aca x PUETASSING OF THE CLOUD. “em came a cloud over yonder hill When the wind was muttering low, Wound and white as the sails, that fil When the winds o'er the ocean go. Aud the skirts of the cloud were snowy white, But the heart of the cloud was black; Aud the sunshine fled, and tne trees fright Mermured and bowed them back. Aad the cruel North wind whistled shrill, Aud the South wind sebbed in turn, & a the East wind slirieked, “Come down and kill?" And (he West wind signed, “Return ! Wet the cloud gave heed to sob nor cry, But swept over hill and plain; Fhe cloud wens by in the broad blue sky, And the sunshine came again. SITS ————— ——— THE THO ROBERTS in ———— Singing softly to himself, rode ‘over dale and over im Se sweet stillness of the July night, Handiy a breath cf air was 8 in the branches of the trees, Now and then an myisible night bird piped a sol- itary note to keep Lim company, aoft waves ol light streamed over hills =s the queenly moon, well attended by Jer guards, rode indolently down the Broad highway of heaven, The blue dome, looking soft as velvet, was, like the fabled path of love, strewn thnckly with the golden kisses of the stars, As ho gained tho last hill, whose Snail on the little watering pice which was for a few weeks to be Bis Jestination, he involuntarily drew pein and sat silent a moment enjoying .$he zuoonlight scene. On his left an old-fashioned brick house reared its twisted chimaeys aloft. So close was %e to it that its sharp gables seemed to eat the air over his head, and only a strip of green lawn, bordered by horse- ohie-iumt tres separated him from the wis iowa gleaming in the moonlight. “Sceptre and. crown I'd fing them down, if | wight—" iober: BE ibury hushed bis song when Je pb vowed, for the first time, his very eles: jroximity fo the house and the Win UWS, ‘I'he subsiagtial home of some sub- steutial farmer,” he said® to himself. «1 had better®move on, or his daugh- tes may think 1 am serenading them.” Too late! Just then a window was opeued softly overhead, and a lady's face appeared at it. In the rush of bright moonhght Robert caught sight of the long ripple of gold-gleaming hair, aud was sure that the face was lovely, At any rate, the voice was. “Robert, dear, is it you?” ¥or haif a minote Bobert Edbury was mnte with surprise, and made no Why don't yon ADSWET, “fs it you, Robert? speak?” aXe spako, then, low, and with aesita- Ty “How did you know it was I?” “Of course I knew i$ was you b “There was & dash of petulance’in the sweet voice now. '‘Who else but you would be riding and singing in that absurd way at this hour of the night, and baiting before the house? Have you a cold, Robert? Your vowe sounds differen! from what 1t usually does.” “Perhaps it is the might air,” an- swered Eobert, wickedly, and getting his wils partially together, “Or I may baye cracked if with sioging.” Bat slill he spoke in the most subdued of tones. “‘I did not expect the pleasure of speaking with you,” “The very idea of your coming up on horseback as this night hour! Yon | | you do it? W hero are you going? Iloto Hpatield?” 44T'0 be sure,” = Bat what for?” “To soe a friend.” “Who is it?” camo the quick response. #Not—aos Neily Cameron?’ —with a shade of jealousy in the tove now, “Are tho Camerons recciving this even- 1? “Not that I know of,” returned Rob- ert Eilbury, promptly, “I swear to 1 was not going to see Nelly Lioross I have not spoken with a -Shls young lady w-day, except your- “Poor Robert,” and a little laugh rippied lightly on the sir, *‘But do go, You know what your health is, aud that you bave no business 10 be riding ab this time of night, You ougut fo take better care of yoursell, You will ‘be lai¢ up to-morrow; your voice le ready sounds strange and altered, Good “One moment,” cried Robert Edbary, ‘entnestly, as be leaped from his horse, fastenod the bridie to the gate, snd stepped inside beneath the widow, where gleamed that mysterious, en- chanting face, ‘Won't yuu give me & flower —youn oan easily reach that clus- Sering vine by your casement, Por- fisps—perhaps 1 shall wish to ask you .some fame to forgive me some great of- tense, Won't you give me a flower for a token?’ “How strange yo talk, Of course 1 would give you u lower; Lut these nro .amly beneysuckics, sod you kuow we outed Ww t roses, jut stay!”