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Office at \VILLOWDALE, Yonge Street, the Township of York. Jan’y g ‘1873.‘ A159, -Corned- and Spiced Beef, Smoked and Dried Hams. " ., FARMERS’ BOOT AND SHOE STORE Bootgnafid shbes made to measure, of the best material and workmanshipfiat the low- ast§remuper§ting_prjqqs. RQYIN-CIAL “LAN D SURVEYOR, Givilâ€"Engihecr and Draughtsman. Orders by letter should’st‘ate the Concession, Lot and character of Survey, the subscriber hlving the old Field Notes of the ‘late D. GIBSON and other surveyors, which should be consulted, in many, cases unto original monmimttp, -&‘c‘., previous to commencing workp.‘ H _ '_ , 1E (SbCCEssoas T0 W. W. cox,) . UTCHERS,'RICHMOND HILL, HAVE always on hand the best of Beef, Mutton, mb, Veal, Pork, Sausages, &c., and sell at the lowest prices for Cash. OHN BARRON, manufacturer and dealer in all kinds‘of‘boo'ts and shoes, 38 \Vest Market Sqqaxie, Toronto. New method of extracting teeth without pain, by the use of Ether Spray,which afi'ects the teeth only. The tooth and gum surrounding becomes .insonsible with the external agency, when the tooth can be ex- tracted with no pain and without endanger- ing the life, as in the use of Chloroform. Dr. Robinson will be at the , following places prepared to extract teeth with his new ap- paratus. All office operations in Dentistry performed in a. workmanlike manner 2 Aurora, 131:,» 3rd, 16th and 22d of each month Newmarket..... .. 2d “ “ Richmond Hill, 9th and 24th " “ Mt. Albert ..................... 15th Thornhill ..... . ‘ . .23rd ....26th Burwick..... ....28th Kleinburg...... ...4..,..29th Nobleton.........‘. .30th Nitrous Oxide Gas always Aurora. Aurora, April 28, 1870 The highest market price given for Cathiel §heep, Lambs, 6m. EALER IN FINE GOLD «Am 311;: verfl’Vatches, Jewelry, #0., 113 Yongo Street, Toronto. « Corner of Young and Centre streets East, have constantly on hand a good assortment of Drugs, Paints, Perfumery, Chemicals, Oils, Toilet; Soaps, Medicines, Varnishes, FancyArficles, Dye Stuffs, Patent Medicines md all other articles kept by druggists generally. Our stock of medicines warrant- ed genuine, and of the best qualities. Richmond Hill, Jan 25, ’72 > 705 York, Peel and Ontario. Residepceâ€" t 7, 6th Com, Markhamr» ~P. Oraddreaa, Unionville. Sales attended to on the short- Ihortest notice and on reasonable terms”. Orders left at the Herald office for Mr. Car- ter's service will be promptly attended to. June 27, 1867 kicansed Auctioneer for the 'Counties of Dealer in Drugs, Medicines, Groceries, Wines, and Liquors, Thornhill. By Royal Letters Patent has been appointed Is- suer of Marriage Licenses. than one year, insertion.. . Each subsequent insertion... . '22 inches to be considered one column Advertisements without Written direction inserted till forbid, and charged accordingly. All tr itory. advertisements from regu- lar or irfihr cystomérs, must be paidvfor when in for insértion. ' All letters addressed tIS'Un/‘c editlprs must be post-paid. One inch, (3116 year...‘. Two inches, one year.. Three inches, one year.; Advertisements for a shorter ’perip ~9..F:mcy Bills, Business Cards, Circulars,Law Forms, Bill Heads, Blank Checks, Drafts, Blank Orders, Receipts, Letter Heads,Fancy Cards, Pamphlets, Large and Small Posters, and every other kind of Letter-Pressi’rint- Having made large additions to the. print- ing material, we are better prepared than over to do the neatest and most beautiful printing of every descrifition. BOOK & JOB PRINTING Orders for of the ulideimentioned des- :2‘ cription 0i ’ icensed Auctioneer fox-‘the Count of York. , Sales attended to '9n the aiort- est notice and at reasonable rates. P. O. adglgess, Buttonville. RICHMOND HILL DRUG STORE, No paper diséontiuued unfil all aFrcarages are paid ; and parties refusing papers with- out paying up will he held; Mgcgoyutuble for the_ §_u_bsrqript101_1.» TH :1: Y0}: ‘ H E {A L L) Every Friday Morning, And dispatched to subscribefa by the earliest 1113113 or other conveyances, when so desired. THE YORK HERALD will always be found to contain the latest and most important Foreign and Local News and Markets, 3.1141 the greatest care will be taken,“ render it accepéable to the man of business, and a v aluable Family Newspaper. TERMS: On}: Dollér Lper annum in ad- vance, if not paid within two months, One Dent and Fifty ()epts will 13.? charged. Hail} ,~& Colored Job Werk _ agiin be promptly ‘ayteng‘ed to : Cheap Book and Job PrintingEstablt‘ahmem‘ O FFICEâ€"YONGE Sun, RICHMOND HILL Richmond Hill, Oct. 24, ’72 September 1, 1871.