The Mistake of an Evening.

I think you said-—' There was a startled look on the^plefcsant face of the : much enduring waitress, s$ she bent a little lower ; and certainly the order which she had received,' Miss Sylvester and dipped toast,' was rather a novel one.. ' I don't think I understood you, sir,' 'I beg your pardon.' said Phillip Van .Dome, coming back to the contemplation of. hia supper, with a sudden .start, and blushing like a schoolboy, as he became conscious of his mistake ; and then, as the relieved damsel sped away, her evident fears as to his lapse from sanity being quieted by a less difficult order, he glanced again at the distant table where sat the three person ages whose advent had so suprised and, as it appears j'disconcerted him. Two ladies and s gentleman; -one lady tall, pale and dark-eyed, with a wonder ful crown of pale gold hair ; the other a mere child in appearance with a round, piquant, peach blossom face, wide bluo eyes, and fair hair cut close and curling around her forehead in little babyish rings ;' the gentleman a rather grave look ing but decidedly handsome man, with no peculiarity of look or demeanor that would justify Phillip Van Dome in starting at him in such a decidedly vindictive and unprepossessing way. He watched them furtively until they rose to depart; but as they passed by he was to all appearance entirely absorbed in the roll with which he had been trifling for the last half hour, and did not raise his eyes. They noticed him however, for the younger lady laid her hand suddenly on her companion's arm. ' Look Rose,' she whispered;' there's Phil Van Dome.' And Rose, after one glance, passed on, with her gold-crowned head held a little higher, and her face a little paler than before. Two minutes later Phillip Van Dome was in the office, hastily running the list of the new arrivals at the Kiarsarge House. Yes, here it was at last; 'Mr. and Mrs. Colchester, Miss Sylvester, New York;" and although he had felt sure of ft from the first, the sight of her changed named affected him as he had believed nothing could have done. ' Joe was right after all,' he said bitterly, as he turned away. ' Odd that I should meet them on their wedding journey, though.' Very soon he found himself face to face with a gentleman with a lady on either arm.

1 Mr. Van Dome —how unexpected, and how pleasant!' It was a woo white hand which was extended to him, and he took it mechapically in his. ' Thank you,' he said, his eyes wander ing to the tall, lissome figure beside her. 'I hardly thought to meet you hero. Emmie.'

1 The old pet name came almost uncon sciously—Emmie had always been a favorite of his in the old days—and then Eose returned his low bow without removing her hand from the sieevo where it rested.

'6, and I beg your pardon—Mr. Colchester —Mr. Van Dome. I believe you have met before, though ?' 'Yes,' answered Philip, grimly; ' once or twice only, I think.' Emmie, with a little laugh, slipped her pretty hand through his arm. •Hose, you and Eoger lead the way. We will 'follow.' And Philip, finding himself taken possession of, resigned himself to his fate. After all it was better to face it bravely than to run awaj ; so, with Emmie on his arm, he joined the promenaders on the wide verandah. All the long evening he watched that face—that proud, pale face, which had once been to him the only face in all the world. And when at last he sat alone trying, for once unavailingly, to find solace in a cigar, that pale, proud face seemed still before him.

How he had loved that woman ! how dear she had been to him in the old days ! Yet how little had seperated them; A hasty word, a scornful reply, and it was all over.

He had been greatly to blame. He felt it now keenly; but she had been impa tient of interferance, and obstinate, in her pretty, girlish way —and so at last — 'Ah me! said Phil, tossing his cigar away as he rose, 'to think that I should meet her here on her wedding journey, not two years afterward. TbUre were grounds for jealousy of Colchester, after all; although I don't think she is madly in love with him. Perhaps that stately, dignified style suits him, though.' He thought gloomily of the time when, that gold crowned head rested lightly on his shoulder, in her charming fits of penitence for some misdoing, when those eyes had looked up to him as they locked at no one else, when those lips—

.' Confound it all!' he said, wrathfully, ' I shall make a fool of myself"if Igoon in way. I'etter leave quietly to-morrow— tike the early train, and leave a note of adieux to Emmie.' But fate ordered it otherwise; for, as he went in to his early breakfast, a nod from a curly head, and a wave from a pretty hand, brought him to a seat beside Emmie herself.

