Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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lewis m. grist, proprietor. | Jjnbcjjtttknl JfamiltT ffrfuspafirr: J'or fjjc ^promotion of fjjc political, Serial, ^griculhiral anb (Eomntcrrial Jfnftrtsfs of iijc Soufjj. |terms--$2.50 a year, in advance. "VOL. 32. YOBKYILLE, S C., THURSDAY, JA-ISTIJABY 7,1886. 1. JU ?rigteal Jtotg. Written for The Yorkville Enquirer. AN UNQUIET LIFE. By Stanley StClaik. CHAPTER I. "And it is absolutely necessary that we should go ?" "It is absolutely necessary, ray love, thai 1 should go. 1 lay no commands upot: you." "Oh! Richard, I cannot let you go alone.' "But the little one?can we take her?" "That is what I am thinking about. She is very young and tender to be exposed tc the fatigue of such a journey." "And worse than that, Emily, the rigoi 0 of the climate after we arrive there. Oh no, we surely cannot take her; it would be s -? great risk?an unjustifiable risk. We mus1 leave her?or rather, I must leave her with you. I think our duty is plain. Dear wife, I must leave you both at home." This dialogue took place in the library ol - 1? ?1 ? Knnon in nno nf t.hp rPfirPfl a imuusuuic uuun m ?. .... streets of a small Southern town. At its close, Emily Fairfax quietly turned away from the table near which, looking over hei husband's shoulder, she had been standing as 9he spoke, and left the room. The subject of their discussion was briefly this. Mr. Fairfax, who was connected with a large business firm in Nova Scotia, had received an unexpected and most unwelcome summons to attend a meeting of this firm at the home office, for reasons which absolutely required his presence. It was also likely that he might be detained abroad during several weeks, and his wife felt most unwilling to have him go without her, as his health was at present delicate, and needed her constant care. But their only child was an infant of three months, also delicate, whom they dreaded to expose to the dangers of such an undertaking as a journey to Nova Scotia in the month of November. Had her husband's health been strong, Mrs. Fairfax would not, could not have hesitated in regard to the course she ought to take; But she dreaded inexpressibly the possibility of the return of such an attack as he had only a month previous, when the most constant and devoted nursing had been necessary, nursing which she felt sure he would not be able to obtain, should he require it, while absent from her. ?ha nlparlpfl stronerlv with him at first, to give up the journey?his business could not be so urgeut as to stand in the face of all obstacles. But he refused to consider this side of the question. Go he must?he hated to leave home, above all to leave her, but it would be folly to neglect so imperative a summons, on such slight grounds as the merechance of endangering his health. He might as well throw up his interest in the firm at once. Besides, he felt quite well now, and so far from doing him any harm, the journey would most likely prove a benefit to him. So he argued, and his wife, knowing his resolute disposition, felt that it would be useless to combat his decision. But her affectionate heart was torn by conflicting claims, and she spent many anxious hours vainly endeavoring to discover some method of reconciling them. At the end of two days a circumstance occurred which suddenly decided her course. Her husband became unwell, and showed symptoms of a similar attack to the one from which lie had so lately recovered. He consifltedms physician, who assured him that his intended journey would prove advantageous to his health, but advised him not to travel alone. Mrs. Fairfax insisted that no one should accompany him but herself, and it was settled, therefore, (though not without opposition on his part), that their child should be left in the care of its nurse, a most admirable and faithful woman, who had been an attendant in the family for many years, and possessed their entire confidence. Her mind being once made up, Emily dared not reflect upon the resolution she had formed, lest it should he weakened by too much thought. For the idea of deserting tho tonripr little rrpntnre who had but just come to claim her love and care became terrible to her, now that the reality was brought before her. She believed that she was doing her duty, and her husband held the strongest claim upon her devotion. But her maternal instincts cried out against their violation, and nothing but a strong conviction that the baby's welfare depended upon its remaining at home prevented her, even at the last moment, from deciding that it should accompany her. However, the time of departure soon arrived. And she was almost thankful when the tumult of doubt and inward uncertainty was ended, and they were fairly embarked upon their journey. Fortunately, perhaps, for her, her husband's health continued for a few days in a somewhat precarious state thus demanding her close attention, and diverting her mind from other thoughts. And heranxiety in his behalf, her necessary care for his comfort, and gradual relief at finding that he was slowly though surely recovering, and would probably be all the better for his undertaking, proved an antidote to depressing memories, and possible self-reproach. It was not without anxiety that Ellen Stevenson, the elderly nurse in whose care Baby Hilda had been left, accepted the charge entrusted to her. She had sufficient confidence in herself to feel sure that she could do as well for the child as the young and inexperienced mother. Still that mother's absence so greatly increased her responsibility as to inspire her with a certain uneasiness, especially as the infant was not by any means a robust one; and she feared the chance of its falling ill while she had the sole care of it. Mr. and Mrs. Fairfax had invested her with full authority in their household until their return; and the servants were instructed to obey her orders, and to allow her to want for nothing, eithei for herself or the baby, thatshe mightjudge requisite. As she was a kind and considerate person, and a favorite with the domestics, who were, moreover, much attached to their master and mistress, there seemed to be no fear but that everything would work ..tkl.. ..n^lsv.. Un* (nm'rumi ? ?. ri.lo SIIIUUWIIJ UIIUCl lici tcui|>uiuij iuiv> And so it proved, and the good, conscientious Ellen gradually forgot her fears, and grew satisfied and happy, when she found that the baby throve under the new order of things as it had never done yet, losing its puny appearance, and becoming plump, rosy and tranquil, regular in its meal times and sleepy times, and bidding fair to prove a decided credit to her management. The news from the absentees was most