PFRLIN & SLOAN, PUBLISHERS. VOLUME 24. — Td iet Vottrt). A WAY WITH °LOOK. 1111 JOB( TLONAUII. Spurr the lines which sorrow traces: laugh the ills of life Werelj. • They who wear the gladdest fano • tlssys lire the longest day. Why c omplain. , thangh tbstatic press thos ? Why repine at lowly birth, Mule contentment still essay bides dm* With the joys of pealing mirth Art thou rich in pounds and rubles?. Dort thou sleep'on beds of down? Laugn t., see how wain the boobies Which deceive the gaping slows. What though now thy years are many, And thy locks are taring gray; Haat thou not s hops or any Joy beyond thy mortal day f Thou last dreamed perhaps aeon; Fate has held thee ander boa; soil unknown to song or story - Thou moat be a merry man. Tell not after gilded wiser; Let not woe thy sold ; r“r the earth is fall of Oases. offered thee wlthowt IL prink It :Ft thou speak of eaves and troalbllsa ? rare• and troubled, whay disy Notlong more that Ileadag babbim, . tcna•6 a laugh may drip) away. . . Laugh. and awls the Paw to liatoa •: 7 guot all gloomy &licit/ down ; Thu! !hull Tire forget to hasten, And e'en DEATH relax his frown. (]toict Visttilaugl HE GOLDEN THREAD! A PRIZE T'ALB; BY MSS CAROLLNE CRESEBRO', r •,f -Dream-Land by Daylight;" "The:Children." ;From M B.WM►t 'Weekly 5...) w in a school at a convent. 1. my record to be a setting forth of creeds?— igels and Ministers of Grace defend me" omething lieside -creeds to write about at ..-nt—myself. My ambition is not to make lct •s—it never was—nor am I purposing to ..he "Story of a Soul." Tale - I have to offer will appea; ,VerY like lleetion of fragments. You have iheard of T A rapids? Like Ahem, the leading incidents Sum lives tower above the dead level of the Like them, the incidents of my life tower memnrr.. What secures for vanished time a mmy creature'n re))ollection? The bone kindled—the bonfires that we kindled; the of ambition, and pride, and passion, for ne tumuibi in iititich engaged; Vie bun- •h a t kid a climax; the feasting and- revalry, v". 4-tut wild with delight; the marriage hial, that particularly cotteerned • 61i , i; tho 1, we which perchance was still brief u burials that were speedily per -I.oA:back—only look back, and survey path , . ki r which you have come thus far, you -ee h.sr psi also have lived by snatches— •ar experience has likewise beewfragmen- V.O will understand . that while making -moral it has been with me as thong*, I ',king through the "wavering vistas of a , 11 . -,-gazing on the phantoms - of "Shadow CHAPrZii I. 1-tate,l to Charlotte Winslow, I haii!been , Vravent four years: But for all that I Romanist—am not—nor ever shall be. an. , I there then? "Thereby hangs this I: ra, a c , ,mfortable home. Could i then do, nr . - than love it? A comfortable home-- 14-k and what meaning have those words! had recollections which I had serer a-Ith ruy school-mate during those four ei A..me. of these -were sad, and some of u , rt gro ions, and some—how terrible!— . •!, the -re were very bright and beautiful. I ..,r‘t entered St. Mary's as a.pupil and the scholars there assembled ad • • , r i-y ul inc in. their studdies,"and, for. 1.... rt, much older than I, that I did 1.. z.„ • h.• friendship,hardly to association of 7 % w t't th to: 1 was alone—l , felt !lope •t•-• a t •tal:ving: 1 had a protector who k, Loy safety, if not my life. I • Itrppy hearts, bright &beg. nrITY •TM• 4.r.! ail around me, and a stranger-tatot not have singled me from a, obviously not of the group m. This was much. But the h :j in my . m e mory. - Like a ruin , i,• creeps=while the world knows ruiu or the vine. with me. I lived ski& in my na4 I ' ' Hut s hen my Chariot& came! in ;1;. :rank, eartlesm of the opinions of th 1 i 1,, 3,1 upon with moist dread; cs 1. ill turn the school-girls tyraist, i he r those she loved, too far. t"'''. and, perceiving my loneli .lake with nie, and - thought , • me. began to .live a new a ::1 , arlier recollections I would ape rt I had lived on the banks of the I_ 7 .a a t ful and' Weaned .home. I had (punier, where villainy . , and can congregate. I had lived on plaiu., of peace, and lit a drawler abode r.i. du portray. But not only poverty, 4,1 , vrry depredation were around us ''." 11 14 u•t in the see, and rnocking, and OW great Heaven! as I.ponder at nt ~t 1 the myriads helplessly Some, as ",•• I 0 .1 rerdstless fate through the avenues • ,v,u, down to the mespool of creation th, human nature becomes almost of ne :, br u t h,h, and the soul to all outward seem- It appvars to me most marvelous, it seems rt•kitlMl, that the crying of those poor u thwart's 'rune, Amid sot appal sad 'firt tile heart of that yea eitat. it should 44 suite its people , to seise ea otoo somo to tla ` ti tut and ,salntios et ihe heaths" y jW lisidot• ' We lived on the beaks ot the Hogision s, ~ • . . . • . .. . ... . •• I. . , . . . '--... • • - , . . • . . . ' r . .." ... . ' . . . . ... . • . . . - .. J . . t . . fr ~ .4 . . . . I y . . . .. _ .. _ , . 