been so busily rearing, fluring those tew memo- 
rable days, and brought back harshness ami dis¬ 
sonance to a hearth ori which harmony and con¬ 
fidence had shod so dear, but fleeting, a light. 
The disappointed girl tried to submit, and to 
endure: hut she could not resume her former 
lightness or heart. She now grieved not, alone, 
that her guardian was dally degrading his line 
intellect and nnbtn character -she grieved, also, 
over her own wasted life. A consciousness of sym¬ 
pathies and powers which had never been culti¬ 
vated, had been awakened within her, and sho 
could not, again, sit down In contented Idleness 
and Ignorance. 
Mr. Murray, like many others who, having set 
their faces toward the attainment of good, suffer 
themselves to look back, and are again lnrnl Into 
the toll:; of error, did not atop at. the precise point, 
to which he had bafore fallen 
lower, 
those of most of rny fellow-men, probably. No. 
But In my own conscience, Yes! For the rnan 
who, deliberately, wlUi lly, and with no other ex¬ 
cuse than the gratification of a grovelling appe¬ 
tite, deprives himself of that share of reason with 
which Goa has endowed him, must be, In truth, 
responsible to the Great Judge of all for whatever 
casualties his temporary mania may occasion. 
My resolution is taken. I will yield no move to 
the debasing power of wine.—Henceforward, I 
will avoid the cause, and know myself Incapable 
of the commission of crime. 
the guidance of his habitual prudence, no ven¬ 
tured, accordingly, Into many places which were 
by no means safe to unaccustomed feet; and 
Helen, after having provoked more than one 
petulant retort, by attempting to dissuade 1dm, 
followed. In timid and anxious silence. An excla¬ 
mation of alarm, from ono of the workmen, at 
length caused Mr. Murray to pause and look back; 
to bis horror, he saw that a piece of Umber, from 
which he had just stepped, had yielded to the 
force of Ills weight and motion; and though still 
fast at the opposite end, was swinging in such a 
manner that, his niece, who had scarcely traversed 
halt Its length, could neither advance farther, nor 
maintain her footing where sho then was. An¬ 
other moment, and she must have fallen t.o inev¬ 
itable death among the rubbish below; but a fig¬ 
ure suddenly emerged to view—starting, appar¬ 
ently, from a partition immediately beside the 
scene of danger—a strong arm arrested the de¬ 
scent of tlm terrified girl; and before her now 
bitterly self-accusing uncle could make his way 
to the spot, she was resting, unhurL, though 
nearly insensible, In the apartment whence her 
preserver had Issued. 
"My child! My precious girl!" exclaimed Mr. 
Murray, on coming up. “ Can you ever forgive 
me for bringing you Into a place so full of dan¬ 
ger ?” 
“ There would have been no danger whatever, 
sir,” quickly responded the young man who had 
advanced, so prnmplly, to Helen’s rescue, "if 
proper caution had been observed. It was very 
madness to venture across that loose plunk. I 
would have warned you, hut T had hoard the 
young lady expostulate In. vain, two or thro* 
times before, and could not, or course, fancy that 
anything I would say would be listened to.” 
At aoy other time, Mr. Murray would have re¬ 
sented this plainly worded speech, as an Insolent 
freedom on the part of the young carpenter—for 
such lie evidently was; but he was completely 
humbled, for the time, in view of the so nearly 
fatal consequences of Ida obstinate Imprudence. 
The person who, not without risk to Ids own life, 
had saved his beloved niece from death, and him¬ 
self from the unending remorse with which such 
an event would have fcurthened his after life, 
might have carried rebuke even farther, without 
provoking him to anger. To the young man's re¬ 
proaches, therefore, he meekly replied— 
"i deserve your censure; hut, believe me, I 
could never have perpetrated such rashness, If I 
had been actually myself. But the truth Is "—and 
the proud though repentant old gentleman red¬ 
dened with shame as he made the confession—" 1 
had taken too much wine.” 
“ Then,” said the other, earnestly, “ thank God, 
with your whole soul, that you have escaped the 
guilt of murder." 