encouraging. Mr. Fairfax had improved wonderfully in health, and his wife wrote in the gayest spirits, particularly as the time drew near for them to returi: home. They were expected early in February, and Ellen was busy with preparations for their arrival, when the disappointing information came that an unlooked for cause of delay, connected with the Fairfax's busi ness, had arisen, and that it was now uncertain how much longer they might be detained. "Dear, dear!" sighed Ellen, as she folded up the letter containing this unwelcome news, "it's really too hard, just when 1 hac set my heart on theircoming.andeverything in apple-pie order, and little Hilda looking just like a picture, all ready to meet them And who knows whether the little deai may keep so well, and her teeth coming and as like as not to pull her down again and disappointing enough after the pains I've taken to keep her well, and all th< lively accounts I've written to her mothei about her! But such is life, and it's no my business to find fault with Providence, though it does seem a pity things s< often go contrary. Well, Mary Ann, yoi can just take the white quilts off, and pu the linen covers on the furniture again, foi there is no telling now when they'll b< - I here and it's no use to have things ruined with the dust." The wiuter was now past, and a beautiful : and early Spring set in. Little Hilda grew healthier and prettier day by day, and rejoiced in the possession of four pearly teeth, which were the pride of her nurse's heart, particularly as their coming had been at; tended with no ill effects, and which made her more than ever desirous to dis; play the darling to her parents' admiring ' gaze. i "Here's a note for you, Miss Stevenson," said Mary Ann, the under chambermaid, I; enteringthe nursery one day with a three cornered missive in her hand. Ellen opened the note and her countenance fell as she perused its contents. ' "Pear me, this is very bad," she exclaimed in a troubled tone. "Whatever shall I . do?" , "What's the matter, ma'am ?" anxious ly inquired the young attendant. "Why, there's my sister's little boy gone and broken his leg. He's boarding, you , know, with the Martin family, on account i of going to school, and Mrs. Martin has sent ; for me to go to him, and I don't really see i what I'm to do about it! I can't leave , baby." "Why, as to that," exclaimed Mary Ann, f who was a very obliging girl, "I'll take care [ of baby, and welcome, if you want to go. i The poor little fellow will feel bad if you ' neglect him, and his mother away, too." "Yes, that's the worst it. But baby's ; mother is away, as well as Jack's mother, and she's left in my charge, and I promised - Mrs. Fairfax to watch over her night and i day, and never trust her out of my sight." 1 "I'm sure you might trust her with me, Miss Stevenson. I'd be just as careful as i anything." i "I'd trust her with you, my girl, as well i as with another; but a promise is a promise, and I daren't break my word. No, it's a ; bad case, but Jack must do without me, and I'll offer Mrs. Martin extra pay to have him well taken care of. Who brought this note?" "Mrs. Martin's oldest girl, Sarah." "Ask Sarah to step up here." Sarah Martin, a tow-haired, bashful girl, of twelve, came shyly up the broad, carpeted stairs, and entered the luxurious nursery on tip-toe. In answer to Ellen's questioning sne stated that her mother was "awful put out" by Jack's accident, as it had happened while house-cleaning was going on, and the two younger children were sick with colds, and there was nobody to help. "Nobody but only just me," Sarah added, "and my mother doesn't want to keep me ! out of school." AH A A nilHCA "PM jl uant J UU1 iiiuuiui i.\J line a uuioe* x u j pay ?he wages," said Ellen. "Of course, I I don't expect her to give her time to Jack." "Mother ain't willing to have a stranger around the house while we're all at sixes and sevens," explained Sarah. "She says ; I was to tell you so." "Mercy on us! then what does she want, i child ? She doesn't expect me to leave | home to come there, does she ? I can't take j care of the hoy. Don't you know I'm in i charge of Mrs. Fairfax's baby, and the ; house, and everything in it?" "She thought maybe you'd let Jack be | sent here to you." "Make a hospital of Mrs. Fairfax's house, and she absent? No indeed; I'll take no j such liberty. Say to your mother I'll see ; her myself. I'll bring the baby around, j some time this afternoon, and have a talk ! with her, and a look at the boy. I wish to mercy my sister was at home," exclaimed the troubled Ellen. Adding indignantly when Sarah was out of hearing, "Mrs. Martin was always a fussy, unaccommodating sort of a woman. She is the worst sort to get on with in an emergency of this kind, j As if it mattered about her house being out ! of order, when there's sickness to think of!" Jack's leg had sustained a compound fraci ture, and being totally unused to suffering I of any description, he found himself in a I very bad case indeed, and betrayed the fact j that he had none of the stuff of a martyr in j him. Indeed, his complaints and lamentaI tions were so excessive, that Mrs. Martin's pity was quite lost in vexation, and she ; scolded the poor little lad so harshly as to i bring on a fit of vehement crying and sobi bing, so that when his aunt came there, I acccording to promise, she found him alj most delirious with mingled excitement and ; pain. Sympathy for her own flesh and blood , overpowered, for the time, all other feelings, on/l ICIlon in nrflnr tn rlovnfp )i fp\v miniltps i to him, consented to leave little Hiida in the sitting room in Sarah's charge, regretting, as she did so, that she had not thought of bringing Mary Ann along. Sarah was highly gratified at the honor I conferred upon her, and being anxious to ! display her importance in her new eharac| ter of nurse, conveyed her little charge to the front window in the hope of exciting the admiration of the neighborhood. Unfortunately for the attainment of this object, nobody was near to take note of her posi1 tion, except a half-idiot boy named Jemmy ; Long, the son of a washerwoman who lived ! across the street. Sarah felt a contempt lor i Jemmy, but finding him better than no | spectator at all, she encouraged him to api proach the window, which was low, and : opened directly on the sidewalk. "See here, Jemmy," she remarked in a patronizing tone, as the boy came lounging , i up, "ain't thisabeautiful child? Wouldn't ! you like to take care of her?" "I could," answered Jemmy, confidently nodding his head. "I've minded babies lots of times." Sarah laughed, and dandled little Hilda, ; who cooed and gurgled, and stretched out her fat hands, smiling at Jemmy, who stood with open mouth and