AUG. 27 
670 
“ You are wrong.” she replied, In a low tone, 
bnt which was quickly recovering firmness, “ I 
have a very dear frierd I” 
•< one, Lucv, you may lmaelne so, hut. who can 
be to friend to you It they permit you to take such 
a step as this t" 
“ I do It without their permission—or my own 
freewill! Cnu«ln Fred you must not—shall not 
stay me! You have no right, 1" 
" Yea: that or a coupln who loves you, Lucy! 
Who would havp to harm come to you 1" he an¬ 
swered. oladng bla hand on her arm. “ Surely 
that is Rornethlns'.’’ 
At his touch a violent trembling seized the girl; 
tears starred to her eyes. He did not know how 
sweet it would have been to yield to his cousinly 
authority in all e.naes bnt tots. 
>■ r repeat, cousin Fred,” she murmured, softly, 
“imust go i No ham win come to me, be as¬ 
sumed! T mavuot, tell you more—It’s better per¬ 
haps, not but believe that!” 
She ma le a movement from him, but he took 
1 ' ' " ». 
••.. y. you may not, r he said, firmly; “ if you 
resist, mv request, I must summon those whose 
authority-” 
“ Cousin Fred.” she interrupted, with quiet de¬ 
cision. “ no authority in this house can stay me ! 
Tf T would yield to any. It would be to youn?—but 
l cannot [ There Is one who has greater need of 
me than any here—and to that one T go I” 
“ Then, Lucy, T cro with you! I will see this 
person mvaelf, unless you tell me who It la, and 
why you gol” 
Tho girl paused: then said: 
•• Cousin Fred If T tell yon. will you then let me 
go ? If T tell you that I have a right to go—that 
power, no tow. can prevent me!" 
•* Tell me 5” he responded. 
Then. I go—to nurse, to cherish, and support— 
my mother I” 
>• Your mother 1” cried Fred Beaufort, starting 
back. “ She Is dead. Lucy!” 
« so uncle Brand made us believe, but It Is not 
true! T have seen her 1 She Is poor—she la 111— 
that ts why I am going to her. My mother surely 
has first claim to my love and to my help !” 
“ Your mother 1” 
The voice that, spoke came out of the darkness. 
It was that of Mr Brand, and In a moment, white 
and stern, he had advanced lDto the moonlight. 
For a second Lucy drew back In alarm, then quiet¬ 
ly, firmly, she stood before him. 
11 You have seen her ?” he proceeded: “ she has 
dared to break her word, and see you 1” 
<• uncle, she is 111; I fear, dying l A craving 
came upm her to see me—her only child!” 
"Jtiough.” broke In Mr. Brand; “she has 
broken ner word, and has a right to boar the pen¬ 
alty. She knew well what It was; your banish¬ 
ment; from my family. But you are old enough 
now to judge for yourself. You must renounce 
her—or us. Choose!” 
“ Uncle, I have chosen. I am going to her; she 
is walling h r me now,” was the calm reply, 
»< go, tut*, and never put foot beneath this 
roof nor address word to me again t” exclaimed 
Mr. Brand. 
And Lucy went; Fred Beaufort accompanied 
her through the moonlit grounds, amazed, pained, 
yet conscious of a feeling akin to happiness at his 
heart. 
CHAPTER III. 
BKTTEB LOVE THAK ALL. 
Hau not Mr. Brand been so Indignantly angry 
no doubt he would have seen the advisability, 
even for appearance sake, of requesting Lucy to 
quit his house at a more reasonable hour. As It 
happened he did not, and great was the amaze¬ 
ment o£ the household next morning to find her 
gone. 
Be announced that a relation of hers was 111, 
and she had been called away late In haste. 
“A relation of Lucy's, papa?” had ejaculated 
Linda, “ Why, who could that be ?” 
“ A relation on her mother's side,” was the curt 
l espoese. “ The less you Inquire the better.” 
* ( mat’s the case, papa, dear,” remarked 
Lmoa, ** 1 should not dream of making Inquiries.” 