4. . „ _ .. . . - . --f• . - . - • 14. '..;._.i '. , • _ • .o, ... . . . ~ — .. , .N . ... ~ • . , ~ I 1 , . r 1 ./..' • . '1 . . . . a • • ' ' . . . . . . ."-- , - e .. . . • . . . • . . • house was fashioned in Gothic style. It stood on a prominent height, and from the river did not look unlike pictires of castles I have seen. The grounds belonging to the place-extended in land to some distance, and along the river bank nesily half a mile. Down the bank was my fa iher's boat house, and Joseph and I had our play house close beside it. Distinctly to this day do I reeollset the walks my mother and myself had on the great piazza id the mornings when we watched the steamers that went up and down the river—the white sails of the schooners, how beau tifally they were! I remember how the sunlight fell upon the lawn those summer mornings when the dew was on the grass, and the trees were full of singing birds. It. Was on that piazza in the summer time, that we learned our lessons, Joe and I, and there we recited them to our mother--our mother who was young then, and as happy and gsy-hearted as her children. This home ind all that surrounded it, filled my mind with images of beauty. The squirrels which we chased through the grove; the splen dor of the autumn woods; the days we went nut , Ling in them; the gorgeous pictures presented by the opposite beaks of the Hudson, in the spring and autumn—these are things I can never' forget. My motheriwas a lovely and accomplished woman. She b id a sweet, firm voice, full of mel ody. The sons she ushd. to sing for ns, accom panied her guititr, wheni father took us , out for a mil upon liver , ti ger yet in my thoughts, though *0 ind tunetsre loot. But ourwast e glory of our house.— He was our old. - worshipped him. 'Hie word was our law is • was our pleasure.— Ohr mother's devotion to him was our example. It was by love and not fear that he reigned in all our hearts- . These were out days end years of perfect hap- piness. They came to en end: , We removed, for whack purpose Joseph and I endeavored in vain to :;prehend, from our lone ly home to a small h further Op tie river, further inland also. Ide not recollect the ei"eitts immediately preceding the, removal, but well do I. remember the day i t u it took plasm. We went in the carriage; fati r and mother, Ruth our , untie, and we children. ' It was like going to a funeral--scaroely a word - erten, but a great many tears were shed. ' - . In the new place we only a bit of garden ground. No grove, no gsp ndid flowers, no lawn, no hood, no joy. Ev ing we prised most in the old home was left beh dus there: Not one of the pictures mother l e ved so well, not even those she had painted, went with us—only a fei of the plaiieet pieces of furniture, and the dog Nero. - This was Joe's Effie 'iiel . aiilinal. — CO birds, and the beautiful Newfoundland dog, the ot - tbre've things we lost sight hind ue. The place, • - •ti been ' sold. We were a ruined family, driven from. our Paradise, and the sword of . the law_ ex cluded us. In the new home we must have lived a year or more, when the won't of all misfortunes fell upon us. Our father was taken tansy from us. • - • What had become of li . He bid not . been ill - he was not dead—he t from home wide other gentlemen, andtint mother wee very ill fpr many days, sad we a dreary time sit ting lathe kitchen so q • y, for we had no heart for play; while Bath Tam in the sieirroo,, ilitaay attending to our mothei. We knew that be ryas li • . for when we be gan -to,thisk, beg:gums , wept - so wick and ii +mg, he did not come, that. be . eat really have died, Joeephasid to her the finalmorning that we were admitted 'to our mother's Oak room, "Only tell us, is fiaher deed!" and she answered, speaking very rapidly after a long • • , 'ies, to us he is deed." Afterwards , ben, not satisfied with this reply, we began to again, " isn't be dead to every body, then--isn't 4e7" she said : ',Chil dren be is gone,' and you . not see him agg4n : If you love me—you are chat I have left--say s um no more about it." , I She did not speak, spirit thy. t we knew we if we d had 4Litermined to she shed were solleient, to had not become • tears. It seemed to as • When we had left her , "Elsie, be ante that Son but I'll find out what it'jo. Ruth, for. she woold go what mother went to the rick--bat don' t ray 'myth A abort time after mot her room we made another left ws • We went into New Yor pleasant country into a Mather took this step b t•nhe should go to, woi us i • when we Wima on I\ l, reams with what own She was say to her oak on her children, 4 igouraga be fed and clothed!" . I' i She went dam' to work lindeed: To toil and meet with failm+-40 hope and be diaappOinted, to do and die! I know it fill now.' It was to la bor against fearful odds-rto fall utterly. With: out friends, without patrons, without a glance of recognition, or a word of sympathy—to labor against fear, to labor deapetately and vainlY. To