Newspaper of Chicago Daily Tribune, May 25, 1873, Page 11

Newspaper of Chicago Daily Tribune dated May 25, 1873 Page 11
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LIMA. JLife in the Capitol ol Peru.* A Morning-View from tlie Hill of Cerrd Azul. Lights in the Market-Square—Spiced, Drinks—Chinese Cooks—Gam bling Tables. Cruelty to Animals—Flowers, Fruits, Birds, and Monkeys. ; A Street-Panorama—Beggars, Dogs, and Turkey-Buzzards—Water- Jars, Don-, toys, and Lottery-Ken. 1 • -Special Correspondenceo/ The Chicago Tribune. - Lima, Peru, S. A. Slay, 1373. This is the last of our fall, months, the Ist of .JTuno. being the'beginning of our winter. It - seems 'strange to live. in a country where the I summer and winter are reversed, and where ■. Christmas-day comes in. tho VERY HOTTEST OP THE SUMMER. Christmas never seems like Christmas hero, and one wants with his roast turkey the accompany ing evergreen bonghs. the cold snow-storm, and the blazing fire, to make it seem, suitable. “When you sit down to your Christmas dinner, with ladies attired in white muslin and using fans, land with flowers in bloom all about you, and yourself in white linen coat and pantaloons, you do not relish the plum-pudding and brandy- Bsuce, and your turkey seems altogether out of character with tho surroundings. A Christmas .-dinner in Peru ought to consist of ices, fruits, And cooling viands. Coming, this morning, from my early walk to ■the Market-Square,—which, in its Oriental strangeness, forms so attractive $ picture to a foreigner,—l ascended to tho summit of the hill ofCerroAzul, which overlooks the entire City of Lima, and far but seaward,' as far as Callao. Xike the shifting scenes in a panorama, WHAT A GLORIOUS VIEW lay spread out before me ! In the distance, the emerald sea, with the beautiful harbor at Callao, . covered with ships of all nations ; clustering on the shore, nativebuts, of bamboo, and cane, and -adobe, surrounded with the tall palm, and cocoa nut trees; then, Callao, with its minarets and •• towers of Moorish architecture, gleaming in tbs :first rays of the morning sun; then, fields after fields, surrounded with thick adobe walls, and growing olives, bananas, oranges, figs, and other -tropical fruits, in 'the greatest abundance ; then, waving fields of com and other grain, and tho Eiver Eimac winding like a silver thread among the groves; and, finally, tho oye rests upon tho sohd walla that encompass tho City of Lima,—this “ old City of the Kings,” as it is called and, at the very foot ■of tho hill, you look down upon the Market -. Square, now thronged, with early buyers. What strange sounds, and sights, and smells, ‘ come up from below us, as we look down upon . - tins foreign scene! Booths and bazars, of : striped canvas; with the sides open, surround the ; market-building. Native women, with striped bandana turbans, tied in the most' striking .knots, aro bearing great trays of tho SPICED yATIVE DBINES t«f the country, with glasses and enps,—bal ’■ cueing them very adroitly upon their wo—y tiheads; and are busy supplying, the, customers, ‘ "Whose jfest errand, each ‘ morning, before en gaging in marketing, is to buy some of these The most palatable of these is called ,•« foseo ” a drink made of pine-apple distilled, - d' which leaves a very pleasant, cooling flavor in the .'lonth- There is also' a fermented drink, ca l le d,i c .'ucha,’’which is made from pea-nuts, ’and still from BOm °* what to our ale; Tt » e will mtomcato. awnings of canvas, are- Seated under e *j gu> -• - ■ t ~. - cm. apron? of white, ■in white paper caps « * sy with pa ini-oU, and long, bnuded pig-tads Mlj rf ble Spanish them shrill voices rising, j Bit ,fj, eBO chilia . jabber, up to too hill whi •„ hote l reßtau . -men are the cooks of nearl. as these rant, and pnvate family mj, w’fcnt the buying cooks do not only the coot WO rth while to and marketing, it would be ■w. tboy ma k e notice the sharpness of _the barg Bingle article the chaffering they have oyer over -.j&Snentand they purchase, and the excellent j ats veEe . economy with which they select L fami tahlos, fruits, fresh rolls, etc., etc., foi dies they represent.. It is a known. - these Chinese cooks can buy a bettor m*. ‘offp-eater variety, for less money (anu manage to keep back* few. pennies for Uk selves, which perquisite is always allowed them ** than any other class of persons in the world.* The question is often asked ine,’ if they are heat. They are the most tidy and neat of any class of coMcb, if you get a neat one; but, if your choice falls upon a' slovenly one', he will prove the moat flirty of his species. ' Let us enter on© of thesebooths, and, seating ourselves under the striped canvas-awnings, cairn aloud fob V AQOAnmrrE ” (a native liquor). How quickly the native wom en, with jars of this compound on their heads, and glasses in their-hands, swarm around you Women hare of head, of arms, of neck, and-of foot, swarthy and black, with countless beads, charms, and amulets-dangling from their necks. How deftly they wait upon yon!—how eagerly urge their drink's upon you! What queer little red-brick jars they pour them from, rattling with bits of ice and the rind of a lemon. Let us stroll around the Outer sides of the market, and see the little -tables under the arthes, where dnthe native'curiosities are for aalei Nativolaees, corals, .fancy silver orna ments, all have theirtables, and thairpurchaserß. Eero are the _ \ . El)irj?n Proverbs. “He who L teaches himself between two ehips willfiortainly .drowneoV'• ••• „ “Shame is worse than dcAth. “He who weiips from hie i,eart will provoke gam- in B c conntry s±sasi;xsra Emporor ’ tikoe B againe^neand although the familr wait for a late breakfast. the sams Bt ®® 6 ' . ■ • Now theG o’clock hell peals from the old . “Ton : nmy pmse the *,f W™ a n the^gfw™trw S o^TSo e r4ich (flattering) tongne soon the different alalia cross themselves and mnt- n “i l “ > a .^£ aw tho Bparrow never sow mountains. begin to como in on horseback,-with to„ 2r ov^‘ „ nM i flnt , Tin i _~.: n h* «wal freah oggs| vegetables, milk, butter, cheese, and “V* spoken-word cannot again be swai fowls, fbe Indian C T Ho whoso heart is full soon finds a loose - •• • ALL RIPE ASTKIDBj , , ■ n frith the Terr smallest of feet, and no stockings, ■ _ i arfrn i>lnf'ka of but the feet thrust into tiny^ embroidered slip- ; ‘‘fmoko 11265 IrCm largfl WocI “ 01 pern, and tho hands covered with diamond nngs ‘ wooo. dead u o n.” ssa - " opl “ long glossy . braids of , etraight ; ™ho £ ™ horseback no longer knows Uack hair, and a man’s Panama hat Bets low on fat hor. (The armed man on horse their.foreheads. See the poor fowls, tied with oven rr„ Mu noarnot relation 1” r d “'Whon you die, even your tomb shall be corn down as they dangle from the hom of the saa J ! £ -‘Men speak to each other by words; animals '"“ fan is caught by his tongne, an ox by his downward from tho saddle, whilo the woman wtich iB taken with the milk only earned an immense jar of fresh butter (put up „ n „„ ont BOD i. faults contracted in in bladder-skins), and a can of milk was slung P*,® flinimnaar bnt with death. - )” tto other side her horse. Now comoe along a (1 P mont j l ne ver remains hungry.” &Uto”b g ack. with°tbo I poor°sEeefa J“ Do not fasten up yonrgannent until yon see + “Redoes not how. to yon : yon must bow *«• *?. POrU * the parson visits yon, don’t bo ovor jntnebmte creation treated vnth . i oye d; he will soon begin to beg.” * *i. fires systematic ceiheltt. _ “Aereat head hp-s great cares.”