ADVERTISING RATES. 3t. 1 mo. 3 too.. 6 moo. 1 vr. 1.60 1.75 3.11) 0.011 10.00 3.0 U 3.60 5.(4) 10.111 16.00 4.G 5.00 8.00 15.00 3(00 8.011 1200 20.00 3.1.01 10.00 20.00 35.00 50.00 15.01 31.50 50.00 60.110 25.00 60.00 113.00 viano OnuSquerr, . Tved Sonar.. Thmo &mar.. Six liqunrep, . Quarter Column Ilalf Column . Ono Column Professional Cards 61.1:0 per line per year. Adtnintalrator'• and Auditor's - Notices, /1011. City Notices, IS tents por lino lot Insertion. 15 cents per Sinn each subsequent Insertion. Ten linen agate roue ti tute a square. WILLS & IREDELL, PUBLISHERS. ==! Jinancial cO CENTRAL PACIFIC R. R. CO FIRST MORTGAGE BONDS This great euterprian le approashiug okanidetion with a rapidity that aatoul•hea the world. Over Arleen h. nclrrd 113) millet have beau built by two (X Powerful ama ranth.: the (taloa Pacific Railroad, hesitating ■t Omaha, building waat,•and the Central Pantie Railroad, hennaing at Sacramento, and building rant, until the two made shell meet. Leas than two hundred and arty mile, remain to be built. The greater part or the interval is now graded, and It le reanonably expected that the through connection between San Franclean and New York will ho eoinpleied by July I. A. the amount of Ooerrnment aid given to each IP it pendent upon the length of road each shall build, both inompanlee are prompted to great effort. to ergote the eon Mil:lotion and ►antral of what, when eompleted, will be one and Me only grand Railroad Liar connecting the Atlantic and Partite moody. Ono Hundred •od Ton Million Dollars opio.cm,axi) In money have already born expended h r the two powerful *companies engaged in this groat enterprise, and they will npeedlly eomplete the portion yet to be built. When iho United States Government found It neeenary to eeenre the oonetrnetion of the Paslfic to deorinp and pro tect Ile own Interest. It gave the companice authorised lo build It suelt ample old a should render It. epeody com pletion beyond • doubt. Tito flo•ernment ald may bo briefly summed up cm follow 'PIM: The right of wey and all neeessary limber nod atone from public domain. Shooed, It makes a donation of 'VOL) awes of land to the mile, which when the road Is completed, will amount to twenty-throe million 121,00.1,COOlanres, and all of it with in twenty (2.0) miles of the railroad. Third. It loans the minm:inios fifty million dollars cm • 000,0301, for which it takes a second lien. The Government has already loaned the Union Janette Railroad twenty-four million and fifty-eight thousand guitars (01,05R,G110,1 and so the Central l'asille Railroad seventeen million sir hundred and forty-eight thousand dollar. ($17,648,0.101, amounting in all to forty-one million seven hundred and six thounsnd dollars (1111,706,000). Thu Coinpanies are permitted to issue their own Fimt Mortgage Bond. to the same amount as they receive from she United State., and no snore. The companies have sold to permanent investors about forty million dollars 16411,(00,f0i of their First Mortgage ponds. The companies have already paid in (Including net earnings not divided, grants from State of California, and Sacramento city rind San Francis.), upwards of fai,000.000) twontl4/ve nil lioa dollars of capital stook. WHAT IS THERE IET TO BE DONE Is eoneldering this question it must be remembered that all the remaining iron to finish the road is contracted for, and the largest portion paid for and sow delivered on the line of tho Union Paalfic Railroad and tho Central Paelde . liallroad, and that the grading is almost finished. WHAT RESOURCES HAVE THE COM • PANIES TO FINISH THE ROAD? /lest. They will rewire from the Government ao the road Kogreases about it 9,000,000 additional. Somnd. They can hone their own lint Mortgage. Bonds for about Ift,frA(Kg) additional. Third. The nornpanlet now hohl almost MI the land they have up to Oda time received from the Oovernmeut; upon the completion of the road they will have received to all 21,000,(0)tern, which at Si 30 per sire would be worth 131,..510,0e0. In addition to tho above the net earnings of the made sod additional eapital, If , itould he called In to fir, CIECEM WAY BUSINES-ACTUAL EARNINGS No one lane eTelf expressed 111 tiOnbt that a noun an tL• road l• romploted Its through Ludlam will be alanad•nsly proAtaldo Oro.. earning. of the Union Pacific Rail road Company for sir month,. ending January I.t, 18(10, wore upwards of 10. 0 01.000 Tito earning.. of Central Pacific Railroad, for nit month.. ending January lid, 181), Fero Irpenau Inlore.l 16,50, 000 gold 4.50, OM • • Set profit of Central Paslfle Railroad, after paying alb Interest and expenses for six months (1750,(110 gold The present gross earning. of the Union and Central Pa elk Railroads aro 41,311,000 monthly. HOW LARGE A BUSINESS 18 IT SAFE TO PREDICT FOR TILE GREAT PACIFIC RAILROAD? We would glee the following fuels derived from Ship ping Lists, 'insurance Compel., Railroad+ and genera Information:— Oh1p• going from the A!lnntic around Cape Horn, 100 Steamships connecting at Panama with Call torn!. and China, 61 131. Overland Train., Stages, Horses, etc., etc. 30.010 Here we have two hundred and thirty thousand toll tarried westward, tad experience Ita• shown in the la. few years the return passengers from Call ferule INAM lase pearly as amaeroux as llama gulag. HOW MANY PASSENGERS ARE THERE? We make Um following estimate:— 110 &ealmallps (blab ways) 7110 Velsels •• Ovorlaud Prisont prise (averaging half the cost of the steamships for both pawns.