Vclvortixinpf ItntcH. TtelsrceeDd ri-ll anle ctrcultitlon ot tbe (' hpia Ki'Kj star c n n ni it to t tie tnvorsMe slderst ion I s.1veitlt-,-is. w lmse l.vor Hill te tM M rliO l tne toll, win low rater: 1 iDOb, S time. .................. tlJ4 1 I moattit. iJf I 6 mooUis.. s.o 1 " 1 year f month Coo J 1 year - le.O t mofitlu. 0 7 jiinlirin :s irrMMnan, 1, mkilibH Weekly at UE.Nsiintr.. - - - rr.NN'A. 151 JA.UF.S . 1IaSSO, ili.nt.-tl Circulation. - l'.'OO. tl 'Fi A -A&v LiCV 4 A U v ' i i i H iK v-i ! n m wm i - MW SOSSCRIPTWS KATES. S 1 year ool'n 6 mmha...... ............... ........ 6 months n. a . . ai mi 1 T U " 1 year.. "V S moLbs. " 1 Tear Tb0 Knstcef Items, erst Insertion loe. per lie ; eaeh Btiseqaant ineertton 6. per line. Almiaitrtr l anl tzecator'i Nf Jes M Auditor's Not toes J StrsT tnd slmllsr Notlmi ......... 1M fsT" woiiotm or prtxrrilrnq of mn 9 rorjioratim or toartv .J rrfmuniafumj ttn lo call tttnt flow le ar uffT 0 tnUeJ or mrftt-uZuu ir.fr as MUf s jxttti fat as aVtrerrfsnaears . Job Psim-me of all kinds neatly and eijf onsly execated at lowest 'irle. . Icn't too fTi tt. ,- .a, ' 001 y-'-i - - .r j Oo ao - . a . if not i)i u wnum m- . - 'f VI a" Tho.. -. "on . n.aU tn.lr fLV u m paytnii tn adanee mast not e. " ', , TwYd on the same toot' n who tts fact toe distinctly understood from is furwrd. nn itnn It. If -ton JAS. C. HASSON. Editor and Proprietor. 'H IB A nUIMlM WHOM THE TKUTB MAUI VKll, AND ALL IBM 8LAYKB BBBIDK.' 81. BO and postage per year In advance. NUMBER 11 VOLUME XXIV. EBENSBURG. PA., FRIDAY. MA Y 2, 1S90. m I a scaiwa 1" j JlJiJL m a (Mm 1 r-5 " & B. Q). IsauilDressCooils FOR SPRING. Ia lhii departments we are offerlnii for its month's hu-int a ureal many unusual tines an 'I bara.it . Write our Mll f)rdir Deprtrnnt for mplo ol amttiliiit tn the Urv Good Hue U may be specially lnter sted :u and tiet e besl fur the leat .:utlav. 00 Incb Murines ui dark eolortnu, checks. Id sirtp !" cent t5 Ihoh All Wool Tricots and Cloths, 23 'tits. ;. 3fi trcb American Novelties. checks.stripes d p Id J5 wnts. AO InnB 'o:ch Cr-evlot. In beautiful as irtrr.ent of vsrl.ms ahaie i.f irrey and own atriiuw 50 cent a varil : all-wool id worth rrnulnrly 73 Cent;. Extraoidl try valne. ' rMe , nxr.lute Suttiniis, 40 rents, i' J iinoftt-d Novelty 50 cents. ' All-Wool " 73 cents. In btW ine Umest a-ortnitut of special ilaasii Wo l Strt'iiKs, s5 cents to 73 iBts, tver pliiced on snle ill any one store. ' SILKS. Plain anrntis. lit in,-h-s wide. Jjn.r 24 Inctws wide 7.V, worlti XT' ce-ilv 24 lo'ies wiile, f I nry he!l u-. mis made. Xew Clieviot 'Miks In SDrinij colorings. leeks ami -.tt'iie-. '.10 rents. New Aostrisn troths, all Silk, entirely BW fanrlc, f 1 00 a jnrd 50 pieces ruii nd A r inure. 11 Inches wida . ceDts, t -t coiots ; "(:s nide to sell at .25, and undoubted v the Kreatenl Silk iritain evei o'd New Fille Krancalsse, Summer Silks, abntat Silks, India S.'k -tc, etc . at ire lower than such qmiiitit-s are uuaiIv Id at. Our Spring Catalogue and FasMon utnal now readv free upon ri quet. If your Mime wss on our maiMo Ms for 89, a BOpv of this cAtalomie ill !h- mailed o a.'a If you did not receive a ropv list "ar, write name atut Hildreos ott a postal id teov will be mailed. Mail order busl ta B lea J in (ealure. jOGaS&BUHL, ALI.nGIIENY. PA. : Vr. lacs, ' ' w'i. old )ha, so meat Ox D;mM, R.-ionmi to covin tm skt. 0 nan TM t.NO of voca siATat It L LY lUVUS TMB BAXTIU Ttnd for .ilustrntcj circular ta -illRET, Jit., & CO., PHILADELPHIA. i. ., , ' "" ' ' " 1 - . I .1 perl...-l :M i.m, KN(ii.Ksv;',i;;; r ai .n-Ur l .u , lljy 1'ifrn. n,l FARQUAR CO.Llmltot,- ..e Wtk.- v 1 ' K K PA f - wm tMnV.R 1 ' e.. r. - -, .: l'ru" st- N'w Y""' n ii i i i'r,,p"i iim ! V A TTOKN KV- T-liAW i.ur, p oieoe in tiuiMiar ol T lllr.I (), .' i'r.tr street. .'"-U in. 1 " "J .atut.fr I . - f f 71 I - ' .V k . m PEOPLE'S STORE, FIFTH AVENUE, PITTSBURG, PA. HS. - SILKS. - SILKS. Tlrt ob want Bnvthlna In Silks ? litre's th place anJ oow' your time. MXKr"nn dBBitU 8naJ. 50c,.rd. A uperior quality, over 70 dlf irent baiif. 73c. Colokki) tlnos Grains, ."0 75o Bnd 00. SATll:HAiKtE. ?ry shade. K.c and ?l j" PtAHl InpTAS. n-wpit designs. 50c, 75c and Jl 00. Cla Thtn Straus, for Mi-t 00 and 1 25. STRir and Plam M-itAHK, for Mlw, Me. vard. . Ch" iCK T niMMtNiiS a.nd CuxiUNATtON SiLks. In Stripes. Plaids. Moires. Petslaru and rocadea, from SOc up. . ...i. Do ya want a nic- nr.ACK Silk DitEss o a fw yard for Using ap ? All oor i:i.A( k Sii.ks are Kuarantmd. It anything happens we II make It good. We wp ni tin- lv..r'U wear-i-uwr doi'n ixnl ones. Priro for xxnt wearm Diack SUk 75c to IJ.00 a yrd. The favoritea aie fl.00 and : 33. Triminu Vki.vets. 40 d.ffrut enadfS. PLCSHl s. all col'TH and qualitte.. Silk Fi ni-hkh VELVKTtK 5(V. ..'. 73i and S7',e. TbroBrf " 'ir well conducted Miiin l),dartmut you can get samplei and see what p. wtot OkIcih promptly filled Vorirr. -T'lo.uh we rttva wpuplfd thU pi- to tell jou aoout S.Ik. rirn rab-r w v th hnr-t Dres i..o,lr., Suit and Wraps. Ctrpet and Curtain Departments all very HBpletB. Corn and ee u or write for what you want. CAMPBELL & DICK. LUMBER IS ADVANCING. SAW-MILLS, STKAM ENGINES, hHlNULE MILLS. HAY r"KKSSK, Ac If ynu want a t'l rl- ! IW MII.I n,l t,-r I-' .tlou. ami ecit price to lnlroUuve Q your se.-tma to A. U.IAKCirAK, (Limited;. York, Pa. LILLY lilSUR&HCE & STEiMSHIP AGENCY. I'lKE INSURANCE AT COST. PDLlflEi IS!tEt INtlOon KELIAPLF. t'MPA M1S AT VEKY Lu WESTU ATES. STEAMSHIP TH 'KETS SOLD AN Ir;iKArTS ISSfEIl PAYABLE IIALL.FAKTS E El KOPE. f . I i. ZInlln, Agent, LILLY. CAMHM.VTO.. PA. February It, IS'jJl ly. ROBERT EVANS, UNDEBTAKBR, AlfU MANlTPAOTrHEK OF and dealer la all kinds ol J UKNITUUE, lilten is liif, Its. rA toll Una ol Catkets alwajs on haod.