• to the market are Bold eqws whose i( g doCB notl f oin the head, but in ago.” ll “dSed b on o eof afexooUom “ Ejery^ n S t &^ f “ ag00d ; hOI8e: ‘ fora nte bnrfenj- r — to 8 hke l < “ bm inside; the Sp nfVtSl S -promises, wa should Boon more beggars; wllwSl go to the market-side, where are ovmgbody How the B amonc J!t!u Some, Hour' 60;pIaln ’ she spicy, aromatic odors, down long arcades of blooming exotics and fragrant foliage; orange and lemon tree, in full bloom,"bud; and blossom; cocoa-nuts, pine-apples, fresh figs, and banan as, in immense piles, among the plants; thou sands of birds that sing, and paroquets that chat ter, and the largo Spanish cockatoos, that swing and whistle among tho shrubbery,—all tame and without cages, and all for sale at a mere "song. Almost naked, ousky Cholo children swarm around you, offering you' every conceivable rrti -cle, whether of birf, flower, fruit, or curiosity; Numerous little - monkeys , grin *at you from wooden perches, •’ whore they are chained; awaiting a purchaser; and little fat negro girls. from tho age of 0 years upward, squat upon their bare foot along tho curbstones under the- market-awning; making native linen laces, of all 1 kinds and tex tures, on littlo bobbies and cushions; and it-is astonishing to see the rapidity with which their fingers fly. ‘ 1 i But .the sun is now high, and the market people are departing in crowds.' hot us leave with them, and go to our excellent native break* fast. Since breakfast, I have been standing ever an hour, on my balcony, looking down the long, narrow streets, at ■ • _ : THE QUEER SIGHTS * of this Peruvian city. There was never a city of this size so filled with beggars and stray dogs, except some of the old cities described bv 11 Mark Twain ” In his “ Innocents Abroad. 11 Beggars ‘ sore of eye and unsightly of limb, call loudly upon 41 Deo/’ and whiningly importune the passer-by. And every beggar is followed by a vagrant dog, hungry ana watchful Strangest sight of all is the long-legged, black feathered, solemn-looking turkey-buzzards, who are the scavengers of Peru. See them stand at the open drain, or sewers, which, in some streets, ran through the very centre of the way, and which, are open and simply little running streams into which is emptied all the offal and filth of tho city. Now they peer, with keen, watchful eyes, at every scrap thrown into tho gutter, and, alighting In droves, quarrel and contend with tho prowling dogs over tho possession. It may be a few scraps of bread, a rind of an orange, or a dilapidated but tho contest is quite ns animated as to which shall possess the coveted article, DOGS AGADtST TOBKEY-BDZZABnS ; but the latter are victorious, and devour the col lar, broad, etc., with infinite gusto. Now, a mounted Peruvian dashes by, riding as if for life, and scattering the dogs and foot-passers be fore him, right and left, as he flies along. Here also wo look down upon open shops, with canvas back grounds, gorgeous with ribbons and native embroideries, and the national “manta;” and others, filled with scented drinks, fragrant with spices. Now I look down into a Moorish arch way, of yellow' adobe, revealing glimpses of a paved courtyard, sot round with latticed doors, and, at play at the centre, a fountain, shadowed by an immense banana-tree, and the courtyard filled with boxes of white lilies and roses. In one'.comer stands the HUGE WATEB-JAE,. which is filled daily by the waterman on his rounds, and which holds over a barrel. Drop by drop, from its base, if filters into an immense stone filter, and cooler as well; and lean see now, what in my childhood always was a stum bling-block to mo in the story of “ The Forty Thieves,” how Morgiana could have smothered the robber in the jar of boiling oil. It used to puzzle me, in tho legend, to know how the rob ber could have gotten into a water-jar; but I can easily see that a man could securely hide in these, as in a barrel; and they are much higher ■than a barrel, and slope to a small base. Now comes by a string of sure-footed donkeys, their heavy bundles of brush-wood quite filling up tho narrow street. ‘ And here come the donkey-boys, who belabor the poor, patient beasts, and shout in incessant song. Then I walk to the other side of my balcony fit is on a comer), and look down into the wide, flagged streets, with arches overhead, and under whose alcoves are the finest of shops and tho most alluring of goods. And here comes my little water-carrier, sitting quite over the tail of his little donkey, with two kegs of water before him on either side tho donkey, and tinkling his little bell as he’ goes. Now a long procession of priests winds by, and the people kneel, and the men uncover and cross themselves. Now tho little humpbacked LOTTEBI-UAS goes by, crying bis tickets, a real each (10 cents), and telling of the 4,000 "soles (a sol is a dollar and a quarter) to bo drawn on 'Wednesday. (These lotteries are a legalized business, under the management of the priests, and prove an immense source of reve nue to the Church.) Now the sisters and friars or some bcncrolont ardor filo by, chanting as they go; and now come the business-men, just ready for their counting houses, sauntering leisurely along, cigar in mouth, stopping to chat with each passing ac quaintance, and forming a striking contrast to the rush and drive of our New York or Chicago city business-men. The Peruvians are dreamy, like their soft climate; indolent, like the atmos phere they inhale ; solemn and grave, as dwellers by the sea invariably are. And so the panorama varies, until busy day is ended, and THE “-rI mo AT. DUST” of a tropical evening settles over the city. Then the gnayanasoa (turkey-buzzards) wheel in long circles homo to the tops of the houses, and perch on the mitred heads of the Saints in the niches of the Cathedral.. And a deep, tender gloom, that is not Uko night, surrounds the city ; and the lull tops and the mountains grow blue and fade into mist, and the languid sea, just glides to the shore. There comes a shifting, phosphor escent gleam upon .the sea,. as it softly woos tho pebbly beach; and suddenly the sky kindles into ten'thousand myriads of stars, “ a vast mosaic,” and the air is fragrant with the salt sea smell. "And so deep night - settles over Lima. - ■ a Walda. W THE WATCHERS AT THE PORTAL. Dav aftfeT forevermore, ■ Two epewtr® 9 * and shrouded, stand ■■■ ind keep, thecpen door, •' a silent watch on either hand. •jVliatever fortune .euterelh •Or goeth out before their e?es, Vsr joy or sorrow, life or death, “ : *riift figures move not anywise. •n, it .dark across the threshold thrown, ■ lie two-fold shadow broods, wilklp : mf. • inectre of the dread Unknown 1 ’ ti. •phantom of the MigM-Lave-heen Kate Put. “ ,1 Osgood in the Christian Union. THIS .CHICAGO DAILY TlilßUftE: SUNDAY, MAY 25, 1873. MISS MEHETABEL’S SON. 11 King. Is there no offense In It ? 