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adopted in the 46th half-brigade, to which Latour d'Auvergne belonged, of treating him as though he were still alive and with his regiment, until, on his name being called out, some one replied, "Mort au champ d'honneur! It appears that this custom, which was at length abandoned, has lately been reintroduced by the present commandant of the 46th half-brigade, Colonel Aubry; and that when at Satory, where the 46th half-brigade is now stationed, the Grenadier Latour d'Auvergne is asked for, the regulation answer, "Mort au champ d'honneur," is pronounced. Latour d'Auvergne's sword hangs in the Church of the Invalides, - called, when it was first placed there by the Republicans, "Temple of Mars," and probably on receiving it Garibaldi will restore it to what has been its resting-place for the last three quarters of a century.

The

Ir is a remarkable fact, says the Pall Mall Gazette, that women, in their search for employment, have never turned their attention towards that of "mutes" at funerals. duties of a mute are such as could not only be well performed by woman, but are in many ways peculiarly adapted for her. As a mute she would have an opportunity of exercising her taste in quiet, unpretentious garments, and of preserving silence; she would also be regarded with a sober seriousness while engaged in her duties, which could not fail to be most gratifying to the strong-minded of her sex. A most successful funeral in which woman played an important part took place at Padua in 1518, and, indeed, in some respects, the arrangements of this funeral were in all ways less depressing than the run of ordinary burials. An eminent lawyer, by name Lodovich Cartusius, who died in July of that year, before his death strictly forbade his relations to shed any tears at his funeral, and enforced this order on his heir by a heavy penalty in case of disobedience. He further directed that fiddlers should take the place of mourners on the sad occasion, and that twelve maids in green habits should carry his remains to the church of St. Sophia, where he was buried, the ceremony to be enlivened by songs from these ladies, who were to be recompensed for the service by a handsome sum of money allotted for their marriage portions. The monks of the convent at Padua, who were invited to the funeral, were on no account to wear black habits, lest they should throw a gloom over the cheerfulness of the procession. If funerals were conducted in this fashion, there would perhaps be a fainter call for cremation, and woman would have no necessity for repressing her natural delight at the obsequies of man.

GARIBALDI's new work, "I Mille," has appeared at Turin in the form of a handsome volume, consisting of 450 pages, and having a title-page inscribed with Petrarch's lines:

"Virtu contra furore

Prenderà l'armi e fia il combatter corto,
Chè l'antico valore

Negl' Italico cor non è ancor morto."

It has a long preface, addressed to the youth of Italy, who are reminded that politics are every man's concern, since each one has an interest in knowing whether his bark will be steered against rocks, or turned straight to port. Appealing to the Roman youth specially, he begs that such an example of quiet, dignified energy may be set by them, that their city shall be as a pole-star to every other Italian community, until Italy shall have secured her place as a flourishing and honored land. The main part of the work, comprising sixty-three chapters, is occupied with the narrative of the exploits of the thousand volunteers, from which it takes its name. It concludes with an address to the 4322 subscribers for the volume, who are assured that the author feels that his active share in political events is over, and that in giving them this work as a memento of his past exertions for his fatherland, he is conscious of the faults which it exhibits, regrets he was unable to produce anything more worthy of their acceptance, and assures them of his sympathy. It appears that only 1942 persons have paid in their subscription of five francs, but the money thus obtained has already been disposed of, and after pay

ing for the printing and publishing of the work, the manag ing committee have invested the surplus in Italian stocks, for the benefit of the author.

