iments of her sex, "'tis only the hacienda de Ribelass." ""Tis as Frank says, heaven, and you its reigning divinity," murmured the enraptured lover, as he gave to each an arm, and led us into a dimly lighted hall, in which was spread an inviting repast, of which I partook plentifully, while gathering a detail of my friend's adventures of the night. A sketch of my own was briefly given, when my wounds were dressed, and ere the sun showed his disc over the eastern mountain's top we were in dreamland, encountering all our recent peril over again. Day had far advanced when Captain Harper aroused me. "Well, what now?" I grumbled. "Do you never sleep any? If your bones were as sore-" "O, nonsense, you can stand it long enough to lend a hand at making a long splice, so up with you!" But ere it reached him, all Rio was thrown into consternation by the assassination of his excellenza, Don Carlos de Soto, who was stabbed to the heart on the plaza in the presence of scores of pleasure-seeking Janeiroans, at vesper hour. The assassin was seized on the spot, and proved to be a political enemy of the government, which had condemned him to the mines, from which he had escaped to execute his revenge. This unexpected event turned the scale in our favor, and when Captain Harper and his happy bride reached the city three days later, the former was courteously though coldly received by the alguazil, who refrained from any comments at the time, being probably too deeply grieved at his late friend's fate, and exercised regarding the manner in which his vast fortune was disposed of. But that riddle was read ere the week was out, when Captain Harper paid me a visit on board "A long splice! What do you mean? We the Annie, exclaiming, as he wrung my hand: aint at sea, nor aboard the Annie." "No, but we are in the hacienda de Ribelass, and I'm to be married to its mistress." "Married, the deuce!" I was out of bed in an instant. "That's it. The parson and bridesmaids are waiting." And then, as I assumed my guerilla garb again, he briefly told me of the senora's uncle, the Fra Eusebeo, who was a sworn enemy to Don Carlos de Soto, and had arrived at the hacienda that morning, already aware of his niece's flight from Rio, and overjoyed to find her where least expected, had won the history of her love, and sought her lover to learn his desires, and tell him if he would he might be happy. We sought the little chapel attached to the mansion, where Wilfred Harper falsified his vows to the fair Annie Herbert, and became the husband of a Spanish bride; but having learned how well they loved, I could not blame him, and so performed my part without the utterance of reproach. Three days later I entered Rio, and made my way to the mole, where I signalled the barque for a boat; but none came, when, after waiting an hour, I went off in a shore boat, to find a Brazilian official in possession, and all intercourse with the shore prohibited. 'Twas only by dint of much persuasion, and an ample bribe, I could obtain permission to board, when I coolly rejected his suggestion that I should return ashore again. He begged, prayed, coaxed and threatened, until, convinced that a Yankee mate was not to be frightened he desisted, while I wrote a hasty note to our consul, stating facts, and begging his interposition to prevent my arrest and return to the mines, of which I had cause to fear. " 'Congratulate me, Frank, old messmate!" "Why, what the deuce has happened now? I thought you couldn't well find room for more." "So did I. But there, I'm just the luckiest dog alive." "Has old De Ribelass relented in full ?" "Ay, and more-" "Made a will in your wife's favor, then?" "No; but old De Soto did. Left her his whole fortune, bless his old bones! I can afford to forgive him for his unblessed love, since to him I owe the richest as well as the loveliest bride in all Brazil." "Whew! Then I may shift my quarters at once?" said I, jocund at his good fortune. "Ay, and comfort Annie Herbert, if you will, when you get home. I'd take it as a favor, Frank." "Thank you. What man in his senses could wed her, after enjoying the society of the angelic senora?' You forget I made a trip to the mines with her." "O, fudge! I'm not jesting." "Nor I, only quoting from your text-book. But I may think the matter over, and propose when I reach home. · Quen sabe."" Scarcely a day passed while the barque remained in Rio, that I did not spend a portion of it in the society of my friend and his beauteous bride, to whom I laughingly sketched her husband's inconstancy in his presence one day, when with a saddened countenance she demanded: "Did she love him, senor, think you?" Too late I saw my error, when I endeavored to heal the wound by responding : THE DIAMOND MINES. should lose him, and to me, for I-" The fervent kiss she pressed upon his lips was a most appropriate closing for her sentence. She did indeed love him much, and