lack-lustre eyes staring at her. I "Kin she walk?" he inquired. , "Why no, of course not," rejoined Sarah. , "She ain't a year old yet?not more than | eight or ten months, I 'spect. You don't know much about babies, Jemmy." i "Kin she set down?" was the next ques( tion. "Why yes, of course, you silly! See, I'll L j put her in this little arm-chair?Bessie's , j chair, you know?and tie her with a hand!! kerchief. So! Thereshe is, the pretty witty little girl! See her kick her little feet! , Ain't her shoes pretty ? And seethe lace , on her frock, and everything. My ! her pa and ma must be rich." "Who's her pa and ma?" . i "Oh, people who you don't know anything about. I've been to their house? ' OlinU on \ lwviiork H on wl Un t?n K i r\ nn I DUV.il CI 11 Cttyu/ll IIWU.X, Del 111 111 cm ' impressive manner. "Big high marble steps in front, and an iron railing, and carpets \ i inside so thick you can't hear yourself walk, j and great tall looking glasses that show you , from head to foot." ! "Must be one of them shops down town," 5 suggested Jemmy. I "Shops, indeed ! I tell you it's a house? ; Mr. Fairfax's house, on Laurel street. . Don't you know Laurel street?" , "Course I do." . | "Well, they live there." s | "Sarah," called Mrs. Martin's voice over r the banisters, "come here quick. I want i1 you." "Yes ma'am, I will," answered Sarah. . | She attempted to untie the knotted hand?| kerchief that secured little Hilda in the chair, but found it tighter than she had ex1 pected. J "Hurry, Sarah !" called her mother, im1 patiently. r "O, mercy! I can't undo this knot," r muttered Sarah, fumbling at it awkwardly. ! "Dear me! Jemmy, won't you just stand r | by the baby one minute, while I see what , mother wants? I'll be back directly." , "Course I will," readily answered the boy. 3 Mrs. Martin was not aware that Ellen had 3 placed the baby in Sarah's charge. She had r upset a basin of water over the lloor in the t bedroom, where her children were lying - sick, and having her hands full of some ) mess, which she was preparing on the stove, l needed assistance in getting things to rights, t Sarah, who stood in some awe of her mothr er's temper, did not consider it expedient to 3 olfer any excuse, and it was not until the [ floor was made tidy again that she volun teered the information that she was takin< , care of Mrs. Fairfax's baby, down stairs. "Laws! why couldn't you tell me?" ex claimed Mrs. Martin. "What a goose yoi , are, to be sure. IIow did I know? Wh< did you leave it with ?" "Nobody," replied Sarah, who considem Jemmy a nonentity. "I tied her in a chair.' "Well, go right down again and attend t< her, this minute." Sarah ran down and encountered Ellen a the parlor door. "Where's my baby ?" asked the nurse, i "In there," replied Sarah, motioning to wards the spot where she had left her. Bu the words had scarcely passed her lips whei they were followed by a terrified cry. The child was gone. The little arm-chai: was empty, one end of the handkerchie loosely fastened to the side of it, the othei 1 ,1 1: euu tmugiiug iu uic nuui? "Girl, what have you done with her' Answer me this instant!" almost screamet Ellen, shaking her by the shoulder. Mrs. Martin now came running down ir haste. "What's wrong?" she asked, in i frightened tone. "Ain't the baby safe?" "Oh ! mother," panted Sarah, "he's taker her away!" " Who ?" cried her mother and the nurs< together. "Jemmy Long. lie was here?I left hiir by the window?" Mrs. Martin dashed out at the front door closely followed by the others. Each toot a different direction, in the hope of finding the boy, whom they all suspected of having in mischief or in sport, taken advantage o the opportunity afforded him, to play therr a trick. Jemmy was found on the next block, fish ing in a mud puddle. He declared that lit had left the baby sitting by the window and knew nothing whatever of her disap pearance. CHAPTER II. About a mile beyond the western boun dary of Maysville, (the town in which tut Fairfaxes lived), stood a handsome stone building, surrounded by fine trees; in fronl was a spacious and 'well-kept lawn, embellished here and there with gay flower-beds and sloping down towards a river where, ir tne summer monins, pleasure uuais guueu to an fro. A high iron fence enclosed th< grounds, and on the massive gate a large silver plate bore the inscription, "Asylum for Orphans and Foundlings." Some ten years prior to the date at which the opening of my story commences, the benevolence of an aged lady, who had nc near relatives to inherit her fortune, had led to the existence of this charitable institution; and hundredsof destitute and for saken little ones owed safety and happines? to the friendly shelter which they had found within its walls. Some of its first inmates, indeed, still owned it as theii home. Though many had left it to find other abodes, some as adopted children o wealthy parents, others to occupy lesselevat ed, though perhaps not less happy positions Careful inquiry was made by those ir charge of the institution, regarding th( character of all who applied for children and no applications were granted unless such inquiries were answered in a satisfac tory manner. It was a pleasant afternoon in the montl of June. Groups of young children wen scattered about the large playground, som< swinging, some trundling hoops along tin graveled walks, some racing together, somi quietly amusing themselves with dolls 01 books, but all looking happy, satisfied am at home. Here and there was a nurse ir charge of a baby or a sickly child. Thes< nurses were all selected from the older in mates of the Asylum, ranging in age from fourteen to seventeen years, and none bu the careful and willing were promoted t< such a responsible post. Within doors the aspect was almost a: cheerful as the one without, for it was tin holiday hour between dinner and study time, and none need be busy unless thej chose. There were few who did not tak< ! advantage of this privilege to lay aside al tasks, and devote themselves solely to res or recreation ; but bere and tbere might b< seen an especially industrious one still bend ing over lessons or over work, heedless o the gay chatter going on about him or her and intent only on accomplishing a fixec object. Tn Uin nrifle' ilfii'iHitnrv u>hir>li wflu r?nm posed of a suite of four airy rooms, extend ing the entire length of the building?r party of five orsix were gathered. Of these three, the most important of the number shall he formally presented to the reader. Clara Conway, a tall and very fine-look ing girl of seventeen reclined indolently 01 a chintz-covered settee, with a copy o "David Copperfield" in her hand; for stand ard novels were permitted in recreatior time, and to her sentimental mind the