* and moony., gives the following re I=1:1 1T4.0110 paameager. at $lOO 469,0LTJ torts, rated at $1 par .able foot Mogan° Dewing calculations upon the above flint., without al lowing fur the large Increment boolneme, which ran safely be looked fur, then estimate the running expanse a at one half and we have a net Income of .10,1720,000; which, after paying the interest. the First Mortgagettouda and the ad vances made by the Government, would leave a net annu al Income of119,000,1D) over and above all expenaea and EIME3 Tim First Mortgage Bonds of the Utilon Pacific Railroad Company and the Float Mortgage Donde of the Central Pacific Railroad Company are both, principal nod Inter est, payable In gold coin; they payola per cent. Interest In gold coin, and run for thirty years, and they eattuot ho Paid before that time without the consent of the holder. Ent Mortgage fluid Bond. of the Union Pacific itrdlroad for sale at par and accrued interest, and First Mortgage 0 old Bond• of the Central Pacific Railroad at RR and sc orned inlercal. DE HAVEN & BRO., 'DEALNRS IN GOWNUNIIIINT SNCIIIIIT/Zi, GOLD, ITC NO. 40 S. THIRD ST., PHILADELPHIA. [jßn 27 VOL. XXIII THE GIRL WHO SANG, AND THE GIRL WHO WAS SILENT. The girl who was silent sat close by the win dow, her profile clearly cut against the sunset light. She was calm and still.' Mark Aken side wondered, as he watched her, whether it was " In her" to be anything else—whether any man's voice could deepen that delicate rose flush on her cheeks, or make the long lashes quiver which shut in those quiet eyes, blue blue seas, or stir the -lips to a thrill of longing. She was like n morning sky, all rose and azure, and pearl, with hair golden as sun light. Who could prophesy oilier high noon, her crimson sunset ? Of the other one's capacity for emotion Akenside never dintbted. She was a blonde, too ; but then she was intensified in every par ticular. Her eyes were not blue, but amber; her golden hair had red lights in it—real Guinea gold, you know ; and the color on her cheeks came and went like a breath of flicker ing flame. She was more petite than the tall, Lately girl who sat by the window—a little 'reify, a flashing humming-bird, anything else my and tropical. She sat now in the wan ng light, and'sang ton dreamy air— " I am weary of rowing, Let me drif —let me drift 7" Akenslde laid been watching them both for awhile, sitting nearest to Blanche, the silent ➢Liss Desmond, who was by the window. Now he got up and crossed over to the singer. " When did you ever do anything but drift r lie asked. " Did you ever have a strong, fixed purpose in your life?" He was startled at the look of passionate earnest which answered him. Her voice fell into a low key, as if it were her soul which was speaking to his. • " Yes, one—most certainly one." " And that was—will you tell me 2" " Never, heaven help me ?" "Why how tragic you are." "Life is tragic, I think." She got up then, n little creature, satirized by the yard-long train of heavy silk which rustled softly after her, and went across the room and out on the piazza, where she sat down within sound of a raised voice,'hut rather out of ordinary ear-shot. Akenside looked around at Miss Desmond with a smile. " What a piquant child ,Maud is !" he " You are mistaken," the elder sister replied cooly. ." Maud is in some respects a very strong woman." . They fancied they knew each other Well, these Desmonds, as sisters who have lived all their lives together are apt to fancy ; but they were often puzzled about each other, notwith standing. Maud used secretly to wonder whether Blanche hail any heart, and Blanche gravely questioned in her own mind whether Maud had any soul. As for Akenside, he had been nedr neighbor to them all the early part of Ilia life ; but his last six years had been passed in college anti in foreign travel, and now he was getting ac quainted with the girls afresh—really acquaint ed for the first time, he fancied. I wonder if there be not in every man a secret spice of the Mormon ? There was in Akeuside, certainly. Marriage involves a good deal ; and perhaps he would not have been quite ready to marry them both, even if the law had allowed. But whenever Mitud's iviisfatu us light beguiled him away, Blanche's eyes, clear-shining as stars, brought him back again ; and between them both he felt like pendulum. Ile sat and watched Blanche now —the cool, clear-cut face coining between him and the, sky, looking as if in the whole range of surprises there were not one which could change her calm sweetness by a shade. 'Truly, she was a very beautiful woman. But, could she ever love ? • Careless and impulsive always, thought ilprang to his lips—" Do you t man could ever rid& your stately ca Des mond, or trouble your heart-beats Miss Desmond smiled. "I think you ha ye had too much of science, when every woman appears to you as material for experiment. So much love and so much sorrow—this and this combination—what will be the precipitate ? What the residuum ? It may be well enough to sacrifice birds and fishes to the instinct for seovery, not women." " Oh, if you put it in that ghastly light, $1.7.50.0 no gold have nothing to say. All the same I should like to understand your capacity for emotion." " I should not. I pray /leaven never to dis cover it to me." Akenside looked at her. Iler words held MEM the passion and power of some unexpresse4 consciousness, but her face was still and cat& as ever. What triumph it would be,he thought, to deepen by ever so little the rose on those checks, to make those level-fronting eyelids droop. Then lielOoked out Maud. " Titania !" he said. The girl heard Min, and rising, faced hh like a queen ; the silken sheen of her robes trailing round her, the golden hair crowning her small, stately head, which she bowed slightly. "1101 you a child when I went away to I= college, Titania, you and Blanche both. After six years I come back to tind you—yourselves. Out of the congruity between what you are, and my recollection of you, has arisen a sing,u lar mistake. I packed a portmanteau with gifts for you during my travels ; sonic f on and Some for Blanche ; a relic from ever7?,pot where I pitched my tent. If you Lad been groWn up when I went away, I should ,not helve ventured on the audacity.. As leis, what am Ito do with the things I brought home for two little girls I My mother wears black, and I have neither sister nor sweetheart." Miss Desmond did not speak, but Maud's curiosity passed the bounds of her will. " What were Blanche's, and what were mine Y" she asked. 