when we met to say addio, charged me with rare, rich presents for the forsaken maid, "Some return for the lover she had lost." They were worth a little fortune, and received by Annie Herbert with smiles, undimmed by tears. It must have been their intrinsic value that increased her selfesteem, and steeled her heart against all my advances, averting my intended (?) proposal, and rendered her an object of interest to a Mr. Cwho wooed and won her, barque and all. Wilfred Harper remained in Brazil; but still remained American, serving our government for a term of years as resident consul, nor, so far as I have learned, has he ever regretted his trip to the diamond mines, and the issue of his last love adventure. LAWFUL REVENGE. Many years since, a gentleman in Newington, a parish of Wethersfield, Connecticut, who was a very religious and conscientious man, married one of the most ill-natured and troublesome women who could be found in the vicinity. This occasioned universal surprise wherever he was known, and one of the neighbors ventured to ask him the reasons which had governed his choice. He replied, that having had but little trouble in the world, he was fearful of becoming too much attached to things of time and sense, and thought that by experiencing some afflictions, he should become more weaned from the world, and that he married such a woman as he thought would accomplish this object. The best part of the story is, that the wife, hearing the reasons why he married her, was much offended, and, out of revenge, became one of the most pleasant and dutiful wives in the town; declaring that she was not going to be made a pack-horse to carry her husband to heaven.-Connecticut Herald. FRENCH ROYAL WIVES. The "Dublin University Magazine," in commenting upon the lives of the royal and imperial wives of France, states that there are but thirteen out of sixty-seven on whose memory there is no dark stain of sin. Of the fifty-four others, eleven were divorced; two died by the executioner; nine died very young; seven were soon widowed; three were cruelly treated; three were exiled; the characters of three were very bad; and the prisoners and the heart-broken made up the remainder. Twenty, who were buried at St Denis, since the time of Charlemagne, were denied the rest of a grave. Their remains were dragged from the tomb by the revolutionary populace, and then flung into a trench and covered with quicklime. FEAR. NAGASAKI. Nagasaki, in that part of the world where centuries are counted small fractions in the lapse of time, is a modern city. The city lies along the water's edge, and spreads upwards between and among the hills-broad, steep hills-from a thousand to eighteen hundred feet high, sparsely wooded, but green to their tops, and strewn with stone and shapeless masses of calcareous rock. The greater part of the city lies in an ascending valley, between two hills, spreading on either hand some distance up the hillsides. Three considerable rivers issue out of the hill gorges, and disembogue themselves into the bay. The rivers, swelled to an unusual volume by the long rains, were roaring over their rocky beds, whipped into creamy foam. A few rude flouring mills were driven by the swift-flowing torrent. The dams were a few boulders, tumbled into the stream, enough to divert a stream of water through a wooden sluice against a breast shotwheel. It was the first mechanical application of water-power I had seen in Japan. Each mill had a single run of small stones, driven by the simplest arrangement of cogs. The bolting was done by two sieves, one of which was moved by water and the other by the miller's hands, and to which the flour was carried by hand in wooden buckets. The quality of the flour was fair, making a dark but sweet bread. The streets of Nagasaki have the convenient width and cleanliness of the approved Japanese pattern, and are bordered by the usual neat cottages of one and two stories, the quiet shops, and strong fire-proof warehouses, with hard-finished white walls and overhanging roofs of dark and white tiles. Many of the streets are long handsome avenues, of two and two and a half rods wide, with a smooth, well-beaten and ever cleanly-swept roadway, in the centre of which is a stone pavement of a few feet in width. Japanese side-walks are always in the centre of the street. The situation of the city assists to good drainage, and everywhere pure water from the hills was flowing down the stone channels of the street gutters, imparting to the whole city a refreshing cleanliness and salubrity. The hills are so steep that houses and temples are ranged in tiers, one above the other, like the seats of a theatre. The floor of one house is on a level with the roof of its next lower neighbor, so that one might sit on his own garden-wall and look down into his neighbor's smoke apperture to inspect the family cooking.