Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

^ ~ ~~ ~~~ " CHARLESTON^ S. C., CHRISTMAS DAY, 1868. Christmas Long Ago. a PLAcnxvs ASD coJTPLArsnvE Dirri, PUP POSED TO BE HUXa BX OUA.SUMillA OL.UUAY, AGED BEV EKTT-VIVE. Since, Uten, my elnar*, ye'll liare me slug, I'll try what t aaa do. And back old recollections bring, Thus to recount io you, What glorious days those were wbeu I Wore frock and furbelow ; When Christmas time was in its prime. Long, long ago. No treacherous robo old Christmas woro, Of sunshine fringed with mut ; The lakes and ponds wore frozen o'er, And shoes were shod with list ; Tho pathways as you trudged along Were ankle-deep m snow, When Christmas timo wat in its prime, Long, long ago. No noisome railways than had we The court try to def ac? ; Our fonr-herse ooacb, a treat to sos, Went dashing through the place ; By which from London, ouee a year, Came brothers, Ned and Joe, When ObrisLBsas time was in its prime. Long, long ago. That horrid gas, which flares and throbs, " Was not In bouses thrust ; Nor stuck up-stoves ashamed ot hobs, Aad Jsolf amid of dust; Bright wes the nam? from wax or oil, Orates gave a genial glow. When Christmas timo wss in its prims, Long, leug ago. Books thea wire books; a Chri?tm gifts Ton scarce could carry home; Sa large to span, so bard to lift A real substantial tome. No phantom leaves in naring boards. Designed for merest skew. When Christmas tims was ia its prime, Lang, long ago. At table, think yen, you could ste Bisgolsed aad tortured mest ? Making sae ask ita history, With aamea ene oan't repeat. Good beef and mutton, perk and veal, Ranged thea in honest row. When Christmas time was tn its prim.**; Long, long ago. On Christmas day, tb? dinner hour T*wards night we did net fix; Two was the time, or pa looked sour KOBO of your naif-past six. Thea joined we aRia "Bondman's Buff," Or would the slipper throw; When Christmas time was In ita prims, Long, long age. Ah, fan, lt thea was faa Indeed I Net furious, nor fist ; But mirth that moved with decorous spoed And warranted to lost ; Ko whirling waltz, no potka bop, But maaaurts grave and slow ; Wken Christmas time was in its prime, Long, long ago. The wemen thea were passing fair, Nor steel nor whalebone wore ; A plain black fillet bound their 1 air. Neat aprons hung before. Tippets disposed iu ample form. And caps OH white aa saew ; When Christmas tims was rn its primo, Leng, long ago. Aa for tba moa-or dork or fair Appeared tkey Cbtistian-wise ; Not covered o'er with natty bair, Nor dressed like foreign guts. Smooth, then, and gentle the salute, Beneath the mistletoe. When Christmas time wa3 ia its prime, Long, long ago. But, bless me 1 how I'm nianing on ; 'Tia time I made on end ; There's BO one now but Uncle John To old lang syae a fri md. Should you, my dears, live to my ye irs, 'Twill be> your turn to know Th3 difference 'twixt Christmas now And long, long ago. MT WIFE'S FSfiMfSEi Tlie Demon of tho North. BX SOBS M. E. BUADDOK. It was my fate at an early period of my life to abandon myself to the delights of a eire or which of eil others exsreises the most potent fascination over the mind of him wno pursues it. As a boy, I joined a band of bravo adven? turers in au Arctic expedition, and from the hour in which I first uaw the deep cold blue of the northern sea, and felt the subtle influence of the rarefied polar air, I was for nil common purposes and objects of life a lost man. The expedition was unfortunate, though its leader was a wise and scientific navigator-his SUD jr- ? dinates' picked mon. The result was bitter disappointment and more bitter loss-loss of valuable lives as well as of considerable funds. < I came back from my cruise in the Weather- j wise, to the Western world, rejoiced beyond measure at the idea of being on :e more at i home, and determined nover again to face the : horrors of that perilous region which had loa me so many dear companions. I, Richard .Pnnrayne, was the elder son of a wealthy ESlise, and there were few positions whicn need have been impossible for mo had I as? pired to the ordinary career affected by British youth. I had been indulged in my early pas? sion for the sea in my later rage for Arctic ex? ploration, and it was hoped that I should now settle dowu to a pursuit more coaso-iant with the views and wishes of my people My mother wept over her restored treasure, and confessed hew terrible had been her fears during my absence; my father congratulated me upon haring liddon my hobby, and alighted there? from without a broken neck, and my family anxiously awaited my choice of a profession. Bach a choice I found impossible. If I had bartered myself body and soul, by moat ex? plicit formula, to some demon of the iceberg, . or incarnats spirit of tbe frozen sea, leonid . not have been moro completely bound than I was. Limy dreams, again and again, with maddening repetition. I trod the old paths, and saw, ghastly white against the intense purple of the northern sky, the walls ef ice that had blocked our passage. It seemed io me that if I could but**"??? myself again in that dread solitude, succt^IWonld be a certainty. "A new expedition, aisled by the kn owlet go of the post, must succeed," I said to myself; and when I could no longer fight against the pro possession that held me, I consulted the sur? vivors of our unfortunate voyage, and found in their opinions the actual echo of my own convictions. My second voyage result:d in little actual success, but was to me ono prolonged scene af enjoyment. I was a skilful seaman and na? vigator, no indifferent sportsman, and having acquired some aught reputation during tbe previous voyage, now ranked high among the junior officers on boord the Ptarmigan. We wintered at Repulse Bay, with a short stock of fuel, and a shortor supply of pr ovisions ; but we managed with a minimum of the for? mer luxury, and supplied all doncincy of tho latter by the aid of our guns. The brief summer of that northern latitude brought us some small triumphs. We spout a second winter in snow-houses, which resem? bled gigantic bee-hives, and were tho snuggest possible habitations, and in the second sum? mer turned our course homeward, in oxcollent health and spirits. 1 returnod to Eugland to find my mother's grave bright with familiar autumnal flowers in a suburDun cemetery, and to know that the tender urina which had clung about me in the hqur of parting would never encircle me again. Tho blow was a seveie one, and for some time to come I thought with aversion of that strange northern world which had cost me, and which was yet to cost me, so much. Time passed, and I remained in England, at five-and-twenty years ot ago, a broken mau. Away from my ?ld oomrades of the Weathet wise and the Ptarmigan, 1 had not a iriend for whom I really eared; and as the civilized world drew day by day more distasteful to nie, tho old lording revived-the old dreams haunted my sleep. In my father's handsome drawing roems I yearned for the rough stone cabin of Ropulse Bay, or the snow-hives of Crozier. Another expedition was ?float, and letters from my old messmates announced anticipated tri? umphs, and warned mo of tho remorso which I should suffer when the hardy victors returned to reproach the idlor who preferred to live at home at ease, while other friends were drifting among