the servant was obliged to turn and follow her to keep within | lock and unique key, would be the safest possible repository for "Why, mistress, the truth is, that master don't like old Moss," replied Mort, in some embarrassment; "and when he first took up against her, he said she was to live 'way off somewheres where he wouldn't never see her again, and so she come here, and here she stays. Master don't never come this way 'count of her." "Oh, your master never comes here," repeated Mrs. Rathburne, thoughtfully, and forgot to make another remark, so that Mort, after a moment of respectful attention, quietly dropped behind and resumed his own journey, while Rosamond strolled on toward the house. As she neared it, she noticed her husband standing beneath a tree at some little distance from the steps, listening earnestly to Sooltan, who seemed to be relating something. As she drew near, she caught her own name, or rather the title of "Mem-sahib," by which the East Indian always spoke of his mistress, and she was about to inquire if the man had a message for her, when both Sooltan and his master abruptly walked away without noticing her at all. The incident, however, made but little impression upon her preoccupied mind, and she passed on to her own rooms, where, behind the shelter of locked doors, she could give way at last to the emotion that seemed stifling her. At dinner husband and wife met, he with his usual gloomy manner, she with the forced and unnatural gayety which is almost always the first vain mask of a woman's aching heart. The weary ceremony over, Rosamond rose, and was passing into the drawing-room when her husband, following her, said: "One minute, my dear. I have had some of my cases of Indian curiosities opened this morning, and you may like to look at them. Will you come into my study?" A little surprised at the proposition, yet nervously anxious to accept every overture of peace, the young wife at once turned and followed her husband into the large and elegant room built and fitted up for his private use. Upon a table in the centre of this room stood a number of rare and curious toys, all redolent of the luxury, the mystery, the barbaric splendor of the East. Models of Hindoo temples, of Mohammedan mosques, of the Taj, that everlasting memorial of an imperial love faithful unto death; a set of chessmen, every piece wrought to unique perfection; boxes of ivory, and sandal-wood, fans, bracelets, quaint idols, and voluptuous mod els-the collection, in short, of a wealthy and idle Sybarite, who was also a man of mind and letters. Put away these things-carry those to the Mem-sahib's apartments," said Rathburne, in Hindostanee. The man turned to the table, and began to pile the toys upon his arm in silence. Suddenly he paused. "And this, sahib?" asked he, touching the sandal-wood casket. "And that, sirrah-why not?" demanded Rathburne, angrily. 'It is the box Mamonna prepared for the Burra-sahib," murmured Sooltan. "Well, slave, and why not? Do as you are ordered, and leave the rest to your betters." "My lord is master, and Sooltan is but a slave," murmured the Oriental, and retreated backward from 'the room with his fragrant and beautiful burden. The next day Rosamond left the house at her usual hour, and walked in one of her most usual directions; half a mile from home, however, she changed her course, struck into a dimlydefined woodpath, and after fifteen minutes of difficult and almost dangerous walking, found herself at the edge of the clearing about aunty Moss's hut. The old woman, as before, was crouching idly in the sunshine at her door, but as Rosamond approached stood upright, and, with a silent courtesy, drew a sealed letter from her pocket, and handed it to her mistress, who, with a vague murmur of acknowledgment, tore it open, and eagerly read: "I will not address you as that man's wife; I dare not call you by the old familiar name; but you know my heart without words, and of this I say no more. But I fear that you are unhappy, perhaps ill-treated. Common report deals harshly with the name you now bear. I have heard dark rumors; I will not repeat them now; but I must know from your own lips, or your own pen, that you are safe, at least-safe and content. I am too selfish to insist upon you calling yourself happy. Darling -oh, pardon! but it is written, and I will not recall it— you must see me at least once again-or rather it is I who must see you. Leave a line with Moss to say when you will meet me at her