-Correspondent of the Tribune. SAVING TIME. farm, as was generally the case in our forefathA clergyman, who had a considerable of a ers' days, went out to see one of his laborers, who was ploughing in the field, and he found him sitsaid he, "would it not be a good plan for you to ting upon his plough, resting his team. "John," bushes while the oxen are resting?" John, with have a stub scythe here and be hubbing a few a countenance which might well become the divine himself, instantly returned-" Would it not be well, sir, for you to have a swingling-board in the pulpit, and when they are singing, to swingle a little flax ?" The reverend gentleman turned on his heel, laughed heartily, and said no more about hubbing bushes.-Cambridge Chronicle. [ORIGINAL.] TO ONE I LEFT BEHIND. BY FANNY FIELDING. Shall we two ever meet again, My loved but distant friend? Our lives, once like a tangled skein, For none can fill thy place to me. Our childhood's days too soon were o'er, And we shall meet-O nevermore, Or wander where the little rill Now many years have passed away We spoke those farewell words for aye, From vows of love I turn away With heartless seeming smile: For treasured deep in memory's cell, But often little whispering thoughts That we shall some time meet again Beneath yon starry dome: When ne'er again by wind or tide Shall I be parted from thy side. [ORIGINAL.] THE DOOMED BARONET: -OR, JANE MORTIMER'S REVENGE. BY DR. C. L. FENTON. PARIS is a very pleasant, gay and fascinating city. The man who has plenty of cash to spare may find abundant opportunities of spending it, even though he possess the purse of Fortunatus, and let his temperament be what it may, need never lack amusement, while he who has but little money to spare, may-when he has once learned the way-live more comfortably and enjoy more pleasure with a little money than he can in any other great city in the world; but with all its attractions, Paris is a very slippery place. We speak plainly; we do not allude to the temptations which may lead the weak or unwary to slip from the paths of virtue and morality; but we mean downright slippery. With all its boasted advantages, Paris possesses one of the most wretched climates in the world. It is the light, airy construction of the better portions of the city, and the easy, cheerful, perhaps frivolous character of the better class of the population, the gaiety of the shops, the variety of amusements, etc., which constitute its charms, otherwise its climate is infinitely worse than that of its great rival city, London. The latter city is sombre on account of the, often ungainly, substantiality of its buildings, and from the dense atmosphere created by the coal smoke; but it has not the burning heat of Paris in summer, nor the chill, damp frosts of Paris in winter, and, taking into account the vastly greater number of pedestrians that crowd the streets of London, compared with those of Paris, London streets are certainly more cleanly, or were at least, under the Bourbon and Orleans regimes, and it then required the skill and firm tread of a posturemaster to perambulate the streets of Paris after a fall of sleet or snow in the winter season without falling half a dozen times in an hour's walk. But why should I complain? It is to the slipperiness of the streets of Paris that I am indebted for a wife. Perhaps, but for the lucky chance which enabled me to save a lady from measuring her length in a puddle of muddy, halfmelted snow, I should still be in a state of single blessedness. Everybody knows that Paris is world-famed for its medical schools. It is as essential to the good fame of a physician that he should be enabled to boast of having finished his studies in Paris, as for an artist to spend a few years in Rome and Florence; so, after I had quitted college, and received my diploma, commissioning me to write myself M. D., and to kill or cure, as the case might be, with due authority, it was considered by my friends that I could not expend the few hundred dollars which came into my possession on coming of age to better advantage than by passing through a course of instruction at a French medical college, and "walking the hospitals" of Paris. "It will be such an opening for you," said one friend. "It sounds so well," said another, "Doctor S, graduate of the Esculapian College, of Paris!" And nothing loth to a short sojourn in the gay city of which I had heard and read so much, I packed up my carpet bag, and started for Europe forthwith. I had been domiciled six months in Paris. It was winter time-one of those charming mornings which may be called par eminence Paris's low zero, and though the fog that might have prevailed in London on such a morning was lacking, the pavement offered no resting place for the soles of my feet, and the ludicrously earnest looks of those I met, who were sprawling about like shell-shod cats, testified to the difficulty of advancing. I wended on