"EVENING STAR" SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT OF ENTERTAINING READING.

Jo. 2-]

AUCKLAND, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1875

[Price : ONE PENNY.

Poetry.

SHE WOULD BE A MA.SO 3

Thi Tory of M« tfehitable Byrde IstheJtory 9^ ho wanted to be a Mason. tor husband, Tom Byrde, a Mason true &S»£r Blue, d Ktaand delivers the summons due ; 'Ami first to disguise her from bonnet and shoon, £?• SSimLons lady a?reed to put on S"JSa ah "forgive me, I me»nt pantaloon, BiilW^-^^onlouJly did thay fit her. The Lodga was at work on the Master's degree ; mv Sjmsd wildly through the room ; !S iXi ? ad fern to le. him g, home ; The devil himself stood up m the east, Stand as an Aldarmw at a feast iiim When in cams Mrs tiyrde. Oh horrible son ids! oh horrible sight! CiiitbathatMMons take delight t « mding thus tha hours of night ? Kad their wives aad daughter, know The unutterable things shey say and do, Sffitoine heart* would barat with woe ! Their lemm^ fa aU my stor^ Those Masons joined i a a hide m rin?. Theoindidates howlin? Lite orerythiag, lid & ton* of death thay sing (The cindidate's name was Morey): "Blood to drink and bona3 to crack, Stalls to smish, aad lives to take. Hearts to crush, and ssals to burn, Rive old Moray anothsr tarn, UTeoiam mike Mm gritn an( j gory » Trembling with horror stood Mrs Byrde, Unable to spaak a single word, , fltaa Btareered and fell in the nearest cbair SffilStt'Of the Junior Warden-there. And swoely noticed, so 1 jud the groans, Ih&tfte chair was mida of kuann b moa, , Of human bones! On grinning sknlls ' That zhastly throne of horror rails, Those skulk, the skulls tnU Morgan bore ; Those bones; the bones that Morgan wore. His sc&lp across the top was flang, His teeth around the arms were strung, Never in all romance was it known Such uses made of humin b one. There time a pause—a pair of paw 3 Beached througa the fljar, tip sliding doors. And grabbed the unh*p?y candidate ! How caul, without te*rs, relate The lo3t and ruined Morey s fate ? She saw him sink in fisr/ hole, ■-. She heaid him scream, "&y sral! my soul !' While roar 3of flan'ti3hJaiih?ter rolled" And drowned tha yella of mercy. "Blood to drink," etc., etc. The ridiculous wotnau conld stand no more, Shefiinted and fell on the checkered floor, 'Midst all ths diabolic*! row. ■- • •' Whit then, you ask me, dil befall MjhUibb Bjrda? Wh/, nathiaij at all— Shi dreamed she had baen in a Muon's hill !

Coming to Woo.

When Aunt Philinda went away the last thing she said to me was : 'I'm going to send somebody down to see you afore long, an' I hope yon'll act like a sensible girl, an' not stand in your own light. He's smart as averidge, an' he's got the best farm I know on anywhere lin our section of country. You couldn't do better."

I hadn't the faintest idea that she would do as she said; but I began to believe that she meant business when I received tiie following letter :

'Dear Niece Mariar: I've told Mr Green about you, an' he's goin' to come down to your place next week. Ido hope you'll like him, for a bebfcer husband never I7ed than he'd maka you. Afore Mehe table—that was his firsi wife —died, he was one of the best perviders I ever see, an' the bad knows he's had to ba sence, for that siater of his'n that keeps house for him is awful wasteful. He's considerable took up with you from my description, an' I know he'll like you. Any body that's smart and capable*, can do well to marry him. The cMlflrett are party behaved, and take after their father. Now don'c think he won't suit yon 'cause he ain't fixed up like a young man, He's worth a dozen young men, fur's property's concerned, an' Mehebable used to Bay he was awful lovin'. Do be a sensible &ri. Mariar, and—and not stand in your own light. From your affectionate aunt, , * • Philinda'.

Wpor goodness sake!' I exclaimed, when pad read the letter through, to Sister ane. 'What shall I do ? Here it's "•onday, and the letter ought to have been here last week. He's likely to happen «ong any time. Such an old fool as Aunt i-hilinda is! The idea of marrying an old widower with half a dozen children,' 'But they're purty behaved, and ' take «ter father,'' said Jane, wiping the tears Mm her eyes, and hardly able to talk worn laughing, 'and he's awful lovin'.' I don't want any of his loving ways round me/ said I, indignantly, ' 1 won't speak to him. She might have known better, I think it a regular insult.' I'll tell you what,' cried Jane, her eyes luminous with a bright idea. ' Let »c pretend that I'm you. I'll be Mariar «M'the time being, and you bo Jane.' What good will it do ?' I asked. -liver so much,' answered she. • Fa ym and mother won't be back for four or we day Si and I can tire him out before that time. I'll be deaf. Won't that be splendid? I won't be able to hear any- Pig lower than a shout.'. \i m ngwable to the plan,' I said.

