and Felice had handled it from her baby hood. She had brought it to America and had carried it from place to placo with her. Nobody had cared ; nobody had question ed the poor young chambermaid.

But ' Mc&s Loolo' cared. Pretty brought the violin as simply as if bidden to bring a flower or a book. It was old, chirk, rich —mellow in its hues as in its tones,

' May papa como up ?'

' I haf always lofed to please you, Mees,' said Pretty. ' But I haf nevaire learn inoosic. I haf none but vary old moosic'

There were, indeed, some old, yellow sheets of foreign music lying in the bottom of the case, but Felice did not take them out.

* I know in my heart this music— father's lofely moosic'

She lifted the instrument to her bosom. She laid her clear, dark cheek against it lovingly, in tho unconscious fashion of the true levers of the violin ; her fingers, long, supple, dark, sounded the chords ; the bow gleamed and glanced as it sought the strings; and, bending over it, Pretty's young facn paled and flushed gloriously, as her father's ' lofely moosic' stirred her two listeners to tears.

The child-mistress talked to papa in a very excited manner as he bore her away on his shoulder to the breakfast-room. Papa listened, papa thought, papa assen ted.

' I think so, dear. She is worth it! There are only you and I to spend the money, and why shall we not do as we like, birdie ?'

So little Miss Bedfern was to be a patron of music. That was almost as good as to be a musician. ' Pretty' could refuse nothing to her dear littlo mistress. In her loving simplicity she did as she was bidden, even to the trying on of ono handsome dress after another, when she was taken to the fine shops. And at night, after the hair-dresser was done with the soft curls of her brown hair, and she stood before the mirror in her lace frills and silk dress, she simply said, in her soft, limited English..' You have made me mose lofely, Mees Looloo.'

In the evening, when the envited guests bearded and spectacled men, and fine and gracious women —were gathered down in the gardens below, among the lighted trees and the mountains and the arbors, the tall, simple, ' Pretty' obeyed her mis tress again without a question. Lifting her violin to her bosom, she came out upon the balcony, and played once more the old Italiaa music. With bared heads and silent lips the company of musicians Stood to listen.

Soft bravos, fluttering handkerchiefs, showers of fresh flowers, greeted simple ' Pretty.' They thought her some new star, and this her private debut.

What was their surprise to hear it was the little Miss Bed fern's maid, whom they had thu3 quietly been brought to see and pass judgment upon ! But gracefully, nay generously, they acknowledged her as thoroughly worth the musical education Mr. Bedfern and his daughter Were planning to bestow. To the simple ' Pretty' herself, simple with all the honesty and unconsciousness of true genius, the great plan was not altogether too strange, not too great. If one had offered her beauty or pleasure in another shape, she might have drawn back from the gift—but not from music. It did not seem to surprise her that she was going back to the old world, and not as a steerage passenger,but dressed in costly robes, and under the care of friends, to study with the great masters of music; ' I will come back, dear Mees Looloo, and sing to you and the kind papa lofelicr than you can think, when I sail haf staid long. Some other day, you sail haf to be proud of your ' Pretty.' Yes, some day, 4 Pretty' will come back to her little mistress, and to us, with the sweet old Italian violin

A Fond Due Lac Toothache.

THE'fond dv Lac 'Commonwealth' says : A man named Holland, living out on the Goss farm, was attacked with a severe tootoache the other evening, and he thought his head would split open. He would sit down for a moment, holaing his face in one of his hands, and groan. Then he would jump up and pace the floor, and kick at something that happened to lie in his course, and then sit down and groan some more. It was a bad case. Every body in the house was made miserable by the man's sufferings and lamentations. He tried holding alum and salt in bis mouth, and binding horseradish leaves on the outside of his jaw, but they did no good. Finally, somobody came across a copy of Da. Chase's Receipt Book, and thorein was a balm for every ill. In two minutes a receipt was selected, and a courier despatched with it to a drug store iv the city to have it ' put up. He returned in good time, and a dose of the compound, which contained among other ingredients liberal quantities of ether and chloroform, was administered, presently the tooth?che was relieved and the patient felt himself gradually being overpowered by sleep. The suspicion all at once crossed his mind that he had been poison eS. He became greatly alarmed, and appealed to those present, in a frenzy of desperation, to save him from his impend ing fate. A doctor was immediately sent for, and while the messenger was gone the alarm was communicated to the neighbors^ One of the men seized a pail and rushed out into the pasture, where he woke up a m, wilted about a quart* and hurried

