Mrs. Reed's eyes flashed for the first time. "I never allow any one to trifle with me," she said.

"Neither do I. Will you be so kind as to look to Uncle William. He may need you. It's quite time for me to be down town. Good morning. I will dine at the hotel, to-day.”

Mrs. Reed made an ineffectual attempt to speak again, but Philip closed the door of the breakfast room very unceremoniously, and stalked through the hall into the street.

For a whole hour, the anxious mother walked nervously up and down the breakfast-room, thinking of her undutiful son, and trying to devise a plan by which she could bend his stubborn will. None occurred to her, and, in consequence, she grew more and more flurried and troubled, till at last she was in a perfect fever of excitement. A servant came into the room and cleared the table, but she did not notice; another came and replenished the fire; again the door opened, and this time her uncle made his appearance, equipped for a journey. Her eyes brightened. "Are you going, so soon?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm going down on C-Street to stop a few weeks with an old school-mate. Don't fret about me."

“0n_C

Street?" repeated Mrs. Reed. "Let me see, what is your friend's name ?" "Halmer-Mrs. Halmer!"

"Has she a daughter Lizzie ?"
"Yes."

"What in the world put it into your old head to go there!" exclaimed Mrs. Reed, quite forgetting herself. "I'm sure you are welcome to stay here as long as you please, instead of going there. Does Philip know anything about it?" "O yes, he proposed it to me. It's very pleasant and comfortable. Call round and see me."

No, not there; but haven't you been a little hasty about this? Wouldn't it be better for you to remain here with me?"

A week passed away. On the morning of a bright, cheery day, Mrs. Reed sat alone in her elegant boudoir, her feelings quite out of keeping with the cheery splendor around her. She could find no pleasure in anything she heard or saw, so strong and deep was her anxiety for her son Philip.

As she sat with her hands folded before her, looking steadily into the glowing fire, there was a hard ring at the street door, followed by a rustling of silks along the hall.

"Good morning, Mrs. Reed," began a voice, at the same moment that her door was thrown open. "I thought I'd call around and see you. How pale you are looking !"

"Why, Mrs. Wells, I'm glad to see you," said Mrs. Reed, rising and extending her hand to the bustling, portly little woman.

"

'Yes, though for my life I can't make anything very straight of it. Annie Weston gave it to me an hour since. Well to begin with, there's to be a wedding-a splendid wedding-at our church at ten o'clock !"

"Indeed! Do you know anything of the parties?"

"Nothing at all. That is the queerest of it. It seems that a rich old gray-beard has made a poor girl-poor, but very, exceedingly beautifulhis heiress, and that she is about to marry into one of our highest families. The young gentleman's people idolize her, and are perfectly insane with joy. O, I suppose it's a grand affair. Wont you dress, and drive down to the church with me? Be as expeditious as possible, that we may get a good seat. O, I forgot to say that the old fellow-the one worth the money I meanis fitting the young couple up an establishment

There is to be a great wedding supper there tonight. Be spry as you can, Mrs. Reed. There, let me assist you in tying your bonnet, I think we shall have ample time. How much I do enjoy this! Don't you, Mrs. Reed ?"

Mrs. Reed said, "Yes," and buttoned her furs up closely about her throat, while she was speaking.

"Isn't it funny that there are no names out?", asked Mrs. Wells.

"Very funny, indeed!"

"O, the old man is so very rich! People never knew half about it until a few days ago. There, step right into the carriage. James, drive as fast as you possibly can to our church. Indeed, I do enjoy this so much, Mrs. Reed!"

"O my good heavens!" exclaimed Mrs. Wells. "Isn't this really splendid? Your son. And as I live, it's your uncle who is giving away the bride. Don't faint, please! What a veil she wears, do look, just a moment. Isn't she beautiful? What a lucky woman you-don't

"It is said, too," burst out Mrs. Wells, again "that the old gentleman has been treated rather shabbily by some of his wealthy relations, and that he takes this very quaint way of revenging himself."

Indeed!" was the faint reply.

"Do see the throngs of people in this street. How it has been noised about. I don't care, I shall insist on occupying my own pew at any rate, even if I have to turn the governor out of it. I'm sure we shall see the most beautiful bride of the season, Mrs. Reed. It lacks just half an hour of the ceremony."

The carriage stopped before the church, and the two ladies alighted.

"Follow me; I will make a way through the crowd," said Mrs Wells, elbowing her way along. "I shall certainly find my way to my own pew in spite of everything. Isn't this delightful."

Mrs. Reed thought it was anything but this, yet she was too polite to disagree with her friend, so she smiled, and held fast to her bonnet with both hands, saying, " Very delightful!"