tho ice-floes, ami bearding the grizzly .tyrant of the North. J let them go without mc, at what sacrifico waa only known to myself, liv father's health had been declining from tho hour of my moth? er's death, and I was determined not to leave bim. For three empty patient years I remain? ed at home ; my hands reverently clo3cd ihc eyes that bad never looked on mo but with af? fection, and I alono watched tho last quiet jjleop. This being done, I was free once moro, anil tho oJd infatuation held me closo as c My-fatber's death left mo wealthy, and ti miad wealth had but ono use. All tho yearnings nero intensified by ten fold, foi saddest reason. The Ptarmigan had n been board or since the hour sho left Bal Bay, and the fate of those familiar conn with whom I had lived in tho closest com nion for two happy veers was a dark eni.n only to be solved by "pationt labor. Thc e ditton had not bceti of sufficient importai? attract much atlentiou from tho. scicr world ; but when tho tact ot tho Ptarmig disappearance became known, a meeting ol Royal Society gave all due consideration tj case, and promised help to a party ol invi gatton. 'Mt amulo fortuno onabled me to contril largely to the expenses of tho new voy; while "volunteers! and voluntary contribu? poured in from every quarter. Wo were ai in all, six years, wintering sometimes in Sc America-ronco in Now York, and getting supplies as best we might. Wo made si discoveries which tho Royal Society recei with civil approval; but of thoso we wen seek wo lound no traco, and 1 bogan to tl that tho fate of my old friends ivas a mysi nover to be solved below the stars. I carno back to Englaud at thirty-four y( of agc, a hardy waudtrer. with a "lotnj bri boara that seemed lightly powdered with Northern BUOW, and with tho strength t sea-lion. For the best years of my life I lived in anow-bives and stono cabins, or si at night amidst the whito wilderness ice, in a boat my stalwart shoulders i helped to carry daring the day. Heave what a rough, unlicked cub, what a grim s monster I must have been; and yet ls;i Lawson loved rae 1 Yes, I came back to ? loud to find a fairer enchantress than tho sp of the frozen deep, and to barter my libsrty a new mistress. Ono of my eistet s had m ried during my absence, and it was at '. country house i took up my abode. The yot sister "of her husband, Captain Lawson, \ h?" re on a visit, and thus I met my fate. How I grew to love Lor I will not ask mys ?.he was a creature- whem to know was to lo How sho grew to love mc is a mystery I h; ofton tried to solve; and when I had asked h with fear and wondcriug, why I was so bless she told m 3 it was because i was brave a frank and tr ie, and worthy of a woman's lo God help mj darling, the glamour o?'tbefro? North was upon ruo, aud thc mere story o; t wondrous world I knew had magic enough wia mo tho boort of this au gol. She was no tired of beariug me describe that wild regio loved ao well. Again and again I told bert histories of my several voyages, and the rece seemed always to have a new charm for her "I think 1 know every Channel in Da1. Strait and Baffin's Bay." she said lo mc a d or two before our weddin?; "asd tbe iccbou coast, from Repulse Bay to Capt* Crozier, a the ice-packs over which you carried yo boats, and the shoals of seals and clouds du cks, and the colony of whito whales, and t dear httlo snow-houses in which you lived snugly. Don't 3*011 think we ought to epo oar honeymoon at Capo Crozier, Richard V" "My precious one, uod forbid that I shot over seo you in that wild place."' ."Be s?re, Richard, if you went there, should follow you." And she kept ber word. D eamlike, and ob, bow mournful seems t] bright scene of my bridal dav, as I iccall to-night besido a lonely hearth in tho house a stranger. My Isabel looked like a spirit her fairy robe aud vail; aud I, to whom ll memories of the North were ever preset could well-nigh have landed sho was clad in suow-cloud. I asked her if she wero conto: to have given her young beauty to a batten veteran like mc; and she told me yes, a thoi sand times more thoa content- inexpressib happy. "But you w?T never leave me, Bichard ?" si said, looking up at me with diviue love in hi deop-bluo ?yes; au a I promised again, as I hs promised many times before, that the Nor! should nover draw rao away hom my belove* "You shall be my pole-s tar, dearest, and will forgot that earth has any v. ilder regia than the woods and hills around our haprj homo." My darling loved tho country, and I loved a that was dear to ber; so I bongin a small os tat in .North Davon-a ..Tange and park in th heart vt sues w-n^-ui.i'.'u ?u ??u ???? . ?ww in that Western shire. The tvs .oration of th honso and the improvement <i? the park, em ployed me for moro than a year-and dmiu| the whole of that time I had scarcely though of the North. With Ibo beginning of our see ond year of happy union, I bail even leds iueii nation to tluakof my ?1(1 life; for God ha? blessed us with a son, puro and blooming au< beautiful as the region in which be was born. Upon this period of my Uro 1 dare not lic?cr For nearly two years we'held our troi-^uro; ant if anything could have drawn usnccror to cacl other than our lovo had made us long a?J, il would havo been our affoction tor tins ctiild. He was taken from us. I Lv.d my darling ic his gravo under the midsummer sky, while om bird was singing high uo iu the Heaven when [ tried to picture hun, among a band of sucl cbiid-angels; and I kucw that life could ne wi again bc to me what it hal been. For somo time my sorrow was a kind of stu por-a dull, dead heaviness ol' tho soul, fruit which nothing could raise me. Isabel'd grid was no loss intenso, no less bitter ; but it wai more nutnral and moro unstylish. She grov alarmed by my state of mind, and entreatct me to try a change of scone. "Lot us go to L-judon, Richard," sho said "I ohali bo g ad to leave this place, bcautifu and dsar as it is." Her pale fa co warned mo that she had sat ncod of chango ; and tor ber sake rather thai my own, L took her to London, wboro w* lnrei a turn ta h ed house in a western square. Being in town, and an nile man, with nc London tastes a- d no friends, it is sc noe i 3 strange that I should attend tba meetings 0! the Boyal Society. The fate of Franklin was yet unknown, and the debates upon this sab J act wera at fever heat. A new expedition wai just being filiad out by thc government, ant there could bo no better opportunity fer a Viii unteer baud, which might follow in tho tracli of tho government vessel. lu the rooms of the society 1 encountered an old comiado. and he exerted his utmost powers of persuasion to iaduoi? me to join himself and other* in a northward cruise tu search for Fran ki m and tor our lost o nu pan? ions of the Ptarmigan. The proposal flattered me moro than I eau descube, and caused ms the first thrill of ploasnre I had known since my son's death. But I remembered my pro? mise. It was my habit te tell my wife everything; and I told her of the dobates at the Royal So? ciety, and of this mooting with au old com? rade. ..Bat you will koep your promise, Richard?" aha asked, with a sudden look of fear. "Until tho eud of life, ray darling, uulees you should release me from it." **0 Richard, that ia not likely; I am not ca? pable of such a sacrilicp." I went again and