go forth froth the' emthsoe of lore, and the shel ter of home, to grapple single-handed with "Aver shy. It must have been a grievous work, for it wasted her life away. Anxiety, and care, and dis a ppointment, and grief, and want—these are potent agents. They are net long in doing Aga' work. And still, grappling with all these, she toilet on, though fainting and afraid, until there came a climax to it all. -- • Shall I tell the story of exhausting labors that invariably meet, with inadequate recionpror, of the toiling for unjust, dishonest, and unconseiona; ble employers, of the struggles of the mother's hands and heart; of thewactifice offered day and aightecatiaussorr*, tint was ;tot inaird givemay to tema when *gig* ht have lesiV Sas 1014 diet karst**, weer times to vim, ► Olt, to _spans of if thd:rarely found an utterance, that was made dumb for the children's sake? Shall I tell how one work was resigned for another—the artist's for the needle•woman's; of the descent we made from avenue to alley; of vain struggles with the fate that bore upon us; of wrestlings with all the coarser and brutalizing influences which are brought to bear upon the "oondition of the poor? Shall I touch upon the then+ .of temptations which beset the beggard, the disheartened, the forgotten of mercy, love and justice, I had almost said of God? Why shoUld I speak of these things? Why will not the dreadful recollection fade away? It will not fade--it need not! ! I am content to retain it.. I spoke of the Paradise on the tanks of the Hudson, from which we were driven amity. Go you to "Paradise Square," and ask for the histo ry of some you shall find there. You may chance to hear ;a story such as my mother might 'have told, had any come to us with intent of Chirity or Christian Love, while we dwell there: Per there at last did we find ourselves. There, in that centre of pollution, degradation and woe. Beyond that, unless we plunged into the waters of abom ination, and suffered the waves of moral death to roll over us, we could not go. Thank God! though we stood beside those waters, our feet were Dever laved by-them. , ' PrOna, the d 4 on which we wont to livein this , dre mit ul quarttr of the city; the day when we for 1 the l timn ascended those steep and filthy flights ot sti rs, that led through darkness, en veloped with 6 atmosphere which . it was pollu tionli to breal e; from the day of entrince into the room, of , w ch I cannot aim think without ' a shudder. of horror and floods of tears, di cheerless, so vile, ind so abominable was it: from that aw ful day oar mother was as one dead. he had worked, and starved herself, and killed herself 1 in vain—we were-here - at last. - - 1 She* died there: In that mineable room, vile beyond description, comfortlesi beyond the tell ing our mother died: J.oeeph, on our removal thither, joined the. ar my of news-boys, and went about the streets hawking papers. Our darling little Joe: And in, here, surrounded by evil in every shape, we lived. And if nay mother in her trouble did not forget to pisy,l this I know was the petition to which her heatt, gave utterance that we might die together. • - In - the chamber directly underneath our owp, iiv T d another widow, and her lion. The boy was older thawdoseph, and had the same occupation; he was kind hearted, and Manly beside, and soon beCame the best friends. Ile was unlike a other childrni_st aft 114. tune and not vice had brought them to that plaee, mid there was no probability that they would re- Plain there long, for both the mother and son us to feel their loss as a new misfortune when they moved away. Joseph and I never. played in the "beet, or in the square with the other chil dren in the neighborhood. We had done with sports and' games, bat manp a pleasant time we hid in the German woman's room, after mother was staleep, listening to the legends she would tell us, and harkening to the songs that she and Nicholas sang. • It was on a ,New . Year's day that they went away. Joseph was in the street, and E was with the Vauebvalk's assisting them in such ways as I could. When their few ebattlea were ready for removal, the good woman went with us into my mentho's room to chat with her for a moment, and to take her leave. I stood by the window of their den,-lUokinginto the street. There was a &De ng prciCession moving by. It did not make my spirits lighter, watching that careless train of wretehed men and women, and - thinking that perhaps poor Joe and I might soon be following a body to the grave yard. Nieholat came and stoodbeiide me, and with me looked from the winch,* tinitUdeiwhere we shall all be nett :New rear,4 be said. The bare shgrstion made me. weep. **Six," he went on to say more ebee , :foU, for wheneiver others were Kul, his-apidttysseem ed to lighten. He Wax a happy hoy, as-bold and as dauntless as any hero, and always ready to . sing and laugh; especially if the day wax gloomy, and, his mother, who was nearly as cheerful as himself in disposition, seemed inclined to fret a . "8oe," he said, "I'm going to uuttle'yon a preseut, Elsie, that you must always keep.