he turned and beheld the face of his chief] Th(T vi;jrtK5ied he read a deadly determination in the outlaw's face. Yet it was as usual; his consciousness of being a traitor made him a coward as weU- . T j.i_ i.^. > 'You here, captain —I thought— he stammered. < Hist! make no noise—l do not wish to alarm the servants. Baratta, you are a faithful friend of mine? # You love me —you would serve me if it lay in your power ?' hurriedly added Murieta, drawing closer to his victim., 'I would give up my life to do you a service, captain,' eagerly returned Baratta, believing his fears of having been overheard were groundless. 'You saved my life— it is yours. Tell me what to do, and if man can do it, I will, to show you that I have not for gotten a kindness.' ' Listen, then —no, come closer; I fear there are traitors around us. Now, then—Juan Baratta, traitor, you must die !' __ , As he spoke these words Murieta clutched the traitor by the throat, and brandished a long knife before his eyes. The Mexican did not even struggle to get free. He knew that his treachery was discovered, and so great was bis fear of Joaquin that he never once thought of resistance. * Dog; you whose life I saved almost at the expense of my own —die I' The bright blade swiftly descended, sinking to the very hilt in the traitor's breast. Again and again the blow was repeated: then the quivering corpse was flung to the floor. At that moment a side-door opened, and John Smith entered. He uttered an exclamation of surprise at the bloody sight; but then as Joaquin whirled round to face him the miner dropped a canvas-bag he had held in his hand, and, drawing a revolver, levelled it at the outlaw's head. 'Halt! Now, make a step or tetch ~ -N.^ weapon an' you're dead meat!' he ' What ct& you mean ? demanded Murieta, yet hesitating to attack him while covered by the revolver. * You're Walk-in, I reckon; an' you're the very man I'm lookin' fer.' 'Joaquin or not, if you miss me you're a dead man. I'll cut your heart out the next instant,' coolly added the outlaw. * I ain't the missin' kind. Besides, I've got fri'nds outside. I only need to holler an' they'll bounce ye. So surrender,' 'If I do surrender quietly, will you promise to take me before the sheriff, and not hand me over to the miners ?' 'Yes, because it's doable reward for takin' you alive,' grinned John Smith. 'I surrender, then. There is my knife.' Tfee miner strode forward and extended his hand for the weapon. Joaquin suddenly stooped, and leaping forward, plunged the weapon deep into Smith's side. The miner fell almost without a groan, dead. But as it touched the floor the revolver exploded. A yell from without told that the alarm was given, and Joaquin unbarred the fiont door and sprang out as he heard the heavy tramp by the side entrance. Two seconds later he was leaping the fence of the corral, riding his noble black without bridle or saddle. Then, with a yell, he darted away from the ranche.

And though hot pursuit was made, he soon haffled his enemies in the dark ness. Thus one more wild tale was added on the long list that had already made the name of Joaquin Murieta a wonder and a terror throughout the mines.

THE WAY TO FAIRY LAND.

What's the way to Fairy land? Melts it through the meadow? Leads it where on stiver sand aSrf% Lies a golden shadow? vWhere the Spring, 'neath Maria s hand Shoots to Summer's stature? wh-Vt is youth but Fairy land— , ifai&y land» but Nature? Li\es thy lot by lake or land. StAerest thon by stream or strand, i BtiiV6 at"^ storm shall be at hand On «he way to Fairy land. Is it dewed with morning's Mss, s ' X)imrr*ed with suultghf setting ? ' ■ Eun3 it (through remembered bliss, Lurkri it in forgetting ? 1 ' ■ 'Mid thti mountains' hearing mass Must jD-divo to find it, Where thi? gnomes beneath the grass & ■ ■'■■ Gather girta and grind it ? Be thy burden blessed or banned, Galn'st thou gold from sea or land, Woe and want will warders stand On the way to Fairy land. I hare worn both want and woe, . ■ . ■ Yet they lead not thither Must I grope no more, but go •! Flying up through Ether? Love will lend me wings to rove Through the orbed Seven— What is Fairy land, but Love— What is Love, but Heaven? Fly thou far by fancy fanned, ; Br'oakest thou both bolt and band, jDeath will grasp thee by the hand Ere thou flndest Fairy land. hi, , '■: 'What's the way to Fairy-land? ' Jfot by Star, or Stream, or Strand. Close ontt finger of thy hand, M* 'WU <>WW on Fairy Und,

Against His Will.

