worked back into the main road, got a lift on the wagon of some German emigrants who couldn't speak a word of English.but who understood pantomime and American coins. I reached Antoinette's in safety, and was made welcome at her home. For tunately her drunken husband —Bill Jones, you know —was away on a camp-hunt. I had brought a full purse with me, bat I knew that couldn't last forever, and I began to reflect about what I should do for a living. I couldn't bear to think about teaching.' I knew I couldn't sew, and 1 was by no means sure that I could cook. ' I wish I were a man !' exclaimed I to Antoinette, and the wish was father to the ! thought. After a variety of shifts and ex- i periments a complete matamorphosis was effected and I succeeded at last in accommo dating myself to a full suit of masculine habiliments. I felt strange in them at first, but after I had shingled my hair, and smoked a cigarette or two, it all seemed as natural as if I had been to the manner born. I went out to buy me a Biustag, and the mau who sold him to me was so vexed because I could not be cozzenod into giving a double price for him, that I overheard him observe to some one standing by that any one could tell I was a grand rascal, because I did not cuss around like a good, honest man. As I was riding back to Antoinette's, I met tho Regulators in full pursuit of a party of horse thieves, and as they needed, all the recruits they could muster, Ijoffered my services, and wa3 sworn in. We followed those thieves as fur as Trinity, and had just returned when we heard of my ',-auider. I had given poor Antoinette my dress and various triukel-s that I was wear ing when I left home, and as the dress was a silk, ami in spite of its experiences in the Sabine bottom, still had some traces of fashion and elegance about it, I suppose she lost no time in shining forth in it; at any rate, as we learned from to-day's evideuce, she was wearing it when Bill Jones murdered her, in one of his drunken furies. She and I were near of a height, and not unlike in figure, so taking the dress and rings iato consideration lam not much surprised at the mistake that had been made, though had it not been for fear of being recognized by Mr. Cald well and his son-in-law that isn't going to be, I should have jumped up to-day and defended you in opeu court.' The moonbeams were now beginning to straggle through the great cracks of my prison Walls, and by their light I examined my jailor with much more interest than before, and if I may be allowed to speak paradoxically, Miss Josephine Caldwell was the handsomest man I had ever seen. Before her transformation she must have been one of tlic tallest of women, and her clearly cut features und smooth, colorless complexion were as much in keeping with masculine as with feminine attire. Her great black eyes had much more brightness than tenderness about them. and wha1: might once have been a wealth of raven hair was cut off close to her head. Truly, there was not much probability that she would ever ' stand confessed, A maid in all her charms.' 'I hear the Moderators coming,' said she 'so I must not tarry long in making my adikttx. Here is a letter to my people that you are to mailinNatchitoches. You needn't be afraid to go there, for that person you tried so hard to kill is now very much below par on account of some rascality in office, and people are beginning to say you ought to have done your work more thoroughly. Good-by, I must go out now, and show fight, or they'll suspect me of being a traitor to my party.' 'Come with mo,' exclaimed I, ' and lets go home together.' ' Excuse mo. Not until my old bald head marries or dies.' 'Surely this kind of life will kill you! ' Stranger, I am almost ashamed to say SO, bin I like it.' •Like herding with tins gang of ruffians and being ordered to and fro by the black est hearted villain of them all ?' ' Capt. Sibley is no villain ! And even in the moonlight I could see the blood surging up to my jailor's cheeks as she rushed out of the door. 'I pay it all in an instant. Another case of the Duke and Viola ; of Ealondo and Zamovn. and now I had gone and offcndpfl mortally my one efficient friend in all this hostile region. Pfrhaps, too, I had drawn it rather strong as regarded the Regulator. Oapt. Sibley was a wild reckless dare-devil, who could out-swear all the other men of the Tanawha country but in other respect I am not sure that be wns worse than his fellows. Even supposing I had spoken tho truth, I might have known that from Cain downwards there has never lived a villain who has not been loved by some woman or other. While I meditated in this wise, a sharp altercation was going on in front of my prison, which ended by the , violent flinging open of the door, and sudden en entrance of a party of men only a trifle less ruffianly in appearance than the dis reputable gang who had conducted me thither. , ' Stranger,' said the foremost of them, after a hurried greeting had been exchang ed, ' that — coward who was guarding you has run away, and left his mustag hitched just, outside the door yonder. Tfovf, my advice to you is, to git on the outside of that thar critter, and most ovcrlastinly make tracks for the Sabine. Louisiana is a healthier country than this, a.nd you bad better go tbar and stay th?,r. We don't take any women-killers in ours, and thin difficulty, of yours looks very suspicious, to say the least of it,'

