i 
MOORE’S  RURAI-  NEW-YORKER. 
standing  and  -watching  her  movements  as  she 
hovcFcd  over  the  tea-table. 
“  81t  down  then,"  said  sho  laughing,  “  and  Cora 
and  I  will  feed  you  and  the  boys." 
Now,  Holt,  I  stand  In  such  mortal  terror  of  your 
condemnation  that  1  am  going  to  tell  you  the 
cunningness  of  the  temptauon  which  induced  me 
to  break  uiy  plighted  bond  never  to  speak  to  Mrs. 
VfindCTduynck  again.  Imagine  the  lime  and  the 
scene.  Sunset.  A  small  room  luxuriously  fur¬ 
nished  In  pale-green  sUk,  its  French  windows 
opening  wido  upon  the  terrace,  a  charming  mid¬ 
dle  distance  of  nowery  slopes,  the  river  be.voud, 
with  Its  border  of  weeping  willows  now  swaying 
In  the  evening  breeze.  Hut  all  that  was  aecessory ; 
the  riveting  point  of  the  picture  was  this;— A  lady 
fair  and  young  bending  over  the  lea-table.  She 
w-as  dressed  In  what  l  have  heard  Mi-s.  Hunt  call 
Nile  g-reen,  a  most  exquisite  tint;  and  In  this  toi¬ 
lette,  softened  by  delicate  laces  tliat  trimmed  and 
draped  both  waist  and  akin,  ihose  Impalpable 
web-Uke  laces  alono  covered  neck  and  arms.  A 
necklace  of  lusterless  Ttornun  gold,  with  Iniiutncr- 
able  little  lockets  attached  to  It,  encircled  the 
throat  and  on  her  wrists  were  bro,ad  bands  of  the 
same  workmanship,  with  Utile  chains  or  charras 
or  lockets  attaehsd— something  ihat  wont  tinkling 
■was  so  near  her  that  her  dress  touched  my  feet 
and  when  she  turned,  the  silks  and  laces  fluttered 
across  my  knee.  The  music  wound  Into  my  In¬ 
most  soul  and  stole  away  its  st  rength.  I  no  longer 
felt  loveless  and  lonely.  How  could  I,  with  the 
most  beaulllul  woman  in  the  world  beside  me- 
muslc  In  my  ears  whose  suggestions  made  youth 
a  jdeasurc,  exLstence  a  Ihlrst^a  passion  ?  Hut  I 
smiled  at  mjisolf  within  myself— a  drearj-  smile 
full  of  cjuilcism :  still  It  Eliow(>d  me  l  was  not 
wholly  a  slave  in  thrall,  though  ray  blood  run 
quicker  than  usual  In  my  veins  and  my  stoicism 
was  sleeping  somewhere,  lulled  by  unexiiecfA'd 
happiness.  The  clock  struck  ten  at  last,  and  I 
rose.  “.Must  you  go?’ 
sudden  timidity.  I  felt  no  shyness;  In  fact,  I  felt 
an  almost  ungenerous  desire  to  triumph  once  over 
these  elegant  young  men  who  surrounded  her 
with  Incessant  and  graceful  homage.  l  left  my 
jiosltJoD,  took  advantage  of  a  temporary  break  in 
the  cinde  and  edged  my  way  so  close  to  her  that 
I  could  hold  out  my  hand. 
“flood  evening,  Mrs.  Vandcrduynck,"  said  I, 
coolly  meeting  her  pleased  glance.  “  1  have  come 
to  ask  you  for  a  waltz."  She  flushed  and  smiled. 
“  r  liad  kept  this  for  you,"  she  returned ;  “  and 
though  my  book  Is  so  mixed  up  that  I  expect  all 
my  friends  will  cut  me  to-monow,  still  this  is  de¬ 
cidedly  youis,  Mr.  Floyd," 
Hho  nodded  to  the  men  about  her  and  took  my 
arm,  •*  i  was  so  afraid  you  wei'e  not  coming  down 
stairs,”  she  whispered,  her  face  close  to  my  shoul¬ 
der.  “  I  have  been  watching  for  you  for  an  hour.’ 
