Hon. Mrs. Yelverton.

A youfg girl, Eliza HoneycomD, writing from Yoiseniite, gives the lollowing account of the lady whose name, a few years ago, raug through England, and whoso sad story enlisted much sympathy. The young girl save : — ' There was another fine woman here, who stayed in the valley about four months, tier name was Mrs. Yelverfcon.' ' Mrs. Yelverton ?' we all say at once. ' The one who was divorced from lord somebody, and whose case was tried in so many Courts ? ' The same one. She was a-staying here while the thing was being decided, and say what people will, there never was a better nor a smarter woman here than Mrs. Yel verton. She was just heart-broken, but .she was that proud that she wouldn't let on. You see, she was married in Ireland. Lord —well, I forget his name myself; but after they had lived together several years and had a little boy, who died when he wa« a baby, this old scapegrace had gone through all her fortune and his own for racing and gambling debts, and then he tackled a rich woman and got in love, and couldn't marry her nor get her fortune unless he got a di vorce, and he hadn't any grounds, except that as an Englishman his marriage wasn't legal in Ireland. So he goes to prove that he uever had married her, and one time lie meets her in a railway coach, and strangles and beats her to make her give up her marriage certificate to him, and she wouldn't do it, for she said it was all she had to prove she was an honorable wife, and he might kill hor, but he should never take away that piece of paper. Then he goes into thn Courts, and the case is decided in her favour every time, and it is tried times and times, and in every court in reland it was decided she was ale 'al wife. Then the scamp bought the House of I ords, and they decided the marriage illegal, that she never had been married and he married the other women, and is living in grand style in Ireland.

• is wife, Mrs. y'olverton, is now in Russia. She loved the man. I never saw such a devotion; and when the word came that ho wag married, and when the lawyers told her to bring some technicalities to light and assist her rights, she just said, in a kind of tired way : 'I have fought for mv position for three long, long years. Here is my marriage certificate, properly signed and certified ; but it ia worth nothing they say. My husband is taken from me ; his love is gone ; my house is gone ; my child is gone. I have fought long and well for my name and honor ; but I am tired and worn out with dirty lawsuits, and I give up the struggle and sink from sheer exhaustion.' and from that time she just wanders about these mountains like a ghost, but if any one comes she puts on a smile and seems as lively. The way women can put on—they have so much pride. Their own hearts may be breaking, yet they will keep a kind of mask over it. One time she got lost in tho mountains here, and it was- in the winter time and cold. She crawled into a hollow pine, and hold on to her horse's bridle all night, and inado him stay close, for company and shelter, and when morning came she tried to find her way home, and a grizzly bear came along and scared her horse, and he threw her over a precipice, and she fell lown upon the snow a distance of perhaps sixty feet, and some men, riding along tho trail saw tho bear tracks and thn horse-track, and then looked around and saw her lying, bloody and insensible on the snow. She was nearly frozen to death, and they carried hor to the valley, and it was hours before she came to, and she had a long spoil, and was delirious, and they said at the timo she just went over the whole trial and all tho points that had been made, and it would have melted a heart of stone to see the preity young thing lying there in a foreign country, deserted by her husband, and disowned by her family, and yet so loving through it all, and so brave and forgiving to tho man she had promised to honor. She wrote a good deal, and they say a better educated woman, nor one who knows more about science, is not to be found in any country. Kvery one in the valley was sorry when she left, and they all said. ' Ood bless the young English woman !' and she took my hand'and my wife's, and says she, 'I have found such rest from the world and noise and trouble o{ the world in here among these