- Mark'hgm, July 24, 1868 \UBLISHER AND PROPEIETOR OF ‘oronbo, Dec .“3‘, 1867 TERMS: $1 PER ANNUM IN ADVANCE. zW. H. a; R. PUGSLEYI VOL. XV. NO 40‘ A. ROBIESON’S, L. D. S. FRANCIS BUTTON, 31L, H. SANDERSON & SON, PETER S. GIBSON ADVERTISING RA'J‘ms AUCTIEBNEERS. 1‘11 11) 1113 [{A L “ THE YORK HERALD.” .T. ’SEGSWORTH, THO MAS CARR, ESTABLISHMENT. ’TDBUGGISTS. PBOPRIRTORS OF THE DENTISTllY. JOHN CARTER, [S PUBLISHED 24th 15th 23rd 26th 28th 29th 30th ‘1) on hand at PER INCH 615-tf 745-1y 497 $4 00 755 A child Wishes to know why the dolls are all girls. “ May heaven cherish and keep you from yours truly, &0.,” was the some- what ambiguous closing of a love letâ€" ter recently received by a certain young lady not a thousand miles away from Syracuse. ()n the occasion of the reception of the Duke and Duchess of Edinbor- ough at Windsor Castle the poet lauâ€" reaufe, Tennyson, published a bridal hymn. Of'course it must have con- tanined a nice bit‘of sentiment. Some young men in Green Baypre- sented a preacher with a. horse and received his heartfelt thanks. Two days after the presentation the horse was taken away by the farmer from whom it; had been stolen. _ A gentleman going up Sixth avenue N éw YOrlg met a labbrer. to whom he said : “Will you tell me ifl am half way to Central Park?” “Faith, an’ I will,” was the reply,“ if you tell me whom you started ftom.” We like the style of the maiden re- ferred to in the following clipping: I clasped her tiny hand in mine; I vow- ed to shield her from the world’s cold storm. She set her beauteOue eyes upon me, and With her little lips she said, “ An umbrella will do as well." Dr. Douglass, who assaulted at little girl at Troy, Ala, was taken from jail in that place on Tuesday night- by a party of men, carried to the woods, severely whipped, and his body mutila- ted. He was then turned loose. He is an Englishman by birth, a. doctor; and also a singing school-teacher. He is forty-five yea-rs of age. A Chicago clergyman preached a sermon in a billiard saloon last Sun- day. He made nineteen points. The majority of the hands on Texas ranches are Mexicans, who are good and steady workers. A Mexican will not allowhis Wife or daughter to work. . APortland editor speaks of an alder- man of that city as“ the wooden- headed fool from the Fourth Ward.” The Liverpool (England) Daily Post has nowaspecial Wire for the exclusive transmission of its news from London, the centre of intel- ligence. . Eli Love, of Wayne County, Ohio, climbed a tree to shake out a coon. The hogs heard something drop and went. for it, but it was not the coon. It was Eli. U old iron, rags, &c.,'&c., Richmond Hill All orders promptly attended to. Who will get in his crops if he leaves his farm to head the Grangers. CCOUNTANT, Book-Kale er,_ Convey- ancer, and Commission ' gent for the sale or purchase of lands, farm stock, &c., also for the collection of rents, notes and ac- counts. Charges Moderate. , OFFICEâ€"~Richmond srreet, Richmond Hill. 700-151 ARRISTER, ATTORNEYâ€"ATâ€"LAW’, Somcn‘on IN CHANCERY, Convauxcm, 6m, Ate. ' Ox-‘Hcl:;â€"No. 12 York Chambers, South- east Corner of Toronto and Court Streets, Toronto, Ont. \VM. MALLOY, , ARRISTER, Attorney, Solicitor-in-Chan cery, Conveyancer, kc. OFFICEâ€"N0. 6 Royal Inaurance Buildings, Toronto street. Toronto, Dec. 2, 1859. 594 V Toronto University College, corner of Yonge and Centre Sta. East, Richmond Hill, begs to announce tothe public that is is now practising with H. Sanderson, of the name 'plaqe, where they may be consulted ergon- ally or by letter, on all diseases of lorses, cattle, &c. n All orders from. a distance promptly at tended to, and medicine sent to any part of the Province. Horses exaininegl a.- tq sduhdnens; and also bought and sold on comihissibn. ‘ _ _ Richmond Hill, Jan. 25, 1872. 507 1 Surveyor, Trust and Loan Buildings, cor- ner of Adelaide and Toronto streets, To- ronto. 