-fcB Bodies Embalmed WHEN KEtiVIKEU. api -J sa g-t A SOLID C&TEEL FENCE! made or EXPANDED METAL CCT movf WTECL PLAIES. S0MET.1NS NEW. For Residences. Chubohfs. Cewrrcshis. F.sms Gakocns. Gate Arbor.. Window Caards, Trclltim, lire-proof PL4STtKI LATH, DOOR ITS, Ar. Write fur Illustrated Catalogue: mailed free CENTRAL EXPANDED METAL CO 1IH Water St., 111 t.lnrch, 1W. Bard are Ana kctalu Give aamc ot thia paper MXTM MRlilT, PITTkBl . PA. I the (re.t ralleae of H inn.M Offlres. wh.re all the tir.nbesnt aenmpleta tiuiness ediiritloa ara Utaeht be Arm. I bailor. Preetlee. The aly tuemtier 'rom Peosa. of toe Ioi.r-St.te HaM rr pnictice A.soei.tion ol A in. rim." 1 h. sta ll. nt If. nr. Ixv-k heepine and business b n. 'In la bnslnek. tr.ns.ct. on., praetkal Otnon Wurk 4ad Hunkirig are specialties. Iq1i. Ideal in.triicti.m. I rum U A. M lo 4 T. . and tmsa t to H r. m The test advantages In S.hor'hen.1 and rriewrltlna-tbe hlichael .paej Id the shortest tune S.o.t fur nUlmui 'all mm moo the .ledeal. 'at werk when ymn al.lt rie r.apwalllwa. la. era always w.ls.m. J AolES I LAhK WILLIAMS A. M , PreslaeaU -Elys - CatarrH rieaasra lh. ! raaiafss. kllaya Psilw aw IsiBlasasnsis .es, Ileal aore I y p. Messaew sr Taslr aiel Sine 1 1 USA. I Try the Cure. HAY' ER JLTrilT1 J". pf 'J ,nu, "k "e-tiils aod la rei.tr.t. Svi ela. ELY HKiKSM Warren St., .w iora. NATURE'S CURE FOR CC!!ST1PAT10H, A klLliSI t M. un. Vr Mr. K I'ar Teral4 Ll.ee. ilea N.atfarhe, test! trees., Tarraafa irrrvearael tlt.r .)M-rieiit l Is Pertain la Its ef?eU It I. K.nUe la lis aeti. n It I. (.aUteable ta the taste. 1 1 r.a be relied put to rum, inj It eurea I j aseuriae. not by oatrasr leit, aature. 1m uoi take l leol puraati.es your sel.e. or allow jour chil dren t take thawi, always use this tlwisl phar niaeeuiieal preparetloa, which lias been A Mi : 1'SrEPSlA. than lorty years a public l.ront. .Vsa u.uli e- - iT-n i I ' " i 1 ar- s-.jSe MIRIAMi Tie Romance of Heatlerleicli HalL By Makda L. Crocker. COPYBIOBX, 1S89. "I only wish to see them a moment," he apologized to a hint of conscience, "and Miriam wouldu't care." The two little ebony cases contained jewels also, as well as the more pretentious caaket, but whether they were the property of Miriam or not lie hod do means of rind ing out. They were very costly, however, and must have been prized very much by the happy possessor, whoever It might have been, Allan thought, as he held up to the light an exquisitely wrought bracelet, with little forget-me-nots clustered at the fastening. These shall be her wedding present from the Hall," he said to himself, sarcastically. Then he dropped them, shimmering in the light wandering through, the white dimi'.y curtain, as if they had been serpents. What if they carry the maieilicrion of our Inferual old ancestor!" he questioned. half aghast at the mental suggestion ; '"every thing about the cursed place, I verily be lieve, bears the brand and feels the taiut! I came near losing my senses under the baleful influence myself, and only a few hours there at that. These have lain for years in the desolate gloom, aud the price of a soul mar be their cost!" lie shoved the shining heap from him with a gesture of horror, and aat looking at the contents of the third box orcae. What ever It was was wrapped in a little silken scarf. Allau reached over and touched it gently. Oh! here is a slip of puper at tached to it," he said, growing iut-resr.,l In the delicate pa kag-e, and suddenly for getting the giaiuor of a horrible dread connected in his mind with the gUttei iu jewels oppoaila Dim. How his heart throbbed for an instant as he recognizi-d Miriam's delicate, yet firm writing: "My baby curls; Miriam Perci val" Oh!" he said, half rapturously, "when She, my darling, was a little, care-free girl." Unrolling the scarf, he held in his pa. in a long sukea ringlet, tied with a bonu.e blue ribbon. A look of happy satisfaction beamed from his dark eyes. "My Miriam's curls," he said, tenderly, "cut from her dear head before the shadows gathered . i i T' i. v Hi ss.i-. ' " .-i.sT" i. i "THESB SHALL BE HtH WEDDING PRESENTS. over her path; cut, doubtless, by my aunt's fingers, now crumbled to dust, Lady Per civai !" He rolled up the curl carefully and re stored it to its case. A kindly emotion stirred the depths of bis soul, and a dreamy expression softened his features. "Perhaps," he mused, "perhaps these jew els are my darling's, ulso; and, if they are, no h:irm caii hover ever them." The slht of the ringlet had softened and rendered mild the whole atmosphere, and he gathered the bracelets and their accom panying necklace up with a far away, pre occupied air and shut them in their eiegant cases with a sigh. CHAPTER XXVIIL It is May, and a beautiful day, with a symphony lingering iu the fragrant air. Miriam is out among the rosebuds that beautify the clambering vines as tiiey wait for the breath of Juue to unfold their glory. And, instead of the pale, pinched expres sion on her iei-fect features as la the win ter, the flush of health and may I say hap piness? yes, happiness, creeps into her oval face, where the dimples of her girl hood are still visible. Miriam Fercival Fairfax has outlived the crucible years of her life; the darlt chap ters of her strange history are Ix-ing fol lowed up by bright, golden pages, fragrant with the love of a blissful, happy summer to be. 1 had a difficult task, indeed, to persuade her that the dream of seeing Pegy and of hearing her eeeming prophetic words woui.l all come to naught- But I fancy, although she declares yet at tunes that "it means something to Come," her faith iu night visions Is on the wane. But the roses bud whro last year the rue grew darkly luxuriant, and th smiles, the rarest of all rare things then, are slip ping gradually iuto Ucr days. Some time ago sue came to me with her fine voice a.l a-trcmble, and wandered to me if I "thought it would bo roer to wear colors I" I looked at her a motm-tit; the somber crape folds had growu to be iden tical with Miriam. I should not have kuown her, I thought, without then. but U n 1 ng, sorrowing j eara for a young hcurt to turi.b beneath the garb of mourning was euough , who could aak morel Then, too, mourning aa of the heart, not the baniiimeuts aito 7 'ther, and if this lone woman Las found a a.'ver lininp to the heavy clouds of her heavenswhy not! "Ve," I said, "perfectly