'John Wentworth, you are the most unmitigated fool, I am—Why, what's the matter, John ?' „ 'You are right, Belle; I confess it. You are welcome to abuse me. I deserve it all.' 'Now, I am afraid you feel bad. I didn't mean—l' , . ' Yes, I know; I am a fool, Belle; a poor, unbefriended fool—a regular good for-nothing, and I wish I were dead—l do, indeed.' «O, indeed! Now lam out of patience, I declare! You are the worst man! And you have the audacity to wish you were dead, after telling me you loved me. I don't believe a word now that you hare said of your love for me !' 'I do love you dearly; it is that makes me so despondent. I can't see what is in store for our future.' ' It is because you love me that you wish yourself dead !' ' It is hard to bear your ridicule. 'I fear it is, John, but I can't help it. Do you believe I love you any, John ?' ' I dare not hope it, Belle. I know I am unworthy.' ' I do love you dearly, but I am very angry with you. If I were a young man, and loved a nice young girl (ahem) that didn't altogether dislike me, I don't think I'd spend my time wishing I were dead and out of the way and making her unhappy. I think I'd bestir myself and earn some money, and build a nice little cottage, and ask that nice young girl to come md take care of it for me. Now I'll wish you good morning, Mr. Wentworth. My aunt says ' Work in the day time, play at night,' and if you'll go and do your duty among those musty old law books with uncle, maybe I'll take a walk with you this evening. Poor old fellow! I fear it's melancholy Jacques himself come to life.' Judge Orville's homo is pleasantly situated in a retired part of the city. It had been his pleasure to undertake the education of John Wentworth, and, some years before, lie had come to reside with the judge and read law witli him. His studies were completed and John was half crazy with business and love, and, being tired out from over-study and anxiety, he was very despondent over his future with Belle. Ho thought he now never should he situated so as to have a right to ask for her hand. John was a handsome man, of prepos sessing manners, talented and industrious, bold and energetic in his business deal ings with the world, but in his relations toward Belle very fearful and despondent. Belle was the judge's favorite niece. 1 and he, a childless widower, petted her to her heart's content, and listened to her when she told him of her flirtations with he young students. Miss Amanda, the judge's sister, was his housekeeper, and as good a soul as ever lived. To her Belle went with her forehead puckered up and her lipa gathered up into a point. Aunt Amy was seeding raisins, sitting in a low rocker, the picture of content ment. ' Well, dear, and what is the matter to-day P Is John unruly, as usual P'

' Unruly P Aunt, that 13 no name for it. But I put a flea in his ear !' ' I hope you did not quarrel with him.' 'Quarrel! Why, auntie dear, he hasn't the courage to quarrel. He wouldn't dare to knock a man down if ho insulted him?'

' Don't be hard on him Belle, every one hasn't your energy and fire. John lacks no persistence or determination in any other pursuit. You know very well, Belle, with what indomitable will he has pressed on, and now, with the world before him, he despairs of gaining the hand of a silly girl, and is despondent, Do you think you love him, dear ?' ' I feel pretty sure of it, auntie, but I have to do all the courting ; upon my word I do. Uncle may tell me its all right; maybe it is, and maybe, some day, John will remind me of my unmaidenly conduct. Uncle talks of making repara tion to his father for something through me. I don't think it a very good way to force a wife upon him he evidently doesn'b want.' Belle laughed a little, low laugh all to herself, for well she knew how devotedly he loved her. Judge Orvi'le had smiled when Belle confided to him that she thought John a pretty good fellow, and told her it would gladden his heart very much to see her married to so good a man.

So things might have gone smoothly, and for once the course of true love have run smooth, had John been an ordinary young man, with plenty of daring and little modesty, for he had everything in his favor; but be was an extraordinary younsj man, of uncommon ability, and blessed with a big, manly heart that took Belle in and enshrined her from the very moment when she passed between him and Chetty in her fresh white muslin and pink ribbons; but his excessive modesty and his great admiration of Belle made him believe she.never would deign to think of him. How he would have ever dared to disclose his l®ve he did not know, but Belle was an artful little witch and drove him to it.

The evening came and Belle came into the library apparelled for her walk. John was there alone, moody and silent.

'Good evening, Sir Owl, it's getting dark —time for birds of your family to be out for iheir airing.' * I &id not exp&ct you, Belle, I liad

made up my mind to spend the evening with Johnson.'

