interest upon his friend’s face quite mystified I father !" 
him. “With whom?” was the inquiry, 
which would have been simply curious, but 
for the added, — “Excuse the question; I 
have a good motive in asking it.” Still more 
mystified, Flint answered. At mention of 
’Squire Enbell’s name, the General looked 
searchingly into Flint’s face, and seemed 
moved by some now emotion. Then lie 
passed his hand over his forehead, as if tax¬ 
ing his memory, and echoed, — “ Exsell — 
Enbell —I think 1 once knew the man. Al¬ 
low me to go with you and sec himand so 
his going could hardly be hindered. 
They went over the uneven road in com¬ 
parative silence. Flint was too much 
occupied with ins own recollections and 
hopes to give much heed to his companion's 
puzzling manner, or to note the strange look 
bent upon him from time to time, in which 
were mingled doubt, questioning and a half- 
defined joy. 
After an hour of quick driving they passed 
through the woods, rounded the big pond, 
surmounted the hill, and just before them 
was the ’Squire’s old residence. How natu¬ 
ral the scene looked, to this, “ the ’Squire’s 
boy!” The old red house was unchanged; 
the barns opposite were only grown a shade 
browner; the brook went laughing away 
down through the meadow just as it did ten 
years ngone. Over yonder, to the right a 
little, was the little burying ground, where 
slept the mother lie barely remembered as a 
pale-faced woman lying in her eoflin; a 
mile further on, but shut in by the orchard, 
was a handsome farm house, and— Alice. 
Down here to the left nestled the small ham¬ 
let where he used to attend church with his 
puritanic foster-parents. 
They drove up in front of the ohl place, 
and Flint arranged to see the ’Squire first, 
alone. This most disagreeable part of his 
day’s errand, - flu* personal meeting with 
the rigid old gentleman,—he desired through 
with as soon as possible. 
Happing at the old side door, lie was 
admitted by Mrs. Enhei.l, in spotless ging¬ 
ham and well starched cap, as prim and 
puritanic in appearance as ever. The ’Squire 
was in, and came forward to meet him in 
tin* same cold, distant way lie recalled so 
distinctly, only a little awed by the regiment¬ 
als, perhaps. “ The ’Squire’s boy,” seeing 
his identity was not at. ouce recognized, 1 
thought to sound him a little. 1 
“ My name is Flint,” lie said. “ 1 came 
to bring you some intelligence of a young 1 
man who once lived with you.” 1 
“ Ned Edwards?” a faint gleam of in- 1 
terest. lighted up the impassive man’s lace as 1 
he pronounced the name. 1 
“ The same.” t 
“ 1 should like to learn some good of him. * 
He left me in a very abrupt way; but I may f 
have been somewhat exacting with him, 1 
perhaps,” the ’Squire remarked, i 1 
“ He serves in my regiment,” the Colonel < 
said, “and sends you this in payment of a 
debt he owes you,” handing him a sealed e 
packet. t 
“ 1 le owes me nothing, sir,” was the quick s 
reply, “ except, some apology for running h 
away from me.” f< 
“ Which he would gladly make. But that, h 
Surely, is not all ?” said Flint, so earnestly w 
that both the ’Squire and his wife seemed b 
startled. “ He wrote your name, sir, with- it 
out authority, and desires to refund what he c< 
unlawfully acquired by so doing.” it 
“That debt was paid live years ago,” the n 
old man replied. “I never laid it up agin 
him, but was awfully afeard if the lad began to 
by such evil courses he would end on the y< 
gallows.” _ 
“ Haul ’ came the astonished rejoinder, at 
“ who paid it ? ” 
tions, in his own mind, and that while 
Flint was the mystified party now, and discoursing of battle scenes and camp expe- 
he looked from one to the other, not know¬ 
ing what to say. 
“ General I Iappler — ’Squire Enbell — 
what does he mean ?” speaking to the one, 
of the other, while, in fact, making a formal 
introduction of both. 