lovei of David and Dora were the most charming thing in the whole hook?the only part of i in fact, which afforded her much interest "Cometh up as a Flower" or "Not Wisely hut Too Well," would doubtless have beei still more to her taste, hut such literaturi did not meet with the approbation of th< wise superintendent, by whom trashy book: were strictly forbidden. Clara had been ii the Asylum six years, was an assistant ir the sewing department, and had charge of ? class in the schoolroom, ller dreams wen of a wealthy lover, with flowing blond mus tachois, who should one day discover he: and bear her away to a luxurious home where she might dress in silk and satin and lie down with a novel in her hanc whenever she should feel disposed. Seated near her, and forming a striking contrast in appearance, was a little dart creature, thin wiry, and plain in featnn with the exception of a pair of bright, rest leas black eyes, which at once enchained th( notice of an observer, so intelligent wai their expression, and so keen their search ing gaze. This was Sophy Merton, Clara'! "conscience," as the others called her, foi her influence over the lazy beauty was al : most unbounded, and was nearly alwayi : exercised in a favorable manner, for Soph} was honest to the core, and though hei tongue was sometimes as sharp as her eyes she was never known to do a mean action or uttter an untruthful word. She was ? great authority in the culinary regions, de lighting in pies and cakes, and had no great er ambition than to stay at the Asylum for ever with her dear Mrs. Kllery, the matror whom she loved with all her heart. Seated at a little table with hercheek rest | ing on her hand, bending over an open vol j ume which completely engrossed her atten } tion, was Magdalen Frost, the oldest girl ii the institution, thniifrh she bail entered i but three years ago. Magdalen could re member a childhood of ease and luxury, ii the home of wealthy parents; but her lath er's failure, and the subsequent death o himself and her mother, with no near rela tives living to care for her, had led to he: finding a shelter amid these, to her, mos uncongenial surroundings. No sentimen of affection towards those who here be friended her had ever stirred her heart .She loathed the enforced discipline, tin plain, neat uniform which she found a deg nidation, the companionship of the obscure and still worse, the nameless ones, wh< were all placed on an equality within thesi walls, from which she felt an intense desin j to escape. She was qualifying herself for ; I teacher, in the hope of entering a field ir i which site could expect promotion. She hat ; faith in her ability, and an unlimited pow j er of self-concentration on any cherishet j aim; and devoted to the higher branches o education every moment which she coult I spare from her regular duties. It can read i ily be understood that she was not a favor ite, for utter selfishness seldom wins likinj or esteem, in any position of life. Still, slu possessed a certain importance, even in tin eyes of those who were repelled by her colt j and haughty bearing, and who would a little have dreamed of seeking to be famil iar with her as of courting warmth on tin surface of an iceberg, i She was really of a better class than tin majority of her associates, and the superin - tendent had suggested her appointment ti ? a responsible position in the Asylum, bu her reluctance to accept it had caused hin - to withdraw the suggestion, and offer thi 1 appointment to another. 3 The conversation briskly carried 01 among the others was seemingly of no in 1 terest to her, as she never changed her po ' sition, or raised her eyes from the page be ) fore her. She did not even look up whei the door presently opened, and Mrs. Ellery t the matron, entered the room. But he name, uttered by that lady, claimed he notice, and she lifted her head with an en - quiring glance, mingled with an expreasioi t of something like annoyance at the inter l ruption. "ATnorriaipn." said Mrs. Ellerv. in a seri r ous tone, "I wish tospeak to you in private f Come with me into the next room." r Several pairs of wondering eyes followee the two as they withdrew to the farther enc ? of the dormitory, where there eonversatior 1 wasoutof reach of inquisitiveears. "Something's up," briefly remarket 1 Clara. i "Perhaps one of Mag's distant relative* has come to claim her," suggested Sophy 1 "You know those Bartons that she is alwayi talking about?" -p , } "I am happy to say I don't know them, i they resemble her," said Clara. "They art i welcome to carry her off if they want to.' "Mrs. Ellery looks as if she had the work , on her shoulders," observed another girl : "See how impressively she is talking." j "Don't stare at them," ordered Sophy , "If the business concerns us we'll find i f out in good time." i "Magdalen," Mrs. Ellery was saying "this may be a very advantageous onportu nityfor you, and I advise you to take dut 5 thought before you reject it. You liavt , made no secret of your anxiety to leave the Asylum, nor do I think it unnatural, know ing your past circumstances and your pres ent views, that you should feel this anxiety At the same time, as you are not obliged ye to seek asituation, you may continue to fine - a home among us if you prefer doing so i and I shall endeavor, as I have always done ) to make it a happy one for you." t "You have been very kind to mealways,' Magdalen answered, in a constrained tone , "I have tried to be so, my dear. At an} i rate, I wish to leave your choice perfectly [ unbiased, while at the same time, as I have j just said, I incline favorably towards the ? proposal I have received." i "Does a companion mean a servant ?" ask ed Magdalen with a deepening flush on hei i cheeks. "By no means; particularly not, as J > should judge, in the present case. Mrs I Fairfax seems a most gentle and refinec person, and with her I feel assured yoi would suffer no kind of degradation. Wil 3 you come down now and speak to her? \V< I must not keep her waiting too long." t "I will be ready in a minute or two," re r plied Magdalen. "Don't wait for me I please." f "Very well, you can follow me to th< - parlor." When Mrs. Ellery had gone, Magdaler i went to her dressing-table to smooth hei 3 hair and arrange her collar, scrutinizing, ai , she did so, her image in the looking glass i with an anxious and critical air. "I wish I did not haveon this horrid dress she muttered to herself. The dress was re 1 ally not objectionable, consisting as it die 3 of a dark-brown gingham, nicely made, am 3 white frilled apron, but it was hateful ii 3 her eyes, as being the prescribed garb o 3 the institution. After lingering as long a r she could venture, she went slowly am 1 with a beating heart, down