— Clive ,tne your anger." . Init with such a hear no more; and ,It further, the teats Oenou us. As yet we to the sight of her ble when she_wept. Joseph said - to we, t say anything more, II means. Don't ask lierying too. IL kow fy for before obi was. I , I'll Ind it one : was able to leave Wkwe, awl then Ruth I put forth wy hand ine►hanically; ashamed of mY tears, for whenever he spoke I always began iminedlitely to think and believe that there was really nothing in the world to cry about. the &Oh and' w, crowed street. He bad in his fingers a bit of golden cord or thread, which he had picked up somewhere in his last journey as a newsboy; and this he began to wild about my finger, and tie closely and se tmely in a double knit. 1 watched him, utter ing not a ward. When it was done, he looked up into my face, and said, "Now, remember El sie, as long as you live you're tiko keep that ring, aid when you look at it y9rmuit think that you hive nothing to cry- for-=that. it's a very good world to live in, after You must remember what I told you about the fairy who leads people along by a golden thread, and no matter wheth er they walk in rough roads or smooth, it's all the tame; they don't know the difference asiong as she leads 'em. keep fast to the thread.— Nobody will steal , it, for lob* besides you and me knows what its worth. Will you keep Lt?" I promised him fidt ! hfully that I would, and I felt richer from that, moment. I know the fairy began that instant s lead me along, and I have never lest•my trust her to this day. it wits aermery in wine* sbn ink' gay to the they. I • of Haile she maid it. while she looknd op _ coinage: they; oust Before Joseph re t arded home they had gont I stood upon the doily step when they went away, Nichobis beading under the load of gouda which he emieit-on his bola, his cheerful' voice *wind ing in my ear almoist 14.4 hong as I could see them, when they went up the street. Almost 11.4 longl' Did I ever forget its And though 1 knew how niach we should miss them day and night; and that we were nowiruly mire alone in that savage Plies Aim we had been licretoftweoitlll I had no WY wsep ). er groan, as I climbed the atiliows7 to *• Noloizoling WNW war 81 50 A YEAR, ERIE, SATURDA the boLhss 'hoise.ol I beside. . CHAPTIIai It was a st or my New Y day, and early In the afterneen it became so in our nom this I was obliged to light the , in order that I might finish the work whit had swami in ter of a down town merchant - she fell ill. At seven o'clock Joseph ' ions, but• the dandle had long before that' burned to its le socket. It was too late for to go into the street in search for another, .., Mt there in to tal darkness, and in silence, timing that mo . tier slept. ' , I was impatient to finish r4nork and waited , with eager listening until J ob should come. But when he came, I had the of the Vaunch valk's sudden move to tell hind he seemed so wear when he flung apps the 'kr beside me, aid hinds - l iny lap, Ma I was 80 interested in my own story, that I entire ly forgot about my work, and the candy, and everything but that which I was saying. While I was thus whispering to him in the lowest tone of voice, we heard mother also Whis pering but hoarsely, and urgently, like one in haste, "Elsie! Elsie! Joseph!" In an instant we were beside her, answering her, and waiting to hear what she would say.— Often had we laid - beside her on that lowly bed, and her dear arms had enfollled us, but now there was no emotion, and no* fuikher words. It was so dark that we could not see her or each other, but when I crept dose to her lode, and said,— "Here we are Mother, Joe and I," her silence stilled the }nigh with which I spoke, and when Joseph, groping for her hand,. said, "You were asleep when I came in, mother. I've not been here long, have I Elsie? But it's the Swfulei;t, night!" and still she did not answer, 'great fear Tomeseedl me. I leaped front the Boor. I tried to re-light the wick• that was left of the candle. While making this fain effort, Joseph cried out, "Quick ? quid*: Elsie! Elsie!" I know well what that shriek meant. I ran from the ruom, and in an instant more was back agim. By that fading, flicker light 'we looked on our dead mother! In all that house—that enormous bnilding n . where the wretched of every rude and hue lad found a shelter, one room alone,. that darkened chamber which death had entered, was the only room where quiet reigned that night. Elsewhere, through its length and briadth, were Ilrunkeness and riot. Thus surrounded, and with fear and anguish in our hearts, did we strive until we had need, to tell each other that the work was Aredlviroierr- low•Omara. - our exertion, and convinced, in spite of ourselves, of the vanity of such Labors, we threw - ourselves 7 — f.--14light when 1. Q r . • •,..