** You are right.” 
Fred Beaufort said nothing, and hts cousin be¬ 
lieved he was no better informed than herself, 
They had both known that their uncle—handsome 
gay Harry Brand—had married foolishly, and had 
died Bbortly after, but that was all they knew, 
save that the wife had soon foUowed the husband. 
This, rather, was what they had been told. Fred 
Beaufort, however, now knew this Information 
had been false. 
Alter what had occurred the previous evening 
he fancied that his uncle would give him some 
explanation; but, as Mr. Brand betrayed no such 
lure ti lion, bla nephew did not seek the confidence. 
His good spirits had returned, also Linda’s temper, 
l d to the latter the day passed delightedly. She 
hardly missed Lucy. 
The next morning, however, among his letters 
Fred Beaufort said was one requesting hts imme¬ 
diate return in reference to business regarding his 
position. Of course he must gu. 
Of course. So arter luncheon he made his adleux 
»u nls old, happy way, and was driven to the sta- 
■ leaving disappointment behind. 
,, a tad tully made up her mind he would 
L ve pKposed to her before he left; and she was 
lr, i aud aud annoyed, for cousin Fred's future 
pi a ..ibed to be a brilliant one. Mr. Brand had 
i.la ■ nopea that the cousinshlp had grown into 
warmer feelings. Still, It was not too late, unless 
some one else won his heart. 
W en Fred Beaufort reached his destination 
takt, g a slip of paper from his pocket, he read It. 
The. , he nailed a cabman, and drove down to Mrs. 
K' ViObVi. 
y ou’re please to walk up,” called the grubby 
maid of all-work over the balusters. 
Tnc you.,g man, complying, was ushered Into a 
dingy buung-room, furnished after the fashion of 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
cheap lodging-houses By the window, pale and 
wan, sat Mrs. Melville; while coming forward to 
meet him was Lncy, her sweet beauty “making 
sunshine In the shady place.” 
“ Oh l cousin Fred.” she said, " this ts kind l” 
“ Kind. Lucy 1 Why, did I not Bay I would call 
as soon as I came to town ? If 1 have hurried my 
coming." he went on. In his bright, geDlal way, 
“ It was because T wanted to learn all about It, for 
UDcle Brand didn’t seem likely to tell me.” 
“ Ah i Mr. Beaufort, look round at this miser¬ 
able room.” said the elder lady,” and think what 
this dear child has renounced for me I” 
“ Mamma you muBt not talk so 1” 
“ No. Indeed, aunt. Love is better than all, you 
know "—he felt, Lucy look quickly at, him. hut he 
kept his countenance—“ and. by-the way, I am 
your nephew Fred. I forgot I had not,been Intro¬ 
duced. ro we will have no more of Mr. Beaufort, 
Now, aunt will you tell me all about this family 
secret of the Brands ?” 
“ You are very good,” smtl ed the lady : “ I 
would tell you anything, though in the eDd you 
may hold your unole was right.” 
“ I don’t think that possible,” glancing at Lucy 
seated at her mother’s feet, holding her wasted 
hand. 
“ Then I will make the recital as brief as I aui 
able. When young, I was like Lucy, and not older 
than she, when my father, who was a scholar 
and a gentleman, but poor, died, leaving me ut¬ 
terly destitute. I strove to make a livelihood 
in the usual branches ladies follow, but I was 
friendless, unknown! Failure met me every where. 
Illness—that of despair—seized me. and I was al¬ 
most starving, when a kind landlady told me she 
knew she could get me a plaae la the showrooms 
of a milliner. My father had been a gentleman; 
my pride rose a little; hut I was without bread. 
I accepted the engagement, it was while there, 
that T met Henry Brand; he loved—he married 
me. For some months we kept our marriage secret, 
hut your uncle Brand discovered it, acquainted his 
father, who, In his wrath, disinherited my Hus¬ 
band. Six months later Harry was drowned by 
accident, and his father, stUDg possibly by remorse, 
died from the shock, hls will unaltered. 
