IF- did nut stop to M ono Hugh Waring, 
as a hotter tempered man might have done, 
lie understood just how Carrie’s sad, Bweet 
face, and lonely seeming life, had touched 
the man’s heart, and so forgave him, even 
for the rashness which would have made 
bad worse. 
As for Carrie herself, he seemed to have 
only now begun to love her at all. He 
opened his eyes and saw what he had been 
doing when lie took into his keeping this 
mere girl, this young creature, whose natu¬ 
ral aliment was love, and then deliberately 
starved her—expected her to lie as self-con¬ 
tained and independent as his mother had 
been. IIow recklessly lie had been throw¬ 
ing away his pearl of great price! But, 
enough to understand Waring’s tastes; but 
intellect was not her specialty. She had lit¬ 
tle originality, and could never make of her 
mind a kingdom. But she was pure and 
sweet, with a native-born conscientiousness 
which would he likely to carry ber safely 
through places which might have been full 
of peril for far stronger women; and a 
i capacity for self-devotion, if she could only 
be loved tenderly enough to call it forth, 
which in itself was Infinite. 
She remembered how sad Waring might 
' be at this hour, and felt herself an unfeeling 
monster because her heart was growing so 
glad, as she bowled along by her husband’s 
side over the pleasant country roads, with 
the sunset light upon the fair, new-mown 
what if it were not altogether too late for J fields, and the clouds opening gates of flame 
him to recover it? She hud loved him once 
—she had said that she could love him even 
now, if he cared again to be her lover. Hid 
he not care? Ills pulses began to throb 
very much as if he were not an old young 
man. If love, tender and patient, could win 
ber back, she should yet be more his own 
than ever, please Heaven. 
He would never pain her, lie resolved, by 
telling her what he had heard. If ever she 
feit near enough to him agaiu to confide in 
him, her confidence should come unforced 
and unsought. But lie would use every 
power which God had given him to make 
her happy. lie would not he too proud to 
knack again at her heart’s door; would any 
tender voice ever bid him enter? 
At last he saw from the covert where lie 
stoo l, with eyes grown used to the darkness, 
Hugh Waring come out and walk rapidly 
down the path, us if trying to escape from 
himself. Then he went into the house, lit 
a light, and looked at the clock. It was 
midnight; now, at last, lie would go up 
stairs to his wife. lie found her lying, with 
white, still face, upon the scarcely whiter 
pillow. He knew that she was not asleep ; 
but lie saw that she wished him to think her 
so, ami, respecting her wish, begot to bed 
silently. 
The next day, making some excuse of just 
received letters, Hugh went away. For one 
moment, just before he left, he managed to 
see Mrs. Ilaunaford alone, though she had 
carefully avoided him all the morning. 
“Do I bid yon good-by forever?” he 
asked, looking into those sad, entreating 
eyes of hers, which had wrought his woe. 
“I think that is best,” she said, gently, 
“ unless you can come back as much my 
husband’s friend ns mine.” 
He bent over her hand, and left on it the 
kiss lie had never dared to press upon her 
lip3. 
“ 1 want to tell you that you have clone 
"right. You have refused mo the only thing 
1 cared for in life. You have scut me out 
into the world a wayfarer, without n hope 
or an interest, but you have done right. Wo 
shall be thankful, both of us, when we come 
to death aud judgment. God bless you, and 
forgive me.” 
He was gone before she could answer him, 
and she heard him saying good-by to her 
husband in the yard. Was she never to see 
that handsome, loving face again in all time? 
— never to hear again that voice which had 
spoken lo her ill words of such strong ten¬ 
derness? Was it her destiny to go on in tlic 
old, cold life, till she was an old, old woman ? 
Why, she might live to be eighty—people did 
sometimes, and she was only eighteen now. 
The laic July was warm and bright out of 
doors, but she felt strangely cold. She goi 
a shawl and wrapped herself in it, and then 
some idle tears, of which she was hardly 
conscious, fell, till they had somehow eased 
l>y a little her woe. 