719-tf Standg permanently above every other Rem dyafmiiu‘use. ‘Itisinvalufifleit . LS(),_)the Pain Victor is' ’Inhmble for A Diarrhoea, Dysentery, Flox, (Jolie, Cholera. Mot-bus, Pain and Cramp in the Stomach and Bowels, &c. Directions with each bottle and box. Sold by Druggists generally. .fl-‘he‘Dominion W'orm Cindy is the medicine 0 expel worms. Try it. 700-y I USTARD’S Pills are the best pills you _L can get for Dyspepsia, Sick Headache, Billinusness, Liver, -Ixid_uey Complaints, &c. HAVE yon Rlxeumatisxn,\_Vounds, Bruit-lea, Old Sores, Cuts, Burns, Frost Bites, Piles, Painful Swelllngs, \V'hite Swellings, zlmd every conceivable wound upon man or )east ? TV, USTARD'S Uatm‘rh Specific Gurus Acute i and Chronic cases 6f Cntarrh, Neural- ia,Headache, Colds, Cough‘s, Group, 'Aethma, ronchitis, &c., it is also a good Soothing Syrup. November 12, 1872. January 15, 1873 F. WHITLOCK, [HQINEY SWEEP, VANI? DEALER IN Manufactured by (LATE Mums 8: FOWLER,) RVCHITECT, CIVIL ENGINELR, AND J. H. SANDERSON, ETERINARY SURGEON, Graduate of ADAM H. MEYER-S, JR, PATENT- MEmcn 9120(3) 1:131 .A'L‘Rk) i (Late qf Duggan é‘ Meyers,) 'J‘H'E KING OF OILS . D. U. O'BRIEN, S. JAMES, Pl‘Bbfiéiér; Tigééou 11.:‘cMUS'11ARD, 756-1y 747-“ “ You will take it with you, of course,” I said, by way of making talk. “ 011, no 3 it would be a troublesome package. I have sent it to M1'.'Deane’s sister 5 she always admired and wanted it." Had grief turned the woman to stone? I took her chin in my hands and made her look at me, while I entreated her with tears to thll me what blight had fallen on her. I looked at the wall, too, and perceiv- ed that Mr; Dean’s portrait had been re- moved. She had let her house on a. long lease, and all her aflairs weoe as carefully set- tled as if she were going 'out of the world. “ You behave as if you had received sentence of everlasting exile,” I said to her on her last day, when she could no longer escape me. ‘71 hopeâ€"it may be so,” she replied, looking straight at the wall; “I have suffered so much here that,‘ but for tln children’s iptetest, I should be glad to see this house burnt to the ground.” Her beauty had always been warmed and hightened by happiness ; she need- ed sweet excitenients to keep a. flush in her naturally pale cheek and dewy brightness in her large gray eyes. \Vhen the sun is saying good night to the snow peaks of the Jungfrau, she colors like a blush rose ; but; ‘when the sun is gone she turns pale and gray, and is nothing but a cold rock after all. This was precisely the change in Isabel Deane. Her face was like a. transpar- ent picture, ‘softly glowing when the light; of happiness was behind it, but without that; light it was no picture at all. Her eyes were hard and cold as if she had no more tears left, and the corners of her month were sharply drawn as of one in the fixed habit of enduring pain without mentioning it. Her manner had a brisk abruptncss that I had never noticed before. The household habits, which had become a little demoralized by the presence of sorrow , had suddenly straightened into the utmost order. The servants eyed me curiously to see if I would notice the change, and made many furtive attempts to talk about it. I could not have been more bewildered if a. soft, pink baby had suddenly hard- ened under my hand into one of those grim old statues that keep guard over Egyptian tombs. She did not seem to manage it, but I could never see her alone, and she carefully ignored my hints at the change in her. “ Isabel will come round at last. She must have some idol, and since the big one is broken, she will set up three little ones in its place, and the worship will go on in her temple all the same," I said to a friend whom I was visiting for a week, whén Mr. Deane had been dead for about three months. I had liked John Deane very well myself. If Isabel must marry at all, which seemed strangely necessary to her happiness, as it does to many other women, I rather preferred him to any one else as her husband. He was wholly devoted to her, which was no more than she de- served, and for a. man he was very little in the way. Nevertheless, I reâ€" turned to her with a eertain inward comfort in the thought that she would be more than ever my friend, when she had fairly settled into the new groove that widowhood would make for her. To my blank surprise and consterna- tion I found her urging forward all posâ€" gible preparations to go abroad with her children for an indefinite time. A‘s wee}: dragged after week, Isabel began to ta'ke up the stitches she had dropped in mother-love, and the real strength that was in her, hitherto dor- man}, sprang up full-armed forher chil- dren. She had been wounded well nigh unto death, but half a dozen soft little hands did much to soothe and stroke away the