hut; and, should my worst fears be realized, come prepared to journey with me toward that home to which, should need be, I will conduct you in a safety and honor, without hope or possibility of reward. C. M." Rosamond examined everything with interest and admiration, "At four o'clock this afternoon. But I shall not leave him As he spoke, he took from behind the Taj a square box, most ily penciledcuriously and quaintly wrought, of sandal-wood, with ornaments of silver filigree, the tireless labor of those artizans of—yet." Delhi, whose whole lives pass in the elaboration of a single toy, and who perish of starvation while placing the finishing touch upon their work. "Oh, how exquisite! What a wealth of ornament, and how fragrant!" exclaimed Rosamond. "What is it for?" "Anything you please," returned her husband. Handkerchiefs, gloves, jewels, papers, anything one likes to keep honorably and safely. Pray, take it, if you like; but be careful if you lock up your treasures in it that you do not lose the key, for the lock is very complicated, and could not possibly be opened except with this key." As he spoke he touched the silver toy dangling by a string from one handle of the casket, and added the box to a little pile of articles set aside to be sent to Mrs. Rathburne's own The young woman made no reply; the thought had already crossed her mind that this casket, with its complicated rooms. Twisting this brief note, the young woman turned to the negress, who sat, toad-like, blinking up into her face. "Aunty," said she, "an old friend of mine is coming here to meet me this afternoon at four o'clock; you will see that no one interrupts us, won't you?'' 'Yes, mist'ss, I'll take keer; but, oh, mist'ss, I's awful skeert for you-scuse me, mist'ss, but dat's so." "Scared for me, Moss!" exclaimed Mrs. Rathburne, indignantly;" what do you mean?" "Oh, mist'ss, don't you be mad; but did mas'r ever tell you 'bout his first wife?" "His first wife! He never had one before me, of course." Oh, but he had, mist'ss; he had, and she died 'cause she tried to get away from him, same as dat ar genelman wants to take you away." "How did she die, Moss-what killed her?" 1 "He give her med'cine, mist'ss; an' de reason he hate to see | me roun' is cause I made dat med'cine for him." "You !" "Yes, mist'ss, but I nebber knowed 'twas for her, poor lilly missy. Hark! mist'ss, dere's some one in de bushes dere a-watchin' of you." "Yes, I thought she would put it here," murmured Rathburne, seizing upon his rival's letter; "the lock is so peculiar, and the key so impossible to replace." And grinning like a fiend, he opened and read the letter. As he did so his brow grew dark. "He will carry her off, will he? It shall be in a coffin, then," muttered he, fiercely. "And she has gone to meet him now. Shall I pursue them, and kill him before her eyes? No, we will Speaking the last words in a low, rapid voice, old Moss rose, and sauntered carelessly into her house, while Rosamond, fancying that she distinguished a dark figure among the under-try Mamonna's cure for infidelity first." brush, and overcome with a vague terror, hastened rapidly away in a homeward direction. Arrived there, she found that her husband had ridden to the neighboring town upon business, and, with a certain sense of freedom in his absence, she shut herself up in her chamber, and drawing Musgrave's letter from her bosom, read it carefully over, and then, unlocking the sandal-wood box, laid it carefully in, locked the box, and hung the key upon a little chain about her neck. Then, as the day reached its heat, she threw herself upon a couch and slept profoundly, until, awaking with a start and glancing at her watch, she found the time of her appointment close at hand. Hastily arranging her dress, she quietly left her chamber and the house, wondering a little as she stole down the steps whether her husband might yet have returned. Her doubt would have been solved had she returned ten minutes later to see him stealthily enter her chamber, locking the door behind him. Approaching the window, he cautiously looked out, and caught sight of her retreating figure hastening toward old Moss's cottage. With a diabolical smile, he wafted a kiss toward it, then turned, and taking the sandal-wood casket from the bureau, turned it over, pressing a spring hidden among the ornaments of the cover as he did so. With a low click, the end of the box turned down upon invisible hinges, leaving the interior wholly disclosed. Taking