70,c0u. lartunl fur I. 4,000 entlmnlyd • ' 101,000 • • • • $17,40.0ce 15,641.1"0 A little gleam of triumph shot from Aken side's hazel eyes. "So you condescend to be curious! May f show you the trifles ? If I bring them over in the morning, can you answer for your sister as well as for yourself, that they shall be inspected, and fair judgment passed upon them, as to how my taste and your pecullarties accorded?" Miss Desmond began to utter a protest, but Maud put - her hands over her lips. " Yes," she said, " lam curious. You shall bring them and we will look at them—l an saver for both of us. It is something to have been remembered among the beguilements of the far, fair foreign lands. We shall be grate ful for the memory, at least." . " Thank you." Akenside made his adieus then, and started to walk down the path, and Maud who bad not quite finished something she had to say, walked to the gate with him. De looked back once, and saw Miss Desmond sitting still where heluid left her, in her glistening.white robe and thought that she suggested an drigel. Might she not be destined to be the good angel of his life? And then a moment after, as Maud's syren-sweet tones stole to his car, and lie looked into her flushed, changeful face—did 31 f ALLENTOIN WEDNESDAY MORNING, MARCH 17, 1869 he want nn angel after all? Would not a wo man, a warm, mdtant woman suit him bet ter? Then was little of the celestial in him, heaven knew. Do you complain of Akenside already ? You are fortunate if the majority of the men you have met in your life have not been of his kind. It is not the heroic type, certainly. Once in awhile one finds a man whose life is pitched above the level of the common place —for whom one is forever the beloved wo man, the only possible woman—but we shall wait, perhaps, till the millenium before Weir number is legion. The world was very well contented with Mark Akenside as he was, and did not stop to wish him more of a hero. He was a great, strong, handsoine fellow, with his curling hazel hair, his sunny hazel eyes, his well -cut features,, and his head like a Greek statue's. He was Greek in his temperament, too—beau ty-loiing, pleasure loving, quaffing existence like wine, with just enough of Teutimicinys ficism,thrown in to make him imagine that he aspired for something beyond the, life he so thoroughly enjoyed. A gentleman horn and bred, he was rich also. So were the Diamonds. On neither side could there be any temptation to be Mercenary ; and I sometimes think that the truest lives are where both sides Me - too poor to expect any. Akenside was free to bring home a bride, tocherless or not, as it suited him. To know, beyond a peradventure what did suit him would be his only trouble. • The next day was warm, with the tender, brooding warmth of perfect June. The sky was deep blue, flecked here and there with fleecy white, and over the shining fields, causeless, uncertain shadoWs, of those clouds, perhaps, wavered and went out. All the roses were in bloom, and the climbing vines around the veranda glowed with crimson hearted blossoms. Miss Desmond had gathered some of the palest, and put them in her hair. , They drooped low, and their perfect pink heightened a little the softer bloom of her cheeks. She wore them also in the belt of herwhite dress, and other ornaments she had none. Aken side coming up from the gate, and seeing her lean against.a pillar, thought that so Miranda might have looked when, Ferdinand saw her for the first time. The fancy was inconsequent and idle, as most of his fancies were, for there was a speculation in Miss Desmond's eyes, and insight into men and things, which was never caught in Prospero's enchanted isle. Just as he reached her side, Maud flashed out, a perfect Fay Vivien, in brilliant green. Iler beauty Was of that piquant and fascinat ing hind, which is constantly changing, and seems, with every change, to have taken on new radiance. Akenside had been poetizing to himself about Blanche just before; but somehoW Maud, all glint, and grace, and sparkle, put his fancies to flight with the first gleam of her presence. A man had followed him with a portman teau, which, at a sign from his master, he put upon a choir on the veranda, and then van- Akenside took out a key and flourish ed it. " Now, ladies," he said, " imagine me a magician. Ican give you, being so, whatever you may wish. What will you have—silks, laces, cashmeres, jewels." " A heart," Maud answered saucily. Ile turned the la , y, and lifted the cover of the portmanteau. Then he drew out the dokikktiest of inlaid boxes, in which he touched a little spring and revealed an Etruscan chain of the most exquisite , workmanship. From this he silently took off and replaced in the box a coral hand, carved with the daintiest art of the Neapolitans, and left on the chain, sole pendant, a heart of the most perfect shade of pink coral, wrought also with the exquisite ness you find nowhere out of Naples. Then, with the utmost gravity, he hung the chain round Maud's neck. "It is yOur turn now," he said to Blanche. "What will you have ?" • "A lily," Miss Desmond answered, smiling. "You used to call it my symbol." She thought that now she had.put the ma gician to his trumps ; but there was a curious light in his eyes. He bent towards his coffer, and said over some foreign words, which might have been an incantation. Then he took ,something from it, and laid something in her hand. It was a little cask, of carved ivory, which opened and disclosed a brooch and ear rings of pearls—each ring the loveliest droop ing lily-bell, the brooch a cluster of them. " The poor magician did not forget the lily of home," he said, not venturing to mkt on Miss Desmond's ornaments, as Ike had her sister's, but looking