pain. When my friend Isabel Deane sud- denly sank from a pinnacle of proud and happy wifehood into a desolate and heart-broken Widow, it was a change quite proper, and to be expected, that she should turn her face to the wall and refuse to be comforted for many days. John Deane had been her lover, as well as her husband, as long as he lived', and all the world quoted them as a model of married happiness. His death was so sudden, and all th‘é more overwhelm- ing, to the wife who had lain so serenely on his strength that she had never need to put out her own. I am an old maid myself, but I can dimly imagine what it might be to lean one's heart and soul on a good man for many years, till one's bones were all bent that Way, and then how long it might take, when the support was snatched away, to grope tarner about the world till one could learn to stand upright again. I offered Isabel no con- solation, because I knew of none ; I just sat down with her and her children day after day. When she gave long wistful looks at the portrait of her hus- band which hung always before her, I made her look at the baby’s smile; but when I saw her needle go hard through her work for falling tears, I could only let the baby go and cry with her. v I am not going to deny at any time of life,:and in this age of the worldflhat women are changeable. It has come to be one ofthe fixed facts that no one wastes argument upon ; nearly all wo- men acknowledge it. at once, as 1 do; but what We do contend for, with one 'voice, is, that we never change without good re'aSons. A 'WIDOW INDEED. RICHMOND H'LLL, ONTARIO, CANADA, FRIDAY, MARCH 27, 1874 Isabel had been abroad five years when she sent me a. golden curl of her daughter’s hair, braided with iron-gTay, which she insisted was her own. 1 sat twisting it about; my finger with my heart; full of rebellion against the evil fate that had taken her clean out of my sphere; when I had counted on a double share of her society for the rest of my life. . “This is the conclusion of the whole matter,” I said to myself for want of anybody else ,to say it to. “ Blessed be those who expect nathing. for they will not be disappointed." And on that instant the postman, darting up the steps in the rain, held up a letter to my window. It was a very thin letter and held‘onl y these words 2 Miss Dennison : If you will come around to the Russel Street Infirmary as soon as possible after receiving this note, you may do some good, and greatly oblige, yours truly, ' â€"When George Deane and his “ delu- ded wife” came home I charged them, on their honor, to give a true and unâ€" varnished ‘account of Mrs. Deane’s con- dition of body and mind. They had been so wrapt up in one another that they had not seen much change in her as to manner, but they had somehow got it into their foolish heads that she had not lived happily with her husband, as she would never talk of him even to her children. I speedily disabused their minds of that notion, for, as I'have said before, Isabel and her husband had never ceased to live in their honeymoon till his death. “ I have been bored to death, lately,” she wrote once, “ with the devotion of cousin George and his new wife. They may be called vagabonds, having no visible means of support; but love is to be food and drink and lodging, to say nothing of clothes. rI‘he deluded woman thinks she has power to keep him always at her feet, and it would not surprise me at all if he were already, in his heart, a little weary of her. Women are so easily deceived that I wonder men have taken so much pleas- ure in doing it through all ages. I begin to favor the French custom of selecting wives . and husbands for cone’s children, instead of leaving them to their own deâ€" vices, in the most important matter of their lives. The only objection lies in one of old Fuller’s nutshells : ‘ ’Tis to be feared that they who marry where they do not love, will love Where they do not marry ;’ but people will do that any way, and after all love is only the right side of grief. Her infrequent letters told nothing of her real life ; they were ’full of glit- tering generalities about pictures and cathedrals, and now and then a bitter jest; on the hollownWieé» Married happiness seemed to provoke her to special wrath. The trail of the serpent was over all her thoughts. When I pressed her about her own health she wrote, “I aim always well enough to bear my own burdens such as