proper, dear, see ing that Allan is coming " Then the smiled one of her rare, perfect n.i;ca. wLicfc ran neither be forgotten nor Jeerribed. and Said she "should go dowu to the city and make some purchases." Sir little puss; did she imagine that I, who had placed the part of a detective for a Iweltremoutb or more, could be bood winkd into "soring fashions'" in this man ner If she did, she has reckoned without .or hfMl, as I mentally rile a weddiug day -oinewhere aj.nvu this golden nuiiiiuer; a i-i feet day iu June.no doubt, as May is w.i.ii.g. Ah! yes; niethinks 1 hear wed- lu.g-bel.s, and their clear, sweet music is harmony with the sy niphony of t he day. B it Mirtatu. A couple of letters lying in v r lap bear foreign post-marks, and she ha. been reading ttiem softly to herself, iuilu,g the while, as if the contents were pic.iug in the extreme. ( 1 he of l, gray texture of her dress he .hose f;ry fur afu-rn.xm costume, but there is a beautiful wuiie satin folded away ami 1 a cloud of contly lace f ir another oc casion -fails from h-r queet.ly f gure iu full folds, and she looks every mei a Veritable uueen; this stately, proud daughter of the Percivais. "Heutherleigh is in the past," she savs, turning her head, with a smile which is half joy, half sorrow. The house of the ) t ereiva.s nave nothing more in its somber shadows Mo; no more, forever P Soidr I "es; tiu-pused of," si.e uustvers. look ing away seaward. The fair f.i-c flushes t.d p iie fli fultv. There is a st long tide of nieiuury surging up fn.in tho ua-t ; a thou sand tle.iiirals are euui.ug t. the front for recx.gumoii, and t: is sale to aay they uro 1 J t V . not pleasant ones. I work away on my embroidery and fin ish an impossible grape cluster in smoky purple without pretending to offer any thing further. Suehttungs are best thought out in silence, I have learned. So we sit an hour in the soft, sweet weather without a word; she looking seaward aud down at the letters alternately, and I attentive to my embroidery, with an occasional glance at her face. She will speak presently, and tell me what she is thinking about. I have known her long enough to know this, and work away, awaiting her pleasure. "I have sent to the Hall for a few things," she begins, just as I expected she would; "and if I am happy enough to get those the whole place known as Heutherletgh may rest for aye uuder the curse of Sir Leon Heatherleiph, for aught I care." Her face flushes crimson, then pales like a lily; she is still revengeful and pasaiou ate iu her hatred of the HalL I had thought she had forgotten the old, desperate days, but she has not. I do not answer; I have no words. I scarcely ever have when Mir iam towers up in speeches like this, and she relapses into another reverie, as disa greeable, perhaps, as the first. "Peggy Clarkson never told you," she be gins agaiu, "of a certain night's work of ours, did she hers and mine" Her face assumes a look of mingled pride and defiance, and she smiles a little as I answer "No." "I thought she could be trusted, even unto death," and her eyes filled with tears, in memory of the deceased servant. "Now after it is all over and done with, I will tell you our little secret," she said, confiden tially. "Well," I answer, folding my hands over my work, preparing to listen. 'My mother," continued Miriam, "had a beautiful silver service of her own, and be fore I left the Hail 1. witn feggy s assist ance, hid it away, with several other things of value, including my mother's jewels. We stoned them all away in a recess behind the book-shelves in tne library, taking the mid night hour for our work. Sir Kupert" (she never calls him father) "had forgot ten, I thin a. the existence of the secret cup board; and as it was closed by a sliding panel, scarcely visible when closed, I do not doubt but that they were found just as I put them away. I hope ao, at least," she ended, with a sih. The p.easaat, cheerful look comes into 4 ner race once more, and slie stoops ant ao seutly gathers a dozen violets at her feeL Tnere is something more she wishes to tell me, so I wait. This is the last of May?" she speaks, in terrogatively, and I answer: "Yes, the very last days of the spring." A crimson Bush sweeps np over cheek and brow, and "Allan is coming," she con fesses, sweetly. Oh 1" I pretend to be surprised, happily so; but I was certain he would come loug before this disclosure. But it does my soul good to see the happy love-light in her beautiful eyes and to bear her confession, so 1 reach over and press a kiss of congratulation on her rose Hushed cheek, and say : "I am so glad for you, Miriam, and for Allan, too." 'I was sure you would be," replies Miri am, looking at me wistfully, questioumgly. " Whalis it i "I ask, intuitively knowing she desires to ask me something from which, f T some reason, she shrinks. "Do you suppose Arthur would care!" The question came scarcely above a whis per, and her face takes on a look of fright ened, painful inquiry. "No," I answer, decisively, and give her a look of incredulity. I can scarcely believe my ears. "Would Arthur carej No, Miriam, he would not; so rest contented. T ynu suppose that Arthur would be so Kc!h rs thtit " I ask. She answers By a negative shake of her head, which brings one long, glossy curl down over her heaving bosom, but she does not speak. Kvidently I have alluded to the dead too abruptly. Well, I have never un derstood the strange, beautiful woman be fore me thoroughly, and what might please anybody else would, likely as not, fall dis astrously across her thoughts. "You shall be married here at the cot tage," I. say, making a bold attempt at turning her mind from the mournful past to the future with its promising outlook. "My poor little cottage has never known a marriage, a birth or a death," I add. plead ingly, looking straight at her for theanswer. "Your dear little home has been very lucky, then," she replies, with a far-away, sad look. I am almost out of patience with her. Why must she dwell forever on the doleful past! But she speaks. "Yes, I