“Then your Uncle Brand found me out, and 
offered, If I would change my name and never 
own connection with hls family Lucy should be 
brought up Uke a lady, and he would endow her 
well. Only 1 must promtse never to see her; never 
to let her know of my existence. It was a hard 
request; but when I knew the suffering I had en¬ 
dured, and might again, I shuddered at the Idea 
of my darling suffdilDg thus. 1 knew the sorrow 
would be only mine. She was too young to miss 
me, and would be reared a lady, as Henry Brand’s 
daughter should. I let her go, though It nearly 
broke my heart!” 
“ Dear mother,” murmered Lucy, kissing fondly 
the white slender hand. “ Oh. I owe uncle Brand 
nothing. How d ared he part mother and child ?” 
“riush, hush, darling; your cons in-” 
“ Perfectly agrees with Lucy, my dear aunt,” 
said Fred Beaufort. "It was an unmanly and un¬ 
natural act. But go on.” 
*• There la little more to tell, I caned myself Mrs. 
Mellvtlle, and once more worked for my living, l 
might have done pretty well, but having no heart, 
I had no energy. My life was a blank. My only 
pleasure was to try to picture my Lucy grown, and 
form little pictures about her. Then my health 
began to tall, and were It not a sin, 1 could have 
said l was glad.” 
Again Lucy kissed the slender fingers. 
“As l grew worse, however, a craving came tbat 
1 must see Lucy before 1 died, and 1 started tor 
Silvervllle. I waylaid her; I managed to get Into 
conversation. I thought I was strong, but I was 
weak. 1 betrayed who I was-and—and—you 
know the rest. Heaven forgive me if I did wrong I' 
“ Wrong l Oh, mamma, mamma i” cried Lucy 
throwing herself on her bosom, “ that will not be 
Heaven's decree nor mine. I am here to nurse 
you, and soon you will be strong again.” 
Mrs Henry Brand smiled faintly, then said : 
“ We are very inhospitable, Lucy. Your cousin 
needs some refreshment. Go and see to the tea, 
my love.” 
Fred Beaufort would have demurred, but hls 
aunt made him a quick, imploring sign, and no 
sooner were they alone than she said; 
“ Air. Beaufort,you seem Lucy’s friend—oh, pray 
be one to her when I am gone. I dare not tell her, 
but 1 have not a month to live!" 
“Her frleDd, aunt!" he answered, earnestly. 
“ Ah, If she would let me he that, and more! If 
Lucy will not be my wife, 1 shall never marry 1” 
“la this true?” cried the Blck lady, her eyes 
brighter lng. 
" Indeed yes. But Lucy does not, I fear, care—” 
“ Not care i Ask her,” and she pointed to the Inner 
room. 
Hls heart beating, Fred Beaufort took the hint. 
He entered, and round Lucy preparing tea. 
“Dear cousin,” he said, “ aunt is very 111, and la 
anxious about your luture. Now, for such invalids 
the best medicine Is a happy mind. I want to make 
her happy while Bhe Is with us; so I’ll say now 
what 1 have wanted to Bay so often, only I thought 
you never cared for me.” 
** Not cared for you, ooustn Fred 7" said Lucy. 
“ Then If you do, I want you to be my dear, dear 
wife.” 
“ I your wire I Oh, Fred,” gasped Lucy, “no—no 
—no. Think. What am I ? Nobody, and penni¬ 
less ; and you— 
“ Are of your opinion,” he smiled, drawing her, 
blushing, bewildered, to him. “ Better love than 
all. Yes, I’ll make a confession, but not now, Lucy, 
for I have something else to say. We shall be 
married before I go abroad, so that 1 shall have a 
right to take care or aunt, who will then be my 
mother as well as yours.” 
A week after Linda Brand read wltn bitterest 
feelings of mortification the announcement of the 
marriage of Frederic Beaufort to hls cousin Lucy, 
daughter of the late Henry Brand. She tore the 
paper In her rage, and that evening accepted Cap¬ 
tain Kills—“ Better love than all” not being her 
motto.” 
