Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, Proprietor. [ Jnbejjenbtni Jfamilj gtttespsptr: Jan|t % political, jSocial, ^griralinral aai Commercial Interests of % 5oal|. |tbrms--$3.00 a YEAR, in advance. I "* -iC, 1 1 : f : . VOL. 25. YORKYILLE, S. C., THTJR??-Ay, MAY 1, 1879. NO. 18. ? , Jjw Original Jfarg. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. RACHEL RAY'S SECRET. CHAPTER I. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learned to stray; Along the cool sequestered vale of life They kept the uoiseless tenor of their way. Gray's "Elegy." Drowsieville was just the aiaintest, soberest, oldest fashioned little pltetfTo the world; inubat portion of the world, at least, of which the writer has any knowledge. I recollect thinking, the first time I went there, that everybody must be asleep, or ill, or in affliction ; for the green blinds (all the houses had green blinds) were all closed, and the few people I met in the streets, walked along with a slow gait and serious air, looking very much preoccupied indeed, and scarcely glanced at me, though I was a stranger in the town. It was not exactly a town either, and yet the inhab^ itants would not have it called a village. They were rather an independent set, these Lrowsieviliians, and held themselves and their surroundings in high estimation, resenting anything iD the shape of a slight, and believing themselves to be quite equal to the rest of the world. They had a school, presided over by a worthy pedagogue, in whom they placed such implicit confidence that they wouldn't have sent their children anywhere else to be educated ; no, not if Minerva herself had counseled them to do so. They had a church (a meeting-house rather?they were old-time Methodists, and didn't believe in churches) where the preacher did doty in an orthodox fashion, getting up a littleenthusiasm in the prayers sometimes, but generally putting the congregation to sleep with his sermons, which all the older members knew by heart. They had a public hall, where they held temperance meetings, charity iairs, and Sabbath-school sociables ; aud where, on one memorable occasion, a concert bad been given by some traveling musicians, which was attended by every man, woman, child and baby in the community. They had everything, in v fact? that was reasonable, rational and desirable?and yet, melancholy to relate, among the , younger residents something of the progressive spirit of the age, a whiff of the atmosphere of the outer world, was beginning secretly to circulate, though how it ever got there, or how these younger residents came to know that there was any outer world at all, was a mystery not to be fathomed, unless it was through the medium of the "Drowsieville Gazette," which, though treating chiefly of home affairs, did occasionally startle its read* ers with a paragraph relating to matters elsewhere. The editor of the Gazette was, in fact, looked upon as a very adventurous individual, and when, one morning, the paper came out with the account of an elopement in a neighboring county, actually giving the names of the parties concerned, many were the heads shaken -over it, and old Mr. Towzleham, the chief authority in matters, both religious and secular, went to the printing office and told .. xL-x :r U tied at all." "Yes; that is a self-evident fact," laughed Lucy. "Nevertheless, I am puzzled to account * for it. Of all places under the sun?now, Becky, don't look as if you thought it treason f. _ to talk so. I believe you agree with me in your heart of hearts." "I like it well enough," said Rebecca, in a matter-of-fact way. "I ought to like it, because I don't know anything about anywhere % ^ else ; 34? d all my family are here." "Excellent reasons, no doubt; but though they apply equally to me, I am not satisBed with them. I wish I had your tranquil, contented disposition," said Lucy, with a little ?' sigh. "Heigh-ho!?there comes Dr. Carver ; bftj- wonder if he has any important case on hand, yF he's walking so fast." L Lirectly after, Dr. Carver, a pleasant look> ing, gentlemanly individual, with a florid complexion, and hair and whiskers slightly tinged with gray, stopped to accost the pair. "Good-day, young ladies! Have vou heard s any tidings of old Mr. Lullem since noon ?" he asked briskly. Mr. Lullem was the minister. "Tidings!" echoed both girls together; and Lucy continued, "We don't know what you mean." "What! haven't you heard of his seizure? But I forgot, it probably occurred after you left for school. He had a paralytic attack about nine o'clock this morning. Not a fatal one, I trust; but one which is likely to incapacitate him for some time from the performance of his duties. I remained with him for a couple of hours after I was called in, and then having restored him, as far as was possible, to something like his normal condition, I left to visit some other patient#*, and am now just on my way to see him again." This was news to the two friends, and gave scope fur a good deal of talk, and many eager questions to the doctor, who turned and walked a little way with them, notwithstanding his haste. A close obsever might have1 remarked that he addressed himself, in his replies, chiefly to Lucy; and also that in crossing the street he slipped adroitly round to her side, though he had been next to Rebecca at first. In fact, it did not need very acute observation to discover that this young lady possessed no ordinary attraction for him; but whether she reciprocated his liking would not have been so easy to determine. "Here we are at your house, Becky," Lucy said demurely, as they reached a comfortable looking domain, the house painted white, with the inevitable green blinds, and a white fence enclosing a gay