at her entreatingly. She had meant to take none of his gifts ; but this one, so exquisite in itself, so delicately sug gestive of the reniembrance in which he had held her, she could not refuse. So she hung the rings in her ears, and clasped the brooch at her throat, and there was, or Akenside thought so, a shade more of bloom upon her cheeks, a gleam more of brightness in her eyes. For Maud there were ornaments of the car een coral to match her heart—roses exquisite- ly cut, and over one of which a bee hovered, fastened by art so delicate that he seemed poised in air. Maud had been the rose of the old time, as Blanche the lily, and now in her turn a gay triumph glanced in her eyes. He gave her sandal-wood, also,for she liked power ful odors, and otto of roses, each drop holding the distilled sweetness of an eastern garden ; but Blanche would take nothing more. In vain he shook out Oriental silks, shawls heavy with patient stitches, laces like cobwebs. ' He had to put them all back again. Even Maud protested that she should care nothing for her coral roses and carved sandal-wood, if she had to be weighed down with gills like a Chinese idol. So silks, and shawls, and laces, were packed up, and ,Maud told hint they must be kept for the only woman who could ever wear them with propriety—his wife. " And if she never come ?" uttering a last remonstrance as he turned the key. "Then you may leave them to me in your will." " What a satire it is on our belief in humor lathy," Blanche said, " that we can take gifts so much more readily from the dead than from the living. We are all heathen - in our in stincts, and fancy those who have died out of our sight are mere dust and ashes, done with forever." "Perhaps you women shrink from the gifts of the living-16t the giver should claim too much in return," Akenside ventured, bending towards Blanche, and sending his eyes down through hers into her soul, to search out, if he might, its secrets thrills. Maud had not noticed this byplay. She had brought out her hand-mirror, and was looking Into it at herself and. her coral roses. "What could you ask that I would not give in return for these, even to the half of my kingdom ?" she cried, gayly. • Akenside turned to her then, and saw the amber eyes which some new radiance kindled, the cheeks flushed with soft bloom, the 7d- gold hair, tumbling out of its silken net, such as Titian painted for his bells-donnaages ago, and if Blanche had swayed him a moment be fore, a yet more powerful magnetism drew hi% now to 3laud. - Was soul or sense strongest in this man Y This was the question the Fates were trying to solve, using these two women as tests. But he did not know it., He was conscious merely of a strange confusion of Ideas. If only lie could be in the world With one of these two, without the other! The Fates smiled, and gave him, in effect, this opportunity also. Maud was sent for by her godmother ; not a fairy godmother, but a rich old aunt of her father's, who had named her, and from whom she had great expettm lions. The girl cared very little for money, having never known the want of it. She would willingly have thrown up the whole affair, let the great aunt nurse her rheumatism and her wrath in solitude, and make her will in favor of the other branch of the family, for the sake of remaining herself in the neighborhood which the presence of Akenside bad begun to make profoundly interesting to her. But her father and mother hail more worldly wisdom, and insisted on her obeying the snmmons which hail been sent her. She was whirled away, therefore, as fast •nineteenth century steam-witch-craft could hurry her ; and Miss Desmond, in Fier white robes and her calm graciousness, was the only one to speak Mr. Akenside's welcome when lie went over to Woodside that night, as usual. There had been for him something dazzling about Maud—n gleam too bright for clear seeing but now that the sun was withdrawn fir a time, the calm moonlight stole into his soul, tilt he wished that it might never be high noon again. Oh ! those duly days, in which they haunted together the dilsky, aromatic woods, or surprised the water-lilies in their haunts, or learned new song front the thrush . breaking his heart with melody ; those short, swift summer nights, when they watched the red sunsets, the rising moons, and then Arkenside went home to dream. In those days and nights he thought he had found the gate to • new Paradise. One day—the last one of July—he told this to Miss Desmond. She heard him at first with a shadow of doubt in her eyes. Maud iyas expected the next day. She wished he had waited, and said these things after he had seen Maud again. At last seeing no escape7she told him so. Do you think I do not know myself ?" lie asked her proudly. "I am no boy, and I have never yet been tempted to say to any other woman,. what I say to you now. The only question is, can you love me I" "It is not the only question," she answered,, mournfully. " Z love you well enough ; but what it I should fail to satisfy you ?" " And I swear to you, that if you love me enough you will not fail." So, urged by his - pleading and her own hope, Blanche gave up the point, and allowed herself to be -happy. She seemed to be re-created. Even Maud would never have questioned, seeing her now, whether she bad any heart. The deep calm of her natnre was broken up at last. New light was in her eyes, more vivid bloom upon her cheeks. She was pure as a pearl still, but radiant as moonstone. A telegram Caine that Maud would stay away a week longe . r—a sennight which was long enough for Blanche to drain the bubbles from this too sparkling cup which her lover was holding to her lips. Ile cane over the next morning after he had won Miss Desmond's confession that she loved him, With triumph in his eyes, with the mien of it kill . who has been crowned, a hero who has won it victory. lie brought with him the little, exquisitely-wrought hand