—the pretiy -woloe canght itself, *‘1 have a bunch of “wiles on my (able. Would you like “Augth that comes more «i oocerely than be always spoke, Lhe night face di 6 mo- foes tne window and then re- . tugued—a white hand glesswed in the and now you moonlight. starring. Suppose it should be mamuwal BN ————————— a lade’s bracelet. li was & sleudor cirolet of gold. studded with crystal, The quick momement bad unclasped it and Dobert, with a smile, put it side by side with the with- ered bunch of wiplets in his pocket ns be rode away. “Speptre aud crown 1'd fling them down.” sang Mr. Edbury as he rode swiftly on in the purple dusk of the trees. “oeptre and erown, if I had them, I'd fling them down for the one bare chance of hearing that lovely voice onoe He was alone; there was no one to ets out of It but who of us does not do silly things in the heyday of our youth's morning? RN Sinan on Robert Edbury blushed perhaps; as us when putting the violets again quickly away. “goeptre and crown 1'd fling them down, If 1 might-" But his song got no further than that; it died away in thought, Passing srm-iv-arn: down the crowded dancing room of the Spa the next even- ing, with his friend Norton, Robert Edbury’s quick ear was caught by a note which at once arrested bis atten- tion. He had sad that he should know that divine voice again, hear it wherever or whenever he might, gud he was not mistaken, A oertsin remonstrance lay in the tone; not to say misbelief. “But who could it have been, Robert, if it was not you? It frightens me to think of it, It—it was somebody of your height and figure, It must have been yourself, Robert.” “But 1 tell you it was not, Jessie. I should like to know who it was.” “He was a gentleman, 1 ath sure—" with a stress upon fhe word, ‘You need not be put out, Robert.” Robert Edbury turned and saw close beside him, leaning on the other Rob- ert's arm, a young eirl, surpassingly beautiful. Roses mingled with the bright gold of her hair, shone in the bosom of her dress, and a bunch of them was somehow intertwined with the lender gold wrist-chain attached to her An. Mr, Edbury caught his breath, as, turning her face, the girl's scit violet blue eyes rested tor a moment unrecog- pizmgiy on his. “Who is she?’ he whispered eagerly to his friend, “How lovely she 1s! What is her name? By heaven! Inever believed in divine loveliness before; but here it is pure and undefiled. What is her name?” “It 1s Mies Chessdane,” was the an- swer. ‘‘She and her mother live at the Grove, half a mile out of town.” “A farm house,” remarked Robert “No, it is mot, It looks not. unliks one. They are people of property. Yes, she is very pretty, I'll introduce you if you like,” Hals an hour later Robert Edbury was beading over the young lady's hand in the pretty seciuded gloom of a vine- wreathed window They were as much alone as it 1» sible for one to be iv the heart of a busy, nnbeeding crowd, The first notes of a Strauss walls were beckoning the dancers, aud gay couples went laughing, hurrying by. “You are not engeged for this valse?” said Robert, eagerly. Some rememivere! cadence of his voice struck tue young girl's memory, and forgetting to answer him, she looked at him doubtinily, while s rosy blush swept over her forehead. Blue hail kuew him aod ball did wot. “Will you let me look at your card?” he pursued, as, with perfect eourlesy in hig voice and manner, he took the bit of gilt and enameied pasteboard which she had tucked away amid the roses at her wrist. “j.] half promised thus dance to Hobert,” she stammered, flinglug a quick glance over her shoulder wuto the swayiag crowd. “Then I shall claim it,” answered the other Bobert with an sudscious smile. He stooped and picked up a rosebud that had fallen, and then held it tri- umpheutly before the flushed and startiod face by his sida. “Soe,” he said, gayly: ‘I saved it from being crushed under foot, Will you not give it to m.?" But she resched ont her band im- puisively. ‘‘I—I never give roses to strangers,” she replied, with a cold, frightened, sugry sir, * are Mr, Robert Btouor’s roses, Live it back to me, if you please.” “My name is Robert, t00,” he said, in the same gayly tender vows, though his dark fsce obhanged a little ai hor frank confession. “My name is Robert, Woo, Miss Chassdane, Therefore, may I not claim the rose?” The soft blue eyes, filled with tears, impulsively to her feet. He tock step back ward, and they stood so, {acs each other a moment in the gay, heeding orowd, +1 kmow you know,” gasped Jessie ale vory pr it. Give me nad not gone to the rooms that night, She looked very pale, The preity rose beotor had all ed out ot the sweet round cheeks, “Are you faint?” he asked anxiously, bending over her. ‘‘Are you tired? Shall I get you some water?” “No, Nol” she cried, shrinking sway from him, ‘I am not faint—but ioo 1 have offended him, He is angry because I danced with you. Oh, what shali I do? He is my cousin, and has ill health, and must not be excited.” flobert Edbury turned, and saw standing near him that other Robert, who threatened to be—and perhaps was —no mesn rival. His ill health was evident, One hand was to his side as if to still some there and on his blonde fave, which was marked by unmistakable traces of con- firmed , & cloud of jealous anger rested heavily, The eyes of the two men mat, and each knew the other for a rival, A hall smile of scorn as he looked curled Robert Edbury's lips. In a case like this a man has no pity for the ail- ments of another, With a grave face he took from his