strip of garden in front. "I think I'll come in with you for a minute or two." "Going in, Miss Lucy ?" asked the doctor, with evident disappointment. "I thought? that is, I would have walked on as far as your father's with you. I should have liked to see him on a little matter of business." "Well, you will find him in, I dare say," rejoined Lucy. "But I thought you were going to Mr. Lullem's." "So I am ; I'll come round to your house later. It won't do to neglect the old gentleman, though his case isn't really a bad one, you know. Well, good-bye, young ladies; my compliments to your folks, Miss Rebecca? an revere, as they say in French." Lucy laughed quietly to herself, as she walked into Widow Carey's orderly parlor. Perhaps it was at the doctor's French; perhaps at some thought that floated through her mind. Becky did not laugh; but she had not as keen a sense of humor as her friend, and moreover she was not as good a scholar. Lucy did not pay much of a visit. Though pressed to stay to dinner, she only waited until she felt sure that Dr. Carver was well out of the way before starting for her own Home. "Well, I'll see you at sewing circle," said Rebecca with a staid parting kiss; "that is, I suppose Mr. Lullem's sickness won't make any difference, as it isn't- very bad'." "On the contrary, I have no doubt there will be a larger meeting than usual," responded Lucy. "So I won't say good-bye, but only au revere, my dear." "Lucy seems rather funny this afternoon," remarked Rebecca placidly to her mother, as she was cutting thick bread and-butter for the children's plates, before sitting down to dinner. "How so ?" asked Mrs. Carey. "Oh 1 well?I can't define it, exactly ; only she seems a little?not precisely dissatisfied? and a little critical on things?and people." "Oh !" said Mrs. Cary, accepting this not very clear statement, as she did most of Rebecca's, without comment. "Becky, my dear, be careful not to let Tommy have any jam for dessert; he complained of headache a while ago, and I have no doubt it's from acid?no doubt at all." "Jam would scarcely hurt him, would it? especially blackberry jam," said Rebecca. "However, it's just as you think ; and I dare say he will like rice-pudding as well 1" Lucy walked leisurely homeward, fanning herself with her large straw hat; for the sidewalk was quite shady, and, in Drowsieville, conventionality did not require that young ladies should keep on their hats unless they felt disposed to do so. Many thoughts were surging in her brain. It was quite true, as Rebecca had declared, that on this day she was a little different from usual. There was a restless feeling at her heart, an indefinite craving after something, she knew not what, above and beyond her present surroundings. What had given her this feeling, she knew not, she scarcely realized that it was there, but it influenced her all the same, and destroyed her usual tranquil content. "How I envy Becky," she thought to herself, recalling the serene composure of her friend, which nothing could ruffle. "She is always the same?never has moods and vagaries like other people ; never looks for anything out of thfe common round of life, and, I suppose, will go on contentedly just in the same way?except for leaving school?to the day of her death. Or she might marry. That would be a change; but not much of one after all. She would only be keeping her own house instead of her mother's, and having pretty much the same drudgery to go through. Why won't Dr. Carver ask her to marry him, I wonder ?*' At this stage of her reflections, a conscious smile dimpled her cheek. "She likes him?and he's a nice sort of man, I'm sure. He would make her an excellent husband ; and he's getting rich fast, father says. Susan could take her place at home, and it would be a good thing for her to get settled. I wonder who will take Mr. Lullem's place now ?" Here her thoughts took a jump. "It will be funny to see anybody else in his place. Poor old man ! I for one don't admire his preaching much. I'd like something that would wake me up a little more; but of I'm TTflj.tr onrrtr fVlof VlO aVlAlllft hp siplr UUUiOC, JL 1U ouitj) vuuv ?iv vuvm.v. wV v?w-. I wonder if Minnie will be at sewing-circle; she'll tell us all about him. Talk about waking up. Anything that would wake one up in this poky little hole would be acceptable. Poor old Drowsieville ! Of course it's my home, as Becky says, and all that; but still? I wish it was just a little different. Oh! dear, I don't know what I wish; I am out of sorts to-day, I suppose." This mood was still hanging about her as she entered Mrs. Philipson's parlor, at precisely five o'clock ; the hour at which the sewing society engaged, in summer, to meet. The room, which was a spacious one, was already full. Mr. Lullem's sudden attack formed a theme for conversation too interesting for all the members not to be anxious to take their share in it. Minnie Lullem, his tne eauor mat u, iu iuiuic, ou^u uugiu?.?ui reading-matter was notsuppressed, be, for one, would withdraw his subscription, and that he knew of others who would not hesitate to follow his example. Mr. Quillman, the editor, was a meek man, and immediately promised not to commit a similar offence again ; and as he faithfully kept his word, the rising genera tion, who had greatly relished this small scrap of scandal, were obliged to content themselves with preserving copies of the obnoxious.edition, and reading them over in private until the print was well-nigh effaced. This was terrible depravity, as every right-minded person will allow; but then, as I said before, these young people, in some incomprehensible manner, had received a taint of the spirit of the age, which, I fear, only wanted a favorable