'I am as innocent as'—began I solemnly, but I was interrupted. . ' Oh, blow your innoconeo! Don fc do it again, and don't conic liere no more; that's all we ask of you. And now git. I lost no time in obeying this, last injunction. When I went into the moon light, I found my own mustang hitched in front of the buildiug, aad fastened to the saddle were my pistols and knife. I was not long in making my adieux to my Moderator friends, and then I turned my back upon the Tanawha for good and all, although I might have gone back m safety, for in a few weeks the real murder er was arrested in San Augistine, brought to trial aad handed. Bill Joaes had gone home from the Wattier fandango, armed with my weapons, and more than usually drunk; had found his wife arrayed in Miss Caldwell's dress and trinkets, and as she was unable, satisfactorily, to account for them, had murdered her in a fit of jealous rage. I mailed Miss Oaldwell's letter in Natchitoches, as I had been directed to do, and heard nothing more of the prodigal daughter till twenty yeara afterwards. I was then practising law in Galvesfcon, and being retained on a suit involving an extensive iraet of land in the western portion of the State, I went in person to examine land-papers and local records. In the town of Goiiad I encoun tored no less a person than Tom Sibley, formerly captain of the Regulators, after wards proprietor of a cattle ranche near the Nueces river We recognized each other instantly, and Oapt. Sibley, grasping my hand, cordially expressed a hope that I had forgotten old scores. "I can't say that I have,' replied I, drily. ' There aro some things that are calculated to impress themselves in any man's memory.' , " Why, you aro as vindictive as my wife, returned the Captain.' She hasn't forgiven you yet for calling mo a black-hearted villain.' , " Then you married Miss Ualdwell P said I. ; " I didn't marry anybody else, you may bet your .bottom dollar on that. A short time after you gave.us the slip, she came up missing, and then"! knew from the way I felt that Joe must be a woman, for I couldn't have been so much tore up in mind about a fellow. I turned over my command to Jim Blakey, for without Joe I wasen't worth a cent, and I lit out in search; of my wife, and as luck would have it, in less than a week I met up with her face to face in the old Fort Jesup road. She had on her woman riggings, and was about to give me the go-by, but I told her that wouldn't begin to do, as I had como for her. Shk caved in right away, but when I went to ask the old folks they raised hail calamity about it, as she had made an agreement with them not to marry without thoir consont on condition they would let her go from tho man they picked! It was not long, however, before the old man died, and in less time than it took him to do that, I seized Ms pile, all bc;ing agreed to give Joe, and say no more about it. Father Pierre came over from Natchitoches to marry us, and we had a regular blow-out of a wedding, after which Joe and I came out here, and went into the stock raising business. It pays pretty well, and a raid once in a while from the Mexicans or Comanches keeps it from gowing too monotonous. Joe has half a dozen young onos now, and weighs more than she would care to have me tell, but for sticking to a saddle or hitting the bull's-eye at long range I would back her yet against any other man in Texas,"

George Eliot's New Novel.

"JDANIELDEKONDA"

