"She was here yesterday-just there, sitting on a fallen log. | there lay an old man with gray hair. People passed by him She spoke to me, and asked me for grapes. Only fancy, grapes at this season! But she looked as if she did not know what she was saying, sc strange and miserable she seemed, although she had on a real silk dress. But I found this a mile below there. She must have walked on." "How great a reward dost thou expect?" asked Gretchen. "Give me the pin, and I will give thee a gulden. The young lady lives with us, and her husband also; but she has been gone two days." The gulden seemed better than any problematic future reward, and the child took it gladly; and Gretchen, with the jewel in her hand, walked a mile or two further to a lonely spot where there was a knot of trees, and a little boat turned upside down on the beach. A man stood by the little boat daubing it with some tar. He looked up as Gretchen came near and nodded, saying, after the fashion of the country: "Ei, grüss dich Gott"-a fine day! Gretchen sat down on a stone. She was very tired. "You see I am giving her a new coat," said the man, in a friendly manner. "She was out in the squall last night, and got barked a bit. The weather's as uncertain as a woman now." Gretchen nodded and smiled.. "I know a bit about weather, and I told the foreign Herr that a squall were coming on; but he were persistent to go, and he paid all damages very generous. He had a tussel to get back, though, and he had to leave the lady on the other side. He were as wet as a water-rat, and looked as if he had been fighting mit der teufel." Old Gretchen found a sudden interest in the man's words. "A foreign Herr and a lady! The lady must have spoiled her clothes in that rain." "A fine lady, yes; in blue silk with a white shawl. She was not very eager to go; but the gentleman, who had fiery black eyes, said, 'You did not used to be such a coward, Crescenz.' I noticed the name because I have a little maiden of my own called that.” Gretchen was tired no longer. She was strong through excitement. She bade the man a friendly farewell, and hurried back to Munich without resting a moment. She went to the first office of police and told her story. The officer listened coldly. "That proves nothing," he said; "but we will look after this Mr. Archibald Grant, and also see who are brought into the morgue." wait. And the kind-hearted old woman was forced to go home and She did not go to the Quartiermeisterinn, but to an humble friend who lived in the fourth story of a great house. The two drank their beer together that night, and Gretchen imparted the whole history. "The poor "I see it all," said the Frau Salm, nodding. young lady met her husband on the bank of the river, and he appeared friendly, perhaps, and asked her to go out on the water, and it grew dark and squally. He could have tipped her in, or strangled her; no one would have heard her scream. Such donnern und blitzen as we had last night, Gretchen! But the water keeps no secrets. God will bring it to light. Suppose we go to the morgue ourselves to-morrow?'' carelessly; a poor old man, he had lived his life, they thought. Furrows were on his weather-beaten face, his poor wrinkled hands were crossed stiffly on his breast. They had carried many a burden in their day, "Now is done their long day's work," they may rest. No one dropped a tear for the worn-out life. But stop! make way there! a new inmate is brought. The people stand aside, but look with curious eyes. What are the men carrying? Gretchen only looked an instant, and then dropped on her knees. She did not need to see more. The white, ghastly face, the long, unbraided hair in wet masses, the trailed and dripping dress. 46 Oh, mein Gott!" she cried, wringing her faithful friend's hands, "she is there! Oh, my sweet young lady! Oh, the poor child!" Yes, it was Crescenz! The pale, golden hair soiled and dim, the blue eyes, half open, but dead and glazed, the dress half torn, leaving a white neck, fair and pure as a snow-wreath, bare. Gretchen strove to be quiet as she made her way nearer to the sad sight. "Holy "See, see!" she cried, pointing to the snowy neck. Mary! do you see the purple marks? Her dream came true. Oh, my poor child!"' Yes, so plain on the white skin showed the purple marks, as if an angry hand had written there, in ineffaceable characters that all could read, the tale of violence and wrong. Poor Crescenz! as she had dreamed so had she passed through the gate of death, with garments soiled and dripping, up to the celestial city. Did the mother indeed open the golden gates to that weary pilgrim, too early worn and worsted in life's battle? Was it not a sweet rest to aching heart and tired