Mr. Ilaunaford was wise enough to stay 
away from her all the afternoon. Before tea 
she tried to make herself fresh aud bright 
for hint. She would not half do her duly. 
When 1 lie meal was over, -lie saw with 
surprise that her husband’s favorite fast 
horse and light wagon stood in front of the 
gate. 
“ Will you go over to Danbury with me ?” 
lie asked, following the direction of her eves. 
“Can you get away? I thought at this 
time of day you were always so busy.” 
“Yes; but the busiest days are over. The 
hay crop is almost all in. The rest can get 
along with the work without me, and I 
should like to see a little more of my wife, 
now that I have her nil to myself again.” 
She tripped up stairs for her shawl anti 
her turban hat, feeling more light of heart 
than she would have believed, two hours 
ago, could be possible. 
Have I made vou understand aright, I 
wonder, this little woman’s not uncommon 
type of character? If she had had a stronger 
and deeper individuality, she would have 
been less easy to content. Now she asked 
only for enough love. She had a nature 
which needed summer days and sunshine — 
lips ripe for kisses; fond, smiling eyes; cling¬ 
ing fingers. Love, per se, was more to her 
than any particular lover; and, as she had 
said, she had loved her husband first. But 
love she must have, or life to her was utterly 
without hope or savor. She had intellect 
into the celestial kingdom. 
When they reached homo at last, after 
moon and stars had risen, her husband lifted 
her out, and held her a moment In his arms 
while lie kissed her. Site felt herself blush¬ 
ing like a girl. Ah for him, in his strife to 
win her heart anew, there was more of ex¬ 
citement and endeavor than he had ever 
known in the early days when ho was her 
lover. Having felt himself near losing her, 
he began to understand how much keeping 
her was worth his while. 
Sho went Ill-doors quite at fault about 
herself. Whom, then,did she love? Could 
it be that she was so wenlc as to be constant 
only to what was present? Had Hugh War¬ 
ing’s strong tenderness taken such slight 
hold on her light nature that she could be 
happy with another on the very day he had 
gone away sorrowful ? Then she reflected 
that this other was her husband, in whom 
only her happiness ought to he. What then ? 
She would not think out her puzzle. In¬ 
stead, with hope young again in her heart, 
she made her hair smooth, her hair tasteful, 
and went down stairs to sit in the moonlight 
beside the man from whose coldness, only 
last night, she bad been tempted to flee away. 
Do not ask me for a running commentary 
on my story. I show you a woman ns she 
was. If you cannot comprehend her, or ac¬ 
count- for her moods, lie sure that yon are no 
worse off than she was, for she did not at all 
comprehend herself. 
For a few days her husband’s new-born 
devotion made her happy. Then a reaction 
came over her, and she was wretched. The 
better satisfied she became with him, the 
more dissatisfied she was with herself. Not 
a caress did lie. give her that she did not 
think : “ Would lie do this if he knew how 
near 1 had come to loving some one else?” 
She grew at last- to shrink secretly from 
every demonstration of his love, and he, 
watching her keenly, feit that somehow the 
past was raising a barrier between them, 
and wondered sadly if his best endeavors 
were to fail, and this wife of his heart was 
never again to be fully and freely his own. 
As for her, she grew thin and pale- Iler 
bright lips were bright no longer, her eyes 
had dark rings under them. Night after 
night she lay awake and thought, and 
thought, coming always to the same con¬ 
clusion—that she had no right to his love 
until he knew all, and if lie knew all, he 
himself would withdraw it from her. Sim 
was not ready to trust him, because he had 
been so old for his years, so fixed in his 
ways, so unimpassioned, during all the first 
months of their married life, that she could 
not believe it would be in his power either 
to understand or to forgive her. So she 
went on, bearing her burden through slow 
days and silent nights, until the anniversary 
of their wedding-day came round. 
