AU 6. 34 
557 
't'itcranr HlkHto, 
UNNUMBERED GRAVES. 
Yon hillside with its shafts of trlonraiuK white, 
Buthod iu the wlory of the Butthi* nun. 
Hold* many n arnvo where, lilddnn from our Rteht. 
Homo loved otai nlimps, life's toil und labor done. 
But, there are grave* over whose slumbering mold 
No polished marble ream It* stately head, 
And where no frugrunt flowers above unfold 
To waken pity for the imiet dead. 
Three are the grave* donp down within our heart* 
Where lie the hopes and dream* of early years, 
Buried from ehrht, but Nlirnalled hy nuoh marks 
Ah only can bn made by blood and tour* 
Some early love that crowned us In our youth, 
And mode life glorious for a short invent hour— 
Some oherlNhod promise, robbed of strength and 
truth- 
Crushed In the morning of it* nnw-horn power. 
Here la the spot where memory has engraved 
The form audtfaee of one we called a friend. 
One for whose welfare we would e’en have bruvodj 
Censure and heartache to the bitter end. 
But Hwos not wisely done and so wo draw 
Before the treachery of the smiling eyoa 
A heavy veil. The cold world If it saw, 
Would proffer pity in a thousand lies. 
8 o life goes on. We lay the forms away 
Of things wo loved not wisely hut too well. 
And In the lapse of yours wo learn to stay 
The fretful chanting of their funeral knoll. 
We learn to smile, before the smiling throng, 
Although the adder's fangs he deeply sot; 
And Join, perhaps, our voices In the song. 
To soothe the pain wo never can forgot. 
And thus we learn to envy the euiru rest 
Ol' those who sleep beneath the sod. 
Bound with life's galling chain, we know 'tin best 
To bend our heads and pass beneath the rod. 
And when we see some mourners heavy clad 
tu robes of black, haggard, with tear-dimmed eye, 
w« know their lives would be more bright ami glad 
Could they but reason—it is but life to die. 
Mourn not the slumbering dead, but rather say. 
Blest are the sleepers. Years may come and go; 
Heads that are brown and gold may turn to gray ; 
But they are done with earth and tears and woe. 
Somewhere, wo know, beyond the world of stars, 
They would ut last have found sweet Lethe’s stream. 
Some time we’ll meet them at (kid's Judgment bar. 
Where life is love, and love one long true dream. 
(Ogden Freeman. 
-- 
THE STORY OF A LETTER.* 
JULIA KAVANAOH. 
Every one has heard of sir John Percy’s great 
lawsuit. It is a great trouble to Sir John. At 
least, ho says so ; hla llrst, ho oalls It; hut I al¬ 
ways thought that hla troubles begun with bis 
name. He claimed to bo a real Percy, ill- 
natured people said that hla grandfather had 
been a greengrocer: this tnay be true, or It may 
not, but l never knew a more honorable, noble- 
minded loan Chan Sir John, ana I mean to say 
that, whatever Ills real origin, the Porcys might, 
have been proud of such a kinsman. There 
would, therefore, have been little harm in bis 
claim of noble descent, which no one hud ever 
dreamed of opposing, If good Sir John had not 
thought ill tAi strengthen It by assuming the tem¬ 
per and deportment of Hotspur. One of his 
favorite theories was "race," und the transmis¬ 
sions of hereditary peculiarities. 
“ Look at me! Ain 1 not, ouo or the old Percys 
in physiognomy as well as In blood? And un¬ 
luckily for me have I not got that dreadful Hou 
spui temper which, as tt cannot bo vented In re¬ 
bellion, or ou a battle field, has brought this 
eternal lawsuit, on my hands?” 
I groaned, tor about one part of this statement 
there could bo no doubt: It was the Hotspur 
temper that had brought on this lawsuit, and as 
I eaudtdly believe that sir John acquired that 
temper to prove his descent from tho same Illus¬ 
trious line as gave Chevy Chase Its hero, and 
Lord Douglas his enemy, l am justified In my as- 
sertlon that hts troubles began with his name. 