opportunity to manifest itself. "Are you going to sewing-circle this afternoon?" asked Rebecca Cary of her. chum, Lucy Melton, as they leisurely walked from school together one summer's day. "Yes, I suppose so," was the reply. "Mother always likes ire to go; but it has been pretty dry lately, don't you think so ?" .?T-v -L _ ? i._ J T>?U Lsry as cuipa, usscuicu lwcuotta. uuu it's a little better at Mrs. Philipson's than at other places; one gets sponge cake and lemonade there, at any rate." "And one does, occasionally, hear a little news," added Lucy. "Do you know, Becky, I think Laura Philipson must be going somewhere. She gave a bint to-day of something of the kiod, and I have noticed that she has looked unusually bright lately." "So have I. Where can she be going, do you think?" > "I don't know, unless it is to some school. She is so advanced, you know; and I really * don't think Mr. Fell can teach her anything more." "Why doesn't she stop, then ?" asked Re3^ becca. "Oh! because her mother thinks so much of education; and I think she wants to be a teacher herself, some time. I wonder, Becky," continued Lucy, in a meditative tone, "what ever brought the Philipsons to this place ?" "Why, I suppose they fancied it," said Rebecca. "Scarcely. They don't seem suited to it, somehow, or it to them. And it's odd that any one who wasn't born in Drowsieville should ever choose to come here to live." "Somebody must have started the place who wasn't born here," said Rebecca; "otherwise I don't see that it would have been set grand-daughter, was not present, and therefore every one could freely discuss the case. It was universally conceded that it was very distressing?so sudden, such an nnlooked for calamity; yet underlying all the sympathy and regrets was au agreeable vein of excitement, and of interesting speculation regarding his successor. Lucy sat a little apart, more silent than was her wont. She could not talk fluently even upon thin subject. Laura Philipson, a tall and rather handsome girl, showily, if not fashionabl; dressed, was a ? ' * i -a r great authority. She had heen round 10 iur. Lullem's and had had a long talk with Minnie, and so of course knew all about the case. Laura was the centre of attraction, and therefore in her element. People asked her all sorts of questions; what had Minnie Baid, and how had Minnie looked, and wasn't she dreadfully broken down by the shock, poor child, and so on; and she had elaborate and comprehensive replies for all, dwelling particularly on what she had said to Minnie, and how she had comforted her before she left. Lacy always thought that Laura talked like a dictionary. She was in truth rather too fond of using long words, and words not in common use, and therefore passed for being very learned. "And doesn't Minnie know who's likely to take her grand-pa's place, my dear?" asked old Miss Dorsy, the President of the society, who was fonder of news than attending to her work. . "Indeed, Miss Dorsy, I do not think that poor Minnie has turned her thoughts to that question. They are concentrated at present on her grandfather's distressing situation, to the exclusion of all minor considerations," gracefully replied Laura. "Ah! she's a good girl, is Minnie," piped little Miss Trigott "If some smart young minister would come along, now, and marry 1 J L.xL ? l: UU *U? nU ner, ana uom uu em uvo wuu mc u?u muU and keep bouse for him, 'twould be a nice arrangement What was the name of that likely young man who was along here a couple of summers ago?" "Lor, Miss Trigott, he was married," cried a chorus of voices. "Oh! was'he? I'm sure I forget. Well, there's hopes of another coming, now the place is vacant. All of you girls will be setting your caps at him, I s'pose, and then there will be pretty work. But I hope Minnie will be the lucky one." Laura Pbilipson raised her handsome brows disdainfully, and whispered to her next neighbor that Miss Trigott talked so much about marriage, she must be thinking of entering the matrimonial state herself. And so the idle tittle-tattle went on, the fingers moving scarcely as fast as the tongues, (everybody knows bow the tongues of a sewing circle tan run on), and by-and-by a tray was brought in with the welcome refreshments, and there was a brief lull while Laura cut the sponge cake, and was assisted by the younger girls to hand it and the lemonade around. Suddenly there was a knock at the front door ; a timid knock, so gentle that it was twice repeated ere it attracted anybody's notice. Lucy was the first to hear it. She glanced out of the window, then said to the hostess? "Mrs. Philipson, there's a lady standing .ekull T Annn fkn r?AA?? 9" UUUMUC ouail X bUV uwt * "Do, if you please, Miss Lucy. I thought everybody was here." "It's a stranger, I think," said Lucy, as she moved to the door. It was a stranger; a young and delicatelooking woman, dressed in deep mourning, with a pale face and a pair of frightened dark eyes, that met Lucy's wistfully. "Is this Mrs. Philipson's, if you please ?" she asked in a low tone, almost a whisper. "Yes," replied Lucy. "Won't you come in!" "I am not intruding, I hope," murmured the stranger Still more faintly. "Oh ! no," said Lucy, opening the parlor door wide as she spoke. "We've only got a sewing circle here, and Mrs. Philipson isn't busy." All eyes were of course immediately turned upon the new comer. The lady of the house rose and came forward with an inquiring air. The young woman in mourning stood, nervously shrinking, in the door-way, glancing at the strange faces with a scared, appealing look, and pressing her hands?they were gloveless hands, and very white, small and finely shaped?closely together, as if mutely petitioning for sympathy or aid. "Won't