feet, there to summer high in bliss upon the hills of God? God rest thee, poor Crescenz! Mr. Archibald Grant was very busy this evening. He was putting his clothes in order, preparing for a journey. He was tired of Munich. The Leroys had gone to Paris, and he had promised to follow. He hummed a gay opera air while he put in the wonderful assortment of ties which he had collected on his tour. Other travelers might collect fossils or flowers, he had a tie for every town. This blue and gold Crescenz had picked out-bah! How odd it was that the remembrance of this girl haunted him so! It was so good just now that she was out of the way, that she had taken that sudden fancy to go to Switzerland, else he would not be free to follow the beautiful Sylvia Leroy to Paris. How much was old Leroy worth, he wondered. He stopped his packing, lost in calculation. And Sylvia certainly fancied him, there was no doubt of that; the old hunks would come down handsomely, of course. Sylvia was not so young as she had been, but well preserved, and gifted with better charms than eternal youth-golden charms. "What a fool I was only last year!" said Mr. Archibald Grant. Strange how last year and its scenes followed him. Strange how persistent things are which we want to forget, while memory is so treacherous about what we want to remember. The Alpine heights, with their eternal snows, glittered before him, the waterfalls fringed with pines, the smiling valleys, with their lush grass and pink-tipped daisies, the pretty cottages, and in every scene one face, a girl's face, with glittering braids that caught the sunshine, such hair as Rubens loves to paint, and eyes innocent and trusting as a child's, and full red lips. What a tiresome torment memory was, and this photographing things on the brain! The next day Gretchen covered her finery with an old black shawl, and the two took their way solemnly to the deadhouse. They had lived long and seen many a corspe, yet something of the chill of death crept into their veins and froze the warm life-tide as they stood among the dead. Gretchen saw in a inoment that Crescenz was not there. An old woman knelt and cried over her son, who lay stark and stiff with a rosary in his hands. He looked thin and worn. "He was devoué," said the mother, the tears streaming down her worn face, "he was melancholy, and just went out three days ago and drowned himself; my poor boy, he was unhappy in this world, but I must live." A pretty young peasant girl was laid out near.hurrying by, and--but let us shut out the vision. No one seemed to weep over her-she had no friends. poor thing from the country," said Gretchen, with sympathy, glancing at the glossy brown braids, the pretty, fair neck, with its silver chain, the softly curling eyelashes that shadowed a cheek from which the roses seemed only a moment fled. And | porter. Why, now-just now-there was a horrible picture on his brain, or in his mind, or where was it? He could not wipe it out. Earth could give him no sponge to wipe out this haunting vision!-a river, a low bank of sandy beach and tangled rushes, and a clump of trees, a stormy sky, with dark clouds "Some The straps were fastened. He was ready to go. He felt suddenly hurried; it wanted half an hour of the time. He turned. the key in his door, and took it down to the porter. "I wish the gentleman a happy journey," said the polite "I am an English citizen," he said: "for what am I Gretchen did not need to read. arrested?" "Well, he can't follow her into the next world, that's one "For the murder of your wife," answered the man, quietly. comfort," she said; "she's in quite a different place, ganz And the prisoner said no more. Gretchen looked after them a moment, until they got into a droschke and were whirled out of sight. Then she heaved a great sigh. "I have only done my duty," she said, "but it has been the ardest work I ever did in my life. God give him grace to pent, the miserable sinner!" gewiss." The Frau Quartiermeisterinn displayed the paper triumphantly to her neighbors. "Have I not always said it?" she cried; "that Herr Grong was a savage, and that Gretchen, who left me in such a style, do you think she intended to elope with him? it looked like it, indeed, the miserable woman!" EDITH'S READING LESSON; OR, THE WOLF AND THE LAMBS. WITH a pretty prattling lisp, As she shook her curls so crisp, Of Red Riding Hood she read, greatly marveling; And her pretty color fled, As she bent her curly head, When she came to the Wolf, that hungry starveling! And she whispered, "Sister Loo, Oh, can it all be true, And did the wicked Wolf eat up all the little maiden?" Was the Wolf quick bounding on with another Red Hood laden! And "Archie" softly stole Up to that grassy knoll, And growled a dismal growl, as to that pretty pair he gently drew near; And Edith cried in fear, Oh, save me, sister dear, And she did; for the monster but devoured (with quick kisses) his own "Loo dear!" MRS. FRAZER'S ADVENTURE WITH THE SAVAGE WOMEN OF AUSTRALIA. OUR illustration represents an adventure of Mrs. Ann Frazer, who was shipwrecked off the coast of New South Wales on the 24th of May, 1835, when the Sterling Castle, commanded by Captain Frazer, ran upon a coral reef and was hopelessly disabled. They took to the boats, and for some days hopelessly drifted about, at last landing on a spot about a hundred miles from Moreton Bay. Here they were surprised by savages, who set the men to work felling trees for them, while the women of the tribe took possession of Mrs. Frazer, and subjected her to many indignities, one of them forming the subject of our engraving. As Mrs. Frazer, half dressed, reclined upon the ground, the delicate whiteness of her skin, contrasting so vividly with the dusky savages around her, was the subject of much talk among them, and excited their insults and laughter, and finally they covered her with a peculiar kind of gum dye, which imparted to her skin a tint something like their own. They then smeared her hair with gum, and stuck in it a bundle of parroquet feathers, roughly using her and taunting her all the while; one of the mothers insisting on Mrs. Frazer nursing her child, and in the end all cruelly beating her. During their captivity, Captain Frazer and several of the men were slain by the brutal savages, and Mrs. Frazer's life trembled in the balance. Eventually, a black man belonging to the ship escaped in a small boat, made his way to Moreton Bay, and informed the officials of the British government of the disas trous circumstances. They dispatched a troop of soldiers, and Mrs. Frazer and the remnant of the crew were rescued from their barbarous captors. A passage to England was granted her, and on her arrival there the Admiralty settled upon her a pension for life. Her misfortunes, and the fortitude with which she bore them, excited much sympathy at the time, and now, thirty-five years after, not one of the aboriginals of Australia is in existence. THE EAGLE. THE tawny Eagle seats his callow brood High on the cliff, and feasts his young with blood: A MODERN MAZEPPA. FELIX MOCQUARD was one of those Frenchmen of whom it might be properly said he was never at home unless he was abroad. When a boy he developed a faculty for traveling and adventure which was remarked by his friends, and which caused the prophecy of his aged grandfather, that if he had only been born poor, and dependent upon his own energies, he would make for himself a name among the world's great travelers. His delight was in reading books of travel and adventure, and while in his teens his parents consented that he should make the tour of Europe. This he did so completely as to leave scarcely a region unvisited. He viewed the splendors of the aurora-borealis from th plains of Lapland, and came near freezing to death among the steppes of Russia. His boat was capsized in the Caspian Sea, where he saved himself by his consummate skill in swimming; he lost his way in the Black Forest, and was rescued by a peasant, whom he rewarded so munificently that the poor fellow expressed the hope that he would lose his way again, and give him the opportunity of benefiting him gratuitously; he came near being smothered from approaching too close to the crater of Vesuvius, and finally reached Paris in the enjoyment of more rugged health than he had ever known, and with his passion for traveling increased tenfold. but I plunged ahead, on the look-out for any sort of game, for I was beginning to feel very hungry. I couldn't remain thirsty long, for enough water soaked into me to prevent that. I could have hauled out some fish from the numerous streams, but I was anxious to secure something different. Nevertheless, Mocquard contented himself as best he could | the land, so that I could scarcely see a dozen yards before me ; at home for the succeeding year. His mother was in a decline, and peacefully passed away, and was laid in the grave. A few months later her affectionate husband followed her, and the son found himself an orphan, without brother or sister, and with the control of an immense estate, whose revenue was sufficient for almost any man of the world in the gay capital-Paris. It need scarcely be said that Mocquard took up the "profession" of traveling with greater ardor than ever. With no ties to keep him in his native place, he resolved to spend twenty years of his life in journeying over the world, when, if inclination suggested, he would marry and settle down. The aged grandparent had uttered the truth when he said that Felix only needed poverty to make him famous as a traveler. Had he been a man ambitious to make a name, and compelled to rely upon his right arm for the wherewithal to sustain life, he would have developed an energy in the pursuit of know- | ledge and adventure, which would have been seen in a half dozen volumes as entertaining as those of Cumming, Gerard, or Du Chaillu. But Mocquard never so much as kept a diary of his travels, and never could be induced to put an adventure of his upon paper. "What is the use?'' he would indolently ask, when pressed to do so. "Others have had the same experiences, and have given them to the world, and that is enough without my taking the trouble." Such of his exploits as found their way into print came from his lips, when, in a social company, with his cigar between his fingers, and his glass of wine placed beside him, he felt in the mood. At such times he would entertain them for hours at a time with some of the most thrilling adventures which ever befeil mortal man. It was in this manner that the following extraordinary occurrence came into our possession: "I had been through every part of South America except Patagonia,' said Mocquard, on one of those pleasant evenings which I can never forget, "and I was about leaving Rio Janerio when a feeling came over me that I was about leaving the continent with my work uncompleted. True, I knew Patagonia was a very barren, inhospitable region, drenched with the cold dripping winds from both oceans, and with a population, which, in the scale of intelligence, was very close to the Borneo monkey. I knew all this, and that it was not generally considered in the route of pleasure-tourists; and yet, for all that, I could not free myself of the sensation of a man who gets up from his dinner with his appetite only half satisfied; and finally, after I had engaged passage in the European steamer, I drove back to the hotel with the resolve that I should never leave South America until I had crossed Patagonia. "This was a conclusion easy enough for any one to make, but the next thing was to get to that country. I soon found it impossible to secure a guide or companion for any price, and saw that if I made the excursion it would have to be done alone, and so I determined it should be made. I had no trouble in securing a passage to Monte Video, which, you know, is in the lower part of Uruguay. Here, after waiting several weeks, I found a Spanish coasting vessel, which was bound for Santiago, which is the capital of Chile, and is on the Pacific side. For a satisfactory consideration, he agreed to put me off at Cape Blanco, which is about half way down the eastern coast of Patagonia, from which point I was to work my way across into Chile, and thence into the civilized world again, as best I could. "I believe the captain thought me crazy, as one drizzly day he set me off on this rocky shore, where not a human habitation nor a living creature besides myself was to be seen. However, I was in good spirits, and bidding him a cheerful good-by, I slung my rifle over my shoulder, and struck boldly for the interior. "The first night I spent in Patagonia made me vote myself the biggest simpleton that ever lived, for a fine, drizzling rain fell without a moment's intermission until daylight. I was encased in my waterproof suit, but I felt dismal enough. I got under the shadow of some rocks, and smoked my meerschaum until I fell into a doze, which lasted a few hours. However, noon came and passed without catching sight of as much as a wild horse, but through the afternoon I was sure that I heard voices somewhere around me. Sometimes they sounded overhead, sometimes behind, then again in front, and once I gave a start, certain that they came from under the ground where I was walking. 66 All these were indubitable signs that there were people around me, and, well aware of the savage character of the Patagonians, I was constantly on the alert. "I regretted very much that I did not bring a horse from Rio with me, as I would have felt more secure upon his back; but I had omitted this part of my outfit out of deference to the remark of a friend at the hotel, that it was as much as a man could do to keep himself from starving, without having a horse upon his hand. "I took great heed to my footsteps, and endeavored to get further away from the sounds which gave me so much uneasiness, but I found it impossible; for, when I imagined myself beyond hearing, I was startled by the jabbering voices almost at my very elbow. I listened several times to see whether I could catch any words; but there isn't a more villainous lingo on