1  merely  looked  down  at  her.  Words  seemed 
poor. 
“Do  you  really  waltz?”  she  went  on,  “1  sus¬ 
pect  It  was  a  ruse  of  yours  to  send  those  men 
away  from  me," 
“  ludec^l  I  waltz,”  said  1.  “  I  could  never  have 
dared  otherwise  lo  despoil  you,  for  1  know  you 
love  dancing.” 
The  band  commenced  a  sighing,  delicious  strain. 
1  pot  my  arm  about  her  and  we  moved  away  to¬ 
gether.  'J  he  music  changed  all  too  soon  for  me 
audnquadrlUe  followed.  “Let us  go  upon  the 
piazza,"  said  my  partner,  "  for  l  am  warm— so 
wunn.”  We  passed  through  the  open  windows 
and  Joined  the  proinenadcrs  there, 
“How  well  j'ou  waltz  I"  .she  murmured.  “I 
should  never  have  suspected  you  of  such  an  ac- 
compllsliment.” 
“Kven  Vicars  dance,”  1  rejoined,  “but  I  should 
never  have  learned  unleas  a  .Spanish  woman  had 
insisted  on  leaching  me  In  sjilta  of  myself.” 
ShPlauglmd  peculiarly.  “A  .Spanish  woman! 
Ah,  thereby  bangs  a  tale!” 
“  Not  a  romantic  one,  Mrs.  Vandcrduynck.  .some 
two  yeanj  ago  1  was  detained  with  a  sick  friend 
111  the  doctor’s  house  In  Huaimaco  and  the  physi¬ 
cian’s  wife- a  little  ugly  woman  of  foity— was  so 
fond  of  walizing  she  Insisted  on  my  dancing  two 
hours  every  evening  with  her."  l  spoke  coldly.  I 
was  loo  coDHi'lous  of  undue  ocltement  not  10  be 
afraid  of  unloosening  my  tongue ;  but  a  pause  en¬ 
sued  wWch  Was  bud  for  me.  Her  UtUo  hand  was 
OH  my  arm  ;  her  bare  shoulder  touched  my  sleeve. 
.She  looked  up  at  me  and  HniledJ  "Stay  a  mo¬ 
ment,”  sttld  she,  as  we  reached  a  distant,  deserted 
comer  of  the  piazza.  “  1  Jsten  to  the  music  I  Ah, 
how  I  love  w'altz  mmslc!  Those  are  thB’jliuo 
Danube’  waltzes!  is  it  not  a  lovely  ball?  i 
never  enjoyed  one  so  much.  Nothing  mils  me  to- 
night,  ft  is  my  blrth-nlght,  did  you  know  It?” 
SOMEWEBE— Bomewhere  a  hajipy  clime  there  is, 
A  land  Umt  knows  noil  tmavaiUng  woes, 
MTiere  all  the  claebing  eleinenta  of  this 
Discordant  scene  are  hushed  In  deep  repose, 
Somewhero-bomewhere  (ah  me.  that  land  to  win 
Is  some  briKht  realm,  beyond  the  furthest  mail 
Where  trees  of  Knowledge  bear  no  fruit  of  sin. 
And  buds  of  PlcAsnra  blossom  not  in  pain. 
Somewhere — eoniewhcrc  an  end  to  mortal  strife 
Witli  our  immorul  yeamiufrs ;  nevonaore 
The  outer  warrhur  with  the  Inner  life 
Till  both  ar/!  wretched.  Ah,  that  hajipy  shore  ! 
tVhere  shines  for  aye  the  soul’s  refulfcent  sun. 
And  life  is  love,  and  love  and  Joy  are  ime ! 
IJofin  G.  Saxf, 
She  Whispered.  "  We  have 
bail  a  pleasant  evening,  liavc  we  not?” 
“Wc  have  Indeed,"  said  I.  “  Vou  are  used  to 
pleasant  evenings,  but  I— I  never  had  such  .an 
evening  before  in  mj-  life,"  f  spoke  quite  coolly, 
Tlmon;  putnowarmili  into  Liint  spetx^h  of  mine, 
for  there  was  none  Di  It.  I  did  not  go  quite  tlien. 