' So you prefer an old dry musty fellow like him to me—very well, then I will not go.' 'O, yes, do go, I shall be very disappointed.' ' Then why don't you get ready ?' ' I will—l will; lam so confused—ah ! here's my hat. Where would you like to go ?'! • Where P Will you take me where I wish to go P' ' Certainly.' ' Well, then,ldesire to go toß—— street and be introduced to Mrs. John Went worth, Sir.' John blushed. His mother's poverty was one of his daily griefs. That he should sit at a rich man's table and eat of costly food while she lived in a plain and humble style, cost him many heart-pangs. Then, too, came the thought that Belle, reared in luxury, might despise his humbler home and his quiet mother. That mother was very dear to him. For her he would have made almost any sacrifice. What would he ever do were Belle to dislike her P In his surprise he was dismayed, and faltered: • It is a long distance to B street; will it not weary you ?' 'No, sir; I have frequently walked' farther. Will you take me?' ' Miss Belle, my mother —perhaps you are not aware —' 'O ! yes, lam quite prepared to meet her. My uncle has so often told me of her lovliness and amiability I so much want to meet her. It is just what I most need —some refining influence.' ' Miss Belle, has any one told you. that to-morrow is—' ' My birthday ? I'm eighteen years old, my own mistress. I think you ought to give me a birthday present, John.' ' Don't you know how happy it would make me to do so P But of what use would my thinking of it be; what could poor John Wentworth, just admitted to the bar, and having yet to see his first client, ha^e to give that would be worthy of Belle Orville's acceptance P' • There it is again! All my instructions seem useless. How often must I assure you that Belle Orville is a true republican, sir P Yes, sir, every bit; and if I were you, John, I'd find something to give, if it were not worth more than five cents. Do you know, I would value even' (speak ing more gently) ' a pebble that was given me by' (his heart gave a great leap,) ' any one I lov«jd.'

• If I dared, I would give you the only treasure I possess.' 1 What is it ? Tell me, and if I think it worth it, I will back you up John, I will, upon my word, and make you dare. I think you'll need a * second' like me if you attempt any such enterprise. Why are you going to stop here ? Is this B— — street so soon ? What a pretty house! Is this where your mother lives P 0 ! yes, and there she is. I was sure it was Mrs. Wentworth. I'm so glad to meet you. Why, where's John? He should be on hand to intro duce roe. I'm Belle Orville.' John had remained to latch the gate, and Belle, seeing the kind mother at the door, had gone forward and introduced herself. 'Don't tell me I'm in the way and spoiling the nice visit you might have had with John. If you do I'll tell on him; I'll tell him that you would have had no visit but for me.' Belle's face grew a. shade more serious as she noticed John's evident disapproval of this statement, so she mended it by saying: ' John thought it was too long a walk for me, but, dear me, I have walked five times as far many and many a time.' John's face by this time had begun to assume even more than its accustomed serenity, Belle's vivacity brought the smiles in quick succession into his mother's pale face, and, involuntarily, he pictured those same neat rooms, adorned by Belle's charming presence, and then he wished he had had the courage to ask her to dare poverty with him. He had no doubt of her love for him ; he knew very well, when he was not tormen ted,by his demon of melancholy, that her rallying was only a blanket for the affec tion soe felt for him. Now, when he saw how happy they all were together, he felt strong enough to say, • Come to me, my Belle, I caii take care of you. You must live humbly for a time, 'tis true, but the time is not far distant when my energies shall earn a haniisome home for you.' Belle spied a little conservatory and a good excuse, and rah there to leave John alone with his rnother.\ The distance was not great between th^m, the doorway only covered by a curtain. Occasional sentences drifted to her. heard Mrs Wentworth say: \ • Have you spoken to laer, my, son ?' and heard John's reply: r Mother, she knows I love her; but I canvnever, wirile I occupy my present positiortrttsk for a wealthy bride. I could never feel any self-respect again.' . \ By-and-by, she heard the mother's voice again: \ ' Have you told her to-morrow is your\ last day in the East P' ' No, mother, I attempted to, but I have been so blue that she has assumed that laughing, bantering manner, and I have been unable to do so. I ahall write her a note, I think, before I start for the West.'

John was going West to make his fortune. Then he was energetic and ambitious, after all, and going without asking her! Belle was confounded. That a mm of John's stump should b©

afraid of her simply because she had lived in opulence. What a shame! Tears, genuine tears, filled her eyes shortly afterward when she heard him say: 'You will bear the parting bravely, mother, dear ? You know it is for her I go. When I can feel authorised to do so I shall come back for you and Belle. I am certain she will wait for me, though I never say a word to her. She is as faithful as she is good.'

