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By ALAN MuTR. Author of "Vanity Hardware, ? "Golden Girls," Etc BOOK OXE. LADY BEAUTY S MOTHER. CHAPTER I. DARKNESS IN BEAUTY'S ABSENCE. For the room had grown darker to a cer tainty. No doubt glass and silver shono as clearly as before, the damask was as white, the bloom of the flowers as rich, and the min gled lights?sunlight straight from off the green lawn outside, and lamplight just com ing into radiance on the dinner table?had not lost b. i htness by one ray. And yet the room was . .-ken Everybody felt that I 6poke It al-.'Ud, and we all looked round the table and the walls, and confessed that the room was several shades darker. "It always is darker," whispered an old gentleman at my side, "when Lady Beauty leaves the room?always!" There wer? six other men at the table; but as wo spoke two of these fell into discussion upon the old. themo of Tory and Whig. Two more?parsons?struck off into some conver sation about "high" and -"low." How the third pair employed themselves I forget, but they did not join our conversation. Plainly the elderly gentleman and myself were to start a dialogue of our own; and as plainly we should neither be interrupted nor over beard. I did not know my companion's name; but his fine figure and bis cheerful face had already made me feel an interest in him, and I resolved to keep up the talk which he had bo pleasantly begun. "Who may Lady Beauty be?" I asked. ttYou are a stranger here," replied the old man, with a smilo which pleased me more than ever. I confessed it "Or you would know who Lady Beauty ia Her praiso ia on everybody's hps." "But," I said, "generally I pay every lady In a room the tribute of at least one look; and?and?I did not notice a young woman here this evening." "I said nothing about a young woman," my friend continued, with a vivacity which gleamed in las eyes and carved scores of hu morous little wrinkles round the corners of his mouth. "Lady Beaut}* is not young?by the almanac, that is." "Then who can she bo?" I reflected "Not surely that spare aggressive-looking woman that sat between you and mo and talked of female suffrage and the higher education of woman?" My old friend laughed with great relish. "That is her eldest sister." "Well, surely not that tall, artificial-look ing old maid?is she an old maid, by the way??who had such a fine outline and such a suspicious bloom upon her cheeks?" "No, not her; that is the second sister," the old gentleman answered, with another laugh. "A widow, loo, my young friend" "I have it!" cried I, slapping the table a lit tle ia my excitement, so that the Whig and Tory glanced up, but seeing it was notning, resumed their argument "It was that lady in black, with the silver hair, neither stout nor slim, who spoke so clear and low, and seemed to keep everybody in good humor dbout her. Pit}-1 sat so far away! I was envying the peoplo near her all dinner time. Am I righti'' "You arc," ho answered. "That was Lady Beauty; and when sho left the table she did take some light away with her. You thought you were making a gallant sort of joko ap plied to the sex generally; but you spoke more troth than you fancied. Tho room was darker when she left Darker to me it al ways is," and my old friend breathed a sigh, which interested me more than ever. "I did not know it was she who carried the light away," I said "I had scarcely noticed her." "There Is her praise," tho old gentleman answered, warmly. "She does not force her self upon you.- And I dare say many days you don't look at the sun; but when sunset comes you miss him none the less." By such pleasant, paths we entered into a conversation. My friend told me many things about "Lady Beauty," to' which I listened with an attention which pleased him greatly; so much that, when we were about to leave the table, he took mo gently by the sleeve, and said that, if I had nothing better to do that night, and liked a chat and a cigar, and would accept a seat in his car riage, he would tell me all the story of Lady Beauty. I was too much interested in him self and his narrative to say no; and the 6tory, *o commenced, and continued on several subsequent evenings, I have hero re corded without any attempt at art, just in the simple way I heard it I offer it here for the acceptance, amusement and instruction of that portion of creation who, ns they are tho fountain of life and its best prize, may, by the use of the gifts God has so choicely bestowed up*n them, be not alone the orna ment, but the joy of the men they love. In which high nrt I respectfully ask them to learn a lesson from "Lady Beauty." CHAPTER II. "MRS. BARBARA TEMPLE?THE MISSES TEM PLE." Something like forty years ngo there fell vacant at tho ot'ier end of this town a largo house with a specious and splendid garden. Its original proprietor had lived in it for sixty years, and being a niau of great wealth and fine taste he had transformed what was once a comfortable family residence into a mansion, filled with all luxuries, and surrounded with green houses, hot houses, vineries, stables, coach bouses and all the other appurtenances of a grand Louse. Ilo died, and his hundreds of thousands ran off in a golden river of good luck to a nephew in the north of England, who had his own estate. Immediately the question was askuc in our little provincial set: "Who will take the Beeches?" for by that simple name tho mansion was known. Every body was afraid of the Beeches; afraid of its gilded rooms, its noble balls, its green houses, hot house;;, vineries, stabius and coach bouses aforesaid; afraid of its splendid traditions, gone, we felt, never to return; afraid of com parison with the former owner?a |xx>r sickly shadow in later days, but even then such a lord at the head of his table, such a judge of wines, so plentiful with his choice vintages, too; sue;; nn expert in gardeners and eooks, as our town of Kcttlewell never saw before, and was never likely to see again. So the great bouse j-t<..'