Amongst, the troubles or Hir.iobu there was one 
which seemed to me us real as his relationship to 
tho Percys. lie complained that, all his letters 
did not reach him, uud he laid the blame to his 
legal opponents. At first, he concluded that they 
had un agent at, the post-offlee; then he gave up 
this croteuet ror one as Improbable, but at least 
more plausible: tbe agent, was not In the post- 
office, but out of It; and tt was his habit to way¬ 
lay the postman, and either bribe or drug him, as 
he might ffnd most convenient; then abstract 
Sir John’s letter—for this knowing ugent never 
took but. oue letter, though, of course, It was 
alwu)B the right one. 
This explanation of his losses, however, had to 
be given upas well as tho first; and Sir John's 
third and last conclusion was the saddest and 
most, ominous of the three, so far, at least, as his 
poaoe ol mind was concerned : he declared that 
the agent was one of his three female servants. 
Ills only man servant, James, was Incorruptible; 
but Mrs. ureen, the housekeeper, Ann, the cook, 
and Martha, the housemaid, did not. uulucklly, 
belong to that Immaculate category. They were 
changed repeatedly—Mrs. Green became Mrs. 
Loug. Ann and Martha turned Into Eliza and Mary, 
a Bnihara lock was adapted to the letter-box ; but 
letters-important letters, said Sir John, all re¬ 
ferring to his lawsuit—continued to bo lost, or, 
what came to tho same thing, not to reach him, 
l began to feel staggered. Sir John was posi¬ 
tive, and though very augry, he preserved a sort 
ot calmness in his anger which was uullko Hot- 
spur'B wrath, and helped to shake my skepti¬ 
cism. There could be no harm, at least, In trying 
to assist, him out of this difficulty, uud l under- 
1 Ills story was found utuongst the MSS. of tho la- 
mouUul Mias Kavami^h. Other MSS. wore also found 
, M, ' a - Kavaua>fh, but iu too inoomploU) a form to 
auunt of their being published. 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
took to provide him with a thoroughly reliable 
servant-girl. I applied to my sister-in-law in the 
country, a woman of strong sense and much pene¬ 
tration. I sent her down on account of sir John’s 
predicament., and begged of her to let ua have a 
good, sensible, and honest girl, If she knew such 
a person In her neighborhood, sir John preferred 
a girl from tho country. “ It Is tho lover who 
rulDB everything," he said, “and tho lover Is the 
growt h of time. If I can have a fortnight's fideli¬ 
ty, I shall be well pleased." By return of poRt 
my sister-in-law wrote: “ 1 have got the very girl 
you want; she Is a heroine, neither more nor less. 
She spent ten years In my cousin’s family, and 
saved tnelr youngest child trom drowning by her 
presence of mind. Twice the house was attacked 
by burglars, and twice Nelly displayed the calm¬ 
est courage. On ono of those occasions she was 
alow with the children. Her fidelity Is beyond 
suspicion. I defy any one to bribe Nelly, Fort.he 
last three years she has been engaged to a young 
man of the best character, a carpent er; and It, la 
for bis sake as well as not. to leave Her mother 
and her little BlBter, that, Nelly would not go to 
Australia with my cousin. Tbe children were 
broken-hearted at the parting.” 
This high-flown euloglum concluded with the 
Intimation that Nelly would be very glad of a 
situation In Hlr John Percy's household, and es¬ 
pecially rtf the liberal terms he offered, and that 
she would leave 8- at once, and call upon 
him the uext, day. 
Sir John was taking his breakfast,, when Mary, 
the housemaid, came In and said that “ a young 
porson wanted to speak to him.” 
Uroat was Sir John’s surprise when the heroine 
of my slster-ln-law's letter entered. A little 
childish t iling blood before him. 
“ Why, ray dear, how old are you ?” he asked In 
some dismay. 
•‘Twenty-live, sir," replied a quiet little voice. 