A GERMAN GAMBLING SCENE- George Eliot's new novel' ' Damtisl Deronda,' was published sirauUaueously in London and New Yofk, February Ist. The first book will bo given entire —as separately published in London —in the forthcoming number of' HARI'ER' sMaGA zine.' The following linos form the inot(o of the book: Let tby chief terror be of thine own eon!: Tharo 'raid tlio throng of hurrying desires That tramplo o'er the dead to seize their spoil, Lurks vengeanca, footless, Irrestlblo As exhalations ladan with slow dont-h. And o'er tho falreat troop ot captnicd ]oja Breathes pallid pesfcilnnce. The story then opens abruptly with a portrait of the heroine and a picture of the German gambling salon in which she is introduced. Was she beautiful or not beautiful ? and what was the secret of form or expres sion which gave the the dynamic quality ■ of her glance ? Was the good or the evil ? trenius seminant in those beams ? Proba bly the evil, else why was the effect that of unrest rather than of undisturbod alarm ? Why was the wish to look again felt as coercion, and not as a longing in which the whole being consents ? _ She who raised the question in Daniel Deronda's mind was occupied in gambling, not in the o;)cn air, under a southern sky tossing coppers on a ruined wall, with rags about her limbs ; but in one of those splendid resorts which the enlightenment of ages has prepared for the same spneies of pleasure at a heavy cost of gilt mould- i ing?, dark toned color, and chubby nudi ties, all correspondingly heavy - forming a suitable condenser for Unman breath belonging, in great part, to the highest fiishion, and not easily procurable to be breathed in elsewhere m the like propor.., tion, at least; by persons of little fashan. It was near 4 o'clock oh a September day, so that the atmosphere, wa,s well

brewed to visible haze. There was deep stillness, broken only by a light rattle, a light chink, a small sweeping sound and an occasional monotone in French, such as might be expected to issue from an m geniouslyconstructed automaton, Bound two long tables were gathered two serried crowds of human beings, all save one having their faces and attention bent on the tables. The one exception was a melancholy little boy, with his knees and calves simply in their natural clothing of eperdermis, but for the rest of his person in a fancy dress.' He alone had his face turned toward the doorway, and fixing on it the blank gaze of a bedzened child stationed as amasquerading advertisement on the platform of an itinerant show, stood close behind a lady deeply engaged at tho roulotte table.

About this time 50 or 60 persons were assembled, many in the outer rows, where there was occasionally a deposit of new comers, being mere spectators, only that one of them, usually a women, might now and then be observed putting down a five franc piece with a simpering air, just to see what the passion of gambling really was. Those who were taking their pleasure at a higher strength, and were absorbed in play, showed very distant varieties of European type : Livonian and Spanish, GrEocoitallian and miscellaneous German, English aristocratic and English plebeian. Here certainly was a striking admission of human equality. Tho white bejeweled fingers of an Eng lish Countess were very near touching a bony, yellow, crab-like hand stretching a bared wrist to clutch a heap of coin —a hand easy to sort with the square, gaunt face, deep-set eyes, grizzled eyebrows, and ill-combed scanty hair, which seemed a slight metamorphosis of the vulture. And where else would her ladyship have graciously consented to sit by that dry lipped'feminine figure, prematurely old, withered after short bloom, like her arti ficial flowers, holding a shabby velvet reticule beforo her, and occasionally put ting in her mouth the point with which she pricked her card P There, too, very near the fair Countess, wa3 a respectable London tradesman blonde and soft-handed, his sleek hair scrupulously parted behind and before, conscious of circulars addressed to the nobility and gentry, whose distin guished patronage enabled him to take his holidays fashionably, and to a certain extent in their distinguished company. Not his the gambler's passion that nullifies appetite, but a well-fed leisure, which, in the intervals of winning money in business and spending it showily, sees no better source than winning money in play and spending it yet more showily—reflecting always that Providence had never mani fested anydisapprobation of his amusement imd dispassionate enough to leave off if the sweetness of winning much and seeing others win. For the vice of gambling lay in losing money at it. In his bearing there might be something of tho tradesman, but in hi? pleasures he was fit to rank with the owners of the oldest titles. Standing close to his chair was a bandsomo Italian, calm, statuesque, reaching across him to place the first pile of napoleons from a new bagful just brought him by an envoy with a scrolled mustache. The pile was in half a minute pushed over to an old bewigged woman with eyeglasses pinching her nose. There was a slight gleam, a faint mumbling smilo about the lips of the old woman; but the statuesque Italian remained im passive, and—probably secure in an infallible system which placed his foot on the neck of chance—immediately prepared a new pile. So did a man, with the air of an emaciated beau or worn-out libertine, ; who looked at life through one eye-glass, and held out his hand tremulously when he asked for change- It could, surely, be no severity of system, bnt rather some dream of white crows, or the induction that the eighth of the month was lucky, ! which inspired the fierce yet tottering im pulsiveness of his play. But while every single player differed markedly from every other, there was a certain uniform negativeness of expresion which had the effect of a mask—a 9if they bad all paten of some root that for the time compelled the brains of each to the same narrow monotony of action. 'Deronda's first thought when his eyes fell on this scene of dnll, gas-poisoned absorption was that the gambling of' Spanish shepherd-boys had seemed to him more enviable ; so far Rousseau might be justified in maintaining that art and science had done a poor service to man kind. But suddenly he felt the moment , become dramaCic. His attention was • arrested by a young lady who, standing at an angle not far from him, was the last to whom his eyes travelled. She was bend ing and speaking English to a middle aged lady seated at play besido her ; but ' the next instant she returned to her play, ! and showed the full heigth of a graceful ; figure, with a face which might possibly be lookad at without admiration, but could hardly be passed with indif ference. * * * * * The sylph was a winner, and as her taper fingers, delicately gloved in pale gray, were adjusting the coins which had been pushed towards her in order to pass them back again to the winning point, she looked round her with a survey too mark edly cold and neutral not to have in it a little or that nature which we call art concealing an inward exultation.

Tho first person who ever went round the World—the man in tha moon.

The ber,t way for a man to acquire a five now of Innguage, is to stub his toe agaimt a raised-brick.

Browning's New Poem.

The first part of Eobert Browning's new poem, 'The Inn Album,' is published from advanced sheets m the New xork ' Times ' of Sunday, occupying about ten columns. The poem exhibits m a marked degree Mr. Browning's faculty ot subtle analysis of character, the deliseation of the different phases of mental conscious ness, and his rare descriptive powers, The scene of the nesv poem opens in a secluded country tavern, 'the crow nest nook,1 in a retired English hamlet. lwo characters are introduced in the first chap ter—a rich young Englishman, son of a manufacturer, and an elder companion, a broather of a Duke, a blase man of the world, who has induced his youthful companion to spend a night at the inn, on his way to visit an aubfc and a cousin to whom he is engaged by the advice of the elder, who has saved him from giving his life to science. They have passed the night in playing cards for money, and, eontary to his usuil luck, the youogster has been winning; and as the morning breaks the elder foots up the account, and finds himself a loser for £10,000. The young man. while his commde is figuring, has opened the window and looks out: i.parktewith W morning diamond drift 0' tho sun-touchfld dew. . The elder finishes his work, which he has done on the first page of the inn album and hands the result to the younger, who in a delicate manner, requests that the play be considered mere play. The loser refuses the generous otter of his friend, although he admits that he planned the trip for ttie purpose of winning from his rich companion. He has no money, but promises to pay by the end of the month, or when he is able. To which the young man responds i Which Is—when to be ? , I've heard, great characters require a fall ■ Of fortuue to show graatness by uprise '< They touch the ground tojollily rebound. Add to tho Albun ! Let a fellow share Your aocrit of superiority I c «•«-*»* The gambler refuses the request, and tho two leave for tfeo'depot, where the younger is to meet his fiancee, and the elder io take the train to visit his brother the Duke. In the second chapter the two halt to chat on the way to the depot, and the youth beguiles the older into telling the story of why, with so much ability and such knowledge of men, he hns failed to be either rich, great or happy. The story is of a disappointed love, of winning the 1 affection of a country beauty, who, finding him untruthful, discarded him. In tell ing the tale the train is lost, and the young man, after tolling his own story of dis appointment —which leaves the suspicion thai his first love was the same who rejected his comrade—goes to meet his aiint and cousin, with the understanding that as soon a3 etiquette will allow he will return to meet his friend at the inn. There are many quotable verses in the chapter, like the following : Show me whore's t'.ie woman won without The help of this one lie which she believes— That—never mind how things have come to pas?, />nd let who loves hay 3 loyed a thousand tica.es — All tho same he now loves her only, loves Her ever ! In the third chapter the plot thickens. While the men have been tailing their stories, two women have entered the inn for a quiet chat. They are the cousin, and a married friend four years older, wife of a country parson. The latter has come from her retired life at the request of the forme r, to talk with her upon the subject of her approaching marriage. The result of the conference is that the cousin is sent home to meet her lover with the understanding that she is to bring him to the inn for lunch, and thus give the other an opportunity to judge of the fitness of the match. The interest of the remaining part .of the poem is to be found in the probability that the married lady is the same who was the first love of the boy and the last love of his older compan ion, and in tho complication which are likely to arise at the country inn, the album of which has played a very small part in the poem.