?.l vui-uut month after month, and year after year, haunted by no ghosts ex cept memories of magnificence, which <1M in deed seem to g'idi through the vast dump rooms, down the wide stairs, or through the noble gardens, now returning to wilderness season bv season. Ev< rybody was afraid of the Beeches. We all said, "The Beit-hos will never let again." Let it diil, however. There came a littIn lady otv day. rreet. commanding in h"r manner and rich In her attire. She asked to see the bouse. She went from room to room, ? and marked with approving eye how glorious was the place; and sharply she inquired or the agent if there was .n.y reason why the house had not let, except tue alleged one of its extraordinary grrnleur. He assured h?;r that there was none. At this she broke into a little laugh, which meant, "Kcttlewcll peo ple must be fools." "What rooms for dancing!" she ejaculated. "What .staircases, up and down!" And then she set her own dapper figure in one of the glasses of the console tables, and murmured, "Admirable, ad mirable taste!" "I shall t?ke this house," she said aloud, as she set her foot on the threshold. And as she -n^nt from room to room she kept repeating, "I shall take this house." "Bedroom," "dressing room," "morn big room," library," "boudoir," "servants' hall." With such words of assignment ou her hps she went about, and the wholo mansion was allotted to separate uses when she had completed her inspecting tour. She caino back into the empty dining room, and the young man who, full of awe, had followed her round the house, heard her say to herself, "0, what a room for a dance!" Then he, going out on some errand, and suddenly returning, saw the little dfune step down the empty floor j in some formal dance, most mystic in his eyes. ! and bowing with aristocratic grace to some j invisiblo partner. The young man recalled I his own hops at the citizens' ball, and won dered what this grave measure could be. But the little lady pulled up all of a sudden, with a whistle of hor silks, and repeated for tho fiftieth time, "I shall take this house." "Mrs. Barbara Temple," was her reply I when tho agent asked her name. She do- j livered it with decided emphasis, as if tho syllables might be pondered; and forthwith ?he gave orders for many things to be done to ; the houso and grounds, saying that she would come in next month. You may be sure we j were all alivo with curiosity to know every thing about Mrs. Barbara Templo. Sho \ turned out to be a widow?a ?widow for tho BOOOnd time, wo heard?and with three j daughters. She had first married an old man of vast wealth, who died when she was two Mid-twenty, leaving hor with no children and j a great fortune settled on her. Next, to avenge herself for the privations oi her first j marriage, she allied herself to a young ensign of twenty-five, haudsome and penmless. With him she lived happily for seven years, j during which time she gave birth to three ', daughters. Then the young officer died; and I so, having got a fortune by the first busband and a family by the second, Mi-s. Barbara ! Temple was now making ready to lead the remainder of her life according to her own heart The family came into residence on the last Friday in April, 1S58. Nothing was seen of them, you may guess, on Saturday, and everybody was on tiptoe expectation for their entry into the parish church on Sunday morning. Thither they came, regularly enough, like good worshipers, having, by tho way, spoiled tho worship of everybody be side. First comes my little dame, natty and brisk, and with something in her movements | that almost made you fancy she must be a | puppet animated by enchantment. Sillo, j feathers of tho rarest sort, a fan?tho weather being hot?and her frame braced up into | such erectness, that each of her inches was j worth two; so Mrs. Barbara Temple walked I into church. There was spirit in tho eyo | which went round the building, not with un- j pleasing boldness, but with most unmistaka- I ble courage. There was a vigor in her step which told of a good constitution, and she held her fan in a way that signified temper. Indeed, when the pow-opencr blundci-ed over the latch of the door, and kept h'-r waiting in the aisle, she dealt one glance at the woman ?one only?but what a rebuke was in it! At sight of the dash, old Sparkins. the doctor, who bad been watching the new-comer i rather obtrusively, was struck with fear fViat j he might catch the next; anil ho