81r John looked at her. Yes, there were some 
of the lines on that young race. And, though It 
was a young face, with slight features, It. was a 
remarkable face In Its way; pale and resolute 
with dark eyebrows, aud dark eyes looking qulet4 
ly at, you from beneath their arch. “What Is 
your name?" he asked a little abruptly. 
“ Ellen lially, sir." 
Yes, she won Irish, and that was a drawback. 
Not, that the prejudice which forms a part of tho 
traditionary .John Bull found any room In Sir 
Percy's mind ; but he had been Jilted, poor fellow, 
by an Irlsb girl, who had Ellen Kelly’s eyes, and 
he considered this coincidence ominous. Ho as¬ 
sured me afterwards that It It, had not been for 
my slster-ln-law's sake, ho would have sent, Ellen 
back forthwith; ho said so, but I rather doubt It. 
I have a fancy that those eyes of hers were 
pleasant, to the good old bachelor—a memento of 
his young days that had a charm of Its own. 
“Well, Ellon," he resumed after a while, “i 
have heard a good account of you, and l trust you 
will Just ify It. Though you art* but a small thing 
to be a heroine, wo all know that the best goods 
are mado up In th« • smallest packets. I am a good 
deal out, all ou account of a cvnfounded lawsuit 
which I have had In hand those thirty years, and 
I want a faithful, trustworthy servant to sit In 
this room and receive my letters. The house¬ 
keeper will give you some needlework to amuse 
you, should you need such entertainment; but 
you are to sit here from eight In the morning till 
twelve, and from two In the afternoon till evening. 
When you feel tired Just touch that bell, and 
James will come and relieve you. He Is too old 
and loo active to bear the ootidnoment—other¬ 
wise l should require no one else. And now, 
Nelly, please to mind my words. 1 suspect neith¬ 
er the housekeeper nor either of the two servaHts. 
1 have laid traps for them, and they have come 
out of the snares white as driven snow; therefore 
1 have uo right to mistrust them ; but 1 expressly 
desire you to act with as much prudence as tf 
they were one and all bent upon stealing my let¬ 
ters. In short, you may be os clvtl and as friend¬ 
ly as you wilt, but you are not to trust them. 
That will not bo pleasant-, will It, eh?" 
“ No, sir; but I know as much before coming." 
" Well, then, as 1 said, you shall alt here and 
sew. When the postman comes, go aud Like the 
letters from him. I had a box, but 1 have sup¬ 
pressed lt. N 
“ And where shall I keep the letters tf you are 
out, sir?" 
"In your pocket, my deal*; and do not let a 
soul lay a linger on one of them till I come In, aud 
you hand them to me.” 
“ Very well, sir." 
“ That la all, my dear. You have relatives, 1 
believe." 
" Mother and my little sister, sir." 
“ Do you expect any letters from them ?” 
" Mother can't write, sir, and my little sister Is 
only seven.” 
" Neverthelees, you expect to hear from them 7" 
“ We have a friend, sir,” replied Nelly, blushing 
a little, “ a sort of relation of ours, who will let 
me know how mother and my little sister are 
getting on.” 
“ in plain speech, you have got a sweethearts „ 
don’t deny It," 
“ 1 do uot deny It, sir,” replied Ellen, rather 
warmly; “ we are to bo married as soon as ho has 
saved a little money to set up business on hla 
own account," 
“Quito right; but my object In putting all 
these questions to you Is simply this: when your 
sweetheart writes to you, you are not, If you 
please, to read tho letter, but simply to hand It 
over to mo." 
Ellen turned crimson. No, she could not do 
that. She was very sorry to disoblige Sir John, 
but she could uot do that. 
“ But my dear," he argued, with a smile, “ 1 
have uot tho least wish to road that young man's 
letter, and as soon as you have handed it to me, 1 
shall give it back lo you. 1 trust you with all my 
letters: cau you uot trust me with oue of yours 
now aud then ?" 
still Ellen demurred. Ger letter was her own, 
and It was plain that Ellen wished to do with her 
own what she pleased, and bo Bubject to no one's 
control. But Sir John was tlrtn, or, If you like It, 
obstinate; and, after some hesitation, and with 
evident reluctance, Ellen yielded. “ Mind, you 
give me your word to obey me In all theso Injunc¬ 
tions.” said Sir John. 