you come in ?" asked Mrs. Philipson after a momentary pause. She could not imagine what the business of the Btranger might be, for she did not look like a visitor, and she did not look like a beggar. There was certainly nothing beggarly in her attire, though it was quite plain and cheaply made, and rather the worse for wear. She might have been somebody taking round a subscription list; but she had no signs about her of any such occupation. "I?I won't sit down, if you please," she rejoined, hesitatingly, in a breathless sort of way. "I do not want to take up your time? I see you are occupied?" "Oh! not at all," rejoined Mrs. Philipson. "Pray make yourself comfortable," and she drew forward a cane-seated chair, which the young woman took in a reluctant manner, looking anything but comfortable as she did so. She evidently wished herself somewhere else, and it was no doubt inconsiderate in the hostess to expose her to the embarrassing gaze of so many people. It would have been kinder to allow her to state her business in private. There was another pause; then the stranger faltered forth? "I was directed to come here, because it was supposed that you might be better able to assist?that is, to advise me?than any one else. I have never been here before?in +his town, I mean?and I know no one. I am quite alone. I want employment of some sort. I have references?from the place I was last at. Perhaps you will kindly look at them." She drew from her pocket, at this juncture, some folded papers, which she tendered to Mrs. Philipson. That lady took them with a serious and puzzled air. "Fetch my glasses, Laura, if you please," she said to her daughter. And then she gravely examined the papers, while the subject of the references sat on the edge of her chair, and the members of the sewing circle cast furtive glances at her, while pretending to talk. And this was Rachel Ray's first introduction into Drowsieville society. CHAPTER II. Nature never framed a woman's heart Of prouder stuff.?Shakspeare. "Well, Miss Ray," said Mrs. Philipson in a gracious tone, when she had finished reading, "I will do what I can for you, of course; but in a place of this sortj which is?a?not very extensive, and where there are few vacancies, it may be difficult for me to find the sort of employm ent you desire." "Yes," assented Miss Ray. "I feared so. Still?" "Still," said Mrs. Philipson, as she hesitated, "there is a chance, certainly; there is always a chance ; and if you could afford to wait a little?if you are not in too great baste, and will give me opportunities to look around, why, it is possible, I may succeed after all." "Yes," murmured Miss Ray again. "I am much obliged to you, I am sura And now, perhaps, I had better go," she added, rising quickly as if it was a relief to get the interview over. "I hope you will excuse me for having troubled you." "O, don't hurry off,!.' said the lady politely; "you had better have some refreshment first? Laura, my dear, some cake and lemonade here for this?a?for Miss Ray." Lucy Melton was watching MisB Ray, and saw a crirasou flush mount to her face, as Mrs. Philipson suppressed the word "lady," which had risen to her lips, and supplied the proper name instead. She made a hasty gesture of disseut as Laura stepped forward to obev her mother's behest. "Nothing for me, thank yon; I had dinner just before I came here. Good-evening." "Good evening. Oil! by the way, will you give me your address? It is likely that; I may wish to communicate with you." "My address at present is the Wilmot House." (This was the one hotel of which the town boa sted, and of which. I have been careless enough not to make honorable mention, among ether buildings of note.) "I expect to move to-morrow, however, if I can find suitable lodgings elsewhere." "I can assist the young person to find lodgings, I have no doubt," briskly interposed Miss Trigott, who had been dying to dip her oar in for some time; but had not until now found a chance. "f know a nice genteel place, where the terms are moderate, and where?" "Many thanks," said Rachel Ray, with adecision of manner which she had not before displayed; "I will not trouble any one in the matter, as I have been already advised where to go." "Oh! very well," said Miss Trigott, drawing back offunded. "I don't want to be officious, I'm sure." And the contradictory young person, who 6eemed so anxious to obtain assistance, and yet so tenacious of the mode in which it was offered, took her departure with another hurried, "Good-evening," leaving a fresh topic for the busy circle to discuss. "What an uppish creature," cried little Miss Frigott with indignation. "Anybody would have supposed I meant to offer her an insult, instead of doing her a kindness, which I intended to, I'm sure." "Can she be a lady, do you think ?" asked Laura. "She spoke very correctly, I observed." "She looks like a lady," said Lucy. "Did you see her hands ?" "Beautifully white and small," said another. "TKftt-. in snnrp.elv a criterion to tto bv." re - -- J ? O" "V marked Mrs. Philipson. "A milliner or shop girl may have nice hands." "Oh! but iit wasn't only that," said Lucy, eagerly. "I thought her whole manner was refined." "She seemed very nervous, poor thing," said old Miss Etorsey. "Do you know the idea occurred to me that she might be crazy?her eyes looked so wild." "She brought fair references as to her character and abilities, from her last place of residence," said the hostess. "What sort of work has she been doing ?" inquired Miss Dorsey. "In one family, she was nursery governess ; in another she did the sewing. She will take anything she can find to do." "Anything compatible with her capabilities, I presume you mean, mamma," said Laura. "She might get