should like to be married here," she says. "I was married once in church, and she shivered as if the memory of it chillejl her very soul, "and I never want to have the ceremony repeated there." She fastens the violets in her fichu of creamy lace, and, gathering up the letters, goes iu, 'Allan is coming." I repeat to the ros.'v buds; "Allan is coming when you bloui," ami the breeze, sweeping tip from the sea, sighs through the tree.: "Yes, yes, yes ' "Allan is bringing M friend' with him." Miriam nestles down beside me on the sofa later and whisjiers this bit of news iu iuy attentive ear. "H it I can not imagine who it can be," she adds, in a puzzle.! tone. "A friend." and we ponder until we give -P '" tie pair of even thii.king of one likely .0 come willi him. aud turn to discussing the preparations necessary for tin l.a;i y event of her wedding Now that she has spoken to uie and I know that they are to be united, Miriam is not reti.-ent snout speak ng of the affair at all. She talks freely of her coming mar riage, and in a short time our plans arc laid to mak it a happy, eujo.tuble event; and in our devotion to the details of the future fvaliviliea we furget that 4 friend" over whose uaiuc we puzzled our braius so much at first. But we are again put tn mind of it in a day or two by Allan's wntiug a hurried letter from New York saving that his friend, ha viug business in the city of New York, they had Sailed for that port, and as soon us possible they would be at Bay View. In tvv- or three days from date we mi'tit look for tlietn. "lie hat! forgotten," be thought, ,4U men tion the friend's name in his last letter: would just ay now that it was an old gen tleman who resided near the little church of All Saints near Hastings, by the name of Karle Fairfax !" Miriam uttered a cry when aho read this name; whether it was one of delight or sur prise or both, I never knew. She threw up her baud, aud, staggering forward, threw herself into my arms. "Earle Fairfax! Karle Fairfax T' she repeated. "I wonder why O, I wonder why !" 'Miriam.' said I, "dou't you want to see the old geutletuan; Arthur's uucie, I pre sume?"" For a moment she lay quite stiiL making no resoiis. Tlieu she said slowly: ''lie is a good, kind old lean; such A friend of mine such a frteud of mine!"' T he words were whispered with colorless lips and pu'lM cheek. I was sorely puzzled to know why, if he was such a good, kind friend, she felt this way at mention of his name. People don't generally grow white as death at the prospect of seeing a friend, not generally, at least, and I was at a loss to fathom this new phase of affairs. I made no reply. I simply released her, and she weut directly to her room, with the letter clasped tightly iu her nervous fin gers. "O.d memories," I said, by way of excusing this, to me, unexplaiiiabie freak of Miriam's. ' loubtie-.s his name was inter woven with sonio painful memory, which the lueri- mention of was like the thrust of adujrv-or." t . She did not come down to dinner and I did not see her until the breakfast hour the next morning. She was cheerful as usual and seemingly anxious that I should forgot the little episode of the previous afternoon. Launching off into conversation, in which 1 mmmm "a1J.ES IS BKlNoINti A miEXD W ITa UIM.' was aure mat her neart ti ad not the? lea t interest, in order to detract my attention from the pallor of her countenance, she managed to become unusually talkative dur ing the breakfast hour. "Perliaps," said I lo myself, 'she is not paler than usual, and I am yoking up yes terday's circumstance with a morbid fancy of my own imaginative brain." But when Maggie, my little nia'J. said solicitously behind my chair after Miriam had excused herself for A waik in tbe gar den: "It seems to me that the lady is ill; she is uncommon white-faced and talks sort o' wild -like, don't you think!" I thought, ah! well, then my conjecture is not al: an imaginative affair, after all But I said to the maid that "the warm weather might havesomething to do with It." "Oh! well, she 'pears so anxious like," persisted Maggie. 'I shouldn't think the weather would give that worry to her look and manner, ma'am." The maid knew that something like a shadow had fallen athwart the path of our guest, and with natural iuquisitiveness was doing her best to wring a confession from me. "Well, well, Maggie," I said, finally; "letit pass, and if she is really ill or worrying about any thing she will tell us by and by, if it is proper for us to know." Thus admonished, tbe maid gave me a look of suspicion and began clearing away the breakfast things in silence, while I sou?nt Miriam, deep in the garden of roses and lilies in front of the c.ittao. "Dissembling," I said, as she greeted me with a wintry smile from behind a rosc bedge, but the beautiful eyes told no tales, and the lips touched not on the friend's coming, as I half expected them to do, dur ing t ho morning. During the afternoon, while I was en gaged in the re arranging of a cluster cf stately lilies which the wind had tossed ruthlessly from their fastening, a. cab. drew up at my huu.b.e gate and two gentlemen alighted. Instinctively I knew it must be they whom we were expecting, and I dmpjied my twine and went down the graveled wa.k to meet them. Sure enough, as one of them came for ward, I recognized my aquainlance of the Heatherleigh park. As soon as ho looked up he smiled and extended his hand. 