“ Yes, sir, l do.” 
“ Well, then, repeat, them for me.” Ellen did 
as she was bid, and she wont through the series 
of Sir John Percy’s behests with a precision and 
correctness that pleased him highly. 
“ The housekeeper shall show you your room,” 
he said, ringing the bell; “and, when you are 
rested, you cau begin your iluttes." 
Tho housekeeper was a very Bour-looklng lady, 
and, having little oause to bn pleased with the 
step sir John had taken, she treated Ellen with 
a superciliousness which the girl had the good 
sense to Ignore. She had come to nil a difficult 
position, and It was useless to quarrel with Its 
Inevitable troubles. Presently she came down In 
a Ulao print dress, with plain white collar and 
sleeves, looking so trtm and neat that Sir John 
was quite pleased with his new acquisition. Ho 
made her sit In tho bow-window which command¬ 
ed a view ot the street door; he again rang for 
Mrs. Long, und requested her to provide Ellen 
with some darning or mending, or making, as Bho 
pleased, ana, having seen this order executed, 
and Ellen’s little hand dive Into a deep basket 
and come forth with a pair ot hla own stockings, 
ho left her, chuckling and rubbing his hands, 
with a " Now wo shall see.” 
But ulus! what was glee and hope to him was 
darkness and tribulation tu Nelly. This gloomy 
London parlor, looking out on a gloomy London 
street, rilled her heart, with desolation. She had 
parted that, mornlug with the widowed mother; 
with the little sister, and with tho true-hearted 
fellow who had loved her for years so ralthfully— 
she had left, thPtn all for this strange place, and 
this strange house, and oh I when should she see 
them again ? Not lor six months, perhaps ; per¬ 
haps not for a year. She had done all that for a 
little money, tempted by sir John Percy’s liberal 
wages; but It, was hard, very hard, und Nelly felt 
It, keenly. But a postman's knock came to the 
door. Up jumped Nelly, and away ilew the 
dream—lane, lime-tree, nightingale and all. She 
went and opened It; three letters were put in 
her hand, and, closing tho door carefully, Nelly 
went up with these letters to sir .John, who hap¬ 
pened to be within. 
“ All right,” he said; “ but 1 am afraid It Is not 
all right," he added abruptly. "You have been 
crying. Have these women already began wor¬ 
rying you ?” 
Hotspur was up and ready for war, and Nelly 
hastened to assure him that no ono had said a 
word to her—In fact, that, she had not seen a soul 
since he had loft her In the parlor. 
“Then what are you crying tor?" he asked, 
loosing injured. 
“ I parted with them all this morning, str, and 
this being the first time, and the first day, too, It 
seems a little bard." 
“ It Is hard,” confessed Sir John, “ but time will 
comfort yett, or at least enable you to bear It." 
In her quiet way, Nolly said she hoped so, and 
sho went back to the parlor and to her darning. 
Poor Nelly r she soon had other troubles besides 
those of separation and remembrance, Tho 
housekeeper, the cook, and the housemaid com¬ 
bined to make her life wretched. Mrs. Long 
found fault with Nelly’s sewing, and was bitter 
on the subject of her darns. The cook said noth¬ 
ing: "Deeds, not words," doubtless was her 
motto; but she made It, a rule to make Nelly eat 
what she disliked. Nelly hated fat, and Nelly 
got none but fat meat. Nelly disliked Yorkshire 
pudding, and Yorkshire pudding became a rule in 
sir John's kitchen. The housemaid, too, would 
not be behindhand. It had been her duty to re¬ 
ceive the letters and tu attend to the door. Not 
being now allowed to do tbe ono. she loftily re¬ 
solved not to do the other. But Nelly, who had 
been quiet hitherto, and scorned to complain, 
now rebelled, and showed some spirit. It was 
contrary to her Instructions to open the door to 
any one save the postman, tor he might corno 
whilst she was showing u visitor up-stalrs. She 
laid tho case before Sir John. Hotspur flew into 
a towering passion, and threatened cook, maid, 
and housekeeper with lustant dismissal, if they 
ever meddled with Ellen again. Nelly had not 
been loved before, but now she was fairly hated. 