mountainb. They have calmed me, i can thiofe again. Oh! what friends

Hiese still old granite walls have been. Jie Yosernite valley of America has been the only place in the- world where I have been let alone and allowed to breathe free,' and says she. l i will always Ipve it next to my child's home. I often think of that hymn, ' Pice like a bird to the mountains," say she, and it always seems applicable to me. I did flee like a bird from the destroyer to these hills, and I found peace here. I will do the best I can all through life and leave my future to ' One higher than man." <Oh!' said Mr. Snow, bringing the front legs of the chair to the floor with a force that shook the house. ' when I do see such educated, lovely, beautiful women as Mrs. Yel verton getting their hearts broken by fellows who are not their equal_ in anything, I feel that there is something wrong in this univorse, and that G-od or man, nature or society, has got a curse fastened to it that ought to sound a shriek from every human who has a heart to feel or a head to think.' I inwardly honour this man Snow, and I go up and shake him by the hand, an«l say, ' You are a noble fellow, Mr. Snow, and I honour you; and I am sorry I called you a cross old bear, and I am sorry I stole your book for my ferns, and iam sorry.for everything, and 1 admire you more than anybody for taking the' part of the weak against the strong.' And after we have made up, and everything is all right again, he goes on to his work and J lie down on an old spring lounge, whose eprings are broken or stick through the hair like clothes-pins, and while the girls are talking all around me, my mind goes back to the newspaper reports L read several yoars ago, of the beauti ful Mrs. Yelverton, who was travel ing through America, and whuso name was so prominently before the legal world because of the manly fight she had made in the courts of her native land. Her mind was called extraor dinary, her legal knowledge wonderful, her energy untiring, her accomplish ments varied, her beauty angelic. A.ll ■ merica was dazzled by her wit and attainments, and her diamonds ond family history were discussed with equal freedom by the personal journal ists—those hyenas of the world of letters. Yet this brilliant, fighting, independent woman, wh . flashes like a meteor across our zenith, was shown me here in her refuge, the Yosemite, to bo a heart-broken creature, with feelings just like the rest of us, with tears hidden by smiles, with the heart aches, counted only by herself. How little we know of the inner by the outer life. How often will this story told by Mr. Snow up there in Spray Cottage yesterday, return to my mind, and with what kind and loving feelings will 1 always read the name of. Yelvorton,awoman who wept, and pray ed and suffered, and who still suffers, while her husband —a peer, mind you, a nobleman of the proud oUI British isle—-sits in ancestral hall, and wraps about him a convenient old groat coat of British family pride and family honor, and pushes into the world the woman whose wealth he has squander ed, and takes to hie heart another, whose immense wealth he has his eye

upon

Perfect Blondes.

Income now io a type of blonde beauty which is Iho high-bred Barb of them all. is no taller than the littlo ridiculous and equally well rounded and vitally exuberant, but not in the samo manner associated with laughter. For the purpose of no monclaburo, this type may be styled the nervoua gold blonde. At 18, her gossamer hair is like sheaves of gathered sunbeams, but ib darkens with years, and finally puts on the smouldering swarthiness of gold-bronze. When the light falls athwart its ripples, the gold is visible to the last, but in the shadow it is bronze color, with a dash of gold, always wavy, never curling. Gray eyes, with a pupil that dialatea and contracts with every passing emotion, rendering the eye velvety black sometimes, and sometimes very grey, with the small est possible point of black in the centre, belong by right of inheritance to this type. She has the pyriform face of Dante's Beatrice, and her ears are two pink shells, that one is tompted to cut off and preserve as curiosities. Her features, cut with comeo distinct ness of definition, have an aquiline tinge thal; that is mainly noticeable in the slightest possible prominence of i the nasal bridge. Her complexion is j roses and lilies, her skin of the texture ;of the finest satin. The parietes of the nostrils are thin, mobile, and almost transparent, and when she is