7 Ham. No offense V the world,” ’* : HtiTLBT, • THE OLD TAVEKN AT hATLEX’S .rODU-COBSEHS. , ' You will not find Greontoh,. or Bayley's Four- Corners as it is more nsnally designated, oh any map of New England that 1 know of. It is not a . town; it is not even a village; it is merely ah absurd hotel. The almost indescribable place called Greonton is at the intersection of four roads, in the heart of New. Hampshire, twenty miles from the nearest .settlement of. note and ■ten miles from any railway, station. A. good location for a hotel, you will : say. Precisely; bnt there has always been a hotel there, and for tho last dozen years it has been pretty well pat ronized—by one boarder. Not to trifle with an intelligent public, 1 will state at once that, in the early part of this century Greeuton was a point at which tho mail-coach, on the Great North ern Konte, etopped to change horses and allow tho passengers to dine. People in the country, wishing to take tho early mail Pbrtomouth-ward, put up overnight at the old tavern, famous lor its irreproachable larder and soft feather-beds. . The. tavern; at that time was kept by Jonathan Bayley, who rivaled his wallet in growing corpulent, and in due time passed away. At his death tho estab lishment, which included a farm,, fell into tho hands of a son-in-law. Now, though Bayley loft his son-in-law a hotel, —which Bounds hand some, —ho loft him no guests; for at about tbe period of tbe old man's death tbe old stage coach died also. Apoplexy killed one, and steam the other. Thus, by a sudden swerve in the tide of progress, the tavern at tho Comers fonnd itself high and dry, like a wreck on a sand-bank. Shortly after this’ event, or maybe contempora neously, there was some attempt to build a town at Qreenton; bnt it apparently failed, if eleven collars choked up with debris and overgrown with burdocks are any indication of failure. Tbe farm, however, was a good farm, as things go in New Hampshire; and Tobias Sewell, tho sori-in law, could afford to snap his fingers at tho trav eling public if they came near enough,—which they never did. Tho hotel remains to-daypretty much tho same as when Jonathan Bayley handed in his accounts in 1840, except that Sewell has from time to time sold the furniture of some of the upper chambers to bridal couples in tho neighborhood. Tho bar is still open, and the parlor door says Paulour. in tall block letters. ■ Now and then a passing drover looks in at that lonely bar-room, where a high-shouldered bottle of Santa Criiz mm ogles with a peculiarly knowing air a shrivel ed lemon on a shelf; now and then a farmer comes across country to talk crops and stock and take a friendly glass with Tobias; and now and then a circus caravan with speckled ponies, or a menagerie with a soggy elephant, baits under jhe swinging sign, on which there is a dim mail-coach with four phantomieh horses, driven by a portly gentleman whose head has been washed off by tho rain. Other customers there are none, except that one regular hoarder whom X have mentioned. If misery makes a man acquainted with strange bedfellows, it is equally certain that the profes sion of surveyor and civil-engineer often takes one into undreamed-of localities. I had never heard of Greonton until my duties sent me there, and kept mo there two weeks in the dreariest season of the year. Ido not think I would, of ■ my own volition, have selected Greenton for a fortnight’s sojourn at any time; but now the business is over, I shall never regret the circum stances that made mo the guest of Tobias Sewell and brought me into intimate relations with Miss Mehotabel’s Son. It was a black October night that discovered mo standing in front of tho old tavern at the Comers. Though the ton miles’ ride from K had been depressing, especially tho last five miles, on account of the cold autumnal rain that, had set in, I felt a pang of re gret on hearing the rickety , open wagon rum round in tho road and roll off in tho darkness. There were no lights visible any where, and only for the big; shapeless mass of something in front of mo, which the driver had said was the hotel, I should have fancied that I had been set down by tho roadside. Lwas wot to the skin and in no amiable humor; and not being able to find boll-pull or knocker, or even a door, I belabored the side of tho honse with my wtdk ing-stick. In a minute or two I saw a light flick ering somewhere aloft, then I hoard the sound of a window opening, followed by an exclamation of disgust as a blast of wind extinguished the cau dle which had given me an Instantaneous picture en silhouette of a man leaning out of a casement. “ I say, what do you want, down there ?” said an unprepossessing voice. “I want to,come in, I want a supper, and a bed, and numberless things,” “This isn’t no time of night to go rousing honest folks out of their sleep. Who ore you, anyway?” The question, superficially considered, was a very simple one, and I, of all people in the world, ought to have been able to answer it off-hand; but it staggered me. Strangely enough, there came drifting across my memory the lettering on the 'hack of a metaphysical work which I had seen years before on a shelf in the Astor Li brary. Owing to an unpremeditatodly funny col lection of title and author, tho lettering road as follows: “WhdArol? Jones.” Evidently!! had puzzled Jonea'to know who ho was, or ho wouldn’t have written a book about it. It cer tainly puzzled mo at that instant to define my identity. “Thirty years ago,” I reflected, “I was nothing; fifty years hence I shall bo noth ing again, humanly speaking. In the meantime, who am I, sure enough?” It had never occurred to mo before what an indefinite article I was. I wish it had not occurred to mo then. Standing there jn the rain and darkness, I wrestled vainly with the problem, and was constrained to fall back upon ft Yankee expedient. “ Isn’t this a hotel ?” I asked at length. “ Well, it is a sort of hotel,” said the voice, doubtfully. My hesitation and prevarication had apparently not inspiredmyinterlooutor with con fidence in me. “Then let me in. I have just driven over from K in this infernal rain. ,I am wet through and through.” “But what do you want here, at the Cor ners ? YHiat’s your business ? People don’t come here, leastways in tho middle of the night.” “It isn’t in the middle of the night,” ! return ed, incensed. “ I come on, business connected with the now road. Fm the Superintendent of the works.” » Oh!” •‘And if yon don’t open the doorat once. I’ll raise tUu whole neighborhood,—and then go to the other hotel-” When I said that, I supposed Greonton was a village with three or four thousand population at least, and was wondering vaguely at the absence of lights and other signs of human habitation. Surely, I thought, all the people cannot bo abed and asleep at half-past 10 o’clock; perhaps lam in the business section of the town, among the shops. ... .' . . - “ Ton jest wait,” said the voice above. This request was not devoid of a certain ac cent of menace, and I braced myself for a sortie on the part of the besieged, if he had any such hostile intent. Presently a door opened at the very place where I least expected a door, at the farther end of the building, in fact, and aroan in hie shirt-sleeves, shielding a candle with his loft hand, appeared on. the threshold. I passed quickly into the bouse with Mr. Tobias Sowell (fortius was Mr. Sowell) at my heels, and found myself in a long, low-stndded bar-room. There were two chains drawn Up before thp hearth, on which a huge hemlock back-log was still shoul dering, and on the unpainted deal counter com tiguouk stood two cloudy glasses, with bits of lemon-pool in the bottom, hinting at recent liba tions Against the discolored wall over the bar hung a yellowed handbill, in a waged frame, an nouncing that “ the Next Annual J}, H. Agricul tural Pam” would take place on the 10th of Sep tember, 1841. There was no otter fumture or decoration in this dismal apartment, except the cobwebs which festooned the ceiling, hanging down here and there like stalactites, • Mr Sowell sot the candlestick on the mantel shelf. and threw some pine-knots pn the hra; which immediately broke into a Wage, and ehowed him to bo a lank, narrow-chested m?n, past 60. with sparse, steel-gray hair, and small, deep-set eyes, perfectly round, hke a carps, and of no particular color. His chief personal characteristics seemed to be teo much feet and not enough teeth. His sharply put, but ratter simple face, ga he turned it towards mo, wore a look if interrogation. I replied to hie mqtn in quiry by taking Bout my pocketbook and banding him my” business card, which beheld up to the candle and perused with great deliberation. •‘i'on'ro a, .are yon? ho said, displaying his gnlns, which gave his countenance an expression of almost-infantile innocence. He made no further audible remark, but mumbled between bis thin lips something which an uuag, inatira pereon ’ inigW have construed mto, is yon’re a civil engineer, PH be blessed if X wouldn t like to seo an uncivil one! ” - A Mr. Sewell’s growl, however, was worse than his bito.