dropped into ?his prayer book liko a bird shot in mid air, j trying to look as if he had ifeen nothing since service began. Threo daughters camo behind The first Impression they gavo us was of a profusion of rich dress, chosen and worn with tasto which was simply faultless. The next im pression was of tallness of figure, the more conspicuous for the tiny damo who led tho way. The third impression was of beauty, set out in style and fashion such as our littlo town could not rival; and we did not think ourselves provincial in any but the geograph ical sense. After this, we had time to judge and praise the beauties girl by girl. Girl the first, walked with a mincing step, and a toss of her hi?ad which, though strictly within tlie limits of good breeding, was noticeable and significant. Clever she looked, too, and her eyes were clear gray, eyes that could search you?and did search you?read ing your face with great rapidity and appre hension. She was the most striking figure of the three, being very tall, and with splendid shoulders. Hor face, it is true, would not bear much looking into; and had you taken it feature by feature, as tho children were taught to break tho fagot in the fable, you might have proved it a jxx>r face enough. But taken in its wholeness, and set upon that superb bust, it was a faco which I should not have recommended a young fellow to gaze at too long unless he meant matrimony. And then her dress?her dress! O, never tell mo that a woman cannot double?treble?her looks if she has money in her pocket and tasto in her eye! But the next was prettier; indeed, pretty was not the word appropriate to a woman who was unquestionably handsome,who knew | her beauty and was proud of it. The second j Miss Temple hail a nose of most exquisite shape, large melting eyes of gray, ready to turn blue, and she hail a lovely mouth, per- | haps with a little too much of the chisel about I it, too finely finished, wanting in expression, and with a slight hint of disdain carved on its j fine corners. Beauty, professed beauty, con- ! fessed beauty, and clad to disti nction: so she ' glided into her pew, and we had time to con- I sider girl the third. Girl the third! Shall I ever forget her face, j then in the first sweet flush of youth! Shall I , ever forget lite light that shone in those deep ; serious eyes!?the thousand possibilities of tender or delicate expression that seemed to hover around that mouth, ready to alight and unfold themselves whenever summoned! 1 had been thinking a thousand frivolous and I misplaced thoughts, but something in this face restored me by the most de lightful of recalls to the mood of a worshiper. Never, never, outside heaven, shall I see such a fuee a^ain. It. was like the dream of a painter, and he a painter whose fancy had drunk of some celestial sin am of feeling and idea, until iie had cutight on his canvas a fuee which had ill it nil that could I bo heavenly in a thing of earth, and all that, could be earthly ill a thing of heaven. Laugh not at me, neither call me irreverent, if I say that one could have fancied bei'some painted .Madonna descending from the walls of n church, taking human form, and wear ing modern vesture. On this girl vesture gave you UO hint of fashion: her counte nance cLbciX'dlizeil her attire, s,i thai si).' might have been wearing an angel's floating drapery instead of the ia.^t Paris fashion. But- ! sir you mh? ?: r.utl N not every rare emotion bound to hide ir>. If, le.st, being seen, it should be ridiculed for eccentricity* Tho...> eyes could shine with earthly or heavenly love. In each ease jt would be love deep, pure, intense, with not a thought of evil ou it j white and living page. That| mouth could kiss a-- daughter, or mistress, or mother, and which kiss would be sweetest i who could foretell from one who seemed tit tQ j I perform every womanly duty in the most I womanly way? In her look there was some I thing neither of age nor youth, but of what I should try to describe as fullness: the me 1 ritUan of the nature when tho early and the , later sentiments meet, in equal strength, tho i simplicity of youth, the gravencss of serious j life. She was fair, and her hair light brown; ; and I saw a trace of a little foot as she turned i Into her pew. But when sho knelt and cov j ered her face, I did the same quite uncon sciously. It seemed right after the vision of her. CHAPTER in. THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY. . i That week everybody called upon the Tem ples. The universal impression was favor able, and we all rejoiced over so vivacious an addition to oar society, and already the ques tion was flying from lip to lip among tho ladies: "Whom will the Misses Temple ; marry?" That on tho grounds of social posi ? tion and education the new comers would ! stand high amongst us was not doubted for a : moment, while their easy fortune was pro : claimed by their dress, tho furniture of their house and their manner of life generally. Each successive visitor had something now to telL One remarked bow finely tho furniture and ornaments were fancied. Another marked tho glories of tho harp and the piano. "The pictures are lovely," said a third; "not a poor one on the walls!" And carpets, and