they are. Nothing can kill a woman you know.” But one or two travelers who saw her at Heidelberg (where she had fixed herself, to be near her brothers, who were in the university) brought word that she Was white and wan, and only the shadow of her former self. It injured my digestioh and disturbed my sleep ; for it forced me to take to pieces all my pet theories about women and make them over again. She went away names the see. next day with all her flock, but the dregs of her bitterness staid with me. I had believed in her, and been disappointed 3 it is not an uncommon experience beâ€" tween lovers, and I am assured that the sensation is very uncomfortable. I cer- tainly found it '30 in my own case. There must have been leaves on leaves folded away in her character, that I had never found or suspected, to account for the savage change in-a woman who had been “all womanly," “Yes, but you forget that the world was made in a week. It is long enough for moths to corrupt orthieves to break through and steal our dearest treasure. Do not speak lightly of a week,” she said, with a woeful smile that had better have been a sob. “Do I? Then you will be in the fashion. \Vomen’s hearts were made to be broken. The ‘crabk comes late to some and early to others. I had njong probation, but, it came at last all the same." “ That memory was your dearest trea~ sure when I left forthat short week, Isabel.” “ Isabel, you'break my heart,"’ I cried out. t "I have lacked oft itl‘in'all ways, and there is no right way but to take up my cross and bear it to the 6nd. I can bear it; better if I am away from all that can remind me of the old days. I shall not come home till I have outgrown even the memory of them.” “Since then I have known What it was to be-distracted in other ways, and only for the children's sake I would have died and made no sign. You see a. change in me, but I feel it; and I assure you I do not find any more "com- fort in it than you do, but it. cannot be helped.” ‘2 That is nonsense. It can-be helped if you will look at. it in the rigl‘ way.” “ Don’t; you remember 7‘the dayfiheu John sent home that portrait to sur- prise you on your birthday, and you went on your knees toyit with delight, as if it had been an altarY You were distracted with joy that day. MARIA STONE, Hahn of Mmary‘ “ She was a plain looking woman, at times when she had no color ; but if she had been a full-fledged angel, Mr. Deane could not have been more con- vinced of her beauty. He fairly wor- shipped the ground she walked on, and when I could hear them billing and cooing over their boy, I would grind my teeth with sheer envy of her happiness. “I tried in every way to attlfaLct'Mr. Deane’s attention, even to lacing his wife’s boots aft-er she found it difficult to stoop ; but he had eyes only for her foot, and never saw the scarlet flower in my hair. I held his boy till my arms aohed, and tried to magnetim him with py touch; hat I might as wall “ She treated me kindly, after a fashâ€" ion, but somehow she seemed to make no difference between me'and the ser- vants. I was just a person who served her purpose, and she wanted no more to do with me. I had been taught that my good looks were to be my for- tune, and she never noticed them at all. “I suppose not, but you must give both thought and understanding to the rest of what I have to say. Mr. Deane and his Wife, as possibly you have no- ticed, were the most perfectly happy married people that I ever saw. Being so long under their roof, I had every opportunity to observe it. I always sewed in a little room adjoining their bedchamber, which Mrs. Deane used as a nursery ; indeed, she usually sat there with the only child she had then. “ I have given no thought to the matâ€" ter at all,” I said, a. little sharply, recog- nizing her at last as one whom I had formerly disliked, and suspecting she was about to confess the theft of Isabel’s gold thimhle, or something of the sort. “I am Madeleine Dejoux, a seam- stress who worked three months once for Mrs. John Deane, making up the wardsobe for one of her babies. I think it was the second boy. I used to see you, Miss Dennison, every day, and you have changed very little. But I was handsome then, with a. brilliant Spanish sort of beauty; you would not suppose it to see me now ’1” “ For mercy’s sake, let me go and tell her,” I said, horrified at her care- less manner. “ It is for mercy’s sake to the living that; I