It  was  so  pleasant  outside  we  strolled  about  the 
grounds  once  more. 
BIBLE  ALBUMS, 
IliBi.E  Albums  Induce  the  young  to  study  their 
Bible,  and  they  make  a  plea.sant  occup.atlon  for 
Invalids.  The  riroccss  of  m.'iklng  the  alhtun  Is  to 
cutout  plcturea  from  books,  new.spapcrH and  mag¬ 
azines,  and,  having  found  Scripture  texts  to  illus¬ 
trate  the  pictures,  paste  them  In  the  album,  put^ 
ting  the  text  Immediately  under  the  Illustration, 
•I'he  one  above  all  others  who  h.ss  done  a  com¬ 
mendable  work  In  popularizing  Bible  Albmns  Is 
Lady  Juliana  M’.alker  of  London,  the  third  great- 
granddaughter  or  William  Penn,  the  (Quaker.  Be¬ 
sides  setting  an  e.xamplo  herself,  she  has  induced 
her  Mends  to  make  these  albums,  and  the  thanks 
of  patients  In  the  London  hOKplLHH  Imve  been  her 
reward.  Many,  on  a  slck-hed,  who  have  no  strength 
or  I  ncllnatlon  to  read  t  he  Bible,  will  look  at  a  Bible 
Album,  and  Uius  a  1e.\t  of  Hcriptnre  may  fasten 
itself  In  the  memory.  l,a(ly  W’alfcer,  in  addition 
toiler  Interest  In  Bible  Albums,  Is  now  engaged 
In  promaung  the  flower  mission  in  London.  One 
calling  at  a  certain  hour  of  the  day  might  And  her 
occupied  in  preparing  hampei-sof  flowers  for  the 
poor,  attaching  to  each  bouquet  a  li’xt  of  Scrip¬ 
ture,  wlilcli  she  calls  n  briuquetrhoidcr.  Lady 
Walker  l.s  anxious  that  Bible  Albums  may  be  in¬ 
troduced  extensively  Into  our  own  country.  For 
this  puiqwsc  slic  has  sent  to  a  lady  in  Brooklyn 
two  albums,  Distcfully  bound  and  beautifully 
ornamented,  the  result  of  much  careful  study. 
Under  some  of  the  pictures  arc  twenty  or  thirty 
sullublo  texts.  The  texts,  in  many  cases,  with 
the  aficoropanylng  Illustrations,  are  better  than 
an  ordinary  sermon.  The  iileiuro  of  a  suffering 
Invalid  Ls  found  over  the  words,  “.My  grace  Is  suf- 
I  TUUR.S0AY  NToiit,  <i  o’clock. 
I  went  to  bed  last  night,  after  writ  ing  the  fore¬ 
going.  In  a  lutuu  It  of  feeling,  and  slept  lltUe.  1 
laughed  at  my  quickened  pulsations  as  I  hiy  there 
In  the  dark  and  gave  myself  a  holiday  from  my 
task-mlstres.s  ICcason  for  twenty-four  hours  of 
pa«.slonate  folly,  'J’hey  arc  not  over  yet;  before 
they  slip  away  I  am  going  lo  look  them  once  more 
In  the  face.  SItUng  by  Kvelyn’s  side  lost  night 
(she  Incidentally  told  me  her  name  was  Kvelyn 
and  In  ardent  dreams  one  does  not  like  to  call  his 
goddess  by  so  long  and  grotesque  a  name  as  Mrs. 
Vanderduynclo.  i  lelt  tlmt  man  Is  made  to  love. 
A  thousand  ardent  Impulses  quickened  me;  they 
did  not  vanish  with  lier  presence,  but  haunted 
my  sleep  and  met  me  when  l  awoke  this  morning. 
Mrs.  11  uut  begged  u  holiday  for  the  boys,  as  her 
ball  came  oil  Ui-nlght,  and  the  d.ay  was  like  a  fcle 
to  tht!m,  as  the  bouse  and  grounds  were  under 
tlie  arrangement  of  workmen  and  decorators. 
