfred Krupp. The magnitude of these works at this time will be better comprehended when it is stated that they give 8t employment to 15,500 men, more than 10,000 w of whom are immediately employed in the ^ manufacture of axles, wheels, tires and crossings for railways, rails and springs for rail- ^ ways and mines, shafts for steamers, machin- w ery, boiler-plates, rolls, Bpring steel, tool-steel, ^ guns, gun-carriages and projectiles. At the m mines and blast-furnaces 5,000 additional gc workmen have constant employment The jE firm operates 250 smelting furnaces, 390 an Dealing furnaces, 161 beating fornaces, 116 " welding and puddling furnaces, 33 cupola and reverberating furnaces, 116 furnaces for other ' purposes, 275 coke-ovens, 264 smiths' forges ^ and 298 steam boilers. Connected with the works are 77 steam ^ hammers and 294 steam engines, aggregating ei more than 10,000 horse power. To lodge the 8j| afficers, workmen and their families, 8,277 Iwellingsare furnished, affording accommoda- ?f tion to 15,200 inhabitants. Other dwellings ^ at the mines and smelting works give shelter ^ to 2,200 more, while boarding-bouses are prorided for 2,200 unmarried workmen. The n( sanitary condition of the workmen and their families is amply provided for. A bathing cc establishment, two hospitals, under the care te )f competent physicians, and a disinfecting j house for the beds and clothes of the sick, are Q( maintained. A sick, burial and pension fnnd m has been instituted for the benefit of work- w men, to which the firm contributes an amount ^ equal to one-half the contributions paid in by members. Besides a life-insurance associa- j ;ion, the firm have organized an excellent icholastic system, four of the industrial schools jQ or girls and women being maintained at their W| expense. The works were first founded in ^ L810, but have been under the present man- ta tgement for the past fifty years. ^ Benefit of being Knocked About.?It s a good thing for a young man to be "knock- th id about in the world," although his soft- .til learted parents may not think so. All nc souths, or if not all, certainly nineteen-twen- be ieths of the sum total, enter life with a sur- as )lusage of self-conceit. The sooner they are th elieved the better. If, in measuring them- su lelves with wiser and older men than them- fr< elves, they discover that it is unwarranted, st< ind get rid of it gracefully and of their own er iccord, well and good; if not, it is desirable, at: 'or their own sake, that it should be knocked fa >ntof them. hi A boy who is sent to a large school soon ar inds his level. His will may have been par- to imount at home; but school boys are demo* ou iratic in their ideas, and if arrogant, he is ne ure to be thrashed into a recognition of the he ;olden rule. The world is a great public w( chool, and it soon teaches a new pupil his D >roper place. If he has the attributes that >elong to a leader, he will be installed into he position of a leader; if notr whatever his iwn opinion of his abilities, he will be com* >elled to fill back into the rank and file. If lot destined to greatness, the next best thing o which he can aspire is respectability; but 10 man can be truly great or truly resjpecta>le who is vain, pompous and overbearing. By the time the novice has found his legitmate social position, be the same high or * ow, the probability is the same disagreeable raits of character will be softened down and rorn away. Most likely the procew of abralion will oe roygh, perhaps very rough, but rhen it is all over, and be begins to see himlelf as others see him, and not as reflected in Ka mim. a# oal^MnMU ha brill Kb thankful IUV UllilVA Vi OVii-WUWiV) -v nmm hv hat he has ran the gauntlet, and arrived hrough by a rough roaa of knowledge. Upon the whole,-whatever loving mothers nay think to the contrary, it is>a good thing or yonths to be knocked about in the world. X makes men of them. CELLING WOKEN AT CONSTANTINOPLE. The Paris Oaulou correspondent accompatied an Egyptian friend and his valet in a ferriage to the mosque of the Saltan Matomet, at which ppint they turned into narow and complicated streets, which finally >ecame impassable. They alighted bqfore a ?ile of mud which could be crossed only on 001. Beaching the house, they were introluced into the selamlik, or chamber, reserved or male visitors. Here they found the slave lealer standing, a short pipe in his hand. He ras a little old Tripolitan, Qassirgi-MessoudIga by name. He has followed the business or forty years. After the customary saiutaions, pipes and ooflbe were offered and taken nth the silence usual to orientials before any msiness transaction. An ebony young euinch soon entered and whispered in Meeoud's ear. The latter made a sign of aouiescence, and turning to the guests, said : Bouyouroun" (permit me). The guests rose nd followed him into a room of the harem. L long divan, about a foot and a half high nd four feet wide, surrounded three sides of be chamber. An excavation in the wall eld the cushions and coverings used at night lie floor was covered with