Ar>d Jane began to make preparations for her wooer. She combed down her hair smoothly on each side of her face, and put on mother's old mohair cap. Then she added spectacles, and arrayed herself in an antiquated old dress. When she had finished her toilet she looked old maidish, I assure you. I laughed till I cried. • It's he, I'll bet,' cried Jane. 'If it is, remember I'm Mariar, and can't hear you unless you talk very loud.' I went to the door and opened it. There stood Mr Green, I assure you. He had on his Sunday best, evidently, and very comical he looked in it, and very uncom fortable he felt, judging from his actions. He was wiping his face with a huge red and yellow handkerchief. ' I'm Mr. Green,' he said, making a bow and introducing himself at the same time. ' I came to ace Miss Mariar Lawton. Be you her ?' ' She's expecting you; she's in the parlour. Come in,' I said, choking with laughter. You'll have to talk a little louder than usual, for she's a trifle deaf.' 'Deaf!' exclaimed Mr. Green. 'Your aunt did not mention that.' By that time we "were at the parlour. Jane was all expectation, and did look: so comical that I thought I should laugh- or die. But I managed ,to keep my face tolerably straight while I introduced them. ' Maria, this is Mr. Green/ shouted I in shrill key, putting my mouth close to her ear. ' A little louder, said she,' aad I shouted ' Mr. Green' an octave higher. , The poor man. looked terribly die-ap pointed. His fanoy had nat painted her in true colours, evidently. ' Ah, yes, Mr. Green,' said Jane, fairly beaming with delight. ' How do you do ?' and she shook the poor gentleman's hand energetically. ' Jane, get Mr. Green a chair. Pat it here by the side of mine, so that he can talk to me. I'm happy to see you, sir. Aunt Philinda spoke of you in very complimentary terms, indeed,' 'I'm glad of that,' said Mr. Green, sinking into the chair. 'Eh ? What did you say ?' said Jane, turning her ear toward him. ' A trifle louder, if you please.' Mr. Green repeated his remark, while I retired to the window to laugh. ' A very fine day,' he added. ' Good crop of hay ? I'm greatly interested in farm matters, Mr. Green.' I 1 said the weather was fine,' corrected Mr. Green. ■' When'll Ibe your?? Why, you're so sudden, Mr. Greej&r exclaimed Jane, pretending to biirih. ' I don't really feel as if I knew you yet. And yet my heart tells me you are an affinity,' and the wicked girl smiled most bewitchingly upon the uneasy man, who looked at me appealingly.j ' I didn't say that !' he shouted. I spoke about the ' Yes, I hope we'll be happy together,' said Jane pensively. 'O, Mr.. Green, if you knew how I have ioijfgjed for the companionship of some hearb like yours these many years,' and then she proceeded to shed unseen tears in her handkerchief. Mr. Green was touched. ' She's awful affeckshunate, ain't she ?' he said to me. ' I wish she wasn't so awfuldeaf. Can't anything bedone for hsr?| ' O you won't mind that, after a little,' said I, cheerfully. 'We don't.' 'I dunno 'bout that,' said Mr. Green, doubtfully. 'We couldn't never have no secrets, 'cause the neighbors 'd hear 'em 'fore she did, if I went to tellin' her any. Don't seem to me 's if I ever see anybody quite so deaf as she is.' ' Talk to me,' said Jane, who had dried her eyes. ' Tell me all about your chil dren. I know I shall take so much com fort with them. Bless their souls.' Thereupon Mr Green began his family history away up in the higher octaves, and I got so nearly deafened at his shout ing that I had to leave the room. I sat down on the back steps and laughed for half an hour. When I stopped 1 could hear him shouting still, though I fancied he was getting hoarse. June kept talking all the afternoon. I never saw any one quite so relieved as he was when I announced that supper was in readiness. Jane fastend herself upon him and accompanied him to the supper table. 'It's such an awful pity about her,' said the poor man, regretfully. ' She's got a, wonderful affeckshunate way, an' she s awful anxious to be Mrs Green; but,' and there Mr Green stopped dubiously, ' I know'd an old woman who was so deaf that when it thundered once, she thought some one was knockia' an' hollered 'come in'; an Bhe didn't begin to ba as deaf as she is, no, not begin. I don't s'pose you'd be willin to settle down on a farm, now, would you ? hopefully. '01 couldn't think of such a thing, 1 answered. ' Mama's the wife for a farmer.^ She takes such an interest in such matters. ' That's a fact,' said Mr Green. I dun no when I've ssen a woman more interested than she is. I swan I'd give twenty-five dollars if 'twould cure her, an' up our way we can get a good cow for that price.' Mr Green had got so usacl to talking to

Jane that he had forgotten that I was not deaf, and shouted the last sentence at me.