pocket the rosebud and iaud it in Miss Chassdane’s lap, «Here is your rose,” he said quietly. +I restore it to you at your wish, Bat remember what I said; and believe me, time will prove me to be no false prophet.” Without waiting for an answer, he bowed snd disappeared amid the throng oi danoers, seeking her no more that night, ‘¢[s Miss Chassdane engaged to that man?” he questioned of his friend Nor- ton, “I believe there is no positive engage- ment,” was the reply. ‘‘Mrs. Chass dane, it is said, objects fo 18,” “On what score does she object? Money?” “Oh, no; Stonor has a small, compact estate close by, and is well off. Oa ihe score of his uncertain health. Also, they are cousins,” ‘What is it that is the matier with him?” “Some complication, connected with both the lungs and the heart, which, I conclude, renders treatment d flisnlt” “Do you think Miss Cusssdane cares for him?" «1 don't think she loves him, Edbury —if that's what you mean. Ii secs to me that she likes him more as a brother. When eligible atiestions are paid to girls, they feel flattered, you know, and res accordingly. Nine out of ten of them understasd nothing of their own feelings, and mistake friendship for love. Robert Btouor and Miss OUhbsassdane have grown up together—have been like brother and sister.” Froquently they met afier that, It was an unusually gay season at Bpafield, and enterisinments abounded acoord- ingly. In the morning drinking the water. or making believe to drink it; in the afternoon sauntering in the gardens, or on the parace; in the evenwng at the rooms, or at private parties; two or three times did Robert E bury and Miss Chassdsne meet, and lioger together, ayd converse with each other, Robert Edburys time was his owo, and he staid on, He conid have staid forever, The two or three weeks’ sojourn he had jutended had more than doubled itself, For he bad learned to love ber pas stonstely; and all the world might see it for aught he cared, She, too, might gee it, if she choose; but whether she did or not, he could not tell, Judging from the grave and sweet dignity with whieh she met and boro back bis eager attentions, At length there came au evening when he was determined lo put his fate io the test; to go on iu this uncertainty was worse than torment. yay had not been much distarbed by Robert Sionor, ® ys of his complaint had confined that gentleman 10 his own home. And so Robert Edbury weut up to the old gabled bouse, before which his horse had balted that first night, and sought, an interview with Miss Chas dane. She was quite alone, Ths long French window by which she sal was flung wide open, sad the low rod sau. light, streaming Hghted up her fsir gold hair and the roses in ber dress, “How beautiful she is!” he thought, as Le took her band in his, *“What if I should pot win her after all? Bat I will wake s hard fight for it.” Jeasie looked up “Yon are very silent,” she Ti ] siz il £ Ere + Bugaged!” he said, at length, witht a long-drawn breath. “I did not know it, But ecgagements, where no love is, have been broken many times before now!” “Hush!” cried Jessie, “Do not speak like that again, It would kill him! You do not know what you are Ba ” “Kill him!” “Uf he heard it, I meant. He says he trusts me,” “And you are sacrifiéing yourself for himl—for a fancy! Hear the iruth, Jessie. You care not for Mr, Stonor, except as a cousin or a brother. Ex- smine your own heart and it will tell you that you do not, Yom care for me, es, my darling it is Robert Edbury ou have learned to love, not Rebert tonor. Your blushes, my love, are betraying it now. You—" ‘What was that?" shrieked Jessie, A low, smothered sound, half groan, hall ery, had come in from the open window. It was so full of pain that a man would not eare to hear it twice in a lifetime, Before either could rush out Robert Stonor stood in the open- ing, 1t was a figure never to be forgotten. His handsome fair face was distoried with either pain or anger; his pale lips trembled; his left hand was pressed with the old familiar gesture upon his heart “False, false that you are!” broke at length from his blocdiess lips, as he seized Jessie with his ngnt hand, “You told pe you did not care for Robert Edbury! You told me—" A pause, u stagger, and with » fright ful shiver, he fell to the carpet. Robert Edbury broke the fali partialiy, but was not quick enough to quite save him from it. Jessie flew from the room for assistance, “Robert Stonor here!” eoried the bewildered Mrs, Chassdane. **I thodght he was confined to his chamber at home.” He had boen confined fo nis cham. ber; but, alas, he bad crept out of it that evening, and came up to the house to see Jessie, With the fond hope of surprising her in the usnal evening room, he had gone ronnd the shrubbery, ia- tending to enter by the window, aud had heard all, Ou ths floor, there as he lay, his head rmised on a cushion by the hands of Robert Edbury, he died. The