ALL 80KTS OF ITEMS. 
The Philadelphia Ledger says that Wong Tze 
Fung, an elderly Chinaman, recently saw a live 
turtle lytDg uncomfortably on Its back In front of 
a restaurant, and having purchased It for fifteen 
dollars, had It conveyed to a wharf and thrown 
overboard. He Is a man after Mr. Bergh’s own 
heart. 
Socrates said that there are two sciences which 
every man ought to learn- first, the science of 
speech, and second, the more difficult one of 
silence. 
Finding taul with everything Is not a good way 
to make home hapny. 
A curious discovery Is reported from Spain. 
While engaged In working the lead mines In the 
Province of Segovia, seventy miles northwest of 
Madrid, the miners found an entrance into an Im¬ 
mense cavern in which they found upon an argil¬ 
laceous deposit, and in the midst of stalagmites, 
500 skeletons of men and women. Ten well-shaped 
and perfect skulls have been obtained, besides 
chipped stone and quartz implements and frag¬ 
ments of rude pottery. 
Profanity never did any man the least good. No 
man la richer, happier, or wiser for it. it recom¬ 
mends no one to society ; It Is disgusting to re¬ 
fined people, and abominable to the good. 
Dew is more abundant on cloudy nights, since 
the heat which is radiated by the earth does not 
return to it. 
Harsh counsels have no effect; they are like 
hammers, which are always repulsed by the anvil. 
Some or the largest mirrors ever manufactured 
were recently made for the Grand Opera House at 
Paris. They measured 4r> bv sa feet, their weight 
being from i.aoo to l,enn pounds each. 
Lire is divided into three terms: that which was, 
which is, and which win he. Ler. ns learn from the 
past to profit by the present, and from the present 
to live better for the future. 
Dean Stanley’s last words : “ l have labored 
amidst many frailties and much weakness to make 
Westminster Abbey the grand center of religious 
and national life in a truly liberal spirit.” 
The potato is quite an Important and useful 
Item In France. Much of the so-called cognac 
Imported Into England from France Is distilled 
from the potato, while In Poland, the manufac¬ 
ture of spirits from this esculent is an extensive 
trade. 
Dr. Franklin recommends a young man. in the 
choice of a wife to select from a burch, giving sa 
a reason tbat, where there are many daughters, 
they improve each other, and from emulation ac¬ 
quire more accomplishments, and know more, and 
do more, than a single child spoiled by paternal 
fondness. 
During a recent earthquake at Stockton, cal., 
a most curious circumstance which occurred was 
the stoppage of all of the pendulum clocks hang¬ 
ing against eastern walls, showing that the vibra¬ 
tion was from North to South. < locks hanging 
against other walls were not effected. 
The noble silent men scattered nere and there 
whom no morning newspaper makes mention of! 
They are the salt of tho earth. A country that 
has none or few of these la In a bad way; a forest 
that has no roots, all turned Into leaves and 
boughs, which must wither and be no forest.— 
Carlyle. 
Dr. Maclaren, of Edinburgh, Scotland, states 
that the types of Insanity have changed with 
modern times. For Instance, acute delirious 
mania Is now comparatively rare, but mental en- 
feebletnent attended with paralysis la becoming 
more and more common, and is the result, or the 
overwork and worry of the struggle for existence 
at the present day. 
A nobleman of me court of France, taking 
leave of Louis Xiv., who was sending him as 
ambassador to another sovereign, the monarch 
said to him : “ The chief direction I have to give 
to you is to pursue a course of conduct entirely 
different from that of your predecessor.” “ Sire," 
replied the new ambassador, “ 1 trust that I shall 
act so that your majesty will not have to give 
similar Instructions to my successor,” 
The earliest notice of the use of cotton In man¬ 
ufacture Is by Herodotus, four centuries and a 
half before the Christian ora. In hls day the cot¬ 
ton shrub, In some of its larger varieties probably, 
was utilized by the natives of Southern A9la, He 
sp eaks of a certain plant of India, bearing, instead 
of fruit, fleeces more delicate and beautiful than 
those of sheep, and of which the people of that 
country made their garments. Alexander's gen¬ 
erals also brought back similar accounts or the 
cotton tree and Its woundrous products; and 
Theophrastus describes its culture from exact 1 u- 
fjrmatlon. 