—owing to his lack of teeth probably - for be very good-naturedly set himse f to work preparing supper for me. After a slice of cold ham, and aivann punch, to -which my chilled condition gave a grateful flavor, I wont to bed in-a'distant chamber, in a most - amiable ; mood, feeling satisfied that Jones 'was a donkey to bother himself about his identity.- - When r awoke the sun-was several hours high. My bed faced a window, and by raising myself on one elbow'l could look out oh what I expect ed to be the main street. To my astonishment, I beheld a lonely country - road winding up a sterile hill and disappearing over the ridge. Th a cornfield at - the right of the road was a small private graveyard enclosed by a crumbling stone-wall with a red gate. The only thing eng- ; gestivo of life was this little corner-lot occupied by death. I got out of -bed and went to the other window. There I had an . uninterrupted view of twelve miles ; of open -landscape, with Mount Agameuticus in the purple distance. : Not a house or a spiro in sight., “ Well," I ex claimed, “ Greonton doesn’t appear to be a very closely packed metropolis !” That rival hotel which I had threatened Mr;Sewell overnight wan not a deadly weapon, looking' at It by daylight. • “By Jove I" Iroflcctetl. “maybe Im m the wrong place,’’--But there, tacked against a panel of the bed-room door, was a faded time-table dated Greonton, Aug. 1, 1839. I smilod all the time I was dressing, and wont smiling down stairs, where I found Mr. Sewell,, assisted by one of the fair sex in the first bloom of her 80th rear, serving breakfast for mo on a small table—in the bar-room ! “ I overslept myself this morning, 1 ! I remarked' apologetically, “ and I see that I am putting you to some trouble. In future if you will have mo called, I will take’my meals at the usual table-, c Vhole." •• At the what ?” said Mr. Sewell. “ 1 mean with the other boarders.” Mr. Sewell paused ; in tho act of lifting a chop from tbo firo, and, resting tho point of his fork against the woodwork of the mantel-piece, grin ned from ear to oar. “Bless you! ■ there isn’t any other hoarders. There hasn’t teen anybody put up here eence— let me see—senco father-in-law died, end that was in the fall of ’4O. To bo sure; there's Silas; he’s a regular hoarder; but I don’t count him.” Mr. Sewell then explained how the tavern had lost its custom when the old stage lino was brok en up by the railroad. Tho introduction of steam was, in Mr. Sewell’s estimation, a fatal error. “ Jest kills local business. Carries it off I’m darned if I know where. The whole country has been sort o' retrograding ever eence steam was invented." “ Yon spoke of having one hoarder,”,! said. Silas? -Yes; ho came here the summer 'Tilda died,—she that was 'Tilda Bayley,—and he’s here yet,- going on thirteen year. He couldn't live any longer with tho old man. Be tween yon and I, old Clem Jaffrey, Silas’ father, was a hard nnt. ■ Yes,” said Mr. Sewell, crooking his elbow in inimitable pantomime, “ altogether too often. Found dead in the road hugging a three-gallon demijohn.- Habeas corpus in tho barn,” added Mr. SaWcll, intending, I presume, • to intimate that a post-mortem examination had been deemed necessary, ’ “ Silas,” he resumed, in that respectful tone which one should always adopt-when speaking of capital, “is a man of considerable property; lives on his interest, and keeps a boas and shay. He's a great scholar, too, Silas; takes all the pe-ri-odieala : and the Police Gazette regular.”: Mr. Sewell was taming over a third chop, when the door opened, and a efcautish, -middle aged little gentleman, clad in deep black, stepped into the room. ‘ “ Silas Jaffroy,” said Mr. Sewell, with a compre hensive sweep of bis arm, picking up me and thencw-comer on one fork, so. to speak; “be acquainted I" _ Mr. Jaffrey advanced briskly and gave mo his hand with unlooked-for cordiality. He was a dapper little man, with a head as round and nearly as bald as an orange, and not unlike an orange in complexion, either j he had twinkling gray eyes and a pronounced Boman nose, the numerous freckles upon which were deepen ed by his funereal dress-coat and trousers/ He reminded me of Alfred do Mussott’a blackbird, which, with its yellow beak and sombre plumage, looked like an undertaker eating an omelet. “ Silas will take car© of you,” said Mr. Sewell, taking down his hat from a peg behind the door, “ I’ve got the cattle to look after.. Tell him, if you want anything.” While I ate my breakfast, Mr. Jaffroy hopped up and down the narrow bar-room and chirped away as blithely as a bird on a cherry-bough, oc casionally ruffling with his fingers a slight fringe of auburn hair which stood up partly round Ins head and seemed to possess a luminous quality of its own. . “'Don’t X find it a little slow.up hero at the Corners ? Not at all, my dear sir. I am in the thick of life up here. So many interesting things going on all over the world, —inventions, discoveries, spirits, railroad' mys terious homicides. Poets, murderers, musicians, statesmen, distinguished travelers, prodigies of all * kinds, turning up everywhere. Very few events of poisons escape me. I take six daily city papers,.’thirteen weekly, journals, all the monthly magazines, and two quarterlies. I could mot get along with loss. I couldn’t if you asked me. I' never feel lonely. • How can I, being on intimate ‘ terms, as it wore, with thousands and thousands of people ? There’s that., young woman out West. What an entertaining creature s/ieis!—now in Missouri, how in Indiana, andnow in Minnesota, always on the go,- and all the time nee dles from various parts of her body as if she really enjoyed it! ‘ Then there’s that versatile patriarch who walks hundreds of miles and saws thousands of feet of wood, before breakfast, and •shows no signs of giving out. Then there’s that remarkable, on© may say that historical colored woman who ■ knew Benjamin Franklin, and fought at tho battle of Bunk—no, it is the old negro rnnn who fopght at Bunker Hill, a mere infant, of course, at that period. Bcally, now, it is quite curious to observe how that venerable female slave—formerly an African princess—is repeatedly dying in .her hundred and eleventh year, and coming to life again punctually every six month's in the small type paragraphs. Are you aware, sir, that within the last twelve years no fewer than ’287 of Gen. Washington’s col ored coachmen have died?” / For tho soul of inc I . couldn’t .tell whether this ?uainfc little gentleman was chaffing me or not. laid down my knife and fork," and stared at him. . . “Then there are tho mathematicians!” ho cried vivaciously, without wailing for a rcplv. “I take great interest, in, them. Hear this! and Mr, Jaffrey drew a newspaper from a pocket in the tail of his coat, and read as follows: 4 It has been estimated that if all the candles manu factured by this eminent firm (Siearine <6 CO.J trere placed end to end, they would reach 2 and % times around (he globe. . Of course,” contin ued Mr- Jaffroy, folding up the jonnial reflect ively, 44 abstruse calculations of this kind are hot, perhaps, of vital importance, but. they in dicate tho intellectual activity of the age. Seri ously, now,” he said, halting in front of the table, “what with books' and papers and drives about:, the: country, : I pod the- days too long, though- I seldom geo any one, except when I go over to K for my mail. Existence may be very foil to a who stands a little asidn-from the tu mult and watches it with philosophic eye. Po s ~ eibly ho may see more of the battle than those who are in tho inidst of the action.•• Oncol waa struggling with the crowd, •as eager and un