med. eal men said he could not, in ao case, have lived many monthg, if weeks, but that the agitation had killed him, It was many long days after that when she had risen from the sick bed to which this shock of sudden death bad brought ber, that Robert Elbury game to say ferewell to Miss Chass. dane, Tue interview was brief, stadiedly brief, for with the ehadow of that dead man lying between them, speech was difficuit to both. *Good bye,” sho eoried, reaching oul to him an sttenusted hand. “I nope you may find happiness and peso!” “Bat we shall meet again,” eried’ Robert, eagerly. ‘*‘Sarely—surely— some time in the future I way coms to you." “Hush!” she eoried, the bears rolling piteously dowu her cheeks, “You must not speak of that, Robert's shadow would always come between us, as he fall there on the floor. We killed him! We killed him!” and she wrung her pale hands together in strong ex- citement, “Stop!” eriod Boveri Edbury, quite sternly, “You are taking sn altogether mistaken view of the truth. Ask your wother; ask any one. Bat you are weak and ill yet, Jessie, and the time has mot yet come for me 10 insist on this, Let us think of him, poor fel. jow, as ong who must, had he lived, nave suffered much, and who has mereifally found peace in - the rest of death,” ti. s100d for a moment looking with a load longing into the small, sweet fscs from which the summer haste, frag You may keep it 8 be kissed well, But be left a whisper behind me." A year went and no message one, a oil ae she will send for me Acme oo 7 EI, ATR SO SONU Gonbout Servios, “Did you notice that man walk over to the eurb and spit in the street?” said a gentleman, “1'1l bot he's been on shipboard, There a man's gol to use either the spit-kids or spit over the side of the vessel into the water. They'll stand anyt! but dirt in the navy, you know, How is this for a daily Aorta When the bo's'n pipes up ail hands in the morning they turn out, put up their hammocks, stow "em away in the net ings, then sweep the decks, Mess- el are spread, and siter breakfast the decks are swept down again. At 1180 A. M. sweepers are piped and then mess-cloths are laid for dinner, after which she fs swept fore and aft once more, It's done twice more, bo- fore supper and after supper, making six times a day. You musta’ think thoy sweep only, Not aday but that the decks are either or wet holy-swoned. A hely-stone is a big sens, flat and smooth on one side, The centre of a long rope is made fast to it, snd a squad of men lay hold of opposite ends puil it backward and forward over the decks, which have been first wet down ana springled with sand, In places that they can't reach, cor- ners, you know, they make men get down on their knee: with litiie sand- stones, called prayer-books, aud scrub ‘em out, After all this, they bend the hose to the pumps and wash the sand away. Men follow with equiligees— arrengemeats shaped like a hoe, with a strip of rubber tacked to the edge. They use ‘em to rab the heaviest part of the water off the decks, Nextcomes another detail with swabs, They are like big hemp horses’ tails, and are swang right and left. When the fbres get well satorated the swab is wrung and used cover again, Light, flat sheet- fron charcoal stoves, the under side three feet square, are then suspended by long rods to within about a foot and a half of the deck, and swang backward aud forward uotil the place underneath is pretty dry, when they shift them to other hammock hooks snd repeat the process, This is done three times a week, and dry holy-stoning twice. Oa such days the sweeps are used five dimes, The decks are always like the driven snow, and wouldn't soil a cam- bric handkerchief! at any time, Now you can understand why s sailor learns to use the spit kids—well, caspidors— look here, whose spinning this yara? ses AW Risky Pick -Back. Among those who gazed on the rush- ing waters from the sospension bridge, not loug ago, was Bignor Natalie. Oa a former oocasion he had gezad upon another boiling flood, but he was not then suppor by anytiung as firm and enduring ss the mighty span of the bridge. It was the Niagara river, and the gentleman in question was carried across it on Blondin's back, when he soocotuplished the most wonderful and hazardous fot of rope walking in the world, Signor Natalie is the property maa of the Abbey company and he is new a venerable looking man of 62 years, al- though his vigor is well preserved. He speaks Eoglish imperfectly, but can be quite readily understood. He is pro- badly one of the greatest travelers in the country, mos: of his travels having been incident to the profession ot oa {ering to the amusement-loying public, He traveled with Straxosch for 16 years, went over 18,000 miles in the service of the advance agent of Salvini, | sae SAT SBA FIAT and firm, but of course wa both knew it was a chsnos to take Hos walked first very slowly and regularly, but feeling more settled, ho