lie had detached from the chain which lie gave to 31 awl. "I kept this back," he said, "pause I could give my hand to but one. It seems to me symbolic. _Will you wear it ?" " Your heart did not seem symbolic, I sup pose, or the gift of that could be multiplied infinitely," she retorted, softening the words with a smile, however; and' bending over for him to fasten the gift round her neck. But she thought, with a sharp and sudden pang— " He gives his heart fo Maud, and hls hand to me." Still she banished the prophetic pain, which seemed to her at once morbid and ungenerous ; and perhaps she was happy enough in the seven days which followed to balance fairly souse sad flours to come. Is there not an al chemy in young true love, which can distill into a week bliss enough for a life ? After Egypt had melted her pearl and drank it, she would have been inconsequent. indeed to ex pectio see it shining clear upon her bosom. The second week in August brought Maud back at its beginning. The understanding be tween Akenside and Miss Desniond was so new, he was so careless and she so delicate, that it .luid not yet been talked about as an esc gagement, or even come to the understanding of the father and mother on either side. Mrs. Desmond was an invalid, and of necessity left her girls so much to their own devices that she had'utterly failed to discern even as much as was patent to clear-seeing Maud at once. He either loves her, or thinks he does," she said to herself, the first night. The thought was bitter to her. She had begun to care for him before she went away, and the tedium of her absence had nursed her fancy into something she believed to be the love of her lifetime. had she lost him by that absence ? She determined to watch theth both narrowly. She went to the piano In pur suance of this thought, and sat down at it. It fronted the wall, so that as she sat before it she could face the room. She commenced playing a dreamy nocturne, in which he seemed absorbed . ; and, so sitting and watching, else saw AMC looks, heard some tones which told her their own story. • At last she began to sing. her voice had no wonderful power or won derful sweetness; but It hada curious, prevail ing Individuality of its own. With singular pathos in her tones, she sang a song, in itself full of despair : " We're all alone, we're all alone! The moon and stars are dead and gone ; The night's.at deep,lhe wind's asleep, And thou and I are all alone! " What care have we, though life there be Tumult and life are not for me Silence and sleep about us creep ' ; Tumult and life arc not for thee! "how late it la since such as this Had topped the height or breathing bliss ! And now we keep un Iron sleep— In that grove thbu, and I in this !" Before the first verse was over, Some power he was not strong enough to resist, had drawn Akenside to the piano: Listening with his soul, he looked with his eyes. This girl was beautiful, surely, with the red glint in her golden hair, the full tide of light in her great amber oyes,thc lips that sang, and the voice that Charmed. Was there anything as satisfying, any such fulness of emotion in his quiet Blanche ? The next lament he looked at her, pearl-white and pure, as she sat silently by the window, and hated himself that he had asked the question. But the days and the nights went on, and Maud glittered forever before his ryes, or sang her way into his heart ; and he felt himself growing helpless, besieged in his stronghold by fate. One day, in a mood of desperation, he pro posed to Blanche to make their engagement known, and ask her parent's consent to an early marriage. Ile thought that this disclos ure would serve to bind him—to impress upon him his obligations, and strengthen him in his conflict with himself. But, to •his surprise, Blanche determinedly refused. They would wait a few weeks she said. This gave him an opportunity to reproach her with want of love. She only smiled. She thought to herself—" Let him think I do not love him, if he can. It may help hint to forgive himself more easily when the time comes." By which you twill perceive that she loved m so well, she was ready to lay heart and life alike uNler his feet. If Maud had quite understood her quiet, agent sister; she might have been more merciful, though she had never much regarded any law save her own will : but there were some riddles she would never guess, and youth and love were strong within her. So she glittered on, and after awhile Mark Akenside's eyes were dazzled, and he saw nothing clearly. " I wish I had stayed away from him," she said one day; petulantly—she was often petm hmt to Akenside now. " By Heaven ! I Wish you had never pow! he cried in sudden passion, and then he turned and met the steady, calm gaie of Blanche, who WaS just coining into the room. lie was not too brave to quiver in every nerve. Had she heard hint? What had he done ? • Maud shrugged her pretty shoulders with an air of ennui, and went through.a low win dow, doWn a walk sort with pine needles be low, dusky with pine boughs above. Akenside waitetFkr Blanche to speak. She was above all pettiness or dissimulation. She looked at him with sad, kind eyes, and a pa- tient smile which pierced him like a sword. " You see I was wiser than you," she said. " I ahvgs feared that I knew you better than you knew yourself. But you must not think I blame you ; I know you have been fighting a battle." fl By this time she had taken off the little carved hand, and now she laid it in his palm. "You see that it was more truly a symbol than you knew. It belongs where the heart had gone before. Heart and hand are joined by divine right, I think." Mark Akenside had never loved any woman as passionately as he hated himself just now. He believed that in giving up Blanche be gave up the good angel of his life : and he longed to catch her escaping robes, to kneel in the dust of humiliation at her feet, and force his way into her