daunted as the boat; perhaps I ehouid haYe boon struggling still, Indeed,- -! khow my hfo.wouM have beou . very different now if I bad niamed Mehctabol,—if I had married Mebetobel. ■ His vivacity was gone, a sudden cloud pad come over his bright face, his figure sceinea to have collapsed, the light * seemed to have faded out of his hair. ‘With a shuffling step, the very antithesis of his brisk, elastic tread, he turned to the door and passed into the road. ' “■Well,” I said to myself, “If Greenton had forty thousand inhabitants, it eouldn t turn out a mure astonishing old party than that. THE CASE OF SILAS JAITEET., A man with a passion for hnc-a-ht ac is alw y» stumbling over antique bronzes, t saica, and daggsrsot time pf Benvenuto Cellini; the bibliophile finds creamy... _ folios and rare Ilduses and Elzevirs irfutag _ him as unsuspected hook-ataUa; th® u 11 ™!? tiat has but to stretch forth Ws priceless coins drop into it. My °™^ ea ( „Y,„ is odd people, and I am constantly “““taring them. It was plain I bad unearthed a connect very queer specimens at Bayley s Four an I saw that a fortnight afforded rue Vi 0 .*!,. sn( j opportunity to develop the I resolved to devote my spare Umo to Mr. Jaff rey alone, unfamiliar .species. My professional the vicinity of Gfegnton left in occasionally an afternoon jmoconpied. tervals I purposed to employ W classifymg my foUow-hoarder, It was sary, as a preliminary step, to. learn , j of Ins previous history, and to this dressedjnyself toMr. to i‘ Jdo hot want to seem inquisitive, i smo v the landlord, as he and fessrsff jsari'rg? -s --easily. " ' “ Well. I w'rh be wouldn't!” , “B9 was friendly cuougu in tho spurse V conversation to hint to mo that be had not mar •rieq the young woman,.and seemed to regret it.’’ “No, he didn’t many Mebetahel.” ' ' ' ‘i May I inquire tcit’j ho didn’t marry Meheta bel ?” . . , “ Never asked her. Might have married the girl forty times. Old Elkins’ daughter, over at -K- . ■ She’d have had him quick - enough. Seven-years off and on, he' kept company with Mebetahel, and then she died.” ! “ And he never asked her ?” " ‘‘ Ho shilly-shallied. _ .Perhaps he didn’t think of it. When she was dead and gone, then Silas was struck all of a heap,--and that’s all about it.” Obviously Mr. Sowell did riot intend to tell mo anything more, and obviously there was more to tell. The topic was plainly disagreeable to biih : for some reason or other, arid that unknown rea son, of course,,piqued my cariosity. As I bad boon absent from dinner and supper that day, I did not moot Mr. Jaffrey again until tho following morning at breakfast. He had re covered his bird-like manner, and was full of a mysterious .assassination that had. just taken place in New York, all tho thrilling details of which wero at his fingers’ ends. It was at onco ’ comical and sad to sco this harmless old gentle man, with his native, benevolent countenance, and his thin hair flaming -up in a semicircle like tho foot-lights at the theatre, reveling in the in tricacies of the unmentionable deed. “ You como up to mv room to-night,” he cried with'horrid glee, “ anil I’ll give you my theory of tho murder. I’ll make it as clear as day to you that it was tho detective himself who fired. tho throe pistol-shots.” It was not so much the desire to have this . point elucidated’as to make a closer study of Mr. Jeffrey that led mo to accept his invitation; Mr. Jaifroy’s bedroom was in on L of tho building, ■ and.was in no way noticeable except for tho nn- ■ merous - files of newspapers neatly arranged against the blank spaces of the walls, and a huge pile of old magazines which stood in one "corner, reaching nearly up to tho ceiling, and threatening each instant to topple over ii ke the - Loaning Tower at Pisa. There were green paper shades at the windows, some faded chintz val ances about tho bod, and two or three casy-chairs covered with chintz. On a black-walnut shelf between the windows lay a choice collection of meerschaum and briorwood pipes. Pilling one of the chocolate-colored bowls for me and another for himself, Mr. Jeffrey began prattling; but not about the murder, which ap peared to have flown out of his mind. In fact, 1 do not remember that the topic was even' touched upon, either then or afterwards. “ Cosy neat this.” said Mr. Jeffrey, glancing complacently over the apartment. “ What is more cheerful, now, in the”fall of tho year, than an open wood-fire ? Do you bear those little chirps and twitters coming out of that piece of apple-wood? Those are tho ghosts of the robins and bluebirds that sang upon tho bough, when it was in blossom last spring. In summer whole flocks of them come fluttering about tho fruit trees under the window; so I have singing-birds all the year round. X take it very easy bore I can teU you, summer and win ter. ’ Not much society. Tobias is not, per haps, what one would term a great intellectual force, but be moans well. He’s a realist—be lieves in coming down to what ho calls ! tho hard pan; ’hut his heart is in tho right place, and lie’s very kind to mo. Tho wisest thing I ever did in my life was to sell out my grain business over at K—— thirteen years ago, and settle down at the Comers. When a man has made a com petency, what does he want more ? Besides, at that time, an event occurred which destroyed any ambition I may have had. Mebetahel died.” “ The lady you wore engaged to ? ” “ N-o, not precisely engaged. I think it was quite understood between ns, though nothing had been said bn the subject. Typhoid,” added Mr. Jaffrey, in a low voice. • For several minutes ho smoked in silence, a vague, troubled look playing over his counten ance. Presently this passed away, and ho fixed his gray eyes speculatively upon my face. “if I had married Mehetabol,” said Mr. Jef frey, slowly, and then bo hesitated. I blew a ring of smoke into the air, and, resting my pipe on my knee, dropped into an attitndo of atten tion. “If I had married Mebetahel, you know,* wo should have had—ahem! —a family." “ Very likely,” I assented, vastly amused at this unexpected tnm. 41 A boy I ” Exclaimed Sir. Jaffroy, explosively. “ By all means, certainly, a son.” 44 Great trouble about naming the boy. Mohet abel’fl family want him named ElKauab Elkins, after her grandfather; I want him named An drew Jackson. Wo compromise by christening him ElkanaU Elkins Andrew Jackson Jaflrey. Bather a long name for such a short little fel low,” said Mr. Jaffrey, musingly. 41 Andy isn't a bad nickname,” I suggested. “Not at all. We call him Andy, in the family. 'Somewhat fractions at first,—colic and things. I suppose it is right, or it wouldn’t be so; but the usefulness of measles, mumps, croup, whooping-cough, scarlatina, and fits is not visi ble to the naked eye. 1 wish Andy would bo a model infant, and dodge the whole lot.” This supposititious child, born in .the last few minutes, was clearly assuming the proportions of reality to 3lr, Jaffrey. I began to feel a little uncomfortable. I am, as I have said, a civil en gineer, and it is not strictly in .my lino to assist at the birth of infants, imaginary.or otherwise. I pulled away vigorously at the pipe, and said nothing. 44 What large bine eyes ho . has,” resumed Mr, Jaffroy,after pause; “just liUo Hetty’s; and the fair hair, too, liko hers. How oddly certain distinctive features are handed down in fami lies! Sometimes a mouth, sometimes a turn of the eyebrow. Wicked little boySj over at K , havo now and then derisively advised me to fob low mvnoso. It would ho an interesting thing to do.