have sent for you. Never mind the dead.” The woman was not in the least wild in her manner, and paused only to cough at intervals. I glanced over the room and perceiv- ed another bad,» in which the outline of a. human figure was visible under the coverlet. “Yes, she’s asleep fast enough, and. she won't trouble us with her dreams ; it’s the only kind of sleep worth hav- ing. She died while the matron was down stairs.” How often, but for our hard working guardian angels, we should pass by with a. snifl‘, and min forever thé most blessed opportunities of their‘livos 1 I sat down by the Woman's bed, and she grasped the cape of my “ water- proof” as if to be certain that I should not escape her. She was much emacia- ted (her cheek bones stood out like rocks at low water), and having been a. very dark brunette in her best days, her coal-black hair and extreme aallow‘ ness, made a ’ ghastly contrast: with the white pillows at her back. “Are we alone?” she ask'ed, when the matron went out and closed the door, without fibti’cing my silent en- treaty for her to remain. V“ Not quite ; there seems to be some one asleep in the other bed.” Even then I felt a. certain impatience that I had been dragged out on such a day, to hear the dying confession of a stranger; who probably intended it for some other person. “It don’t matter,” she returned, after walking for a prolonged coughing fit to pass. “ Nothing can hurt me, and I must say quickly what I have to say.” “ I am Miss Dennison,” I said, “ but I am very wet, and may give you a chill.” I was led through a, room containing seven or eight beds, all occupied by con- valescent patients, into a small one, so dark that I could not distinguish any- thing for a moment. “Is she here?” I heard a woman's voice ask faintly, and guided by the sound, I saw a. Woman lying on a. nar- row bed, propped up with pillows. “Are you ‘Miss Dennison?” said a woman, who seemed -to be, waiting to let me into the infirmary.‘ “ Yes.” “ Miss Eleanor Dennison ?" “ Yes.” “ Then you are the lady wanted.” It was comfort in myiaoaked condi- tion to hear even that, though I put no faith in it. Besides all this, it mined as if it were the first day of another deluge, and most likely the letter was meant for another Miss Denhison ; Dennison being a. common name, and the prefix Miss commoner still, and growing more so. I mu ashamed to say that I hesitated some _minutes with my rubber shoes in my hand ,' but curiosity, rather than be- nevolence, finally carried the day, and I went? forth on a long, wet walk to Russell street. Doing good in hospitals had never been my forte, and I was morally cer tain that I had never laid eyes on a woman of the name of Maria Stone. “ 1' studied every sentence of that lat tar as one studies the face of a. sick child, looking for hope in it. My love for M r. Deane had never gone out of my heart (for love never dies, I think), and in all these years I had kept ac- count more or less clotely of his habits and welfare. I knew that he was often driven from home by his business, and 1‘I happened to be aware of this mark on Mr. Deane’s shoulder from overheating his sister say that all her family had it precisely in the same spot, and she had looked for it on her no- thW as he sat on my lap. “With the utmost care and delibera- tion. I put together a letter, addressed to Deane, which would have car- ried conviction, even to your mind, that I had been near and dear to him. It was long and affectionate, and signed by my own name. It referred to those first days when he had spoken kindly to me in the sewing room, and to my meeting him more and more often after- ward away from home, and how Wiser than a serpent he had been in never letting his wife suspect it., It spoke of our blueâ€"eyed Johnnieâ€"how proud he would be to show papa, on his next visit, his first jacket and trousers. It spoke of my being Wholly dependent on him in my ill health, and how blessed I had been in gaining the love of so good a man. It reminded him ever so deli- cately of a certain allowance that he had promised to make me from the be- ginning of the current year; but the one thing that carried ~conviction to Mrs.