The seat was reached at last, thanks to Mrs. Wells's inimitable perseverance, and two or three misses very unceremoniously elbowed out of it. By-and-by the crowd grew still and expectant. Mrs. Reed could almost hear her own heart beat. The half hour was most gone. Would the wedding party ever come? What made her tremble so? She was thinking of Philip, poor, anxious mother! She wondered if he was there. She looked about, he was nowhere to be seen. He might be in another part of the church. She felt almost sure that she should see him. There was a heavy rumbling of carriages in the street; a pause at the church door; a stifled whispering rippled through the crowd; the rich, solemn tones of the organ broke out upon the air, in a grand

anthem.

Mrs. Reed kept her gaze fixed upon the broad aisle. The party walked slowly along to the altar. Of a sudden Mrs. Wells felt the grasp of her friend fixed firmly upon her arm. But she could not take her eyes from the bride to learn what troubled her.

"My son Philip!" gasped Mrs. Reed, sinking back in her seat and clasping her hands over her eyes. "What a terrible mistake!"

And you didn't know a thing of it!"

The bridal party turned away from the altar. The organ, as though a pulse of joy was beating at its great heart, gave out peal after peal of grand delicious melody. It fell upon the ears of Mrs. Reed like a dirge. She had made a mistake. She had turned a millionaire from her door, and-lost!

REMARKABLE AFFECTION.

In one compartment of the cage in which the animals perform, at Van Amburgh's beautiful menagerie, in Chestnut Street, is a huge, tawny Asiatic lion. His room-mate is a black female tiger. The tiger is small compared with the regal lion, but is highly valuable as a zoological curiosity, and the only specimen of the black tiger in this country. She was purchased by Mr. Van Amburgh some two years ago, and has lived with the lion ever since. The attachment between the two is something remarkable. When other animals are in the cage, and any affront is offered to the little tiger, she runs under the belly approach her. No matter how hungry he may of the lion, and woe be to any animal that dares be the lion never touches his share of their daily meat until his little chum has selected her share, and even this he never entirely consumes until certain that she has had enough. All the animals are as fat as moles, but this black tiger is aldermanic in her proportions, and no remedy exists for the matter. She has been twice removed from the lion, but until she was returned the generous beast would take neither food nor rest, while the frantic manner in which he dashed at the bars was sufficient warning that the further detention of the tiger would be a dangerous matShould his mate die, the lion would prob ably pine to death. Once when she was taken away, a lioness was substituted. The lion instantly fell upon her, and at a single bite broke her spine and crushed some of her ribs. Careful nursing saved her life, and she is still living, Philadelphia North American. but with her hinder parts immovably paralyzed.

ter.

A MELANCHOLY TRUTH.

A man of genius consumes one portion of his life in painful studies; another in addressing his labors to the public; in the last inconsiderable remnant of his life he, perhaps, begins to enjoy the public esteem for which he had sacrificed its solid consolations, his fortune, his tranquillity, and his domestic cares. Amid the funeral cypress, he sees the green leaves of the laurel. He he is carried from the trenches in an expiring resembles a veteran soldier, who, at the moment state, receives the honors of promotion.Jean Paul.

[ORIGINAL.]

THE MARCH OF CRIME. A MEMORY OF THE TOWN.

BY WILLIS E. PABOR.

www

Murder with crimson hand has stalked

Abroad at noonday and at night;

The blood-stained with the pure have walked, And Wrong has seemed to master Right. Lame-handed Justice on her seat

(With few exceptions far between) Has seen the links of guilt complete, Yet found a way that guilt to screen. Corruption in official ranks,

And evil counsel holding rule,
He who resists has little thanks:
Fewer he who becomes a tool
To civic power-and near and far
Drifts the miasma of the hour;
A bribe the gates of justice bar,

And flattery hath boundless power.
And to what end? Rapine, and Theft,
And Lust, and all the passions, take
The place that Innocence hath left,
Her hiding-place afar to make.
O, hasten the auspicious day,

When life, though high or low, shall be
Safe under the propitious sway

Of Civic Truth and Honesty!

[ORIGINAL.]

THE MONARCH OF MUSIC.

A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE.

BY JOHN ROSS DIX,

Author of “PEN AND INK SKETCHES," ETC.

UPON a beautiful morning in the month of May, 1762, a little girl about eight years of age, and a boy about two years her junior, descended the vine-covered banks of Kohosbeez, at the foot of which murmured and flowed the pure and rapid waters of the river Moldau, which loses itself in the ancient forest of Bohemia. Instead of dancing on their path with all that lively gaiety so common to young people of their age, these two children held each other by the hand, and walked slowly along, with thoughtful brows and downcast eyes, and the gravity of years stamped upon their faces, yet all the easy grace, candor and simplicity of childhood was observable in their countenances and motions. Their dress announced the poverty of their condition. The little girl's robes were faded and worn, while those of the boy were patched with cloths of different colors at both knees and elbows. Nevertheless, poor though they seemed, it was easy to perceive that a kind and attentive mother had

hastily combed and braided their long, fair ringlets, and had washed their delicate hands, and handsome, intelligent faces, thus investing poverty with its chiefest dignity and grace-that of personal cleanliness. They held in their hands each a large piece of bread, upon which from time to time they cast their eyes without venturing to eat. When they had reached the foot of the descent, and were about to seek shelter beneath the green boughs of the forest trees, the little boy broke silence.

