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that way; it 's wery bad of you, wery, have no interest in me; and, besides, and I 've a great mind to box your my name is hateful to me." ears !” and she put out her little hand “But I must call you somethin'!” to him in a sweetly menacing manner. “Well, then, inwent a name. My

John seized the hand and kissed it, maiden name reminds me of the royal and then, frightened at himself, ran to hours when my father's position gave the other end of the boat and looked me rank, and before the wicissitudes hard at the clouds.

of fortune brought me low; I cannot “O, come back! come back!” therefore consent to be called by that; screamed the widow; “the boat 'll and my married name is the name of upset, with me at one end and you at a wagabond, and I despise it. O sir, the other!

inwent a name, for mercy's sake!" “Sure enough !” says John, and he “I'll inwent it for love's sake," says went sheepishly back, and again seated John, slipping his arm round her waist, himself by her side.

and drawing her close to him ; "and She gave him a little tap on the ear, I'll call you my dove, coz you see and asked him if he would promise you've got all the timidity and gentlenever to run away and frighten her so ness o' that lovely bird, and your voice again.

is sweeter than the turtle's, I'm sure." John said he would promise her any “O Captain, my woice is n't a nice thing in the world that was in his pow. woice now-a-days, -- my woice went er to grant ; and he looked at her with with the rest of my attractions when such adoration that the woman over- I was dethroned. I had a nice woice came the coquette, or the coquette the once. If we could have met then!” woman, — which shall I say ? - and “My dove !” says John, “whatever she went as far from the “dangerous your woice hes ben, I would n't hev edge of things” as possible, and told it no sweeter than what it is now ; it him demurely that the only promise she kerries me back to the years that hed exacted was, that he should listen to hope in 'em, the years when I was a the long and techin' story of her life. boy, and in love." It all came back upon her, and she felt “Say no more,” says the widow; as if she must tell it to somebody. "my heart already tells me that you “May be, though, you don't want to love another," — and she began to pout hear it ?" says she.

“Lord bless us !” says John; “ our “May be I don't want to hear it! boat is aground. I was so took up How can you ?" says John, edging up with you, Rose, that I did n't see she And she began :

was driftin' down stream, and here “ I told you, Captain, that I had been we be, high and dry, and a storm dethroned, and I have, - wilely de- a-comin' on; but you can't blame me throned, and brought low, by my own so ha'shly, my dear Rose, as what I woluntary act.”

blame myself. Can you forgive me?" “ Dear heart !” says John, “so much “Forgive you ?” cries the widow, the worse, if it was woluntary, so few reproachfully. “ Can you forget that I pities you."

am an undertaker's daughter ? ” "Ah, that 's it," says the widow; This speech did not convey any very “nobody pities me, -- nobody in the clear meaning to the mind of John wide world has got a warm heart to Chidlaw; but he attributed that to his ward me.” She broke quite down, own dulness, and as this struck him and the tears came to her eyes.' as being very great, somehow or oth

“What may your name be?” says er, though he could not tell how, he John, seizing both her hands and gaz- bowed his head in shamefaced silence. ing tenderly in her face.

In spite of what he had said about “ Why do you ask? I'm but a tran- being in love in his youth, the widow sient wisitor to your boat; you can't took great courage. He had said “our boat" instead of my boat," and he had o' flints, and his'n was one on 'em, I called her Rose, - her real name, - guess." how should he know that? She could “Yes, as you say wisely, some is not tell, but somehow she augured fa- flint," says the widow; “but then vorably from it; besides, they were some is n’t!” And she dropped her aground, and must wait for the rising eyes, and gave his hand a confiding litof the tide, and in the intervening time tle squeeze. And then she says that, who knew what might be done ? She once married, diworce is n't got for would tell all her story; and its pathos, the asking, -"you are tied for good she fancied, must subjugate the most and all.” And then she says, that obdurate heart.