the face of the earth than that spoken by the Patagonians. "Matters went on in this style until finally the crisis was reached. When I least expected it, I found myself within ten feet of a large, smoking fire, around which were gathered a dozen of the most repulsive-looking savages I ever saw. The Hottentots of Africa were not a circumstance to them. "I attempted to withdraw, but it was too late; I was seen, and with a confused chatter, several made a rush for me. I endeavored to look dignified and consequential, and made signs of peace and good-will, but my pantomime was all lost on them. I was rudely hauled up to the fire, jerked first one way and then another, while they grinned, scrutinized and stared at me, as if I were some phenomenon upon which their eyes had never looked. "My rifle did not remain long in my possession. I noticed that they were armed with spears, although they seemed to comprehend the use of my gun. One of the scamps, after looking at it a moment, had the impudence to put the muzzle to my face, and squint along the barrel in the style of a Kentucky rifleman. When I recalled the ounce of lead that was contained in the tube, and that he only needed to raise the hammer to send it through my skull, I felt anything but comfortable. "But I had my revenge. The very miscreant who treated me thus grew more and more inquisitive, and finally got the hammer. Then, fortunately, he took a whim to peep down the barrel, and while so engaged-exactly how I do not understand-something struck the trigger, and the next moment there was one less in the population of Patagonia. "This occurrence at once turned all feelings into that of race toward me. I could see that they looked upon me as directly responsible for his death, and their hideous visages became distorted and tenfold more frightful from passion. They instantly commenced chattering in an excited manner, and several poised their spears as if about to plunge them through my body, but their chief or leader restrained them. He had a sweeter revenge in store. "I don't know whether he had ever heard the story of Mazeppa or not, but it looked as if he had been greatly interested at some time or other in that beautiful legend. "Each of the savages was provided with a fine horse, so that there was one without a claimant, from the death of the one I have mentioned. This was a magnificent animal, without any saddle or bridle except an ornamented band which passed around his head. This horse was brought forward, and with a marvelous dexterity, I was strapped upon his back. "Before doing so, they removed my shoes, hat, coat, vest, and left me with no garment except my pantaloons. I was "When day came at last, there was a heavy fog hanging over stretched flat on my back, with my legs enclosing the horse's neck, the ankles being secured so tightly as to cause me pain. My arms were fastened behind me, and then secured to the horse's tail, so that I could not have been more immovable had I been crucified. "As soon as the barbarians were satisfied that I was secure, the chief gave my horse a prick with his spear, and he bounded away like a shot, they shouting and following. Either the superior speed or the great terror of my horse carried him so far ahead that none besides the chief was able to maintain a position. We quickly left the rest in the rear, although I distinctly remember hearing their shouts gradually growing fainter and fainter, until they finally died out in the distance. "But I couldn't leave the chief behind. He thundered close beside me, utterly indifferent to my agony, and now and then he bent his spear and touched the horse in the flank, which darted away at an increased speed. “No words of mine can depict the horror of that Mazeppalike ride. It is now ten years ago, and to this day I can feel the racking of my limbs when the terrible experience comes up before me. My sufferings were so great that I barely retained my senses. More than once I imagined myself living in the time of the Dark Ages, with the masked tormentors pulling my limbs asunder. "Under such circumstances, I could not estimate the passage of time, but I think it must have been two hours at least that that infernal chief kept his place beside me, inciting my animal to fury by the goading of his spear. He followed me for a long time after it grew dark, when I suddenly missed him. Whether some accident had befallen his horse, or whether he had grown weary of the sport and withdrawn, I could only conjecture; but I was not long discovering his absence. "Left to myself, I was able to collect my thoughts somewhat, and I spoke to the horse. He was exhausted, and he gradually slackened his speed until he came down to a walk, when I