excited, two piak spots, about as large as her finger-tips are visible. Ah. then, beware! Indeed, every aspect of the whole organization indicates brain and nerve\ temper and spirit, rather than softness ; and yet she can pur like a cat when it suits her, or spring like a panther when the occa^ aion calls for it. Pity the unsophisti cated beau who imagines he can flirt with her with impunity ! He is cer tain to be ensnared, bewildered, and laughed at, with such bubbles of rippling and musical laughter as an amused seraph could scarcely imitate, overflowing her firm but femine lips. No rosebud mouth is hws, but one in which beauty and decision meet, each modifying the other. She has hair of golden hue, Take care, beware ! She can make love as well as yon, Take care, beware ! Longfellow says that she has eyes of laughing blue—he means eyes that dance with tantalizing laughter ; but in this the poet commifc«K ; an error of ob servation. T know of-only two women in this city who are the perfection of this type, ivith the beautiful and Highly emot ional gray eyes that pertain to it. One of them is an old lady, who is constantly engaged in ambitious pro jects, and succeeds by splendid tac ticts, while most men of reputedly great abilities would fail. The other is a young woman, with whom an intellectual triumph is of more value than the adultation of her hundreds of admirers ; and yet, if she once gave her mind to it, what a fascinating coquette she could be ! Sensitive, imaginative dazzling, delusive—a brilliant talker, and one who can create semblances of poetic dreams without troubling herself dream them —if you are not impress ionable, an hour's gossip with a women of this type is like sipping an effusion of ambrossia. Her delicate little hand, with its pink nails and rosy finger-tips, is a magneto-electric battery, with five delicately tapering poles. Her complexion is white satin, suffused with pink. Miss Bronte, the author of ' Jane SJyre,' had the forehead and nvnith of the nervous gold-blonde, but her eyes were hazel-grey. Thi3 blonde is "the sweetest and truest wife when her master comes; but woo to the dolt who trys to tame

her !

Warned of a Warning.

If the readci who hat; this pago before his eyei be one of tlioao who will ooliovrj only what tbey understand, of who—because some impostors, pretending to deal wi:h che super natural, have been exposed —treat with ridicule tho idea that spirits can or will interpose in thu a(l«irs of mortals here, belovy, let him skip the whole Article, and go on to the next Fie will hwe a very good dune's worth without it To the more tolerant I would explain that I tell this tale as it w?s told to trio, suppressing rc^l names and altering the souuo, according t> a promise L have maddi 1 will no; attempt) to account for anything The main facts were narrated by a person sane iv mind and strong of body —a man of singularly truthful disposition. L'ho 8l([u«1 I witnessed wi«h nay own eye.?, so you may be quite sure that you will nob come across tiie old familiar ■' dodge' of uiitUing Wonders turn out to be ' tho baseless fabric of a vision.'

la the year 15154, when I first mat Prank Oouroy, lie was a handsome, bravo, siinple ui'.ndud )>oy. Klevou years later I saw him again, flu was a great deal bigger, bub very litte changed. 'I'ho aamo dark brown curly huir with a glint of red in ir, tho sumo laughing blue eyes, tho same almost girlish, smile, tho satno contempt for all that was mem or cruel ; euly h: didn't burst out oy iug now wheu touched by such things. He stood six feet one in his rowing shoes, and I w ul.l just as soon have a mule kiok mo as f.-el tho full weight of his arm. A. gentle giant this Frank Conroy, with fair abilities, good prospects, a happy horn-.', troops of friends, and tho sweetest girl in Virginia living him with all her heart. This was Annie Annesley, the only daughter of a planter whose fortunes had survived the ravages of the civil war and. who lived in a grand old house on the James river, souif; fif ly iniled above Richmond. Her mother had died when she w,j9 a child. Annie was petite, of course, or sho would not b»ve had big Frank at her tiny feet ; and there was a roundness and softness about the lower part of her face, which appeared bo be of the wax doll order until you hid taken iuh^r eyes and brow. I say tak';n in, because th;<y grew Upon you. She was riai a reigning belle, however: Frank snapped her up as soon as she came out — th;it was one reason. IShe did not consider dancing tho German as the end: aud object of existence ; and blio carried too many guvs for the beaux of the period that was another. There were ups and downs, ins and outs, in the character of this pair which f woved the forging of an excellent weld when the great hatnmor-m-.u Love, should p'aee them all aglow on his anvil. At first big Frank was insolent, little Annie ambitious ; he was realistic, she romantic ; he somewhat too easy-going to keen off foes, fj'ne somewhat too given to cynicism to gain friends. In ft »horr, time- thc^ began to rub off each other's angles, and to rill up each other's deficiencies. He was twenty-one and she eighteen, and they were to be married as soon us he had taken his degree