The fasblen of writing on black-bordered paper 
18 about a hundred and thirty years old, and oornea 
to ue Horn Italy, in “Mann and Manners at the 
Court or Florence, 1740 178«," Maun wrltos to Aal- 
pole, on January 35to, lias, on paper with a nar¬ 
row mournlug border, as follows: J believe you 
never saw anything like it before; here every¬ 
body uses It. but myself. I begged a sheet for this 
occasion only, ana another to keep as a curiosity. 
Madame Koyale was very unpollte to die JUBt at 
the beginning of carnival, to deprive us of all 
our diversions.” Madame Koyale was the mother 
of the Grand Duke of Tuscany. 
Adornments for African potentates are an item 
of some little importance In the Birmingham jew¬ 
elry trade, which embraces both real and sham 
Jewelry. A firm of what are known as “fioral 
jewelers” has Just completed a crown for King 
Eyo, of Greek Town, Africa, it is a copy or that 
of William the oonqueior. The cap la of blue 
velvet, the binding of ermine, and the circle and 
spikes are of seml-doad gold, decorated with 
thirty- two real Btonea, consisting of amethyst, 
topaz, crystal and emerald. Two scepters have 
also been supplied—one of gold and the other of 
silver—for Duke Ephraim Fyarooa IX., of Duke 
'l own. Old Calabar. These enBlgns of royalty are 
five feet, six Inches long, one being surmounted 
by a Maltese cross another by a dove. They are 
made to unscrew at the end for the Insertion of a 
peacock’s feather, which la used in some portion 
of the state ceremonies of Old calabar. 
MAGAZINES FOR AUGUST. 
St. Nichols.— Contents: Frontispiece. “A 
Brown-study"; A Brown study. Poem; From Sandy 
nook to the Lightship; Milkweed Pbtyrhlngs; 
Under a Fly Wheel; The Tuneful Otd Woman. 
Jingle. (Illustrated!; Cemps. A Game; A Rus¬ 
sian Harvest Scene. Picture : Slumber Song ; 
The True Adventures of an Angora Cat; How 
Miss JenKlD8“Got. out of tt”; The Elf and the 
Spider. A Fable in Verse; Phaeton Rogers. Chap¬ 
ters XVII and XVIII; Mark the Dwarf; Proud 
Prince Cham. Poem; Cathie’s Story; Flat Boat¬ 
ing for Boys; Builders by the Sea. Verses; “A 
Boy on the Place;” A Strange Foundling; Little 
Maid Margery. Verses: In Nalure’s Wonder¬ 
lands. Chapter X; How we Belled the Rat 
and What Came of it; The Treasure Box of Eng¬ 
lish Literature; dalttllo Boys Chapters IX. X, 
XL, and XII; Dame Toad. Verses; For Very Lit¬ 
tle Folk; Jack In the Pulpit; The Letter Box: 
The Riddle Box. 
Milk-Wbrd Plavthings.— Almost everybody, 
at some time or other, has made the acquaintance 
of the milkweed or slikweed, as I have heard It 
called. 
A reason for each of these names Is very appar¬ 
ent. If you break a Btcm. a sticky subsiance like 
milk runs from it, which will stain your clotoes. 