my way to the hospitals, however, with many internal execrations, until I found myself immediately behind a lady whose figure displayed peculiar grace, and the spirit, demon, if you will, of curiosity, suggested that it would be desirable to obtain a view of her face. You will meet almost as many foreigners as French women in Paris, that is to say, on the boulevards and principal streets, and so far as grace of figure and poetry of motion are concerned, the French women yield to none on the face of the earth, except the females of the south of Spain; but we presume there are few French people among our readers-at all events, as impartial chroniclers, we must write, few of the French women are beautiful in feature. They are surpassed in that respect by every continental nation-far surpassed by their English island neighbors, and by the American. You may safely presume, if you meet a very beautiful woman in the boulevards of Paris, that in nine instances out of ten, she is English or American, and if young, under twenty, and classical in her style of beauty, that she is American. I pushed forward, when suddenly the lady placed her foot upon a more lubricated spot than common, slipped, and I do not know precisely what she might have broken, had I not interposed to save her, received her in my arms, broken my watchglass, and lost my heart. I thought her the most lovely creature I had ever seen-remember, I was but twenty-three years old—and as I replaced her on her feet, for which courtesy she thanked me in delightful English-French, I thought I could do no less than offer my escort to her home, as the streets were so very slippery. It was accepted. What we said to one another on the way can concern nobody, and as the lady is now my wife, the disclosure would be particularly impertinent. It is sufficient to say that she informed me she was an Englishwoman; that she resided at the Hotel Montmorenci, and that her guardian, with whom she was travelling, was Sir Edward D. In fact he-Sir Edward-had been to Florence, at which city she had been finishing her education, and they were now on their way to England. As I left her at the door of the hotel, she placed a card in my hand. It was inscribed "Miss Emily Seymour," and a second card, which she also handed to me bore the name of "Sir Edward D, Baronet, Hoxley Manor, Cumberland." In pencil beneath the name was written "Montmorenci Hotel, Paris." an "Ah," I muttered, as I walked away, orphan, and the ward of a baronet. Wealthy of course, perhaps nobly, at all events, aristocratically connected." Rather high game for a Yankee medical student to aim at. But when did young love stop to calculate chances? Especially when the lover was a Yankee. Does not our republicanism render us the equals of any aristocracy on earth? Are we not all sovereigns? Did not Miss Patterson wed the brother of an emperor? A parvenu emperor, to be sure; but, then, more than one American lady wears a coronet on her brow, and graces the saloons of the English and French aristocracy, with a countess's title prefixed to her name. Why should not the tables be turned? Why should not an American sovereign wed a titled English lady? Perhaps, after all, the lady might not be of such lofty lineage. At all events she was young and beautiful, and at that period youth and beauty were, with me, charms paramount to wealth, or all the titles of a Spanish donna. My profession-I had told her I was a physician-gave me the right to call and inquire whether she had received any internal injury from her fall. Indeed, I fancied she looked as if she expected I would call, when she bade me goodby. If she had been a French woman, she would have said at once, au revoir (till our next meeting). But those English are so formal. I did call, and the garcon, after I had sent up my card, requested me to walk up stairs, telling me that, le sieur Edouard would be glad to see me in his rooms. I ascended the stairs and was conducted to the rooms by the garcon, who left me at the door. Sir Edward rose, on my entrance, and expressed his particular obligations for the service I had rendered his ward, and requesting me to be seated, entered into conversation upon the general topics of the day. He did not appear to be more than thirty-five years of age, and yet I was puzzled to account for the deepened furrows on his brow, and the somewhat haggard, careworn aspect of a man of his position; for the evening before I had hunted the booksellers' shops for an "English Baronetage," and had learned from the book that Sir Edward D- — was born in 18-, and was just thirty-five years old, and that he had succeeded to the title and estates-the latter yielding a rent-roll of £12,000 per annum-on the death of his elder brother; and I thought a young baronet, with twelve thousand pounds a year, certainly ought to be free from the troubles and anxieties which imprint their mark on the