again to thc Royal S ocicty and i-dinod at a club with my friend Hirt yu, who made me knowu to his fneads. those* Bagar volunteers who sauted for tho icy winda of ibo Arettc ZJIIC, aud languished to lro.id Hie LM z.n labyrinth of polar seas. I listened to them, I talkod with them, and the demon of the North reaumod his hold upon mc. My wifo saw that some dew influence was at work.; that my home life was ne longer all iu all to nie. Ona day, after mush anxious questioning, site beguiled me of my secret. The o d yearn? ing was upon me. 1 lold hir bow every im? pulso o' my mind-overy longing of my heart-urged me to jo.u trio new enterprise; aud how, ior her dear sake, I was dotormincd to forego tiio certainty ot pleasure, and thc chancos of distinction. She thanked mo with a sigh. "I suud between you and thc purpose o? your life, Richard," sue saul; '"how seliish I must seem to you !" '.No, darling, only teuder and womanly." The prc park i ions for the voyage lasted longer than had boan anticipated. Mouths wont hy and I still lingered in town, though 1 k :cw that Isabel would havo preferred 10 return to Devonshire. I ooold uot tear myself away while the Forlorn Hope, the vessel chartered by me brewer, was still iu dock. 1 saw the ad von tu? rora almost daily, assisted in their preparations, pored over the chart with them, and tra vd.el .over every inch of ibo okigrouud with .1 pencil for their edification. lt was within a week of tho departure, aud the fever and excitement of prepara! ion was strong&r upon me than on any ono of the inten? ding voyagera, when my wife carno io me suJ deulv oiic morning, aud threw herself, sobbing, into my arm*. "My dear Isabel, what is this?" I asked in alarm. "O, Richard, you must go," she sobbed: "I cannot hold yon trora your destiny. My selfish fours aro killim: yon. 1 can seo it iu your face. You must go to'that wild awful world, where Hoavea han guarded you in safety bf toro, and will guard and guido you again. Yes 1 ralease rou from your promise. Is powerful to protect you yonder than 1 mad'j that world of ctorual ice and s where He is there is safety. No, fticlia not dospair. I will not stand bet vecn fame. I heard you talking in your si nicht, as you havo talked many nights dit taut solitude, and I know that your there. Shall I koep my husband prism his heart has fled from me? No, Rich shall go." She kissed me, aud fell fainting at mv was blinded by my own selfish folly, not perceive how much of her fortitude courage of des air. I thought only generosity, and my release. It was not for mo to accept the command of the Hepo. I thanked my wifo with a 1 kisses as her sweet eyes oponod upon i more. "My darling, I shall nover forget cried'; "and it shall be tho last joan very last. I swear it by all that is mos to me. There is no danger, believe mi for a mao who has learned prudence ai done-tu the school of hardship." There was onlv a rfeok for leave-takiu "I can beni- it better so," said my wifo a blow cannot bo too sudden." "But, my darling, it ia no moro thi other absence ; and, remember, it is to last time." "No, Richard, do not tell mo that. I know you better than you know yours man cannot serve Uo masters. Your is there. He beckons you away from m "Bat for the last time, Isabel." '"Well, ves." she answered with a pr si?th, "I think that when you and I sa> bye next week, we shall part for the last Thc sadness of her tout) ss-unnatl thc occasion ; uer did 1 remark tho mclai significance of her words. "I will make you a flag, Richard,'' sb io monoxtday. "If you should discov new spot pf land out yonder, you will i raiao tbe British standard there, and Is like to think that my bauds arc associato your triumph." She set to work upon tho fabricati; Union Jack. I remcmberod a melauchi cidoat m the life ot Sir Juba franklin, hardly cared to see her thus employed; could not sadden her with the story, at worked on, with a happier au* than I have behoved possible to her. Alas! 1 kuew that this gaiety was but aa heit sumption sustained to save mo pain. My darling insisted upon exammin? charts, and made me show her every s our projected journey-the point whei hoped to winter-the land whirh we inti to exploro on sledges-the spots whci should erect cairns to mark our prograss dwelt on every detail of the journey wi interest intense as my own. "I think 1 know that dial ant world ai as you, Richard,'' s\e said to rae . n tb day of all. "In my dreams I shall I oil-yes, I kn OT that I shall dream o every night, and Hut my dreams will bo There must be some magnetic chain bet two beings so closely united as wa aro, ? am sure that sleep will show yon to ma ni are-safe or iu danger, triumphant or des) ent. And in my waking dreams, too, de shall bo on your track. My lifo will be a hie one-the dull commonplace existent home, where my body must needs be. am mystic lifo yonder, whore my soul trill ii you. And, dear husband," she contin olingirg to me, and looking up with a 1 ghi in her eyes, "if I should die before i o turn-" "Isabel I" "Of conreo that is not likely, you know; if I should ba takea from you, dalling, i will know it directly. Yes, dour, at tho de J hour my spirit will fly to you fur tL. last parting look upon earth, ?is surely as I ho] will await you in Heaven !'; ! I tried to chide her for her weird Scot superstition; but this spooch of hers, aud looks that accompanied it, shook mi* moro I I cared to confess to myself; and if it had t possible to recede with honor, 1 think I sh( have resigned the command of tho fori Hope, and stayed with my wife. 0, God, I I hud dono so, at any cost of honor, at sacrifice of friendship." lint ray futo drew me northward, anil I wt we had choson for our winter harbor at end of August. Here wo walled our ve> round with snow, and roofed her over, and tins grim solitude prepared to await the oj: iris seas of summer. To mo thc winter sec cd unutterably long and dreary. I was longer the careless bachelor who found amii mci it iu tho rough sports of tho Bailers, ; delicrbt in au occasional raid upon tho reind ol' tho ice-bouud ro ts;. 1 had. iudeed, tr te serre two masters; and tho memory of '. I had left behind was ever with ino, a re proa ful shadow. If, now. I coul.t have rcea?lod i past aad found myself once more by ti hearth boside which I had languished for I ?ld life of adventure, how gladly would I h; made tho exchange ! Tho summer came, the massive ice-pat wcro loosened with Boonda as of (hinder, a drilled away beforo a southern bre?se. 1 our freedom brought us nothing .-avj dist pointuient-uo traces of our friends ot t flannigan gladdened our eyes, au discovt rewarded oui- patience. Scuiyy had cost tour el'our beat men, aud l?e crew wa-* slit) handed. Beforo tho summer waa ended had moro deaths, and when tue next mill began, Marlyn und 1 faeod il drearily, with t prospect of "scant stores and scanter fuel, a with a sickly and disheartened crew. beforo thc coldest season set in, wo left o vessel ia tolerably safe harbor, and started a laud expedition, Mill html on our search I traces of the mis.