‘ Deane’s mind, and I knew it would when I thought of it, was my telling him in theletter how Johnnie‘ had seen his back in the looking-glass, and had discovered a mole, ‘just like papa’s,’ on his shoulder. “ I had no prospect before me but a lingering death in the poorhouse, while my lovely, blue-eyed boy would be cuf- fed about some orphan asylum till he was old enough to work. In this evil case, when I was in sore extremity, I saw the death of John Deane in a. newspaper, and all my old wrongs at his wife’s hands rushed over me like a flood; at the same moment I remem- bered the ‘Seven Curses of London,’ and the trick that I had admired so much. I don’t pretend to make any de- fense (you aretoo hard-hearted to admit it if I did), but I was desperate, and I could not see my boy starve. “ I soon found people enough to look at my black eyes and the flowers in my hair, and I came to grief of course. You have been looking all along as if you ex- pected it. I came to grief without delay, as I said, but I got some pleasure on the way, perhaps as much as my batters in the long run. I got on well enough till a. slight cold turned to a cough, and I began to grow sick 'and poor equally fast. I had one child to support; he was then about five years old, the only creature who ever loved me. But I see you are not interested in him ; nobody ever was interested- in him except his mother. “About a month afterwards Mrs. Deane happened to hear me use a. vu1~ gar word before her little boy, who re« peated it at once. It was just; a. slip of the tongue, not worth noticing; but she could not make fuss enough about it, and sent me away directly. She was too self-righteousto give me any recom- mendation to her friends, and I had'to ll-AVAA\‘L|ULVLA lav ALGA ILADAL\}D, IlLLu j. Luau W go' ’intfi" é. sitiange plm;"wibh very libtle: money and no certificate of character. But never mind that now; she hashad her reward I “After a. man dies somebody Writes a. very familiar letter purporting to come from his mistress, or an accomplice in some piece of wickedness, asking for money according to promise, as if they had not heard of his death. The odds are that the poor woman, hoping to pre- serve her husband’s name from the stain and disgrace of ,an investigation, will send the money. Women are so credulous that they will believe one story as soon as another. I admired the talent and acuteness of such a trick ; it was to me the cream of the book, and I did not think it was too painful to be tine. I recommend it to you and all other stz‘t‘rhed-up women, who have seen nothing but the White side of this sepulâ€" chre of a. world)â€"â€"I say, if you have read it, you eannot fail to remember a certain chapter which, after describing many forms of villainy in the way of anonymous letters, goes on to detail a very ingenious method of getting money out of Widows and orphans, called the ‘ deed-lurk.y “They gave it up, however, after reading a few chapters, because she said in her mawkish way that it; was too painful to be true. I hope she has found out; by this time that because things are painful they are all the more likely to be true. I got; the book out of the library again as soon as they re- turned it, and finished it by myself. If you have read it (and if you have not, “It is not a safe bccupation for a. young girl to try such experiments. I had not been in the house two months beforel loved him with all my heart, and'he scarcely know me by sight. He had a habit of reading aloud to his wife for an hour or two every day, and one book, in which they were muéh interâ€" esled, was James Greenwood’s ‘Seven Curses of London.’ Mrs. Deane pre- tended great; sympathy with the poor wretches that it described and talked very lovingly of the fallen ones of her o.wn sex, of course Mr. Deane loved her for it more than (var, if that; were pos- sible. have been so much empty air; for him there was but. one woman in Lhe world. In less than two months Isabel came home, bringing her children. She looked worn and altered, but the sweet, soft dew of happiness again brightened her l eyes and flushed her cheek. Her talk, las of old, was full of simple, innocent, iwomanly matters, untouched by the sarcasms which had come over the see in all these years, and had pricked-me like arrows. We spoke no word of all that had come and gone between us. We just buried the ugly skeleton, and put no stone to mark the place. But when she was again settled in her old home, with her work-table in front of Mr. Deane's portrait (which she had begged from his sister“ I sometimes caught her returning glance as she gazed long upon it, and I constantly read in her face. “ Forgive me, forgive