'I remember your face," he said, gladly. Then he introduced aa old gentleman, in a dark gray suit and gold-bowed clashes, as "Mr. Earle Fairfax, of suburban Hastings, Eng." "She is in there," I said," indicating the direction of the library door with a wave of my band, as Allan looked inquiringly about the little front parlor into which 1 had con ducted them. I knew she would rather meet him alone, with 110 eye to criticise or intrude on the sacre.lness of their greeting, and I knew also that she was in there waiting for Allan, because I caught theswisli, swish of her dress, aud the soft closing of the library door as we came iu. Allan Percival gave me a look of such joyous gratitude that I thought hud be asked mo to carry a thousand letters to the ends of the earth for lum, instead of one little request that he did, that look re warded me in full for every thing. Then he stepped into the library and closed the door behind him, while I did my best to entertain this friend of Miriam's, although I could see plainly that lie was very Rhxious to pet a glimpse of her, as his eyes sought the library door frequently. I was fully as anxious that she should meet him, for I had a curiosity to see them to gether; if there was any secret between hem, perhaps I might be able to guess it should I see their meeting. Alter awhile Allan came out of the library, followed b3' Miriam, whose face was a study. She seemed quite glad to see the old uncle of her deceased husband, but there was a frightened, inquiring look on her face that dared not put Itself into words, at least not before us. I not iced Allan watching her with a grave, uneasy expression, when she conversed wiih the uncle. Evidently he read the ri.idro no better than I did, and the worried look on her face set him ill at ease. I could see that Allan loved her madly, aud I said 10 myself that now, after he had crossed the ocean at her bidding, if any thiug would hapien to separate them again, it would wreck his life completely. Timi next day Allan had some letters to mail, aud he drove the phaeton dowu to the city. I had expected Miriam would ride out with him, but for some reason she did not, so he went alone. After his de parture Miriam took her nncle into the library to show him the portraits of her self aud family 'as they were once, she said to him with an appealing look. I went out to see after some lessert I had ordered for dinner and to offer a few sug gestions to Maggie, knowing that I was not needed in the library. Instinctively I felt that the portrait business was only a ruse of Miriam's to get Uncle Fairfax all to herself for a confidential talk. Doubtless It waa her privilege, I thought, and some way I felt glad that Allan was out of ear shot, and that it, whatever it might be, would be over before his return. Having an occasion to go into the parlor an hour or so after, whom should I see standing just outside the library door but Allan Percival, and his attitude was that of an attentive listener. I could not see his face, but 1 knew he heard the conversation going on in the library. CHAPTEK XXIX. H? had returned then and had come in unobervel and just in time to hear well, I h. id no l.l. a what ; only it seemed to me, all the time, that it was sometl.iug which he should not hear. "Oh, dear!"' I sighed, in growing consternation, not intending that Allan should hear me, as I was cn tne point of turning softly away, but his quick ear caught the tell-tale sigh, and he looked tip. His face was white and his 1. an. '.some, eyes were misty with tears. He put his finger to bis lips quickly to warn me into silence, but that was unnecessary ; then he beckoned me nearer. He waited me to hear also, somcthicg, perhaps, which con cerned neither one of us. I shook my head in the negative, but he only beckoned the more peremptorily and I came to his side. After I heard the first sentence, through the keyhole of the library door, I was as eager to play the eavesdropper as Allan was willing I should, perhaps. "Then yon are not sorry noio that I dashed the glass of poison from your hand just iuaiaiue to prevent your swallowing nr' It was Uncle Fairfax speaking, and a sort of exultation rang through his pleasant voice. Allan caught his breath and put his hand on the wall for support, lookiffg at me with the horror he dared not express showing through those beautiful eyes of his, now dilated with a terrified expression. Then came Miriam's full, sweet voice in answer, saying in little tremulous tones : No, Lucie Fairfax. I can say gladly that I am not sorry ; on the ot her hand, I consider that it is to j ou I owe my life." . "I never think of that night at the Rest," she continued, 'without a shudder. But I found my hoine-couiing so dark, so sad and lonesome, and bad just left Allan feeling almost heart-broken, and my own heart was aching dreadfully also, so much so that I chose death rather than to continue so. Knowing as I did that my cousin loved me, lwasauuost wua witn tne tuougnt mat 1 had caused lum such misery of soul when I could not avert iL" 'I was so afraid," 6he began again, after a pause, "that you might have mentioned it that night to Allan on your voyage, Miail vertantlr, of course; but 1 never want that he should e-verk how of the wild, heartless words I said during your stay. You re member that I -a:d I never should hsteuto Allan's suit, because I had sworn to hate every Percival, dead or alive, coming in my way. 1 think I was almost wild that night, uncle. True, I had eaid I should hale even the r.ame of Percival and despise every one in whose veins ran the proud blood of the j hotise, but that is all made nu:l by a better feeiing. S3, then, you find you lore Allan Per cival in spite of his being undeniably one of the proud family!" Allan Pcrcivai'B face blanched like death and he stooped nearer I he door to catch the ausiver, whuli meant life or dcaih to his dearest hopes and in the same tremulous, inulcii! voice it came : "Oh, yes, nncle, I fcriotr that I love him. I tried hard, for the sake of my rash oath, not to even remember him kindly, but lovo conquered at last." The tears holding in 1 - ' 1 a. to T'ir 1 or my i.irr." check in the handsome eyes of Allan Per cival drojiped down his check and he heaved a s';-h, while the g!aj ii Tit c auie stA-aiiug back into l.:s countenance. 44 "Tis well." replied the old uncle. 44 'Tis we'd there is tin mistake in so grave and im portant B matter. Your life Jus been very dark, my dear niece. I am glad for you, because 1 think you have chosen wisely, and am happy to hear that you really are iu love w.lh your nflanced husband." 