526 
cealed. Tho vault of heaveu was brilliant with 
Its countless stars, among which shone the young 
moon’s crescent; but their glory was eclipsed by 
the coruscations of the mystical aurora, often so 
resplendent In the autumnal nights of northern 
latitudes. 
St. Ours, with his fair companion, stood leaning 
against the massive a tone-work that guarded the 
balcony, watching in silent admiration the splen¬ 
did aurora—now darting Us luminous arrows far 
up the heavens, now broadening and reddening 
Into sheets of flame, that waved to snd fro like 
blood-retl banners—and again, paling to a silver 
radiance, as Innumerable shafts or light, diverg¬ 
ing from the horizon, streamed up to the very 
zenith, and there uniting, formed a vast curtain 
of inconceivable splendor, which seemed to in- 
•close the hemisphere. 
Attracted by the report, of the brilliant phe¬ 
nomenon, many of the guests had gatheredjon 
the balcony to witness It; but behind the screen 
of a stone abutment, the lovers remained unob 
served—communing In spirit, though their lips 
were silent. Suddenly tho strange brightness 
grew more Intense; tho grand tent shook out Its 
luminous folda, waving and shimmering till the 
heavens were one canopy of light , beneath whose 
radiance every feature of the landscape became 
distinctly visible—the rocky summits of Cape Dia¬ 
mond—the wooden promontory of Point Levi—the 
fair valley of St. Cnarles, with Its guardian har¬ 
rier of mountalns-the little village cf Beanport, 
and near Its shores the dark ships of the Invaders, 
lying motionless at their anchorage. Their tall 
masts, and the delicate tracery of their slender 
spars, were clearly defined against the glowing 
sky; and a3 St. Ours pointed them out to Eu- 
phrosyno, he felt a slight shudder passthrough 
her frame, and he could scarcely catch her tremu¬ 
lous whisper as she murmured: “It Is a fearful 
sight that hostile armament, which to-morrow— 
ah! to-morrow!"- The concluding accents 
were inaudible, for she bent over the low balus¬ 
trade to hide her emotion. 
The heart of St. Ours throbbed wildly, nay, 
rapturously'; he knew for whose safety she most 
feared, and the certainty that he was beloved, 
brought with it a dangerous delight. Yet the ex¬ 
perience of each day’s Intercourse with her had 
taught him to wear an enforced calmness, which 
now sustained him as he answered her half- 
uttered fears with a few quiet words. At variance 
were his tones with the tumult of bis feelings, 
but he dared not abandon himself to tbelr control. 
“ Thero Is, 1 think, little to fear from yonder 
Invaders, who. In full view of our Impregnable 
fortress, will scarcely venture an attack. But 
even should they be so foolhardy, and some of us, 
as It must be, fall In the service of our king, 
would there not be consolation fair Eupbrosyne, 
in that saying of tho ancients, which you yester¬ 
day repeated to me—‘ Whom the gods love die 
early ?”’ 
She attempted no reply, but still bent In silence 
over the balcony, hiding her face In tho flowers 
she held. He saw them tremble In her light 
grasp, and saw, too, glittering on tnelr fragrant 
ieave 3 , the precious tears which fell from her 
downcast eyes. "How difficult he found It then 
to crush down the aching secret of his heart!—it 
trembled on his lips as, drawing her closer to his 
side, be repeated lu loving and passionateacceDts 
her cherished name. 
But only for an Instant slept the cruel remem¬ 
brance of this thraldom; and checking the rash 
confession he was almost In the act of pouring 
forth, he moved a few steps from her, and bowing 
his bead upon ht 3 breast,, strove to still the rebel¬ 
lious murmurs of hts heart. She drew towards 
him, and, as though she understood the cause or 
his disturbance, laid her hand on his am with 
that sweet familiarity which had of late grown up 
between tbem, and said In ber sweet winning 
tone, and with a look of bewitching tenderness: 
“ Louis, you are unhappy; ana will you not suffer 
me, your friend—your sister—to be your com¬ 
forter ?” 