oil cloths and the coloring of tho walls came in for commendation in duo course. All of us were delighted with the lively conversation of the girls, and we marveled unanimously at Mrs. Temple's wide knowledge of the world and the briskness with which sho uttered it Ner was one of these praises undeserved. The drawing room of the Temples was a charm ing contrast to most of thoeo around. Ease, cultivation, liveliness, whatever is choic-st in social intercourse, seemed to pervade the very air and you felt as you ontcred the room that you had passed into a region where refine ment reigned supreme. The Temples were, somehow, above us all. Wo felt it, and with increasing diffidence, as we realised our in feriority, was tho question asked, "Whom will the Misses Temple marry f" MRS. BARBARA TEMPLE. But old Sparking, who was our shrewdest head by a long way, hearing this question asked at Miss Whiffln's house one afternoon, remarked, with a comical face to fix our at tention, that we had not disposed of tho mother j-et. Surprising that so natural a thought had not suggested itself before! Mrs. Temple, as we understood, had l>een married very early, and our most competent female critics declared that sho could not be more than forty-five, or, rather, I should say, they put it that she could not be leas. We had Doveral widows and spinsters qf ripe years, and thoso agreed that forty-five was still a marrying age; indeed, some of the ladies de clared that it was the best time of all? an opinion in which Sparking con curred with much vehemence i?jitl solem nity, only the old fellow was caught winking slyly at a confidential friend immediately after, which aroused some sus picion. That Mrs. Barbara Temple might be married before any of her daughters, that she was yet an attractive and marrying woman, we all admitted. There was that in her manner with men which told that sho had not yet abandoned either the hope or the methods of conquest; and it was plain to us all that less likely women are married every day of tho year. Besides, tho fortune was hers?absolutely?as we had discovered on undoubted testimony; and since the fortune could not be less than three thousand a year, we began to see that for tho present it was Mrs. Temple, not her daughters, who was likely to be tho prizo in our next matrimonial race. So, having settled this hi our minds wo proceeded liko rational beings to choose a husband for the animated widow; and with scarcely a dissentient opinion, we came to the conclusion that our rector, the Rov. An thony Brent, would Imj tho happy man. Wo were not altogether wrong in this conjecture, as my story shall disclose. But Mr. Brent does not emerge on our historic page at present Let me tell you here that, in the course of a long lifo, I have never met a woman who could match Mrs. Barbara Temple. Cleverer women, handsomer women, wittier women I have met in scores; but the secret of Mrs. Barbara Temple was her utter and hearty love of this present world. Of this present world she was, I believe, tho sincerest and most unquestioning worshiper that ever lived. She put no strain upon herself to become what she was; she quenched no aspiration and re pressed no misgiving. World!iness woo the simple honest expression of her natural dis position and her judgment on affairs. Never religious devotee was so completely inclosed in a creed as she. For, indeed, it was a creed, and a life, too, and Mrs. Barlmra Temple loved the world just as a flower loves sunlight; she obeyed a law of her own nature. But tho cheerfulness with which she obeyed it: her I unquestioning faith in the power of the I world to satisfy every want; the absence of! suspicion that then- could be any higher: motive in life, or, indeed, any other motive! at all, anil the cheerfulness and alacrity with which she followed out her convictions, made her of necessity a vigorous and original character. All that make-, what such peoplo call "the world" she longed for and prized, i Accomplishments, money, taste, health, tho good opinion of society, these, and a thous and kindred matters, sho regarded as sever ally constituents of happiness, to bu sought with the utmost solicitude every hour of tin day. She was grateful t<> the world for being what it was to her?an ever-running fountain of desire or pleasure. Have 1 sufficiently sketched her figure? Will a few strokes more make her a clearer image in your mind's eye; She was short, as 1 have said, trimly built, perhaps a t rifle too stout, but that might be disputed. Her nose was rather large, but finely cut. like her sec ond daughter's, und she dressed her brown , hair in short ringlets, which well suited tho stylo of her face. Her color was good and lti.Lcli enough to make |icople ask questions, and tier eyebrows wero not five rrom sus picious traci-s of making up. Her dress was always rich rind admirably d t-. her figure ami years; for.she was careful to look full forty-live, sie- avoided nil nbsunl all'ee tation of youth, and although .! kind of sprightly dancing step, which she often fell into, might have seemed rather a fault in tin* direction, most of us considered this gait noth ing but surplus vitality acting on n frame sei light and plump that it