stairs, i In the little parlor used as a reception i room Mrs. Ellery was talking to a lady - young, slight and fair dressed in the deep l est mourning, and with an expression o t deep sadness on her sweet face. She raise* ) a pair of soft dark eyes to Magdalen, as tin girl entered the room, walking very erec 5 with a half defiant, half shy look and air 3 caused by mingled embarrassment an* - pride. ? "This is Magdalen Frost," said Mrs. El 3 lery. "Magdalen, this is Mrs. Fairfax, tin I lady I have been telling you of. I wil t leave you together, she added, rising fron 3 her seat, that you may come to a better un - derstanding than you might in the pres f ence of a third party. , Mrs. Fairfax also rose, extending he 1 hand, which Magdalen somewhat hesita tingly took. "Will you sit here besidi - me?" she said in a gentle and winnin; - tone, indicating a place on the sofa. Mag i dalen obeyed. , "I have been inquiring of Mrs. Ellery,' , continued Mrs. Fairfax, "as no doubt sh< has informed you, whether she could re - commend to me some good girl among he i pupils who would be competent to fill tin f post of companion. I am not strong?I havi . I hpen in irrpnt trouble?"her voice faltered i "and I am ordered abroad for change of ai 3 and scene. I am anxious to secure the so j ciety of an intelligent person who will de t vote her time to me, who will care for iw . if I should be ill, who will, in fact, prow , an assistant and friend, and relieve by he 1 companionship the loneliness of my posi ? tion. In return for these services I shal 2 bestow all the kindness and consideratioi s which I would give a relative, with a liber l al allowance of pocket money, furnish al i necessary clothing, and spare a reasonable i time for recreation and amusement. I an i not exacting, and usually get on well will - everybody. r "You are going abroad?" asked Magdalei , | with a sparkle of the eye. , "1 am, and just as soon as I can effec 1 this arrangement. I dare not go alone Of course 1 must stipulate that whoever ac r companies me as a companion is pledged t< c return with me when I come home." 2 "And Mrs. Ellery thought I might suit?' - half inquiringly, half doubtfully rejoine( 2- Magdalen. 3 "She did. She recommended two o - three other girls, but advised me to givi 3 you the first choice." r "And you are willing to have me ?" Iam willing to give you a trial. Mrs 3 Ellery has proposed that you should conn r to me for a week, that we may becom r acquainted. If, at the end of that time , we are mutually satisfied, our compact wil , be made." v Magdalen drew a long, tremulous breath "I should like to go," she said in a lov - tone; adding, with involuntary but sup - pressed energy, as she pressed her hand i tightly together, "Oh, so much !" Mrs. Fairfax regarded her earnestly. "Are you not happy here?" she asked. "No!" cried Magdalen with fervor. "May I ask the reason ?" i "Would you be happy, Madam, to spein t your days in a place like this, among s - many low people, who cannot sympathizi i with or understand you?who care nothini - about your being of good birth?who ridi f culeyour ambition?who are all on one com - mon place level ? I am a lady," said Mag rl<ilon oiionL-incr rnnidlv and Insinc all shv t ness in her new excitement. "My fathe t was a merchant, my mother was a clergy - man's daughter. We used to be rich whei . J was a child. Only poverty and misforl 3 une came upon us, and my father died, am - then my mother, and I had no home, so , was obliged to come here; but I hated it j and I hate it now." 3 "Still, they are not unkind to you ?" 3 "No. (), no," said Magdalen in a eoldc i tone. "Nobody is unkind. Mrs. Ellery, i i fact, is very good to me, and to every on 1 under her care. It is not of that I com - plain. Hut you can understand that I d 1 not feel at home here." She paused, am f after a moment added with returning cor 1 straint, "but I beg your pardon, I have n - right to intrude my feelings upon you. - forgot myself." ? "You are right to speak openly," gentt e replied Mrs. Fairfax. "1 wonder," sh e continued in a thoughtful tone, "whetlic 1 you would be happy with mef" s "I know that I should," said Magdale - with decision. b "You might find your duties irksomeit is not enlivening to wait upon an invalic e And you would find me dull, for indeed - have no heart to be gay." 0 "I don't want gayety," brusquely an t swered Magdalen. "Why should I? I hav* 1 not been used to it. But I want libertye liberty from this prison. I feel stifled here And I am considered a good nurse. I hav< n often helped in the wards here when ther - has been sickness." "So Mrs. Ellery told me. She says als< - that you are fond of reading. I should re i quire a good deal of reading aloud." , "Yes, I like reading; I never grow tire< r of it." r "Well," said Mrs. Fairfax, "I see that yoi - are intelligent, and I certainly do not wan i a stupid person for a companion. But o - the rest I can't feel sure until I know yoi better. How long will it take you to ge - ready to come with me?" "Now, do you mean ?" "Yes, my carriage is waiting. You wil i require but few things for the present, anc 1 there is no need of any delay." l "I can he ready 1 n ten minutes," saic Magdalen. 1 As she left the room she felt as if tread ing on air. She almost rushed up stairs 3 but composed herself as she reached th< . entrance to the dormitory, and walked ir 3 with her usual stately and indiffcrnt man ner. f "Well, Maggie," asked Sophy," is any ) thing the matter?" ' "The matter is," replied Magdalen with 1 assumed carelessness, "that 1 am goinj . away on a visit." "On a visit!" was echoed by several voices "Yes, for a week. I shall come bad t probably at the end of that time, but wheth er to stay or not I can't tell." , "Oh, you've been offered a place," ex - claimed Clara. And the others exclaimed ir i chorus, "Do tell us about it!" J "You can find out all you wish to know i from Mrs. Ellery," was Magdalen's an swer, for she was in no mood to gratify - their curiosity. With rapid fingers sh( . packed in a bag her Sunday suit and a few t other articles. This being done, she donuec 1 her hat and a light ulster, drew on hei , gloves, and with a parting glance at tin , looking glass was about to leave the room when she suddenly recollected herself anc ' turned back. "Good bye, all of you," she said extend' r ing her disengaged hand, her bag beinf ' held in the other. "I dare say you are noi ) much grieved to have me go. Say good J bye to all the rest, for I shan't have time.' She shook hands with them in turn, bul * Sophy Merton drew down her face anc r kissed her. "Goodbye, Maggie! we shall miss you [ But you are coming back, you said ?" "Most likely?I don't know anything I about it yet. Now, Sophy, you have pullec > my hat all crooked ! There, I must hurry.' 