„,,_ r isserf„ - -ter ray was streaming through our chaniber than' ever found its way through the tiny window panes when -the sun was rising. The gleam was only momentary, yet an it Seabed over my clos ed eyelids it thoroughly roused me. Not a sec ond could have paned before I was groping, for the door latch is the total darkness that succeed ed that flash of light. There was a suffocating smoke in the chamber. I heard the shouts of men and women—they were laughing, aad cur : . sing, and shrieking, like se many demons let loose from hell. Eternity seemed crowded into that moment when I groped for the , door,lss; as my band was upon the latch, lifting it—thee oor dew open before me, and a dense cloud of *eke rolled in. Qh Angel of Darkness aad Death! 'But it is not for me to makes lamentation on this 'day. For me the,lvaters of the flood have been divid ed, though I have trodd,s the path prepared for me, aloof! I shrieked to Joseph, bat he-did not hear. I called to our mother—buti the dead hear,not!— Frantic, I threw my arms about my brother, and dragged him from the bed. Had I but known for what I was waking him'. Poor fellow, it was only to save me, and to die a hero's death. When he was finally awakened, he litooll for an instant ;bewildered--then he dashed tOwar , Ls the doorway, to recoil again, crying, "the mtaini are on fire.' Oh, Eir'. And there we Mood, speeehleme, gating on each other.. ,• Another monutit and he was harrying me to the window, add together we look"d down mpon the scene. In the spire a group of idle pcople was gathered—the, tunes was a gay - sight for them. The boys were shouting and dancing about--inen kindling die* pipes by the blitzing brands, and women langking, cursing and jest ing with the men. No obe thought of 41—ao one among them knew that two orphan children were choosing then between the chances that wentromented Wore them, standing in the chant ber.of death, and oontemplating death together there. The sight of all thaw wretches— r their feat indifference, maddened Jcaielibi He cried aloud to them, beseeching their „aid, brit the rearing of the &wear and the eitiab of timber, had a sound, more mighty than the tekrified shrieks of a child. Pereeivil thia, he turned towards me. . "You are notAgoing to roast We must leap for itr' And' act or think, he had me in were dashing earthward from ed easement. They saw us With that leap, trouble, wan' at an end for hina—my little, cither New Year's gift had bet. the Golden t Thread--41 We my hiss{ber MC' rifieed for me. 1 - I „ hilhe Hospital to which we were i cure° he died, and me I knew mricss he nail but To what a loss did I! swam'. INct end - brother=-gone! 4 • Mighty sorrows comet )aes prostrate -uft We yield to them, are overcame of thorn. Hut it is not always ilk). tlespeneiou MOUNtilUers give us strength. We rise up, min &binds of the ills of life, and ildisk and adt an if all that We bad lost midd be regalusd,4•mewi,iniour . l t ,dad thus did I, *plea. *a grave plane 1a 1041iteilininitthathamairtg hobs itattml,—elmset J4ists4 had IlasioVaLy ADVANCE. MAY 21, 1853. Wok of aotakig warthkes life with his own, woo boned, I would apt tell where. :w"Whst n3ll you de? 'Where will you go?— Who are your friends)*" were the questions of the nurse who attended me in the Hospital; and to all she asked I could only answer, "I do not know." And I did not knew, - until thought be gan to connect with thought, and :recollection with recollection. And from a contemplation of the New Year's gift, which still circled a finger of my left hand, and which she told me- she had herself prevented the physician from removing when he dressed the wounds of that hand, be cause she fancied it might be a keepsake, I was suddenly hurried, by the recollection of the let ter that had been secured in my dress by moth er's hand before we went luto the neighborhood of Paradise Square. It was that day on which our last landlord made a seizure of all the fusi lier' wi had, es epting the bed, and a few other articles, which, for his pity's sake, he allowed us to take away to our next abiding place. After he had left u.i, my mother went from the room, bidding ua remain there together until she re turned. It was long' ere she came back again, and when she tune her face had that death-like pallor, andler eyes that startling glare that nev er left them from .that day. 'ln her hand she brought a letter, and this she gave to me and said, "I hive been doing a good thing for you, Elsie. Take thii letter and keep it—♦ day *ay come when you can use it. $e sure that you do not lose it." to earnestly did she speak, so impressed 'was It with the importance of the let ter, that I secured :it in my drops in such a way that it world be laic as long as the garment it self lasted. • Another week found me no longer, an inmate of the New York Hospital, but a resident in. a convent- 7 s pupil at St. Mary's. My letter was addressed to the Superior. The nurse at the Hospital was a Sister of Charity (richly she merited the name!) She had her self been ethunted by this Superior, or under the charge of her:those protection I was now seek ing. It - was this Dim and sister who had brought me to this plate, and here I had found a home and a friend. • We arrived at the convent early in the eve ning, my guide and myself. My letter was de livered by my guide. An hour . after I was shown. into the Siiperior's presence. She wel comed me is Christ's name; immured .me of her sympathy; bade me confide in her. Had she not been beautiful, and noble, and gracious, gentle of speech, and tender of manner, as she was, my ,heart had not failed to obey her, when she mid -.