Mrs.  Hunt  hud  Insisted  that  1  should  bo  present  at 
the  ball  and  lids  morning  1  lorraally  accepted  tlic 
Invitation, 
and  chiming  among  the  Icacups.  I  was  In  for  It. 
1  leaned  back  In  my  chair  and  watched  her  Insa¬ 
tiably.  I  had  hever  before  begun  to  realize  her 
beauty.  She  treated  me  woll,  my  boy.  I  drank 
inmiuieniblo  cups  of  tea;  I  ate  and  allowed  the 
boys  to  oat  a  vailcty  of  comesTjblcs  which  i  should 
condemn  at  a  school-room  meal.  J  listened  to  her 
talk;  u  was  charming,  tender  and  piquant  in  a 
breath.  As  sho  flow  from  one  to  the  other  of  us 
with  the  cream  Jug  or  the  sugar  basin,  she  re¬ 
minded  me  of  a  bird  with  her  Incessant,  graceful 
motions,  her  air  of  Intense  Interest,  In  liUct,  she 
luvested  each  ti’inihg  service  with  a  fascination 
which  you  require  to  feel  In  order  to  appreciate; 
or,  develop  it  out  of  your  own  moral  conscious¬ 
ness  you  cannot,  you  luckless  old  fellow  1 
t)nce  she  was  drojiplDg  sugar  In  my  tea  when 
he  Urvlo'ivc  of  her  bracelet  chimed  against  my 
siXKm.  “  Tliey  are  so  troublesome,”  she  murmur¬ 
ed,  pulling  her  disengaged  hand  upon  the  chain. 
“  But  then,”  slie  added  laughing,  “  1  suppose  you 
wonder  why  1  wear  them  since  they  arc  so  troub¬ 
lesome.” 
“  No,”  said  I,  “  no.  They  take  my  fancy.”  Our 
eyes  met.  Hers  fell, 
“  Is  this  equal  to  a  lonely  tea  In  the  school¬ 
room?”  she  asked  Boftlj-. 
“  Not  In  one  way.” 
“  In  which  way  7” 
“  I  may  desire  to  take  tea  like  tills  to-morrow' 
night.  Now  my  school-room  teas  Involve  no  after- 
tlioughLs,  no  regrets." 
“There  la  to  be  a  ball  to-morrow  night,”  said 
she,  soberly.  "  I  shall  sleep  all  the  afternoon  in 
order  to  feel  fresh  for  it.” 
“1  realize  that  this  plea.sure  cannot  be  repeat¬ 
ed,”  I  returned;  “In  fact,  therein  lies  pari  of  Its 
charm.” 
“  You  do  not  believe  In  recurring  pleasures.” 
“  'I'hls  Is  a  miracle  and  miracles  do  not  repeat 
themselves.” 
“  You  are  too  clever  for  me,  I  suppose,”  sliesald, 
with  Lor  peculiar,  Indefinable  cliarm  of  sod  eyes 
and  laughing  Ups,  “  for  I  do  not  understand  you. 
For  Instance,  why  did  you  give  up  your  mondog 
rows 
Ilaidng  nothing  to  do,  1  imloosened 
my  boat  from  her  moorings  and  determined  to 
spend  the  day  as  i,hc  fit  seized  me.  Why  should 
I  not  enjoy  a  fool’s  paradise  one  da.v,  since  1  felt 
the  power  to  turn  out  the  In.suigent  passion  to- 
morrew  and  rolmjUte  roa.son  In  her  domain  ? 