"Murder!” thought Mr. Murray, as, seated he- 
side his sill t trembling niece, he rodeslowly home¬ 
ward, that fearful word yet thrilling on his heart,, 
“ Murder! and of this dear child, whom, from her 
Infancy, I have guarded by day and by night, and 
•suffered not the winds of heaven to visit too 
roughly!’ Should I really have been guilty of a 
THE WANDEBINGS OF ULYSSES, 
GRANT. 
Some pretty had rubbish by Bret Harte in the Wash¬ 
ington Capital. 
We're here, dear, and what with our glories 
And honors, you'll know by that sign 
Why we haven’t met Mrs. Sartoris 
And I haven’t written a line; 
Why. what with Dukes giving receptions, 
And going in slate to Guild Hall, 
You ’aint got the faintest conceptions 
Of what we are doing, at all! 
I’ve Just took the card of a Countess, 
I’ve said “ not-al-home to an Earl; 
As for Viscounts and Lords, the amount is 
Too absurd. Why. there isn’t a girl 
In Galena who wouldn’t, he hating 
Your friend Mary Jonots who now writes. 
While behind her this moment, iu waiting, 
Stands the gorgeonseet critter in tights. 
He’s the valet of Viscount Fitz Doosem , 
He wears eppylct* and all that; 
Has an awful nosegay In his bosom; 
His legs are uncommonly fat. 
He called our Ulysses "My master 1” 
.Tnst think of UI-but. I stopped that. 
He tried to be half way familiar. 
But I busted the crown of his hat! 
We’re to dine out at Windsor on Friday; 
We take tea with the Princess next week; 
Of course I shall make myself tidy. 
And tlx myself up, so to speak. 
“ I presume I’m addressing the daughter 
Of America's late President?" 
Said a Duke to me last nitrht. You oughter 
Have seen bow he stammered and — went! 
The fact is the ‘‘help" of this city 
•Alnt got no style, nohow. Why, dear, 
Though I shouldn’t say It, 1 pity 
Those Grants, for they do act so queer. 
Why, Grant smok’d and drinlc’d with a Marshal 
Like a Senator ; and Missus G., 
Well 1—though I’m inclined to be partial— 
She yawned through a royal levee! 
Why, only last night, at a supper, 
He sat there so simple and still. 
That, had I the pen of a—Tapper, 
I couldn’t express my shame — 'til 
An Eurl he rose up and says, winking, 
" You’re recalling your battles, no doubt ?” 
Says Ulysses, " f only WB* thinking 
Of the Stanislaus and the dugout, 
And the scow that I ran at Knight's Ferry, 
And the tolls that 1 once used to take I” 
Imagine it, dear 1 Them’s the very 
Expressions he used. Why, I quake 
As 1 tblnk of it— 'til a great Duchess 
nolds out her white hand urul says " Shake,” 
Or words of that meaning; for such Is 
Them English to folks whom they take. 
There’s dear Mr. Pierrepont; yet think, love, 
In spite of his arms and his crest, 
And his liveri' i, all he may prink, love, 
Don't bring him no nearer the best; 
For they’re tired of shamming and that thing 
They’ve had for some eight huudred year. 
And really, perhaps it's a blessing, 
These Grants are uncommonly' queer! 
As for me, dear —don’t lot it go further— 
But —umpli!—there’s the son of a peer 
Whose watting for me till his father 
Shall give him a thousand a year! 
The castle we’ll live in, as I know, 
Is the size of the White House, my dear, 
And you’ll Just tell them folks from Ohio 
That I think we will settle down here. 
ho descended yet 
The polsomoua cup was oftoner than ever 
at his lips, and the common results ot Intemper¬ 
ance soon manifested themselves. One or the first 
and most prominent of these was a change In his 
choice of associates. He had. always been very 
select In Ills companionships— fastidiously so In 
those which affecUjd his niece; guarding her, 
with careful vigilance, from contact with what¬ 
ever could contaminate or ploblanlzo. Now, he 
admitted t.o hl3 house, and Invited to Ills table, 
men whom he had formerly regarded with sus¬ 
picion and dislike; and whoso presence at his fire¬ 
side, had It been unovoldahle, he would, at least, 
have submlttud to as a dangerous necessity. And 
Helen was compelled to treat these men as her 
undo’s guest**. But this was not all—worse yet 
awaited her. 
One of these guests, attracted, as was thought, 
by her sweet, face and modest demeanor, soon 
offered her marked attention. Ho was a man ot 
wealth and captivating manners, hut, of corrupt 
principles. Helen had boon prejudiced against 
him before his introduction Into the house, and 
this prejudice assisted to guard her against his 
many fascinations. Sho tried to discourage him 
bp coldnesB, but lie would nor, bo repelled. Avoid 
him she could uot, and sho at length appealed to 
her uncle. Her own opinion of Mr. Barwood was 
grounded on what, Bhe had formerly heard Mr. 
Murray say ot him. Wo will not, however, unseal 
the truth that her fancy had yot another safe¬ 
guard. 
She had frequently accompanied her uncle In 
hits visits of Inspection to "the new house.” On 
al most every such occasion she had seen and ex¬ 
changed a few sentences ot conversation with 
Mr. George Bolden, the young master builder, 
w hose activity and strength had been so signally 
exerted in her behalf. Ttieso interviews always 
I appeared accidental, but wo Incline to a belief 
that, they were more often I he result of Ingenuity 
on the part Of Mr. Bolden, whom the accident al¬ 
luded to had supplied with a key to thojoung 
lady’s acquaintance, such as few of her more aris¬ 
tocratic admirers had ever obtained; that key 
was gratitude. Helen had not forgotten that Mr. 
Beldeu had saved her life, and Mr. Murray re¬ 
membered from what he had saved lilm. The 
growing interest of the young people In each 
oi,her was not frowned on by the uncle, who sum¬ 
marily decided that It would terminate wlien- 
Belden’s business relations with himself 
over M r 
should cease. 
But the now house required a remarkable 
amount of finishing—of that, delicate work which 
only the master hand could execute. According¬ 
ly, some minute but indispensable exercise of his 
craft brought the young architect frequently 
within or about tlio edifice, even after it was oc¬ 
cupied by Its owner’s family; and It was generally 
very Important that the young mistress of the 
mansion should seo arid approve his workman¬ 
ship. Helen, whom her uncle’s affectionate cau¬ 
tion had preserved from all intimacies beyond 
the limits of Ills own ramlty circle, could not fail 
to remark the Intelllgencu and good sense mani¬ 
fest In whatever Mr. Holden said or did. The 
very contrast between his manuers and those of 
the gentlemen whose courtesy Bhe was now 
obliged to endure, enhanced the pleasure sho 
realized In his society. In the, place of graceful 
flippancy, she heard the expression ot valuable 
thoughts; instead of those pliant, sentiments 
which adapted themselves with such facile po¬ 
liteness to any mood that her uncle or herself 
chanced to display, she met rational opinions— 
often at variance with her own, but always re¬ 
spectfully explained and firmly adhered to. She 
felt that he regarded her neither as a chill who 
might he played with, nor as a trifling girl who 
must be 11 moral to bo amused, but as a thinking 
being, old enough and sensible enough to have 
Ideas of her own, and to have acquired such 
knowledge as became her years and station in 
life. She knew that, In his society, the highest 
and best powers of her mind were called Into ex¬ 
ercise, that she was both instructed and grati¬ 
fied by his conversation, while that of the gentle¬ 
men In her uncle’s parlor tended always rather 
to diminish than enhance her self-respect. Was 
It strange that she drew comparisons not at all 
favorable to Mr. Barwood ? — [Conclusion next 
week. 
ONE GLASS MORE 
BY ALICE CRAIG 
BUILDING BLOCKS, 
This is an ago of toys, especially of such as are 
designed for Instruction as well as pleasure. It 
may be said, however, that all toys, of whatever 
kind, must of necessity convey Information to the 
feeble, yet eager and growing minds of the young. 
So tender and impressionable are these budding 
Intellects that, It is to the lust degree important 
that all the appliances of education, even the 
most trifling and insignificant, should convey only 
correct Ideas ot the great and shadowy world of 
which they are as yet but dimly conscious. 