-siter_LbsiL. 4 had to tell, "My daughter,- you are welcome.— Trust in me as I shaltlLoY%lr SS 2 lotoor-PsTe-yea: Sh'e kissed me, and she wept, and seemed deeply moved. I looked_ upon the Golden Thread. I thought of the fairy of which Nicholas had told me, and I fancied that the ring looked brigher and purer thin =nil, and my confidence in the potency of the. fairy's efforts Was 'never stronger than at that happy moment. I bad lived' in this convent four years when Charlotte first came to St. Mary's, I said. Early one morning, shortly after her arrival, I was on my knees before one of the windiows of the chamber where we• slept. Not absorbed in my devotions, but watching the approach of a great cloud of snow, that advanced .through the valley from the south, leaving 9u the earth, for eat and river, tokens of its progress - as it moved along. - • The river was frozen; thP ground hard as rock. The sky, excepting toward the west and south, clear, and bright as steel. It was late in De cember, yet this was the first snow that had fal len, and it was a sight welcome to our eyes as we looked from the. convent windows. Charlotte Winslow was beside we, scratching her name with a pin on the frost-covered glass, and writing another underneath het' own, w ich she breathed upon ere it was finished, assuring we thai if she only dared to du it she could grave her name indellibly upon the pane with the diamond which she wore when she loune to the convent,. but which since that day had been laid out of sight, for no-baubles were worn at St. Mary'a. While I dreamily watched the rapid spread of the clouds, and the advance of the storm, Char lotte multihued working busily with the pin.— Finally she said: s "What's this like, darling:" - I looked, but lowing only divers and sundry marks, which bore about islnUch reeembhuiee to the signs of the dead language as they did to any other thing, askefl in turn: "fs it short . hand:" ME "Very likely,? I replied. "Eepeciallyif what you have done wean anything. I see nothing but scratches." "Nothing but scratches! Just observe. rus is the surface of the ground—a broad field in the midst of hills ; Hire is an immense hole. Down below is a great Of of darkness. c ' T hese are lamps, you stupid! The si a of the cave you perceive areliard as rock -see" how they glisten! Those are men—they work here—mid as -good as live here . Under 'gr . anud. Just think of it! Now! do you understandr :44 see no More than I did at first. Perhaps You are telling about a mine, or a well. But for all that I see nothing." - ~It is a nine. if 1- had you here--this is the unlit* of the rock yon see—l would place you in that great tub, and theinsta standing here by the windlass should let you down in the twink ling of an -eye." "In the name of wooder,., what put such an ides into you ileadr e il eselaimad.' "Oh," answered Charlotte with not the slight est hesitation, "j am imaginative, you knew., I shall make a better artist then you.. Ask M. Ng lists! 0,40 I had it in my milk* as taking this wad - 44 Artine'sy topkiioo„ pool could bsiin It ske K ea 11111 a. ~. CiLAITZIL 111 "lou want imagination sadly, don't you El , i , . i r c . Eli aboviihea Aug of gaits tkivad Tan warab.;4a it a charm of as amulet? 'Thereby hangs AAA,' I know, sod I am curious to hoar ii." "I have, s thousand times si least. Have you a lover outside the convent walls? I wonder the Superior lets you wear it, though to be ear s it's not mach of m ornament. Not much of 'a pomp and vanity."' I had no opportunity to answer again, for just then the chapel bell interrupted our lalk, and, drove away all thoughts save those associated with the duties awaiting us. A few days later Charlotte and I were walk tig with certain of the teachers and pupils of St. Mary's, in an avenue recently opened through the convent lands. As we cane in sight of a great excavation m*le for the new railway, I thought of Charlotte's etching and-said: "Hate drat =mimed that wonderftd imagine don oeiours any ftirfher ori the subject of mines since your sketch saw the lieu? Tell me a sto ry about it, do." ai I do." 