seemed made to skip, or bound like a ball CHAPTER IV. FIFTY AND FORTV-FTVE. Our little town of Kettlewoll had inhab itant to the number of ten thousand, and three churches; but of these latter, two were what at that date were called district churches, and the great ancient parish church was the ecclesiastical center of tho town. Like many another such noble structure, it was but poorly endowed, and the rewards which it offered to its minister were chiefly tho contemplation of venerable architecture, and a social position of considerable import ance. The saying always was that none but a man of fortune could be rector of. Kettle well. Consequently, at each vacancy tho bishop was in a difficulty. Rich men he could find, ablo men he could find; but to find one rich'and able, too, was not so easy, and at the last appointment, being unable to meet with a clergymai. thus doubly qualified ho had chosen a wealthy parson of rather meager abilities, who was now our spiritual chief. The Rev. Anthony Bront was a cheerful man, undersized, with a merry nose of ruby, and a countenance donoting neither deep learning nor that isolation of character which is natural in men who live above the world. Indeed, Mr. Brent did not live, nor affect ' live, ono inch above the level of commonplace cheerful life. Ho told us from his puipit that human things aro frail and nothing worth, and that man is full of misery; but having folded up his sermon, he seemed to have folded up his theology too, for when you met him on week days he was full of comfort and good cheer. Perhaps we are fastidious people; perhaps wo are ignorant; certain it is that we never could quite satisfy ourselves that Mr. Brent was altogether a gentleman. His manners were no better than a blithe lissom creature such as he might have picked up in ten years between twenfcy-flvo and thirty-fivo. Ho had a way of alluding to "my gardener" and "my banker" which seemed to show, so Sparking said?Mr. Brent employed tho rival practitioner?that some time in his life he had neither bank nor garden. It is very possible that had no not been so good natured, his vul garity might have been obvious, v*lch it never was; for, indeed, we could not be quite sure that ho was vulgar at all. Another thing puzzled us; where had his fortune come from? He was very wealthy and a widower, and our idea was that Mrs. Brent had brought the money. This, too, was guess, and nothing but guess. Such, then, was our rector; a man liked, but not greatly respected, and yet a man whom none could condemn or fairly despise; a shallow man, equal to reading his newspaper, and no more; on good terms with the world, ablo without any strain of con science to preach saintly sermons, copied out from standard divines, and nt tho some time livo an easy average life; a comfortable man, witbjiood intentions, sound digestion, a full purse and cellar, and one who never let his kitchen chimney freeze. It was tho reverend widower Brent whom we upon consideration had assigned to our lively Mrs. BarbaraTemploas third husband; and events went rapidly to show that our forecast was not inexact. Mr. Brent was about fifty; Mrs. Barbara Templo was well known to be about forty-five; so that on tho score of age there was nothing against the match; and as to inclination, tho rector soon mado it evident that there was no obstacle on his side. Everybody remarked that he took tho Temples up with remarkable warmth. Ho gave dainty little lunches and snug little dinners for them; and ho was forever calling hi Hv carriage to take one or other of the girls a drive, the littlo mother attending as chaperon. At first we were in doubt as to which Jio TVtts pursuing?mother or daughters; and^ve even thought that grave Sophia, with herflifinpuily face, had attracted him; but wo '"^Sgo't that ho wax a man of somo common sense. Mrs. Templo was his choice; her vivacity, hor polis-h, her knowledge of the world, her untiring energy, were all after his own" heart. He soon began to drop hints, as men do who have matrimony in their heads. "Mrs. Temple was a remarkably fine woman." "Forty-five was tho exact ago that tho wifo of a man of flftj' should be?tho exact age." "Mrs. Temple did not look forty-five" (ho ad mitted that), "but"?and he would drop his voice?"ho know she was every day of it" The intimation was that ho had either seen the register of her baptism or she had told him tho fact direct, and ho declared ovor and over again, with amusing earnestness and pub licity, that forty-flvo was the age ho approved of; that for a man of his Btandlng one year younger would bo ono year too young, and ono year older ono yoar too old. Of course, po far ho had not said that ho hoped or wished to marry Mrs. Temple, but the drift of his conversation and conduct was unmistakable. In tho meantimo it was evidont that the lively widow did not disliko attentions which had now becomo so marked that even those saw them who could soo nothing. Sho ex changed compliments froely with tho rector, invited him to her house, praised his ser mons, and she was actually found one even ing at a missionary meeting over which ho presided. She listened to his speech with the utmost attention, sitting erect, and keeping her eyes fixed upon