You must have seen them many a time. The silk 
radiates In every direction from the central seed, 
making a gauzy, filmy sphere, with a small dark 
center. The seeds cluster about the opening of 
the pod, until the wind ptckB them out and carries 
them abroad, but If you pick seme of the pods 
when greeu, and put them in a vase where they 
are not disturbed, the pod will open part way, 
like an oyster shell, and the fine siken threads, 
folded and packed so cksely in the center, will 
fly apart and get out, In some way, so that after 
a while the pod will be covered with a cloud of 
white. This Is very beautiful, ana, If It stat d3 in 
a corner out of the way of sudden breezes, It. will 
he likely to remain so all Winter. You now see 
Why it la called sllk-weed. My sister and I 
yearly collected several of these Bllk-weeda for 
our play-house by the stone-wall, where we kept 
our hits of broken cblna, and transformed the pods 
Into domestic animats. Often, a pod would he 
well shaped for a chicken, requiring only leath¬ 
ers to be* luck into the pointed toll, and toe 9tem 
to he broken off short at the other end and sharp¬ 
ened to represent the hill. Two sticks put In 
served for legs, so that it would re3t on these and 
on toe point of the tall. We not only transformed 
these pods Into poultry hut also Into quadrupeds of 
all sorts. Pul In four legs, a pair of norns, and a 
tall, and you have your cow, and one, too, which 
really gives milk 1 Leave off toe horns, take a 
a bit of your own hair to use for a tall, and you 
have a home.— Emma M. Davis, In St, Nicholas. 
Scribner's Monthly —Contents: The sailor’s 
Wife; The Isle of Peace; The Daughter or Henry 
sage Hlttenhouse—1; “No Man’s Land; By the 
sea In Normandy; To My Dog •‘•Blanco;" lee- 
Yachtlng on the Hudson: Poetry In America, first 
article; Our Circle; Hongs of Nature; Robert 
Fulton’s Experiments m SubmariueGuunery ; The 
People’s Problem—II., A People’s Government; 
Peter the Great as Ruler and Reformer—X.; Queen 
Tltanla—I; The River Inn; A Rainy Day with 
Uncle Remus—III ; The Village convict; Topics 
of toe Time; Communications; Home and Society 
Culture and Progress; The World's Work ; Bric-a 
Brae. 
Purchasable Health.—I t Is often said, when 
a rich man ales, that all the money In toe world 
cannot purchase the prolongation of life It is 
often Bald, too, when a ricn man’s health breaks- 
down, that money will not purchase health. Ab 
general propositions, however, both these state¬ 
ments are unsound. When expended at tue right 
time and In the right way, money will purchase 
health and the prolongation of life. Money will not 
purchase peaches out of season, but money will 
purchase peaches when they are In the market. 
Money will not purchase health out of season, out 
health la to he had for money, under the proper 
conditions. When a machine laactually worn-out, 
It is beyond the reach or repairs. Nothing will do 
tout complete renewal. So, when a man Is worn- 
out, money will not renew him, but MiFre are al¬ 
ways times in his life wnen, toy the proper expen¬ 
diture of money and of time, which is its equiva¬ 
lent, he can buy health and tue prolongation of 
life. 
A man crowds hls powers through a series of 
years of excessive labor, and, Borne day, he drops 
wllh paralysis, and from that day forward he be¬ 
comes a powerless child, to he led kindly and care¬ 
fully to toe grave. The Increase of this disease la 
undoubtedly the result of the Increase of uu wisely 
conducted labor. Money oau do nothing for 1C 
whea It befalls a man, but It Can do everything to 
prevent It. “ Nervous prostration ” hasbeoome a 
too Umlllar phrase tn these latter years. Money 
cannot restore a shattered nervous system, but, 
properly expended, ut the proper time, It will pre¬ 
vent It, which to a great deal better. 
There are two plans of life, by either of which 
money will buy health and prolorg a comfortable 
existence. Tho first Is, the setting aside of apart 
of every day tor recreation. So far asthiacaD be 
done It ought to be done, bu' there seem to he some 
peculiarities tn our American life that forbid it. 
Competition in business is cruelly shaip, ai d most: 
men feel obliged to devote themselves to It, when 
they ora in it at all, lrom morning until night. Th« 