plain needlework here, but there's nobody in need of a governess, that I know of." "She'd be above housework, I suppose? omooninn and nlpAninor and HO forth." -? B, "Oh !" cried Lucy, at this juncture. "I am sure she isn't used to thai sort of thing." "I have just thought of something," said a quiet little lady, Mrs. Purdy, who had not yet spoken. "Minnie Lullem will probably want some {assistance in housekeeping, or in 4he care of her grandfather, now that the old gentleman is laid aside; and perhaps this Miss Ray might suit her very well." "Well, but that is a bare chance," rejoined Mrs. Philipson. "It won't do to count upon that. The Crawfords put out all their sewing, and I have a good deal of work on hand at present; and that will make a beginning for her, if she chooses to undertake it." Meanwhile, the subject of this discussion was hurrying aimlessly along the deserted streets?nobody seemed to be abroad at that time?her black veil drawn over her face to hide the flush of wounded pride, and the starting tears, which from time to time she furtively put up her hand to brush away. "How absurd I am," she murmured to herself as she turned into a little by-lane, and sank down to rest upon a wooden bench, con il- Knnootk fka ?kronnkou nf ft veuivillljr piaccu ucukui/u >uu w- _ wide-spreading elm. "How can I expect people to know that I am a lady, when I come to them in such a guise ? Besides, isn't concealment just what I want?and the more different I appear from my true self, the more effectually I may be concealed. And that little old woman meant to be kind, I suppose?but what a condescending air they all put on, as if I were a beggar, or an inferior of some sort. Well, I thought I had had a useful lesson taught me already; but I am always forgetting it, and taking up my old ideas again. But I shall do so no more. I crush the past and its belongings under my feet, and begin life with a new name, a new position, a new telf. I do, I must." She clenched her little hands almost fiercely as she spoke, and slightly stamped her foot upon the ground, as if to emphasize her words. This outbreak did her good. She felt calmer afterwards, and putting aside the warm stifling veil from her flushed face, she let the cool air blow over her cheeks and brow, as she sat leaning back against the trunk of the sheltering tree. Everything was quiet and peaceful around~heK""wT&-J?in^ hum of life came to her ears from the more popttfotlS-6Sd of the town?the rumbling of a wagon, the tinkle of a bell, an occasional whistle or cry. A pair of birds, settling themselves for the night, twittered softly and contentedly in the boughs overhead. The solitude, the tranquil atmosphere, soothed and refreshed her, and laid her turbulent emotions at rest. Suddenly, a light approaching step startled her from the dreamy mood into which she had lapsed, and turning her head she perceived Lucy Melton coming down the lane, which happened to be a short cut home from Mrs. Philipson's house. She recognized her face * ? ' 1 .1 1 - as one sne naa noucea in me sewiag circie, and an aggressive feeling immediately wakened up within her. But Lucy's pleasant, genial smile seemed to protest against it "Resting, Miss Ray ?" she volunteered, in a cheerful tone. "It's a lovely evening, isn't it?" . "Yes," said Rachel, stiffly. She rose from her bench as she spoke. "Are you going to the hotel now ?" pursued Lucy. "Because I am going in that direction,'and we can walk together." Rachel would fain have declined, but courtesy forbade. Besides, there was no resisting the frank cordiality with which the suggestion was made. It savored neither of condescension or patronage, but expressed the simple unaffected kindliness of a friendly heart. "Have you lately come to Drowsieville ?" asked Lucy, as they walked along. "T 1 ?J 99 il "l. oniy arnvea taut nigut, wwi uie repijr. "And do you like it ? But, of course, that is a foolish question. You have had no time or opportunity to judge of it yet." "It doss not matter much whether I like it or not," said Rachel. "If I can find any employment here, I must remain." "Must you ? Then I hope you will like it," said Lucy, pleasantly. "Is it your home ?" asked Rachel, after a brief pause. "Yes. I was born here, and have lived here all my life. I must say," Lucy added, with a little laugh, "I should not be sorry to change the scene for a while?I am getting just a little tired of the place, though, of course, I am fond of it, too, simply from asso ciation." "Do you believe in that sort of thing?" asked Rachel abruptly. "In what sort of thing?" "In the charm of association?for instance, liking certain places or people merely because one is accustomed to them." "Yes, if they are at all nice. As ,to disagreeable people, I know very few, I am happy to say; and as to places, as I said before, I know none other but this." "And do you like everybody here ?" "Nearlly everybody; some more than others, of course. I have several intimate friends, my schoolmates most of them, and one I am especially fond of, Rebecca Carey. You would like her too, I know." "Do you go to school ?" asked Rachel in surprise. "Yes. Do I look too old ?" laughed Lucy. "I am just seventeen. But I mean to stop at the close of this term." "Some people, at seventeen, seem to have lived a hundred years." mutt3red Rachel, half to herself. It was an odd remark, made in rather an odd tone, and Lucy could not AvaknAa on innitinnn* rrlonno of liAl* fflPA Kilt i iUA UCOI dU 1UVJUI1 lug glWMW MV MV* j ~ ~ | its expression was unfathomable, "I don't feel as if J had lived a hundred years/' she said lightly. "No, I suppose not. Why should you ?? There's the hotel yonder, and I may as well say good-bye," said Kachel, stopping short. "Well, I