I fancy hers was no pleasant life, sitting darning 
stockings in that grim old parlor, taking in let¬ 
ters, and feeling herself detested, In tue regions 
below us well as tu tho housekeeper's room above. 
But, If his Rule mahl looked rather pale and mel¬ 
ancholy, Sir John was In tlp-lop spirits; ho had 
not lost a letter, so he said, at least, since ho had 
had Nelly. “The dearest little Janltress that 
ever was," he said, *' and true as steel, sir. They 
laid a plot to get her away trom the door, but 
Nelly came and told me all about tt. And I gave 
them a trimming, sir, by Jove, 1 did 1” 
A month and a day hud Nelly been with sir 
John when tho postman gave her a packet of let¬ 
ters ouo morning. Nolly’s heart beat as she look¬ 
ed at them. There was ouo tor her. it had the 
S--postmark upon itbesides, Nelly kuew the 
wilting. Now, thoro la a shy, delicate Instinct In 
a girl's love—a feeling that makes her wish to 
hide what she is nut ashamed of. Nelly longed 
to slip that dear letter Into her pocket, and not 
let Sir John have a look at It. But she remem¬ 
bered hor promise, and went up with It us woll as 
tho rest, “ Oh t one for you," ho said, detecting 
the stiff, round haudwrttlug at once; there's a 
good girl, I shall not keep you in pain; go down 
with It at once." Nell obeyed. She had a warm. 
Impetuous little heart, I suppose, despite her calm 
face, for she was no sooner out ou the staircase 
than sho broke tho seal and road her lover’s epis¬ 
tle. But alas! uo dear, no glad, home fragrance 
did that little sheet of paper enfold; nothing 
came out of It but the dreariest and (he saddest 
nows, sir John had not got hall through his Qiut 
letter when the door of his study opened and 
Nelly broke in upon him, pale, distracted, and 
hor open letter In her hand. " I must go, sir,” 
she cried, “ I must go at once. My mother Is dy¬ 
ing—she Is dying, dying.” 
Sho seemed beside herBelf with grief. Sir John 
took up the letter she had dropped, and glanced 
over It. Yes, sure enough, Nelly’s mother was 
dying, and asked to sco her daughter “once 
more.” 
“ Of course you muBt go,” he said warmly. “ I 
cannot spare you to-day, but you shall start to¬ 
morrow mornlntr.” 
“To-morrow, sir; will death wait till to-mor¬ 
row? I must go now—now.” 
“ My dear child, I am to be out all day, and I 
expect a most Important letter, and James, poor 
fellow, 1 b lying ill in bod, as you know—I cannot 
spare you to-day," 
“ Sir John,” resolutely Bald Nelly, “ I shall go 
to-day. I am sorry to disoblige you; but I shall 
go." 
" Hotspur had a great deal to do to keep his 
temper down,” said Sir John, when he told me 
this, “ especially as the little ohlt’s black eyes 
had Just a lurk In them which I remembered 
rather too well. Howevor, I remained quite 
cool, and alt I said was: ‘Well, Nellie, I have 
servants to obey me. and not to have their own 
way. I give you a month's warning from this 
very day.’ ” 
“Very well, sir,” composedly replied Nelly. 
“ I am sorry to have annoyed you, but I cannot 
help It.” 
Hotspur deigned her no answer, and Nelly 
went. 8- in within two hours of London by 
rail. It was three o’clock when Nelly reached it. 