The General sprang out and took his hand, 
while tears ran down his cheeks. “ He 
means just this, ray boy,” he answered, chok¬ 
ingly, " that I was once the very unworthy 
husband of your more than worthy mother, 
and that you arc the one link binding me to 
an angel! Since yesterday a faint hope has 
become a verity, and that it is so, let us 
thank God I” 
And ’Squire Ensell, with deeper feeling 
than he was wont to infuse Into the word, 
reverently said,— 
“ Amen 
j CHAPTER VI. 
They drove over to the little burying 
* ground,— father and son. There, by the 
grave of her whose memory had purified 
5 fbe one, and whose angelic influence had 
tenderly shielded the other, they knelt, 
’ with thankfulness upon their lips, and in 
, their hearts, and talked of all this strange 
1 outworking of Providence. 
Each had his story to tell. Each had 
made over his identity, so to speak, and the 
full reasons for so doing must be given to 
1 the other. 
The father’s narration was a sad one, 
indeed, for it was touched throughout with 
a sad memory. At heart a noble, sensitive 
man, drink had run riot overall his early 
manhood. Himself a wreck, Ins wife — once 
his idol — a white-robed, silent rebuke, he 
bod gone Westward, as went his son, fifteen 
years later, to work out a new manliness. 
He had not found it an easy task, and the 
years had gone by, one after the other 
bearing its wearisome burden. Hut that 
silent, yet e ver voiceful rebuke, never was 
out of Ids mind, and he was sober hence¬ 
forth. Sobriety, and, finally, a deep, abiding 
Christian principle in his heart, regenerated 
him. What ho might have been, with her 
love to guide him, was ever a lament; what 
he yet might be, with prayer and patience, 
was a sweet prophecy. If the prophecy 
never was quite fulfilled, it came as near 
fulfillment as prophecies ever do. 
Failure to find his son had been a. bard 
blow, again ; and he had gone back to his 
lonely home saddened afresh. Since then 
he had labored more than ever for others, 
thus doing much for himself. When the re¬ 
bellion was inaugurated he threw Jill his best 
manhood into service for the right. He 
fought like a patriot and a Christian. Ami 
as part of his reward lie now sat beside his 
missing hoy,—lluding him in one known and 
respected, who might have been a vagabond 
once, but was now a true man. 
The son had less to tell, but as he re¬ 
counted fully his experience he saw clearer 
than ever how narrowly he had come to a 
shipwreck, complete and terrible, and felt in 
his heart, more deeply than at any time be¬ 
fore, how some one of God’s holy angels 
had watched over him a mill ad never left him 
wholly to himself, through all these years of 
bad and good fortune. And reverently rest¬ 
ing his hand on the low mound, he solemnly 
consecrated his life, whether it should have i 
iu it all ho wished for or no, to all good and ' 
noble purposes, j 
There he left the gray-haired man, to modi- .< 
late by the headstone he had reared five ( 
years agonc, and which bore only the words ] 
—“Mary, my Angel,” and walked away 1 
across the fields. t 
He was sweetly hopeful now—he, once so i 
rience, lie was living over again those days 
made bright, with a love given and a love 
returned. It was far from strange that he 
forgot himself, at length, for a moment, and 
said,— 
“I missed your loving words so often, 
Alice ! ” 
He was recalled to himself, at once. The 
sudden pallor in her face,—the bewildered 
gaze she bent upon him,—rendered explana¬ 
tion imperative. 
“ Have you forgotten an afternoon years 
ago, in the old berry patch, when you made 
a lonely boy’s heart very glad ? ” 
He smiled, a faint, sad smile, as he asked 
the question, and took a step forward nearer 
her. There was no hope in his tone. She 
might remember this, but the memory would 
avail him nothing. Her voice trembled, as 
she tried to answer, and she only looked up 
in his face, appealingly. 
“ You do remember it.; but you do not re¬ 
member the boy." He turned away his face 
as be spoke. “Pardou me, Alice, I would 
not have intruded myself upon your recol¬ 
lection but for momentary forgetfulness. 1 
will go away, now.” 
“ When I ask you to stay?” 
“ Never, then,” lie answered, earnest^, 
taking hope again. 
And she, looking up yet once more into 
his honest face, and reading there a true, 
manly love, never questioning his long 
silence, softly echoed,— 
“ Never, t hen ! ” 
octal topics. 
MODERN BARBARISM. 
BY A LICUJUS. 