brings her to the p'int. “Yes," she renewed, “ I am, or rath- "To be dethroned was bad enough,” er was, an undertaker's daughter, with says she ; "and then to see my royal the most brilliant prospects before me dowery conwerted into whiskey, which that ever allured a wile wagabond of it was dewoured by him, the same bea fortune-hunter, for such he was who ing took continual; but what was most stole me from the satin pillers my young intolerable of all was that he walked head had played among, and give me into his sleep! I tried every way to a piller of husks, and cold wittles, and contrawene the wile habit that could wulgar lodgings."

be inwented. I coaxed and I scolded, “ The wretch !” cries John. “The and I got up late, and I give him hot wile wretch! if he yet lived, I would winegar with a little whiskey into it, wow myself to wengeance ! ” And, like he would swaller anything that had a Jacob of old, he lifted up his voice and drop of whiskey into it,--and I prewailed wept.

on him to sing psalms, and, that failing, "Don't take on so," says the widow. I prewailed onto him to inwest into a “I would not cause you a moment's sor- wiolin and play onto that till late into row for the world."

the midnight, thinking by that means “To think any man should have his witality would be exhausted, and abused the like o' you !” says John. he would lie into his bed like any other “ But surely he never laid wiolent man; but lo and behold! he inwested hands ont you? I think I shall lose into the wiolin a-Monday, and a-Monmy senses if you say that."

day night he played till along towards “ Then I won't say it,” says the ten o'clock, and I got clean wore out, widow, tenderly stroking his hand. and, says I, 'Do leave off playing onto

“ That touch is wivifying," says that wiolin,' says I, 'for my head aches John; “so, dear Rose, you may go on like all possess'; and with that he up and tell the wust on 't.”

and went to bed, and after a while I Then the widow came to the worst; hears something fingering the latch, for after all the trials she had with the and I riz onto my elbow, and says, in old wagabond, she said, she could have a whisper, Dan'l, there's a man put up with him but for one nasty hab- a-trying to break in, as sure as you 're it, — he walked into his sleep! “And alive!' He did n't answer, and thinks now a man that walks into his sleep,” says I, the wiolin has done it, and he is says she, “is a trial and a torment to a-sleeping with a wengeance, and then his wife which there is no tongue can I feels along, and says I, Dan'l, tell it."

Dan'l !' but still no answer ; then I "Ah, to be sure," says John, “ you felt for the piller, and there was no ought to hey been divorced, and to head onto it, and I scraped a match, have recovered big damages into the and it went out, and I scraped another, bargain. To think that the willain and it went out, and I scraped another, dared to walk into his sleep, and fright- and a leetle blue flame just started and en a poor timid dove like you! But the flickered, and before I could see what hearts o' some does seem manufactured it was a-fumbling at the door, it went out. Thinks says I, I'll make sure the piller! So I went feeling here work now; and I took two of the nasty and there, and every minute I come things into my hand and scraped so back to him, and every time I touched hard I crushed them all up together, him he wociferated at the top of his and they flashed out and seared my woice; and then I'd say, “Dan'l, it finger-ends and burnt a hole into my was n't woluntary !' and then I'd feel nightgownd-sleeve, and, seeing I was and feel by the chairs and the wall, like to burn up, I slapped my arm with and by one thing and another, as a all my might, and at last I slapped the body will when they can't see, and the flame down, and at last, by persewer- first thing I'd know I'd be right back ance, I. slapped it out; and yet I to him agin. My blistered arm, meanhad n't seen a thing, but I could feel time, was a-burning like fire, but, thinks the hole into my nightgownd-sleeve, and says I, it's no use, I can't find the my arm all burnt into a light blister. water-pitcher, I'm so turned round;

Dan'l!' says I again; but Dan'l did n't and I just sot down where I was, answer, and then I was full sure it was and there I sot till daylight, blowing him, and I scraped with a steadier all my breath away onto my arm, and hand, and the match — it was one the minute I could see I made for the of them nasty lucifers, may be you pitcher; but, happening to take it by know _"

the snout instead of the handle, away “Yes, I've heerd tell on 'em,” says it went, and spilt all the water, and John.