“Sister!” he repeated with a sudden start. 
“Ah! Euphrosnye, could I tell you all!—but not 
to-night. Let me at least enjoy these fleeting 
hours, for we know not what the morrow may 
have in store for us.” 
An expression of pain crossed her face, out she 
answered him with cheerful tones and sweet 
cbldlngs for the Indulgence of his morbid fancies. 
“Ah, sweetest Eupbrosyne, chide me as yon 
will,” he said: “ I deserve your harshest rebuke 
for casting one shadow from my own darkened 
life over the joyous sunshine of yours; by daring, 
with the web of an evil destiny around me, to 
lavish my love and my despair where I can 
neither ask nor hope for aught in return.” 
Transported by the fervor of his passion, St. 
Ours gave rapid utterance to these words—such 
words of tender meaning as be had never before 
spoken to the object of his hopeless love. Eu 
phrosyne heard them with a thrill of Joy which 
spoke doquent'y la the glad light of ber bashful 
eyes, as she raised them with a glance of soft re¬ 
proach to his face, instantly to cast them down 
again, shrinking from hts fervent regards. But 
when he read In that tender look the full and per¬ 
fect love which her heart accorded him, he felt 
deeply the untruthfulnesa of his conduct in per¬ 
mitting tho silent growth of her affection without 
Btrlvlng to check it, by revealing to her his true 
position. Self-condemned and wretched, he stood 
before her, inwardly resolving, though It should 
for ever terminate their lnter.ourBe, to embrace 
the earliest opportunity of making known to her 
all the unhappy circumstances which placed an 
insurmountable barrier between them. 
Eupbrosyne, wlih the Instinct of love, marked 
the deepening gloom or his manner; but she felt 
that she was dear lo him, and the deep Joy of 
her heart remained unchliled; her eyes met his 
with uudlmmed tenderness, and no shadow dark¬ 
ened the sunshine of her Bailies. T.ouls marveled 
at her serenity; his own soul was in tumult, and 
he felt pursuaded that his sufferings could not 
escape her notice. Why, then, did she manifest 
THE BUBAL HEW-YOBKEB. 
- * - - - - - - — - - - - . ■■■. 
no distrust, no disturbance? It was Inexplicable 
to him, and almost was he tempted to believe 
that she valued his affections only as a triumph to 
her vanity; but a glance at her puro and Innocent 
face dispelled the unworthy thought. She loved 
him with the fond undoubting trust of woman; 
and he, wretch that he was, had won her young 
and guileless heart, only to betray It to certain 
misery and despair. It was too much to bear; 
and t.o escape from It he could at that moment 
have been content to know that., In the coming 
strif e, some leaden messenger of death would for¬ 
ever still the tlirobblngs of his aching heart.— 
[Conclusion next week. 
- 4 « ♦ 
SOME THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY GEORGE 
MACDONALD’S STORIES. 
£. F. M. 
This charming writer has a great audience, for 
not only thoughtful men and women read his 
works, attracted by his strong, earnest views of 
life and Its duties, but the young delight In his 
lovely stories. Aud surely our truest, wisest, 
most loving books should be for the young, who 
are in that stage of growth, when every impres¬ 
sion helps to form and color the after lile. How 
necessary then Is it. that their desires should he 
guided towards the best things, and that their 
ld-als of character should he pure and high! A 
writer says, “ If the old are thoughtful, their war¬ 
fare la almost ended; but for the young—to be 
thoughtless With all life before them—with so 
many other lives to be influenced by them lor 
misery or joy!” So Macdonald in his “ vicar's 
Daughter," “Ranald Bannerman's Boyhood,” 
would teach his readers to be nobly thoughtful, 
and In all their gladness to grow towards good¬ 
ness also. And we know how often 
“ Truth in closest words shall fail. 