1 And she was gone. < A few minutes later, the children who happened to be near the gates gazed witl wonder and envy, as the tall figure of tin > young girl entered the handsome carriage driven by a coachman in livery, and was i speedily whirled away out of their sightthe same spectacle being more distantly i rthcorvori fmm cverv available nost of in r spection, by the other inmates of the Asy 3 lum. , [to he continued.] I HON. JOHN BIGELOW. Z The position of Third Assistant Treasur er of the United States is a very importan > one, and John Bigelow, who was nominat e ed by President Cleveland to succeed Hon _ Thomas 0. Acton at New York comes, int r a position which will yield him $8,000 pe e annum. John Bigelow was born at Mai e den, Ulster county, N. Y., in 1817, and grad _ uated from Union College in 18o5. H r studied law in New York City with ltob _ ert Sedgwick and in 1889 was called to th . bar. He employed the time not taken u] with hi* nniihssion. in literarv work, am e ~ t ??' 4/ e through his productions became ucquaintei r with prominent Democrats. Mr. Bigelow' . first official appointment was as Inspecto I of Sing Sing prison in 1844. In 1800 Mr 1 Bigelow became part owner of the Nev 1. York Evening l^o.st. In 1801 he was mad j consul to Paris and upon the death of Wil R liam L. Dayton, in 1800, was made Ministe 1 to France. In 1870 Mr. Bigelow re-visite< 1 Europe and resided in Berlin for tlire years. Returning to America in 1878 h 1 was appointed by Samuel J. Tilden as ow of the members of the commission to in t vestigate the management of the canals o 1# the State and in the fall of the same yea I was elected Secretary of State of New York 3 Since retiring from that office he has hel< no official position. Among his lite rap i works are "Jamaica, in 1800." "Wit am 1 Wisdom ol the Haytians," "Life of Frank lin," "Writings and Speeches of Samuel J r Tilden," etc , etc. How Russians Keep Waum.?TheRus sians have a great knack of making thei i. winters pleasant. You feel nothing of th e cold in those tightly built houses where al e doors and windows are double, and wher i, the rooms arc kept warm by big stove 1 hidden in the walls. There is no damp ii a Russian house, and the inmates may dres i. indoors in the lightest garbs, which contras v oddly with the mass of furs which they doi i- when going out. s A Russian can afibrd to run no risk of e.\ posure when he leaves the house for a wall or drive. 1 le covers his head and ears witl a fur bonnet, his feet and legs with felt boot lined with wool or fur, which are drawi over the ordinary boots and trousers, an< J reach up to the knees; he next cloaks him 0 self in a top coat with a lur couar, nnin: a and cuffs; he buries his hands in a pair o [r fingerless gloves of seal or bear skin. Thu - equipped, and with the collar of his coa i- raised all around so that it niutlles him u to the eyes, the Russian exposes only hi nose to the cold air; and he takes care fre r quently to give that organ a little rub t - keep the circulation going. Astrangerwh 11 is apt to forget the precaution would ofte: get his nose frozen if it were not for th :l courtesy of the Russians, who will ahvay 1 warn him if they see his nose "whitening, and will, unhidden, help him to chafe i vigorously with the snow. r IIr.Mir.iTV.?Humility has this consoln n tion. It finds that the greatest minds hav e had the least conceit; that Shakespeare ben i- down from the imperial height of his in o tellect to be taught by a clown, to be in d formed by a milkmaid; that Socrates i i- his celebrated voyage in search of know! 0 edge with his perpetual question concernin 1 the cause of things, found that knowlege i a workman's shop which he could not flm y amongst the school of professors or philo.? e ophers; that Newton compared himself t ;r a child who, playing on the seashore, ha< picked up a shell here and a stone there n and knew no more of them. The bullet r steel is worn smooth and polished when i - has passed through the gizzard of an o< 1. trich. The most conceited young prig wli I ever lived will find his level when brough to the rude experience of the whole work ' ^Miscellaneous Reading. e EVERY DAY SALT. 3 Salt in the household has two chief uses; it is a food and it has valuable antiseptic :> properties. Most persons are aware that - common salt, or chloride of sodium, is one of the many mineral salts that form a con1 stant part of the human body and therefore is necessary in human food. The others are all J found combined in ordinary articlesof diet, t Wanting lime for the children, we have ref course to milk, to wholemeal or to oatmeal. i We do not eat phosphate of lime, nor even t benefit greatly by taking to lime water as a beverage. When sailors, and even landsmen, are suffering from a short supply ol 1 potash salts it is not found at all useful to 1 buy dry potash at the chemist's, but their health mends when they get fresh fruits 1 and greens, potatoes or lime juice. Com mon salt is the only mineral tnat we namt ually consume as lood, and it plays a very , important part in digestion and absorption 3 of all other foods. i It is strange that this, as well as many - peculiarities in the behavior of salt that the housewife will be inclined to regret, are - due to its power of taking up water whereever the two meet. There are incurably 1 damp walls because the mortar contains I salt. Boots and clothing can never be properly dried after they have been soaked with . sea water, and the table salt is never in : good order duringdamp weather unless it is - redried every day in the oven. Moreover, the salt used as antiseptic acts partly by ab stracting moisture from the meat, and as l the moisture is not pure water, but a solution of various salts and food materials, it ' follows that salt meat is never so nourish ingas fresh. ' In a diet of salt meat it is generally al3 lowed that it is not the excess of common ' salt that is called chiefly injurious, but the 1 deprivation of other matters that are taken r from the meal and that are supplied again i in lemon or vegetables. An excess of salt is , no doubt bad, because of another effect proi duced by the love of salt for water; it is provocative of thirst, and an excessive amount of even the most harmless liquids ; does make up for it, while many popuiar t liquids are not perfectly harmless. Quad rupeds are found to thrive better on moist ' food than on dry food and water, and evit dence te. ds to prove that bipeds resemble I them in this particulr as in many others. The Meteoric Shower of 1832.?It was a rain of fire, not stars. The stars, or : sparks, only occurred at the end of the lines I of fire. Imagine a rain of molten iron ' striking