Inall sorts of athletic contests and exer cises he had already graduated with the

highest honors. In public little Annie rather discouraged theae pursuits, but her heart giowod with delight whea the Harvard boat dashed first under the string and Iso. 3, the Captain, was carried oat of it in triumph Shi tore her pretty bee handkerchief into shreds during the drat laps of the three-mile root raca, ..she runner who wore her colors on his "reat having che3t: appeared fifth in the contest. She couldn't bear to see him beaten, and when at last be put on his spurt and went through his men like a rocked, her heart beat faster than hi« own. At the time when this aooouut commences he was in training for another great baat race, and reading hard too ; for your rowing mAn can Da a good baoKvorker if he please- NoV staying on a visit ab the home of your betrothed is both useful and charming-use ful, because it gives you an insight into her character which is not to be gained out in society ; and charming-well, thereto no need to elaborate that cause. Bat it doea not conduce to close study. St. Anthony him s»lf could not keep his eyes on his book when the father of evil took the shape of a pretty woman-to whom, by the way he was not engaged ; so how can you expect that a warm- n parted vounc fellow from Harvard could work fc !£%&-* of his .lady-love ! Why did he not lock L.. -"Enp in his.room ? He did but what was the use ? If she went about singing, as was her wont, he listened, and Plato might reason as he pleased, un attended to. If she was silent, he (bus Fran.*, not Plato) wondered what she was dome;, and Orestes raved in vain. The only chance for work was when she went away from house and grounds visiting some neighbor ; and thin, whpn she knew the consequences, she did as often as she could. Sac was proud of her lover and wanted him to take a good degree These absences generally lasted until lunoheon-time ; but one day she cams down to breakfast in her riding-habit, and cold him she was going to see the Melville?. Seeing trie Melvillos meint a ride, out and home, of two-and-tn-ftnty miles. ' Mayn't Iho wish you?' he asked. ,' No,' sir. You have been shamefully idle Jarely ;' besides, 1 hay« lots of tilings to aay to Jan'ey' (her chief bndemaid elect), ' and you would be in the way. You need not expect to sec me again till dinner,' she replied. .'. ■ Seven o'clock was their usual dimng-time. Frank improved the shining hours - read till noon ; then ho to'k a brink walk till 2 ; then he'read till 5 ; then, like a wise man, he put away his books, and packed up what he had learned into his brain. ; Ifcwas Autumn, when the twilight comes sooni and quickly deepens into night. The .tiro(3 slipped away, as it will do when one's mind is busy, and when Annie came into the room, dressed for the evening, he was quite surprised. ' Back again so soan ! and'dresaed already !' he exclaimed, rising to greet her; but she movel away from him toward the window and stood there, silent, gazing intothe rapidly deepening twilight. .*? Frank, dear,' she said; after a pau*e, ' I want to warn you aboub something.' ■ ' All right'; go on,' he replied, again ad vancing. 'No, do not come near me. Say tvYere you arc*. , J?"> not be- surprised if sonm day you (■«■'■ a lady in your room ' j ' v lady 1' 'Who will be thore,' she contuiuid, not heeding his interruption. ' for no light pur pose. If she should apeak to you, take good heart of what she says, for—for the sake of. her who loves you.' 1 Why not say. ' For my sake.' 1 Well, ttion. for my sake.' ' And who is this mysterious counsellor ?' ' Never mind.' ---' Oh, bafc Ido mind. If the,re i 3 anything I hate it is the ideal of any one coming be tween you and trie. When I have somathibg to say to you I say it mht out, and I want you to do the samo. is this person, a friend ?' ' *V great friend.' 'Then introduce u<?, nnd let us all three talk it over, whatever it is ; or. better still, hear what she haß to siy arjd tell me your-, aelf.' 'We cannot always manage that such things ast!iG3e should come exactly aa we wish,' she ,-inswercd in a low, sal voice* 'No; but don'b you think, Annio, th^u, my receiving a lady in my room is not as good an arrangement as could bo made j' :'i ' I told you not to be surprised if she came. I did not say positively that she would Como.' j 'Iffhodoea como, it will be with your consent.' ' She could not do so without.' ' Then you won't be jealous ?' he asked, with a smile. ' T!v:ro will be no cause for jealousy.' 'You seem to by in a very strange humor to-day, d«ar.' ' Why do you think that ?' 'Your v.iico and manner are changed. Are. you ill, dirlinq ? Is - ' 'Stay where you are,' she agnin interrupted, motioning him back to his snat.. ' This will pass. Lot us say no more ou the subject. Give me your solemn promise that you will not say another word about it—only remem ber.' I ' Well, dear, I think that ia the very best I thing I can do for really—' ' Promise.' ' I promise —there ! And now ' . . ' No, you shall not move. Let me go. T will come dovrn ag.viu in a few minutes. Be a good boy, Frank, and let nic have my ! wny.' He turned round, half .vexed, to pat awty his notes, and when he looked up again she was goao. • ! j HekepVhis promise, and ho had hig re ward. Annie was even more than usually bright and loving all the rest of that even ing. The next day passed as usnal, and on the next but one there was a picnic, which would not have ended as; pleasantly an it begun but for ; big Frank. Returning by the liffhfc of the moon, the .negro coachman (who had taken more champagne heel-tips than conduced to careful driving) managed to put the two off wheVla of th? cftrriace -.vbioh contained tht3 Anncsley party into a ditoh at. n turn in the road where the hm-^es could not yet a straight pull at ifc, and ten mile 3 from home! Frank just lifted the