from his waistcoat pocket a small flat vial, very carefully stopped, and which Mr. Rathburne handled with exceeding caution, he dropped a small portion of the liquid contained in it into the cavity of the box, so managing that it should fall principally upon the lower part, where the letter would naturally lie. The moment this was done he hastily replaced the letter, and closed the box as rapidly as possible. Then hastening into the adjoining bathroom, he carefully washed his hands, and wiped the neck and stopper of the little vial with a wet cloth, which he then tore up and flung away. All this done, Mr. Rathburne left the chamber, muttering, with his evil smile: "There, my precious darling, by the time that little dose has combined with the upas-wood of the box and brought out its peculiar properties, your iove-letter will be all ready for you to kiss and fondle and lay on your bosom as much as you like. A very pretty retribution, and so safe! Much better than Moss's clumsy draught. What a singular fate, that both my wives should select that old witch as their confidant! I will bury Rosamond beside Helen, and burn old Moss upon their graves." Revolving this attractive scheme, Mr. Rathburne sauntered out upon the lawn, where presently he met his young wife, who, flushed and nervous, was hastening toward home. 66 Why, my darling," cried he, advancing to meet her, "what a gad-about you have become! Where have you been upon a table, and staggered back, both hands pressed upon his this time?" forehead. "He suspects nothing," thought poor Rosamond, running up ing. Hastily depositing him upon the bed, he stood for a mothe steps with a heart almost light once more. In her chamber she found her maid, and not a moment too much remained of the time devoted to dressing for dinner, an observance upon which Rathburne punctiliously insisted. The evening passed quietly enough in the drawing-room, but more hilariously in the butler's pantry, whither Mort had invited Sooltan to taste a cordial of his own composition, and to smoke a pipe of mild tobacco. Sooltan, temperate by nature, like most Orientals, had yet seen too much of the world to be shocked by either of these propositions, and, to tell the truth, had imbibed a taste for such indulgences, which he saw no necessity of denying. Mort, on the other hand, had grown up among bottles, demijohns and casks, and their contents had hardly more effect upon his seasoned brain than upon the glass or wood which held them. It is therefore not remarkable that Sooltan became communicative and Mort attentive, and that when the latter gradually and skillfully led the conversation to their young mistress, the valet allowed himself to be convicted of holding a secret with regard to her, and finally of so nearly divulging that secret that Mort shrewdly guessed at what remained untold. "Mighty curious kind o' box dat mas'r give mist'ss," said he, carelessly. "Mamonna made it, and Sooltan bought it for sahib," said the East Indian, significantly. "And if she puts de letter, or whater in dere, it'll pizen her when she goes for to take it out. Sho! I don't believe dat story." "You better believe it, black man. Sooltan knows." "Couldn't b'lieve it without I saw it, Sooty." "Come, then, all softly to the Burrasahib's room when I go to arrange his toilet. No one will come. We two will slip like the wind into the Memsahib's room, and I will show you whether Sooltan is a liar." "Come, then, if you darst," said Mort, briefly. And then the two men, quietly leaving the pantry, stole up a back stairs, listened a moment in the upper hall to the continuous murmur of voices below-stairs, and then softly entered Mr. Rathburne's room, where Sooltan, as he had intimated, had duties at that hour, and where Mort's presence would not have been very remarkable had he been discovered there. Listening and peering about until quite sure that all was safe, Sooltan glided noiselessly through the dressing-room separating the two chambers, and almost immediately returned with the box in his hand. "See now, black man," said he, cautiously. "Put finger there-push SO- let him side drop down so, and " An inarticulate exclamation finished the sentence, and Sooltan, hastily dropping the letter he was already handling, closed the box, mechanically placed it ment grimly watching him, his fingers dubiously fingering a little box which he had drawn from an inner pocket of his waiscoat; but finally shaking his head, he turned away, muttering: "What's