It appears that Americans are divided 
into two great classes,- the Enlightened and 
the Barbarous. And flu* sooner the latter 
class becomes extinct , the better for America. 
The Enlightened are not necessarily those of 
wealth and ease. Culture does not always 
follow in the footsteps of prosperity, nor do 
the best thoughts always come to those who 
iiave the most leisure for them. 
Here, in an Ohio village, dwells a family 
of the latter class. Mr. Barbarous is a 
farmer. Back of his small house spread his 
large acres; the boundary of his domain is 
a long way (loin the village ; but, like most 
uncivilized sovereigns, he holds court in a 
hut. The subjects of Mr. Barbarous are 
ruled despotically by him. Now, in the 
beginning, I beg you to understand that 1 
am not caviling against, the right of a man 
to govern his family; t hat, I am only attempt¬ 
ing to show how, in an unregenerate mind, 
this duty becomes perverted. Only the 
princes of Barbary dare presume upon bis 
clemency; and they, by virtue of their mas¬ 
culine prerogative, become, at an early age, 
Ipsser magistrates over the feminine popula¬ 
tion. 
As to poor Mrs. Barbarous, she is merely 
the chief female; she stands as much in fear 
of her husband as if her wretched little 
harem were in Constantinople instead of a 
pretty Ohio village. She was a merry, hand¬ 
some girl, but domestic thunder storms have 
long since curdled the cream of her com¬ 
plexion. That in her daughter Julia she 
sees herself reproduced, is only a partial 
comfort. “ Life is an aggravation,” whim¬ 
pers poor Mi’s. Barbarous. She has given 
her youth to her daughter and her happiness 
to her husband, she has nothing left but 
personal identity and cares. Alas for the 
- stream of dark water began to trickle. John, 
j the crown prince, threw his cap at Julia’s 
- bead, and as lie had just snatched it from a 
s puddle, this greeting did not enhance the 
■ beauty of his sister’s face or temper. 
; “I wish there were no such things as 
I boys, she cried, fiercely, “ Mother, just look 
at them tracking over the sitting-room ear- 
, pet." 
“Boys,” moaned Mrs. Barbarous, fol- 
! lowing their progress with her broom, “ do 
stay out of here. A body might clean, and 
clean, and clean to the end of her days, and 
see no good of it. It’s only labor thrown 
away. You wouldn’t care if your poor 
mother had to work her very lingers off. 
Get out of here!” voice and wrath rising. 
“ O no, mother,” wheedled Joey, patron¬ 
izingly, “let us stay in here. We w on’t do 
nothin’,” in pledge of which he turned a 
somerset, and landed horizontally with his 
feet on the window curtains. 
Mrs. Barbarous ceased to wield the brush, 
and turned its handle to violent use. The 
boys fled,laughing before her weary hand. 
“1 w'onder what sif tin’ rooms is made for,” 
grow led Joey, crowding little Sam aside to 
get the corner lie wanted. 
“ For human beings, not for boys,” said 
Julia, spitefully. “Come, now, and help 
me lift, out the table.” 
“ Get some human bein’ to help you,” re¬ 
torted Joey. 
“ John, help me lift this table out,” cried 
impatient Julia. 
“O, do it yourself, you’re big and ugly 
enough,” said the refined John, turning an 
encouraging eye on his sister. 
Julia seized the heavy body, and in the 
strength of anger lifted it to the middle of 
the floor, not, however, without wrenching 
her woman's back painfully. She laid the 
table for supper with a hand that set every 
knife, cup and plate spinning. 
“Father,” pleaded despairing Airs. Bar¬ 
barous, standing with the tea-pot in her 
hands, like some propitiating devotee about 
to offer incense before her god, spit in 
the fire-place. The floor’ll soon look as if it 
hadn’t been cleaned at all.” 
But father, with his hands in his pockets 
and his back to Hie fire-place, was absorbed 
in some superior and far-reaching medita¬ 
tion. As Ids mind rose higher, his jets fell 
timber. And they, bearing some quality 
from their source, became absorbed also, to 
the detriment of the lamented floor. 