broke the pitcher past all mending, And the wretched woman went and a fine pitcher, too !- one that my on : " It was one of them nasty luci- own father give me in cholera times, fers, and it choked me so I could not when his business was at the best." find the candle ; and though I could "I declare," says John Chidlaw, just see a ghostly object at the door, “it's enough to make a body's blood I could not tell at all whether it was run cold !” And then he says he Dan'l or not, for he never looked like does n't wonder she's agin matrimony! himself when he walked into his Now the widow had said nothing sleep; and the match — they are noth- of the sort, and stoutly protested that ing but splinters, you know — was she had not, but that, on the conburning closer and closer to my fin- 'trary, she thought it an adwantage to gers, and I just dabs it wiolently into any woman to be married, prowided the washbowl, and puts it out. And she could find an indiwidual that had then says I, Dan'l ! Dan'l !' again; a warm heart toward her; to which and this time he answers, and says he, John replied that she had found such "You wixen,' says he, 'shut up your a one ; and she answered, “How you mouth!'

do go on!” and resumed her story. “There was no mistaking that, and “Well, a-Tuesday night he took to all in the dark I wentered after him, the wiolin again, and played and played and grabbed and ketched him by the and played and played all the old danend of his neck-tie, and hild with cing tunes in creation, and I sot by and all my might; and at that he began never said a word till 'leven o'clock to wociferate at the top of his woice, come, and then till twelve o'clock and, thinks says I, better than rouse come, and then till one o'clock come, all the neighbors and have them broke and then till two o'clock come, and at o their rest, I'll just let him go and last, thinks says I, my brain will go walk into his sleep till he's satisfied. wild, and says I, Dan'l, I ain't a bit I took the key out of the door, and sleepy, but I do feel some as if I could then I tried to find my way back, for, go to sleep if you'd just keep on thinks says I, I'll retire and take my a-playing ; I've got kind o' used to it, rest anyhow, and, if you believe it, I and I don't believe I can go to sleep was so turned round I could n't find without it.' With this he fung the wiolin into the cradle, — my father had “there's something a-coming that 'll presented me with a cradle that he had make you open your eyes. A-Saturmade out of some boards that had been day night says I, I feel like dancing,' used once and rejected on account of says I ; 'so, Dan'l, give us one of knots, but just as good, you know, your liveliest tunes!' and with that I and then he flounced into bed, and began to hop about like a lark. Of he never walked into his sleep that course he was took in, and the wionight!”

lin was n't touched; but O how he "You cunnin' little thing !” cries did walk into his sleep! Wisible to John, overcome with her smartness, everybody! In wain I argued that and hugging her close. “Who but walking into sleep was wulgar, in wain you would ever 'a' thought on't? Such I coaxed, and in wain I cried, - though a sleek deception !”

tears will sometimes prewail when “Well, a-Wednesday night he would nothing else will, that is, if they ain't n't touch his wiolin, and that night, too woluntary. Some women seems or rather along towards morning, he to shed 'em woluntary, and then they walked into his sleep, and a-Thursday are not so prewailing, which it was night he would n't play a stroke agin; never my case, Captain, never! I in wain I put the wiolin into his sight; cried for sheer spite and for nothing and that night he just dewoted himself else; it was always the way with me, to walking, - making himself wisible to especially after I was dethroned ; and the neighbors, even. So thinks says I, when tears did n't prewail, thinks 'says this won't do ; and a-Friday night, says I, I must take adwice, which I took I, I says to him, says I, "I hate the it, - adwice here and adwice there, old wiolin,' says I ; and I've a good and one adwised one thing and one notion to burn it up!'