the use o' saving him? he ain't got no kind o' conscience-can't even keep his master's secrets." And Sooltan, in those words, was doomed to die, for the poison, from whose effects Mort could have saved him, was already working in his veins. When Mr. Rathburne came up to his room an hour or two later, he found Mort waiting beside the toilet-table to tell him that Sooltan was ill, and to offer his own services as valet. These the master negligently accepted, saying: "Ah, yes, you used to be my own boy once, you know, and I suppose you have not forgotten." "No, mas'r, I have not forgotten," replied the negro, quietly, and the toilet proceeded. Mr. Rathburne, a luxurious man in all his habits, was fond of reading in bed, and Mort's final duty was to arrange the lamp, the stand, and the books for this recreation. This done, he THE HOUSE-DOG AND THE WOLF.--PAGE 262. said, with some hesitation, "Mas'r, there was a letter Sooltan | over, she married him quietly, nor has either husband or wife found somewheres about the house, and showed it to me this yet seen cause to regret the hour which merged their separate afternoon, that mabbe you'd like to know about. He said 'twas lives in one. a letter from one of your old sweethearts, and he'd show it to mist'ss and get money for it.", "What's all that?" demanded Rathburne, savagely. "What has the fellow picked up? I always knew he was a traitor. What is this letter, Mort, my good fellow?" "I don't know noffin 'bout writing, mas'r, but when Sooltan got sick I sort o' took dat letter out he pocket and hid it, and I'll get it for mas'r." “Get it, then. The copper-colored scoundrel !'' And Mr. Rathburne clinched his hand and knit his brows in a manner very unpromising for Sooltan, should he come within the reach of either at that moment. Mort, meantime, had left the room by the hall-door, and entered the dressing-room by that way, having previously closed the door of communication. As he stole toward the place where he had hidden the poisoned casket, he heard his mistress anxiously exclaim: The plantation and all other property of the late Mr. Rathburne was sold by his widow soon after his death, and she never has revisited the South; but Mort and his mother, old Moss, were duly provided for in the way nearest to their own hearts, and lived long and happily to bless the deliverance that came to them from Mamonna's casket of Sandal-wood and Silver. APACHE PRISONERS BREAKING SILVER ORE IN CHIHUAHUA. THE Apaches have long been a terror of the frontier of Mexico and the United States, and the Mexican Government has seldom succeeded in checking their inroads. Yet, perhaps confinement and hard labor is a better system for those they can capture than any other. Our sketch shows the inner court of the silver works at Galeana, Why, Nellie, what has become of the box that stood upon in Chihuahua, where the mine-owner, being jefe politico, has a serthis bureau to-day-the sandal-wood and silver box?'' "My gracious, mist'ss, is that box gone?" began the maid, volubly; but Mort waited for no more. He had already touched the spring, slipped out the old and yellow letter with which he had an hour before replaced Musgrave's note, hidden the casket again, and was now hastening toward his master's bedside. Spite of the powerful antidote which he had applied, both externally and internally, the subtle poison of the casket was already stealing through his veins. But making a terrible effort, he threw off the dizzy apathy, and crossing the room, placed the paper in Rathburne's hands. geant's squad of five soldiers, and his place is a kind of fort. Here five Apache prisoners are shown at work, with irons on their feet. Their food is that of peon's, with some tobacco, to encourage them to work. Of the five, one Perhico was an old man, almost in his dotage; the youngest, a chief in his tribea man with a fine, benevolent face; Hefbatio, a vigorous young fellow tending to obesity, but otherwise well-shaped; the fourth, a proud and haughty young warrior; the other, Tonino, was an ordinary-looking fellow. Most of the time not given to working their appointed tasks was spent in gambling, and this led to quarrels, which resulted in their being locked up, each "Helen! Has she come from her grave to haunt me? Helen bearing his confinement after his own fashion, the young war-Rosamond-Helen' And Molyneux Rathburne, still grasping the faded and yellow paper Mort had hoarded so many years with some indefinite design of retribution, sank