I  came  home  toward  dusk 
The  Chinese  lanterns 
were  all  Ughted  as  1  c.aioe  up  from  tJie  river  and 
the  supper  tent  was  a  ralraeJc  of  brilllanje  and 
tasteful  decoration.  I  hastily  galucd  my  own 
room,  rang  for  my  tea.  and  read  a  novel  tor  an 
hoiu*  In  utter  forgetfulnea.s  of  mj-  real  life  and  Its 
requirements.  At  half-past  nine  I  dressed,  Asl 
drew  on  m.v  gloves  I  was  asinine  enough  to  be 
glad  that  the  figure  In  my  glass  was  correct  In 
outUne  and  style ;  and  with  the  fire  born  of  happy 
thoughis  lighting  up  my  face,  i  was  even  good 
looking.  1  was  glad,  as  l  say.  The  youth  I  hful 
believed  forever  gone  hod  returned  with  its  en¬ 
chanting  demons  to  tempt  me  and  1  wanted  to  be 
no  withered  Faust,  hut  a  Faust  young  and  avf/o- 
mir.  It  neared  half-past  ten  when  I  descended 
the  stairs.  The  band  was  playing  delirious  waltzes 
tlint  seemed  tJie  language  of  my  own  paaslonate 
longing.  1  found  Mrs.  Hunt  In  the  little  parlor  off 
the  long  drau-lng-room, 
“J  consider  myself  quite  honored,”  said  she 
graciously.  “  Had  I  the  lime  1  would  ask  you  to 
walk  through  the  rooms  with  me,  but  the  people 
are  not  yet  all  here.  You  must  speak  to  Mrs,  v  an- 
derduynck.  She  Is  In  the  other  room  dancing,  1 
suppose.” 
1  walked  through  tho  crowded  halls  and  entered 
the  drawing-room.  I  am  not  used  to  such  assem¬ 
blages  and  for  a  quarter  hour  tlie  foamy  sea  of 
gauzy  dresses,  white  shouldere,  floating  curls,  cav¬ 
aliers  In  dress  suits  and  with  courtly  sudles  on 
their  moustached  faces,  dowagers  in  yellow  luce 
ancullamonds,  surged  about  me  without  my  gain¬ 
ing  a  Bufilclenily  clear  vision  to  see  what  1  was 
seeking.  Half  a  dozen  genUeman  moved  on  from 
the  punchbowl  In  the  hall  and  grouped  together 
In  the  doorway,  carelessly  rattling  on. 
“  Decatur  la  no  end  of  spoons  on  hei-,”  .said  one, 
In  that  clear  and  concise  English  which  distin¬ 
guishes  fashionable  young  men. 
“  That’s  so,”  remarked  another,  “and  he  Is  tak¬ 
ing  his  Innings  to-ulght,  apparently.  I  declare 
It’s  too  bad  to  see  how  she  plays  with  him.” 
“Not  a  bit  of  It,”  remarked  a  third.  "  It’s  a  fair 
fight.  She  knows  that  lie  Is  a  notorious  fortune- 
hunter  and  she  has  a  perfect  right  to  despise  such 
devotion.  She’s  a  good  little  creature  at  heart.” 
“She’s  got  on  the  pearls  te-nlght!”  Interposed 
the  first  speaker.  “Jove,  how  they  shlnel  loxik 
at  VVDithrop  1  What  fools  she  makes  oi  men !” 
“Nature  was  beforehand  with  her  In  Wlnlhrop's 
case.  It’s  my  turn  soon.  Tom,  l  heard  about  her 
being  sweet  on  Mrs.  Hunt’s  tutor.  Is  he  here  to- 
“Yes,  I  am  twenty-three  years  old.  Some¬ 
times  I  feel  old— very  old— but  to-night  I  feel 
young,  with  a  long  life  of  happiness  before  me. 
Look  at  the  moonlight !  And  do  you  smeU  the 
tuberoses  1  Is  It  not  beautiful  ?”  She  had  uttered 
iJe.'so  words  In  u  low  whispering  voice  which  LhrUl- 
pd  me  as  It  caressed  my  ear.  l  could  not  speak, 
for  If  I  spoke  l  should  have  told  her  what  1  had  no 
wish  to  teU  her.  My  silence  apparently  surprised 
her.  “I  enuuot  understand  you  to-nlghl," said 
she.  “sometimes  you  seem  to  he  my  friend,  but 
now,  when  1  am  so  hajipy,  you  appear  so  indlff  er- 
onte-so  cold." 