him, although it would have been hard to say whether sho knew or cared less about the subject. She could not have told in which continent tho district spoken of lay, nor whethor the people were white, brown or black; but sho listened as attentively as if sho hud been hearinp; of dear relations in a far-off land. In short, with garden parties and lunches and dinners and drives, things went so fur that we all considered the matter settled; and whon we heard that no proposals had yet l>eca made, we all agreed that there must be a tacit engagement, which, for somo private reasons, was not just yet to bo avowed. To all intents and purposes, we regarded Mrs. Temple and Mr. Brent as affianced; and, on the whole, we approved of our rector's choice. Certainly we should have liked a lady moro interested in religious affairs; but then, wo argued, it was much bettor than if he had married a young woman. So, balancing matters, we accepted the event with satisfac tion. The rector was in ecstasies. He was in Ids ('lenient, dancing attendance on these four brilliant women; ami really a careless ob server might have been puz/.led to tell which of the four he was pursuing. lu the most polished of huts, the newest of suit-., (ho most faultless lavender gloves, ami looking all over a comfortable ecclesiastic, he would Hit around them, glowing and beaming with satisfaction. The girls, for their part, ac cepted his civilities with charming freedom; ami their mother?shrewd woman?never manifested the smallest jealousy. In this, besido proving her own good sense, she paid hor admirer a compliment which he fully de served ; for he looked tijK>n tho three girls as daughters already, and was fond of them in the most parental fashion. "Ah. Mis. Temple,"' he said one day. when he was getting hot, as the children say in their hide-and-seek game. "I have but ono child - a s r.. ;l d.'ar good fellow, away in Australia. 1 always longed for ?Inti^lin-rs." Whereupon Mrs. Barbara Temple turned f?ll upon him one of her kern Inoln, irhieh said: "I understand," but a good humored look all the time; and then she broke into a little bland laugh and made herself more comfortable in her seat, for they were driv ing. The rector was just going t<> propose then and there; but it happened that the car riage, speeding down the dusty road, mcl the curate, who was footing it home from some rcniote part of the parish, where he had been visiting a sick old woman. He signaled tne carriage to stop and addressed the rector: "Old Spearman is dying," he said. "Poor Hannah Spearman!" the rector re plied, shaking his head. "I have known her many years. Poor Hannah Spearman!" "Polly," tho curate remarked?"Polly Spearman." "Of course, it is Polly," the rector rejoined. "In visiting about a parish like mine"?ho turned to Mrs. Temple?"one's head gets so full of Follies and Sallies and Billies that one is apt to take the name that comes first. I am sorry for poor Han?Polly. But what can you do in a case of natural decay?" " It is not natural decay," the curate answered, with a waggish dryness in his manner. "Shy fell down stairs." "To l>e sure she fell down stairs!" little Mr. Brent cried, reproving his faulty memory by a gesture of his gloved hand. "How camo I to confound the two?complaints?" "Perhaps because you are suffering from a third," roto rtod tho curate. Ho loved a joke and had before this brokei a jest on his own bishop. And our rector was a temptiug ob ject, being not apt to take offense, and uol one to inspire great respect or fear. The carriage drove on: but for once little Mr. Brent was downright angry. "Rather an impertinent speech," he oakl, glancing diffidently at Mrs. Temple. "Impertinent!" cried easy-humored Mrs. Temple. "Nothing of the sort" "Milligan has no sense of propriety." She gavo a little laugh. "I like Mr. Milligan." At this Mr. Brent took heart, changed his view of the matter, reddened with pleasure, and gave himself up to laughter, which lasted until the tears were chasing each other down his rosy cheeks. But somehow tho proposal was not made that day. CHAPTER V. VANITY CAN VANQUISH LOVE. The following morning Mr. Brent received a letter from his son in Australia, announc ing his intention of returning to England for a few months. The reason of this return the letter went on to furnish. The son said he feared his fathor would think him very foolish; hut love was bringing him home, and here was the worst of the matter?love under very peculiar circumstances. He had fallen in love with?a picture! He had seen tho portrait of a girl whoso face had impressed him as never the living face of any woman had, and having ascertained that the original of the picture really lived, and was English, and not a duchess or a princess, which well she might be, but a girl of his own rank in life, young Brent was determined to find her out and try to secure her for himself. Tho letter wound up in very ingenuous language, admitting tho apparent absurdity of tho whole proceeding; but protesting that the pas sion was true and deep, and that nothing could end it except realization or absolute and ascertained' hopelessness. Rector Brent was a good natured man and a kind father; so ho shook Ids head and smiled over his son's folly, being a sago him self. But he wrote a kind reply, saying that his son would bo always wclcomo homo under any conceivablo circumstances, and that though ho must confess tho expedition seemed rather wild, yet he well knew that in the latter scenes of tho affair his son would bo ruled by his own good sense and his father's counseL "And now," tho rector said, as ho sealed this praiseworthy epistle, "I think before Per cival comes home I had better havo my af fairs settled" This he said, and as he spoke he looked at his own likeness in the chimney glara. Something struok him "Dear me," he exclaimed, "I must get some new teeth!" For fifty years of good living had told upon this portion of his mechanism; and .now re flectiug that he was about to marry, ho reasoned thus: "At such times wo refurnish our houses. Think of a man refurnishing his house, and not refurnishing his mouth! If I am to havo a new dining tablo, I ought to havo a new set of teeth to use at it. Besides?" He grinned in tho glass. "Yes," ho said, shaking his head, "not at all prepossessing." He grinned again, and this time by the power of fancy set new white teeth in tho vacant spaces. "Not a doubt of it," he murmured; the greatest improvement!" So that morning, Instead of making a pro posal of marriage to the lively widow, ho went to an adjacent town, where a notable .dentist practiced, and hero he had his jaws overhauled and a plan of tho projected im provement/; drawn out The dentist was a man of chat, and when ho ascertained whence tho parson came ho had all sorts of questions to ask about various people in the neighbor hood, and curious stories to tell, and gossip to exchange; so that our little rector, porchod in the operating chair, laughed and chirruped and looked tho imago of enjoyment Short sighted man! "By tho way," said tho dolitlst, pausing a moment with one of his tools in Bis hand, "has not a Mrs. Temple settled rfi Eettlewcll during the past year?" Rector Brent know that a faint blush shot out of his cheek as he answered "Yes." "A romarkablo woman," tho dentist con tinued, forgetting his task, while with a med itative fuce he seemed to contemplate bygono days. "A very remarkable woman." "A very, rer;/ rc*nnrkablo woman," the rector replied, determined to add an adverb in this very peculiar case. "Wonderful energy," said the dentist. '?Most wonderful!" the rector rejoined, still on tho augmentation principle. "Ami such a face and figure!" the operator said again. "Ah, such a face and figure!" repeated the rector, unable to refrain from rubbing his hands together. "For her yours," the dentist remarked, in an explanatory voice. "0, come, come!" cried tho rector, in tones of remonstrance. "I don't see that. Sho is youthful, certainly, and sprightly; but still women are not old at forty-live." "At what five?" asked the dentist, not hav ing caught the first word. "Forty-live," repeated the rector, boldly and emphatically. '?Seventy-five, more likely," the blunt den tist Sflid, now intent on his tool, which was out of repair. ??(), 1 see, 1 see!" cried Hector Brent; "you are talking of her mother. We don't know I tho mother. The mother does not live with I them now." "IJnlc.-s Mrs. Barbara Tempil' is herself and her mother at the same time I am not I talking of her mother." the dentist an swered. "That lady is seventy years of age, if she is seven." Saying this with great unconcern, he ad vanced to take some further measurement of the clergyman's mouth, and observing his face of horror, he said, reassuringly: "D? n't lie uneasy: lam not going to tako | anything out." The rector, gasping, waved him away. So convulsive were his movements that for a moment I he dent ist feared thai lie might havo . left ..i.I Iiis minor implements ill the ! patient's mouth, whic h implement, having ! been m-idv?rt"iitly swallowed, was. from its unaccommodating material and unusual i shape, lining violence to nature in one or | other of :i ? ennuis which travels.- the human continent. "Do you menu to say," said the astounded | clergyman at last, "that Mrs. Barbara Tern- | pie?the lady who has three fine daughters? | is more than forty-live;" ?Before one of those young ladies was born," the- dentist replied, little thinking how dreadful were his words, "I made a front tooth for Mrs. Temple?not Mrs. Temple then. She was a remarkably handsome woman, something over forty?just a tint of gray in her hair. I was not surprised when I heard, a few months after, that young Cap tain Temple was going to marry her. But I tons a Uttlo suq^rised when I heard subse quently that his wife was going to present him with a child: and when I heard that this child was followed by a second, and that by a third, T was, I confess, surprised not a little." "But Mrs. Temple was only about two-and twenty when she married the second time," the rector said, still unable to credit what he heard. "My dear sir," the dentist said, laughing, "I havo known Mrs. Barbara Temple as a woman for five-and-forty years at the least. Let mo see"?he went through some half-audi ble calculation?"I remember her jilting a man in 1785." "Thon," the rector cried, leaping from the chair and smiting hand against hand till the room rang, "I shall never believe anything in this world again except the three creeds and the Ten Commandments. Nothing is to 1? trusted?not eyes nor ears nor the human rea son. Forty-five?seventy-five! jilted a man in seventeen hundred and ninety-five! Why, then, she must remember the French Revolu tion! 0 dear, 0 dear, how very hot it has be1 . como I" The reader who is ol>servant and a student of his kind must have remarked that nature now and then fashion* u weakly sort of brain, which a single glur.s of binnil beer will bemud dle. In a similar way does that by no means infallible workman sometimes turn out a brain which cannot stand the shock of strange or di agreeable tidings. Rector Brent was for practical purposes tipsy that afternoon. The disclosure had got into his head. It is time that his legs did not stagger, but his reason did. He did not know his rieht hand from his left, and wus prepared to commit any blunder. While his mind was in a chuon of ideas that whirled round and about like leaves iu an aulumuul stonn, he said to himself that something must bo done. An insane ?omething it was which ho fixed upon. He would go straight to Mrs. Temple and tax her with dissimulation. Tho excited little gentleman never considered that the lady hail not made any vtatement of her age with which she could Ih> confronted. Nor did hid preparation of impending absurdity stop here. Fully resolved as ho hod been to propose to the widow, and ns'.ured as he had felt that she both ksew his intention and fav orably regarded it, he quite forgot in his hurry of mind that he had never addressed hor hi the way of marriage. So he actually come before her hi the posture of a betrayed suitor, and, as will be seen, he used language projier only to that particular part In the hu man comedy. But this is leaping from cliaptor to chapter. As we'close this one let us simply mark our parson stepping out of his carriage at Mrs. Barbara Temple's door. His breath is hur ried, his face is red, his manner is disordered. And we may be sure that these outward mnrlcs of confusion and annoyance convoy only a very inadequate picture of the state of his reasoning faculties. Theso were, indeed, in that state of riot and darkness which in most eases is the acknowledged preliminary to bedlam. _[to be continued ]_ ?R. ?TT'S ALTERATIVE PILLS, SAFE, BTJEE AND BSLIABLE FOB TBE AFFECTIVE CUBE OF ALL AFFECTIONS OF THE DISORDE74ED AND TORPID LIVER, DERANGED STOMACH AND IMPURE BLOOD, Such as Biliousness, Chills and Fever, Liver Complaint, Jaundice Sick and Nervous Headache, Indigestion, Constipa tion Heartburn, Sour Stomach, Lossof Appe tite, Eruptions, Skin Diseases Diarrhoea, etc. OTT'S ALTERATIVE PILLS is no patent preparation, or experimental humbug, but are compounded after a formula of an emi nent Southern physician of 30 years' expe rience. They have been used and tested in his practice and vicinity for years, and the demand has so increased that at present it becomes necessary to manufacture them regularly for the trade, which has only been done for the past six month, and upon their merits alone, unassisted by advertising; their sale is unprecedented and astonishing. Get a box and try them. For sale by D. J. G. WANNAMAKER. Sept 30-lyr._Orangeburg, S. C. T, DeChiavette, SIGN OF THE WATCH. NORTH SIDE RUSSELL STREET. The undersigned calls the attention of he citizens of Orangeburg and elsewhere throughout the State to his first class assortment ok WATCHES, CLOCKS, EVERY ARTIBLE IN THE JEWELRY LINE, EYE GLASSES, &c, Ac, which he is prepared to sell at the lowest market prices. His stock on hand is VARIED AND CHOICE, AND CANNOT BE SUR PASSED. REPAIRING WATCHES, CLOCKS AND JEWELRY he makes a specialty, and guarantees perfect satisfaction in every case. Customers are solicited to give his articles and work a fair trial before going elsewhere. T. DeCMAVETTE, Oct 7- Watchmaker and Jeweler. ~Z. M. WOLFE, (AT SCHIFFLEY'S OLD STAND.) Dealer in CHOICE FAMILY GROCERIES and the KI3MT AXn ILB4fci;<>RS. Pure N. C. Distilled CORN WHISKEY a sperialtv, Si.7." per gallon. Pure UVB WHISK KV. 81,73 !??* gallon. Fine old BAKER BYE WHISKEY, 8-1.00 per gallon. XNXX GIBSON WHISKEY, 83.75 per gallon. also Fl NE SEGARS AND TOBACCO IN STOCK. As I expect to change business on first of January, will sell cheaper than any house in the City. Don't mistake the place, but call at the Northwest corner of Railroad Avenue and Russell street, right at Railroad Sign. Sepl '_?:>-."mos* 'fl'h?' Stsite off South Carolina? ORANGEUURG COUNTY. BY r.l'.N.i. 1?. I7.LAH, ESQ., MtOUATE judge. TX7HERKAS, L. II. Wannamaker, C. C. t t P. has made suit to me to grant him Letters uf Administration of the derelict es tate and effects of Sam'] Farrison, deceased : These are therefore to cite and admonish all ami singular the kindred and Creditors of the said Sam*] Farrison,deceased, that they be and appear before mein the Court of Probute, tu be held at Orangeburg Court house, on the 'list day of December next, after publication hereof, at II o'clock iu the forenoon, to shew cause, if any they have, why the said Administration should not be granted. Given under my hand, this 22nd day of November, Anno Domini. 1S8B. Ben.i. P. IZLAIt, Nov :!.>?; Judge ol Probate.