will see you again. I will come to see you, if you will let me," said Lucy, cordially. "I do not know yet where I shall be, after to-night," waa the not very gracious response. Then with a sudden change of manner, a softening of her whole look and air, she added tremulously, "I um so grateful to you?you are very kind." "Kind 1 not at all?I only wish,"?began Lucy, but the other was gone, not pausing to hear the conclusion of the sentence. "What a strange sort of person," meditated Lucy, as she walked home rather fast, for it was getting dark. "However, she it a lady, that's clear. There's refinement in her look, her accent, and everything. I mean to hunt her up, wherever she moves to, and find out something more about her. I think, when one knew her, she might be very nice." It was not so easy to "find out" anything about Rachel Ray; though as to the matter of her change of abode, people soon became aware of that. She took a tiny room in a small, orderly, lonely cottage in the suburbs of the town, owned by a widow in poor circumstances, who was very glad to let her one spare apartment to a quiet, respectable lodger. Mrs. Philipson's promise of hunting up work for her was fulfilled. She carried her some plain under-clothing to make up, and it was so promptly and beautifully done that more was immediately forthcoming, and soon she had as much occupation of this sort as she could desire. But thohgh she gradually grew familiar with the faces of the different customers? or patrons, rather?and with their names and places of residence as well, nothing like sociability was established between herself and any of them. Not that they scorned her. She was too evidently and thoroughly a lady for that, and there were many of them who would fain have become her friends, if she would let them. But she entrenched -herself behind a barrier of reserve that was not to be broken through. About her own life and her belongings she was absolutely silent, giving them no clue as to where she had come from, or what had induced her to seek this remote settlement, of which she had previously known nothing, to take up a life of drudgery, uncheered by a single pleasure, unsoflened by a single social tie. Even her landlady, who was a kind, motherly old soul, and who, pitying her forlorn condition, tried to win her confidence, and "make her feel happy and at home," as she said, could never attain to a familiar intercourse with her, or gain any evidences that her well-meant efforts were appreciated, if not responded to. Kachel was unfailingly gentle and courteous, but nothing more. She rarely left her own room except for her meals, or to go on some necessary errand; and so plainly manifested her preference for solitude, that after a time Mrs. Canning ceased to endeavor to draw her out of it And Lucy Melton, prompted no less by an innate, large-hearted sympathy, than by a real liking she had conceived for the lonely stranger, made warm and earnest advances of friendship, only to find that there was a 1 .boundary line beyond which it was useless to try1<rpftS8K JBtill. she was a trifle more unconstrained?just a sbatfeHfeSB Ilripr&ctica- ~ ble?with Lucy than with any one else. The wistful, far away look she generally wore 1 would brighten into something like a smile , at her approach, and she took evident pleas- . ure in the girl's sunshiny words and ways, j Bo it came about by degrees tnat soraetmug of a mystery attached itself to her, and the people who had tried in vain to find her out, and whose proffered kindnesses she invariably put aside, all arrived at the conclusion that there must be some weighty secret connected with her life, which made her so unapproach- . able and strange, and so different from everybody else. A few there were who shook their heads, and looked ominiously significant, as though they thought her something more than strange; but the Drowsievillians were in general a simple-hearted, unsuspicious set, not prone to jump at evil conclusions, and the number of such cavillers was small. One point was universally conceded, and that was, that Rachel Ray was terribly proud. Not the smallest favor would she consent to accept from the hands of one of them, however naturally and delicately tendered. Once or i twira M ffonninor had nreDared for her a little extra dish?which she could ill afford? thinking, perhaps, that she looked pale and tired, or was worn down by steady work; and to her mortification, it was gently, bat decidedly refused, her lodger averring that she liked plain fare better than any other. Again, when Lacy brought her a ticket for a j bazaar to be given in aid of the Sabbathschool fond, saying she had had some given her to distribute, she declined to accept it, on the plea that she had no time to partake of any amusement; and though several times invited to small social gatherings, she invariably excused herself. After a while, therefore, as was natural enough, she dropped pretty much out of notice, except so far as her work bronght her into contact with others. Only Lucy, impelled by the attraction which bad influenced her always, could not let her alone; but continued to pay her occasional visits, which were never returned, and to bring her flutters, which she could not refuse; and once in a while?though this hap pened very rarely?she managed to coax her out for a little walk beyond the town. "You will kill yourself, shut up as you are, day after day, in this box of yours, moping over your work, with nothing to refresh or divert you," she said one evening when she had been trying, but in vain, to persuade Rachel to make one of these excursions. . "Kill myself!" Rachel echoed the words with a strange smile, and dropping the sewing from her hands sat for