back to the house. This the dying man drank, and had just finished when another neighbor came in, and said that there was nothing so sure as an antidte for all kinds of poison as raw eggs. Seven or eight raw eggs were given the suffering man, and he had just intimated that it was'nt possible for him to swallow another, when two more neighbors arrived simultaneously —one bearing a can of lard and the other a tea-saucer full of coffee. The lady with the lard said that they must help her to put some^ of it down him right away—there wasn't a moment to lose—and the one with the coffee set about preparing a cup of that beverage for the dying man, which she said, must be strong enough to hold up an iron wedge. The unfortunate man had got down about three fourths of a tea-cupful of lard when the coffee was ready, and he unbottoned his waist-coat and swallowed it. There seemed to be just room enough left for it. Another neighbor came in and insisted that what the patient needed was an emetic to thrust the poison out of the stomach. He said the quicker they did something of that kind the better it would be for him, and that it was dangerous to delay the matter a moment longer. They had prepared a quart bowl of strong salt and water, and were urging Holland to take some of it when the doctor arrived. He examined the contents of the bottle carefully, tasted it, and then said: ' This is all right; a very good remedy for toothache and neuralgia—gives the patient a rest for a time from his pain.' ' And ain't it poi son ?' gurgled the man, who was so full of new milk, raw eggs, lard, coffee and salt water tbat he could scarcely articulate, «ain't it poison, doctor ?' ' Well, no ; not exactly; and yet a quart or two of it might kill a man—or it might not —it would depend a good deal on his condition. A man of your health and constitution could easily get away with a churn full of it.'

Dame Gossip to her Friends.

Dear friends, both near and far, I thought could not do much better, Than write to you in these hard times, a simple, heart-felt letter. I've much to tell, that much I fear, will never yet be told you. For service done I've got to praise, and undone got to scold you. I know the means of tattle now are some think more than double, But spite of that, poor Gossip now can't breed her old-time trouble. I sadly fear I'm going out, that men ere long will leave me, And when you say it is not so —I think you half deceive me. Just look around from house to house, how full they are of blessing, When you with little skill I throw, could change tbeir sweet sarressing. 'Tis shame . There's Mrs. Jones, who lives in peace beyond her measure, That has no care from anything, and al ways takes her pleasure; Her husband's deacon in the church, and you ne'er think to flout her, And find some wretched fault with him, and have some talk about her. Why, bless me, she's no better than her common run of neigbours, And everybody knows her children work at niggers labors ; I tell you, friend, there's scandal yet for this and that fine body, And folks to speak it out need not to take their whisky toddy ; For instance, there's Miss Prim, that once was plain as you or I be, And, now because she's got a beau, her, conduct is untidy. Then Sarah Smith, that married Brown, a stuck-up little flirter ; You bet 'ere long her husband will for Poily Ann desert her. And Nelly Green, that wed before she fairly knew her fellow, I hear has got her pride laid low, and now begins to bellow; She came the fashions pretty high and drest enough to kill you, Now you can take her feathers off. I only, I only put it—will you? Oh, mercy, dear-a-me—l m crowded out ' with tittle-tattle, And only wish I could do all and fight this scandal-battle, I'd make the nations bleed, and spoil the world's pacific notion. I'd devastate the land, you bet, and whirl-a-gig the ocean ! But now I almost plead in vain to get my news agoing, To manufacture hates, brew lies, and set the 100H3I1 blowing; The human heart can't be so bad as twas in byegone age 3, Or schooling has at discount made my once unrivalled wages; The business life, and manners now, change much the gadding fdshion, Preventing spites ot selfishness and brag adocia passion ; . Men grow ashamed to own me theirs, l m like a poor relation, And like the Pope expect to move trom nation unto nation. Now can't you do as all your good fore fathers daily used to, And make men hate the deil and yet suppose that they are deuced toP My friends the witches all are put to death, and I am weeping, But this peculiar kind of mind I hold in precious keeping ; .. I want the nicest sort of folks to come and do the bumming, And set the church and grocery stores, aad all ihfi town a humming

It seems real good when gentle folks begin the secret titter, And if it is a friend, it makes the dose much more the bitter. So hasten up your means : collect the word, the deed, the scorning, And what you learn at eve repeat again by early morning. But never make a thing up clear ; suffice the hint and seem so, And if it is not true, the people take it up and dream so. A little truth to water much will turn your neighbors dizzy, And all around the cauldron go like Mac beth's witches busy; Thus populate the world with spite and all you can of jarring, For men love sin mischievous yet and every kind of warring ; And if we can put down the love that seems my way to hinder, I guess the world will burn to rags and passion blaze like tinder ; At any rate we'll try it on from Sunday unto Sunday, And give the world the benefit of Gossip and of Grundy!