made ooca- sional stops, stool on one log, kissed his hand to the crowd, and did a few other such things as you nave seen oth- er rope walkers do, 1 could wee the water way down under us and the crowd on either side, everybody wateh- ing us with faces which looked as if they were suffring. There was no cheering or applsuse while we were out over the water,and the roar of the falls, which seemed only 8 fow yards away, would have preveated us from hearing very plainiy, even if there bad been. It was a terrible few moments to me ; more 85 to me than to Blondia, because be was used to that kind of danger and Iwas not, 1 did not move & W for fear of tripping him, sad I can as- sure you, I felt mighty good when we reached solid ground again snd the people began to yell and suriek and wave their handerchiofs. You can form some idea of how Lig the erowl was, when I tell you Bio din received $2,000 for the performance That gave us a big start, snd not long afterward we went fo London, Jast before we start od a young man we had hirel as our treasurer rau off with $2,000 of our money, and left us liltle excep! our tickets to travel on, We had hardly reached London before we were offered £150 each for twelve performs cos at the Orystal Palace, “In a couple of years he hind made nearly a hundred thousrnd dollar, and when I left him, after six years of business, he was & very wealthy msn, He suffered onee in » bankraptey affair caused by a corner in wines, bat still has & fine fortune, and livss in splendid style. I dined with hia when in Eog- land Just.” A Famous Steamboat Roginoer. There have been many fast sieam boats built during the past forty years, and the result has been many fast trips by them; but no event during that period has served to detract in any de- gree from the fame soquired by the Duke of Orleans, which, in May, 1844, ran from Cincinnati to New Orleans in three days and twenty hours, and came up again in five days and eignteen hours, To belittle her performance, it has been said that she was » small boat with powerful machinery; that she cay- ried all of the steam that it was porsible to generate in her boilers, and that she did mo way business; but the fact re- mains that forty yesrs have rollad by and po boat has equalled her perform- ance, Upon her return trip she leit New Orleans on Banday, May 26, a: 11:10 A, M , sccording to the Cincin- nati standard of time, having on board for fuel thirty.mx cords of pine wood, thirty-five cords of cotton and cypress woods, two hundred bushels of coal and thirty-five barrels of rosin. To fully realize her great speed it most be borne in mind that she wooded from the bank, which consumed much time, and that she made landings st Vicksburg and Memphis for business, and was detained some hours at the canal, Siuce that remarkable trip no post has exhibited extraordinary speed on the lower Ohio or Mississippi rivets without being forced to suffer by comparison with the Duke of Orleans, aud thus the incidents of her great performance are kept fresh ju ihe minds of all, but it 1s proper that tlie foregoing remarks should intro. dnoe intelligence of the death of Isaac West, chief engineer of the Dake of Orleans when she made her famous ran, who stood at the head of his profession the Ravel troupe, of which we were both members, way back in the fifties, He was, I think, about my age, ahd was not quite so tall as Lalthough very powerful, 1 think he was about five feet seven inches high, We traveled all over the country with the trou e, and 1 remember we played here at what, I think, was called the old Bates thea- tre. Slondin’s specialty was tight-rope dancing, and he was a wonderful per- daty may be partly sttribated the won- derfal performance of the boat. OF all who were aboard during the trip but two are now slive—nsmely, Eu W. Cun- ningham, who was her second elerk and is mow the semor of » firm in this city which does a large businees, and Dawdon Cockayne, who was & pas- senger and is now residiag ia Kentucky thirty miles baok of Newport, the lat- ter figuring suously in sn inei- dent of the trip which ilimalrates Mr, West's devotion to duty heretofore noted. At one time steamn Was escaping from the safoty-valve when steam was puesto, and the sound aanoyed Mr, est. Pigs of lead were saspended from the valve by a cord, and Mr, West slightly jerked cord to tighten the valve. The cord had been se:rched and and the sudden pull caused it to break, and one of the pigs of lead tell on Mr, West's fool, severing a toe. The soute pain sud tho oozing of blood induoed hima to oll to lis assistance for a tme Mr, Cockayne, who was also an , $0 handie the throttle yalve untii he conld again stand Hpi Ef Ts ? 3 t Ii f fis fi; gk Eek FEki % ! the cugine-room sb auy tune, He man of extrsordisary physical 1 ik i 3 A] 13 y : iE ii £ i : a § : i ii i i fet hi 1 ¥ 4 E 1 i d |
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