me, O my husband 1” To hear with eyes is part of love’s fine wit, And ours was not a Woman’s friendship, but I loved Isabel Deane Well enough for that. Then I sat down and folded my hands, so to 'speak, feeling myself the center of a great stretch of peace and dalmness, as people do after a troublesome piece of work is fairly finished and folded up and laid away for future use. One was : “ Madeleine Dejoux has confessed her deception.” And another: “ The woman who wrote a lying letter to you is dying ;" but I feared the tele- gram would be opened by a. stranger, or by one of the children, before it should reach Isabel, and the questions and surmises as to its meaning would be endless, \At last I settled on this: “ Glad tidings of great joy. Look for a letter.” Then I made three copies of Madelâ€" eine’s confession, and sent them on suc- cessive days to Heidleberg, that Isabel might be nearly sure of getting one of them if the others failed. I wrote half a. dozen telegrams before I could hit on a form of words that satisfied me. \Vhile Madeleine Dejoux’s words were fresh in my memory, I wrote every one as she had spoken them ; but they sould not reach Isabel in less than a fortnight, and I would not prolong her pain even that length of time. She turned her face away from me with a movement of impatience, as if she half grudged even that one white thread in a Whole life woven out of evil, and I went out of the infirmary and ran all the way to my own house. “ And if he had lived you would never have undeceived your victim; you would have let, her drag outs her life in torturing doubt of her husband’s faith?” ‘ “Yes, I think so.” “And I think so, too," I said, draw~ ing my cape, which she had never let go out of her hand. ' You are mistak- ing remorse for repentance ; but at least, to give you your due, you have done one good thing before it is too late.” “ I was sore tempted." she pleaded, ‘(fgndj 009E got. me my boy starve."§g_¢ " “ Where is your boy now ’1” ' “Oh, he is dead. I never repented till then." Define by it." â€" “ That; is of course. I may think of you in connection with Mrs. Deane’s sorrow as one thinks of the serpent in the ruin of Eveâ€"~we follow her fortune ever after, but I don‘t know that any- body cared What became of that par» ticular sérpent.” ’ “ Never mind,” she said; " I can do Without it as I have done always. I see your interest in me ends with this interview. You would trample me un- der your feet if you could help Mrs. Deane by it." “I! I, your friend?” [said with a shudder that I did not try to hide. “I see you have been furious,” she said, reading me as if I were printed in the largest type ; “but now you have turned scornful. You used to be a de- vout admirer of Mrs. Deane, who, with all her tameness, could fascinate men and women both. I know all the wires that men are pulled by, but I never had a. female friend unless you consent to be that one.” For one black instant I had a savage longing to clutch her throat and shake out of her What little life she had left, but the great joyfulness of the tidings that I could send to Isabel swept it away. I should have been a pagan in- deed to give another turn to the rack on which remorse and disease had long bound her. I felt only contempt for the working of such u mind, when she 100"- ed into my eyes again. “ She could spare it well enough, and after all, I don’t know why I should be sorry for doing it. She had more than her share of happiness, but I have often Wondered how she took my little thun- derbolt. I heard she went to Europe with her children.” Madeleine Dejoux had said all this in a. high, constrained voice, as if she had been wound up to run just so many minutes. She now shrank down among her pillows, and seemed to be bracing herself to receive my wrath in what- ever form it'might break upon her. Elm: lm mus obligexl “m be away many days at a time. I sent the letter in fear and trembling, and bided my time. In a. few days I had a. notice from a banking house in New York that a cer- tain sum would be paid me every year by order of Mrs. Isabel Deane, It was precisely the amount of the allowance I had mentioned in my letterâ€"not an ex~ travagnnt sum, but ust enough for the support of my boy and me decently. THE YORK HERALD Terintzuo-ne Dollar per Amman {a Adena IUBLISHED AT THE OFFICE Issued Weekly on Friday Morning YONGE Sax, RICHMOND HILL ALEX: SCOTT, PROPRIR'I‘OR WHOLE NO. 817