Through the day her uncle and his wife 
were with them, and a few other friends. 
The little festival was of llm husband's plan¬ 
ning, and the wife felt that in barely living 
through it, in hearing and answering con¬ 
gratulations upon her happy fate, she had 
gone to the uttermost limit of her endur¬ 
ance. The guests wondered at this white, 
still wrailh, this unwifelike bride, this woman 
whom a single year seemed to have turned 
to stone. Joseph Ilaunaford’a heart sank 
within him. Was nothing, then, left for him 
but to plant rosemary over the grave of las 
hopes ? How thankful he was when the lust 
guest, was gone. He came then and stood 
beside his wile, and drew a ring from liis 
pocket. 
“ 1 don’t know that you w ill care for it 
now,” lie said ; “but I got this ring to give 
you as a token of a new bridal. If you 
could love me to-day as well as you did one 
year ago, I think I could make you happier, 
lor 1 understand better what love means to 
women.” 
She drew away the hand he had taken. 
A brilliant color flamed in her cheeks, and 
her heart throbbed chokingly; but a cour¬ 
age which was half desperation shone from 
her eyes. She spoke passionately. 
“ You must not put that ring on; you 
must never say one tender, loving word to 
me again, until you know me just as I am.” 
Then, without reserve or concealment — 
told clearly, steadily, unfalteringly — her 
story came. It was the story of her whole 
married file; her disappointment because he 
did not love her enough; her patient, little 
endeavors to please him, which bore no 
fruit; then Hugh Waring’s interest and ten¬ 
derness; and, last of all, his love, and the 
strong temptation it was to her. And then 
she cried, almost with a sob:—•“ It has nearly 
killed me to have you so good and kind as 
you have been lately. Every fond word or 
deed has pierced me like a knife, for I have 
thought how different you w ould lie if you 
knew It all. And the more I loved you the 
more wretched 1 was.” 
He took her close into his arms, in a clasp 
which meant peace, and pardon, and, above 
all, love. He bent over her, and said fondly: 
“Dear, I did know it all, ever since the 
night before Waring left, and it never turned 
me from you for a single hour. I blamed my¬ 
self too much to blame you.” 
She felt, as if her heart, which had been 
breaking with woe before, would burst now 
with rapture. 
“Joe,” she cried, “you are divine!” 
“No, dear, very human; but I love you. 
Arc you ready to wrnar my pledge ?” 
So, in the gathering darkness, lie slipped 
his ring upon her finger, and in the joy of a 
new bridal they two were made one. 
The next day she wrote two lines, which 
she sent, to an address Hugh Waring had 
given ber, the direction of his New York 
bankers: 
“Mr. Waring—I am, and shall always be, 
your faithful friend; but I love my husband.” 
This little messenger was sent after him 
over seas, to find him by Rliine or Rhone, 
wherever his errant steps w-cre wandering. 
Let us hope, when he read it, it cured his 
heartache. 
ON THE WAY. 
SriERinAN, Kansas, I 
700 miles west of the Mississippi Itfvor. j 
We left Ellsworth yesterday morning at 
six. Since the Indian troubles, the trains 
do not run in the night time, although tiie 
Indians rarely do harm in the night, on ac¬ 
count of their superstitions notions. They 
are afraid of the Spirit of Darkness, but are 
not afraid to lay obstructions on the track 
that will do harm iia the night. 
The passengers were few,—a number of 
railroad men from Ohio, and no woman on 
the train but myself. All day long we rode 
over one Interminable plain, utterly devoid 
of bluffs,or trees, or fences, or streams of 
water, and with hardly a human being, ex¬ 
cept at Fori »y-T^*:ikh town we bolted at 
early in the morning. The commanding 
officer had sent down an ambulance for us, 
from the Fort, but we concluded not to stop. 