-iag Ftaruiigan. Ne wot can paint the desolation of this ?vild region no mind can imagine that horror of parpe ti snotr, illimitable as c!orai>.l. 7Vo bad hr.pod fall ni with a 'ribo Ol Itsqu.manx, bal s;iw no alter those /roui whom wc bought our dogs. So we toilod on, appalled by the gri chance iu each other's lornu and laces, as sin. rations and fatigue did their worii. Trio di* winter found us again reduced in number. V" baili ourselves * roomy snow house with cabin for tho dosrs, and nero ray friend, Fral .Martyn, lay sick with three ruber iuvalii throughout our hopeless Christin :s. My w? health held out wonderfully, aly spirits ?a wau the extremity o? trial, and I ?aced t. darkeniag future boldly, beguiling myself tri! drcaw-pieturea of my return home, and n wile's glad lace wucn she looked up from h< lonely hearth aud saw mc standing on tl threshold of thc door. It was Christmas day. Wo had dined c pemmican, biscuit and ?co. Spirits wo h.i none, save it lit tie carefully stored in ease ol' u gi'nt need. After our brief repast the ab men went ont iu a body in Bcarch of sport fi their guns, but willi littie hope of finding HIV Hung. Tue invalids slept, aud I sal by th fi ru ot dried moss which served io ligia uv. hui., with iii? aid ot a glimmer of cold du daylight that came to us through a window c transparent ice iu tho root. 1 wa. thinking or England and my wife what else did I ever t:nnk of now ?-when oa of kee mon rushed suddenly imo thc hut. au fell ?in tho snowbank thai served for u bend He was whiio lo th? lips, and shivering aa c mart shivers from cold alone. "Good Uo;l, Hanley, wnal is thc matter?" cried, alaraicu hy me man's terror. .'I went away from toa others, Captain," h bogan, ia rapid, gashing accents, "thinking saw the traces of a bear upon the snow, and had parted from them about half an hour who I saw-" His veiee died away suddenly, and he sa bofei'C me, with lips that moved but made n sound. "What? For pity's sake speak o ii, mau." "A wowan !" "Yes; and of an Esquimaux tribe, no doubt Why didn't you hail, aud bring her batik to US Why, you must bo mad, Hanley, iou Imo* how we havo been Wishing to fall iu with sonn ol' thoso pe-iplc, and \ou sec one, and lei he slip through your fingers, and come baci sc.tred, as ;i you'd seen a ghost." "That's it,'your honor," tho mau ans wer0: hoarsely. "What I saw was a ghost." -Hou'acnn, mau." "But I say yea, Captain, and will stand bj my word. She was before me, weving slowi; over the snow; you couid ee-ice cai! it walk mg, 'twas sueu "i smooth gliding ino! ion. Mil was dressed iu whito-no common dress-bu ona t hat tarns the Heart cold only to trunk of Winlc I stood, lou scared to move hand or loot she turned and beckoned to ute, and f saw hci lace as phau as 1 seo yotus this moment- : sweet face, with blue cyej, and loug fair hail lalimg loosely round it.'' 1 was on my foot iu a moment, and rush inf toward tho door. "Groat God ol Heaven!" I cried, "ni' wife !" Tue conviction that possosscd me was sn promo. From tho moment in which thc sai.o. described tho figure ho had seen, thore was m shadow of doubt in my mind. It was Isobel, and sho oiily. The wife who hod Dromised that her spirit should follow mo stop by step upon my desolat?1 journey was near mo now. For one moment only 11 onsideiod the possibility or im? possibility of her presence, and pondered whothor a northern-bound vessel might havo brought ber to on Esquimaux .sr->tio>i near at band that wo knew not of ; for one instant only, and thou I was hurrying across the snow in tho direction to which the sailor pointed as he stood al the door of our hut. The brief winter div wi? closing in, and there was only a long lino ot faint yellow lie-bl in tho west. Eastward tho moon was rising, pale and cold Uk ? that roe-ion o? oternr.l -mow. 1 bad lort our hut some two hundred yards be? hind me, wheu I saw a white-robed Uguie movine toward tho low western right: a fisrnra at once so dear, so familiar, and yet in that place so awful, that an iyy shiver shook me from head to heal as I looked upon it. 'Die figuro turned and beckoned. The swcot face looked at uc. awfully distinct iu that clear cold night. I followed, and it drew me on. far across ;i patch of snowy waste that I had left unexplored, or had no memory of travjrsmg until now.- 1 tried to overtiko tho familiar form, bu!, though its strange gliding:movement seemed slow, it eluded my pursuit, foll?n swiftly aa I might, lu this manner we crosson the wido. bleak waste, and a.s tho glimmer of the w. stern light died ont and the muon shone britrktcr on the fro nun plain wo carno lo a spot where thc snow lav m mounds-sovoti separate mounds ranged in the form of across beneath that wild northern sky. A glauce told me that civilizad hands had done thia work. Th? Christian emblem told mc more. Bat though I saw the suow-mouTds at my feet, my eves seemed never tu leave tho faco of my wife-0, God. how pale iu the moon? light I Hho pointed with extended finger to ono of the mounds, and I saw that it was headed by a I rough wooden board, almost buried in snow. To snatch a knife from mv belt, throw myself on my kuco?. and begin to scrape tho coaling of mingled ?ce and snow from H..s board, was the work ol a moment. \?hcn I lookcil up I was alone beneath tho wintry sky. My wile w/iB trono. I know then wh t 1 had felt from tho first-that it was her shadow I had iolluw ed over that wintry wanto, and rhat on earth she and I would never look upon each oth.r again. Sho kept nor promise as truly as I had broken mine. The gentle spirit had* pursued wc to that deso?ale world hi tho very moment it wa;, liberated Irom its earthly prison. Il was late that night vhcu Hanley and his messmates unod mo lying seamless on thc snow-mound, with lue optm knife beside my stiffening band. They brought me back to life somehow, and by the light of the lanterns they carried, we examined tho board at the head of the mound. Au inscription roughly cut ii on it told us we had fouru-1 the lost crew ( ; tho Ptarmigan. '"Hero lies the body of Morris Haynes, Com? mander ol Ihe Ptarmigan, wh . died in this un? known region January GO, 18.9, aged 35.'' ibo othw mounds also haduoadjoanis hear? ing inscriptions, which we dugout from thc snow on the ioliownie day, and cirofully trans Bcribcd. Alter this we found a cairn contain? ing empty provision tin?, m one of which was a book that had evidently becu used for jour? nal; but rust aud snow had djne their work, and of this journal nothing was decipherable but the natus of tho writer. Morris Haynes. These investigations were not m de by me. The now year found me laid low willi rheumatic fever, and Frank Martyn had to lake bis tura us sick-nurse boide tho snow-oank where I lay. Our piovisions hold cut better than we had expected, thanks to the game our men shot, aud tho patience with which they endur? ed privation. The spriug cutuc, and with it release. Wo contrived to make our way to Baffin's Bay-a con-nmmation I bad scarcely thought possible in my dreary reveries of mid? winter-and a Greenland whaler brought us safely home. I went straight te tho town-houso of my brother-in-law. He was at home, and carno without delny to tuc library, whore I had beau ushered, aud where I sat awaiting bun with a glooaiy faco. Yes, as I oxpeeted; ho waa in mourning; and behind bim cama my sister, with a pul* face, -1iii? wiSlu '?VinY Ott? jy.i?^is"?n?GBf?? rr: ?. "Richard." ho bogan iu a tallering voice. .'Ho.I knows I never thoughtit possiblol could hn ot.i.i ?vise than glad of your coming Lome but-" '?That will do,-' I said; "you need toll me no mor.