When Truth embodied lu a tale 
Shall enter in at open doors,” 
Macdonald is full of human sympathy for every 
life, however low and narrow It seems, and when 
there is everything to discourage us, and our 
labor seems in vain, and our patient ta sorely 
t ried, he calls to our remembrance the disciples m 
the garden, and the oue hour they should have 
watched with the Saviour. He beautifully speaks 
of the perfect unfolding of that Divine Lite in the 
midst of weariness, doubt and Ingratitude, like 
the patient opening or the perfect blossom on 
dark and muddy waters. Chrlst’8 example of 
forbearance and of Ills ministry is set for us in 
our intercourse with one another. 
He Is continuously trying to bring to our dull 
perception, the lovoof God, as the Father, Saviour 
and Friend of each oue of us. “ He calleth his 
ovn sheep byname.” ‘'fie goeth before them 
aud the sheep follow Him-” There Is no descrip¬ 
tion of our Lord which more fully tells Ills special 
Providence, ills love and care for each Individu¬ 
al one of us, than this of the Good Shepherd. He 
calls us by mime,—no seeming accident, no (rifling 
detail, no earthly care. Is forgotten by Him. Our 
Father “ knowelh that ye have need of all itxxe 
things," said our Saviour, speaking of food and 
drink and clothes. Because His eyes behold 
eternity, He sees all the more clearly what to¬ 
day’s troubles, tbls moment’s Joy or disappoint¬ 
ment mean; and whatever comes tons we may 
be sure It is sent by a Father, who will make all 
things work for our good at last. 
Our lives, our stories, mean many deep and 
beautiful things. Providence Is continually un¬ 
folding our higher nature, 11 we will aecept. Its 
guidance, weaving its grand and loving thoughts 
through the loom of time Into the warp and woof 
of our character. God Is with us as a quickening 
life, and if we would obediently hear Ills teach¬ 
ings no bird would fly by our window, or lily bud 
open, without something for us,—no, nor would 
you ever meet a friend or an acquaintance with¬ 
out giving or receiving some good. For little 
things keepalive the mental tight and freshness 
in the atmosphere of our souls, or depress and 
deaden them. We all know how strong the Influ¬ 
ence of tho invisible air Is, though we may not 
think of It as the cause of our bright moods and 
dreary ones, hut all leel It. “ The wind Is in the 
East,” as Mr. Jarndyce said. 
Macdonald says, “ The east wind has a shadow- 
wind along with It, which blows In the minds of 
men.” This writer has a quick and glad Insight 
into the meanings of thlDgs about him. In one 
of his stories he speaks of a garden, fresh with 
dew and blooming with flowers, as “ a lovely type 
of a Commonwealth, indeed, of the kingdom and 
garden of God.” Even the shadows move him to 
tenderly beautiful thoughts. He says, “See how 
Nature hasher own way in this crowded street! 
Not all the hurry and roar and conrusloncaa keep 
the shadows out. Look: wherever the space Is 
for a moment vacant, there falls a shadow as 
grotesque, as strange, as full of unutterable 
things as any shadows ou a Held of grass and 
daisies,” and again, “the shadows look as It 
thrown from another world here, like angels from 
the lovely West and purer air " where the sunset 
still lingers. 
We all know how llttlo things comfort and 
cheer us sometimes when we are in the greatest 
trouble; how, when the heart seems to have 
grown into only a dull, aching throbbing, and tbe 
brain to have become so overstrained and weary 
that It will no longer bear weight, God sends 
some little thing, a few flowers, a little child’s 
soft, sweet voice, a few notes or music, and we 
feela6traDge relief, and hope spring# up onco 
more like a fountain of fresh waters. In one of 
Macdonald’s hooks, “ Robert Falconer” ib lusore 
trouble, far away from home. Lying awake at 
night, he heard a flock of sheep passing under 
the windows of his room. “ A faint., musical rain 
Invaded his hearlug; but tbe night was clear aud 
the moon shining. Tho sound came nearer, and 
revealed Itself a delicate tlukllng of bells. It 
drew nearer still, and nearer, growing In Bweet 
lullness as It came, until at length a slow torrent 
of tlnkllngs went past. It was a flow of a thou¬ 
sand little currents of sound, a gliding of silvery 
threads, like the talking of water-ripples against 
the side of a barge In a slow canal, all as soft as 
the moonlight, as exquisite as an odor.” No won¬ 
der the bruised heart felt quieted, and at rest, for 
with the passing of the flock might come the 
blended promises from nim who keepeth Israel 
like a flock, who leadeth his sheep Into green pas¬ 
tures." 