"Did you remark, my sister," said he, with a sad voice, "in what manner our mother gave us our breakfast this morning, and how she sighed when I said, 'Nothing but bread again?""

"Yes, brother," replied the little girl, shaking her pretty head, and sighing, "she wept. I saw her tears and her look, which seemed to say, "There is even no more bread in the house, so you must be content.' But why do you weep?" added the little girl, suddenly melting into tears at the sight of her brother's emotion.'

"I weep because you do," replied Wolfgang, in his turn; and then he added, "I grieve, too, that I have not bread enough for my breakfast?”

"Poor little thing!" said his sister, kissing the tears from his eyes, and fondling him as if she had been twenty, and not two, years his senior, "you are never without some great grief. But, come, let us wander below the green spreading branches of the trees, and pluck the little flowers that peep from the clustered grass that grows beneath them, and you shall eat what bread you have, and we will wreathe our brows with blossoms, and forget that we are hungry."

As she spoke, Frederika led her brother into the forest path that skirted the margin of the Kohosbeez, and began to cull the wild blossoms from the banks, and to laugh in the fullness of her joy. High overhead towered the ash, fir and elm trees, and golden sunbeams struggled through their openings, and fell upon the mossgrown stones, and wild foxgloves, and trefoils, and ferns, that clustered by the river's side, The songs of the birds came echoing from the far recesses of the deep greenwood, and fell upon the ears of the children like heaven-attuned harmonies, until the soul of the little boy was stirred within him, and his lips quivered with an undefinable emotion.

"Frederika," said he, in a soft whisper, as he turned his large blue eyes towards those azure spots of the serene sky which could be seen through the shady foliage overhead, "Frederika," said he, as the flowers dropped from his hand and his face assumed a devotional character, "what a sweet place would this be to pray in."

"True, Wolfgang," said the child, struck by | her brother's earnestness, "but for what, and to whom will we pray?"

"We shall pray for some means to make my mother smile oftener, and my father to seem less sad, and we shall ask that poverty may go from our dwelling-place, and leave us happiness instead; and we shall pray to God who lives in the blue heavens which you see yonder through the dense leaves of the forest."

"And he will listen to us," said the little girl, joining her hands, and kneeling with charming simplicity upon the ground, while her brother bent down at her side. "My mother says he always listens to the prayers of children who love their parents."

And she closed her beautiful eyes, and exclaimed, in low, solemn tones, while her brother's voice mingled with hers:

"O, give us the means of being useful to our parents."

As the little boy and girl kneeled upon the soft green grass, and uttered their filial aspirations, the sunbeams fell upon their closed eyes and spiritualized features, as if they loved to do so, and the eyes of a man who was concealed by the thick foliage which surrounded the spot where they knelt, shone on them too, with such an expression as an angel might wear if it listened to such silvery voices. The man was of lofty, noble stature, his countenance was mild and benevolent, and his dress rich but simple. He stood silent and thoughtful, and leaned upon the tree behind which the lonely children knelt.

"Direct us how we may assist our parents," said the little boy, rising from his knees, and assisting his sister to do so also..

"We have finished our prayers, then, Wolfgang," said Frederika, as she kissed her brother's lips.

"And we have discovered the means for which we have prayed," exclaimed the boy, interrupting her, while his face lighted up with joy, and his eyes sparkled with hope. "I knew we should discover some way of assisting our parents."

"And what have you discovered, our wise Wolfgang?" cried Frederika, laughing.

"Has not our mother over and over again told us that we were good children?" said the boy. "And has not our father declared that you could sing, and that I could play well upon the piano? Now we shall rise some fine morning," said the child, with a serious air, "and we shall take each other's hands, and we shall wander far away over green plains, and by hedge paths and rivers, until we discover on our way some stately

castle; and you shall sing, and I shall play upon the piano, and the rich folks of the castle shall give us gold, Frederika,” said the rapt, dreaming boy, while his little breast heaved with the earnestness and fulness of his feelings, and his eyes shone as if with an inspiration. "I shall make the piano tremble with the most enchanting airs, till every lady who listens to it shall tremble too, and then they shall embrace thee and me, and shall give us pearls, and jewels, and bon-bons, but I shall say, 'We will have none of these; give us money, I pray you, that we may carry it to our father and mother."