' You say you're fond of rice ? Oso am I,' said Jane delightedly. ' Jane,' to me, ' you put some on to cook after supper; we'll have some for breakfast.'

'Don't put yourself out for me,' shouted Mr Green.

' Wish you had some for tea, did you say ? I wish so too.' Jane smiled another tender smile at her suitor, and sipped her tea slowly, smiling at him every time ha looked at her.

'\V here's your folks?' he asked, suddenly, as if he had ju3t thought of them. 'Yes, it is a good plan,' answered Jane, nodding her head appreciatively. ' Geese always ought to wear pokes. If they don't they'll get into the garden and eat every thing up.'

'I asked after your mother .an' father,' shouted Mr. Green, with awful emphasis, and turning red in tha face with, the exertion.

' LBt me see,' said i jane ■ thdughtfaliyi, - ' Henry Bascom'fl brother,? No, i Mr). Green I don't think I ,ev,er knew him.', 'Odear,' groaned Mr. Green. ' She gets deafer and deafer. I can't marry her. What if I wanted to say' anything to her in' the dead of, night? I'd have to wake .the' hull house "up to, make her hear< It's an awful pify, I swan.' Jane kept him shouting at her all evening, under the beaming effulgence of her smile. I never laughed so'lnuoa in my life'be fore. - ,

He catna into the kitchen next morning, where I was busy getting breakfast. ' I'm so hoarse I can hardly talk out loud,' he said, mournfully. ' I like her. She's smart, naturally, an' seems willin', and Wants to get married as bad as any womau I ever see ; bub she's so deaf ! I gaeas I won't stop to breakfast, 'causa it'll only make her set on havin' me, an' I caa't make sach a sacrifice for the sake of anybody. If you'd ouly think favorable 'bout it I'd stay. Ooaldn'c you, now, s'pose ?' with a very tender smile. ' Not for a minute,' said I.

Aad seeiag there was no hops, Mr Green took his departure.

Aunt Phillinda evidently saw through the state of affiirs as reported to her by Mr Green, for she h-i-m'fc been visiting since. I wonder if he's still single ?

A Legend of Captain Kidd's Treasure.

Clarke's island, off the upper end of Pine meadow, was granted by the town to William Clarke in 1688, and confirmed to Eis heirs February 23, 1723. It then contained lOf acres. By the growth of trees and consequent accumulation of soil, it increased to 16 acres. But since the wood was cleared off the freshets have swept away the larger part of the island. Like so many places—possible and impossible—this island was reputed to be one of the spots where Captain Kidd, the pirate, buried a chest of gold. The legend is that Kidd and his men ascended the river—how they got over t!ie three falls with their ponderous load is not stated—till they reached this secluded island. Here, having placed the heavy chest in its hole, they sacrificed by lot one of their number, and laid his body on top of the treasure that his ghost might forever after defend it from all fortune-seekers. Many a man longed for the g®ld, but had not the courage to disturb the ghost. Bat in an evil hour, Abner Field, after consulting a noted conjurer, and ascertaining the exact spot where the chest was buried, resolved ' to tempt the devil on the haunted isle.' Intrusting the secret to two confederates —for nothing could be done without the presence of three —he waited for the propitious time, which was when the full moon was directly overhead at midnight. They were to form a triangle around the designated point, and work in perfect silence—as a word spoken would break the charm ! Having reached the island, and fixed upon the spot, they began. The hard labour and terror of the still midnight, with its imagined dusky sprites, brought out the big drops of perspiration; but they dug wit'a despera tion, for if the cbek should crow the spell would dissolve. J&aising the crow-bar for a mighty strike, down it goes —click! against the iron lid. ' You've hit it!' exclaims one, forgetting the charge of silence. Alas! for that word. The charm is broken; and instantly the chest settles down out of reach ; and as instantly the disturbed ghost appears, flitting around them! And before they can collect their scattered senses, Satan himself—full six feet tall —rises from under the bank, crosses the island ' like a wheel,' going right through a haystack, and plunges into the river with a yell and a splash! Thus was the hope of anxious months blasted ! But the diggers ever after insisted —as they told the story to the eager group gathered of an evening before the blazing fire—that they struck the iron lid, and might have been rich men, but for the unlucky exclama tion, ' You've hit it !' Some were malicious enough to say that the secret of the expedition was betrayed in advanca ; and that Oliver Smith and an accomplice I were on hand to personate the ghost and the evil one,.