'Why ehould'nt I?k ir sikall freese, I believe, we . poke along at such a ;mire psee. I'd give anything for a- race this morning. Do tell me some homlle story about those mines." "What mines? There's no getting clear of you. There isn't another such a tease in the school as. pm—poor little daub of an artist, El- ode Culverton! fdo wonder that I came to take each a fancy to you. The girls who are kept at a diitsnoe by your haughty temper, are well off they did but know it. They should bless their side for that same." "I am not haughty," I' said in quick resent met, "but I will always keep at is distance, from ,girlS who know how to do just one thing, and only one---to ask impertinent qne e tions. Yen may depend on that." "Tut—tut! why Elsie, for shame! ru tell you a story, though you are in a comfortable heat just now, that makes one guess you wont freeze immediately. Come nearer take my arm—there I Now do your beat to keep alive. You shall hear a story, never fear. And so the girls ask impertinent questions do they? Tell me what about, seam time, and PA silence them. " Away down in the depths of a great mine worked an old man, who bad labored there for twenty years. lie had a son, and a son's son, and daughter. And the children were twins. These were all his family : the.wives of the two men, the old and the young, were dead. The .old man's hair was white as snow; the young man's black as night ; the children had golden locks that gleam -ea-ES-eanshiee in the gloomy place. It may not have seemed like sunshine to others; but you ;4, is the fact. To the o man son the 'children' scurling leeks, their very selves, were like sungleams. They were merry children; they grew like weeds ,in the mine. They worked a little, but they played. a great deal, and they lav ed each other, and life, and every one loved them. One morning"—here Charlotte paused, and look ed long and earnestly upon the excavation the laborers Were , making for the railway, though the work had not advanced perceptibly since we last walked that way. Twice I said " Well ?" befute it pleased her to resume the story. " One morning the little girl had gone of mith one of the miners whom thichildren always! uncle; although there wait AWally no o:mo tion between them. For tvrong time she played about the chamber in which he was at work, but at hen she beetumeernary, and began to taw Ole 'obi fellow to lead- er back to the place where her father and brother were. This he could not do at once, so he gave her some of the smaller and duller tools employed in his work, that she might amuse herself until he could attend her. At last he was ready to go; he stooped to lift her in his arms, but just then' there was a loud crash, and a report, that echoed, and . re.echoed with mighty sound through all those vaulted chambere, The child and the man when they heard itrstoottsiock still, as if turned into pillars of salt, and the man's face was pale ftoii fright. Then he grasped the little one's hand, and with not a word, they ran off together towards her krl94lfather's field.' "'There had been it:dreadful catastrophe- an explosion--sad who were killed or wounded it was at first impossible to ear But the men look ed with terror on each other, so many of - their comrades were Missing. They left the little girl standing by herself alone, lions after hour, the men working witlmut pause, now and then bring ing out from the ruin the body ¢ f some comrade, dead, or dying, or horribly crhecl. Can you fancy her feeling ? You awn t. You have no imagination, I; remember, poor child 114, if yen only could geese it her feeling as she saw the old Man whoed hair was as - white as snow, and the younger man with the black locks, and her little goldenAminxi brother. It's a great pity, Elsie, that you have no imagination, for really if you could bring the scene before you as it actual ly was, you would not sleep again for a week to come. What sort of creature though, do you suppose that child might prove to be in the course of time, after MIA an early experience"' gi 3 y ' I looked at Charlotte. She was not smili as though her speech waa made in jest. Her es Were fixed upon the path before her with a 7e, liculiar look, and her motion as she went forward was strictly mechanical. Evidently her every thought was Tway in the dark cave of which'she hid spoken. She was commiserating the fate of the bereaved child. I could not resist asking— " Where did you read it f- And as Laiked it I thought that there was no great neoeasity'of my drawing on imagination for' scenes both horrible and strange—had not my memory an abundance of such recolleetione 1 Alas my little, darling brother: I drew closer to' Charlotte as I asked the ques tion. She seemed nearer to me, and dearer, sine I knew that she had dreamed of sorrows the like !twine' h I had *Ned Omagh. Skw answered me, " I read it in a trno book, _ - N What beams of• the e • i - 4 '0114" Maid, .. 