“  Indifferent,  cold,”  1  echoed,  and  laughed  a  bit¬ 
ter  laugh.  She  di-ew  back  from  me,  slightly  loos¬ 
ening  her  band  from  my  arm  and  regai-dlrig  me 
wondeilugly.  As  she  moved,  by  chance  her  fln- 
gera  touched  mine.  I  had  loo  thoroughly  resigned 
myself  to  passion’s  sway  for  the  hmt  twenty-four 
hours  not  to  be  Its  slave  now,  I  caught  her  hand 
before  It  could  leave  mine  and  pres-sed  It  to  my 
breast ;  then  covered  Hand  the  delicate,  bracelet- 
ed  wrist  and  rounding  arm,  with  kisses,  l  coufcs.s 
my  folly.  It  was  a  barbareus  action ;  but  she 
should  have  let  rned  before  this  wbat  such  a  man 
AS  I  Is  made  of.  Her  drawing-room  ailmlreiii— 
men  who  have  drained  passion  to  the  dregs—may 
languidly  palter  with  Buoli  tciniitallons.  l  could 
not.  The  moonlight  gleamed  on  the  pearly  shoul- 
dere  and  arms.  I  remembered  our  waltz.  She 
called  me  cold  when  l  was  ardently  alive  to  each 
perfecUon  of  that  exquisite  face  and  form,  and  a 
second  Prometheus,  1  determined  to  dare  heaven’s 
vengeance  for  such  sacred  fire.  She  was  quite 
helpless  and  trembled  violently. 
“  Do  not  accuse  me  of  coldness  for.  where  you 
are  concerned,  I  tun  just  so  cold  and  indifferent  1” 
1  muttered,  releasing  her  at  last.  “  I  avIU  take 
you  back  to  the  ihawIrig-ro<jm.  It  la  not  safe  for 
you  to  be  out  here  alone  with  a  madman,”  Her 
sweet  race  was  bent  down  upon  her  bosom ;  she 
looked  as  shy  as  a  girl  of  sixteen.  Hud  she  found 
courage,  I  think  she  would  have  spoken ;  but  her 
Ups  were  too  tremulous  to  form  the  words  which  I 
saw  flui.toriTig  there.  I  sighed.  I  must  have  kissed 
her  bps  had  l  stood  there  longer,  Holt,  for  there 
was  llmld  hut  eloquent  passion  in  her  whole  mien. 
But  1  wok  the  mUe  hand,  put  It  oji  ray  arm  and 
led  her  back  alouj 
T  Had  they  become  Insufferable  afUT  Cora 
and  I  robbed  them  of  soUtude  7” 
“  Do  not  think  It  for  a  moment,"  I  cried,  Impete 
uously ;  but  then,  remembering  how  my  tongue 
might  betray  me,  I  remained  silent.  Tho  servants 
removi'd  iJie  tea-table,  the  children  went  back  to 
their  croquet  and  we  were  lea  alone.  The  sun 
had  gone  down,  tho  full  moon  hung  in  the  east. 
It  was  so  sUlI  that,  as  we  stood  togother  In  the 
open  window,  wo  could  hear  Roaring  Brook  three 
miles  away.  l  had  nothing  to  say  but  much  to 
feel.  She  was  simple  and  uhembarraased  in  her 
manner  and  talked  quietly  about  Cora  and  my 
boys.  “  Let  us  go  down  to  the  rlvor  bank,”  said 
she,  finally ;  “and  then  when  we  come  hack!  will 
send  Cora  to  bed  and  If  you  like  I  will  sing  to  you." 
1  assented.  She  carelessly  gathered  up  her 
trailing  skirts  and  walked  down  the  path  with  her 
band  upon  my  arm,  I  had  randy  been  on  the 
grotinds  at  that  hour  and  their  beauty  astonished 
me.  I  said  so. 
“  What  do  you  generally  occupy  youi-self  with 
in  the  evenings  7”  she  asked.  “  1  often  see  a  light 
in  t  he  school-room  till  past  midnight.” 
"  I  wilto  a  great  deal.” 
“  Books  V  1  know  you  have  WTltten  one  book. 
1  have  read  It  since  I  came  here.” 