visages of less-favored mortals. He was, however, a finely-formed man, of commanding presence, and of noble figure, with a piercing black eye, which lit up a countenance, which might have been justly termed handsome but for the haggard, thoughtful, clouded expression I have referred to. After a short time, Miss Emily came into the room, and entered into conversation with us, after having repeated the thanks of the previous evening. I enjoyed a very pleasant visit; both Sir Edward and the young lady appeared to feel great interest in America. The former was a member of the British parliament, and was then getting up a variety of statistical facts relative to the United States, and I presume he fancied I could be of service to him. When I rose to depart, he expressed a hope that the acquaintance thus commenced would continue, and I fancied the glance of the young lady said the same words. I bowed, and said I should be most happy. Sir Edward invited me to dine with him on the following day, and I left, much gratified with my visit, and if I had been stricken the day before, I was now over head and ears in love with Emily. Sir Edward and his ward remained in Paris about a month, and when they left for England, the baronet expressed a hope that before I returned to New York I would visit England, and make either his town house, or his country seat, Hoxley Manor, my home. main near Miss Seymour. I will spare my readers my love story-such things are commonplace-it is sufficient to say that Miss Emily was a young lady of good family, and though not an heiress, in the usual acceptation of the term, would become, when she reached the age of twenty-one, the possessor of a snug little fortune of £8000, in her own right- $40,000-a very pretty help to a young medical student, without money, just beginning in the world! We had been much together, perfectly understood each other, and it was settled that she would become of age and my wife on the same day, with her guardian's free consent. I will pass over the twelve months that intervened between our engagement and this happy period, merely stating that I had taken lodgings in a first-class boarding-house near St. James's Street, in conjunction with a young but already rising barrister, with whom I had formed an intimate acquaintance, and of whose character and abilities I had formed the highest opinion. Sir Edward used frequently to drop in upon us either on his way to or return from the House, and sit and chat for an hour before he returned home, if in the latter case, for he was a bachelor, and time often hung heavily on his hands. One evening he was announced as usual. A newspaper was laying on the table, which he took up carelessly, remarking : Any news to-day, Mr. ? What do they He glanced hurriedly along the columns, when something arrested his gaze. He appeared much agitated, rose and went to the window, and read and re-read the paragraph, passing his hand once or twice over his brow, as if to assure himself of its reality. The next moment he threw down the journal, and taking up his hat, wished me a hasty farewell-my companion was not at home Of course I visited England after this; indeed, I did what otherwise I should not have thought of-I entered into an engagement with a London physician to attend a course of study at St. Thomas's Hospital in that city, so that I might have an excuse to prolong my residence in England, ad libitum, of course taking private lodg--and said as he was leaving the room: ings in London. Within six weeks after the baronet's departure, I was in London. The House of Commons was then in session, and Sir Edward and Miss Emily were residing at the town mansion of the former, in St. James Street. Both were glad to see me, and notwithstanding the difference in our social position, I was soon on terms of intimacy with them, and through them with several of the nobility and landed gentry, who visited at the baronet's house. Sir Edward had taken such a fancy to me that he urged me to commence the practice of medicine in London, promising me his influence, and I thought it an excellent opportunity for a young beginner, especially as in that case I should re "You may not see me again for some time. I must be off to the continent immediately." The next moment he had quitted the house. I took up the paper to endeavor to discover the paragraph which had evidently so disconcerted him; the mark of his thumb nail had been violently impressed against the following lines, an extract from a French journal: "The body of the English gentleman, Mr. Davis, who disappeared so mysteriously about a month ago, has been found by some fishermen, in the lake of Como. It is supposed that unfor tunate gentleman had been bathing, and had ventured beyond his depth. The body was only identified in consequence of his name being on some shreds of clothing, supposed to have been a portion of his bathing-dress." |