heart again by the very force and passion of his supplication. But something in her look forbade him, and made' him sure that it would lie worse than useless. " You were too good for me," he said slow ly ; "and yet, if you had had patience enough you might have made a better num of me than I ever shall be now." She did not answer him save with a gleam f tender pity in the clear, kind eyes, which ad shed bitterer tears for him than lie would ever guess or know. "He really thinks now, with Maud out of his sight, that he is in earnest," she thought, as lie went away, with a gentle compassiOn for his weakness which only the strong sweetness of her own nature saved from being touched with scorn. "Poor fellow, how ungrateful he would be some day if I had taken him at his word !" Ile went awny from her, but he did not fol low Maud on her shady path. In bitterness of spirit he went home, Willi self-contempt stinging him, sorely. When he laid up the little coral hand which he had brought with him, lie persuaded himself that it was forever, unless inlime his remorse and his constancy should win for him Blanche Desmond's par- Ile stayed away from Woodside a whole week, nursing the aforesaid constancy and remorse ; but when he went back there again Blanche was gone. She had chosen this epoch to make a long-delayed visit, and leave the field clear for Mated. That young lady received him coldly. Ile wondered whether his absence hail piqued her, or whether her sister had told her any secrets ; showing by this latter con jecture how little he really knew of Blanche after all. , Like a man (not like a hero), he wanted to solve this mystery, and so set him self at work to break down the barrier of Maud's coolness, And again she wove around him her subtle, glittering meshes. In two weeks ho was more hopelessly her captive than lie had ever been her sister's, One day, moved by Some superstition, he carried to her the hand of careen coral, and hung it on her chain. " When heart and hand have gone together, all must be right," he said to himself. This time his engagement was made known at once, and received the parental sanction. It saved his pride that these ruling powers had never been certified of the oilier one. Ile asked his bettailed, after she, lots his betrothed, what had tin the strong fixed pur pose of her life which she had once so earnestly asserted, and so resolutely refused to tell him. She smiled archly in his face, with her an swer—" To make you love me, clear." Blanche came home in time to help with the wedding preparations. Akenside had won dered once whether it was "in her" to love. It was not in her, certainly, to parade her woes, or hang out any signal of distress. She was calm, and stately, and gentle—mistress of herself through all. Maud, who has not one twentieth of her capacity for unselfish loving,, will probably go on to the mid, doubting whether her sister has any heart. As for Akenside, he will see sometimes from afar, the mini and stately lily he had not dis cernment enough to gather, with a pang of regret and longing ; just as doubtless lie would have sighed now and then for Maud's butterfly beauty and glittering grace, if he had married her sister. I told you, in the first place, that he was not cast in a heroic molud, and I hardly fancy it was In him to be perfectly and on. swervingly satisfied with any woman. Stiff he makes Maud it good husband, and she rules hint by her stronger will, with an unconscious ness of the sway on both their parts, which is beautiful to .see. She feels no lack, The one who was best and noblest among the three suffered most ;bilt that is the way of tliexprld. Would you rather, for that reason, be,*aud than Blanche ? The "sugar wedding,". occurring thirty days after a marriage, Is the last matrimonial novelty. —An encounter with natives—Opening oyeters IMPROVEMEMT IN AGRICUL TURE. The following is an abstract from a paper rend by Wm. Day, of Morristown, N. J., be fore the Farmers! Club. He said : In view of the growing wants of a great and growing people ; in view of their ease of production and enormous yield ; in view of the partial and, I trust, temporary deficit of the oat and potato crop ; in view of so desirable a comfort end convenience to the wants of the table, the more extended and general cultivation of the root crop, as it is called, is a great national do sifieratum. Some writer in a late number of the Tribune very justly remarks that we are "entering an age of ideas." The truth is, our ideas are too aged already. TIM time has undoubtedly come when progressive improve ment is the necessary order of the day. Im proved implements of culture must offset the continually increasing scarcity and consequent rise in value of good land, skilled labor, and. fertilizers. Bence the common farmer must switch off and come up in the right track, or the profit margin will grow beautifully less. = The faults of ordinary mnnngement are first : The impoverishment of the soil by continued over-cropping ; second, the omission of a suit able preparation of the soil by reckless and indifferent plowing. Such an appitirent violation lwell-known principles, nature abhors, and ver•• soon asserts her better judgment, by withholding the desir ed increase. Begging your pardon, gentlemen', I only quote the words of another when I say Nature knows hatter than man whnt the nuts want." Hoot crops, as they are called, lelight in a kindly soil, and gentle and careful reatinent: They bask In the sunshine of our most litvored nenson ; that season is but a short one. Hence every possible encouragement should be given. All garden-pulse or edible vegetables should have a quick and strong growth to insure that succulent, tender sweet ly-us so notch prized. On most farms, after a fair preparation of soil, the crop is planted, in rows or course, but generally too close together for profitable working. The extra labor re quired comes at just the