the earth, each drop bursting into sparks. Nothing else will compare. I > could not now describe it, if experience 1 with foundries and smith-shops had not ' afforded the comparison. The fire fell in i streams like the heaviest nre rain i ever 3 witnessed and swayed to and fro just as the - water is by the motion of the clouds or 7 wind. The only stars I saw were just such as one sees when molten iron is running in to or from the ladle, or when iron with a welding heat is withdrawn from the forge, or such as seen when the liquid metal drops upon earth, or such as is seen in the wake ol an exploded rocket. The strangest feature to me was no sparks or stars appeared except at the end of the line of lire rain, which stopped about five feet from the earth, as near as I can judge. The piazza had three steps from the ground. I could not have been more than three feet high, and the line of rain burst into sparks on a level with my eyes. None that I saw struck the earth, but after sparkling on this line disappeared, to be succeeded by others in quick succession. I recollect distinctly observing the scene around the yard, and the road led directly from the gate, and wondering why none of the fire or sparks reached the earth. It was not as light as day, but a lurid light greater than I have ever seen since. Objects were perfectly discernible, though not so well as by day1 i gh t.?Blaokshear Georrjian. The Invention of Ink.?When ink was introduced does not seem to have beer decided, but given the paper and the pen a colored medium which would show on * light surface was so obvious a want, anc one so readily found, that there is no extraordinary credit due to the unknown inven tor. It appears to be only of comparatively late years that black ink has been almosi " universal. Roman ink was red, purple anc 1 gold, and inks of blue, green, violet anc " other shades were not uncommon. Itissaic ' that simple as is the combination of ink [) "we possess none equal in beauty to thai r used by the ancients; the Saxon manu " scripts written in England exceed in coloi " anything of the kind." Modern ink-maker: e will deny the superiority of the ancients " hut who shall say whether words writter ??.. ... -i 1 x_ .1 _..:n _x ; w in me inK manuiaciureu co-uay win smut t? as vividly centuries hence as those Saxor J manuscripts have stood? It is difficult tc 3 see how the writing materials of the preS' s ent day can be improved upon forconvenr ience at least, setting aside questions o! * lasting inks, which the generation that use? them cannot settle. Paper, rough and e smooth, fluent inks of any color that the ' writer may believe suitable to his eyes, !: pens as tine as a needle or as blunt as a J spade, are all to be bought on every street, e The great lack of the age seems to be ideas ? at once more novel and sensible in the 13 record of which these serviceable materials J, may be employed.?London Standard. r How to Take Leave.?Not all have j learned the fine art of leave-taking in an appropriate manner. When you are aboul j to depart, do so at once gracefully and po> litely, with no dallying. Don't say, "It is " | about time I was going," and then begin ' i again and talk on aimlessly for another ten | minutes. Some people have just such ? ' tireseme habit. They will even rise and stand around the room in various attitudes r keeping their hosts also standing, and then e by an effort succeed in getting as far as the I hall, when a new thought strikes them e They brighten up visibly and stand foi s some minutes longer, saying nothing of imII portance, but keeping every one in a rest ? I less state. After the door is opened the i prolonged leavetaking begins, and every' n \ body in general and particular is invited tc | call. Very likely a last thought strike: i the departing visitor, and his friends musl i j risk a cold in order to hear it to the end 11 There isno need of being offensively abrupt s but when you are ready to go, go, and have [j! done with it. i" Correct Speaking?What is it to speak 17 correctly? It is to accustom ourselves tc f speak and write accurately, having specia s care to use no language or utter any state t ment that is not elegant or strictly truthful P Avoid the use of all slang words and phras s j es. They are odious, and no amount o | personal grace in the speaker can compen 0 ' sate lor the disagreeable effect that the use o #,r clonnr imnn the hearer. When once 11 the iiabit of using these slang phrases haf e been formed, it is almost impossible tc s eradicate it. Youth is the best time to cor " ' rect language. It does not require wealth 11 the poorest can obtain the faculty. And I how? By using the language of books?ir : other words, that which one reads. For th( i- i taste of the best speakers and writers e | treasure up choice phrases, and accustoir tj yourself to their use. But do not fall intr i-1 the opposite error of selecting only thai i-1 which is pompous and high sounding, foi n that will make one ridiculous. But choos< [- the language which is terse, expressive g and the habit of correct speaking soon be n comes fixed, and makes it a pleasure to lis d ten to you. o &3T How much easier it is to see defect; d than to see beauties in anything at whicl >, we look. No art education is requisite t< if the perceiving of a broken arm or a nose 01 it an ancient Grecian statue, or of the weathe: 3- stains on the marble surface; but it doe: o require a trained eye and a cultivated tasti it to recognize the lines of beauty and the to 1. kens of power in a discolored and batteret fragment of a master-work of art. And so it is in the reading of a book or in the observing of a character: the ability to perceive that which is worthy and that wnich is admirable is higher and rarer than the ability to percive errors and flaws. This : truth has been newly illustrated in the re; cent Sunday School study of the life and i writings of David. No teacher or scholar has been too stupid not to see David's i faults. Only here and there has been one noble enough and clear eyed enough to recognize the exceptional high qualities and the transcendant attractions of character which lift David above his fellows as a man among men, and which have given , him a larger personal influence for good over the minds and hearts of succeeding !" generations than any other mere man since i the world began. And so, again this truth is continually being illustrated. Let him i who would have the credit of superior ability be careful not to criticise or condemn too freely; for that is a sure mark of infeI rioritv. The power to point out beauty and worth where others would pass it by is in itself a proof of excellence. Why cannot all aim at that high standard??Ex, change. | ? ? Contrast