'Thank you, uncle," Mii'iuin said, in re ply. 4iI realiy and truly love Allan; never fearon that noiut, as I confess that 1 should not care to live without him." Allan touched me on the arm and with drew. I followed him into the sitting-room. 'I am happily reueved." he said, as ho drew a deep aigh. "I noticed such a Strang.; look ou her face yesterday; aud to-day she refused to riJe tothe city wit-h me, pleading a headache, and. I bad begun to think tLat she was sorry she had bidden me come." 'But that is all over," I interrupted, joy fully. "Yes," he answered, his eyes lighting tip brilliantly with the sweet certainty. "Miriam loves me for myself and I am glad." He looked out across the garden and off toward the sea for some moments, lost in deep tliougnt. "Poor dear,'' he re st1 rued, with q iaver iu his voice; "how she must have suffered ! Dashed the poison from her lips! Oh, God! only to think of bow near my darling was to the gates of death:" Allan's voice died in a whisper of emo tion, and he shook as with an ague. I said nothing, but now I Rnew why she grew so white and nervous when she learned that Earl Fairfax was in Allan's company. She was afraid that '-inadvertently," as she had said, the oid gentleman had revealed that hour of auguish to her lover, and perhaps told him of her vow. Tins, doubtless, 6he imagined would prove disastrous and drive Allan from her side. "It is best," said I, upon reflection, "that Miriam never knows we heard this. She was driven to the rash vow, aud the suicidal attempt as well, by terrible and pressing sorrow, and as she had tided the days of anguish safely over at last, it is wise never lo disclose a word of what we heard at the library door." Certainly," he replied; "the secret is ours, and my darling will never know! Could not live without me," he repeated, looking up brightly. "That little confession is worth more to uie than the whole world, eve n though I did hear it eaves-dropping. Now no more shall my life be sad and lonely; neither will ber's. Ithiukwe are coming out from uuder the shadows of Ileatherleigh." It is a week later. AVe have had a quiet wedding at Bay View cottage, aud hence forth it is a house with a romanco. The neigh bors all look np-.u me as one of the favored few in having such wealthy, aristocratic friends, but I feel lonely and deserted ia a great measure. Allan Percival and his proud,qucenly wife have gone to their beautiful home on the Hudson. A magnificent country seat some few miles from New York suited their fancy, and they have left me for a little happy world of their own. A happier, handsomer couple I believe 1 never had the fortune to see. Allan's beaming face and Miriam's ioyous couuteuauce will long be remem bered, as I saw them fade into the distance this moruing. Earle Fairfax goes with them as far as the city of New York, and from thence for England in a few days. The kind old ancle that he is, gave away the bride for the second time, he officiating ia that cnp:icity in the bttla church of All Saints on t hat never-to-be-forgotten, cheer less wed ling night that saw Miriam and Arthur united in their claadesliue mar riage. But this wedding was far different. No ceremony in the deep shadows of u dimly light ed church; no going out across the lonely church-yard, pust the white, silent headstones, and dark, heavy-shadowed brasses of an English burying ground, and no flight from an angry, pursuing parent. No; the little parlors of Bay View cottage reveied in their brightness and fragrant beauty, and fairly giowod with happiness borrowed f rum t ho glorious J. ue weather and the merry sunshine for the auspicious event. Bay View cottage, that had never known a marriage,' a birth or a death, scarcely ever the coiuiug or going of friends even, plumed itself and blossomed at once into important as the house where the wealthy Englishman married the heiress of a magnificent sum, from over the sea also. No wouJcr that I felt proud of the hand some, accomplished couple. The soft, sweet light shining 111 those beuutilul t j'ca behind jiTZf ' ;- Ul'jV. 'T'- T sC. - y(v the Pliny bridal vail of richest texture' waa enough to fairly intoxicate at.y soul. And the handsome groom, who gazed with such fond pride on 1 ho regal woman at his side, was one of God's tio'oleuien, sureiy. And when they passed out, and down the miniature avenue of lilies aud roses ail aLKoom with dewy fragrance, filling the sweet air with love and beauty, 1 said soft ly to myself : "You have stepped this happy day Irom out tne snaaows 01 Heatuerieign, and forever." They will return by and by, after their little tour of inspection of the elegant home. Miriam said, with 0110 of her indescribable Miiiies: "H e will come back to you for a few days shortly; we could not leave you all at once, you know." Audi kissed her beaming face and said: "No," with a deso late, strange feehug coining into my heart. I think 1 never realized how much I had learned to love the daughter of my dear, dead friend until now. But that is the li.it t;f earth; the cycle of fortune bringing sun shine to one heart casts its shadow over an other, and although 1 miss her I say it is we. I. Allan gave Miriam the jewels and the exquisite silver tea service he brought from their far-off dark niche in the Ileath erleigh walls aud showed her the portrait of his father, which "the jolly old squire," as he called him, was so kind as to gwe him f rom out the collection in the ancest ral gallery. I wondered if the memory of her last visit to its gloomy solitude caxne back to her as she bent reverently over the face so like that of the man at her side. I fancy some thing of that trying hour flitted through her mind, for she pressed her quivering lips to the portrait and 'Whispered, haif aloud : "We meet again!"' And Allan turned away to hide his emotion whde the woman he loved hung lovingly over the face of his dead parent. I thought Miriam would wear her jewels on her wedding day, but I never know just what she intends doing until I find myself surprised by her curious notions. "I will put them by," she 6aid, with loving caress, until after