11 *1 2 _, Pe ti l io ;=" l '0,1! pielaii,o4llol into Mile!, tbst "Drew on you imagination," allowed I "Ah, then you'll know 'tut much about mines ulster Aids to make you me a proper " When the chili mew the &run - 17'6i beketi her dead, she fell down at their low width** , word or cry, sad homedistsly gave up tai gineo s . ; Charlotte laughed at the abrupt tenahinthin I " 1 had given the tale. ~ "This is the way you ,waste such materiekl—. ;; No, the child ought to live, sad mat up out it. the mines like a wonderful elf, and ski Mufti& rat ~. a remarkable career among people who are ii the ' ' habit of living by daylight. She 'should hare _, a lover, and all sorts of trouble Olt hisemsonstr- 1 .- You would pot an end totter* esec - Whets, ...:-.;.-, idea; but,the be thing *I herself perhecollist , ~„ could be done." "Do you ever *bout mines, Clusriethe . 4 ; 0, - •roestatutr-i. ithout *mi. - I ham jes4 been doing that same ' - ye* sumesonsmdc.:, : l r , dream of them otnights to t ife s. ,..,,, looked at me with piercing curiosity, me dm mid this. " I had last night * vision almost as Mr. • Bible as this of which I've been smiting. I wee drying when I awakened." " Yes," I said, "I know you were. I thought _ Mhad some fright. You were talking about ines too." " Psis, I want to ask yon some , hapirtirmit iinestione—you say the rest of the gide as." -1 " Say on Ciariette.r_ , • , " Row long here you been at & illitufe 7 - 121 ion tell ate?" 1 . 1 " Four years." - a Where did you live biding) e - , "In New York." ~' •i ' - " rve had the, prom*, and- ajtall Sr:hem , sometime. It's a coat, plate to lietriwieirt Mt I've a presentment something - old will boo there to me, soak day." "(Treat? Yee—'very. Aleeirosetptladhp , deed." . , " Are you gong to remain lee P" . . " What—alweys do 'Yee mean' t. !• ~ y e ku ! • 2 1 • "I ." . • " Yon have friends Resides-them in tliss• set tent, of ccrurse." -. L *-: - - - ' , .t., " Why of amine e, - - ,... ,... - - " Everybody has. /hem" l ,-. ~ _ " Then if eirmyhody hes, I lift NC vas Will please to ask me im Mors* base - - " And you mint tell me how dist, sintaint on your finger." - - " It belongs M the Eskimo—Wines' d mags." " Yon have came intsenet kin after aIIT 1114/1 Elsie, let me . lust tell you one thing, I MI in love at Silt sight, whin I came to the cam*" " With whom Charlotte!" " Yourself tsie. lam glad we set bails • • • e school room, and ra stood up you. 8. aso of girls was Uevervi. before Pll be sworn. Above all I'm so glad that we have both - a taste for the he arts. We will be rivals, and between us both Sister Anna be put into the shade before we leave, Pm think ing. Now, Pie Pre made my declaration, what do You Ws; of liter- ", I bleu th 6 day you cum! I thouight I should die after Lydia Warner went Isome;nad I believe I should have done so if you hadn't ems. Eni you did come, and ad• I'm aline." " Don't you long for her sister's smarter "I did till this monnin& but I don't ors a ilg about it now." "Consider yourself hugged in the wariest possible embrace for that oonfaision. I blurs with my spirit, Elsie, it would - be a hulou af. /ince if I ga l sre the outward and Tisitda sip him in the open thoroughfare." That was' a atemorible walk. • mums tir. • It may have bees)* fortidgbt altar this walk and conversation,-that a package mats hoar Nevi York, a gift to the 4:lnvent from Lydia Waraer'i mother, which consisted of two Faistipth Pm" chased by her at a scent Baia. • I wits studying in the school room =al s late hour; for when I heard that the present had ar• rived, I Localize ski Much excited about tie Pic tures distil forgot, ray books;, eoossquemtly wham called *upon to reoitea lam not a word Ce ea] lesson----therefore lair* no aMationabis ease% I was obliged to commit it to my !may ease school was dimnies4 and this recite it * ' • By the, time this *malty was paid, it was user ly dark, and, as I Went front the school few t perceived that the girl* had alt returned nwea tin afternoon exercise. Charlotte Winslow net ins in the corAder; she hod cone in sear* of on. ‘‘ Come, I have lniftMW'yetir want to shoir you the striae* *tare piss ever laid eyes on, hefbre it gets darker." She tOok my hand, and we harried tun ihe re fectory; nit this ipsinting was plead se Os wall °m i ni the three windows widish opined Mt- . the garden. Late au it was,. the Vit. ilia A& 7, - upon the picture was quite lamed 10. 10 ,4 the shadows gathering in the great roost civil: bet to heighten the effect. The instant I otmiprehended faintness and 'dirtiness came over roe; ohilik had experienced once in toy Ydr• Ast awful night when joseph iielik his arms from the buining hommi r mad Mai ter Iss. But I did not faint. Cluokotto satioo ; she had gone book to slut illst *me itz: the passage-way, that we Miettoiti,a,/aisi: 411144. was I that she did not obsess it. - Whoa eLs returned, she passed me ripidgy, stebir " Come nearer I Here is limot this 4111111 Si . - please you. It pleases measitsistfially. mast like it. But did yos iw we lark** queer? the namelof it it'll.", leuxinalle INL • They have such *apt = Alfas* slicitql. nor says; she wws It taws jailimit.. Look at those wpcua, toil!** 4164111*.e. 11 0" the Good hare El 0 II M
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers