daylight of a few hours of existence, gave unmis¬ 
takable warning of a coining snow-storm. Mrs. 
Vincent, who abhorred gloom of every kind, took 
the opportunity to pull down the blinds and light 
up the chandelier at an unusually early hour. 
“Now, Leonard," said the charming little wo¬ 
man, as she sat down on a low stool at her hus¬ 
band’s feet and crossed her hands over his knees, 
“do pray, put aside that book and let me have a 
little of your society.” 
Leonard had been somewhat, silent all day, an 
unusual thing for him, and had burled himself 
since morning In the depths of some metaphysical 
novel. Doubtless, as Mrs. Vincent had suggested, 
the weather had something to do with It. Ho 
now throw aside the book, stretched himself and 
yawned somewhat drearily.” 
“ Well, Min,” ho replied, “ to toll you the truth, 
I feel rather out of sorts.” 
Then, as If a sudden thought hod Btruck him, 
ho stood up and took up the newspaper that lay 
on the floor beside him. Turningtothe advertise¬ 
ments of amusements he read half aloud: 
“Globe Theater; ' Last night of The Wild Man 
of the Prairie,' -bosh! Variety Theater; ‘Jem 
Thompson's MarvelouBImpersonations; MIss Wil¬ 
liams with her favorite song ’—pshaw! Theater 
Cojnhiue; 4 Opera Pouffe '—all, that's better. ‘ La 
FJUe do Madame Angot.’ What do you say, Min¬ 
nie ? Let us have an evening at the. theater." 
Minnie, who had a New Lngland girl's delight 
In the theater, put on a demure look, but didn’t 
seem unfavorable. 
“ Well, Leopard, It certainly Is some time since 
we have been, and—’’ 
“Very well, then,” broke in her husband, 
“Let’s get supper over, i’ll .lust go and order a 
hack.” 
In due time arrangements were completed, the 
ck arrived, and before long the pair were com- 
rtably seated In front of the stage, wishing for 
e curtain to rise. In the meantime Minnie bo- 
e the unconscious focus of many eye-glasses, 
w as usually the case when she appeared In 
lie. 
eonard had gradually been regaining his even 
Dow of spirits, and by the time that the orchestra 
commenced with the well-known, delightful airs, 
ho was quite ready to enjoy to Its full the pleasure 
of the entertainment. All went, splendidly. The 
prlma donna was a noted “star,” and entranced 
the house with her singing. Minnie was totally 
absorbed In the performance, when suddenly she 
felt her husband start. At the same time she 
noticed a disturbance on Hie stage. What was 
the matter ? Oh! it, was nothing, said tho people 
next to her ; only one of the chorus hud fainted. 
Look, they were carrying her off the stage. Min¬ 
nie looked at Leonard, and saw a pale, anxious 
look on ids face that she had never before Been 
there. Thinking noi.hlog ot i.ho slight confusion 
before her, she laid her hand upou her husband’s 
aim. 
" What is the matter with you, Leonard,” she 
whispered. “ Don’t you reel well ?" 
“Nothing, nothing,” he replied, hastily. “It 
was only for the moment. And yet—would you 
mind it wo left the theater? ” 
“ Let, us go at once. Give me my shawl." 
They rose from their places and left the thea¬ 
ter, the performance going on as If nothing had 
happened to disturb it.. When they were outside, 
Vincent seemed to alter his noted. 
“ Minnie,” he said, Ids voice t rembling slightly, 
“would you mlild going home alone? it was 
foolish to disturb your enjoyment. I feel all 
right now, but It Is hardly wort h while going 
hack, and 1 think I will Like the opportunity of 
going to see a friend In town whom 1 have often 
promised to call upon.” 
At first she remonstrated, but at length, as 
Leonard began to show signs of Irritation, she 
pressed him no further, and left him to return 
home. 
Hitherto the threatened snow-storm had held 
back, but now white spccka began to dot the air, 
falling steadily. Leonard showed no intention of 
going to visit his frh ml, but paced hurriedly up 
aud down In front ot the theater, repeatedly look¬ 
ing at his watch, Old memories were at. work 
within his mind, and his knit brows and anxious 
look Indicated the working ot some strong emo¬ 
tion. At length ten o’clock struck, and the people 
began to swarm out of the theater. Hastily 
walking down a narrow, gloomy street that led 
alongside the house, lie stopped before the stage 
door, as If Walt) ng for some one. Shortly the door 
opened, and, one after another, muffled forms ap¬ 
peared. lie peered mio their faces as they 
passed out, but seemed to recognize none, till at 
length a tall figure came down the steps, and, 
after hesitat ing a moment, walked down the dark 
street. Leonard could not see the face, but the 
w alk of the figure he could not mistake. With 
light, quick steps on the new-fallen snow ho fol¬ 
lowed her, a nd when they had come to a spot 
slightly illuminated by a street lamp, he stepped 
up quite close to her and touched her. she 
turned around hurriedly, gazed eagerly in his 
face, then threw her aims around his neck, and 
sobbed convulsl vely. 