Ah, what a dreamer thou art!" cried the little girl, as she kisssed her brother.

"But more than that, sister," continued the castle-building infant, with a profusion of expression and ideality uncommon in one so young,

more than that, sister, the king shall hear of us, and shall send an envoy to us, and he shall give to me a silken tunic, and to thee a robe of satin, and we shall go to the royal palace, amongst beautiful ladies, with broidered robes, feathers, silks and jewels! And I shall sit at the piano-what a piano! with wood bright as a looking-glass, with silver pedals, and notes of pearls and diamonds-and we shall play till the court is ravished with our music, and then we shall be caressed and embraced, and the king shall demand of me what I wish, and I shall answer, 'What the king pleases,' and then he shall give me a castle, and send for my father and mother."

A burst of laughter interrupted the recital of the bold young piano-player, who, looking fearfully, first at his sister, and then quickly from side to side, perceived the stranger, who had listened in his concealment to every word which had been uttered, and now seeing that he was discovered, he approached the children with a smiling countenance, exclaiming :

"Do not be afraid, my children; I will be an envoy to you."

The innocent children looked in each other's faces at these words, and then they gazed at the stranger.

"

'Ah, well, so much the better," cried the boy, "if you are, you have done what I wish, I hope." 'No, no," said the stranger, seating himself upon the trunk of a tree, and placing Wolfgang and his more aged and bashful sister before him. "I shall only grant what you desire upon condition that you truly answer me the questions I shall ask, and I shall know if you lie."

"I never lie," said the little boy, proudly.

"I shall see whether you do or not," said the stranger, smiling, and patting him on the head. "What is your father's name?"

"Leopold Mozart," said the boy, bowing. | "He is chapel master, and plays upon the violin and piano; but often on the violin."

"And does thy mother still live?"

"Yes, she does, and a dear mother is mine."
"How many children are there of you?"

The little boy shook his head, as if he did not know, and remained silent, while his sister modestly replied:

“We are seven in all, but two only remain, my brother and I, the rest have all died."

"And your father is very poor, my dear child?" said the stranger, in a kindly tone, to the little girl.

Ah, yes, very poor," she exclaimed, while the tears started in her eyes. "Look," said she, holding up the piece of bread which had yet remained untouched, "that is all the bread that we had in the house this morning, and when my mother gave it to us she bade us go in the fields and eat it, for it grieved her to see us fed so poorly."

"Poor children, where do your parents live?" "Above there, upon the hill, sir, in that little house whose roof you can perceive from where you stand," replied Wolfgang.

"That house belongs, I know, to Dusseck the musician," said the stranger, looking up. "And now tell me," he continued, while he patted their cheeks, and smiled to them, and at the same time wiped a tear from his eye, "tell me what you asked, when I saw you praying, a little ago?"

"That we might discover the means of gaining money, and assisting our parents," said the little girl, quietly, "and my brother declares he has discovered these means, although I much fear that he has not."

"If Wolfgang is able to play well upon the piano, as he said, his idea can be put in operation," said the stranger, smiling, and I can aid him."

"My brother is only six years of age," said the little girl, looking fondly on the boy, "but he can compose very beautiful pieces already, my father says."

"Compose! and he so young?" cried he, as he looked half doubtingly on the child.

The home of Leopold Mozart, which stood upon the hill of Kosobeez, and overlooked a ovely landscape of cultured hills and dense forest, and rolling river, was not a very great house, nor was it superbly furnished. One large apartment served as many purposes as possible. The principal chamber was kitchen, dining-room and parlor. On one side was a lofty chimney, with stewpans suspended on the inside thereof, the other side was occupied by a piano, over which, suspended from the wall, hung a violin. In the centre stood a table of black wood, and surrounding it were several seats formed of straw. As the children entered this humble apartment they were met by a young woman whose neat and clean appearance bespoke industry and order, but whose face was indicative of anxiety and care.

"And wherefore are you so soon returned, my children?" said she.

"Hillo, Wolfgang and Frederika returned so early from the fields!" exclaimed a man at the same time, who had just followed them into the house, and whose handsome face, intelligent features, and easy carriage and language but ill accorded with his humble, threadbare raiment. "And what curious sights have you been seeing this morning?" he repeated, fondling the boy.

"Curious enough, I tell you, my dear father," said the child. "We saw a messenger, and what a messenger! He had such a figure as you see in a picture, and the air of a king.”

"And did he speak to you my boy?" asked the chapel master, smiling.

"Ay, that he did," replied Wolfgang, with an arch expression, "and he will be here soon after he has sent dinner, and when I begin to play a sonata on the piano."

M. Mozart could not restrain his laughter at the excessive simplicity of his little boy, and placing him on his knee he exclaimed, in a tone of raillery:

"And shall he give you anything else but dinner, Wolfgang?"