Fleetwood Spurgeon's Plot.

Number 25 in our Square is a large brick houso, with five windows to the front, and a largo balcony, full of mignonette and geraniums all the summer. For a long time nothing was known of its inhabitants beyond the information contained in the Directory, where they were registered as Miss Keith and Miss Indiana Keith. Indeed, for ten years our Square was kept in total ignorence of their history. By sight wo all knew them well, for frequently if the weather was fair, they were to bo seen in the Square garden, and were accompanied by a dark-complexioned but pretty little girl, and a Hindoo, who, though dressed like an english-woman, was supposed to bo an Ayah. The little Leila, who must have been about three or four years old when they first came to Number 25, never joined in the games of the other children in the Square, but used to walk with the ladies and the Ayah, chatting away in a tongue which tho wondering nurses supposed to bo Hindoo stant, and which seemed much more familiar to her than English.

At church the Misses Keith were most regular; and generally on a Sunday morniig, Leila accompaniod them, with the Ayah, who seemod to follow her like a shadow. In all parochial charity lists their names appeared, and the clergyman was inclined to assribe many an anony mous donation to their liberality; and often, on a week day afternon their car riage, instead of taking the direction of tho park, would convey them to the workhouse or hospital, where they were ever most welcome.

Of their personal appearance wo have hitherto said nothing. Miss Keith, who might have been about thirty when sho came to live in our Square, was small and insignificant-looking ; but her expression was mild and agreeable, and the tone of her voice pleasant. Mis 3 Indiana, who must have been nearly ten years younger than her sister, was tall and slight, and her features were delicate and beautiful; but her whole air and manner wero those of a person who has passed through a great sorrow; and the sallowness of her complexion rather marred the general effect. Her voice, more musical than her sister's, was mournful in its tone, expres sive of a sort of quiet weariness, and very different from Annie's cheerful, rapid accents ; and yet, dissimilar as they wore, the closest affection unitod the two. And now, instead of letting our readers group as we did in the dark, we will, without further preamble, admit thorn into the secret of Number 25, and tell them tho story as it was told us nearly twenty years ago. ____~ ~ , Anne and Indiana Keith wero the only children of Sir William Keith, who occu pied a high judicial appointment at Agra, and had spent tho greater part of his life in India. Soon after the birth of Indiana Lady Keith was ordered to return to England for the sake of her health, and the two children went with her ; and when in a couple of years she died, they re mained there with their grandmother till death deprived them of their home, and they went out to join their father m India. At tbat time Indiana was seventeen years of age, and her beauty struck and de lighted all the English residents of the city. Her rich coloring was a positive feast to the eye after the sallow cheeks of the Agra ladies, and only enhanced the lustre of her glorious dark eyes ; so that in a short time tho whole garrison was at her feet, and all the civil servants were hopelessly in love. The elder sister was completely thrown in tho shade, and she knew it; but she was quite free from any feeling of jealousy, and delighted in the universal admiration that Indiana inspired. Of course among her worshippers there was one that the beauty preferred ; and though the spirit of coquetry which possessed ber, rendered her sentiments doubtful for a time, she submitted at last to become^the bride of Captain Henry Willougbby," of Her Majesty s lo Ist Begiment of Foot, a gallant officer and an excellent man, who was a universaltayonte and especially approved of by Sir William. It is true his means were small, but then the lady's fortune would amply suffice for both; and as there was no particular reason for delay, Indiana consented to the day being fixed for the marriage. One morning, as she and her sister were OCQupied iv looking over a number oi

trosseau dresses, just arrived from Calcutta, she was told that a person wished to speak with her ; and two native women entered the room, tho first thickly veiled, the othor with her face uncovered and carry ing a baby of about a year old. To Indiana's rather hasty inquiry of what they wanted, the foremost answered by removing her veil and displaying features, which, though dark were strikingly beautiful; and then, approaching the white beauty, timidly asked in broken English if it was true that the Bebee was going to marry the Soubahdar Willoughbv.