Had not Belle been a consummate actress she could not have appeared natural when she re-joined the two in the little parlor. She proposed their immedi ate return. The mother took her hand and said :

'God bless you, little darling, may your life be very happy. Come and see me often. I fear I may soon be very lonely.' During their walk home John was extremely silent. Not all Belle's gaiety could call forth a smile. At length she exclaimed:

• Well, if it makes you so gloomy to visit your mother, I do not wonder you do not want to go. Was your mother scolding you while I was in the conserva tory ?' ' Don't speak so, please.' ' Well, I won't again. Here we are at home, and I'll not say another word to you to-night. Good-night, and don't forget my present in the morning.' The next morning John handed her a handsome bouquet, giving her at the same time the compliments of the diy. Belle laughed, and said: ' You are a good boy to do as you are bid. I shall always keep these flowers—even when they are withered ai>d dead —as a me mento of my dear friend. But you look unusually sombre this morning. Is there anything I can do for you P' 'Yes. Come with me to the old seat under the elm.' ' I will. Wait until I put my flowers in water.' She went to her room, and in putting her flowers in water, found hidden among them a little box, which she opened eagerly. It contained a lovely pearl ring. She put it on delightedly, and ran down to thank him for the gift. He accepted her thanks with a quiet smile, very different from the tumult that was raging in his breast. They soon found their private seat, and Beße ran about like a freed chilu gather ing leaves to crown him with. But her animation was in vain. The smiles did not come as usual in answer to her winning wayß. Presently he said: 'Dear Belle, come and sit by me here on this mossy bank, and I will tell you something you have never heard. Once there was a youth who loved a star. The star was set high above his reach. He longed for that star with an intense desire, and his heart bled when he thought of the distance between them. He prayed that the star would come down to him, and, as he prayed, he saw the star bending down and felt that it was losing its home in the heavens. Then some one whispered to him. * You are destroying the beautiful star. If you take it from its natural sphere, it will perish.' So the young man who loved the star said he would rather die himself than that the star should wane less bright and so, to save the life of the star, he let it go back into the heavens ; his heart bled; he had not even touched it; he would have given his soul for one kiss, but he had not even that. Little girl, your lover has not so much hardihood. He is about leaving you to go to a far distant city, but, unlike the other youth, he craves one thing. Belle, my love, will you kiss me before I go ?' The tears had gathered in her eyes. She came to him and threw her arms impulsively about his neck, saying : * If the youth had suffered, the star to come to him he might have enjoyed its radiance almost for ever. I will lews' you, John, and then you are always mine. You will not go away from me ?' ' It is for your sake.' 'But if I bid you stay P' ' I must be firm.' ' You must go ?' ' I must; it is right.' She stood before him, her eyes flashing. 'Then, John, you hava been deceiving me. You do not love me; you have never loved me! lam glad you are going, and hope it may be soon. There is the ring that pleased me so much. I return it to you.' J He was so amazed at this burst of passion that he had not recovered before he saw her garments disappearing through the shrubbery in the judge's garden. In vain he chid himself, in vain he assured himself she was not aag'-y with him. There in his hand the pure gold pearl was lying, that he had seen but a few brief minutes on her pretty hand. She was gone! There was nothing left for him but to go, too. He could not bear another meeting, for that would oblige another separation. Belle was not so frightened. She knew of a good adviser, and went to him \at once. To this judge she told of her Eavesdropping of the previous evening, of tl!\e star story and all. To her surprise, thte judge knew all about the intended departure: he said he had not been ask/ed to interfere or he would certainly havle done so. ■ i TJie judge was a very powerful advocate. He John into acknowledging that/he was guihy of the basest ingrati tudevra leaving him, and the upshot of the]interview wag that he wqeptecl a

position as an assistant of the judges salary so good that it infused hjja ,^l sufficient courage to accept of Belle fo wife. Belle always said that Jphn'jier wanted her very much, bat he tHfeJ-! ungrateful to refuse even a poor pZjL? and accepted her under protest. ' ' It was the evening of a beautiful %» The firmament was brilliant with golden studding. Belle stood leimWm her husband's arm and adnwrimAk beauty of the night. m ' John, dearest,' she said, c <fo ... think the stars shine as brightly, after W become familiar with them?' -Dbeiyon! ' bright, particular star' seem toihed,B» radiance now you have caught it Out <rf heaven ?' ■ ■~. -. He answered: ' You are a sandy jM and deserve punishment, which'Btojf k to listen to a story I shall tell y<T There was once a youth who was tf fi«L. student of astronomy. His devotion to the science was very great, until \&< $ one time was guilty of making a ngjj mistake. He thought he had discoreredi new star, and when it proved to.be » mistake his devotion gradually wttei' •What was it, John P' ' 'Nothing but a fire-balloon, sent np fromaG-erman beer-garden. Since thw the student of astronomy has been a—' 'A devout fire worshipper— eh^Jihip Well, that is quite a satisfactory fending,1

Varieties.