-. My wii'o is dead." Ile hsut his head solemnly. .'She died on the twenty-lift : ol' Inst Decem? ber, ni tour o'clock in tho afternoon." "Y.UU havo been told, then," cried uiy sister; '.you baw seen some one V "Yes," I answorcd, "1 have scon her !" PCCUUABITI or HASDwamxG.- I' i* a re? markable taft no man can ever get rid oft.ie stylu ot handwriting peculiar to his couutrv. If Lo bo English, lie always writes in EugUsI, style; if Freuen, in French style; ii' Connan, Italian or Spanish, iu the sty.o peculiar lo h;s nailon. 'T a:n acquainted," says a corres? pondent, "with a Fro:.cunan who speaks iCiig lisli hl:o ono ot our own countrymen, and writes it. with ten times ilia correctness ol ninetv-uine in a hundred of us, hut yoi he can? not, tor tho lite OL hun. imitate our modes ol writing. 1 knew a Scotch youth wno was edu? cated entirely iu France, and resided eighteen years io that country, mixing exclusively with French people, but who, a.though ho had a Frouch wrii.iug-iua.-ter, and probably never saw anything bu: French writing tu his life, vet wrote exactly in the English stria; it "waa really national in--.ii.ie.. In Paris all th; writing-masters profess to teach Hie English style of writing; but with all their professions*and all tuck exertions, thoy cm 0'*??r get their pupils lo adopt a y but IKc cramped hand ol the Fr?nela. Some pre? tend to bc able lo t -ll t.ie Rhar.tclcriatics of individuals from their baudwritingS. I know not how tins may be, but certainly thc nation to which au individual belongs eau be instantly determined by Ins handwriting. The differ? ence between thc American or kngiisli and t..e Fronen handwriting is ?m?nense-a schoolboy would distinguish n al a glance. Mix togeiuer a bnndrcd : heel i "f man 'script written by a hundred Frenchmen, and another h.m ired wrtttou by Englishmen or Americans, aud no one could ftil tu distinguish every one ol' them, tho lgh al! should bo writtiiu in tho - ame language, ami with tho sam': pens and paper. The ..?Horeuco between Italian, Spauisli and Uennau baudwri?ng is equally decided, in fact, lhere is about as gieat a (UQereuce in tne handwritings ot diffoicut Haltons as in theil languages. And i: i-> a singular truth that, though a man may shake off national habit.-;, accent, manner of thinking, style of dress though bo may become perfectly identified with another nation, aud spsa:: its lunguage as well, perhaps better than his own-yet never can be succeed in chaogiug iii^ hand? writing to a loreign stria." [Edioes from Ute Club. G BEAT SALB OF KIXEIUL LAM).-.-Thc Knox? ville ( tenn.) Press and Herald is the authority for tho following statement: For some mouths past, as our readers will remember, om- columns Lau; cou!aine I tits ad rortiseutont of Captain M isca MT. Nels ni's val? uable mineral lands in Carter and Johusou Counties f ?r sile. Timi aplani bas pcrsi tcullj refined, all tiio while, to sellauy part of bit lands unless thc purchaser would lake tin whole. As this require l loo large a sum oi money Coi' any uno in this purl, of Hie country, the lands have been some time in tue nv::-..ci Wo are glad to luaru that tho Ci.?iain liosa lougth, thiungb the agency ut his attorney Geueial ltamsay, of Hus city, snect:csdod v. disposing ol his entiru pusse* ii us Lr lhi handsome sum ot't n milli?ms ol diiliars. Wc un dersiaud tho purchaser is a London capitalist or rainer company of capitalists Who may prob ably Booaeuter;into the most extensive miuin; business ever uuiierlakeu i?i Ibis country. -The story of ihe success ol' tho Low Germai uovehat, Frita; Beuter, is as woutbrfnl as an;, thing in the history ot literature. He is uc far from li Ti v years of age. and bad never pu! lishud a book seven years ago. Up to th? time ho bad lived in abject poverty, diving les sons at tue rale of live or ton cs^ls eacb ?tn wandering about the small towns of Mccklci burg and turner ania, ile is no.v one o iii must popular winer.; in Germany, il H iaioi novel, ''Tbs Al ntaguen ont! Ca pule Ul o? Meei leubu.'g." sold on ino day ot i s public, ii? i I thc number of thirteen thous a -i. which equivalent io a sale of s ?ven lime ?thai numb; lu this country. Hi3 stories have been tran lated mtu other languages, and his copyrtgu have made bim a rici mau, so that ho has um himself a kautiful villa near V. ..-mach, in lt view ot Luther's famous Warfb trg. THE COAjciLSSION OF ZILLAH THE WITCH. BI 'ii_E AUTHOR OF "MILDBEP'S WEDDI?Q," &C. I. . - I am a painter's daughter; and although my father WHS of Zurich, I- am, on my mother's side, of English blood. But I have small me? mory of this mother, for she died when I was a child; yet here in my doleful prison her face hath como to mo in a dream often, and I havo seen her smile, and heard wbisp.icd words of comfort whicli I will not set down less they too bo called witchcraft. Sly father loved only hi3 art. If he cared for rae it was bat fitfully, and because my faco | served lum as a model. My hands, too, ho loved to paint, tlioy being wondrous small, and shaped slenderly. My hair also was exceeding beautiiul; it reached nearlv to my feet iu neb waves of brown. I havo heard that maur women alUcted as I niR havo nevertheless this jewel on their hoad-a crown of glorious hair. Yes, I am afflicted m bodv ; I have over been siskly, and my form is Blight and thin,-not straight, sorno say* and my left foot barely touches the crround. Yet my face hath power and beautv, yea, and sweetness too, though I be a witch. And it often son ed my father iu his pictures for many a saint and martyr. I confiesa that ho also made mo sit to him at tunes tor a sibyl, or a sorceress, or a nun con? demned to che for broken vows ; and once I sat fora Saxon queen undergoing tho ordoal ol the red-hot ploughshares, lie changed my hair tbcu to golden ; and on my strange sad face, my dark eyes and ebony brows, he threw tho lieut of the torturing fife. Ab, God, as it will oe to-morrow when I die ! But I daro not think pf thia, for my heart grows cold with fear, roy hands tremble, and ray poor pen drops powerless. These sittings to my father, the painter, wcro very sail to me, for ho nevor spolco. save to bid mo ehaepe ray attitude, or bring upon my face the expression hu desired. I ceulJ do this at trill. I iiad but to tiiiuk of joy or sorrow, of hate or love, and swift upon my lace there flashed the semblance of these passions. As I sat silent, having neither book nor work, I used to dream. I dreamed ot tho banished queens, tho martyrs, aud the lonely saints in doserts, whom my lather loved to paint. Of? ten it was at, his command I dreamed thus. "Ziliah," ho would say, 'T paint a queen falsely accused, brought before a ?raping mul? titude to dio. Think, child, of her agony, ber indignation at man's injastico, and her piteous prayers to (J od." Then as Uc spoke tho queen's soul came into my soul, and all hor anguish rushed upon tue; her mingled shame and courage, her faith ana lear, thc hope ol her spirit, aud the shrinking of her flesh. And on my face there flushed and paled and quivered these terrera, and my rather's pencilseized and lixod thom on the canvas. Ah! for his art's sake ho should not luve lost his child. for tho visions which ho bade ar.se would not ccatio when he flung dowu thc pencil. No ; they grew on rae ; and upou my lace-forced so oit