* I should find my nose flying about the world, turning up unexpectedly hero and there, dodging this branch of the family and reappear ingm that, now jumping over one great-grand child to fasten itself upon another, and never losing its individnalifev. Look at Andy. There’s Elkanah Elkins’ chin to the life. Andy’s chin is probably older than the Pyramids. Poor little thing,” lie cried, with sudden, indescribable ten derness, “to lose his mother so early!” And Mr. Jaffrey’s head sunk upon his breast, and his shoulders slanted forward, as if he were actually bonding over the cradle of tho child. The whole gesture and attitude was so natural that it star tled me. Tbo pipe slipped from my .fingers and fell to the floor. ' 44 Hush!” whispered Mr. Jaffroy, with a depre cating motion of bis hand. 44 Andy’s asleep I" He rose softly from the chair, and, walking across the room on tiptoe, drew down tho shade at the window through which tho moonlight was streaming, -Then he returned to his scat, and remained gazing with half-closed eyes into the dropping embers. ' , . I refilled iny pipe and smoked m profound silence, wondering what would como next. Bat nothing camp next. Mr.. Jaffrey had fallen into so brown a study that, a quarter of an hour after wards, when I wished him good-nigbt and with-; drew, I do not think ho noticed my departure. I am not what is called a man of imagination; it is my habit to exclude most things not capable of mathematical demonstration ; but I am not without a certain psychological insight, and I think I understood Mr. case. I could easily understand how a man with an unhealthy, sensitive nature, overwhelmed by sudden calam ity, might take refuge In some forlorn place like this old tavern, and dream his- life away. To such a man—brooding forever on what might have been, and dwelling wholly in tho realm of his fancies—the actual world might indeed be come as a dream, and nothing seem real but his illusions, I dare say that thirteen years of Bay ley’s Pour Corners would havo its effect upon mo * though- instead of conjuring up golden haired children of the Madonna, I should proba bly see gnomes and kobolds and goblins engaged in hoisting falso signals and misplacing switches for midnight express-trains. . J*No doubt,” X said to myself that night, os I lay In bed, thinking over tho matter, “ this once possible but nowimpossiblo child is a great com fort to tbo old gentleman,—a greater comfort, perhaps, than a real eon would be. May be Andy will vanish with the shades and mists of nicht he’s such an unsubstantial infant; but if he doesn’t, and Mr. Jaffrey finds pleasure in talking to mo about his eon, I shall humor tho old fellow. It wouldn’t be a Christian act to knock oyor his harmless fancy/’ . _ I was yery impatient to see if Mr. Jaffrey s il lusion would stand the test'of' daylight. It did. Elkanah Elkins Andrew Jackson Jaffrey was, so to' speak, alive and kicking the next morning, On taking his seat at the breakfast-table, Mr. Jaffrey whispered to mo that Andy had had a comfortable night, “Silasl” said Mr. Sowell sharply, “ what are you whispering about ?” - , . ' • Mr. Sewell was in sniD-hymor; perhaps bo was jealous because I bad passed the evening in Mr. Jeffrey’s room; hut surely Mr. Sewell could not expect his boaraers to go to bed at 8 o’clock everv night, as he did. From time to time dqring the mem Mr. Sewell regardedme unkindly out of the corner of his eye, and in helping me to the, parsnips he poniarded them with quite a sug gestive air. All this, however, did not prevent me from repairing to the door of Mr. Jaffrey*s snuggery when night came. ' - : 44 Well, Mr. Jaflrey, how’s Andy this even ing ?* ? "' . . “ Got a tooth!” cried Mr. Jeffrey, vivaciously. “No!” - u Yes he has! Just through. Gave the nurse a silver’dollar. Standing reward for first tooth.” It was on the tip of my tongno to express sur prise that an infant a day old should cut a tooth, whon I • suddenly recollected that Bichard HI. was bom with teeth. Feeling myself to be on* unfamiliar ground, ! suppressed my criticism.- It was well 1 did so, for in the next breath X wag advised that half a year had elapsed since the previous evening. . , . • : • . - Andy’s had a hard six months of : it,**- said Mr. Jaffroy, with the well-known narrative air of fabhors. -*f Wo’vo brought him up by hand. - His grandfather, by the way, was brought up by the. bottlo 1 ana brought downby it, too, l added, mentally, recalling Mr. Sewell's account of the •old gentleman's tragic end. . ‘ . Mr. Jaffroy then wont on to give me a history of, Andy’s first six months, omitting no detail however insignificant or irrelevant. This his tory I would, in turn, inflict upon the reader, if I were only certain that he is one of those dread-, ful parents who, under the rogia of friendship, bore yon at a street-corner with that remarka ble thing which Freddy said the other day, and insist on singing to you, at an evening party, the Iliad of Tommy’s woes. - ; ' Bat toinfiict this enfantillage upon-the un married reader would bo an act of wanton cru elty. So I pass over that part of Andy’s bio graphy, and, for the same reason, make no record of the next four or five interviews I bad with Mr. Jeffrey, It will bo sufficient to state that Andy glided from extreme infancy to early youth with astonishing celerity,—at the rate of. one vear per night, if X remember correctly; and—must I confess it?—before thoweek catno to an end, this invisible hobgoblin of a- bojrwas only little loss of a reality to mo. than to Mr. Jaffroy. *- • . . - At first I had lent myself to the old dreamer’s _ whim with a keen perception of the hnmor. of the thing; but by and by I found I was talking and thinking of Miss Helietabd’s son as though he were a veritable personage. _Mr. Jaffroy spoke of the child with such an air Of conviq tion!—as if Andy were playing among his toys in the next room, or making mud-pies’ down in. the yard/ In these conversations, it must bo ob served, the child was never supposed to be pres- j ent, except on - that single occasion when Mr. Jafffoy leaned over the cradle. After one of our seances I would Ho awake until tho small hours, thinking of the boy, and then fall asleep only to havo indigestible dreams about' him; ’ Through tho day, and sometimes in the midst of compli cated calculations, I would catch myself wonder ing what' Andy was up to now! There was no shaking him off;-he became an inseparable nightmare to mo; and I felt that if I remained much longor at Bayloy’a Four-Corners I should turn into just such another bald-headed, mild eyed visionary as Silas Jaffroy. -p ; Then the tavern was a grewsomo old shell any wav, full of unaccountable noises after dark, — rustlings of garments along unfrequented pas sages, and stealthy footfalls in unoccupied chambers overhead. • I never knew of an bid houso without these mysterious noises. . Next to my bedroom was a musty, dismantled apart-, meut, in one corner of which, leaning.against tho wainscot, was a crippled mangle, with its iron crank tilted in tho air like the elbow of tho late Mr. Clem Jaffrey. Sometimes, : M in the dead vast and middle of the night,? I used to hear sounds as if some one were turn ing that rusty ersnk on tho sly. This occurred only on particularly cold nights, and I conceived the uncomfortable idea that it was tho thin fam ily ghosts, from the neglected graveyard in the cornfield,'* keeping themselves warm by running each other through the mangle. There was a haunted air about the whole place that made it easy for me to believe in the existence of a phan tasm like