a moment gazing out of the window with that vague dreamy look ' of hers, which seemed to see nothing within ordinary range of right And then she murmured to herself,? a if forgetting Lucy's presence, "I wish I could?I only wish I could."i "Rachel V* exclaimed her visitor, dismayed. "What do you mean i" The other came oaca to ner consciousness of the present, with a little laugh, and picked up her work again with tremulous fingers, a red spot burning in either cheek. "You think I am out of my wits, I suppose," she said, sewing very fast as she spoke. "I feel sometimes as if that was the case, myself. But it's no great wonder if I get weary of life occasionally. I have not much to make it sweet to me." "And isn't it your fault that it is so dreary ?" asked Lucy, reproachfully. "You know well encugh, Rachel, that I would do many things to brighten and cheer you, if yoli would bnt let me." "Yes, I know. You are very good?very * ' '* 1 '?a iL!?L_ kind, .Lucy, ana you must loiuk me uugrai?ful and cold hearted to show so little appreciation of all that you have done. But nothing can brighten my life again?nothing. I cannot help wishing that it was all over, and that I could be at peace. There, I never meant to say so much," she cried, suddenly checking herself. "Oh! Lucy, I am not fit company for you?you who are so happy and young and careless. Why don't you stay with others who are like yourself?" "Because I want to help you," said Lucy, and with a sudden impulse she put her arms around Rachel, and kissed her. "You have told me something, Rachel. Now tell me everything, will you not?" "Never," cried Rachel, passionately. "Never!" [to be continued.] ? ?ma NAPOLEON'S MOTHER. WhHe many of the members of the Bonaparte family attained longevity, not one of them approached the late Mme. Patterson Bonaparte in this regard, except the mother of the world renowned soldier. She was a Corsican. beautiful and patrician; was roar ried to Carlo Bonaparte?her maiden name was Maria LeCiza Romalina?at the age of 17, and became the mother of 13 children, although her husband died 18 years after their union. Five of her offspring died in infancy, but the others became distinguished through their all-conquering, crown-grasping brother. No woman of modern times has had so kingly and princely an issue. They were, in the order of their birth, Joseph, King of Spain; Napoleon, Emperor of the French ; Lucein, Prince of Canino; Maria Ann (afterward named Elise), Princess of Lucca and Piombina; Louis, King of Holland; Carlotta (Marie Pauline subsequently), Princess Borghese; Anunciata (Carolina), Queen of Naples; Jerome, King of Westphalia, and husband of Betsey Patterson. She was widowed at 35; lived for some time after at Ajaccio, and, when Corsica fell under British rule, went with her children to Marseilles, where she lived on the pension allowed Corsican refugees. After her son had become First Counsul she removed to Paris, and on ascending the throne, received the title of Mme. Mere. She was surrotinded by luxury and pomp, for which she had no fondness, and her constant solicitude about her imperial son, and her belief that his glory could not last, rendered her the reverse of happy. The divorce of Josephine, the terrible retreat from Russia, the exile to Elba, the final overthrow at Waterloo, and the banishment to St. Helena, - (she was 65 then) were heavy blowe, but she was prepared for them?they were forebodings of her maternal heart. While the sun of the Emperor's fortunes was blazing in the zenith, she shivered under the shadow of her fear, and her fear was pro- . phetio. She witnessed the downfall of ev- ' ery one of her children. When Waterloo .1 had sealed Napoleon's doom, she went to ' Rome; resided there with her step-brother, i Cardinal Fesch, in winter, and spent the i summer at Albino. She bore her adversity J with dignity and resignation, and died in the j eighty-seventh year of her age, leaving con- 1 siderable property, the result of careful econo- : my. She had seen more extraordinary i changes, more making of history than even her < daughter-in-law, Mme. Patterson-Bonaparte, i fpiSttltettMiw ?fadiug. TO EXTINGUISH PIBES. ' ^ ? . ' > Better than all ehibdntte^ftad-^oetly 'apparatus for extinguishing fires, are const&nt^sr* and watchfulness, and quick and intelligent action on the part of those who first discover a fire in progress. The fire which at the beginning could be smothered with a pockethandkerchief or dashed out with a bucket of water, neglected a few hours lays in waste millions of dollars' worth of property. If there is any time in which a person should be cool and calm, in perfect command of himself it is when he.discovers a fire that threatens .the destruction of life and property. The first thing to do is to learn precisely where it is; Ua na/iAnil annoiHor tlio oli?nMa nf Aftin. DUO DWVVUU) W VVHWUV* vuv vumuvw v? guiahing it Of coarse, in cities an alarm should at once be sent out, but at the same time a vigorous effort should be made to put out the fire with the means at hand, for sometimes what the fire-engine is unable to accomplish when it reaches the scene, can be done by one or two persons who act promptly before the flames have had time to gain headway. First, then, do not be alarmed on account of Bmoke. Frequently there is a great deal of smoke before the fire has made much progress. Remember that one can pass through smoke by keeping his head near the floor, or by enveloping it in a wet woollen cloth. On entering a room to fight down a fire singlehanded, keep the door closed behind, if possikla A nail nf or a tap an/1 a fin dinner in the. *'*? J/W** W* TTWWV* tfWV* JM> ??" ?? ? hsod of a resolute person can be made to work a miracle at the beginning. If the fire has progressed too far to admit of this coarse, and it is necessary to depend entirely on outside help, then see to it that every door and window is closed. 