A Terrible Moment.

Yes, terrible—that's jusfc what it was, I shall never forget it, even should I live to one of those wondrous ages at times recorded in the papers. Moreover it was not a thing for a man to forget. Many eveats may slip from our mind, but never that moment when we stand on the brink of the grave, brought thither by the probability of an awful death.

It happened in this way. I had been in Australia for about five years, during which time I had amassed a considerable fortune, when I began to long to see the old country again—a desire considerably strengthened by the fact that the girl I loved, and who had consented to be my wife, was going to England, and I could not bear the thought of such an extent of ocean between us ; so I determined to go t too, and let our marriage take place there.

May Brodstone was only daughter of a well-to-do 'squire, and the prettiest and nicest girl for miles round the/station, though, until I had beepme acquainted ,with her, rather f®nd of k. bit .of girlish flirtation. This was the wor^t for me !as it turned out.

Among her many admirers waa one Jacob Kiel. Dark-kaired; dark-eyed, dark-complexioned, he was of that clasS'Of .men. who feel strongly, and ■ wko never forget an injury—like wild-cats, they are nas'tv customers to offend. Well, May, I tear, had'flirted with Jacob Kiel, who, I re'afly believe, loved the very ground she walked on, though she declared—and I know it was .'/true—*tb.at she had never given the slightest &>pe.,:> 1.:.; ■.« t '' It was about 'this time I appeared upon the soene; and she discovered that-she had found the right man, as I had foy.nd the right girl. May Brodstone instantly gave up all her sdmirerS, was as steady and quiet as a gum tree when no wind blows, and finally said the ' Yes' upon which my happiness depended.

Old Mr. Brodstone kaew that the match would be a good one, and readily gave his consent, so that our engagement was soon made public. I was present when the news reached Jacob Kiel. I shall never forget his face. His lips were compressed his dark eyes contracted, ho looked from May to me, and I felt that, if ever he could, he would do me mischief. With out a syllable he quitted the place. A strange sensation ran through me as he departed, and May told me that a shudder ran through her veins.

We did not see much of Kiel after this though we knew he was often about the station upon business; but the man somehow threw a kind of shadow over May,s and my happiness, and we were not at all sorry when we got on board the steamer and steamed off toward Old Eng land. We had not, however, got clear out of sight of land when May, giving a little cry, put; her hand on my arm and slightly nodding her head toward the lowor deck, said: ' Oh. Edward, 100k —ho is here, too !' And so he was. Leaning quietly over the side, viewing the land apparently, was Jacob Kiel—a passenger for England, like ourselves. I will own that I was considerably annoyed, though when May, drawing nearer, exclaimed in a startled voice, ' Edward, dear, I don't know how it is, but I dread that man —I cannot divest my mind of the thought that he means us harm.' I laughed and tried to banish so absurb an idea. And certainly it appeared I had every right to do so. Save by a casual interchange of a few words, Kiel never troubled us ; and we were making a capital journey, when, just as we were within twenty degrees of the line, we were struck by a hurricane, which the captain declared was almost a cyclone in violence. The vessel could not weather it. The masts crashed overboard, taking several of the crew with them, and, before the wreck could be cut adrift, a portion of the broken spars, dashing against the ship, had caused a leak below the water line, and the cry was, ' We are sinking ! Lower the boats—the pumps are useless !' The captain was marvellously firm and cool, and by his example made us all the same.

The boats were rapidly lowered and filled, while, thank heaven, the storm seemed to abate. The women went first, of course, and all was proceeding well, when, just as the last boat was being filled, I remembered that in my hurry I had left my mother's miniature in my chest. There was plenty of time to fetch it, and in a second I> was down in the cabin. Flinging open the lid, my hand was already upon the likeness, when I heard a foot upon the stairs. I turned, and by the dim light swinging from the roof perceived Jacob Kiel. Good Heaven ! The diabolical expres sion upon his face, the fiendish malice in his dark snake-like eyes, revealed his intention in a moment. He had come to do me some bodily harm. Leaping up, I seized my revolver to be on my guard; but an attack was not his purpose. Before I could prevent him, he had quickly closed the oabin door, and locked it 00, tide outside!