“ J saw you, I knew you at. oneo 1 It was wrong. 
It was unkind of you. But now I have found you 
again T can forgive everything.” 
Her lueoln rent sentences worn spoken as quick¬ 
ly as her sobs would permit, and till she had 
ceased Leonard could not Speak n word. Then he 
gently removed her aims from Ids neck, and as 
she gazed eagerly at him, she saw his face was 
ghastly pale. He spoke slowly, and as with diffi- 
culty. 
“ Laura, you must not think of me. We must 
not see each other again. She you saw is my 
wife.” 
lie paused. The light of half-reproach, half-Joy 
tha t had shone from her eyes was suddenly chang¬ 
ed Into a wild glare of madness. She strove to 
speak, but could not. Leonard, terrified at her 
look, went on In humble tones. 
“ Listen to me, Laura. It Is not my fault. They 
told me you were—dead.” 
Bhe caught, boll) ills hands lightly In her own 
and whispered, rather than Spoke: 
“ It. does not matt er If docs not matter. They 
were right.; J was dead.” 
Then with a powerful effort she seemed to gain 
command over herself und spoke calmly, but re¬ 
proachfully: “ And you would leave me at once 
without talking over old t imes with me ? I have 
so much to tell you. Come, at least you will come 
to ray house and sit, one hour with me and bilk." 
He could not resist her voice, but he answered 
nothing. ,sho turned quickly round and led Lhe 
way, he following her wit h dltfleulty. The enow 
was now descending heavily and the stem-wind 
began to whistle through the narrow street and 
heap up the whlledrirtaagalnst.thp houses. Leon¬ 
ard knew not. tho direction lu which they were 
going; t lie snow and sleet In Ids face scarcely al- 
loived him to keep in .sight of the tall, dark figure 
that seemed almost to fly before him. Nowand 
then she turned around I/O see ir lie still followed 
her, and each Mine beckoned to him to go faster. 
They had been walking thus ror some time, 
when Leonard raised Ids eyes to see where they 
were going. They had got out of the regular 
st reets and lie could only see a few houses around 
him. The storm was raging fearfully, and the 
snow was already so deep as to render walking 
difficult. He slopped and called to her. 
“Laura! j cannot go further; where do you 
live?” 
Mho did not turn around to him; only beckoned 
with her hand, and cried, “Only a little lurther.” 
Leonard could not see at all where he was, in 
the utmost perplexity he still followed. Finally 
they came to the top ot a short flight of steps, 
below which he could discern a long, level, white 
track. They both stopped at the same moment. 
Leonard strained his eyes through the storm aud 
dark, and then suddenly drew back. “ Laura! 
where are you going ? on, GOd, It is the river l" 
She answered with a wild shriek of laughter, 
clasped Lum fiercely round tfio neck and dragged 
film down tho steps, lu vain be tiled to struggle, 
lor she was nerved with tho strength of frenzy. 
There was a plunge, a crackling as the thin layer 
oflcegave way, a splashing of the water on the 
lowest, step, and then all was still. Tho thick 
snow soon made the river once more a smooth 
white surface, and tho hidden depths boro witness 
to the edict, that the sins of the fathers shall be 
visited upon the children. 
-*-*-*- 
TEE THOMPSON’S HOUSEKEEPING. 
BT M. 8. STONE. 
“ Jennie, It Is almost four o’clock. You may go 
up to the store, and get six pounds of crackers, a 
can of fruit, some cheese, and a package of yeast. 
It will soon be supper time.” 
“YOU do not make your own yeast, then ?” I 
remarked to Mrs. Thompson. 
“No; 1 never have good success with It, and 
our grocer always keeps It fresh for ten cent 3 a 
package.” 
“How long will a package last your family?" 
“Only about two weeks. Our family is an un¬ 
usually large one," she said. 
.Just, t hen Bessie, a little daughter, went Into a 
room, leaving a door njar that Jennie had care¬ 
fully closed. In an Instant my eyes took In the 
situation—bed unmade, and clothes lying all 
around In confusion; bureau drawers open, and 
piles of things on the floor that had been pulled 
out in evident haste. At that moment the grace¬ 
ful Jennie opened a door with one hand, and with 
her foot kicked a lot of things Intoaeloset, which, 
at least, gave hor a clear place to stand upon, 
“oil, horrorel” I said to myself, “andrny nephew 
over cars In love with herl” 
Bessie closed the door, and by and by Jennie 
came slipping out, looking as fresh and fair as a 
Illy. 
“Shall I get the things charged, mamma?” she 
asked. 
"Of course,” answered Mrs. Thompson; and 
then she remarked to me that times were pretty 
close, and money hard to get. 
J ennie soon returned, and Immediately after 
each little Thompson had Its hands full of crack¬ 
ers, and one could scarcely step for fear of crush¬ 
ing one—I mean a cracker. Besides the things 
ordered, Jennie brought a box of honey and some 
oranges, and said: 
“ You did not. tell me to get, these, mamma, but 
they were so nice and (rush, 1 thought you would 
be glad l brought them.” 
“Ill were you, mamma, I would return them,” 
put In Rob, “ after what, father said last evening. 
Fugle Trout says that farmers ought, to raise 
their own provisions, 1 have been looking over 
the bill that French sent in for the last quarter, 
and lie has us charged with haras, lard, candles, 
butter, yeast, aud a score ot things that Auntie 
Trout never bought, in her lire.” 
“ AUDftlc Trout Is stingy 1” said Jennie. 
'• 1 do not think she Is. She says she wants to 
be prudent and economical. Uncle says that she 
simply makes one hand wash the other, "said Hob. 
“Mrs. M vers,” continued Jennie, “auutle will 
never buy hard soap unless she can draw from 
her ‘ paper-rag fund,’ as she calls It.” 
“ i’ll warrant there were several dollars' worth 
of coup on that bill, said Hob, excitedly. 
“Hobert, go right out and do your evening 
chores. You are meddling with things that do 
not concern you!” said Mrs. Thompson. 
“I do not thlDk I am. mother. You know-” 
but she opened the door, waved her hand, and 
poor Rob was soon out of sight. 
“Mamma, 1 think Rob s Impudence Is too much 
to stand,” said Jennie. “ Because he wants to go 
to college, he thinks we ought to get along with¬ 
out buying anything.” 
At the tea-table Jennie said:—“I s not this 
honey nice, papa? Fiiencd got It from New York 
yesterday. By the way, he told me to tell you to 
come up in a day or two.” 
“It. Is near the first ot the month,”said Rob, 
significantly. 
The Dcxt day my husband came In, bringing 
family groceries from French's. 
“ He keeps a nice assortment of things, and 
everything looks fresh and tempting fur a coun¬ 
try store,” said he. “At first, I thought I would 
Invest In a tew luxuries. As I was standing there, 
In came Fred Barton, with new books under ids 
arm. ‘Come and have a smoke, Fat®/1 said: 
‘No, thank you, 1 have sworn off. I have con¬ 
cluded that I want a libra ry, and here are the first 
fruits of my economy,” said he, showing me Mtc 
books. J knew tho Idea would please you, so I 
stepped Into the book-store and Ordered a couple 
that will gratify and Interest us more than things 
to cat.” 
“Thompson was there, too,” he wont on, “and 
French gave him his bill. It must have been Im¬ 
mense, for the color left. Ids lips, and l heard him 
ask If there was not a mistake about It. ‘ No,’ 
said French. 4 Oh, it Is tor six mouths, Is it. not, ?’ 
said Thompson. 1 Only for the last quarter,’ said 
French. 
“Frf.d Is going to take Jennie to the concert, 
to-night,” continued my husband. 
“ something must be done to break oil the Inti¬ 
macy between Fred and Jennie,” soldi. “She 
will never make a suitable partner ror him.” 
“Now, my little wife, do not Interfere,” I beg 
of you,” he said. “Attempts of that, klndgrne- 
erally fall, ami yours would probably add fuel to 
tho flames.” 
Yet the rnoro l thought about It, tho more 1 felt, 
that, something must be done. In a day or two, 
In came Fred. As I have before Intimated, he 
was my nephew, and was very dear to me. Be¬ 
sides, he was promising In every way. I felt 
that, well-mated, he would be winged, but Ill- 
mated, fettered for life. 
“How did yon enjoy the concert, Fred?” I 
asked. 
“ First-rate," lie answered. 
"You took Miss Jennie, I believe.” 
“ Yes.” 
“ She Is a right pretty girl, and good company,” 
I said. 
lie blushed considerably when I asked, “ Are 
you often there?” 
“Not often,” he replied; “only when I have 
gone after Jennie, or taken her home, and then 
only In the hall and parlor " 
“ 1 wits there for tea the other evening," T con¬ 
tinued, “and am real glad J went. Go often, 
Fred, and go unexpectedly. That is the most 
pleasant way. I believe In Impromptu visits." 
Shortly after this there came a rainy afternoon. 
Fred was lonely. Ite had sworn ofl smoking, 
and sadly missed his cigar. He. concluded to 
drive down to see Jennie. He found the sUtlog- 
room in considerable disorder; but " tho children 
had to play In the house.” Jennie's wrapper was 
soiled, and her hair was not combed. “ It was 
stormy, and sbe thought no one would bo in. 
She had boon careless," she said. “If Mr. Bar¬ 
ton would excuse her for a short time, she would 
be glad,” 
Fred thought of the sainted sister he had a 
year ago, who always made herself and home 
bright cm rainy days. 
Present ly one little fellow climbed up on one of 
Fred's kne^s, while another played bo-peep from 
behind a rocking-chulr. 
41 Fed, can ’oo play games ?" 
44 Yes, I think so,” he answered. 
44 Were ’oo ever a ‘ltllc boy like me ?” 
44 Yes." 
“ What, did ’oo like to play best.?" 
“I like best to ride to Boz,” said little Bessie. 
“Ride where?" asked Feed. 
* 4 She means to Bostou,” said Johnnt. 
“Bind man’s bun is Just the jolliest game,” 
said Johnny. 
Mr. Thompson remarked, from behind a paper, 
that he guessed Johnny Inherited his love of the 
game from ills father. 
44 Papa must be b’lndfolded,” declared Johnnt, 
whereupon he Ashed a silk handkerchief out. of 
his father’s hat for the bandage. By the time 
Jennie returned the room was merry enough. 
After a while, Johnny said, “Let’s trygoosle 
g’ab next.” 
“ Wliat under the sun Is that?” asked Fred. 
“ .Tust turn around, Mr. Barton, and 1 will show 
you," said Rob. 
He did so, and Ron Mod Ids wrists together se¬ 
curely behind him, and getting'out ot his way, 
said, “Catch some one If you can.” 
He pursued Jennie first, and then the children, 
but each one eluded his grasp. He then gave Mr. 
Thompson a lively chase, amid the laughter aud 
shouts of tho children, lu turning quickly, Mr. 
Thompson's foot caught. In a ripped place In the 
carpet, and ho fell heavily against a door which 
Immediately flew open, and ere Fred realized his 
position, lie stood framed In the doorway, while 
the elderly gentleman lay prostrate at his feet 
unhurt. He beheld before him a disorderly room, 
such as my pen cannot portray, and beyoud any¬ 
thing he had ever imagined. 
“ This Is Jennie's ’ooin,” said Johnny, "splen¬ 
did place to p’ay hide and seek. Let’s have a 
game.” 
“It looks as if it would be,” said Mr. Thompson 
dryly. “ I think though we must not be hard on 
Jennie. Mother is away to-day and she has extra 
work.” 
The games were over for that day, but Johnny 
was not. satisfied. 41 He wanted Fred to go with 
him to the wood-shed and see how fast he could 
saw wood with his new saw." 
“ But It is raining,” said Fred. 
" There Is a ’oof to keep away the ’aln, and we 
can go 'ight thro’ the kitchen and not get wet a 
bit.” 
Tills remark nearly took Jennie's breath away. 
As for Fred ho remembered very suddenly an en¬ 
gagement that, called him home, and took his de¬ 
parture. 
The next time he called, lie was decorously on- 
tertalned In the parlor. Another time Rob ush¬ 
ered film Into tho sitting room. Ho was hardly 
seated before a terMtic scream was heard, and 
Jennie rushed Into the room, followed by Fred, 
to discover the cause. Johnny and Bessie were 
found there; and the litt le girl’s dress was In a 
flame. Her long curls were already spoiled, and 
she. was writhing with pain. Johnny was badly 
frightened, but was manfully trying to beat, out 
the flame w llh his lists. Fred grasped the first 
woolen thing lie could find, (which proved to be 
Jennie’s Merino dress, which he fouud on the 
floor,) and wrapped It. around the child and smoth¬ 
ered the lire. She, half suffocated, was given Into 
her mother’s arms, and the whole family worked 
to relieve her sufferings. 
Johnny whs left, uncared for, It being supposed 
that lie had escaped almost unhurt, lie threw 
himself down In one corner of the room, on a pile 
of things that proved to bo Ids sister's hat and 
shawl, and moaned with fright and pain, Fred 
heard him, and thought he might at least do 
something to relieve him ; so taking a light, he 
wont and examined him. His hands were a piti¬ 
ful thing to see, but, fils clothes were woolen, and 
he was thereby saved from serious Injury. 
Fred took olt Johnnie's coat, and then askcrl, 
“ What Is good lor burns Johnny? I’ll be hanged 
If I know!” 
“ Tim French says Ills mother uses apple-but¬ 
ter,” said Johnny. 
" Where can I get some, and some clothes, I 
wonder," asked Fred. 
" Guess l can find ’ags In the c’oset. Here are 
some now " said Johnny, swinging open a door, 
giving Fred a good view of Hie Interior. He then 
led the way to the kitchen cupboard, when Fred 
fouud the object ot their search, and wore. He 
bandaged the poor hands, and the little fellow 
stood It bravely; but lie could not help sobbing 
aud shivering with pain, and was only content 
when he was la Fred’s arms, or had him sitting 
near him. 
Fred Barton culled often at the Thompsons’ 
to see Johnny, lie begged so hard ror him to do 
up the poor fingers that ho said he could not 
neglect him. He remarked to mo one afternoon 
that he always knew a woman was needed to 
make a homo bright and cheerrul, but he never 
realized before that neglect ou her part could 
make it so disorderly and void of comfort, with 
Mm means at hand to have It otherwise. 
" Such disorder lu bed-rooin and kitchen I never 
saw,” said Fred. Say, aunt, did you foresee an 
exposure when you advlBed me to call often ?” 
“Yes," I answered. 
44 Well you were wise, and I bless you and love 
Jounnt with all my heart.” 
My husband came In that evening and said: 
“ I'll declare. It, Is too bad ! They say Thompson 
will have to leave his farm!" 
** For what cause V” I asked. 
“To pay his debts," he said. “People blame 
his wire and family. I do not, believe It Is their 
fault. He certainly ought to know how much lie 
can let them spend.” 
“Probably he does, but they are not governed 
by his Judgment,” I replied. “In faet, I know 
they are not. His wife Is not a help-meet In Its 
fullest sense. And you thought Jennie would not 
be." 
“ I tbtnk I have good reason to think so,” he re¬ 
turned. “ I agree with you, and feel assured that 
my wife Is the best woman In the world.” 
-- 
THE COMMODORE’S $100. 
Mr. Vanderbilt once gave Elder Lornas of the 
Shaker Community, a check for Stoo to buy a 
wooden leg for a young man who was sadly In¬ 
jured on the Central Railroad. “Then,” says 
Elder Lomas, “ he told me of his first visit to the 
Shakers about the year ISIS. lie had brought a 
sloop-load of melons to Albany, and, after dis¬ 
patching peddlers south aud cast, started himself 
with one horse and wagon with melons to Schen¬ 
ectady. Arriving at t he Shaker’s, he* red his horse 
aud took dinner himself. After dinner he sold to 
our people a large number of melons, and the old 
man’s eyes twinkled exceedingly when he said: 
4 1 never sawsuch people; they made me ashamed; 
they paid me well ror my melons, but would not 
let me pay for my dinner nor horso feed! I have 
never rorgotten It, and hoped some day to get 
even with them.’ And from this circumstance of 
65 years since I may congratulate myself that I 
was not considered Impertinent, but made most 
happily at home, and got my check. After pro¬ 
curing the artificial limb, which cost $S0,1 wrote 
the Commodore asking what disposition to make 
of the balance. The answer still manifested a 
disposition or gottlug even by replying: ‘It Is at 
your disposition; the Interest ou two dinners 
would, ere this, have amounted to that, saying 
nothing about the principal.’ ” 
-- 
THE RESULT OF GAMBLING. 
They may not grind daggers and pestle poisons 
on the Mediterranean with the same zest as of old, 