time when the farmers can illy afford it, and this 1 consider one of the most serious drawbacks to root-growing. This ambition to compete with the New York City market gardens is only a successful fail ure, as it involves too great a division of inter ests, a fact ton often over-looked. Now what is the remedy for this defect ? Give the crop reasonable space, enough to allow working by horse-power not less than two feet, and for broad-leaved roots even three feet will often times be found practically admit ageOus. This qurtion of agricultural labor is hemming a - matter or 110 small importance, as out of it grow fifty per cent, of the issues of life or death to farming. It is the farmer's mint where he coins his gains and his losses. The hired farm laborer gets say $2B per munth, or counting eleven months' actual labor performed, $BOB per annum. It would take but a meagre cal culation of figures to show that the ordinary farmer who depends upon his profits to make both ends meet, must practice the most strin gent economy. And with labor above high water mark, and most thoroughly unskilled at that, he makes a virtue of necessity, procures a skeleton or narrow mold-boardplow, it in to the hub," cuts off till+ feeding-roots, and ruins his crop. = The preparation of the soil I consider a mat ter of the highest importance. If we sek et a site unadapted to fruit, ever so much motley, skill, thne and patience only grievously add to breadth and depth of certain failure, and forth with fruit 4 growing is decried as a doubtful investment. What incalculable advantages might have been reaped had this point been as deeply impressed upon our mind at the outset of life as years of sad and disastrous failure have fully demonstrated it. Never plant roots in ground ill prepared. Better wait till "the right time of the moon" goes down and collies up again, than plant in soil not properly pre pared. It is a well-known axiom also that soils acquire fertility , by exposure to the influ ence of the atmosphere ; hence, after a tedious and protracted spell of unfavorable weather stow often do we see the whole force of the farm sununoned.to subdue the, army of weeds that arc holding wild revel over the infant crop. Now one hour's efficient working of some labor-saving implement would be as beneficial to hint as days or delay would lie disastrous, enabling him not only to save his crop, but putting it in his power to do just the right thing in just the right time. For the relative and comparative value of the root•erop for both nourishing and fattening purposes, a few brevities condensed from writers of authority limy suffice. One 'says all roots have "vain able nutritive qualities," some to a surpassing extent. 01' lbe high' value of the potato we need scarcely speak. Suffice it to say, two pounds Of raw potatoes afford as much nour ishment as one pound of good hay. Yet I believe better results invariably follow a judi cious variation of food, to num and beast as well as to land. Five pounds of carrots and 6 pounds of oats are considered equivalent to 10 pounds of oats ; The average cost of raising carrots in the oh • • niay be reckoned at 15 cents a bushel. bushels of mangolds have been raise( acre at a cost of cents per bushel, of which, according to experiment, 400 pounds were equivalent to 100 pounds of hay. 'Allowing 66 pounds to the bushel, the crop produced was equal in nutritive value to 12 tons of hay. To grow its equivalent in hay on an acre would, of course, be impossible. =I Take one more very familiar illustration : An ordinary crop of Winter cabbage, planted three feet apart each way, an acre will yield 4,781 heads, which, at the retail price, now selling at 15 cents a head, would net $715.75, and even at 10 cents a head, would bring $478.50. 1 propose to show how ?.his\ volt may be grown with scarcely one- enth the labor usually bestowed upon it. As a neces sary connection, therefore, to the important work of cultivating root crops, I suggest 'the use of a more efficient and labor-saving imple ment than any known to the trade. Every one knows bow much better is the preparation Of the garden by forking up and raking than by turning with plows and harrowing, and the implement desired now—in the . place of the plow one that shall dig, fork and rake at one operation ; stirring the ground to sufficient depths, leaving it as nearly as poisible in the condition of a garden bed prepared with a fork and rake. Suchtth implement I have invented, and propose to introduce. To this small model of it I respectfully invite the attention of thiS Club. The essential features aimed at in the strawberry or root culture is to stir the soil without turning any furrow. Efficiency with out complication is the golden rule for farm implements. The faults and vices of compli cation are prominent causes of many and repeated failures. Symplleity is usually econ- WILLS & EREDELL, Vain anb ffancp .11ob Printera, No. 47 EAST HAMILTON STREET, ELEGANT PRINTING, NEW DESIGNS, LATEST STELES • Stampod Check. Cardn, Circulara, Paper Books, Conati tuttons and 11: -Lawn, School Catalognen, 11111 Head. Envelopen. Letter Head., Ellin or Lading, Way 1.1111.1. Tags and Shippinst Cards, Punters or any alto, ate., etc/ , Printed at iThort Notice. NO. 11 omy, especially, In agricultural implements. For obvious reasons farmers are not always mechanics, nor is the field n machine-shop. The delay occasioned by breakage is a serious source of vexation and loss. On surfaces moderately smooth and &or of fast Stones and of roots, the only description of soil where it would be sensible to r;roc- roots, 1 . claim 'new and remarkable excel! In the working of root crops—strawberries, corn, cotton, tobacco and hops—for " l)ny's Improved Cultivator and Ilorse-hoe." DELIGHTFUL MEN "Isn't he a delightful ratan?" This ques tion was addressed to me by a lady in com pany, concerning a gentleman who had ren dered himself, during the