- 4 ~*~ 4 -- 
RECENT LITERATURE. 
Sensible F.tlunett* of the B«>st ftoeiety.— Cus¬ 
toms, MuniuMS. Morals H"i1 Huuan Culture, Com¬ 
piled from tho Best Authorities. By Mrs. H. O. 
Ward. Philadelphia : Porter X- Coates. 
There are those who scout, at the Idea of for¬ 
mulated rules for governing the conduct of affairs 
In social life. This class Insist that a kind heart 
will dictate what Is proper and expedient under 
any circumstanc es, and that, it is a safer guide 
than the. artificial customs established by frivo¬ 
lous society. 
Tennyson's estimate of the value of a kind 
heart is undoubtedly a just one, but even ad¬ 
mitting all that ho says In praise of It, did ever 
the most amiable of kind hearts give one an Ink¬ 
ling as to whether It. Is preferable to cut bread or 
to break it? to lay the napkin on the lap, or tuck 
It under the chin? 
These matters may appear trivial, but It should 
be borne in mind that life is made up of details, 
and to know for a certainty Just how and when 
to perform the thousand and one acts which are 
required of all who mingle In any society, however 
humble, will save one much pain and humiliation. 
The book under notice Is simply admirable. 
The author has consulted a wide raDgo of au¬ 
thorities, and nothing in social life has been 
deemed of too little moment for her to notice. 
Whether it. be cads, correspondence, cards, recep¬ 
tions, weddings, dress, salutations, kettle-drums, 
dinners, home education, chaperons, or any of 
tbe other topics which have any bearing on con¬ 
duct, each and all are freely and Intelligently 
treated. The strong, pure morality of the book 
should commend It to the careful attention of 
parents and educators, and although we thlDk 
the author too conservative in her ideas or 
woman’s mission, still she errs on the right side; 
and In these days when our youth are gravitat¬ 
ing toward what is fast in behavior, and loud in 
dress, we gladly welcome this excellent work and 
trust that lls Influence may be felt la tliousands 
of families. 
A few extracts are given below: 
When a letter Is upon business, commencing 
“ Sir” or “ Dear Sir,” It Is customary to place the 
name of the person addressed at the close, In the 
left-hand corner. 
When written In the third person the name is 
omitted of course; also in all letters commencing 
with the name of the person to whom you are 
writing, as “My dear Mrs. Jones.” The name 
should not thon bo repeated In the left-hand cor¬ 
ner as when one commences, “ Dear Madam,” or 
“Sir.” It Is astonishing to see how often this 
rule is violated by persons professing the greatest 
punctiliousness in observing the correct forms 
and ceremonies of social intercourse. 
The custom of leavmg a blank margin on the 
left-hand side of each page Is now looked upon as 
obsolete, excepting In legal documents. No notes 
should be commenced very high or very low on 
the page, out should be nearer the top than the 
middle of tho sheet.. 
In addressing a clergyman It la customary to 
commence “Reverend Sir" or “Dear Sir." It 19 
no longer customary to write “ B.A.” or “M.A." 
after his name. “ Rev. Henry Bell,” Is the cor¬ 
rect. tom; where the first name Is not known, 
“Rev.-Bell." 
Doctors of divinity and of medicine are thus 
distinguished: "To the Rev. James Haw, D.D.," 
or “ Rev. Dr. llaw;" “ To J. Latham, Esq , M.D.,” 
“ Doctor Latham,” or “ Dr. Latham.” 
Foreign ministers are addressed as “ His Excel¬ 
lency ” and “ Honorable.” 