began making efforts to free myself. I found I could do nothing with my feet, so I worked at my wrists; but these were too firmly bound, and I was too famished to summon enough strength to break them; but I tugged and groaned, and prayed for strength, until, finally, with a thrill of joy, I felt one of them give. I toiled unremittingly, and at the end of an hour, to my unspeakable joy, found my wrists free. "I soon managed to free my shoulders, and then arose to the sitting position. Another tedious hour was spent before I could free my ankles, but I soon loosed the bands, and sat my horse untrammeled and loosed from my bonds. "But I was shivering, cold and helpless, in a savage country, without any means of helping myself. Great as had been my sufferings, they now became greater. I was obliged to leave my horse and run and jump to keep from perishing with cold. I wandered about until daylight, when, more dead than alive, I found myself along the sea coast. Here I found some fishermen, and throwing myself upon their mercy, I was taken in in and attended. "I remained with them several days, when, by large promises of reward, I induced one of them to take me out to sea in his canoe, to intercept an English vessel, by which means I succeeded in reaching home at last, and since then have made no further explorations into Patagonia." THE EFFECT OF TEA ON THE SKIN.-If you pour a few drops of strong tea on a piece of iron-a knife blade for, instance-the tannate of iron is formed, which is black. If you mix it with iron filings or pulverized iron, you can make a fair article of ink. If you mix it with fresh human blood, it forms, with the iron of the blood, the tannate of iron. Now, when we remember that the liquids which enter the stomach are rapidly absorbed by the veins and absorbents of the stomach, and enter into the circulation, and are thrown out of the system by the skin, respiration, and the kidneys, it is probable that a drink so common as tea, and so abundantly used, will have some effect. Look at the tea-drinkers of Russia, the Chinese, and the old women of America, who have so long continued in the habit of drinking strong teas. Are they not dark-colored and leatherskinned? When young they were fair complexioned. BABY. BABY! dreaming in thy cradle, Silken as the grass's thread, Dimpled cheek, so round and clear, Light as dew on leaf, reposed. White arm, chubby by thy side, May thy future be as pleasant As the dream-life now thou hast, Rounding like that moon's white crescent To a perfect whole at last! Far from thee may gray bats flee, Angels ever bearing thee Swift from all that harms below! May life e'er be sweet as now! BLANCHE'S TRIUMPH. "You will miss it, Blanche; far better would it be for you and me were you to become an old man's darling than a young man's slave.' You know that we are poor, and that grim poverty, like a hungry wolf, is at the door, eagerly awaiting enMr. Fosdick has a fortune that you, as his trance to devour us. wife, could command; while Mr. Earle is but a poor lawyer." "Yes, mamma, I know we are in indigent circumstances. I know that Mr. Fosdick is rich, and William Earle poor; but he has talents that will soon raise him from the position he now occupies. And, surely, mother, you would not barter your child for wealth-would not compel her to make a mockery of marriage, heaven's holy ordinance? force my lips to answer 'Yes,' while the heart responded No? No, I would rather live in poverty and rags, the wife of William Earle, than revel in riches and luxuries, the wife of John Fosdick." "Nay, Blanche, do not speak so hastily. Remember, he comes to-night for your answer; and upon it shall rest our future happiness or misery."' Mother, he has my answer already; it would be vain for him to press it." "Blanche, you will regret this," and, with a majestic stride, Mrs. Beck left the room. Four years ago they had moved in the best circles of society. Mr. Beck was honored and courted by all; but when the panio raged in the city, he became a victim, and lost his fortune that years of hard labor had accumulated. The stroke was too much, and he, in a moment of frenzy, took his own life. His wife and only child, Blanche, were left penniless and alone; but for her talents and her mother's industry they must have starved. Friends who had gathered round them in prosperity, fled from them in adversity. Oh, friendship, how like a little stream that flows calm and unruffled while the sun of prosperity shines, but congeals by the cold, blasting winds of adversity! Thus four years passed, and they barely, by the hardest working, made a living. Blanche was by this time twenty years of age. That she was handsome could not be denied; yet care |