A ROMANCE in very high life has just been brought to its last act. One of the most noted of the South German nobles was the Prince of Thurm and Taxis. He had been Minister to the late King of Bavaria, and his son was aidede-camp to the present King. It is this son who is the hero of the German romance. Long ago the Lord of Burleigh chose his wife from the peasantry, and King Cophetua swore a Royal oath that a beggar maid should be his bride; but neither of these traditional lovers went so far as the young Bavarian Prince of our day. It was an obscure actress who fascinated him, and for whom he was content to sacrifice everything. These conventional words meant a great deal in this case. The marriage actually was solemnized, but it was made subject to conditions of a very rigorous character, which were imposed upon the bridegroom as a condition of the family assent. He was to renounce all his paternal rights, and even his name. He was to be no longer the Prince of Thurm and Taxis, but a plain bourgeois, and he was to receive an annual allowance of 5000 florins. It might seem that such conditions would be impossible. The only answer is that they were exacted, that the marriage did occur, and that the Prince descended into plain M. de Fels. He had, however, a very fine tenor voice and a very beautiful bride, and he made his début a short time ago at the theatre at Zurich. The story so far reminds one of Mario's history, who was Marquis of Candia in his own right; but here the resemblance ceases. The Swiss are not an imaginative people, and care very little for romantic sacrifices. M. de Fels was hissed off the stage at Zurich, and retired into private life. It was easy to descend from rank and position; it was difficult to reacquire them. The young Prince was brother-in-law of the Duchess of Bavaria, nephew of the major-domo to the Court of Prince Oettingen; so great efforts were made to restore this would-be tenor within the princely circle. At last a way was found to achieve the end. On the Lake of Chiem, King Ludwig had an estate known as Herreninsel, and there it has been the custom to give great water-parties and nautical fêtes. A theatre is to be built there, of which the artists are to consist almost exclusively of the aristocracy. Scenes out of Wagner's operas are to be represented, and Offenbach and Hervé are also to appear on the bills. But for this distinguished theatre a dignified manager has to be provided, and the Grand Duchess of Bavaria, who has a taste for diplomacy, has thus found the means of introducing her nephew within the ring-fence of his native aristocracy. The name of Paul de Fels, which appeared in the Zurich playbill, will be heard of no longer, and the Prince of Thurm and Taxis will be known in future as Marshal of the Royal Palace and Master of the Revels to the young King of Bavaria. It is the habit of some foreign editors to admit statements into their journals "under all reserve," and when this sentence is seen, it is tacitly understood that imagination has something to do with the announcements; but no such qualification has accompanied the reports of this chapter of romance.

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EVERY SATURDAY:

A JOURNAL OF CHOICE reading, PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY, 219 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON;

NEW YORK: HURD AND HOUGHTON;
Cambridge: The Riverside Press.

Single Numbers, 10 cts.; Monthly Parts, 50 cts.; Yearly Subscription, $5.00. N. B. THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY and EVERY SATURDAY sent to one address for $8.00.

SPECIAL NOTICE.

THE publishers of EVERY SATURDAY announce to the subscribers of that journal and to the public generally, that under an arrangement with Messrs. Littell & Gay, EVERY SATURDAY will, after the number for October 31st, be merged in Littell's Living Age. The two periodicals are issued weekly and cover the same general ground, so far indeed that the contents of one frequently appear in the other. There seems to be no good reason why the same field should be occupied by both. The combination of the two journals will leave The Living Age the only eclectic weekly published in the country; and the unexpired subscriptions to EVERY SATURDAY, and its advertising contracts, will be filled by The Living Age. To the readers of Every Saturday we take pleasure in commending The Living Age; it will complete the serials now publishing in EVERY SATURDAY, its larger subscription price is

made up by its greater amount of matter, and its reputation is too well established to need words of praise from us

CARD FROM LITTELL & GAY.

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE, the pioneer in its special field, will on the first of November, through the arrangement above mentioned, again become the only periodical of the country which places before American readers in cheap and convenient form, and at the same time with satisfactory freshness and completeness, the productions of the ablest foreign authors as contained in the periodical literature of Europe, and especially of Great Britain. This work it has successfully performed for more than thirty years, and under the arrangement now announced, it will go forward with increased resources and vigor.

It will continue and complete the serials left unfinished in EVERY SATURDAY, viz., the remarkable story, "Far from the Madding Crowd," by Thomas Hardy, and the "Three Feathers," by the charming writer, William Black. Although a higher-priced periodical, it will be sent without additional charge to fill out the unexpired subscriptions to EVERY SATURDAY now on the subscription list of Messrs. H. O. Houghton & Co.