Indiana nodded assent with a smile and a blush, and Meenah Baec continued :

' Does the English law allow men to have two wives ?'

' Good heavens!' exclaimed Indiana angrily, ' what does all this nonsense mean P' while her calmer sister answerod :

'Englishmen can never take a second wife till the first is dead.'

' Then the Bebce musn't marry the Saubahdar Sahib;' and she handed to the sisters a piece of paper which Indiana took and opened, and. perused with an angry frown, though, as she finished it, she laughed and said :

' This is some stupid joke meant to frighten me. Somebody has been making a fool of you, I fear, Then turning to her sister. ' Look, Anno, a contract of marriage between Henry Willoughby, Captain in her Majesty's 131 st Foot, and Meenah Baeo. daughter of Holkars Dowan, with somo unreadable name or other; dated two years ago at Indore— Do you moan to say,' and she turned fiercely to the woman, ' that you consider yourseif married to Captain Willoughby ?' Meenah Baee answered timidly in the affirmative. A thick cloud rested on Indiana's brow as she again examined the document.

'It is his signaturo,' sho said, with choking voice. ' Here is a note I had from him yesterday; it is undoubtedly his writing, signed by a clergyman too, the Bey. W. Jones.'

'Thero is Henry coming !' exclaimed Anno, who was looking out of the window.

' We will have him in hero,' said Indiana coldly, and gave ordors to a servant. ' You Meenah Baee, remain veiled until I bid you show yourself.'

Captain Willoughby entered the room with a look of depression on his faco, which at any other stime would havo roused Indiana's tenderest sympathy; but now, without observing it, she bowed in a manner that at once startled and confound ed him, and beforo he could approach her, said : ' Captain Willoughby, you arr come at a moment when your testimony is wanted. Havo you ever seen that person before P'

At her signal, Meenah Baae raised her veil, and Willoughby started slightly, as he boheld the beautiful face, and answered rather vehemently, for he fancied that Indiana was jealous: 'Never, that I re member.'

' Would it bo inconvenient to you to exert your memory a little ?' demanded Indiana in tho same cold, hard voice ; whilo Meenah Baoo, exclaiming. 'It is ho ! it is my husband !' threw herself at his foet, embraced his knees, and kissed the hem of his garment in her rapture. Poor Captain Willoughby, thoroughly bewildered by this ebullition of tenderness on tho part of a perfect stranger, and by his betrothed's sudden change of manner, and also oppressed by the sad news that he had coma to communicate, could not speak for a whilo, and his silence confirmed Indiana in her suspicions of his guilt. At length he replied .- ' I cannot recollect having ever seen her before, and what she has to\lo with you and I, on my honor, I cannot conceive.'

' Your conscience should tell you,' said Indianna. 'So you porsist in disavowing her?'

But Henry Willoughby's patience could last no longer, and without noticing the last question, he exclaimed : ' What all this means, Indiana, you best know ; but I confess it appeai-3 to me a very dull jest, especially under the present circumstances. I have sorrow enough already without your adding to it. You, from whom I hoped for comfort.' he added with emotion. After a moment he recovered himself, and went on: 'My regiment is just ordered to march, at a moment's notice, against the Sikhs, and we start this evening.'

Indiana's face grew pale, but otherwise she gay« no sign of emotion, as she handed him the paper, and said : ' It may appear a jest to you, but it certainly is none to me. Bead that.'

Willoughby read it as desirod, and then said :' I never signed this paper. It is true I was at Indore about the time when this marriage is said to have taken placo ; but surely, Indiana, you cannot believe such a story about me—oh, Anne, she caunot really believe it ?'

Miss Keith shook shook her head sorrowfully, but did not speak; and Indiana, without looking at him said: ' Meenah Baee, can you swear to this man as your husband P' and the woman unhesi tatingly answered ' Yes.'

On being further questioned by Anne, she related that her husband had been obliged to leave Indore a few days after their marriage, but that she had lived on there till the birth of her child, when her father, in ignorance of it all, and of her change of faith, was anxious to give her in marriage to one of her own nation ; and to escape his importunity, she had fled to Agra, and whilst making inquiries respect ing her husband, she had seen him on parade, and hearing that he was about to i

be married, had come forward to assert her own claims.

In answer to all this, Captain Willoughby could give nothing but a flat denial: but he owned that appearances were against him; and Sir William, whom Anne had summoned to the conference, looked dis turbed, and said that it was just as well that Willoughby should have to leave Agra now, before the story got abroad. He would cause the matter to be thor oughly sifted, and the witnesses sought out whose names were appended to the document, and for tho present anyhow, the engagement had batter be considered at an end.

Captain Willoeghby, whose pride was deeply wounded at his word being doubted, acquiesced, and approached Indiana to bid her farewell; but his offered hand was rejected; and haughtily bowing, she turned away ; and when that evening the 131 st loft Agra, in high spiris at the pros pect of an encounter with the Sikhs' perhaps the saddest heart among them was that of Henry Willoughby, whose only hope now was that he might fall in battle, and that Indiana might then repent of her injustice. But he was dissapointed, and passed through all the battles of Moodkee, Ferozeshah, Sobraon, without a scratch; though he risked his life on every occasion iv the most daring and reckless manner, and performing feats of the most heroic bravery, failed in finding tho death that he desired.

After Willoughby left her father's house, Indiana preserved the same stolid composure?; her pride was deeply hurt at the indignity that had been offered her, and yet, with strange inconsistency, she insisted on Meenah Baee's taking up her abodo in her houso, and showed the great est kindness for her and her child;

Perplexed by her sister's conduct, Anne Keith knew not what to do, or how to rouse her from her unatural calmness; but this was suddenly ended, for as the troops loft Agra, they had to pass by Sir William's houso, and at the sound of tha drums and fifes, Indiana fainted away, and it was somo hours before she recover ed her senses. A long illness ensued, and left her so weak, that the doctors assured Sir William that his only chance of saving his child's life was to send her back to England ; and has his own health was giving way, he decided to resign his appointment, and return with her. He had not forgotten his promise with Willoughby, and every inquiry was made, but in vain. The Boy. Mr. Jones had boen dead, for a year or more ; the Dewar, though he had discovered that his daugh ter had married an Englishman, was either unable or unwilling to give further information ; and tho two native witnes ses whose names were appended had left their country during some troubles, and could not bo traced ; and even Anna Keith's faith in Willoughby was beginning to give way; though she still clung to the belief that some fatal mistake had occurred.

Indiana's long illness had destroyed the freshness of her beauty, but she still possessed sufficient charms to attract numerous admirers, and one of the most pertinacious was a Mr. Spurgeon, who had been long devoted to her, and who ou Willoughby's departure, and, it was reported dismissal, again took the field, though wi th no more success than before.

Sir William had stayed too long in India and after leading an invalid life for a year in Bath and Tunbridge Wells, he died, leaving a fortune to his two daughters, who thereupon established themselves in our Square, and led the useful and seclu ded life that ,/e havo described. Meenah Baee, who, though she had been baptized, was still known by her former name, and tho little Leila, accompanied them ; and the child was the object of the warmest affection of both sisters, and more es pecially of Indiana, whose resentment had long since been extinguished by Annie's kind and Christian counsels, and who now felt only pity for the unfortunate Wil loughby, with an occasional feeling of pride when she saw his name mentioned with praise in the despatches, and of regret at the thought that such brilliant qualities should be united with so much baseness.

One day, ten years after the Missess Keith's establishment in our Square, Anne was confined to the house with a cold, and Indiana went alono to the hospital where they wore accustomed to pay weekly visits. In one of the wards she missed a familiar face and in answer to her inquiries, was told that the poor sufferer had died only the day after her last visit. 'He talked a good^'leal of your kindness to him,ma'am,' said the nurse, ' and was very quiet and gentle to the last. But the patient who has his bed now is very troublesome. He was brought in nearly a week ago, having been ran over by a cab, and was hurt so badly that the surgeon doesn't think he'll get ever it; and lam afraid, ma'am, that he isn't in a right frame of mind, for he u<ed dreadfully^bad language when they brought him in, though lately he has been quieter.' When Indiana had gone her round of the ward with a few kind words to each patient and the reading aloud of a psalm and a prayer to such as could bear ifc, she approched the bed of the of whom the nurse had spoken, and though rather in dread of what he might say to her, sat down by him and gently expressing her sympathy in his misfortune, asked if she should read to him. The man, whose eyes had followed her with interest, ever since she came in, assented with a readiness and civility that surprised the nurse 5 an<J

Evening Star Supplement, «Xi*ly 22, 18^6