THE DROWNED BELLS, 
BY A. A. HOPKINS, 
Just over the water from Tintagel 
Was an ivy-grown church- mnl quaint. 
With never a tenderly pealing hell 
To summon the sinner or saint; 
And the good I'olk heard, when the wind was fair. 
The Tintngol chimes on the evening air, 
And wished for I heir church some chiming bells 
As clear and as sweet as were Tintagel’s. 
The bells they were cost, in a distant land, 
And the vessel that brought them home 
By kindliest breezes was daily fanned, 
Till over the bright sea foam 
The Tintagcl chimes came low and elear,— 
Sweet answer to prayer,—to the pilot’s ear. 
Who, reverent, said in his glad delight, 
“Thank God wo shall sleep on the shore to¬ 
night." 
“Thank God! on tho shore then,” the Captain 
said, 
“ Here thank tint, tho good strong ship.” 
But the pilot piously shook Ills head 
At the words from the Captain's lip. 
“ Nay, nay; we should thank God everywhere, 
Who maketh the winds and the waters fair.” 
“Thou fool!” he was angrily then replied, 
“ Thank but thyself and n favoring tide.” 
The Tintagcl chimes scarce died away, 
As the son went out. of the sky, 
Ere the winds with t he waters begun to play. 
And the waves rolled mountain high; 
And the thick black clouds shut tin- hcavensout, 
And over the ship came an awful doubt, 
While the Captain’s features were blanched with 
fear 
As the pitiless dill's eame threatening near. 
And there, within sight of tho quaint old church, 
The good ship grappled her fate; 
A crash — then .mother a fliml lurch — 
She sank, with her precious freight. 
And only the pilot went home to toll. 
To the sorrowing people wl Tintagcl, 
Why over the water they ne’er should hear 
I In. 1 peal of (he bells that had cost so dear. 
Vet ever since then have the buried bells 
Chimed on with a mournful tone,— 
A sadder and sweeter than Tlntagel’s, 
In tunc with the waves' low moan ; 
And they who dwell now on the neighboring 
morning loll homo to lie absent several 
weeks. They had gone, so it appeared, to 
pay a visit to “ Miss Laura's" friend, Miss 
Ada Wingate, who lived with her father, 
about six miles north of tho Blue Springs. 
Henry cursed his ill luck, but decided not 
to follow them immediately, lie would find 
it. ditlicult. to sec his wile alone while staying 
at her friend’s house, with her father to pro¬ 
tect her. He vented Ida chagrin and disap¬ 
pointment. in reproachful letters to Laura, 
and in the evening drank so heavily that lie 
brought on another attack of Ids malady. 
His faithful attendant was only too glad, 
when he was sufficiently recovered, to per¬ 
suade him to return home for the present. 
1 liree ladies and a child occupied a. morning 
room in Mr, Wingate’s house. One was 
Laura Vincent. She was tall, slender,and 
erect, in form, with her father’s features 
softened into touching loveliness. Her 
brown hair was parted in waving, silken 
luxuriance, over a high, pale forehead; her 
eyes were hazel and shaded by the longest 
ol lashes; her complexion was clear though 
colorless, and her small, compressed mouth 
betokened inflexible firm ness. She was 
dressed in a flowing muslin, and busily 
worked at some embroidery for a child’s 
dress. The little girl, something over two 
sv dtyiviiliaj: 
unsuspected; and out. of this prospective 
lund she promised the lawyer two thousand 
dollars. 
It was nearly noon when Selina entered 
tin* gate at home, and sa w the doctor’s gig 
standing there. She ran up the steps and 
raug the hell hurriedly. The whole house 
seemed to he in confusion. 
“What is the matter V” site asked when 
the servant opened the door. 
“Mass’ Henry done hurt hisself—got 
thrown olT de horse ; 1ml. the doctor say 
dcro wasn’t no danger." 
Tho lady rushed up stairs. The door of 
her cousin s apartment stood open, and the 
maids were carrying out pails of water 
colored with blood. He lay on tin; sofa, 
frightfully pale, his forehead hound up. The 
doctor took Helin a’s band and led lie.' to 
I he other end of the room. 
“ An accident, my dear Madame, that 
poor quadroon good for anything else! But 
there — it might be different.” 
She pul her hand on an open letter that 
lay on the table, took iL up and held it to¬ 
ward Mr, Thorne. “This," slm sard, “de¬ 
termined me to go.” 
Tim letter was from Mrs. Lyon, written. 
Urn same evening slm had seen Oscar. She 
had entered fully into tlm matter; had ex¬ 
plained to the quadroon the mischief and 
wrong her presence occasioned, anti had 
strongly urged her departure. 
“ l did not, know beforesaid I In; girl, 
blushing and faltering, “ that 1 was so de¬ 
graded in everyone’s opinion, 1 never heard 
ot a gentleman’s marrying a quadroon, but. 
those I kpow were nol despised on that ac- 
toms for itnra lists, 
• - 1 ' 
el) 
THE VINCENTS: 
Oil, THE MYSTERY AT THE 1:1.1 K SITIIVGS. 
BY MRS. E. P. ELLET, 
Author or “ W«.h«;v ok the Amkhioan Rrvoi nos 
OK AvtKHI. *', Sorirtv," Ac., Ac. 
“Qinernk 
[Continued from pftgo It, lust No.] 
II. HENRY’S ACCIDENT AND ILLNESS. 
The next morning Vincent was better, 
and able to ride out. Miss Thorne went to 
visit her man of law - Mr. .1 amks Mituheul. 
they had an interesting conversation, during 
Aiiieh the facts ol the case were set forth, 
and the legal adviser entered fully into the 
lady’s schemes. 
“The paper you speak of,” he said,“is in 
no way binding on Mr. Vincent. A father 
cannot release himself from his obligation - to 
maintain his child, which involves authorit y 
over its person. The agreement is null and 
void. He can send for his child and compel 
its restoration.’’ 
I am glad of that! ” exclaimed Mtss 
Selina. 
“We must bring the law," added Mitch¬ 
ell, to bear against the mother. A woman 
has no right to her babe ; the father’s claim is 
paramount. But, as you tell me, lie ex¬ 
presses a positive determination to follow 
Imi to her lather’s house and solicit her 
forgiveness. Having lost his treasure, he 
now longs to recover it. it is human nature, 
madam.” 
I he lady sighed, spread out her hands and 
cast down her eyes. 
“ Now, dear lady,” st dd her legal adviser, 
in a low tone, “ if we -could manage to con¬ 
vince him of her worthlessness ho M-r.nl, l 
Vaughan's room. The evening was con¬ 
siderably advanced. 
“Busyso late,Miss Vaughan ?” was his 
query. 
“ I have need,” replied the girl, quietly. 
“ 1 leave this place to-morrow.” 
“You are going to leave us?” Oscar 
looked really disturbed. 
\ on and your sister have been very kind, 
Mr. Tiiorne. I know you wish me to stay." 
“And my cousin, Henry, he wishes it? 
You have had no misunderstanding—no 
— difficulty?” lie asked, in undisguised 
alarm. 
The girl cast down her beautiful eyes. 
“Henry is unhappy,” she said, “ and I have 
been the cause; 1 did not know the customs 
of this country.” 
It should bo mentioned that quadroon 
girls in New Orleans,being educated to fill 
•such places as poor Aljda’h, bad no teach¬ 
ing lo show them the impropriety of living 
in that, manner. 
“ ^ on will make Henry more unhappy by 
leaving him," said Thorne. 
A flush lighted up the girl’s face, but 
quickly faded. The gentleman came close 
to her side and took her hand. She drew iL 
away, and looked at him with surprise. 
“Pardon me, Miss Vaughan. I meant 
only to say, Henry cannot live without you.” 
“ It is better lor me to go away—better 
for both.” 
“ You do not wish his cold, proud wife to 
come back!” 
“No; for she could not have loved him 
truly.” 
“ Help him to forget her l” 
“No; I will go to-morrow!” 
“ Auda ! you know not tlm chance you 
are easting away! The laws may punish 
the wife’s desertion by freeing the husband. 
Henry may obtain a divorce; you may 
become his wife!” 
“ The laws would not permit him to marry 
a quadroon,” said the girl. “ He would bo 
thrust, out of society.” 
“ Could you nol. console him for that ? He 
might, take you lo Europe, or to the Northern 
States, or the West 1 ” 
“ All, there, indeed ! ” cried the Creole, her 
e .Y fcs gleaming, her eheeks flushing for tin in¬ 
stant; she continued gravely: “[ always 
knew there was no hope for me — mother¬ 
less and friendless. They do not think a 
“ Slay, my child ; you shall know all my 
reasons for my peculiar ubhorenee of deceit. 
Sit down, both of you.” 
Then the Colonel laid aside the reserve lie 
had maintained on the subject of his past 
life. He spoke of the idolized wife who had 
wedded him with a secret she dared not dis¬ 
close and had kept it front him, and how 
coldness and distrust bad grown out of liis 
knowledge that she had deceived him; her 
want of confidence dev ouring all the tender¬ 
ness ami trust of his mi lure. Bitter, Indeed, 
were Ids feelings towards Helen Meade, 
and never could lie fongiye her encouraging 
Charlotte to conceal’ her trouble. Both 
listeners wept, and Mrs, Gray pleaded with 
her brother to forgive, tine erring. 
“You must i-einemlMT, Myra,” said Col. 
H arris, “ my stern injunction when I com¬ 
mitted Laura to your charge; to teach her 
the strictest regard for truth. A promise 
must lie sacredly kept, though, at the peril 
of life itself.” 
“ Laura herself can tell you how 1 ful¬ 
filled your charge,” replied the lady. 
“ Dearest father, 1 need not be reminded of 
my duty, 1 shall never deceive you.” 
“I require no blind submission. You 
must judge for yourself; and having judged, 
abide by your own decision. Are you con¬ 
vinced that 1 am in the right.?” 
“ 1 am, dear father!” cried Laura, dashing 
away the tears that sprang to her eyes. 
“ Then, I require of you, my daughter, a 
sacred promise of obedience.” 
“ I promise.” 
“ That you will yield to no solicitation to 
III.-THE SOLEMN PROMISE. 
All that Selina could say, however, 
failed to move Aut>a’s resolution, when she 
discovered that Henry no longer eared for 
her presence. He bade lu-r a cold farewell, 
though lie gave orders to have her furnished 
with ample means. One feeling had taken 
complete possession of him; the desire to 
bring hac k Ms wife; and the, determination 
to seek her as soon as be recovered. Ills 
surly manner to tlm quadroon convinced bis 
cousins at last that her stay would do tliern 
no good; their manner to her at once 
changed, and they refused to see her before, 
site left the housa. The servants hated her 
for the sake of their mistress, and rejoiced 
Avhen the carriage carried her to the steam¬ 
boat. 
The physician declared that his patient’s 
brain had suffered by the shock of bis acci¬ 
dent ; and that he might be* occasionally sub¬ 
ject to attacks of delirium, especially if he 
took again to drinking. Change of air and 
scene was imperatively prescribed. Thus 
his relatives were furnished with a plausible 
excuse for assuming the entire direction of 
his affaire. 
Henry Vincent set out, accompanied 