In writing to servants It 13 customary to begin 
thus: “To Ellen Weller: Mrs. Jones wishes to 
have her .house In readiness on the Hth Inst.,’’ 
etc., etc. To trades-people the third person is 
used. If necessary to write tn the first person, 
one commences, “Sir." and signs “Yours truly,” 
giving the initials, as “ J. E. Jones," not “Julia 
E. Jones.” 
Thero Is a diversity of opinion as to the degrees 
of formality in commencing and signing notes 
and letters. Both in England and New England 
the scale Isas follows: “Madam,” “ Dear Mad¬ 
am,” “My dear Madam;’* “Dear Mrs. Jones," 
“My dear Mrs. Jones," “My dear Friend." la 
closing a note the degrees are Implied as follows: 
“ Truly yours " or “ Yours truly“ Very truly 
yours,” “Sincerely yours,” " Cordially yours,” 
“ Faithfully yoora,” “ Affectionately yours." 
There are words enough In use to express every 
grade of feeling, and they should be carefully se¬ 
lected for the purpose; as the conclusion or a let¬ 
ter or a note makes an Impression upon the person 
reading It. To aged persons “ With great respect, 
yours sincerely,” recommends ltselt as being less 
familiar than the other forms. A very rude end¬ 
ing is “ Yours, etc.” 
» » • ♦ ♦ * ♦ 
It Is everywhere looked upon as a vulgarity 
when a married lady signs herself with a “ Mrs.” 
before her name, or a single lady with tho 
“ Miss.” In writing to strangers who do not know 
whether to address you as “ Mrs," or “ Miss,*' the 
address should be given lu full, after signing your 
letter; as, " Mrs. John Vaughan,” followed by the 
direction: or, If unmarried, tho “ Miss ” should be 
placed in brackets, at a short distance preceding 
the signature. 
Never write of your children as “MiasNellie” 
or “Master Edward.” Reserve the “Miss” or 
“Master” for use in speaking or writing to In¬ 
feriors. 
The expression “presents compliments’* has 
been discarded for quite a number of years by all 
who are not admirers of the old-school forms and 
,, ceremonies. It Is as obsolete as the word “ gen¬ 
teel or as the word “pcllte,” which was formerly 
so much used by Americans In their acceptances 
and regrets, the English form of “kind” or “very 
kind,” being now generally substituted for “ po¬ 
lite.” 
“lean give you no reason," says an EDgltsh 
writer, “ why these poor words ‘ polite,’ ‘ present 
compliments,’ and • genteel,’ are thought so vul¬ 
gar; bur it Is quite certalu that they mark the 
class to which you belong. They are tabooed or 
excluded lu good society.” 
Among the most trustworthy tests of good 
home training Is placed that of table manners; 
and no Individual can hope to acquire and to keep 
them who knows any difference In them in the 
privacy of the family circle, and when In com¬ 
pany. The properly-trained yout h does not annoy 
those next to whom he sits by fidgeting In hla 
chair, moving his feet, playing with his broad, or 
with any of the table equipage. Neither does he 
chew his food with his mout h open, talk with it lu 
his mouth, or make any of those noises In eating 
which are the characteristics of vulgarity. His 
food Is not conveyed in too large or too small por¬ 
tions to Ills mouth; he neither holds his head as 
erect as if he had swallowed a ramrod, nor does 
he bury his face In his plate. He handles his 
knlte and fork properly, anl not “ overhand," as a 
clown would; he removes them from the plate, as 
soon as It is placed before him, and he crosses 
them side by side when he ha3 finished, and not 
before, as this 13 the signal which a well-drilled 
butler observes for removing tho plate, ne does 
not leave hlB coffee-spoouor tea-spoon In his cup. 