to expressions boyend my youth, and alien to the times-there grew a something unnatural and weird; so at uight, when I looked noon myself ia my mirror, I felt atr.ud, aud I covered my wild eyes with my bunda. There waa a maiden Jived near us, whose su? ple form is to he seen in m tay a picture of my fat lier's, j'iiueJ to my sad face. Sha was uoblo by birth; but her father, au English exile driven from his own land by wara and treason, died at Zut icu so poor, that acaree was there mouey found to cunt a mass Jor bim at his burial. Vet his child was gently nurtured, ?ind lacked nothiug cf Ihia world* joys; lor a rich goldsmith and bia wife, having no children, took her, and loved her aa their own. *ho iras uo frieud of mine; but her lover was my father's pupil, and so she was glad to como to his studio, wi ere sha could babble lovo talk as ho woikcd. rjhe was not beauti? ful; her eyes were a cold blue, and though her skin was mir, there was no light upon her face. And she loved all the baubles of this world more than any foolish woman whose poer, small, weak heart it hath been my fate to read. She did not love mc-but "that mm* wa$Ttr??i^&?l?ija 8f mor"' - Jealous! and Ambrose scarco ever spoke to mo. That was her lover's name; hers was Beatrice Darner. 1 did nut, know her till Am? brose brought her to otu1 house; him I had known all my life long, for his father and mine were cousins and bro.her painters. Ah, leonid uot help my love! It came to nie when I waa a child, and as a woman I could not fling iL -iway. As well try to pluck the life from my venia as tear out of my heart tliia woful love. Ile did not heed it; no thought of my pain wver rufilod Ins careless nature: IJea trtce had ail his thought", all his love. .Scarce? ly did his glance over fall on me, unless I sat mat day, aad then it rested ou my pallid face aa it might ou a face of blouo. ?No maideu in Zurich was so solitary cs I. Boing sickly and silent, I could not make li lends, a ud I felt 1 must not dare.to ask for sym? pathy. lil feared myself at times, and paled at sight of my own faje, what would tl io -io happier damaeU Bay if 1 confessed to thom my wild visions? These grow upou mo with moro in? tensity oslbecamo older, and oft at night I heard voices, binding mc arise and escape to tho wilderness, or lo the heights of lonely mountains. They tell me now these were thu voices of demous commanding me to join the witches' Sabbath, and ray judges say that doubtless I arose and neut. Witunsses al>o have sworn they saw mo ni Strange shapes Hoeing through woods and marshes at night. Alas! I know not if this he true. If so, the power hath loft me now Shat up in this dole? ful prison, no spell comes to my memory winch ?hail cha:.go mo lo bird or hure, or wobr-wolf, and so help mu to escape theta got and thc flames. Woll, perchance it is beat to die and bo for? given. Bil ncr would I choose death than a return t > soruury. Ah, mc ! I did not wish to b:- ,i witch, t'ho sin grow upon mo as a fever in Hie blood grows, till ihc weird pawer within m j ?vas stronger th in L Yet if 1 could inter pr il dreams, and read thoughts, and see as in a vision tho faces of thc absent, 1 wish not i tun il tva i wicked; and I swen- I borenore iiiumbraiic.i u* ah me evil (biogs witnessed I attains' mc. If in the night I arose, ?md lied .?way us a bird or a deer, Ikuew it not; though I. will not deny that oll-timos in the mornings, I have found my pillow wet with tears, and my head heavy, aud my Jimba aching, as I have hoard happier maidens say theirs did after itiiic i dancing. Well, those oe honorable men who have tried mc, so I will not gainsay them. IL may bo that lunch Morrow, ?iud the torture, and Hie dungeon have taken away ray memory; so no shadow, of my wanderings in'utiholy ahupes, rests upon my brain. ii >.o happened ibat as my father painted thc Saxon que n Ambrose stoosl and looked on. Sow Boat) ice hud sat for the figure, me round? ed arms, the swelling neck; bot miue vraa the wu .il face that gazed i pwsrd in prayer. '"Your queeu'a form is beautiful," said Am? brose, "but 1 ??ko t:oL brr faco.'' I spoke no:, ibouttha siur|) pang ran through nie at hi* crud words, r.-:d clasping my Jituds I cast then upwards wildly, forgetting who was by. "Thcro is Ike look 1 needed,-' cried my father m anger; "whv not have uonc that yesterday, girl?" Then they disputed on thc queen's face, till ray father threw down his pencil, and bade Am brose limbla it himsalf. "Bight willingly," he answered. "To my uiiti? the faca should show the shrinking ot ihc Hob, thc fear of the woman, not the faith o.' Ibo soul." 'Thou your queen will barn io death," said my faiher, "andmino through Leith would es? cape." "If she had faith like Samson, the red-Ltol iron would search, and pam would pierce through tho mask ol courage oti tho face.' said Ambrose, taking u;> tue brush. "Now Zdlab, t.iiuk thyself a witch, and yonder pitt o/ wood i hon s?uot in thc painting ia to bun lime. Fancv thou foulest tho fire touch th< teuder s?lu ?f thy foot, men shrink back upoi Hiv chair and shriek. Well done, girl; nov '..?'tl 1 paint ;ho queen's first btep upon tb. glowing ir. a bravely." ,So 1 sa; ?til that day to Ambrose, and as hi bard unluviug eyes looked into ray lace, 1 Iel about my heart a tcrturo like tho fiery ordos ol* thc iptceti. II. 1 speak of this picture bseiuse it wrong h out my fate. Being finished, many came t ace it, and my father, a curious man, within to know what the people said, put up a curta', by thc painting, and placed me bohind it i ambush. Uti tiiu second day of thc show, when I, b ia.; weary, half slept with my hoad upon n bauds, tho sound of a voico roused mc. brin? ing me to my feet aa tho cry of fire mig my blood chilled at that voice, and then ed through my frame a thousand wa; wbispenng of aon-oir and death. ?, if I had but listened if I had but 1 thia cry of my good angel ! Looking I thc curtain, myself unseen, I beheld a some forty year?, of a gravo and ateadfa and noblo presence, yet slightly stoopis dxessod soberly Hiongh richly. "Tho queon is snrelv a living wornt said. "Who is the maiden ?" "Thc queen wears the face of tho pa daughter, my lord," answered the lad him. 'Tt is a strange face," mused the nobla you ow the Judy ?" "Faith, my lord," sho answered haui "mv knowledgo lies not among pa inti I such-hki. but I have heard Beatrico 1 say sho is somewhat of a witch, aud i ' and sileat as a ? ottered nun." "Darner 1" re .e ....a ibo noble; "is she i rich ?" "Yes; but her father was a noble, i from England." Tho km?ht mused a moment, then sate" "And wlut doth this demoiselle sav t painter's daughter?" "0, tho maddest things 1 How she fi tunes into a trance, or sleep; aud iu this she can reveal secrets, interpret dreams, foretell the future. But, trulv it is some dangerous to speak ol her art. Such pc can only como ol sorcery." " Th ero are more powers than we w< lady,' returned tho knight; "tho wor young yet. This girl is wondrous beau ooth m lace and form." "0, the Saxon queen hath Beatrice Dal shape, my lord. Zillah hath but ber face form is thin andsomowhat crooked, ?ut th mir you of tho picture ?" "The quceu shrinks too fearfully fron ordeal, lady, Being innocent, and lull of 1 she will tread tho ploughshares unscathed her lace should bo brave and calm, not ful." ' "Ab, as bor