awhile; they ure nil I have left from over the sea; nil I have from inerrie old England ; but they are quiUe enough." Yes, they will come back for a season and gladden my lonely home, the more lonely now since having known their bright faces, and then the elegant country seat ou the Hudson will receive them. CONCLUSION. I am alone in tho library. The casket of scintillating jewels left in my keeping is before me, showing by its ancient, exquisite ly designed cover that it is an heirloom of years. A fair, sweet face comes floating back to me from the checkered past for beloved recognition, and I hear a rich, full voice saying: "Thrh-e blessed are they who are true to the last. " I shut my eve's and bow my head in my hands iu siler. t spirit communion, fjr I realize that Lady Percival is near. As I sit wrapped in the society of sweet memories I can see in the" dim ! distance the ivy-wreathed gabies ai.d weather-stained facade of grand, grim-vis- 1 aged Ileatherleigh Hall, and the heavenly influence of Lady P. rcivai goes. The two can net aftiliate even in day-dreams. A restless, sad feeling comes ovr me, anil Peggy Clarkson 111 her white cap and snowy Vandyke stands before me, rcadii.g my tbouchts with those great blue eyes (fliers, and I beer her say: An' Oi'll uiver see rue daiiiut, the young misthrcss, agm." 1 A dark oaken staircase rises out cf the 1 shadows of a deep, wiSe, silent hall, and 1 fancy 1 see a shadowy form, ai.d henr. stealthily eomiug down the ancient steps, soft, footfalls, and 1 shudder to thin that perhaps the master of IL-atlierleigh is near. I feel in my soul that Sir Kupert is not pleased, that if he could he would seud curses dire and dreadful on the son of the disinherited for presuming to aspire to his daughter's hand. A s:gli of relief comes as I realize, too, that the disinherited have outlived and out witted all the maledictive plans and fiats of the proud, jealous ancestors; that tiie new house of the Percivals will spring grandly from the ruins of the old, and that those counted the very least in the proud, old English family have lived to be the greatest, but ou this side the sea. Something rouses me from my vision. Oh! it is Maggie flitting hither and thither, intent on putting things to rights prepara tory to settling down into the old, quiet groove of two in one house. Oh! yes, and I gaze out of the window toward the sea, showing little blue rifts through t l.e t rees, as I catch glimpses of the shore from where I sit. I can hear the rest less surge of the waters, but they only sing a deep bass to-day to the march of the world. Out there is the little garden of lll-es where a year ago Miriam used to walk back and forth, sorrowful and slow paced in her gown of crape, with her great sad. re proachful eyes wandering over its beauty in a joyless, silent way. Her face used Jo rival the whitenessof the pure, satiny bljssoms that shed their fragtance around her iu vain, and the dark shiulcws of evening vied in their soiiilKrness with the s .veep (.f her robes ns she wandered slowly aoout listen ing to the sad, hopeless story toid her by moaning waves of the sea. But to-day! and the summer brece fresh from the booming billows breathes through the merry air 11 pa-an of jnyfvl praise to Him, who in His own gout time uiak.th all things well. Ai.d the flower, sweet lipped and fragrant, nod gaily in a-qui-esoence as if to say: "We have seen her. we have seen her, and felt the magic sweep Of her bridal robes. She who used to drop tears of the deer-est anguish on our heads. and breathe hopeless prayers low to the passiug winds, smued on us to-day, smiled as an angel smhes, and has swept by on the arm of him whom she loves. We are giud, we are glad!" And the roses and lilies mingle in sweet confusion as me wind kisses them beneath the skies of June. "Across the world he followed her." sighs a voice from the summer choir, reversing Tennyson'-n duv dream, and I clasp my hands impulsively, murmuring: 4'God bless the bridegroom aud his bride!"' the tn. The Msrrh of Civilization. Perhaps no more significant evidence) of the onward march of civilization could be afforded than tho lighting by electricity of tho palace of tho guikwar of Ilarola, in India, and that, too, on a scale of unstinting 7ilondor. The inte rior Is lit with 215 sixteen-candle-powcr incandescent lights. 1 ho largo hall i i illuminated with two largn twelve-light electroliers, made in bronze and lac quered work, while the light is softened and dilTused by dioptric shades. Single lights are also pendent from the ends of the columns of tho gallery. In tho nu merous rooms aro three and four light electroliers, made in a variety of designs to suit tho surroundings. In tho bed rxins tho mirrors have. loe-n Swcially fitted with brackets, which will adn.it of their being shifted from one room to another, and an electric band-lamp is also provided, which can be moved about at pleasure. An imrHirtant feature of the installation is the complete; arrange ment of switches and safety fuses, thus tho overheating of wires and consequent danger from fire aro rendered impossi ble. Chicago Herald. The Harvard Co-operative Society has WJ members and does a business of about c0,WO a car. DESERT SAND SPOUTS. Urapliic Description of a Striking SesDs in Africa. Under the fairest skies the desert is an awesome solitude, but when a storm comes it is terrible aud appalling. I shall never forget a scene I witnessed some forty miles beyond the great pyramids, says a writer in the New Yrn k Mail and Express. 