1 We only stay here to day, you see.' explained tha little lady, after the morn ing greetings were interchanged, ' and we want to make the most of it. Therefore tnis early breakfast;' and Kose smiled across at her sister in a manner so suggestive of the bright, winsome Rose he used to know,: that Phil felt bound to assert to himself'that he was in no danger 'of' making a fool of himself bver another,

man's wife 7 Better face it out,';he thought. ' It's only to-day any way, and if I go it will look as though—'as though he had not forgotten old times as completely as desirable, he was afraid. Thus deciding, ha talked and laughed with Emmie, and was so generally agreeable that even Roger, Colchester unbent a little and the pale face opposite grew interested and appreciative.. . . After breakfast they strolled around after the usual fashion of North Conway visitants, and Philip, having nothing else to do, strolled with them: but although he strove to seem at ease with Hose, he felt that he failed miserably, and gladly; turned to Emmie for relief. She, at least was unchanged, just the same childish, winsome Emmie as of old, whom he had been used to pet and tease; and she had not outgrown her old liking for him, either —that was evident, for she showed it frankly. So he strolled along beside her, and pointed out the beauties of' Minerva's Head,' the shadawy ' Indian Maiden,'and the famed , White Horse,' which, with upraised head and flying mane and tail, seems ever galloping madly away from North Conway and sight-seers in general, but ever remains there, one of the 'lions' (pardon the anomaly) of the place. After dinner there was a ride proposed. 'Would he go ?' Emmie asked; there was 'just room for four.' He went. ( Riding backward made Emmie ill., ' Would Eose mind?' 'No, Rose wouldn't;' and before Philip realized it Rose was sitting beside him: The silken folds of her dress swept against him ; and once as the carriage swayed heavily, her gloved hand rested on his arm with a swift, light pressure, which made his heart throb: strangely. , ' I beg your, pardon, she said ; and, looking up, her eyes met his for a momenj; only" a moment;' bub as she turned, away a sudden wave of crimson swepli . ■ _ i <•„,.«

over her iace. ~.■ ~ . j 'She has not forgotten) then, he thought, grimly, glancing at the two opposite. , ~; i-; j -;.,,i , { ,. j Roger Colchester was,, to appearance: unconscions of the little by-play; but Emmie's blue eyes were a trifle wider than usual, and she was looking at Rose with a sudden surprised curiosity on her face. . ■ All that afternooa Philip was , invisible. Taking a full cigar-case as a companion, he set himself resolutely to the task of walking off tae new depression and unrest which had come,to him. j

' 1 won't see her again,' he said. 'They go early to,morrow, and I'll keep away from them;' and, pursuant to this plan, he was one of the latest arrivals at the supper-table, and ate in stately solitude. When, however, he went out on the piazza a little later, and, looking through the windows, saw them sitting in the great parlor, he could not resist the temptation to join them. ' After all,' he said. ( 'It is only to-night, after which she will, go out of my life entirely.' So he sauntered in, his lazily graceful way, and took the vacant seat boside Emmie.

' Ha,vo you been dancing P' he asked. Emmie answered, with a little sigh of regret,' No' only twice. Itoger doesn't care for it, and there is no one else.'

'Take pity on me, then. lam partnerless. , May IP—for the Lanciers?' The next moment, with Emmie's hand on his arm, be joined the dancers, and went through the figures' unexceptionably', as Emmie declared ; and then stood beside her, laughing and talking lightly when the dance was over and she had resumed her seat.

' Listen !' she said, as the music began againi ' How odd for them to play that —the saddest of all sad things —it is the 'Last Waltz of the Madman.' Eose.'

Philip hesitated for a moment. Why should he not P She could but ro(use; and it wpuld be the. last time. Ho turned towards her with a look almost of entreaty on his handsome face. 'Will you?' he said—' will you, Rose ?' He had never once called her by her now name—he could not —and the old name came so thoughtlessly. ' I beg your pardon,' he said, gravely. Without reply, she rose and laid her hand on his arm.

Thai watlz —could he ever forget it ?-r ---with that gold, crowned head almost resting on his shoulder—with that beautiful face so close to his own. For this brief space she was his. At last it came to him. suddenly and sharply that not one particle of the old love had died out, in spite.of all his struggles and the mantle of grim cynicism in which he had striven to envelope his better self; that Roger Colchester's wife a3 she was, she was dearer to him than any other woman ever was,, or over could be.

' You are tired,' he said, sharply, seeing the. sudden pallor of her face as she looked up, wondering at his long silence. 'Why did you not tell me?'

i' It is so beautiful, she said, almost in a whisper—' and so sad, ,Is it not heart breaking?' There were tears in the great dark eyes as she turned her head away ; but Philip, looking down at her answered not a word.

' How white you are, Rose !' exclaimed Emmie, as they came back to her.' You should not have danced so long. Why did you let her ?'— a little sharply --look ing up at Phillip. But lioae answered quietly that it; was nothing, she was only a little tired, and she had waltzed for so long, so very long. She glanced at Phillip; and he, meeting her,eyes, thought of their last traltz together in the old days. 'The mnsic is over for.to-night,' said Emmie gathering lier light; ctaik ftbo'tt.

her.' "'Early'hours seem to.be the;rule at the Jftarsarge,' for the piazza is desert ed. It is lovely out there ip the moon light.^ Come !' And slipping her hand through Roger Colchester's arm she led the way, ' We're going to walk to the •Pagoda,' she proclaimed after a few minutes,;lookingback over her. shoulder*. ' One wouldn't think it a prosaic depot by moo'ilight. Yon1 don't mind our leav ing for a short time, Rose, as ydii are too tired to go, do you? We'll be back directly,' the next moment Rose and Phillip were left alone together for the first time.

There was a moment of embarrassing silence as the,two disappeared down the wide plank walk; and then'Phillip began to talk: rapidly ". concerning the scenery, arid especially old Eiarsarge as appearing by moonlight, the 'cloud-effects' of the previous day, etc., until he saw the shimmering gleam of Emmie's dress in distance, and knew she was returning. Then he turned to the woman beside him, with a sudden and entire change of man ner, 'As you and I go our different ways to-morrow,'he said,' I will bid you good, by tonight; but before I go, I must say one thing which, perhaps, I ought not to say now, but which I ought to have said long ago. If in old days, I was domineer ing and exacting—as I was —I most sin cerely beg your pardon. We did not part friends —let us now and! wish you every happiness, Mrs. Colchester.' She was standing' beside him, a fleecy shawl veiling her head and shoulders, her face turned away from him, her dark eyes looking up at the far-away crowu of Kiar sarge; but as he spoke'the last word,' she' turned1 quipkly, a vivid blush sweeping1 across her face, and looking up at him with a great wonderment in her wide eves- , .-. ■' :". 'I was in fault, too,' she said, after a little pause, heir voice trembling strangelyi '1 have regretted it bitterly since—more than you can know,!—and. I—Philip !'—• how could you think it'?—l am not Mrs; Colchester, j I thought you knew—it is Emmie.' .

Very soon", after Emmie, returning with her husband was electrified-by the =iight of Rose—with her, head pillowed ott Philip Van Dopne's broad shoulder, Philip's strong arm around her, snd her beautiful face, no longer pale, but suspi ciously rosy, looking up at him in a way which told of happiness and peace at last.

' It is all very well to go seeking one's fortune in foreign lands, Rose,' said Philip to his wife, a few months after ward,' but I don't believe in it. I founsj my fortune (after a long search, thongb, I must confess) nearer home.' : ' "Where ?' asked Rose, looking up at him, with a mischievous light in her great dark eyes, ' Under the shadow of Ziar sarge, love—at North Con way—arid at the moment when I believed that I was bidding an eternal good-by to another man's wife, I found my own.'—[Aldine.

The Diamond Man.

Adventuee of a Diamond Vendeb in Deteoit.

Such a sight may never be seen in Detroit again—twelve diamond pins artistically arranged on a piece of white card board — twelve glittering, glistening, sparkling, resplendent diamonds, not one of which would have looked Jut of place on the shirt-front of Duke Alexis.

The diamond merchant was not a young man ; neither was he old and broken down. He was just about old enough to sell diamonds, and just about' seedy enough to make folks believe he would discouut a thousand bollars on each precious stone for the sake of obtaining cash down. He lirst tackled the special policeman at the Central depot. He held up the card, flashing the twelve diamonds in the officer's eyes, and sweetly said: • You are a noble-looking man. I've visited the principal cities of Europe and Africa, and I never-saw a more noble looking officer than you are. There is only one thing lacking—-you should have one of these diomouds.'

■Can't afford it,' replied the officer, feeling to see if the lone two dollar bill in his watch-pocket was safe. ' These diamouds are being sold by all first-class jewellers at §500 each,' whisper ed the man; ' but I'll tell you what I'll do. I took 'em on a chattel mortgage, and I'll let you have one for twenty-five dollors.' ..-..'..

'Snide!' replied the officer, as he examined them.

' Snide ! Dear me ! but I thought you were a keen sharp follow. Gro with me to a jeweller, and if he denies that these are diamonds of first water I'll give you the whole twelve.'

The officer coulda'fc buy. The man came down to five dollars, and at last dropped to two, but it was Saturday and a policeman lores chicken for his Sunday dinner. There were a great many hack men around the depot. The stranger went out ainona; them, selected one whose make up betokened good taste, and draw ing him away from the rest he asked :

' You wouldn't go back on a poor man, would you ?' ! ' ITever,' was the earnest reply. • Here's some diamonds I stole in Paris,' whispered the stranger as he; pulled out1 the card. ' I'm hard-up, and will;sell one or two.' '] v The ttaqkniatt gazed at. i]x& jewls for

/half a minute, handed them back, and be gan to unbutton dtiis /overcoat: ■ ' ' : , ■ ~ 'You have had a,good bringing up,' whispered the stranger, ' and you can wear one of these diamonds and be con sistent. There are men in De——'

' I'll hurt you if you don't go away !' growled the hackmanv i - . L <- ~ 'As I said, I stole these diamonds.in Paris, and I've . got to part with one or two to pay current expenses,' continued the peddler. -'You keep right away, or I'll make a sand-bar of your nose,' replied the hack man. '.When I want a dollar diamond I'll whittle one out of basswood!'

' A dollar diamond! Bass-wood! Whittle! is there no taste in Detroit ?'

The hackman rushed at the peddler, and the peddler had to leave the neighbor hoodof the depot. He wentover towhere a city expressman sat on his sleigh, waiting for a job, and such a soft, tender pie plantish smile as he smiled would almost make cabbage plants sprout in January.

•It isn't very often one sees a man of your stylish look driving an express wagon,' remarked the stranger. 'Take your trunk up, sir ?' asked the driver; 'any part of the city for fifty cents.'

'Your loots go to show that you once moved ia high circles.' continued the stranger, ' and I have no doubt that you wore one of these.'

'Ah! those are beautiee,' said the driver, as he saw the'card of diamonds. ' , ' Gruess they are beauties. One of them on your shirt front would look well.' •It would that.'

' And, owing to ■ the way I got hold of'emi I can sell you one cheap. Ifound 'era on1 tfce street in New' York Oity, where a thief dropped 'em, and I?m! hard up, and will sell; you one almost at your own price,' '<' • ■''•'•'■ ! 'And I must have one,' replied the driver 'Do you warrant 'em real diamonds?' ; ;'■ -'' ■ '] " ' ■'• ■■■;•'•'' :■■•"■' j 'Of course I do.' "• * t \ ' And the pin is 'gold ?' '<••■ ' j " 'Pure gold, sir.-;' /• ' • ' And you want how much ?' •Well,' whisepred the stranger, as he looked all around', 'if you won't blow, on me I'll let you have one for seve}i dollars.' ' ■ ' -' •- j 1' Seven dollars !' yelled the driver;-' dp you think I can find food for a horse and nine children^ and pay rent,-, and buy clothes; and spend seven dollars for a diamond ? Why I can buy diamonds for two shillings!'' " ' . ~ vM r 'Oh no you can't. If I wasn't hard up I wouldn't sell oae of these for less then $500.' ■'■'<■ ■•'*< j ' Haven't I driven an express wagon in Detroit for fourteen years ? Don't I know the price of diamonds? Wasn^t I in the army for three long years ? I'll give you twenty cents and no more.' • ' I couldn't do that.' ■ • ■■■■■> ' Thenleave me done, you swindler you! I believe you came here to steal my horse blanket!' i ' ■ ' • ■ The two had a fight. It was a one-sided fight. The stranger had his head jammed into the snow and his breath shut off, and when he got up his twelve diamonds were missing. Although valued at $6, 000, he did not slop to look for them, but with thumb and finger down behind his coat collar to pull out the lumps of snow, he made haste to be somewhere else. The driver borrowed a pin to take the place of a shirt-button* and feelingly remarked^ ' When they runs diamonds up above twenty five cents they touch a tender chord in every poor man's'heart.' :,.■'■<

Snail Eating in Francs.

Laege baskets filled with snails are now to be seen in the windows of the fruiterers and the greengrocers. The edible snails of France appear'to be of a peculiar species. They have all shells of a: pale' grey hue, and vary in sifce from that of a small English walnut down to that of a' filbert. The best and most recherche qualities come from the winegrowing districts that produce the Bordeaux wines.; Horrible, slimy little beasts that they are, •■ how can any civilized beings pretend fro-eat such nasty creatures ? An American gentleman whom I met lately at a dinner party, gave me an amusing account of the sufferings to which his politeness towards a snail eating party once exposed him. He wiis on a visit to a French family residing in the country near Bordeaux. His'host was in anticipation of a visit from some friends who were extremely fond of snails, and he wished to prepare for them a treat in, advance. So a large number of snails were procured and were plentifully sup plied with fresh vine leaves, while buckets of cold water were thrown over them every day to keep them in clean and healthful condition. At last the appointed day, as Well as the expected guests, arrived, the dinner hour came, and finally thfc dish jof: the occasion was brought in, an immense' tureen fall of snails in": their shells, * I did not dare to refuse to take• some.' my imformant. 'knowing how sensitive the provincial French ate respecting any slight offered to the manners and customs, ect, I took a few snails on rriy plate and' looked round at thy fellow-guests to see how they were going to dispose of the creatures. Each person wa3 provided with a small one-pronged sfeeel instrument like a nut-pick, wherewith -they adroitly drew the animals whole out of fcheir:shells, and then popped them into their mouths; I imitated the example set" me; and got the'snail well 6ut of its shell and into my: nvjiith. vftitjKJiife' &nf trouble.: But once I

•; got the hpmd creature 6n;m* f^ found that it would be impossihiM to swallow it. My-whole natuf H i to rise up in revolt against ft • sickening,-unnatural morsel, a sr forced to conceal it in m*' ' ' ' What did it taste like P, I J^m ■ have not the faintest idea,' wastlur ' . ' I was so sickened and disgn S f fl /S!ll« • I could think of was of hoV^H creature out of my mouth as Jh possible.'—Lucy Hoopeb. q^

Who Was He?