back upon his pillows, while the sweat of mortal pain and fear broke out upon his clammy fore head. "What is this-Mort?" stammered he. "I'll tell you, mas'r," said the slave, grasping at a chair for support, and speaking quickly and gaspingly. "That letter's been in the box you pizened for poor lilly mist'ss letter. I've served you same as you wanted to serve her. Want to know why? You took the girl I wanted to marry, and when you was tired of her you sold her to a worse man, and she killed herself. And you killed your first wife, and you'd ha' killed my mother but you was 'fraid, and now you's going, and mabbe I'll have to go too” As he said the last words, Mort sank heavily upon the floor, insensible and gasping. Nelly, the maid, hearing the fall, rushed in, and her screams soon aroused the family-all but two. Mr. Rathburne was not to be roused by sound or sight of this world, and Sooltan, his slave, had accompanied his master upon the longest journey they had yet undertaken together. Mort recovered, thanks to the antidote with which his wise mother, knowing her master's love of poisons, had long ago provided him; but it was very long before he recovered from the shock he had sustained. So soon as he was able to speak, he sent for his mistress to his bedside, and feebly said: "Dat letter, mist'ss, dat one in the box, you know"Yes, Mort; what about it?" "I burned it up; nobody never saw it. It was pizened to kill you, and I burned it up. It's all right now, and I don't want to say nothing more about it, if so be you'll be so 'dulgent, mist'ss.' And Rosamond had the rare courage and generosity to let the faithful slave keep his secret then and ever. When Mort could once more move about the house, his first excursion was to his late master's dressing-room, and a few moments later the rare and wonderful and never-to-be-replaced casket was blazing in the fire Mort had caused to be kindied in his own room expressly for the purpose of its destruction. Mrs. Rathburne journeyed North under the charge of her friend, Mr. Musgrave, and when her year of widowhood was rior's being that of a wild beast. The tame Indians (Indios mansos), who form the chief population, are much neglected and oppressed. Without religious guides, the teaching of the early missionaries has remained only in a sad confusion with pagan traditions. THE HOUSE-DOG AND THE WOLF. ONE moonshiny night a gaunt, hungry wolf fell into company with a well-fed house-dog by the side of a forest. After the usual polite inquiries as to each other's welfare and some gencral remarks on the weather, the wolf said: "How is it, my friend, that you look so comfortable and happy? I have to work, I am certain, far harder for my livelihood than you, and yet it is with difficulty I can keep myself from starvation." "If you wish to fare as I fare," said the dog, "you must do as I do." "What do you mean?" asked the wolf. "Why," said the dog, "I keep guard over my master's house, and I have the best of meat, drink, and lodgings for my pains." "Well, then," said the wolf, “I shall be most happy to do the same; for I assure you that at present I have but a sorry time of it; and to have plenty of victuals and a good roof over my head, instead of my present hard lodging in the wood, where I am exposed to the rain and storm and cold, will be no bad bargain." "Well, then," said the dog, "please to follow me." Now as they trotted on together the wolf espied a strange mark on the neck of the dog, and being somewhat of a curious nature, he inquired what had caused it. “Oh,” said the dog, avoiding the question, “nothing at all." "Nay, but- -" persisted the wolf. "Well, if you must know," said the dog, the chain." "it is the mark of am such a favorite with everybody; they all fondle and caress MORAL.-Freedom, even in poverty, is better than any servi tude. THE COBRA DI CAPELLO AND THE SNAKE STONE. THE Cobra di Capello, or hooded cobra of India, inhabits many parts of Asia. It is easily distinguished from other serpents by its hood, a curious expansion of the neck, attributable not only to the skin and muscles, but to the flat ribs at this portion of the body. Another peculiarity is, that it bears on the back of the head two large eyelike spots. united by a curved black stripe, the whole not unlike a pair of spectacles. One day (says the Hindoo legend) that Buddha lay sleeping in the sun, a cobra raised its body so as to shield his face from the scorching rays. The grateful deity promised to repay the