father painted it at first, methinks tho horror and fear ot pain depi iii tho queon is more natural," said thc lat "Nnt to that laco," returned tuo km "Ihe young painter understands not tho man bc has painted." "Well, I, aa a woman, say I should fear ribly tho rjd-kat iron; and'l thmk tho que face would have looked aa tho young Amu hath Jimacd it." "Madam, had you been the queen it wi have ?ookod so, ' said tho knight. Then they moved away; audi hoard the tie of thc lady's rich robe, and the stately t ot the noble, as they passed through o?r | doorway. "So I om croaked anda witch,"I said to self bitterly. "What have I dono to lieut Duiner that she should take away my g ?amo V" And for tho first time I ovd'wisbod her, longed in my heart that I wore indeed a Wi "Zillah!" "cried tho voice of Ambrose. Stu ed 1 looked up, and saw kita at the curt holdiug it aside as he stood. Ho was pale, : though bc smiled his lip hcrablod. "1 am sorry thou hast hoard this," he s; "Thou art not so crooked, Zillah, as lady's speech, lt was empty babble, ch naught else." "I can ace in tho mirror what I am," I Bworcd calmly. ' But tell me, Ambrose, c sce.n to thee a witch ?" "Tush!" ho answered; "I wonder Beta h uttered such cruol giddy wcrds." And for tho first timo ainco 1 had grow woman, he fixed his eyes on mo without t stony luck in them that chilled mc. "Poor cadd !" he aaid softly ; " no, thou DO witch, Zillah ; I swear it." Thoa be let tho curtain drop ; and wit burning glow upon my cheek 1 rose, aud m iag it gently- I watched hun as he went an " No, not a witch ; and yet if, by so witchcraft, I could only make "bim lovo'mo ! And sitihig down again, 1 pondered in loneliness on unlawful things-on spells ; sorcery, aud that weirdness inmybleodt made me differ from other maidens. in. The next day my lather shut his stn against all comers. -7-*-Shs uaint m??'wim nol<WL 1 , ' "J ""? ?* JLufcim. .M?441 RHU MMl vjufi,tl itv Would have it shown." Then I hoard this was the noblo whoso vo had star: led mo ; and ho had made my fatl great oilers to come to Englaud, and paint I ceilings or a statoly castle which he had nei built. "Thou wilt not go te Fugland, father ? cried. "Why not?" ho auswerod angrily. "It i rich country, aud -.his couut pays hkeaprin Seo what ho lath given mo for tniy Sax qtiaen." He showed mo a great purse of gold; bul turned my eyes from it, shuddering. A vo in my heart told me thia was the prie e of i blood, and I loathed the sight of its glitter. "Whore shall I live io thy absence, father I said, timidly, hoping the hand of fato woi 9 pare me. "Thou goost with me, Zillah," ho answer? "Thia English noble saith thero is room, a to sparc, iu his goodly cist le OH the Avon.'' I knew it before he" spoke; yet now I gr faint, aud a shadow like the shadow of dca fell upon mc. "Let mo stay in Zurich, father," I eric "Let me ?tay iu Zurich and liva." "Lite and health are as tound and safa England as elsewhere, gentle damsel," said voice. And turniug, I ?saw thc Fsihsli noble stan ing courteously in our doorway. Ho was Ul! stature and fair pale face, his node bu aud hooked, his beard black, hut his eyes hg hazel. [ thought him evil-looking, yot ti world called him handsome; so let it etai that ho was handsome, and-and noble, sin all say so. "Lite is not safe tlicro fer me, my lord," said to bim in my mother's tongue; "for 1 ha sosn in a vision a man hao thee tempting u into sorceries and death." His light eyes sparkled at this, and bondir his lace near to minc, he answered ia se lonr-s : "..So tho good painter sudorstands not F glish? That is well. Zillah, I came bithi only to seek thee. On thy mother's side v arc akin." "i am onlr a poor painter's daughter," said, shrinking from his outstretched hand. "Ther.i is witch's blood in theo, Zillah, ai; blond ii stronger than water, even if it bebo water,"ho answered; "and through that blot I claim theo. Thy mother's mother was n gisuddame's sister. Thou must come to Eu; land, girl; there is no escapo l'or theo. Mei me at sumset on the bridge, aud I will tell thc more." .i kea he talked to my father of our journe; and, scarcely glancing again at mc, ho d muted I wsuld not go to the bridge, I said; but : the sun went ?OWH, I felt upon my heart, as were, cords of lire, and these drew mo fort I and set mo in that man's presence. Ho toe we by thc baud, aud lcd mo to a little knoll r I bc luke, where pinetrees grow. Here we sa aud he discoursed long ou sera se thing!?; e tho power to be gamed by tasting and waicl ing, ou spells, on the secrets biddon in f earth nucl air, ou the enchantments to I wrought by ?ho eye and tbs hand and t! waving arms, and on thai my.-.tic urea in ti vo'.cw aud thu presence of a kingly mau wine make othei men's souls obedient to Ins. Nover bad lips spoken to me as this man '.?'?s; and as I listened to words that secme tue interpretation of my own secret thought: I trembled. '.?aareelv have I courage to muse ? n the.; unlawful things, ' I said; "aud you, my lon are btavc enougb to speak them, i "Not to thc world, Zillah,"-aud he smile . mournfully-"but only to time. Buch though run in the blood of some, and I have luid tut ; wu are akiu." i Thou ho took from his neck a chain of go!< ' and hannis',' to it was a picture in enamel Oi lady. At first I thought, 1 looked upon mir ' own face; then I saw s -e ?oro a dress of a i aueieuL fashion, and a crown of pearls waa c i hor bead. i "By this I recognized thee, Zillah, when i looked upon the Saxon queeu," ho said. "Th 9 i3 thy ancestress, whwse blood rans in tl: veins "and mine. Sho was deemed a sore eros s arni berug tried-her judges Ignorauos ar t Fear-she perished at tuc st?ke. All her ku il aud kin forsook h?r littlechild, who, wande iug in penury and want, came at lait to bo sor-vatii to a Flemish merchant, then tk t lather's wife. Hearing all thia from ir o mother when a b y, I said it was base to to g sake the child, and when I was a man I won n Hud her. Thus, Zillah, I have sought tl a mother manv years, and I have lound thee. '.Not for kindness do you claim kin wii c- me." I answered. "Leave me in peace. iy "If I hopo to find in thoo ibu gifts tl j- granddame had, what then ?'' lie asked. "TJ happy in love, and despised, what peace is thero for theo at Zurhh ?" I grew white to tho lips as ho spoke. "Do not tempt me," I said with tears. Eut as 1 spoke the sound of music came wafted to us by tho breeze, and I saw Anibroso and Beatrica seated ia a little boat, floating down the lake. Ho toyed with h>r long hair, and she loaned upon him as he sat ; and ever and anon he toucued thc flute ho held, piping forth sweet slow music, with rippling laughter and gentle kisses for his interlude. Ibid behind the trees; but her laughing faco and his glowing lips passed so close, that ray eyes looked into theirs, and saw tho love in them, and my heart grew bitter as gall. Then my kinsman least forward, and whisp? ered in my ear : "Zillah," I, and ( only, can give theo tho secret desire of thine heart. I promise theo rhat yonder careless woman ahab never be tho wifo of Arnbroso, and Iiis love shall return to thee, only consent to come into England and be my witch." And in an evil moment I consantod hastily. And the knight, stooping, took my haud and kissed it. "I will never leavo thee or forsake thee. Zil? lah," he said iu his rich