AN TJNEEVEALED MYSTEBY OF.Tgj: j ■ _ i

' It were in the Vicksburglvw. the old sailor; 'NewOrleans^ $ with Captain Berry, and we lft 7ft of Pmfe-sfcreef:, New York abbutl?! $ of a morniri'. It were in the?*' time, when nobody much don't hir^ to the South, and the only vdl^ had were a tall chap about middle '> come down jist as the ship were a ft" out, and at onoe stowed hisaelfaw "^ the'-cabin; and. weren't seed by I'^ except the steward till arter Jlr! four-and-twenty hours to wMW luggage were a black leather 4n^ new; but he had his ticket all riffUr fust class cabin passage, '"i ; dated,:so the steward said, onthftj left, as if he'd come right down fJJ oiEce, bought his ticket, andia/"1 right aboard. I'd been sMpaaHjJ} steward in two or three ships, and i gofc to chimin' in with him in the iS yarnin' and manarlins, and thafg?' come to know more about this cUS 1 I would, 'cause in two or thi-ee &}} queer ways- got to be remarked M old man and them as was aft; (jjtv' wer©; nU'mah" could get a Vorf'VP him in the ;way of talk, • not, that V dumbi''c'au3ehe could speak if ! 8 l"!j but he jist wouldn't. : The.,old -imf a very s,6ciable old chap, maba-Z.^ gab, but he were clean beatlwithjS; and,after tryin' him onto all;tacksp giveT him; up as a badjob^andSi get nothin out of him. He'd ■ M mi the table and git his gaab, but not»m would he say from oneend of thej,.! the other.- -Then another 'queer* Jist is ;soon as, it. come dark; "thij T chap would come on deck, and' unjet eircum^tances .would he stay below any 'great length of time all throng night.1 In rainy weather he'd'dodEe J the break of the poop, oranyiiierßst ho could find shelter ; but 'until tile J ing come he wouldn't go to bfed,'mJ., in the. daytime he didn't seeih for |oj| much. * That there chap,'says tie si* arcl, • has got somethin' onto 'his mmdi wouldn't have, for a million.of m , It aint easy- for to go into H s v without wakin' him; but sometii enters very softly, and then wakes H and its awful to see the start he'll« afore, he comes to be wide awake-ant sweat jist stands out onto him : lite m wax beads. He ain't a badsort nitii says the steward; '-he give y|L piece the fust day he comejab^s here's a couple more quaTter-eagleji he's give me since, I'yewaWlt up, 'Did I say anything,' says'he'| mornin' ?' 'JN o sir,' says; "l.""'lf,I i! says hej 'don't mind it; it's nothin'; lii| jist well, and have bad dream;1 and|j gives me this.two-and-ahalfpiece.' ,f Well, sir, I mind that passage fori fact that we come nigh onto beia's away onto the 'Hole in the Wall.''

know, sir, that are a rock on li north-east pint of Abaco, that you k\ pass ente.rin' in 'twixt.-, Abaco and ti Bahama Banks to go through the Prof dence Channel,' and there are alightta onto the:' Hole in the, W^ll'- the ra has got a hole through it whiofcgivej its name—and them times that were ft only li&htliouse >till you got; clown 'toll Double Headed Shot Kays," on:Salt fy Bank. Its better nowadays 'caase fa a ; light onto Stump Kay and ontoOmj Kay, and onto the Isaacs, whichite'l islets at western end of Providence Cki nel, ;c at;;the cprner like,; where you to round to run the Gulf dowa,aad.mi!if ing vessel, you see, shy this here ffl very tickelis h navigation, 'caase' it jm kept on too far to. the wesfc>ar i d,,yo!ip{ out onto the Gulf, and was liablefortol drifted up north of Abaco, agin; andb'i to come 'round by the.' Hole in theffil agin, and if you turned the coravr ifi Isaacs too sood you was liable to felclt) aorainstlthe O.urbstone.; It were asto that this here-place weren't lightedij long ago, but yoa see it were all Ja^ ! groand, and,,they didaV;vwmt*itligH; 'cause the Nassau wreckers mAtt out of the wracks that; were.caused tji'8 not being li^hteil, aud there"jrewn^W British ships as went that wayj i 71"1*! all the British ships bound into, the 111 iof Mexico went down south of'Cdba (^ it were only the Yankee:coasters as.iW this passage, and it were the chief Bnpp of Nassau .them times that these Ya^'j ships should* be. wraked. Ani<ifW^ they was, every,year, enough.of;|^| pay for all the. lights /that : \jk^ for I doesn't know a, mm:^oo navigation than it were them times W the /Hoie in the Wall' chock ground tot TortugaseS aud any skipper breeches off in all, that time weifettp,lll to command a,ship. , t'i 'But as I were sayin',on thisiettl sage we was a-steerin' down spttlfj 9! ifor the ' Hole in the Wall,' breeze from abo,ut;, southeast^hiS|l"|: tts'down,to double reefs. W W light: about two, o'clook in'iPfW 1

Star Supplement, JMCay^e^lSyG.