whole thing oat bodily— AanieTTNl (as he said wi';h one of his cheetlpil * You don't weigh anything.' Th 1 *■ them home, leaving Sambo to r<^ %Nl by a walk. UDe( U • I wonder if Samson was m Uo j, ,1 that you are?' said Aauie, ag h vw her g;ood night, looking up, full o f 1 pride, into his handioms fac« °Te «• • Poor old Samson ! fli 3 g lreac ,. I do him much good, after all' ha 1 r'Jjf < Oh, Frank ! It saved his ccS *4 V he ped him go a glorious cad. \ «.• 7' X ! is nothing \in history so splendid : retribution he worked oa his b B jT fkf crushing them, in the hour of trimmSf ,"^ the temple of their false gods.' "^ ; 'The muff !he should have Sone ;' . I and pushed,' said prosaic Frank s^| When he opened the door' of his found that the lamp was alight, ns^ unusual, for he always bad lit ifc'himiuH There were French wiudows onto ■ I of this chamber opening i n t 0 the ii^l Two faced him as he entered • th^i pair were-hidden by the bed and'if.!! *®w bar. They we»e all wide, own??1*! loved fresh,air, and laughed ooldg'to. 1 It was almost as light as day Th J moon filledsche veranda with it soft s?^® beams, and the dark evergreens below ablaze with fire-flies ; a night which t i! one to do anything but go to bed"-ft took off his coat and boots, made hi . comfortable in the rockingchair filled big pipe with periqae, and thought haiS read a little, as he had passed an idle T As he rose to get hi 3 book he heard ».»«!' tap at the Venetian.blinds outside, f] • moths, blundering after a light, a'a is p wout, make such noises ; so he diclnotnnfi it. After a moment or two it wa3 renaw -louder, and a woman's voice said (fL t come in V ' ' Now, by this time he had forgotten 1 about the vlaifc he might possible Jl*1 but was nob surprised when a lady »?j in without waitiug for an.anßwer. It j not take long to say, ' May I fl.°* yet] as she spoke those words the wholeid his conversation with Auaie ou the da before yesterday came back to his mind. ' ' You are not surprised at this : invasion f asked his visitor. She was apparently abort thirty years of age, tall, slight, andelejaS dressed. A lace-edged handkerchief J loosely knotted round her throat.andin C hand she carried, a common palmetto fa She spoke in that sub-tone of assertion whit a well-bred woman of her age haa generallt acquired without knowing how, and i\tfl folk labor after in vain all their W Grant that a stranger could'adopttola' mode of presenting herself—and had. ; not Annie told him that she might?—and,notlm could, be more natural. "Frank replied that he was not a bit gm. prised, and advanced his best chair, w li ( she; declined. 'JNo, thank?,' she said, leaning, one hind against the side of the window; apace,, uj fanning herself. 'I won't -come: in in farther Do you sit down and^istentqwhii I-have to sa:T. I won't keep you long. Ok you in^y smoke. 