evening, peculiarly agreeable. Before I answer that question, I said, I would like to see hint at home. I would like to know if, when he jars his wife'S feel ings, he says,," Beg pardon," as Smilingly and promptly as. when he stepped upon yonder lady's dress. I would like to know if, when he comes home al night, he hes some pleasant little thing to say, such as he has scattered about so lavishly since he entered this room this evening ; and whether the badly cooked dish, which lie gallantly declared "could not have been improved," would have found n similar verdict on his own table, and to his own wife. That is the text. I ant sorry to say that some of the most agreeable society-men, who could, by no possibility, be guilty of a rudeness abroad, could never be suspected in their own homes of ever doing anything else. The man who will invariably meet other la dies with "How very well you arc looking," will often never, from one day to another take notice of his own wife's appearance, or if so, only to find fault. How bright that home would be to his with with one-half the courte sy and toleration he invariably shows to strangers. " Allow me to differ'," he blandly remarks to an opponent with whom he argues , in company - , "Pshaw I what do you know about it?" lie says at his own fireside and to his wife. Children are angels when they be long to his neighbors; his own are sent out of the room whenever he enters it, or receive so little recognition that they are glad to leave. " Permit me," says the gallant male vis-a-vi' in the omnibus or car, as lie takes your fare ; while his wife often liauds up her own fare even with her hu4band by her side. No won der she is not "looking well," Irlien she sees politeness is for every place but for home-con sumption. " Oh, how men miss it in disregarding these little matters," said a sad-eyed wife tame one day. And she said truly ; for these little kind nesses are like a breath of fresh air from an open window in a stifled room ; we lift our drooping heads and breathe again I "Little !" did I say ! can that be little which makes or mars, the happiness of a human being ? A man says a rough, rude word, or neglects the golden opportunity to say a kind one, and goes his selfish way and thinks it of no ac count. Then lie marvels when he conies back —in sublime forgetfulness of the past—that familiar eyes do not brighten at his coming or the familiar tongue voice a welcome. Then, on inquiry, if he is told of the rough word, lie says : "0 -o-h ! that's it—is it ? Now it isn't possible you gave that a second thought? Why, I forgot all about it !" as if this last were really a palliation and a merit I It would lie ludicrous, this masculine ob tuseness, were it not for the tragic conse quences—were it not for the loving hearts that are chilled—the homes that are darkened—the lives that are blighted— and the dew and promise of the morning that are so needlessly turned into sombre night. " Little things !" There are no little things. " Little things," so called, are the hinges of the universe. They are happiness, or misery ; they are poverty, or riches ; they are prosper ity, or adversity ; they are life, or death. Not a human being of us all, can afford to des pise "the day of small things."—Funny Fern in the X. Y. Ledger. . A WOMAN'S DREAMS She sat alone in the mbonlight, her beauti ful cheek resting upon her band, so soft and white and dimpled. You could tell, as you looked at her, that her thoughts were far away, and that she was thinking of something beau tiful. Her eyes were wistful.; the dimples in her cheeks had died out, and only the diniple in her chin remained, that little rosy cleft, the impress of Love's linger. She was less glow ing than at times, but none the less lovely. I thought to myself, as I looked at . her, that she was nenier heaven than we coarser mortals, and I longed to know whither her pure heart turned itself. I approached her ; she did not hear me. I spoke.; she did not answer. I touched her softly on the arm, she looked up and smiled, a far-away smile, such as an angel might have given. " You are thinking 'very intently," I said. She answered, "Yes," in a subdued tone of voice, as though that which was on het' mind was too holy for discussion. But I persisted : "Will you tell me what your thoughts were 4" I asked. She shook her head.' " You multi not un derstand," she said. "I could try," I said, humbly. "I am coarse and rude, I know, but I could still strive to comprehend." ' She smiled sweetly, but still with that far away look . in her dark eyes. "No, not mare," she said, "but yon are a man. It is so different with men : were you a woman you would understand at once. Now, perhaps, you . may smile, may laugh at me." "Believe Me, no," I whispered; "I adore the beautiful, the true, the pure. Let me know your sweet thoughts." Site gave me her hand... " I will tell you," she said_ "I have thought of nothing rise all day. Last night I lay awake thinking of It. I ant sttre I must be right ; but if I am wrong, ob ! if fam wrong, Edgar,. I tremble to think of it." • " You cannot be wrong," I said. She gave me her other hand.. "You think not V" she said; "ah 1 but you cannot be so good . n ludge . as a woman. think—l believe—" " Yes, yea," I whispered, bending nearer ; "yes, Angeline." "I am almost pure," she said, in accents softer than the ripple of fulling water, " almost sure, Edgar, that blue fringe will look better on my new walking suit than purple velvet. Don't you think so ?" -CRUELTY TO ANIMALB.;-" What do; you drille such a pitiful-looking carcass as that for? Why 'don't you put a good, heavy coat of flesh on him ?" asked a friend of an Irish carman, referring to. his horse. "A heavy, coat of flesh, mayourneen ! Be all the blessed powers, now, when the poor anther can scarce carry the little flesh there is on 'i n n !" PSTA I ItS, •LLENTOW! PA
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