“That  was  praiseworthy  of  you,  for  you  must 
have  found  II  verj’  dull.  1  am  ivrlt  lng  a  book,  but 
I  do  lliUe  about  It  at  present,  I  write  just  now 
that  1  may  make  money." 
“For  what?”  she  questioned  timidly.  “Are 
you  going  to  maro'?”  She  blushed  furiously, 
IlolU  as  she  asked  this. 
“Oh,  no,”  I  replied  with  a  half  laugh ;  “  1  shall 
probably  never  marry.  I  am  anxious  to  lay  by 
two  thousand  dollai's  or  so,  that  I  may  devote 
some  time  to  my  book  la  foreign  cities.  I  cannot 
complete  It  here.” 
She  looked  a  little  weaiT  and  we  returned.  She 
called  Cora,  kissed  her  good-night  and  sent  her  off 
with  the  nui’se.  The  boys  went  docucly  to  the 
school-room  for  tliclr  hour  of  studj'  before  bed¬ 
time  and  Mrs.  Vandcrduynck  and  I  stood  together 
again  In  the  window.  The  raoonllghtllt  the  rose- 
boi-dered  terrace  now,  and  though  the  west  was 
still  golden,  day  was  ovej*.  “Shall  wo  have 
lights?”  she  asked. 
“No,”  I  sulil  opening  tho  piano ;  "  lights  would 
spoU  tilts.  Come  and  sing." 
She  sang  for  an  hour.  I  resigned  myself  to  the 
spell  of  her  voice— not  alone  to  thatslrenlc  power, 
but  to  the  pleasm  e  of  being  close  beside  her.  I 
Bishop  Whipple  gives  an  account  of  some  tab¬ 
leaux  given  by  a  tube  of  Western  Indians  for  his 
amusement.  They  were  tnteuded  to  show  three 
phases  of  an  Indian's  existence— the  wild,  the 
clvlUzed  aud  the  CbrisManIzcd.  The  curtain  rose 
first  on  a  pai’ty  of  aborigines,  In  a  dark  forest, 
nearly  nudo-thls  was  the  native  state;  tlie  sec¬ 
ond  showed  to  Ills  dellglited  eyes  the  same  actors, 
dreased  as  scml-savages,  nirned  wltli  rifles  and 
pistols,  and  grossly  intoxicated.  The  third  was 
composed  entirely  of  women,  who  sat  meekly  at¬ 
tired  in  black  alpaca  dresses.  They  were  evan 
gellzed. 
ig  the  jiluzzas  to  tho  parlors, 
where  I  left  her  standing  under  fJie  arch  where  I 
first  found  her.  That  was  an  hour  and  a  half  ago, 
my  friend.  The  band  Is  playing  the  “  Blue  Dan¬ 
ube”  waltzes  again  down  stairs.— [Concluded  In 
next  No, 
BUDDAH’S  COMMANDMENTS, 
To  hold  truth  for  untruth  Is  always  a  loss,  '•ven 
If  the  matter  Immediately  in  question  is  tilvlal. 
The  prejudice  may  arise  from  some  unpertelved 
defect  In  ourselves ;  and  the  letting  In  of  the  new 
light  may  be  a  st  ep  in  the  course  of  sidMmprove- 
mont.  But,  fiuxher,  such  a  misapprehension  may 
possibly  hinder  the  acceptance  of  eo'''‘o  ulterior 
truth,  wldcli  Is  of  real  imiiortance.  Thus  the  dili¬ 
gent  festering  of  a  candid  habit  of  mind,  even  In 
tilfles,  is  a  matter  of  greater  moment  than  appeal  s 
at  flret  sight.— Dean  llowson. 
Bv  gentleness, 'overcome  anger;  by  good, evil; 
by  liberality,  greed ;  by  openness  and  truth,  dis¬ 
sembling  and  falsehood. 
Bpeak  the  truth ;  yield  not  to  anger ;  give,  when 
asked,  of  the  little  thou  hast;  by  these  three  steps 
thou  Shalt  go  near  the  gods. 
A  man  slothful,  saying  many  good  things  but 
not  doing  them,  is  Uke  a  herdsman  counting  the 
klne  of  others,  but  owning  none. 