1 don't micd,.tliat,jn tii least. But I insist;! I willnosflay a^id nntil you hive made four sood pnfff.- Till H .rjghfc, One—two—thcee^-iouri;-?no% fj Frank bagan to fesl that.h^.nHuiihm kno>vn this !ady for several ye3rg,soeou plotf>ly did she put hiru. at his.ease. , ■ 'Don't you think, 1: she ■continued,-'.Jfttl when a mao is engaged to he'triarriecl,.it ii high timo for him to leave off playing like 1 boy V 1 Oertainly, it is ' 'That's right. All the tanning-mi "rowing and jumping is "well enpnghinit way. It makes boys men, but .itJinsta men just a little bis coarse; &t leapt thai i my view.' .. .., - . •• ' May I ahk if Annie Bbares that op ion ?' . /,.' ' Let us leave her out of this'discssjk, She knows nothing about it.' „ :• ' Ahd yet *he prepared me for this pleasure,' S3id Frank', dryly. 'Never mi id I repeat/ she knows iKi ing about mv present object. IE she_ didi am afraid she would not much assist'^ for she is proud of her gieat athleEe., Jil old enou^li to bo her rao'-he-1, and,' (wißt 1 bright smilu) tarn nob iv love with yon, jo! can talk sense Now, really, what is* thai worth wianiag that you hiva not alrd] won ? Why risk defeat ?' • I am not afraid of that' rial ' The confidence of the man ! Well, II pat it in another way. Why not give jom one else a obauce ? Do you think 'itmm to monopoliz) ail the glory and silvercups You creedv giant!1 This shot went home. Frank desp • pot-buators.' Was he not a pot-hm* himself ? W&tju ' There, I a?e you are coming rouM, a visitor resumed, pursuing her adMf • ' Promiao me that you will slick to yof books, liko a good" boy, take.aspW* degree, and give up rowing, and allthaW of thing, once and forever.' ' , 1 Would it be indiscreet to inquire,;* I have been so fortunate as to enspuewl such a deep interest in my affairs!' - | ' 'Ah! do not be sarcastic. Yon &P tell how it painsme,' she'said. :, ,::'-h-i He looked up, and felt a. power oplß sad pleading which quite subdued huunpii to resent her interferancG.- • _ mk ' I have no rigljt,', «»e -oontinued, »» thi3 promise for myself. " I am npthipgWl but I love Annie—oh !.how i^bSm for her, and this I say, solemnly.-•-»» Conroy, if- your affection, be as deserves it "should be, you would no.t»*¥ Man, man ! What is suocrss'in a'ganiV* you should prefer it to lha ,happw^ 018 woman you love ?' ' Yoii seem in earnest.' 'I am in earnest ' ...'••■ r 1 Well, I'll tßlkit over with &%;}*§§ IThiqk it over by your Sri if first/sad; visitor, I after V pause, during K}J, 'seemed to be struggling -with-sonreW wished t«, add --anti dare not. ''An« ;*[ cannot resolve—as I pray jou ffiSJ"' you can fcpFl her1 what; iiau pafiseq, j»Jf <soofl-by God .bless ami guide yon':^ i -kiaaeil b-ii- band to him and passedotf" . ' the bright moonl'ghfc. ii i ' I ought to have thanked her, anjOT

EVENING STAR SUPPLEMENT, DECEMBER 2, 1876.