Miss Mehetabel’a son, who, after all, was less unearthly than Mr. Jaffrey himself, and seemed more properly an inhabitant of. .this globe than the toothless ogre that kept the inn, not to mention tho silent Witch of Endor that cooked our meals for us over the bar-room fire. In spite of tho scowls and wiuks bestowed upon me by. Mr. Sewell, who lot slip no opportunity to testify his disapprobation of the intimacy, Mr. Jaffrey and I spent all our evenings together,— those long autumnal evenings, through tho length of which ho talked about the boy, laying out his path in life, and hedging tho path with roses. Ho should bo sent to tho High School at Portsmouth, and then to college ; he should bo educated like a gentleman, Andy. “Whenthe old man dies,” said Mr. Jaffrey, rubbing hie bands gleefully, as if it were a great joke, “ Andy will find that the old man has left him a pretty plum.” “ What do you think of having Andy enter West Point, when he’s old enough ?” said Mr, Jaflrey on anothe - occasion. “Ho needn’t nec essarily go into the army when he graduates; he can become a civil engineer.” This was a stroke of flattery so delicate and indirect that I could accept it without immod esty. There had lately sprung up on the corner of Mr. Jeffrey’s bureau a small tin house, Gothic in architecture, and pink in color, with a slit in the roof, "and the word Bank painted on one facade. Several times m the course of an evening. Mr. Jaffrey would rise from his chair, without interrupting tho conversation, and gravely drop a nickel through tho scuttle of the bank. It was pleasant to observe the so lemnity of his countenance as he approached the edifice, and tho air of triumph with which he resinned his seat by the fire-place. One sight I missed the tin bank. It had disappeared, deposits and all. Evidently tbero had been a defalcation on rather a large scale. -1 strongly suspected that Mr. Sewell was at the bottom of it; but my suspicion was not shared by Mr. Jef frey, who, remarking my glance at the bureau,. became suddenly depressed, “Pm afraid,” he said, “ that I have failed to instil into Andrew those principles of integrity which—which— ” And the old gentleman quite broke down, Andy was now 8 or 9 years old. and for some time past, if the truth must be told, bad given Mr. Jaffrey no inconsiderable trouble ; what with his impishness and his illnesses, the boy led the pair of na a lively dance. I shall not soon forget the anxiety of Mr. Jaffrey the night Andy had tho scarlet-fever,—an anxiety winch so infected me that I actually returned to the tavern the following afternoon earlier than usual, dreading to hoar the little spectre was dead, and greatly relieved on meeting Mr. Jef frey at the door-step with his face wreathed in smiles. When I spoke to him of Andy, I was made aware that I was inquiring into a case of ecarlet-fever that had occurred the year before ! It was at this time, towards tho end of my sec ond week at Greenton, that I noticed what was probably not a new trail,—Mr. Jeffrey’s curious sensitiveness to atmospherical changes. He was as sensitive as a barometer. The approach of a storm sent bis morenry down instantly. When the weather was fair, he was hopeful and sunny, and Andy’s prospects were brilliant. When the weather was overcast and threatening, be grew restless and despondent, and was afraid the boy wasn’t going to turn out well. On Saturday previous to' my departure, which had been fixed for Monday, it had rained heavily all tho afternoon, and that night Mr. Jaffrey was in an unusually excitable and unhappy framQ mind. His mefeury was vejy low indeed. ■ ‘ That boy is going to tho dogs just as fast as he can go,” said Mr. Jaffrey, with & wof*l face. “ Icau’t do anything with him.” ~ “ He'll come out all right, Mr.* Jaffrey* * Boya will bo boys. I wouldn’t give » fcaap a without animal spirits.” . r _ , “But animal spirits,” said Mr. Jaffrey, senten tiously, “ shouldn’t saw off the leg of tfie piano, in Tobias* beat parlor. I don’t know what To bias will say when he finds it out.” “ What, has Andy sawed off tho legs of the old spinet?” I retumecl. laughing. * “ Worse than that.” “ Played upon it, then!” . “ No,-sir. Ho has lied to me I” “I can’t believe that of Andy.” ' . “Liedto me, sir,”repeated Mr. Jaffray, se-. verely. “Ho pledged me hla word of honor that he would give over his climbing. The way that boy climbs sends a chill down my spine. This morning, notwithstanding his solemn promise, he shinned up the lightning-rod attached to tho extension, and sat astride tho ridge-pole. 1 saw him, and he denied is! When a . boy you have caressed, and indulged, and lavished pocket money ; on, lies to you, ond trill climb, then there’s nothing more to be said. He’s a lost child.” “Yon .take too dark a view of it, Mr. Jeffrey. Training and education are bound to tell in the end, and be baa been well brought up.” “ But I didn’t bring him up on ■ a lightning rod, did 1 1 If he ia ever going to know how to behave, he ought to know now. To-morrow ho will he ll years old.” , ■ The reflection came to me that if Andy had not been brought up by the rod he had certainly been brought up by the lightning. .Ho was 11 years old in two weeks 1 I essayed to tranqnilize Mr. Jeffrey's mind, and to givo him some practical hints pn the man agement of youth, with that perspicacious wisdom which seems to be the peculiar property of bach- ■ Blots and elderly maiden ladies. “ Spank him, I suggested, at length. “I will!" said the did gentleman. !i And you'd hotter do it at once, 1 added, as it flashed upon mo that in six months Andy would be 143 years old!—an ago at which paren tal discipline "would haTO to be relaxed, _ The next morning, Sunday, the ram came ' down as if determined to dnvo tho quicksilver ‘entirely out of my poor friend. Mr. J iffrey sat boltuprignt at the*breakfast table, looking as: woe—begone sa a bust of 13antc, and retired to .■ his chamber the moment the meal was finished. As the day advanced, the wind veered round to the northeast, and settled itself down to work. ■ It was not pleasant to think, and I tried not to think, what Mr. Jaffrey’a condition would be if tho weather did not mend its manners by noon; but so far from clearing off at noon,,,tho storm increased in* violence, and M iiight set-in. the wind whistled in a spiteful falsetto Key, and tho rain‘“■lashed tho. old tavern, .aa.if: it were a balky horse' that refused to- move on- The win dows rattled in ,tho worm-eaten frames, and tho doors of remote rooms, whore nobody ever went, slammed to in the maddest way. Now and then thO'tornadp, sweeping down the aide of _ Mount bowled. across' the open" country and struck the ancient hostelry point-blank. Mr-Jaffrey did not appear at supper. I know he was expecting mo to.come to his room as usual, and l turned ovcr ; -In my mind a dozen plans to evade seeing him that night. The land lord sat at the opposite side-of the chimnoy plnco, with his eyo upon me. I fancy he was aware’of.the effect of .this -storm ori.niaotbor boarder; for at intervals, us tho wiud hurled itseM against the exposed gable, threatening to haul in tho windows, Mr. tipped mo an atro cious wink, mid displayed his gums in a way he had not done since the,morning after my arrival at Greenton, I wondered if bo suspected any thing about Andy. There had boon odd time-s during, the past week when X felt convinced that the existence of Miss Mchetabcd’a son was no secret to Mr. SewolL _ -- In deference to the gale, the landlord sat" up half an hour later than was his custom.'--At half-post Bho went to. bed, remarking that ho thought tho old pile would stand till morn- So had been absent only a few minutes whec I heard a rustling at the door. ■ I looked up and beheld Mr. Jaffrey standing on the threshold, with his dress in disorder, his acaut hair flylijg, and the wildest expression on bis face. 11 He’s gone I” cried Mr. Jaffroy. “Who? Sewell?