Handsome Joseph.

Three are other versions of the story of Joseph and Potiphar's wife than the orthodox and generally accepted one. The following is attributed to M, de Lesseps:—When Potiphar's wife was accused of havirg flirted with Joseph she attempted no denial, but merely said that Joseph's beautywas so great that any other woman would have done the same thing. This she offered to prove, and having assembled all the youdg ladies of the Egyptian Court she placed them in a row with their eyss turned towards the door of the apartment. In the hands of each girl she put an apple and a knife and told them to cut the apple when the signal was given. By prearrangenient the door was suddenly opened and Joseph appeared in all his beauty. Potiphar's wife gave the sigDal at that moment, and every girl saved one, instead of cutting the apple cut her hand. The beauty of Joseph had so dazzled them that they were unable to take their eyes off him. It is needless to say that there was a general feeling that Potiphar's wife was quite excusable. The girl who showed hue hands uncut, on being asked to explain, said that the in stant; she saw Joseph she felt that.it was ho longer safe to hold the knife, and she hurled it from her before the signal to cut the apple had been, given.

Poetr y.

SINGING.

Let ma count up ths songs of lifo that wa : Have sung togother from tho first till now The Bimplo baby rhymes ofjbird or bee, ''? Of sun and star, ot stream and blossom-bonA The deeper music of our youth'a now song, *; In days whan life looked wonderful fair ■ When hearts were daring pulses quick andatroiw "When woe was not, and joy wi-s everywhere' The wilder strain of passion, smiles and tear;' When love awoke with power to slay or sava< The calmer melody of graver years, ' '. In minor koy, lite music by a grave. And now we have another song to learn, {| 'Tis written for us, we've but to wait our turn, I often think this unseen, uniUDg Bong, With all its strangeness, will have notes WebL And we shall hoar its awful chordi among W| The minglod music of our long pgo. The simple snatches of our baby-rhyme 3 : Tho thrilling bars of youth's triumphant stfifo. The peals of melody, liko wedding chimes ' That bring our Summer love-song back'agalii It may be this new song is hard to sing, But shall we grudee to learn it, who nave aim Tired aadjvoiceless in earth's carroling? ™ You fain would have some melody our owa>i And though it is the song of death, we know ' That singing it, to endleas life we go.

THE PSALM-BOOK IN THE GARRET.