He avoids using his handkerchief unnecessarily, 
or disgusting those who are eating by trumpet¬ 
like performances with It. He does not converse 
In a loud tone, nor Indulge In uproarious laugh¬ 
ter. If he breaks an article he Is not profuse In 
his apologies, but shows bis regret In his face and 
In his manner rather than In words. Some writer 
has said: “As It Is Ill-mannered to express too 
much regret, so It Is the essence of rudeness not 
to make any apology.” Tittlebat Titmouse, when 
he broke a glass dish, assured his hostess that he 
would replace it with the be3t in London. This 
was rather too practical a form of showlDg his 
sincerity. 
The well-bred youth breaks his bread Instead 
of cutting It, taking care not to crumble It In a 
slovenly way; he takes his wine holding bis glass 
by the stem, and never drains It. lie does not 
take wine that he does not want, because he Is 
too timid to refuse, nor does he hesitate to pass 
any course of which be does not wish to partake. 
Instead of playing with It as a writer on table- 
etiquette advises. He swallows his food before 
ho leaves the table, and sees no occasion for as¬ 
tonishment, because eating in the street Is forbid¬ 
den. All the details of good breeding are as 
familiar to him as his alphabet, and he has been 
taught to think that attention to details la all 
things Is the true sign of a great mind, and that 
he who can, la necessity, consider the smallest, 
can also compass the largest subjects. 
« • 4 • • • • 
Tbe foregoing are not to be taken as a fair In¬ 
dex of what the book contains. It is almost 
an Injustice to quote from It, for to properly ap¬ 
preciate how valuablo a book It is, one should 
read It entire. 
The American Antiuiiarlon. A Journal of An¬ 
thropology, devotee especially to Early History, 
Etlinolouy and Archncolnyy : illustrated. Pub¬ 
lished quarterlv by Brooks k Bchinkel. Cleveland, 
o. Edited by Rev. Stephen D. Peet, Ashtabula. 
O. $2 per year. 
The scope of this magazine will be understood 
by the tollowlng list of topics: 
The Early History, Exploration, Discoveries and 
Settlement of the different portions of the Conti¬ 
nent. 
The Native Races, their Physical aud Mental 
Traits, Social Organization and Tribal Distinc¬ 
tions; their Religious Customs, Beliefs and Tra¬ 
ditions, as well as their earlier aud later Migra¬ 
tions and changes. 
The Antiquities of America, especially the Pre¬ 
historic Relics and Remains Ancient Earth-works 
and Structures, Inscriptions, Hieroglyphics, 
Signs and Symbols. 
Prehistoric Man, bis Origin, Antiquity, Geologl- 
cal Position and Physical Structure. 
Tue magazine will also treat of subjects of a 
more general character, such as The Origin of 
Man, the Rise of Society, the Origin of Writing, 
the Growth of Language, tho History of Architec¬ 
ture, the Evolution of Ornament, and Ceremonial 
Observances, Comparative Religions, Serpent 
Worship and Religious Symbols, Man ana tae 
Mastodou, Man and Animals, Earth and Man, 
and many other topics which are connected with 
the Science of Anthropology, especially as they 
are viewed by the Antiquarian, 
The articles are of a popular cast, though as a 
Selem lfic Journal, the aim will be to record all 
New Discoveries and Explorations, to notice t he 
proceedings of the various scientific associations, 
and the latest publications; aud to give the re¬ 
sults of the latest Investigations In each depart¬ 
ment. 
The Contributors are gentlemen who stand high 
in tho scientific world and who are thoroughly 
acquainted with their specialties. 
The correspondents are also very Intelligent 
men, residing In various localities on this Conti¬ 
nent and in different part.8 of Europe. The de¬ 
sign is to make the magazine partake of the ad¬ 
vanced studies of the best scholars ou the Conti¬ 
nent. It will be a thoroughly reliable and valu¬ 
able Scientific Journal. 
Home and Farm, the clever semi-monthly 
published by B. F. Avery & Sons, Louisville, liy., 
eteadliy Improves m matter and appearance. It 
Is unnecessary to wish It a success. It has already 
attained it. its circulation Is the largest of any 
Journal published south of tho Ohio, While de¬ 
voting Its columns mainly to the interests of the 
farm, it does not by any means neglect the 
family. 