On the porch in front of one. of the shops sat 
a little young fellow, who, when standing, 
looked tall and strong. “ That is ‘ Wild 
Bill,’ the famous Missouri Indian Ilunler,” 
said one of the men; whereupon the officer 
in charge of the ambulance said lie knew 
him, and would ask him to come to the car, 
if I would like to see him. Of course I 
would, hut “ Wild Bru. ” asked if there were 
any correspondents on the. train, and some 
rascal said “ Yes. two of ’em,” and the 
young Indian burner refused to come. Our 
officer said he was a very peaceable citizen, 
aud had hands and feet like a lady's. At 
that moment I bethought me of the small 
field glass at my side, and at once leveled it 
on him, just as the cars were moving off. 
“Wild Bii.l” saw and comprehended at 
once, and with the utmost nonchalance, 
clasped his hands and stretched them over 
Ids face, as if yawning, which made every¬ 
body in the car laugh heartily. 1 had quite 
a good look at him, nevertheless, and can 
say that he is fair, with a round face, light 
blue eyes, long, light, waving hair, and a 
long,light, silken moustache, and didn’t look 
a bit savage. 
We stopped for dinner at a place called 
Galla, which town consisted of a located 
baggage car, in which we had dinner, and 
as goon a one as one could desire. Il seemed 
a miracle. 1 never tasted better cocoa-nut 
pie than I ate there. There were a few 
dwellings at great intervals on the road, but 
they were adobe houses, built of idocks oi 
earth, and halt under the ground; some 
were wholly so, and called “dug outs.” 
Nothing about them could possibly be at¬ 
tractive, but in just such holes the “ 8tar of 
Empire ” fiuds lodgment on its westward 
way. 
A few soldiers were on the train with 
guns, and all the passengers were armed. If 
a man has a gun about him he seems to 
have an irrepressible itching to shoot some¬ 
thing, and some had the vieiousness to fire 
at the 
Prairie Dops, 
as they are called. These little animals are 
said to belong to the genus rodentia. and to 
live entirely upon vegetable food. They are 
of a sort of yellowish-brown color, and look 
like a squirrel in form, and size and expres¬ 
sion. We had passed them before, but not 
in such numbers. They have villages, or 
settlements, and we were told that their 
burrowed holes extend many feet under 
ground, and lace and interlace like sewers, 
having several entrances. After a rain they 
make haste to build a raised fortification, or 
rim-like ring arouud their holes, to keep out 
the water, and will fight bravely if attacked, 
but may lie tamed, and make charming pets 
for people who have taste in the pettish 
line. Antelopes and wolves went bounding 
over the plains, but the gentlemen did not 
have any real good, downright shooting un¬ 
til we came near a herd of one hundred and 
fifty 
Rnffiiloes. 
These great animals do not exhibit much 
discretion, for they seemed to think the cars 
were a train of buffaloes, and challenged 
j them for a race, a*the buffaloes ran parallel 
with the train, and all the time the men were 
at the windows, firing away at a rapid rate. 
Finally one great, large buffalo was shot, and 
dropped out of the herd, whirling around in 
his pain, and went slowly limping oft', to lie 
down at length and die in the boiling sun, or 
be devoured by the hungry wolves. If there 
is anything under the sweet heavens more 
cruel than is a “civilized, Christian gentle¬ 
man,” may I never see it! We passed sev¬ 
eral herds of buffalo, and the same man 
disposition outcropped eacli time. There 
was a strong breeze blowing, but it was like 
the blast from a furnace, and for two or 
three hours we suffered a sort of purgatorial 
atmosphere. On each side of the track was 
a hedge of sunflowers and a sort of milk 
weed, full of beautiful green and white blos¬ 
soms, while at intervals would occur patches 
of purple verbenas, and a yellow flower look¬ 
ing like coreopsis. To atone for the lack of 
water, the plain in front of us looked contin¬ 
ually like a calm and beautiful lake. This 
mirage is specially grateful to the eye, and 
the peculiarity of the atmosphere here pro¬ 
duces some very curious effects. Nothing 
else was to be seen, save the never-ending, 
dead-looking muskect (buffalo grass.) 
Hull.tin DnifieKticIty* 
“ Those greener looking patches," said 
Xelis, “ are buffalo wallows, and those cir¬ 
cular paths you observe ure made by the 
buffalo cows when their calves are young. ; 
They walk around them to protect them 
from the wolves. And at those times they ; 
herd differently in tlieir journcyings. The 
calves arc ranged in the middle, the cows on 
each side of them, while the paternal buffa¬ 
loes are on the outside all around for a guard 
ami protection. Bo you see, no matter how 
much you women may talk and argue, that 
it is nature itself for the male species to pro¬ 
tect, and the female to be protected," 
stretching his arm over the hack of the sent 
in a very guardian angel style, and assuming 
as protective an expression of countenance 
as an opened umbrella on a rainy day. It 
must make one of these protective sort of 
men feel like an omnibus by the time he lias 
a family to protect. 
We arrived at this one-year-old town a lit¬ 
tle before dark. Being the terminus of the 
railroad, a great deal of business is done i 
here with Santa Fe, and traders from the 
States and Territories further West. Emi- I 
grant wagons, with stores of wool and 
grosser merchandise, are driven in by Mexi¬ 
cans, who are a sort of half breed Indian. | 
So far as intelligence aud respectability go, 
the}' are far beneath the negroes — but w ho 
challenges (heir right to suffrage? 
This town has fifty houses, and is a small 
Chicago in the sense of “ fastness.” The 
hotel where wc are stopping is well ami 
fashionably' furnished, but if one can find 
comfort in it. lie must be very spiritual in¬ 
deed. I eould sleep in a kerosene vault, but 
to have one’s body made a highway for 
bugs enough to make an entomologist, makes 
me slightly wakeful. At nightfall, women 
in loosely flowing dresses parade the street, 
and all night long, until early dawn, the 
atmosphere resounds with hilarious talk and 
laughter. Of all the God-forsaken towns I 
ever was in, this is the forsakenest. If I 
show warmth in my expressions, 1 ought to 
be pardonable, for the thermometer is 105° 
in the shade. 
Western Jewelry. 
Having need of a jeweler, we found one 
next door to the hotel, and entering, were 
surprised at the fine display of jewelry. 
There was much Mexican jewelry, looking- 
like Etruscan gold in forms of crosses. But 
the great rage here at present is for moss 
agates, which are found about here. At 
the buttes, a mile from the town, they abound. 
These buttes are the first peaks that indicate 
the approach of the Rocky Mountains. The 
Jeweler, a German, with a face that might 
have been cast in the same mold as Napo¬ 
leon Bonaparte’s, told us that when 
ordered to make a watch-chain, his customer 
would say, “You know that chain you 
made for Smith ? Well, I want mine like 
it, only' bigger ,” — and such watches and 
chains and rings I never saw. One would 
think they were made for a race of giants. 
Western workmanship in precious metals 
makes up in size what it lacks in delicacy of j 
design. It is architecture. J 
Fort Wallace. 
This morning we went out to Fort Wal¬ 
lace, fifteen miles distant, and w ithin four or 
five miles of the Colorado line. Yv'c went 
with Lieutenant Whttten, whose guests we 
were, in an ambulance with a guard of sol¬ 
diers, drawn by a four-mule team. The 
I ambulance was stacked full of guns, and I 
confess I never before had so many arms 
around me and fell so Comfortable. The 
road was as smooth and level as a barn floor, 
and the country for a hundred miles went 
into Colorado, into whose borders we could 
easily see, is the same unbroken monotony 
of plain. I don’t w onder that when Grant 
ami Sherman went by this route to Denver 
Gen. Sherman got down and bugged the 
first tree they came to. 
The thermometer here often ranges from 
108° to 112°. Water is strongly impregnated 
with alkali, and w ells are sunk to a great 
depth. This country is just the place for 
velocipedes, and there is so much room that 
some “miserablesinner” reckoned the resur¬ 
rection would take place here. Il was the 
opinion of Agassiz when here a year ago 
that all this great plain was formerly a sea, 
or bad been long inundated, and the charac¬ 
ter of the fossils found go far to prove his 
theory. Near here, recently, sixty' feet of 
vertebra? of a fossil sea serpent were found, 
with fifty ribs on each side. The entire 
length would suggest a snake story of no 
ordinary dimensions. Petrified wood is 
found in abundance. 
Snap Plant. 
This subject makes me specially wrathful, 
as one of the men in the ambulance had the 
goodness to get out and obtain a fine plant 
for me, which I intended to make a drawing 
of, or, at. least, carry with me, bid which 
somebody made way with, during my tem¬ 
porary absence, at the Sheridan Hotel. It 
grows plentifully in Colorado, and from its 
leaves is manufactured much of the paper 
used in that State. It looks like a clump of 
coarse grass, each blade being finished at the 
end with a hard, sharp point. Fine, thread¬ 
like tendrils shoot out from the blade-; and 
curl among them. Tin.* blossom was de¬ 
scribed as being a spike of large, white flow¬ 
ers, resembling those of the mandrake. The 
blade, or leaf, is from six to fourteen inches 
in length, (undoubtedly more in some locali¬ 
ties,) half an inch in width, and of liber so 
strong that n man of ordinary strength can¬ 
not break it with his hands. The paper 
made from it is said to be very fine and 
white. The plant derives its name from the 
root, yvhieli is yyhite, and in shape similar to 
that of the beet, and is very long, extending 
into the earth to the depth of six to eight 
feet. Placed in water, il forms a suds like 
soap, and is used in washing. The Mexican 
women use it in washing the most delicate 
silks, which are thereby neither injured nor 
discolored. 
The Indians. 
If anybody lias tender, or sentimental 
ideas concerning “ Lo, the poor Indian,” he 
had better come out here and extend his 
sympathy, if he is also w illing lo part with 
his scalp and his worldly possessions, have 
his house burnt down, and his cattle ami 
homes driven off. The Indians arc of no 
earthly advantage to this country, retarding 
civilization, murdering innocent people, and 
befog most repulsive exponents of filth, 
wretchedness, vice and degradation. True, 
they have been remorselessly driven from 
tlieir hunting grounds, and so have fever and 
ague and other miasmatic influences yielded 
to the inarch of civilization, and wc ought to 
be glad for both. 
Rain. 
When it first rained here, this year, it had 
been fourteen months since rain had fallen. 
Since then, rain has fallen frequently, and 
“ they say ” it is all due to the emigration. 
There is no doubt but the climatic influ¬ 
ences are adapted to the needs of civilization. 
Tlic F.mt. 
I have concluded within this last day not 
to go overland to Denver and thence to 
Cheyenne, as the stages go via Pueblo, and 
il takes sixty hours, I therefore bid Xelis 
good-by, and retrace, w itbin the week, my 
way toward the East. Mintwood. 
-4-*-*- 
A SEA ON FIRE. 
A phenomenon of a most extraordinary 
nature was witnessed during the summer 
just past, by the inhabitants of the borders of 
Caspian Sen. This huge salt lake is dotted 
with numerous islands which produce yearly 
a large quantity of naphtha, and it is no un¬ 
common occurrence for fires to break out in 
the works aud burn for many days before 
they can be extinguished. Early in summer, 
owing to some subterraneous disturbances, 
enormous quantities of this inflammable sub- 
si mice were projected from the naphtha we lls, 
and spread over the entire surface of the 
water, and becoming ignited, notw ithstand- 
ing every precaution, converted the whole 
sea into the semblance of a gigantic flaming 
punch bowl, many thousands of square milea 
in extent. The fire burnt itself out in about 
forty-eight hours, leaving the surface strewed 
with the dead bodies of innumerable fishes. 