1 had gained an isolated hillock, some fvo hun dred feet above the level of the surround ing desert. Away to the west, about two miles distant, I descried six or seven lofty pillars of s .nd moving swiftly over the un duiating plain. The center one of these was vertical, and those surrounding it, at a uisiance of two or three hundred yards, leaned slightly toward it. The sand at the base of the columns was lastied by the furious whirlwind into a surging sea. Des ert trees of the hardest wood were torn tip with their roots aud hurled hundreds of yards away and l.igh up 111 to tne air; even the grass that grew in the path of that ter rible storm was shorn clean away from its roots. The summits of those columns of sand at lenjrth joined, and then burst forth from their united tops a yellow, gigantic cloud of sand of such magnitude ar.d density as to darken, as in a total eclipse, the face of t he bright afternoon sun. The sand spout, called by the natives "zohahah," shortly after subsided, but the cloud of sand and grass, which had been raised high in tne neavens, continued to oarnen tne setting sun for more than an boor. The smaller coiunin behind traveled swiftly, in creasing in size, until it readied the site of the break up, f the o: her, and then added its mite to the universal destruction. With my sextant, as I stood in security, I measured the heigut of the center column of sand; it was nearly one thousand f"et. The other columns were rising so rapi.lly that they soon reached a greater height than that of the renter column. When the junction of them nil took p ace the sudden eruption of sand, leaves and grass reached to a total height of over four thousand fe-ct. These "zohahahs" are not very frequent, but when they occur they carry widespread devastation along with them and woe betide the traveler and the tent that happeus to stand in their way. Not, more than ten yards from the column the air is perfectly calm, but within the small ciivumscribing circle there rages such a teuicst as will carry away any thing, however firmly fixed in the ground, into the regions of the upjier air as easily as an ordinary gust of wind will blow a piece of 1 aper. The camel, this wonderful ship of the desert, always knows a few hours before whether one of those approaching "zobahahe" is likely to cerne upon hi'i:, and his natural instinct w.il guide him to a place cf safety, wnere he lies down aud only breathes thei-ooi, re active current which closely follows the burning, almost suff-cnting hot an -which accompanies th'5 "zolmhuhs." Tho usual movement of these sand spouts is in the arc cf a wide- c r. ie, and the direi tiou of the center cd tic: circle is aimcst invarihly from north to soul h. When ihesv utvful turmoils lire over a:.d the disturbing elements have resumed their natural state, tae burning sa, id be comes saturated with a. heavy dew, the sun is less angry, and the African desert more amenable to life in both man nnd beasts. Nature's wisdom and wonders are indeed beyond man's limned under standing. RETTY GIRL SLAVES. How Tliey Are Bought (nd oll In the Market i.t Stainboul. There are actually at Stamboul about, ninety regular slave brokers who sell and buy slaves, or who are the medium of buying or selling. The slaves ice lodged in houses known by tho pul.lij. just as 'hey know the dealers in r.ny sort of merchandise. 'i'ho principal slavo houses are about thirty. The Abyssinian slaves are rare on ac count of tho d. lieaey of their health. An Abyssinian maiden from fourteen to seventeen ii worth from fill to 120 liras ;i lira is worth alout IS shillings), but a handsome one is sure to bring :j.0i liras. White slaves (Tcherkos) are more abundant. Maidens from twelve to fifteen arc quoted from flo to Si to liras, and those from sixteen to twenty from HO to 1,000 liras. The prieo varies according to bc-auty, size, complexion and accomplishments. Singers and musicians generally bring a good price. Many people) hero buy slaves for legal marriages, preferring them to Turks. The reason is that a slave has no rela tions (mother-in-law especially ), an i, therefore, no visitors or callers. She endeavors to please her husband. She is olK-dieiit anil economical, and ery affectionate) even if pretty well treated. Many slaves would not leave their masters for tho world, but many others would lx too glad to obtain their lil erty. Some are well bxikod after, well cared for, richly dressed and havci costly jewels. They dino with their lady and ares treated as companions and as mem bers of tho family. Among tho possr-ssors of slavos who were the most noted for tl eir kindness and iM-nevolenco was the lato Princess, Ze inotib Ilinoum, tho daughter of tln first Viceroy of Egypt, Men-met Ali. During her lifetimo she gave monthly allowances, from two to fifty liras. to each of her slaves. Sho had some eighty of them married to respectable ge ntlemen, and gave to e ach a dowry of from 1,000 to Alli.OOO. lloforo her death, three years ago, she niado a will grant ing freedom to all her slaves and dis tributing to them valuable presents and settlements. Thero are hundreds of young girl who aro sold to persons who sell them or exchango them for others of greater In-auty. It is revolting to see to whit extent slavery is encouraged hem, and how many of these poor creatures would like to fly away fremi the brutal ity of their masters, and how many others are exported against their will. In general, (slavery here is the curse of the: country. Constantinople Cor. Lon don News. i Origin of the Word t ht-Htiuit." Mr. Joseph Jefforson some tune ago gavo this as tho origin of the word 'chestnut:" "In an old hiolodrair.a by WiHiain IHU.m, called 'Tim llr.ken Sword, are two parts Count Xavie-r and his servant Pablo. The Count i a sort of Munchausen, fond of telling stories of his exploits. Ho tells one; One.! I entered tho forests of Col'.oway when suddenly from the troughs of a cork tree' 'Chestnut, Count,' inter rupted Pablo. Cork tree, said tho Count. 4 A chestnut,' reiterated Pablo; I should know as well as yoa, fori have heard you' tell tho story twenty seven times.' Tho late William War ren, who had played Pablo often, was at a men's dinner once, when a gontleruan told a story whoso ag" and originality were far beyond nuy doubt. "Chestnut. murmured Warren; I should know as well as you, for 1 have heard you tell it twenty-seven times. Tho guests to..k up the: expression, and from that," buys Mr. Jefforson, "I believe tho expression 1 really cuiues. "'. Y. Sun. nil
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers