A knock at the door. 2HTthe SBtvant« entere(J' h°ldißg ° S*2\{hf«ked me to take it up to you." Air Grey wss standing by the low aSlier as the servant handed him the Lee ot pape Mr Grey took the agrees in his right hiS[■■ »^« d^ B°the purbliad footraßn demanded Mr »„. w !th an amused smile. Gi; e, y B x--excuse -me-sir," the man faltered, "but your hand <<Well, what about it V ••It's all over blood!" ••What! What do you say?" shouted the master, in a tone of dismay. "Do you want a thousand too ?" no, sir ; and I beg pardon; but do look at your hand." „■« Mr Grey held up his hanil, examined it, »nd then burst out into a loud shout of Center. When 'he could speak he cried : "You charming idiot! You will kill me -ail, your droll ways. That dirty wretch «ho went out touched my hand. I had no laternear me, so I poured some claret Lr my hand and forgot to wipe if He approached James and held out his hand saying, " Look." Then added, in a tone of solemn amusement;: ''James, there L«i once a man who d.cd of laughing at San a» eat. Ido tbink I shall die of laugbiog at hearing a donkey talk. Brwg m 0 the coffee. Go." Ynd as the aervant was leaving the room, Mr Grey broke out into a lauah of quiet on the act of his fsX such a wonderful source of Seuieot in hi. servan , James. (To be Continued).

SENSATIONAL COURT SCENE.

, Wo , IVN CONFRONTED BY A HUSBAND A " She Thought Dead.

THE developments in a suit for divorce are Lsing a sensation here just now. The ~n ti ff is William Waddinghara, and the Edanthiswife.Pauiine. MrWadding- S has been a resident of St. Louis all Mslife and is the possessor of K reat wealth, Si reputed to be «o.th from §300,000 to won 000 He met his wife for the first $iw,wv about thirty year* aj>o. Swas beuTnown as Pauline Hu.ett. §ta» Zl married on 30th of August, 1853. alleges that shortly after mJrrvFn"^ discovered that his wife's re &mg\m dotes per mouth. Ashort time J ™ hfawidentaly discovered that at the ,go he 8"lS & she had another hus- Gavin wandered eastward, and, wficauelit m an act of grand larceny, being C»UB>" ' Auburn Penitentiary for TJ7em ShUe ta was in prison his t f Jit to the bad, and he became a sort tZt the Columta. Penitentiary for * i Who For the past few years his St of him. and his mother, who had not «aen him fir thirty years, supposed him she s mply says that the witness swears faLw Gavin has been in ttt. Lonu for SmiiS* though his presence was kept SSSqiSt. Monday was the day set for Sg of further depositions in behalf ofthe plliutiff, and the defendant had been Ly notified to be on hand at the office of Mi Vaddingbam's attorneys. The purple of Mr WaddiDgham was to^surprise the de fence by the pFoductiou of Gavin. He and hi. attirneys, with Gaviu, were on hand before 10 o'clock. At that hour the defen. dant with her attorney arrived, and a scene Eely dramatic in its details ensued. Mrs Waddiugham, who is a weU-pnMr'ad woman, seemingly about 45 years of age. and of small and shapely figure, came into the room with a Bmfle on her face, certain y unconscious of the trap that had been laid for her. Gavin was standing against the wall and facing the door when the woman entered the doorway. He looked her directly in the face, but gave no sign of recogoition. She gazed at him fora mo men! aa if she had suddenly been confronted by an apparition, then threw her bands into the »lr, and staggering toward a corner of the room; called out in frantic tones, " Chute*! Charles 1 Charles I" and then fell on thecarpet in a hysterical.fit. After being revived, she looked wildly around and said, in scarcely audible tone*. I thought he wa. dead." Gavin Btoodtnewi all the time, with his hands behind his lack, staring at his wife, but saying not a word. His stolid face betrayed no emotion whatever, and he looked on with the in different air of a spectator who had no con cern in what was then transpiring. When the lady was led away he coolly remarked, "That's her." He was then put on the stand and his deposition proceeded. The most sensational as well as melan choly episode of this extraordinary domes tic tragedy has yet to be recorded. It was the intention of the plaintiff's attorney jo place the defendant on the stand and try to obtain her admission under oath, b u t it was discovered that she had returned to Mexico on Mouday night, and this wjs im practicable. To leave no lutther doubt ou the question oi the p evious marriage, Mr Nichols left for Detroit on Tuesday night to procure additional testimony, if not the actual record. He took Gavin with him, aDd it was part of their trap there to have him identified as tbe Charles K. Gavin who lived there in 1845. Gavin's mother has been living in Detroit fnr fifty years, her recent home being at 201, Catharine street.

Yesterday morning Gavin and his uttor ney called there to ccc Mrs Marsh, and a telegraph despatch received yesterday afternoon gives an account o! the success of the call. It appears that Mrs Marsh has been in a weakened state of health for some years, and on account of'her age and miny family affaire, had lost vitality both of body and mind. A short time ae;o she lost her favourite eon, a lawyer in Detir.it, and sha had b -Ilevi3>i her son Cnarles de-id fot many years. When the two cailurs tapped at the door yesterday, it was opened by a girl, who condncted them to a room where the old lady was seated. She rose to receive them, ".but at that moment she recognised her lost son, and screaming out bis name, lell dead.— St. Louis Despatch in "Philadelphia Press," Fib. 16.

DR. CARAJO'S LOVE STORY.

The Xacredncss of Marriage.

I. As Docter Caiajo sat smoking in his chair one sunny afternoon, the noise of a carriage I proceeding np the street attracted his atten tion. Without altering his position, he al lowed his eyes to rest upon the vehicle and its occupant. The latter was a woman, dressed in white, with a black lace mantilla thrown over Her shoulders. Sho was in the prime of her youth and beauty, but her anxious and nervous manner showed ovi. dence of acute distress of mind. As Dr. Caraji) looked upon her, his eyes dilated and bis face flushed ; then he grew very pale. He leaned back in his chair as if to conceal himself from view, and remained for several moments motionless, awe for his uocven breathing, and ths tremulous grasp of big hands upon the arms of his chair. But when the wheels stopped before bis door, and the bell sounded in the court below, Dr. Carajo drew a longer and firmer breath, and sat erect. By the time the servant arrived with the information that a lady was below who desired to see him on a matter of life and death, he appeared no less serene and impressive than usual. "Bring hither a chair for the lady," he said, "and say that I await her." Having given these directions, the Doctor rose from his chair and remained leaning negligently ogainst the stone balustrade of toe balcony, with his face toward tne room which opened towards it. A short time elapsed—short, that is, by the wa'cn, though how long it may have seemed to Dr. Carajo it is impossible to say. Then a ruetlo and a whiteness advancing through the darkness of the room announced the visitor's approaoh. As she set foot on the balcony, the Doctor bowed his head courteously. "Dr. Carajo," she began, speaking abruptly, ''iwaa told to come to you— that no one but you could cure my husband—" At that word the Doctor raised his head and looked his visitor in the face, while a faint, contemptuous smile quivered for an instant beneath his gray mustache. The lady stopped short, her beautiful lips apart, and her great eyes fixed in a gaze of seeming amazement or disnuy. Presently she muttered some unintelligible words, ratsed her hands across her bosom with a gesture of fear or of repulsion, and her face and neck crimsoned with a hot blush. The Doctor contemplated her a few mo ments, and then said coldly : " Be seated, madam. Your husband, you were about to " I should not have come—they said Dr. Carajo " " You were rightly informed, madam. I am Dr. Carajo, and I alone can cure your ' husband—if he is curable. You may place every confidence iv mo," " On, what shall I do?" murmured the lady, pressing her hands over her face. She stood dizzily, and would have fallen had not the Doctor, by a light touch, guided her to a chair. 8h« sank down, a tremor passed through her body, and. her eyes, closed. " you appear yourself to be indisposed, madam," observed the Doctor. ■' The heat outside is great, and you have over.exerted yourself. This scent will revive you," and as he spoke he held to her nostrils a email phial containing a pungent perfume. '' You i»»k me what you shoulddo," he continued. "You should, in my opinion, lose no time in telling me the circumstances to which I owe yonr visit. If your husbmd's case is so precarious, as I am given to understand, a delay might prove fatal." " Would you not be more fatal than any delay f' demanded the lady, fixing her eyes upon him. " You are scarcely complimentary, re turned the Doctor, with a smile. '' I would do my best for htm, asior any other human oreature intrusted to my care, Neverthe less, if you deem it best to seek assistance elsewhere—you should know me enough to know that I leave you free to do what you wilL" " Ye', I know you in that speech," ex claimed the lady in a low but passionate tone. " You would leave me f tee—too free, You say you would do your best for any human creature intrusted to your care; but the human soul intrusted to your cars you would leave free to fall into temptation and be destroyed ! But. perlupi, God will be more merciful than you think." " I will not say I «m surprised at your attacking me, madam," said the Doctor, quietly; "but I cannot pretend that, under the circumstances, I understand it." A brief silence ensued; then the lady leaned forward, her hauds clasped on her knees and her face raised toward Dr. Carajo, who still remained leaning negligently against the balustrade cf the balcony. "lam at yonr mercy," she said; " and even sach a revenge aa yours should be satisfied to see me imploring your help. I take all the blame of what has been upon myself. But no punishment you could iuflict on me could be half so humiliating as tnia which 1 Inflict oa myself. I a»k you to save him ! In asking It, I give my life for his ; tor, after such degradation, life would be a burden and a shame. If you have been waiting alt theae years for a chance to wreak your hatred oa me, your time Is como. It will never come again !' The wild and reckless emphasis of this i appeal, enhanced by the tamheci voice in which it was spoken, see ned to have some effect upon Dr. Caiajo. He stroked his gray mustache and meuitatect a little. I "Do yoa lovo tbis—husband of yours, madam?'' he finally inquired. "Enough to beg his life at your hands, she answered, sinking on her knees. " As a physician," continued Dr. Carajo, " I have my professional customs. While always ready to exercise my skill in bebalf of human suffcriog, I demand in return certain equivalents. From some, one thiog; from some, another; money but seldom, for I am wealthy; but 1 compel my patient* to ieil that, whea the cure is effected, we are but quits. I have already told you that it will give me pleasure to | attempt the relief of yuur husband ; but 1 omitted the equivalent. Are you prepared to give it?" " Any thine - even my life 1 "Not your life, by any means. I shall merely require yon, aa Boon aa he is restored to health, to leave this town, never to re turn. You leave it alone, concealing from your husband your route and your destin ation. Never henceforth will you either see him or hold any manner of communi cation with him. Do you agree ?" The lady had risen to her feet, and was pressing oae hand upon her heart. Her eyes searched Dr. Cirajo's countenance with terrible intensity. " Will you fulfill yonr part of the contract!" she demanded. " I will," he replied. Her bosom rose aud fell rapidly, her face quivered, and via* now pale, nov? ted. At last she said, with a gasp, as if the words tore her life up by tiie rout 3," Then I cou sent. God hear me and judgo between us 1" " Be it so," returned the Doctor gravely. " And now, if yon please, I will accompany you to your husband. On the way you will inform me aa to his ailment. He shall be brought to my house, and you shall