3y so doing, if there is a fire-engine in the neighborhood, it will often be possible to confine the fire to one room. Every person who stops at a hotel should take special pains before retiring to note the location of the stairways, so that in oase of an alarm he can. find his way out, even though the halls are filled with smoke. Never leave a room when there is an alarm of fire, without first securing a wet towel, or, if possible, a wet sponge or piece of woollen cloth through which to breathe. If escape by the stain is cut off, seek an outside window and stay there until help comes. Above all things, be cool T and have your wits about you. When a lady's dress takes fire, let her mil on the floor at once, and call ibr help,'in the meantime reaching for some rug or woollen cloth with which to smother the flames. There is nothing new in this advice; it has been repeated in one ibrm or other hundreds of times, but it will bear repeating thousands of times.? American Builder. LEGAL PRINCIPLES Of BUSINESS. Like all general rules, the following are subject in particular cases, to exceptions and qualifications: Ignorance of the law excuses no one. A mistake as to facts may relieve one from the obligations of a contract; a mistake as to the law, neyer. The contracts of a minor, unless for necessaries, are avoidable. * ^ i_*_ j; jl luoauc cannot enter into a omuing contract. V Fraud vitiates any contract Drunkenness, if it amounts to incapacity, y will render a contract void. ? Contracts entered into on Sunday, in the ordinary course of business, are void. The acts and contracts of one partner in the course of the partnership business, bind all the rest. The acts and contracts of an agent within the scope of his agency, bind the principal. Contracts entered into without consideration, nnless under seal, may be avoided.^ A note, payment of which might be successfully resisted in a salt between the original parties, may be valid and binding in the hands of third parties, innocent holders for value, without notice. * A debt is not paid when a note is given and accepted for the amount. If the note is not paid the original debt is revived.> To revive a debt barred by limitation, an acknowledgment of existence as a subsisting debt, accompanied by a promise to pay, or under circumstances from which the law will imply such promise, is necessary. Part payment of a debt barred by limitations will revive the whole debt, which will bold good until limitations jrun again from the date of such partial payment Each individual in a firm is liable for the full amount of the debts of the firm, except in caws of special or limited partnership. If a. debtoKowe several debts to tbe same creditor and pay a sum of money, he has the right to designate the particular debt to which the payment shall apply; otherwise the creditor may appropriate it to that of the longest standing, or for which he has the least security. y . A will to pass real estate must be in writing, signed by the testator. Tomatoes First Eater in America.? "Seaweed/' a Newport correspondent of the Boston Transcript, asks for further information concerning the first eating of tomatoes in America. The correspondent says: It is a Newport tradition that tomatoes were first eaten in this country in about 1823, in a bouse standing on the corner of Corne aad Mill streets. About that time there came here an eocentric Italian painter, Michele Felice Corne. 'He bought a stable on the street now called for him and fashioned it into a dwelling hoose, and there lived and died. Previous to his coming, and long after, tomatoes, then called "love apples," were thought to be poisonous. A gentleman told me to-day, that in 1819 he brought them from South Carolina and planted them in his yard, where they were looked upon as curiosities, and prized for their beauty. A charming old lady also told me to-day, that in 1824, she was sitting with a sick person when some one broucrht the invalid, as a tempting dcjlkacy, some "tomatoes. "Would you poison her?" was the exclamation of the astonished attendants; and yet Corne, in his section of the town, had been serving them for a year previous. As late as the year 1839, they were regarded as poisonous throughout Connecticut. Corne lived, between the time of his coming into America and his settling in Newport, in Salem and in Boston, una, though Newporters cling to the tradition that tomatoes were first eaten here, he may have introduced them, as a vegetable, in either or both of those cities. He prided himself on having set the fashion of eating them here. "There," he said, "is that potato; he grows in the dark or in the damp cellar, with his * i i a t it |. paie ianK foots; ne nas no navor; ne lives under ground. But tke tomato, he grows in the sunshine; he Has a fine rosy color, an exquisite flavor; he is very wholesome, and when he is put in some soap you relish him." 1ST According to Prof. Lawrence Smith, the following are the requisites of good petroleum : First, the color should be white, or light yellow, with blue reflection?clear yellow indicating imperfect purification, or adulteration with inferior oil; second, the odor given off should be faint and not disagreeable, and the specific gravity at 60? Fah. ought not to be below 0.795, nor above 0.84; ana third, when mixed with an equal volume of sulphuric acid, of the density of 1.53, the color ought not to become darker, but, on the contrary, lighter. A petroleum that satisfies these conditions in full, and possesses the proper flashing point, is pure and safe.