They were husband and wife, and at they stood before the Soldier's Monument she asked: 'What's that figgefio^a^the top?' 'That's a goddess,' he ; answere4 ' And what's a goddess P' 'A. woman'who holds her tongue,' he replied. She looked side ways at him and began planning to make a peach pie with the pits in it for the benefit of his sore tooth, r- The St. Joe 'Herald' would publiak thj young lady's poem if it could possibly make ' rhinoceros' rhyme with ,' Queea Elizabeth,' or ' gazelle' with;'wagbinj machine;' bat it can't—not even by-tto wildest process of; versification, >, if ] Fbeckles.—Freckles are : , flofc-eagllj washed out of those who have a florid complexion and are much in the sunshine, but the; following washes areinot onlj harmless but very much the best of any. thing we know: .Grate hprse-radislt fine; let it stand a few hours ia butter milk, then strain, and use the wash night and morning. Or squeeze the, juice of a lemon into half a goblet of water, and use the same way. Most of the remediei.&r freckles aie poisonous and cannot be used with safety. Freckles indicate, ;a defect in digestion and consists in deposits of some carbonaceous or fatty matter beneath the scarf-skin. The diet should bs attended to and should be of a Batuw that the bowels and kidneys will do.'tteir duty./ Daily bathing, with much friction, should not be neglected and the Turkuk bath taken occasionally, if convenient ' Herald of Health.' A citizen of Vicksburg who wanted a few hours work done, and accosted a colored mil and inquired if he would like a job. Tel like to do it bat I haven't time,' wm the answer. ' Why, you don't seeni to be doing anything.' 'I*don't eh! Well? now*;l'm gwine fishin' to-day. To-morrow I'm gwine ober the ribber. Next day I'ze got to git my boots fixed. Next day Tze gwine to mend the table, and de Lawd knows how I'a to git frew de week unless Ihireamaato help me!' When a boy has been off all day, oontrHf to the expressed wish of his mother, and « approaching the homestead at night witbu anxious and cautious tread, finds company it tea, the expression of confidenceand rectitttß which suddenly lights up his face cannot b» reproduced on canvas. On the walk a hat did lie And a gallua chap sailed by, And he cut a lively swell— " * fie was clerk to a Hotel; - And he gave chat hat a kick, ', ■ And he came across a brick— ■'. , Now upon a crutch he ROM, Minns half a pound of taw. >i\& ' Has anybody ever explained why a yang man who is going to be married inv*fl»i»J casts a gloom > over the occasion by b*vi«i; his hair cut, and short 2 'Won't you cut open a penny,forJW father ?' said a little, girl, when she cim» home from school one day. * Cat op« » penny ! What do you want me to do ta»S for V asked her father. ' Cause,' s»a "• little girl, 'our teacher says that in eW penny there are four farthings, arid I w*1"" see them.' ■<'(■ "''"- '~ 'And that's a blessed baby,' wbww 1 one woman to another in a streetjCM y*F, day. 'Yes he is, but he's dreadfnlj«wi^ :' Ailing ?' ' Wuss nur ailing-^be ■. ft«" sick. He began at 8 o'clock laßtnig^*" for thirty-four hours by the cleck, or bj jusb at daybreak, I had to trot him Oil .J knee and keep singing : Yam-yanl-n«» dum.' " ■ i, When a Nevada photographer w^J make a good picture, he puts tn* B**^i, his place, palls ouc a navy revolver, <^| it, levels it at the man's head,i»nl »ps. 'Sow jist you sit perfectly atill»4^j move a hair; put on a calm, BP^ffU preßsion of countenance, and l^kßg"' *V j the muzzle of this revolver, or FllbW* top of your head off. My repuUoOT,"^ artist is at stake, and I don't wwtW^ sense about this picture.' V- Stumbling into his roona hei «m • the edge of the bed, and soliloqaizedw^ "Feet wet, tight boots, a sore con^Tj, an' a felon on t'other, and no WVrgfc-i z'house. S'ingsgottobedifrent^^. mus' get married, else get-*jW<? #™ whishalll do V JP.

Printed and published by the propieto^,?^ McCullagh Keed, of St George's Bay,. Brett, of Parnell, at their General st**K£ffi« Office, Wyndham-street, In the GUymir I*^ Neur Zealand:—.-.,... <,««.■ •' Saturday, B«wm»wMi Ww

Evening Stay gkippleme«it a December 11» 18yg.