- Yes, ho lust went to bed." “ No, not Tobias,—the boy I” : “What, runaway?’’ “No, —ho is*dead! He.has fallen off of a step-ladder in the red chamber and broken his neck!”. ’‘. ’ ;. ' . ’ . - Mr. Jaffroy threw up his hands with a gesture of despur, and disappeared. I followed him through tho hall, saw turn go into his own apart ment, and heard tho bolt of the door drawn to. Then I returned to the bar-rooin, and sat for an hour or two In tho ruddy glow of tho fire, brood ing over the strange experience of tho last fort night. ... • ‘ On my way to bed I paused at Mr. Jaffroy’a door 7 and, in.alullof the storm, tho measured reapiratioa within told me that the old gentle man was sleeping peacefully. - . Slumber was coy with xno'that night. X lay listening to the southing of the wind, and think ing of Mr. Jeffrey’s illusion. Tt bad amused mo at first with its grotesqueness; but now the poor little phantom was dead, I . was conscious that there had been something patheticin it all along. Shortly after midnight the wind 'sunk down, coming and going fainter and fainter, fioatiuo around the oaves of the. tavern with a geutte* murmurous sound, as if it were turning itself into soft wings to bear away the spirit of a liUh child. :: - -Perhaps nothing that happened daring my stay at BayleY’s Pour-Corners Look mo bo com pletely by surprise as Mr. Jaffrey’a radiant coun tenance the next morning. The morning itself was not fresher or sunnier. Hia round face lit erally shone with geniality and happiness. His eyes twinkled like diamonds, and the magnetic light of his hair was turned on fall.’ He camo into my room while 1 was packing my Talise. He chirped, and prattled, and carolled, and was sorry I was going away,—but never a'word about Andy. However, the boy had probably been dead several years then ! The open wagon that was to carry me to the station stood at the door; Mr. Sewell was plac ing my case of instruments under tho seat, and Mr. Jaffrey had gone np to hfs room to get mo a certain newspaper containing on account of a re markable shipwreck on the Auckland Islands. I took tho opportunity to thank Mr. Sewell for bin courtesies to me, and to express my regret at leaving him and Mr, Jaflrey. “X have become very much attached to Mr. Jaffrey,” I said; “ho ie a moat interesting person; but that hypothetical boy of his, that sou of Miss Mehetahal’s— ’’ “ Yes, I know!” interrupted Mr. Sowell tes tily. 1 * Fell off a stop-ladder and broke his drat ted neck; Eleven years old, wasn’t he ? Al ways does, jest at that point. Next week Silas will begin the whole thing over again, if he cos get anybody tp listen to him.” “I ace. Odramiable friend is a llttlo queei bn that subject.” Mr. Sewell glanced cautiously over his shoulder, and. tapping himself significantly on the fore head. said in a low voice, . “ Boom To Let—’Unfurnished I” —T. B. Aldrich in (he Atlantic for June , A CHINESE LOVE SONG* O lovely daughter of tho Sun - Whose oyes like radiant diamonds glow, Say. do you love your Fa-fo-fum 7 Tell me. my dearest Ho-ang-ho. O can you; will you now be mine 7 My fate I wish and long to know; You arc, angel, all divine. .Light of my soul, my Ho-aug-ho, The birds of Paradise I*re seen, • And lovely swans as white as snow * And sweetest flowers, some bright, some green ; ■ Bat none so bright as Ho-ang-ho. The silver moon looks down on earth. And lights all nature in a glow, ' But all are dark, of little worth Compared with yon, my Ho-ang-ho. . - Some time I’ve sought yon, dearest one. My love for you you do not know; Will you be mine, my light, my son. My only choice, my Ho-ang-ho 7 If you reject my proffered love. My eyes will like the rivers flow, While I In gloomy spheres-do move. Without my lovely Ho-ang-ho. O tell me now. If you do love. One now so bumble and bo low, O will you now a helper prove To your dear friend, say Ho-ang-ho T If you will be my lovely wife. We ahall be happy, this I know; And live together without strife, Yea, Fa-fe-fuzn'and Ho-ang-ho. Short Speeches* An inquisitive French Bishop once c*<*gbt a Tartar in the Bute de Roquolaire. jae latter, passing in haste through Lyons, waf hailed by the Bishop with, “ Hi! hi!” • The stopped. ’‘Where have you come from?” inquired the prelate. ' •*Pans:” said the “What is there fresh in-Paris?” “(veen peas.” •* But what were the people “Vespers.” “ Goodne-*, °nm, broke out the angry - questioner, “‘who are you? What a*e you called ?” "Tgnorant people call me Hi! hi! QcjWJemen- term mo the Bute de Drive, on* postillion 1° One morning* woman was shown into' Dr. Aber nothy* room J before ho could speak she her arm, saying, “ Bum.”. “ A poul doe.” said the doctor.- Next'day she called again, 1 showed her arm, and said. “ Better.” “Continue the poultice.” Some days elapsed before Abemethy saw her again ; then she said, “ Well• your fee ?” “ Nothing,” quoth the great medico; “you arejtho most sensible woman I ever saw.” Lord Aberdeen, tho Premier of the Coalition ; Ministry, was' remarkable for the little use he made of his tongue. When, by way of reconciling hhn to accompany her oh a sea-trip, tho Queen smilingly observed: “ I be* lieve, my lord, you are- not often sea-sick ?’* “ Always, Madam,” was the brief hut significant, reply. “But,” said Her, Majesty, “not very sea-sick?” “Very, Madam,” said the uncom promising Minister. Wellington, we need hard ly say, was not given to use too . many words. On© example of his economy this .war will suf fice. The Duke wrote to Dr, Hutton for informa tion as to the scientific acquirements of a young officer who had been under hia instruction. The Doctor thought he could not do less than answer the question verbally, and made an ap pointment accordingly. Directly Wellington saw him he said: “i am obliged to you. Doc tor, for the trouble you have taken. Is -—■ fit for tho post ? ” Clearing his throat. Dr. Hutton began: “No man. more so, my lorf*/. can —— “ That’s quiet sufficient,” said “I knowhow valuable your time is;‘mine, just now, is equally so. I will not detain yon any long©?* Good morning!'—CAamut?ra* JbuiT-.nL Tlio Srihe of Cambridge. A strong desire is expressed in many quarters that tho Buko of Cambridge should resign the command-in-chief of the English army. The desire has often been expressed before, and its renewed expression now is due to tho virtual failure of tho Buko to put down tho recent rebel lion of youthful aristocrats at Sandhurst. Instead of putting down the rebels tbs Duke was, to al! intents and purposes, put ’ down by them, and tho consequence has been an ontcry in the lint regiments, which, in .London at all events, i< causing much ill-feeling. Some go to the lengtk of charging the Duka of Cambridge with having allowed his bias in favor of the Goordsmen ta warp his Judgment. Those who beat know the Buko don't believe that he .is. biased. Ha hat striven hard to make the best of Mr. Cardwell's new rules and regulations, and has put down several military swells with a vigor and prompt ness which surprised them; but he is undoubt edly of the old school. Ho finds it difficult to go in ” with the uaw'oonditibn of things ; and, in spite Of himself, his hands are tied, m many directions. - This last is the reason why a change 'at headquarters ia wished. The Buke'himself ii, understood not to bo very rnuen averse to the suggested change.' There are, however, family difficulties and certain small obstacles of prece dent in the way of bis retirement, and these not likely to he got easily over. 11

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