The attention of those who have been purchasing EvERY SATURDAY of booksellers is also respectfully called to THE LIVING AGE as its only substitute, which though larger in price is proportionately larger in the amount of "the best periodical literature of the world" which it presents. For further particulars their attention, and that of the public generally, is invited to the prospectus of THE LIVING AGE which will be found in this number of EvERY SATURDAY. Particular notice of the Club Rates, contained in the prospectus, is requested, whereby subscribers may obtain THE LIVING AGE with The Atlantic Monthly, or any other of the leading American periodicals, at considerably reduced rates.

No effort will be spared to render THE LIVING AGE

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The November Atlantic will contain a fa thful sketch of a Southern negro woman, by "Mark Twain." The humorist scarcely appears at all in his own person, but he puts the character he draws in a very clear light.

"William Story has finished in the clay," says a correspondent writing from Rome, "a statue of Alcestis. The figure is of heroic size, standing, and represents the devoted wife in the first moment of her return to life and the upper world from the shades, redeemed from the death she had voluntarily accepted, as the condition of her husband's life, by the enterprise and might of Hercules. Those who tragedy of Euripides may probably have been familiarhave never made acquaintance with the myth from the

ized with it by one of the most remarkable of Mr. Browning's more recent poems. Mr. Story shows her to us at the moment she is stepping into the new life to which she has been reconducted from the death to which she had devoted herself. And perhaps what first strikes the spectator is the completeness with which the story is told for the telling of it. combined with the extreme simplicity of the means used, A female form, with head and face,

slightly raised, clad in soft drapery, which falls from the

hinder half of the head to the feet, so as to hide half of them, in the simplest and apparently most unstudied folds gathering her drapery about her with her right hand and arm, visible from the elbow downward, and with the right leg and foot advanced (so far only as to show the front half of the advancing foot below the falling robe), is advancing with slow and hesitating step toward the spectator. The left leg and foot follow doubtfully and almost reluctantly. And the left arm and hand hang by her side with an entire absence of action, the truly wonderful expressiveness of which is more eloquent of all that the artist has to tell the spectator, than any conceivable action could be. The face is a very noble one, and the full arch of the top of the head, large in the development which is deemed to indicate the vigor of the moral feelings, together with the purity and openness of the features, speaks the woman capable of acting as the myth tells us that Alcestis acted. The face is in no wise clouded by doubt. open, frank, and full of the gentle fearlessness which is a large constituent part in the noblest female natures. But it is full also of unbounded surprise, and o a gradual recognition of the truth of the marvel which has happened to her. Mr. Story's reputation already stands very high; but if I am not wholly mistaken, the Alcestis will add to it."

It is

-It is noticeable in running the eye over recent inventions and patents, how many have reference to railways and affect the travelling public: inventions to improve couplings and brakes, improved smoke-stack and spark-arrestors, and among others an improved car step, which is apparently one of those elaborate improvements which are intended to prevent people who use horse-cars from distressing conductors by running unnecessary risks. Each step is so arranged that by moving a hand lever the conductor can raise it or turn it on hinges so as to cap over the edge of the platform. On the entrance or exit of the passenger, the step is lowered, and the weight of the person, acting on suitable levers, moves spring pawls,

and, through them, a ratchet-wheel governing a dial above the car door, which registers the fact; so that every time a person gets off the crowded car to accommodate a passenger, he counts one for the conductor. In addition to their office of operating the registering apparatus, the steps prevent passengers getting on or off the cars at will, whereby many accidents are avoided. They are also a check on the conductor, since a failure to raise the steps while the car is in motion would be considered equivalent to an attempt to defraud the railroad company.

Archæological students, says Frank Leslie, will doubtless be much gratified with the opening of two new fields for investigation one in Southern Arizona, the other in Illinois. About a year ago the construction of irrigating canals was commenced in the Pueblo Viejo Valley, lying on the south of the Gila River. While thus at work, surveyors very unexpectedly came upon a chain of cities in ruins, in some instances the walls being above the surface. An examination of the countless tumuli in the vicinity revealed large quantities of pottery, household utensils, and human bones, but no weapons of war. Some of the hammers or axes were of a quality of stone harder than any now in use, while of the clay vessels many showed the clearest evidences of the Roman style of decoration. Pebbles of ebony hue externally, but transparent when held to the light, were scattered about. Various conjectures were formed of the race of people who built and inhabited these cities, as well as the cause of the destruction. From the quantity of human bones and the mass of charcoal lying close to them, it is possible either that the cities were destroyed by fire, or that the places in question had been devoted to the purpose of cremation. Some have considered

these remains as representing a semi-civilized tribe conquered by Montezuma; while others claim that Mexico never produced specimens of pottery similar to those of this place. The second field is a high table-land on Rock River,, Illinois, some six miles from Rockford City. Excavations were made in a great mound, and at a depth of nine feet a tablet of Niagara spar was found, with traced and bevelled edges, and a series of eccentric carvings that probably were designed to perpetuate some event. Six of the figures correspond perfectly with Libyan characters, letters of the oldest African nations. Fourteen distinct figures may be traced on the tablet, including those of a well-formed fish, a lizard, and two serpents. As in Arizona, a quantity of bones and small pieces of rock exhibiting perfect fin-marks were found near the tablet. This is the most recent examination of the work of the Mound-builders in the West; and as further excavations are to be made, many theories concerning the early settlement of Wisconsin, Ohio, Illinois, Indiana, Mississippi, and West Virginia may be established thereby.

-A board of cavalry officers has just reported on the equipments of the service, which have hitherto been rather clumsy, though capable of standing a good deal of wear and tear. The board suggests but few alterations, all tending to lightness and service, but is very particular as to the minutiae of shaping saddle-trees, the great deficiency in our cavalry sets being in the awkward fits of saddles, and consequent sore backs among the horses. The new saddle is a model of lightness and strength, without flaps, and provided with saddle-bags that will really be of use to a soldier, holding all he needs except forage, which is carried in the useful forage sack, invented but not patented by our rough and ready dragoons during the civil war. The only item that remains, which seems subject to rapid decay, is the wooden stirrup, which is substantially unchanged. The old heavy bit gives place to one seven ounces lighter,

and the felt saddle-cloth is to be used on requisition, together with a really serviceable saddle-blanket. In accoutrements, the most noticeable change is a set of car tridge loops on the belt, invented by General Hazen, for the rapid use of metallic ammunition. The cartridge-boxes are also improved in shape. A nose-bag, perforated for ventilation, is to be added to the present equipment.

-The Troy papers contain accounts of a wonderful piece of mechanism which has recently been produced by F. Shroeder, an Amsterdam jeweller. It is called the "Great Mechanical City," and is twenty feet long by fifteen wide. There are houses, castles, churches, and stores in it, just as they appear in almost any European city. People walk and ride about. Horses and wagons and railway cars pass through the streets. Boats pass up and down the river, while some are loading and others unloadA fountain plays ing at the docks. Mills are in motion. in the public park, and a band of musicians fills the air with melody. There are also forts with soldiers parading about them, blacksmith's shops with artisans at work in them, and pleasure gardens with people dancing in them. Other scenes go to make this a wonderful structure indeed.

-In his "Key to North American Birds," Mr. Coues expressed his apprehensions that the English sparrow would molest and drive away our native species. He now writes to the American Naturalist that these apprehensions have already been verified. From a letter written by Mr. Thomas G. Gentry, it appears that, in the neighborhood of Germantown, Pa., the English sparrows are driving away the robins, blue-birds, and native sparrows. "They increase so rapidly, and are so pugnacious, that our smaller native birds are compelled to seek quarters elsewhere." It is chiefly on this account that Mr. Coues has already been opposed to the introduction of the English sparrow, but also for other reasons. He holds that there is no occasion for them in this country, and that the good they do in destroying certain insects has been overrated. The time will come, he says, when it will be deemed advisable to take measures to get rid of these birds, or at least to check their increase.

A gentlewoman who lives in St. Mark's Place, New York city, says the New York Observer, owns a pure-bred Spanish spaniel, which some time ago evinced a musical talent. One day its mistress was singing "No one to love," and was surprised at hearing the dog join in the song; and turning round she saw it standing on its hind feet, endeavoring to keep time with the music. Taking it in her lap she resumed the song, and the dog, sitting on its haunches, with its fore paws on her neck, threw its head back and began to howl, keeping perfect time with her, stopping to take breath when she stopped, and taking up a new strain when she commenced. The dog seems to have taken such a fancy to this song that it is impossible to persuade it to join in when any other is being sung; in fact, it manifests great uneasiness at hearing any other, but immediately on the striking up of the well-known strains its agitation ceases, and wagging its tail with joy, it joins in the song.

The number of canary birds in the United States is estimated at 900,000, of which number 300,000 were im

ported last year. Additions come only from importation, since the number raised in this country, yearly, only about equals the number lost through various causes. Of other cage birds there are about 100,000, and the whole consume about 175,000 bushels of seed in a year. Of this amount more than two thirds is canary-seed, and the rest is hemp-seed, rape-seed, millet, cracked wheat, etc., to the value of more than $2,000,000 annually.

EVERY SATURDAY.

A FOURNAL OF CHOICE reading.

VOL. II.]

HIS TWO WIVES.1

BY MARY CLEMMER AMES.
CHAPTER XXIX.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 31, 1874.

ETHELINDA.

IT had been snowing for days. The rustling seedvessels shivering on their shrivelled stems, the withered ferns, the sodden leaves of rusty brown, the purple lichens, the scarlet berries, all were buried many feet below the muffling snows of the new year. With great difficulty the beginning of a road had been attempted through the woods. Jim Dare's oxen had dragged a path through it only to see it half filled again with the great drifts that scurried before the keening winds. Avalanches of snow rushed with muffled thud from battlement to buttress of the Pinnacle. Snow high as the log-house itself walled it in. Through the hollow squares that had been cut to admit it, the gray light crept feebly and intermittingly into the tiny doublesashed windows. The cold settled down silent, pitiless, freezing, as long night crept after the short-lived day.

As the darkness deepened, Agnes peered through the window toward the woods. "How thankful I am that no one need go on that road to-night!" she said. "Thank God, we are all well," looking with grateful eyes over the little group. "Nothing short of sickness unto death could take any one out such a night into such roads. Even you, Evelyn, must own that it would be almost at the cost of life that any one would attempt the roads to-night."

"Well, child, no one ain't a-goin' to 'tempt 'em. Still, I don't say as I hain't bin thro' 'em nights jest as freezin'. An' I never friz nothin' more 'n my nose; that swelled and blistered and busted at the end every winter at the same time for years after, an' I'm alive yit. Come, deary, don't be looking out the winder jest for the sake of bein' lonesome. Go an' help Jim an' Baby with their candy-pull. If you'll jest stir the butternuts into their taffy, 't 'ill do 'em no end of good."

Agnes did as she was bidden. By the kitchen table Jim, with clean, buttered hands, was pulling with all his might a huge mass of congealed molasses, while Vida with rosy fingers was stirring the maple syrup bubbling in a kettle on the stove. Into this, in due time, Agnes cast the unctuous butternut kernels, and before she left them the "taffy" was cooling in the snow, and the great platter on the table was spread thick with the golden sticks of crisp, twisted candy, which was the delight of Vida's eyes, as the butternut sweets in pilfered quantities was discomfiture to her stomach and tinder to her temper.

[No. 18.

chatted with them as if she thought of nothing else ; but under all, her thoughts would go out in dumb quest into the snow-piled freezing night. Something far out in it seemed projected toward her, till it touched and thrilled that "instinctive nerve " which to one school of physicians explains the deep inward consciousness of unseen things that in the rarest organisms makes the distant nebulous fact a clear, close verity to the interior vision. Something far out in the darkness and the cold seemed to be drawing nearer to her. What was it? She did not know. Nor did she speak of the night again. She sat in silence and waited - waited with a constantly quickening pulse-something, somebody, coming to her!

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"I snum! If thar ain't sleigh-bells!" exclaimed Evelyn with a start, “and - what is the matter? your face is jest gray and your eyes big as saucers why what's to scare ye! "Tain't nothin' but sleigh-bells. Hi Sanderson with a party from the Corners, like as not. They don't feel no cold, all wrapt up in love and bufflo robes, I ken tell ye." Evelyn seized the candle from the table and opening the front door held it out into the blackness. It threw one fitful flare across the snow, fluttered in the wind, and went out.

“Pitch black, an' some un is comin', sure as judgment. Jim, bring the lantern, quick!" screamed Evelyn.

The bells struck keen and clear now against the metallic air as the sleigh emerged from the woods. By the time that Jim's lantern threw its shifting bridge of light across the snow, two horses plunged through the half broken path up to the door, and a man's voice through a fur muffler called from the driver's seat of a covered stage sleigh:

:

"Evelyn Dare, here's a passenger fur you, and a'most dead, I reckon!"

66

Hi Sanderson, is that you, a-drivin'?" "Yes; couldn't trust no one else with a sick woman more 'n I could with a sleighin' party. Come along, Jim. You'll hev to help kerry her in.'

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"In goodness' name, who hev you got!" and Evelyn rushed knee-deep into the snow to hold the lantern to the sleigh door while Hi Sanderson and Jim bore from it what seemed to be a lifeless burden, wrapped in buffalo robes. She preceded it to the house. and once inside she held the lantern before the death-white face now visible between the furs.

"In the name of Almighty God who be you?" she cried with consternation.

"Ethelinda Kane!" exclaimed Agnes in hollow tone, as the face emerged from the robes and the two men laid the motionless form upon the lounge. The dead-white face, the dead-white hair, could these be

Agnes was interested in their "candy-pull" and hers! An old trick of the eyelids, the eyes the same

1 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by H. O. HOUGHTON & Co., in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

as of old, as they slowly opened, told Agnes who had come. As she saw she recoiled "The evil angel of

my life has reached me at last, even here," she said inwardly, and drew still further back.

"It'll be all right, I reckon, another time," said Hi Sanderson, glancing from Evelyn to Agnes. He had performed what he mentally estimated as "a very tough job" that night, and naturally did not want its money value utterly ignored even in the consternation which the new-comer had so visibly caused. Even she understood what he meant, for she began to fumble under her wrappings as if for her purse. This act This act brought Agnes out of the past and into adjustment with the present.

"No, no," she exclaimed for the first time approaching Linda and laying her own hand upon the restless hand under the robe. 66 Please pay Mr. Sanderson now, Evelyn, and I will settle with you," she said, as she turned down the buffalo blanket and compelled her eyes to gaze upon the form within. As she gazed, resentment died. Was this woman the lithe Linda who, when she beheld her last, was so full of acute, subtle life? If she was abnormally alert and dangerous then, she was vanquished now. Because she was vanquished was she here? Agnes did not pause to answer the questions which rushed tumultuously through her mind. Down went the past deeper and deeper beneath the rising pity that now overspread her soul. Wrong, injury, cruelty, lay far back. The scathed hair, the sunken eyes, the pinched face, the hectic cheek, the short laborious breath were before her eyes, appealing to her helping hand and to her tender heart.

Before the sound of Hi Sanderson's retreating sleighbells had died in the distance the freestones were heating for Linda's feet. Warm woollen blankets were wrapped about Linda's attenuated body. Hot spiced drinks, refreshing and gently stimulating, had stirred her benumbed pulses and stolen through her chilled surfaces in a grateful glow. Even the glassy eyes suffused into a mist of human softness. It was evident that she was a very sick woman; but no less apparent that the almost insensible condition in which she arrived was the result of her journey and the extreme cold upon a body already depleted by sick

ness.

Agnes, holding Linda's hands between hers, was trying by the gentlest friction to revive their dull circulation. Linda's eyes looked up to hers with the old repelling trick of their lifting eyebrows. It recalled so much that Agnes involuntarily closed hers while her soft hands rubbed on.

"I thought I could say everything when I saw you," whispered Linda at last, "everything; and I can say nothing."

"Better nothing," said Agnes softly; then fearing these words sounded unkindly, she added, "better nothing till you are stronger."

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"I shall never be any stronger; but I am fast getting warmer, thank and as she withdrew her eyes they encountered Vida's gazing upon her from a corner with the blaze of the lantern falling full upon her face. What was it in that young face with its fresh, bright tints which arrested and held the sick woman's gaze she shook with a spasm of tears? What, but its intangible likeness to the face of the man who had made her existence, and for whose sake she had been ready to destroy her soul?

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"Don't!" said Agnes imploringly. "Don't! I beg of you. You will kill yourself. Vida, come here. Do

you know who this lady is, my darling?" she asked as her little daughter drew close to her side. "Yes, mamma; she is Auntie Linda." "You remember her?"

"Yes, mamma." Vida did not add that she remembered also her Auntie Linda's last lesson was that Vida must love her better than she did her mamma. This recollection made the child's face harden as she gazed now, for the one idol of her heart was her mother. But perceiving the expression of her mother's eyes, she interpreted their meaning and obeyed it. word she stooped and kissed the convulsed face before her. Its painful tension relaxed as the little girl did 80. The bloom of the young cheek touched the wasted one, and at the touch it seemed to smooth it into peace. Linda opened her eyes, stretched forth her feeble arms and held the child to her fluttering heart in a passionate embrace.

"You are like him-like him," she sighed, “as he was once, when I slaved for him, and went hungry that he might eat. Oh, how beautiful he was! I have come so far, so far to find you, and you are like him." "Like whom?" asked the child, lifting her face. "Like your father, sweet one."

Again a shadow crossed the lucent eyes. She remembered her father's face as if it looked out upon her from a distant dream. She knew it by the picture which her mother cherished. Yet the thought of him was a mystery and a doubt. If she had a father, where was he? Why was her mother and she alone? And wherefore had this dreadful Auntie Linda come to make her think of such wretched things?

"Your Auntie Linda loved you so much and took such care of you when you were a little baby, you will nurse her and help to make her well again, won't you?" said her mother, seeing the shadow and seeking to disperse it.

"Yes, mamma, I will. I will help you as much as ever I can; and with a deprecating, downward glance" and Auntie Linda."

Agnes

In another instant the child was glad in her heart that she added the last name, as she beheld with terror the distorted face and racked frame of the new-comer, who was seized with a paroxysm of coughing. held Linda's head, and Vida ran at Evelyn's bidding for the restoratives that might bring present relief. None availed. Nature persisted in its own torturing process of relief, and when it ended, Linda sank into the sleep of prostration. Before she was buried in its oblivion, she was borne by strong, gentle hands into Agnes' room, and laid on Agues' bed. Vida slept upon the lounge in the outer room. Her mother kept watch within at the foot of the sleeper's bed, by the little window where so many hours and days of her later life. had been lived. Here the later creations of her brain and spirit had taken an outline and form. All, this moment, were as if they had never been. With the woman on the bed all the old suffering had come back. She sat face to face with her past. Insect-stings, petty torture, injury, insult, that imbittered her heart, darkened her youth, destroyed her woman's life, did they not live again at the sight of this woman! Wherefore had she come? Wherefore?

The spasmodic breath, the death-struck face, told wherefore. "She needs me," said Agnes' heart softly "needs me. Where are they? Of all on earth why should she come to me to me, who have the least. What have I? What can I have that she

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