Between Generals Taylor and Scott.?In writing of his Mexican war experiences Gen. Grant gives an interesting contrast between Gens. Taylor and Scott, as follows: "I had now been in battle with the two leading commanders conducting armies in a foreign land. The contrast between the two was very marked. Gen. Taylor never wore a uniform, but dressed himself entirely for comfort. He moved about the field in which he was operating to see throngh his own eyes the situation. Often he would be without staff officers, and when he was accompanied by them there was no prescribed order in which they followed. He was very much given to sitting on his horse sideways, with both feet on one side, particularly on the battle-field. "Gen. Scott was the reverse in all these particulars. He always wore all the uniform prescribed or allowed by law. When he inspected his lines word would be sent to all divisions and brigade commanders in advance notifying them of the hour when the commanding general might be expected. This was done so that all the army might be under arms to salute their chief as he passed. On these occasions he wore his dress uniform, cocked hat, aiguilletes, saber and spurs. His staff proper, besides all officers constructively on his staffengineers, inspectors, quartermasters, etc.? followed also in uniform and in prescribed order. Orders were prepared with great care, and evidently with a view that they should be a history of what followed." Strength of Hair.?Although a hair is I so extremely tine and delicate in appearance it is surprisingly sirong, and it has been scientifically proved that a single hair will support a weight of about four ounces. Its strength, however, varies with the texture, size and age of the hair. With hair and with communities union is strength. A woman with long hair was exhibited in i London in 1786 who used to envelop a weight of 200 pounds in her tresses and lift it by their means from the ground, i It has been estimated that the weight of an audience of 200 people might be supported ' by the hair of a single head in that audience, and the combined strength of the hair of 100,000 people represents a breaking ; strength of 2,000,000 tons. The length of i hair varies greatly, but that it grows quicker if cut frequently is a fallacy. Dr. Pinens i cut off circles of hair about an inch in diami eter from the heads of healthy men, and compared the growth of these patches with 1 that of the rest of the hair. He found that, I contrary to common belief, the growth rate i generally became slower after cutting; that i in some cases the hair of the patches grew at the same rate as that of other hair; hut ' he never observed any increase of rapidity in their growth. Formation of an Iceberg.?The birth J of a huge icebeberg, a phenomenon that has been seen only once or twice by a European, ' and to a certain extent has remained a matter of theory, was observed by the Danish ; explorers on the east coast of Greenland last summer. The bergs are formed by break'r ing off from the end of glaciers extending , from the perpetual ice of the unexplored [ interior to the coast and into the sea. The water buoys up the sea end of the glacier . until it breaks by its own weight with a noise that sounds like loud thunder miles ! away. The commotion of the water, as the iceberg turns over and over in the effort to " attain its balance is felt to a great distance along ihe coast. The natives regard it as . the work of evil spirits, and believe that to ' look upon the glacier in its throes is death. , The Danish officers, when observing the Mt xi 1 ^ C j.U~ DreaKirig on oi Hie euu 01 me great giaujci Puissortok, through their telescopes, were roughly ordered by their Esquimau escort, usually submissive enough, to follow their example and turn their backs on the interesting scene. They had happily completed their observations, and avoided an embar, rassing conflict with their crew by a seem' ing compliance with the order. 1 Hendricks as a Lawyer and a Wit.? | "Gov. Hendricks was a great lawyer. His , reputation as a young lawyer at Shelby ville made him a member of the Legislature, and he made much money at his law practice. He could makea jury believe he was taking ? each of them into his confidence, and he ' was so politic in his utterances and underl stood human nature so well that he made a ' good advocate. He was very well read in ' the law, and had a good library. He was ' a hard student, and he was methodical in his work. He had lectured some, but I don't *hink he was a success at that. He I lacked the element of making a crowd laugh. He once said in regard to this: "I j can't be funny. It is not in me to be fun, ny. I cannot even repeat a joke accepta' lily. I tried it once in the campaign for ; Governor with Henry S. Lane. He told two or three capital anecdotes which I got pretty well by heart, and thought I could [ turn the tables against him by telling them ; at our next joint debate. Somehow they " were not taking. The people did not laugh, , and when he got up to answer me he made l more fun of my using his jokes than the jokes themselves ever provoked. I have ; not tried to be funny since."? Correspon- ? ^ dent Cleveland Leader. eGF There is one province of Turkey that . even in time of peace suffers many of the ) horrors of war. This is the classic province I of Macedon. In that region it is not uncommon to see a Greek, Bulgarian, Turkish and Albanian village standing side by [ side, each as an Alien from the others as f though separated by the Alps. It results . that the dissentions so universal throughout > Turkey in Europe find here their vital 1 knot. Each race in Turkey claims this \ province on grounds which no one can dis, pute. Even in times of peace the whole . province swarms with brigands, and one . is hardly safe outside the walls of Salonica. | Of the different competitors for the owner, ship of the province the sympathies of our ? people rather side with the Greeks. But it is hard to believe that any small power J will emerge from a General Turkish war , with any prize of value. For in the lap of t that unhappy peninsula, a new apple of disr cord has been thrown on which is written, j "To the strongest." 1 Almanacs in France.?In France there . are publishing firms that have no time to turn out anything but almanacs, and this fall there are more than ever. The alman3 ac for mothers is one that mothers could 1 not be expected to do without, and the al) manac for daughters is presumably not to i go into hands of mothers. There are comic r almanacs and serious almanacs (though not s so many serious ones, and a popular alman3 ac counts its sale by millions. Perhaps this - is one of the things they do better in France 1 than in England.