A scuffle begun among the boys, loud 
enough to rouse even him from the pure 
state of reflection in which he had been ex¬ 
isting. He started at. them, as one would 
disperse a group of curs; cuffed some, shook 
others, and restored quiet, without any in¬ 
quiry that might, have insured justice. Per- , 
haps such administration was then best 
suited to the governed, hut there had been a 
time when lessons in forbearance and broth¬ 
erly love had been more salutary. 
“ Supper is ready,” proclaimed the feeble 1 
chief woman: “ Now* come right, along ancl i 
eat, and don’t keep the table setting till ] 
shifted whatever toil they could upon female 
shoulders, and spent their time in the nobler 
occupation of warfare. 
Mrs. Barbarous had no need lo exhort 
flic* three who had waited, for scarcely had 
a breach in the attacking party been made, 
than they rushed like reinforcements to the 
onslaught. It ig true Ida, with some latent 
love of cleanliness, stopped to wash the 
plate her mother had called her to. 
“ 8ho! Ide’s too proud to eat on anybody 
else’s plate,” said Joky, contemptously, help¬ 
ing himself to one-half what was left on the 
table. 
“I ain’t proud,” flashed Ida, and T’ll just 
thank you, sir, to leave me a little of that 
sauce!” 
“ O, you’ll have a clean plate, and that’ll 
he enough for you.” 
So they went on wrangling; and the sun 
set upon this wretched family, leaving it as 
wretched as he had found it when he rose. 
Poor Julia ascended front the w eary day 
to her newly-garnished chamber, but to no 
sweet solitude. Ida shared the room, and 
just across tlu* hall were six boys bickering. 
She took off her dress, and wrapping a shawl 
around her, knelt down by the window. 
Moonlight had burnished the landscape. 
Over the way was Marion Christian's 
pleasant home. Marion’s fat her was only a 
poor merchant. Julia’s father was a rich 
farmer, yet Julia envied Marion. The 
linear distance between them was only a nar¬ 
row street; the social or moral distance 
seemed wide as t lie sky. Marion was a 
breathing pleasure, an intellectual divinity; 
Julia wa° a pretty, ignorant , toiling creature. 
O how she ached beside that window' for 
something better than she had known. 
“ Why was Marion Christian blessed with 
cultured parents and courteous brothers,— 
why bad her outlines of womanly character 
been so filled and beautified,—while little 
Julia, cowering on the old sill, bad only the 
•men folks’ for her near kindred (no father 
and brother, not hing but ‘ men folks,’) and 
was so dwarfed and driven in upon herself? 
She would rather teach, as Marion Chris¬ 
tian was obliged to do, than to live this 
daily life, though she knew she should have 
ever such a great dow ry at marriage.” Mar¬ 
riage ! There was the way of escape ! “ I 
will marry,” decided Julia, “ I’ll do any¬ 
thing to get. out of this !” 
“Come to bed,” whined Ida, sleepily; 
“ Juley, come to bed!” 
“ I’ll do it,” muttered Julia, throwing her 
shawl aside, “ I’ll marry the first man that 
asks me!” 
night.” 