favor, but forgot to do so. In those days the Brahminny kite was the great enemy of the cobra, and the neglected serpent prayed Buddha to protect him. On this the god gave him the mark in question, and it so terrified the kite that he has never since troubled the cobra, The cobra varies much in color. Some are brownish olive, with white spectacles, edged with black. When they are covered with irregular crossbands of black, the spectacles are remarkably bold, while in some brown and black varieties the spectacles are entirely wanting. The Hindoos have a curious remedy for its deadly bite, the snake stone, which is applied to the wound, and seems to absorb the poison. The origin and nature of these stones has long been kept secret, but they are said to be manufactured chiefly in the convents at the Philippine Islands. It is said by some to be simply a piece of stag's horn wrapped closely in straw or hay, folded in a piece of sheet copper to exclude the air, and then calcined in a charcoal fire. English physicians in India have used with great success in ""Twas a late hour to fix it for, ma'am. Old Sir What's-hisname wrote word he couldn't be here afore afternoon; so they put it off to four o'clock for his convenience." Mrs. Cumberland looked up inquiringly. She did not understand. "I mean young Bohun's relatives, ma'am. Madame's brother-in-law by her first husband." "Sir Nash Bohun! Is he coming?" "Sir Nash-that's the name," remarked Mrs. Gass. "I know when Mr. Richard said it, it put me in mind of grinding the teeth." "What could have induced them to ask him?" wondered "He is no relative." Mrs. Cumberland. "It sounds grand to have him, ma'am-and that's all she thinks of," returned Mrs. Gass, with slighting allusion to mad"Or may be, as it was an uncommon death, they want I look upon it as no better to make it an uncommon funeral. ame. than a murder." It appeared that a night or two subsequent to Edmund North's death, Captain Bohun found in his own desk a sheet of folded note-paper. It contained a few words in Edmund's handwriting, not apparently addressed to anybody in particular, but to the world in general. No date was appended, but the ink looked fresh, as if it had been recently written. "When the end comes, make no fuss with me, but bury me quietly out of sight.-E. N." Captain Bohun, not having the faintest idea of who put it it in this desk, or how it came there, carried it to Richard North. Richard showed it to his father. From thence it curing cobra wounds a plant called Aristolochia Indica, a creep-spread to the house, and to one or two others. Opinions were ing plant of the same family as our snake-root. CHAPTER VI.-LOOKING AT THE FUNERAL. N THE comfortable dining-room of Mrs. The visitor was Mrs. Cumberland. "Is the funeral ever coming?" she exclaimed. seems to be some delay." divided. Mr. North thought his ill-fated son had intended to allude to his own death; that he must have felt some foreshadowing of it on his spirit. On the contrary, Arthur Bohun and Richard both thought that it was nothing more than one of his scraps of poetry; and this last idea was at length adopted. Arthur Bohun had related the circumstance to Mrs. Cumberland, and it was this she meant to speak of to Mrs. Gass. Mrs. Gass, who knew nothing of it, thought, and quite naturally, that she spoke of the piece of paper found on her carpet. "Of course, it might have been nothing more than some ideas he had dotted down, poor fellow, connected with his nonsensical poetry," slightingly observed Mrs. Cumberland, who was the first to resume speech; "but I can only think he was alluding to his own death." ""Twere odd sort of poetry," cried Mrs. Gass, after a pause and a stare. "The only curious part about it to my mind is, that it should have been found in Arthur Bohun's desk," pursued Mrs. Cumberland, the two being unconscious still that they were at the cross-purposes. "He says he has not left his desk unlocked at all, that he is aware of-but of course he might have done so." "What has Captain Bohun's desk got to do with it?" inquired Mrs. Gass, beginning to feel a little at sea. "The paper was found in Captain Bohun's desk. Though why Edmund North should have hidden it there remains a mystery." "Ma'am, whoever told you that must have been just trying to deceive you. It was found on this carpet." "Found on this carpet!" "On this very blessed carpet that we've each got our feet on, "There ma'am. Right back again the claw of that there centre dining-table." |