Sho had to walk a mile from the station to hor 
mother’s cottage. Her road lay along the very 
lane in which she had wandered with her lover a 
month back; but how sad and changed was Its 
aspect I Its June beauty was gone. The hot 
July sun had scorched It. The hedges were white 
with dust; tho trees looked athirst for rain; the 
sky was grey and lowering, and tho beautiful 
country seemed sad and plague-stricken to poor 
Ellon. “ I felt sure, sir," she said to me later, 
“ that my poor mothor was dead." 
At length she reached the cottage. Her band 
shook as she raised the latch and entered. Her 
lover was the Orst person whom she saw. He 
came forward and comforted her with a word. 
“ Alive, and better, Nelly.” 
“ Better J" If he had said “ cured," Nelly’s Joy 
could scarcely have been greater. She cried, she 
laughed, she kissed her little sister, her mother, 
her lover, Mrs, Dering, a kind neighbor who had 
come In to nurse the sick woman. She could 
have kissed the ground In the gladness of her 
heart. Yes, the poor woman who had been dying 
tho day before was better now, and, what was 
more, the doctor felt sure, from the turn her 
comolalnt had taken, that she would live. This 
glud news Nelly’s lover gave her outside the cot¬ 
tage door, for the Invalid was too low to bear 
much,—[Conclusion next week. 
BEWARE OF LIGHTNING. 
How to avoid Danger during a Thunder 
Storm. 
Undbk what conditions Is damage from light¬ 
ning possible? and what are the means by whloh 
the risk may bo lessened or avoided ? An Iso¬ 
lated tree, standing either upon a wide plain or 
upon an eminence, is obviously likely to deter¬ 
mine a lightning discharge, to “ attract the light¬ 
ning," to use a common expression. The top 
ot the tree ts tho nearest point to the cloud, and 
since the tree Is a better conductor tUan the air, 
a lino drawn vertically through It to the cloud 
marks the shortest and oastest course along which 
tho electricities mny pass. II, when the charged 
cloud arrives directly over this point, the tension 
1 h sufficient to overcome the resistance along 
that line, a discharge will take place, and the 
tree will be struck. But if the tension be not 
sufficient, the cloud will pass harmlessly over. 
Hence It appears that a person standing during a 
thunder storm bonouth a tree so situated, is ex- 
pored to some risk. On no account, therefore, 
should a traveler take refuge under an isolated 
tree; generally ho will do well to avoid Its neigh¬ 
borhood altogether; but should he be overtaken 
by the storm when on a plain with no shelter 
near, tho tree may still be made to afford him 
some protection. It be take up a position new 
It, but not under Its branohess, he will probably 
escape unhurt, should the lightning descend up¬ 
on It. 
Tho safest distance from the tree 1s that which 
Is equal to la htght. To approach much nearer 
than this Is to Incur the risk of being within the in¬ 
fluence of the stroke; to remain at a much greater 
distance away is to piaoe ono's-self tn the same 
condition of isolation as the tree itself, it wiu 
have been remarked by all the observers of the 
phenomenon that whenever a tree has been struck 
by lightning, It has generally occupied an lso- 
solated position. In describing the position as 
one of Isolation, however, it is not meant that 
the tree Is necessarily atundlng alone, but that 
It la not one of a numerous group. When there 
are many trees together their collective conduc¬ 
tivity Is oftou sufllclont to cause an Indestructlve 
discharge of electricity. This la especially likely 
to happen when the trees are wet with rain, for 
then their surfaces are covered with a Aim of 
water, which la a good conductor. For this rea- 
noo, the danger from lightning Is muen le«s after 
a rain has begun to fall than before, whon every¬ 
thing Is dry. It appears, therefore that the saf¬ 
est situation during a thunder storm Is In tho 
midst ol a wood, particularly If the neighbor¬ 
hood ot the tallest trees be avoided. In such 
a shelter, the traveler uiay take refuge In full as¬ 
surance that he will there be effectually shielded 
from harm. The greatest risk of Injury from 
lightning Is undoubtedly Incurred by persona 
traveling across a wide anil vory Oat plain, bo- 