The barbaric ruler and his scions, having 
nothing else to do, and finding the request to 
coincide exactly with their inclination, at 
once complied. The evening board was 
visibly ready to receive the blessing about to 
be invoked on it. Table-cloths in Barbary 
were reserved for t hose august beings known 
as “ company.” With regard to napkins 
the uninstruetod princes would have paused 
in doubt whether to employ them as neck¬ 
cloths or handkerchiefs. The table was not 
large enough for the family. There was 
generally some scrambling among 1 he candi¬ 
dates for places. “Best fellow first,” w r a9 
John’s motto, upon which generous basis he 
always secured a place for himself. The 
of Barbary grumbled at their toil. To them 
April was another word for spring-cleaning, 
— and w/utf spring-cleaning Barbary did re¬ 
quire ! While the woods were budding and 
green things were shooting up, and the life 
8am, and little Ida. These adjourned to the 
fire-place, where mutual consolations were 
exchanged of a truly barbaric order. It 
looked contradictory—it really did— to see 
Mi*. Barbarous bow his head and call on 
the name of God.—God, the Enlightener. Il 
would have seemed more appropriate had he 
“poured libation,” or addressed the sun, or 
woman’s quick intuition, said to herself,— in you was glad it had been created, they attacked his food without any ceremonial, nounce it absolutely certain that the man and 
“ There’s ray soldier!” were carrying out the contents of their little* But we know there are some chiefs in Africa the woman do not take radically the same* 
1 hen, though she was twenty-seven, and uncomfortable house, and washing off the who profess the Christian religion, with view of the matter. Yet 1 have some eonli- 
old enough to he sensible,she began to think stains made by their growing lords. And about as much propriety as they wear Euro- donee in suggesting by way of provisional 
she ought to be indignant with him for pre- when it was done, the ragged carpets tacked pean garments. Barbarism is content with opinion on the point, that the man sees the 
111 *,- ^ ^ * O ’ ” • -- J 1 ' V ' ^ 'UWU **. II l II |7IUV.VJ II 44V* V 41 ■ HUUMI VVAl OVIM livll J ir U 
lappuu. ( , u insisiu on my taking lull re- with a light Step he went to learn il, having air blowing between his lips. But the women exchanged of a truly barbaric order. It 
H" 1 * or w,i nt the youth appropriated. a parent, lie might not hope for one even of Barbary grumbled at their toil. To them looked contradictory—il really did—to see 
My father I ejaculated the surprised nearer and dearer. April was another word for spring-cleaning, Mi*. Barbarous bow his head and call on 
oittcer, my lather! I had never any idea Alice Brant saw a sunburned, com- —and wluit spring-cleaning Barbary did re- the name of God,—God, the Enlightener. It 
in J,. 111101 " li3 .! c1 o iiig! in turn sur- manding looking man coming up the walk, quire! While the woods were budding and would have seemed more appropriate had he 
piiMug ie north, couple he was addressing, with eagles on his shoulders, and with a green things were shooting up, and the life “poured libation,” or addressed the sun, or 
womans t°ngue was quickest to re- woman's quick intuition, said to herself,— in you was glad it had been created, they attacked his food without any ceremonial. 
’ 1 here’s my soldier 1” were carrying out the contents of their little But wc know there are some chiefs in Africa 
nd are you Ned Edwards, theu?” she Then, though she was twenty-seven, and uncomfortable house, and washing off the who profess the Christian religion, with 
s " 1 J queried. old enough to be sensible,she began to think stains made by their growing lords. And about as much propriety as they wear Enro- 
" as ’ <)IKt > madam.. I have made a she ought to be indignant with him for pre- when it was done, the ragged carpets tacked poan garments. Barbarism is content with 
icttei name tor rnyseli, since,” he almost suming to come to see her, and so she passed down again, the beds newly filled, the build- husks. 
tt uni l ingly replied ; “ better, because more into the parlor with small show of genuine ing renovated, the April gladness yet entered The preliminary being over,— which no 
inspected. Hut tell me ot my father.” cordiality. He read no warm affection in not that household. Gladness could not one had heeded except by restraining his 
can till you little more,” the ’Squire her eyes; there was only friendly sympathy abide there at any season of the year. hands a moment —supper was devoured, 
s.m , a tide more moved, now. “lie had in her manner. She was a self-possessed On the afternoon that the spring-cleaning Show me sheep clipping clover, or sweet- 
ii ounce, accumulated considerable prop- woman, far too true to herself to fall in love was completed, Mr. Barbarous hastened mouthed cows chewing the cud, but ask me 
cr a , an wished to claim bis boy. lie lived with an unknown soldier on account of his from the field to escape a shower, and all not to look on the uncivilized human when 
somewhere in the West. He remained here letters, he concluded; and 'twas likely she the princes of Barhaty followed. I do not he feeds. Mrs. Barbarous facilitated the 
nit a short lime, and having no trace of onlj r counted her early affection for him as a give the head of the family his Eastern ap- cramming by frequent exhortations to “ hur- 
eiLil ° u * 3 > m ent aw ay. foolish school-girl fancy. So he would go pellation, because lie is of a republican iy; there was work enough to do yet.” 