Like a flash of lightning all the horrors of my position instantly flashed before me. I was a prisoner in the sinking ship! Uttering a loud shout of fury, I sprang forward; the cry was echoed by a laugh from Jacob Kiel. I heard him say, ' Who will marry May Brodstone now ?' and then his feet went rapidly up the stairs.

I called aloud for help; the uproar of the storm drowned my voice. I paused. Just then the wind lulled, and I heard an order to push off; the speaker was Jacob Kiel. I again shouted in my agony, but my voice aud the wind rose together —I was not heard. I continued to shout like a madman, though I knew that all hope was gone—that I was alone like a trapped rat in a sinking ship ! Furiously I beat the door, all the while painfully conscious that rescue was impossible and death certain, for it was night, and, as no doubfc the storm would separate the boats, my absence would not be discovered until the vessel had foundered.

Could I expect aught else, when in the occasional lull of the hurricane, I heard the rash of the deadly waters in the hold and felt the ship lurch more heavily each moment as she plunged in the trough of the se&jp Suddenly she gave a terrific kpel over, and a wave came rattling down the companion ladder like thunder, rushed under the door, and inundated the cabin. I shrieked in agony, believing that all ifiis over, that I wa3 to die thus, not eren with the chance of battling for life.--

Lfelt that I could meet death firmly if I;-were on deck, with the heavens above B»e; but my very hair stirred at the horrible thought of being buried in the sea as it were in a bos. Was there really no possible means of escape ? I looked round and gave a great cry of joy, then leaped forward, careless now that the water mounted higher and higher. 'Fool! Idiot!' I exclaimed. 'Why did you not think of it beftae ? You are your own murderer!' My eyes had rested upon my rertfr?S£-- In a second I had fired two of its barres into the lock of the door shivering it to pieces, and the next moment I was upon deck—only just in time for the vessel was settling fast. It would have settled long before, but that the storm had abated.

With a wild hope I looked for the boats. Near and far all was alike—darkness hid the waters ; but having succeeded ao far, I resolved not to despair. One by one I dis charged the remaining barrels of my revolver, and then plunged into the sea, to swim as far as I could from the ship before it sank, hoping that I should find some pieces of wreck. I did so before 1 had proceeded far. —a mast with cordage attached. Thj£# helped me, for, afber lashing myself to <^/^ < mast as well as T could, the waves bora." me away. Suddenly, however, a fearfal rush of water seized me. I was drawn rapidly back, and then down, as in a whirl pool—flung, it seemed, here, there and everywhere, after which I remembered no more. When I came to I was in one of the boats with May Brodstone leaning over me. It. appeared that directly morning dawned the boats were called together, and the captain went over the names, when mine was found missing; upon which he had . resolved to row back, and see if he could not fiad me, urged thereto by many of his companions, who wondered—as did not Jacob Kiel—what could have prevented my getting into one of the boats. The sea was nearly calm, the sun shining, and their search was not difficult. They soon perceived a dark object. Approaching it they found it to be myself, clinging like grim death to the wreck, but laughing and yelling like a maniac. In fact, I was mad, and for some time after they managed to get me into the boat I remained so; then I became calmer, though I was delirious for a whole day and night. Directly sensibility returned I told my story, filling every one with horror, especially May Brodstone.

'I see it all!' exclaimed the captain. ' The villain ! Last night our boats separa ted in the darkness ; this morning the one bearing Jacob Kiel and the worst of the crew was missing. He had either steered the boat upon a different track or paid the fellows to desert us, fearful of the punish ment that might have awaited him when he touched the land.'

Whether this was so I do not know, for we never heard of Jacob Kiel again.

That day we were picked up by one of Grreen's ships, homeward bound, and in due time were landed in England, where May and I were married and where we now reside, for my wife will not hear of crossing the ocean again, as she cannot forget— aa indeed I cannot —that most terrible moment; of my life,

A Philadelphia milliner apprentice went to visit her mother in the country last San day, and when that worthy matron beheld her child she exclaimed: • Isabel Marie Stephens, what onrairth do you mean, corn -ing out in broad daylight with your gowii all kajummuxed up in a heap behind ye, gjfd. all bound in that way in front of ya'i' And hain't ye got; no stockings all oi one color, that ye haf to wear them zebra-colourea j things? Thought ye was going to be a mil ! lmer. Sfa'd thiuk ye'd married a barber, and t was playin' up signboard for him. Did X [vever think one of. my girls would come to