another; but the adwice I took was 6. You just wenter!' says he, and adwice that it liked to have landed he takes it up and slants it' agin his me where I never should have seen shoulder, and turns his head kind a the light of this blessed day, nor seen, sideways, all the time a-keeping his nor seen, nor seen — you !” eye onto me, and he seesaws and see. John put both arms round her insaws till I falls asleep into my chair, stead of one, and held her fast, lest and then he seesaws and seesaws till she might vanish like a phantom. I wakes and rubs my eyes, and still “ You seem so like a sweet wision his head is kind a sideways, and his of the night!” he said. And then he wiolin agin his shoulder, aslant like, asked her what was the wicious adwice. just as if he had n't moved ; and then “I do feel as if I'd wanish, sure I pertends to sleep, and I pertends enough,” says the widow, “if it was n't and pertends and pertends, and at for your wine-like arms a-holding me last pertence is clear wore out, and up so nice, for I never can repeat this I wakes up like, and I says, says I, part of my sufferings without being • Dan'l, it must be a'most ten o'clock, quite wanquished, — just a leetle closer, ain't it?'-knew it was daylight. if you please ; now your shoulder, so And all at once his wisage changed, that it will catch my head if it should and the wiolin fairly dropt from his happen to fall. You have wisely called shoulder, and he hild up his head the adwice which I was adwised to that had been kind a sideways all that wicious,” says she ; "but what will while, and went to bed peaceable as you say when you hear the adwice a lamb, he did, and for the rest of which I was adwised ? Nerve yourthe night he did n't walk into his self up, Captain, but don't let go of sleep at all!”

me, not the least bit, I am so liable “ You angel !" says John, -"to get to be wanquished by my feelings. round him so."

There, that 'll do, – the dear knows “ Just wait,” says the widow; it's all because of my fear. Well, the adwice I was adwised was, as you sot out, for I never expected to reveal wisely said, wicious, - indeed it was it to anybody, unless it was to -- well, wery wicious, and yet the woman to some one that either was, or was that she advised the adwice was a like to be, my husband. Dear me, woman of wast experience, — the wife I've undertook too much !” of a wiolent drinker, and the mother. “There," says the enraptured lover; of fourteen children. More than this, “now can't you go on?” her father had been constable once, “I don't know," says the widow, and she wore French thread-lace al- blushing, but not withdrawing her together! Would you suppose, Cap- cheek. tain, considering her adwantages, es- “Try, for my sake!” says the Cappecially as regards her father and her tain, “it's so interestin'. You ’ve unlaces, that she could have adwised me dertook a good deal, but whatever conwith adwice that it was unadwisable ?”, sarns you consarns me.”

“No, I should n't a-dreampt on 't," "Well, I won't wacillate no more, says the Captain ; “but what was the not if it plagues you!” And the adwice that she adwised you that widow looked fondly in his face, and warn't adwisable ?"

then, quite supporting herself upon “I really can't get my consent to his arm, she drooped her eyelids modtell,” says the widow, "now that I've estly and resumed.

INTERNATIONAL COPYRIGHT.

THERE is an American lady living rable talents with which she is enT at Hartford, in Connecticut, whom dowed, she had chanced to possess the United States has permitted to be one more, namely, the excellent gift robbed by foreigners of $200,000. Her of plodding, she had been a consumname is Harriet Beecher Stowe. By mate artist, and had produced immorno disloyal act has she or her family tal works. All else she has, - the forfeited their right to the protection of seeing eye, the discriminating intelthe government of the United States. ligence, the sympathetic mind, the fluShe pays her taxes, keeps the peace, ent word, the sure and happy touch; and earns her livelihood by honest in- and these gifts enabled her to render dustry; she has reared children for her country the precise service which the service of the Commonwealth ; she it needed most. Others talked about was warm and active for her country slavery: she made us see it. She when many around her were cold or showed it to us in its fairest and in hostile ;- in a word, she is a good cit- its foulest aspect; she revealed its izen.

average and ordinary working. There More than that : she is an illustrious never was a fairer nor a kinder book citizen. The United States stands high- than “Uncle Tom's Cabin"; for the er to-day in the regard of every civil- entire odium of the revelation fell upon ized being in Christendom because the Thing, not upon the unhappy morshe lives in the United States. She tals who were born and reared under is the only woman yet produced on its shadow. The reader felt that Lethe continent of America to whom gree was not less, but far more, the the world assign's equal rank in liter- victim of slavery than Uncle Tom, ature with the great authoresses of and the effect of the book was to conEurope. If, in addition to the admi- centrate wrath upon the system which

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