ey talked a few moments longer, Squire away and forget. country; his sons are yet in the realms of Work enough there was, but not for the 
nsell so emiig strangely, for him, and Having determined this, his voice sad- childhood where every boy is a prince; but, princes, Julia rose from the table to gather 
I know that I have drawn an ugly pie- 
S loud tore, but the* ffesh-and-blood reality is much 
e pure uglier. And this reality has its twin, yea, 
een ex many counterparts, In numerous other 
would villages. Such a family must multiply nils- 
, shook ery in the world. Julia, poor, starving 
my in- child, tv ill sit, like a spider watching flies, to 
■ I >er ' catch a husband. If love come to her, all 
ii best well; if not, she will recklessly take the 
been a hand 1 hat, is offered, and go to new misery 
broth- from that continually pressing her at home. 
Each son will In time become thy head of a 
feeble household, and raise up other sons to a her¬ 
ns and itngc of brut felines*. The complexion of the 
ag till period will, of course, give some of its hue 
to each generation, but the degraded nature 
having will pass along its fleshly channel, 
uost. to If Mr. Barbarous had made himself a 
on, at man instead of a draft animal,—if he had seen 
i was more capacity for expansion in the young eyes 
iout to of bis children than in the circumference of 
arbary a dollar,—if he had paid as much attention 
mown to cultivating his soul nshehndto cultivating 
plans his farm, — what a different bequest would 
mused he now be able to make lo the Republic! 
neck- -- 
as not THE IDEAL LOVE. 
a was -- 
candi- The old question of strength of love, 
’ was as between man and woman, will always 
isis he have its two side*. There are so many 
The points of difference between masculine and 
Joey, feminine regard—small points, some may 
to the say, yet peculiarly strong, withal,—that the 
were question, as a whole, may never be fully set- 
r. It tied. Touching this matter,a writer in Len¬ 
to see don Society thus remarks: 
ill on Is there any point wherein the ideal of love 
ier. Il as conceived bj r a man differs from that of a 
ad he woman ? i pretend not to be able to answer 
in, or the question decisively, nor would I pro¬ 
I can tell you little more,” the ’Squire her eyes; there was only friendly sympathy abide there at any season of the year, 
s.ui , a tide mon* moved, now. “lie had in her manner. She was a self-possessed On the afternoon that the spring-c 
reformed, accumulated considerable prop- woman, far too true to herself to fall in love was completed, Mr. Barbarous h 
erty, and wished to claim bis hoy. lie lived with an unknown soldier on account of his from the field to escape a shower 
somewhere in the West. He remained here letters, he concluded; and ’twas likely she 
but a short lime, and having no trace of only countedlier early affection for him as a 
your whereabouts, went away.” foolish school-girl fancy. So he would go 
They talked a few moments longer, 'Squire away and forget. 
Ensell softening strangely, for him, and Having determined this, his voice sad- 
On the afternoon that the spring-cleaning 
was completed, Air. Barbarous hastened 
from the field to escape a shower, and all 
the princes of Barbary followed, I do not 
give the head of the family Ins Eastern ap¬ 
pellation, because he is of a republican 
country; his sons are yet in the realms of 
view of the matter. Yet 1 have some confi¬ 
dence in suggesting by way of provisional 
opinion on the point, that the man sees the 
climax of love’s bliss in the triumph, the con¬ 
quest, the crowning moment when lit* clasps 
his bride; whereas Hie woman’s deepest 
thought settles on the idea of wifehood, the 
abiding joy of married life. The supreme 
wish ol the man is to hav e, not a wife, hut a 
bride ; the supreme wish of the woman is to 
have, not a bridegroom, but a husband. As 
a general rule, the ardor of the woman 
increases after marriage, or concentrates itself 
into a quiet but intense and steady-burning 
flame of wifely devotion; the most fiery 
° Ior *ttm» and Having determined tins, his voice sad- childhood where every boy is a prince; but, princes, Julia rose from the table to gather flame of wifely devotion; the most fiery 
ten wa ved down towards the road. At doned a trifle, and a hungry look crept into matured, they also will become citizens, her milk pails. Her strong young brothers, lovers almost invariably contrive to step 
ie gate t e Squire stopped, and looked at his face. Seeing which, Alice relented a crowned with the Mr. which makes every following the aboriginal example, always composedly enough as husbands. 