A garret grows a human thing With lonely oriental eyes, To whom confiding nngeia bring The world in yesterday's disguise. Ah, richer far thin noontide blaze The soft grey silence of the air, As if long years of ended days Had garnered all their twil'ghi there, The heart can nee so clear and fair In such a place with such a light— God counts Sis heavens sift by star, And rains them down unclouded night. Where rafters set, their cobwebbed feet Upon the rugged oakeu ledge, I found a flock of singers sweet; Like snow-bound sparrows fn a hedge. \ '■'■■ In silk of spider's spinning hid, A long and narrow Psalm-book lay; . I wrote a name upon t'e lid, Then biußhed the idle dust away. Ah, dotted tribe with ebon heads That climb the slender i'enca along ! As black as mk, as thick rs weeds, Ye little Africans of song ! Who wrote upon this pa^e ' Forget Me Not ?' These cruel leaves of old Have crushed to death a violet— Soe here Its specter's pallid K'ol.d. A penciled whisper during prayer 13 that poor dim and girlish word, But, ah, I liDger longest where , It opens of its own accord. These spotted loaves! How they onco basifld Beneath tho glance of Rirlhood's eyes, And parted to the gize unasked, As spread the wings ai butterflies. The book falls open wlnre it will- Broad on the pa^e runa silver-street! That shining wvy to Znn's Hill Where base and treule used to meet. ;m I shake the leaves, They pait at Mear— Again they strike the good old tune; The village church is builded here ; The twilight turn to afternoon, Old hou'e of Puritanic wood, Through whoso unpalnted window streamed) On seats as nrimitivo and rude As Jacob's pillow when he dreamed. The white and undiluted d»y 1 Thy naked aisle no rosus f;.'aoe That blossomed at the shnltle'splay; Nor saints distempered bless the place. ■■ Like feudal castles, front to front, In timbered oak of Sft toa Tlior, To brave the siege and boar the brant Of Banyan's endless Holy War, The pulpit and the gallery stand— Between the twain a peaceful space; The prayer and pru'se on oirher hand, And gitls and Gospel facs to face. I hear the rnverend elder say, ' Hymn flfty-Q-st, long motor, sing !' I hear the Psalm-books' fluttered play Like flocks of sparrows taking wing. Armed with a fork to pitch the tune, I hear the Deacon c.-li ' Dundeo!' And monnt as brisk as Bonny Doon His 'fa, sol, la,' and scant the key. He ' trees' the note for sister Gray; The old Sc tnh warbling strains begin ; The base of Bashan leads the w&y, And all the girls f*ll sweetly in. How swells the hymn of heavenly love, As rise the tides in Fcmdy's Bay ! Till all the air below, above, Is sweet with song and caraway! A fupue let loose cheers up the placo With base and tenor, alto, air ; The parts strike in with measured grace, And something sweet is everywhere! As if some warbling brood should build Of bits o? tunes a singing nest, Each bringing that with which it thrilled And weaving it with all the rest 1 The congregation rise and stand ; Old Hundred's rolling thunder conu3 In heavy surges, slow and grand. As beats the surf its solemn drums. how come the time -when China's wall iT-hieadeci with the faint perfume Of whispering crape x,ud cloudy veil, Tuat fold within their rustling gloom Some wounded human mourning dove, k.n& fall vronnd some stricken one With nothing left alive to love Below the unregarded sun ! And now they sing a star in sight, The b'essed Star of Bethlehem ; And now tha air is royal bt.ght With Coronation's aiadem. They show too spots of dimpled snd, They say the girls of ola «c there— O, no ; they sw e il the choirs of God : Tha dear old Soags are, eviiywheie !

THE WILD WAVE'S MOAN.

BT HELT-iTROI'JT,

Sadly I pance on the starlit shove, And mournful fancies coraa stealing1 o'er; . . Li3t, ah! list to that wail of dcipsir ■ : SBSThat passes by ou the evening a*r; The thunder of surf, and tho billow's roar, f- The fated ship and the iron-bo and shore, The frantic prayer, and the last 'goodbye.' The cry for succour where none is nigh! 'Tis only, 'tis onijr ihe wild wave's moan, Borne to niy eai ou the nifiht-brceze.tone The tattercil sail and the hopeless leak, The franzied embrace and the blanching cheek J Somebody's loved one, batting for life, In the cruel wave's fierce, li^ddened stiife : Still closely the miser clutches h's gold, But his neart is still, and his cli-3p is cold. Tho babe is still pressed to it i mother's breast, But both are wrap'tiu a dreamless rest! I see it. all, as 1 muse alone. And still there's nought bat tho wild wave's moanf Tho storm tossed spar, with its drowning load, 'Jhe full, frail boat on its wackloss road, . ' v ritif over-shndowing rnitny lives For the noble ship that never nrrlves The sick, sick heart that must still hope on, The broken heart, when al 1 hope hath gone I ?. . f '•tht! dreams- tbat have found a grave, A as! noath the cald, cUrk, .ocean-wave I ' > Ah ! I'm sad at licu-fc, and I mn s 9 K lone, And hst, and list to tho wild vavo's moau I

Pnuted aad Published by the Propiiafor, HeKE? nffiMw ?, ara^1-a'tls Ueneral Steam Printing E^Sd •l'-" StrUOt 'in tho City Vt A*cWftnd' b'aturaay, July 8,1576,

Evening? Star Supplement, *Fwly 8, 1870