mournful voice; "and I will crown thee with wealth and honor." "What are these to me," I answered, "when there is no ono in the W'de world who loves mo ?" "Power is love," returnod the knight. "We will gam power, and tho world will como to our feet." I did not hcod him. I was thinking of Beatrico's careless grace; I wa* thinking of the passionate heart of Ambrose given to her -the heart that might be mine. "0, sir knight, lot not thy promise fail me," I said wistfully. "It saall not fail, Zillah." And drawing me towart'j him, ho pressod his lips upon my brow. rv. Ambrose bid mo farewell sadly. "Thine is tho face I have known and loved tho longest, Zillah," he said. "I shall mi3s thoo sorely when thou art gone." "What! with Beatrice Damer as a consola? tion?" i asked bitterly. "Perhaps sue will be a poor comforter," ho answered, aud ho turned away with a weary look. And so we parted; I wiih a wild hope in my heart, aud he with a fear in his. It was a weary journey by sea and land be? fore wc ree, bed ibo castle of my kinsman. But I epoak not of tins, nor of tho stately riches of his house; I speak oalv of a secret chainbor in tho oastern tower, wherein wero crucibles, and censors, aud slrang : fires, and thinea which I dare not toli of. Hero too wero couches of Persian silk and embroidered hang? ings, and carpets of tapestried work, so soft that a footfall wa1? never heard. Thero was no window, but a costly lamp, ever alight, hung from tho coiling, a id sweet perfumes filled the air always. lu this pirco did mv evil kinsman practice bu enchantments; and though in all these I was bia aid and holper, I speak truth when I say I know naught of them. Por when I enter? ed the secret chamber at dead of night, my acusos sank into a deep sleep, .. nd 1 remem? bered noL what I uttered or wnat I saw. The baron had sai? courteously to my father: "Paint as leisuroly as it liketh thoo, and ait at thiuo own table; but as for thy daughter, her modier was of my blood, and I shall treat her aa a kiuswoman." "?ly wife could not bo of your kin, my hird; sho wa-3 but a servant," returned my father, and his faco paled s rangcly. "I care not what abo was," answered thc haren. "Say no more." So be told his household I was a kinswoman, and he gave me jewels and silks, and all things befitting a lady; but I felt these were givon mo for my witcueraft, and I had my bitter? ness in my heart. So by day I was the lady Zillah, honored as aa innocent maiden; but at night I k ?ow I was a witch. In tho blessed sunlight, when frsed from that strange sleep, I used no witcheries. Only, knowing I had the power, I havo some? timos charmed away the pains of the sick, not thinking I dui an ovil. | _ "nat through me, ana in a year lie was a baited cari; Then I spoke to him of his premise, and asked' to go back to mr own land. "The painter Auibrosa shall como to Eng? land,'' he answered. "I have kept my word with thee.'The kine, at my request, has grant? ed to Beatrice Darner her fatucr's lauds, and he has givou to mo the wardship of her and them; and sho shall uot marry the painter." T was amazed at this nowa and sorrowful, fearing Ambrosa would be grieved. "Have pationco, Zillah," said my kinsman. "I have told thee thou ahalt havo tho desire of thine heart." Se I waited in gloomy patience. And soon after this thc earl went up to court, returning utter a while with a groat retinue of lords and ladies, and amoug tho3e his young son, a wau, Bickly hoy, with a gotitlo beauty on his lace. Jiava I said my kinsman was a widower? "It would not sutt thee, Zillah, to minglo with this gay company," ho said, "so keep thy chamber till they be gono." Thus I found myself a prisoner; yet whon the Fay company went out with hawk and hound, stole down into thc garden and walked alone, or I crept on through tho troes to tho huts of the poor, and hoaled them of their sickness with herbs and spells; and I saug ditties to them, or told them wild stories that arew upon my brain through loneliness. These were my oaiy companions; for my father painted every day; ceiling and hall, chapel and wall, ho be covered with the work of his pencil; and I was ever alone, leehng tho whispers of the household creeping about mo evilly. Une day in the dre?ry pleaaaunco I sat in a little bower where roses lay dying, and snug to myself. Hawk and hound had departed, and ? thought all th* nobie company waa away with them, so I stng from my heart a wild ?wisa lav, with echoes in tho mus.e coming dowu from the mountains and dying softly on the iouely lakes. Sadiy, sweetly tho old Swiss words and wild music dropped from mv lipa, bringing rushing memories and fist-falling tears; and, choked by these, I stopped singing. .Ail. do not slop, sweet lady !" said a bo> ish voice; and straightway there stepped trom tho laurels a pale child clad in velvet. Guessing h m to be thc vomit Conut I rose and salute him. "Arc you. a prisonor, lady ?" said tho boy. have watched you these many days {rom my' window, Walking in tue pleasa?nce like a cap? tivo, but I never see your face at our botrd; aud though I boar your voice sometimoa sing? ing, I hear it oftener weeping." Sow I foared lo tull him I was a distant kins? woman, so I said humbly, "Sir, I rm from Zu? rich; I am thc daughter of the painter hero. If I am sad it ks with pining for iry own laud. Memories of Hie mountains and lakes come to my eyes in tears." "Poor lady !" said thc ehilJ, puttinghis hand on mine; "your voice ia like my mother's. WUl you sing to me again ?" I saug to him sonly, while tho boy gazed into -'? my face with luge, eager eyes, too earnost.teo sorrowful for childhood. "You wi!! come again?" ho cried, ciuging to my hand as I roso to leave him. But I avoid? ed the ploasuanco lor many days, t'il the child, being bent ou Hoeing wy faco, found out my chamber, aud came aud"sat at tho door pa? tiently till tito yearning of my heart moral mo to speak to him. let fearing soirow wooli be? fall Lira for his love for me, I strove often to malte my sptiueh rou? ? lo him; but hs heeded it not. "I will wait, Zillah, till thine anger fcc gone,'" he would say in a low sweet voice. Then opening my door with a soft hand I saw him sitting patiently ou t!io rushey his sweet senile face and largo bright oyes turji d towards me lovingly. Ah me! could I help it if my'.rm slolo around him, and our two sad faces touch td each other wiih a gontlo kiss,or sometimes ming ed tears? _ Was it witchcraft that my hean yearned over him like a mother, and my but.d stroked his golden hair caressingly,and my tars lutgcd lor his pretty talk, and my lips tell upon his palo ca eeks with such kisses as Lia mother had given him ? ??o, there was no sorcery in thia. ^~ ami no sorcery iu tho dear love which thc peor f wan child paid mo back from ibo treasures of hia gentle heart. . 1 1 was glad when thc gay company al! depart? ed, bnt, to iay sorrow, the earl stayed, and he sought mo as or old to work s iel s fori im. M Grown weary and sics of heat:. ? said I would 1 not, unless be redeemed his word and brought V. Ambrose to me. ' "Foolish maiden, hast thou not yet i'jrgot ten the vain painter ?"' he said laughing. But that night, iu ibo secret chamber, bc spoke more kindly. "Zillah, by thy"aid I have discovered great things," he said, "so I will no; refuse thy rc- ^ (Continued en Second Page.) ^ 4