mats and loose ieces of carpet Upon the divan were seat* d, side by side, two white girls from Circasia, in the dress of their country. Opposite rere throe other women, one of whom was rhite, from Georgia, and the others black. Lll arose as the visitors entered. One of the )ircassians seemed, scarcely 14. She had right, ohestnut hair, long, dark eye-lashes, rhich shaded eyes of liquid blue; a light, rell-rounded form and regular features, over* ast with melancholy. She was a beauty of be first-class. Her companion, aged 18, was lightly less beautiful, but was a performer n the kemendja or Turkish violin. In adition, she was recommended as a good cook, Bamstrees, and washer. Her brown hair fell e her knees. She looked at the visitors cools', and fixed her eyes on the Egyptian with n expression that seemed to ask him to pur* hase her. At a sign from Messoud, one of be black girls disrobed the Circassians. This ras not a complicated process, as their dress m simply a tunic, a pair of trousers, and a hemise. The younger seemed distressed; be other simply fixed her eyes upon the oor. Messoud, passing bis hands over them, ailed jattentioiLto their good pointa, andmade bera show their regular, pearly teetL He welt also on the strict decorum of their an* ^cedents. After an examination of theGeorian and a glance at the black girls, the par* ?j. J .1 1?I:L. ti... y returueu wu uuc evmuiiik hj vivoo nun umain. The youngest Circassian was auoted at 00 pounds Turkish, the elder at 130 and the leorgian at 120. The Egyptian found them )o high-priced, and took one of the black iris for 38 pounds. He simply wanted a ouse-servant. The sale being completed, le party were again served with pipes and iffee, and left the house. Illustrations op Canine Intelligence. 'ew persons, writes Bayard Taylor, are aware F the great effect which quiet speeches exerse upon the most savage dog. A distiniiished English poet told me that he was ice walking in the country with Canon Kingey, when they passed a lodge where an intense and fierce mastiff, confined by a long lain, rushed upon them. They were just lyond his reach, but the chain did not seem icure; tha poet would have hurried past, but jngsley, laying a hand upon his arm, said, Wait a moment and see me subdue him 1" hereupon he walked up to the dog, who, ect upon his hind feet, with open jaws and laring eyes, was the embodiment of animal try. Kingsley raised his hand and quietly dd, "You are wrong 1 You have made a istake; you must go back to yoor own snnel!" The dog sank down upon his fore feet, but ill growled angrily; the Canon repeated his orda in a nrm voice, advancing step oj step ) the dog gave way. He continued speaking rave reproof as if to a human being, until he id forced the mastiff back into his kennel, here the latter silently, and perhaps remorseilly, lay down. I cannot tell whether I relembered this story, or acted simply from a iddeh instinct, in a very similar case. I was i Ban Francisco, and went to call upon a mtleman of my acquaintance, who lived pon Rincon Point The house stood a little (stance back from the street, in a beautiful irden. I walked up between clumpe of yrtle and fuchsia to the door, and rang the ill. Instead of an answer there was a savje bay; a giant dog sprang around the corn of the house, and rushed at me with every gn of furious attack. I faced him, stood still, and said: "I am a iendofMr.?-, and have come to visit im. You must not suppose that I mean any irm. r'shall wait to see if the bell is angered ; you may stay and watch me. I am >t afraid of you." The animal paused, lisned intently, but was evidently not entirely mvinced ; he still growled and showed his eth in rather an alarming manner. Then said: "I shall ring once more; if there is > answer, I shall go away." He followed e up the steps to the door, glared fiercely bile I rang, and would undoubtedly have isbed at my throat had I made a suspicious eture. As no one came to the door, I finalsaid : 'T see there is nobody at home, so I all go, as I told you I would." His growlg ceased ; side by side we went down the ilk, and when I had closed the gate he turnI away with a single dignified wave of the il, which I understood as a combined apolor an/1 famaall A Child or a Beggar.?It is easy to know e knock of a beggar at one's door. Low, Bid, hesitating; it seems to say?"I have ) claim on the kindness of this house; I may i told I come too often; I may be treated a troublesome and unworthy mendicant; e door may be flung in my face by some rly servant." How different on his "return jm school, the loud knocking and bounding sp, the joyous rush of the child to his filth's presence, and as he climbs on his knee, id flings his arm around his neck, the bold ce and ready tongue with which he reminds b father of a promised favor. Now, why e God's people bold ? To a Father in Goa, an elder brother in Christ, faith conducts ir steps in prayer j , therefore in an hour of ed, faith, bold of spirit, raises her suppliant inds and cries to God, "Oh 1 that Thoa juldst rend the heavens and come down."?* r. Guthrie.