witness my treatment of him. Afterward —" he made a significant gesture. The lady moved her head in assent. But as they left the balcony, a thought struck her, and she turned again. • " You will not let him know that you— aro— ?"

I will let him know that I am Dr. Carajo, madam," said the other, bowing coldly, and making way for her to pass.

11. Dr. Carajo's private room was as ciol, as quiet, and as secluded as the Doctor him self. The floor was of fine Pompeiian mosaic, partly covered with rugs ot de licately woven matting. The lower part of the walls was of yellow marble, relieved with black ; above were panels of rich woods highly polished. The coiling was vaulted, and contained a window of stained glass, iv the nature of a skylight. At one end of the room was a deep alcove, across the entrance to which was suspended a screen ur veil of uomu soft silken fabric, through which the interior of the room could bo seen, though the observer could himself be invisible. Large-leaved plants Btood here and there in marble vases ; low chairs and tables were placod in convenient positions; and in the centre of the chamber waa a broad couch, or ottoman, cushioned and draped with the finest cambric. At the end opposite the alcove was a small water jet, playing with a tinkling sound through the mouth of a bronze lion's head into a marble basin attached to the wall. A de licious coolness and fragrance pervaded the apartment, which was entirely removed from all outside noises and influences.

Three persons were present in this tooin —Dr. Carajo, tho lady, and a man who lay at full length upon the couch. He wit tall and powerfully formed, with broad shoulders and massive limbs. His features expressed strength and vigour; too ragged to be called handsome, but full of masculine pith and ability. A thick brown beard covered the lower part of is faco; his eyes were closed, and he lay in an apparent lethargy. Upon his forehead and on his arms, which were bare, appeared a number of small specks or blotches, of a purplish hue. But for a slight intermittent move ment of the chest, indicating a subdued re spiration, the man might have been supposed to be dead.

" The opiate will exhaust it* effect in a few minutes," observed Dr. Carajo, bending over his patient and eyeing him critically. "From this time the active phase of ttio case begins. Tho poison has thus far made itself perceptiblo only by a super ficial heat and stinging. It will now lay hold on the interior parts of the organism ; there will be little or no pain, but more danger."

"How long will this last!" asked the lady, who had now assumed a denieinour outwardly as quiet and self-possessed as the Doctor's own.

" We may expect three separate stages," the Doctor answered, "extending over several hour?, The patient will retain his faculties, but their action will be modified in a peculiar manner iv each of the three stages. Ar the poison strikes more and more deeply inward, you will notice a cor responding alteration in ah Ihe begins to awake."

11 Is there any hope ?" asked the lady. "The poison is oue of the most insidious and deadly known to science, and also one of the rarest," the Doctor replied. " Fro. bably few men besides myself know how to deal with it at all. The strong vital power of the patiout is in his favour ; on the other hand, too long a tine elapsed beforo the treatment began. I have an antidote here wnich, had it been given immediately, would have overcome the evil."

"And how should you give it now?" demanded the lady.

" It would stilt counteract the poison, tut at the expense of the patient's life. He has iiot now the strength to undergo the neces sary struggle." " What shall you do ?"

"1 shall administer drugs, which will hare the dcuble effect of increasing the vital power and weakening the action of the poison. Human skill can do no more. Hush! he will open his eyes in another moment. He must not be aware of your presence, btep iuto that alcove, and make no sound. You can there see all that passes. Let nothing that he may say in duce you to discover yourself, unless I give you the sign." The lady moved to the side of the couch, beni quickly, and kissed the forehead of the halt-coasciou* man, and then drew back and vanished behind the curtain of the.alcove.

111. The man drew a deep and a quick breath, moved slightly on bis cushions, and opened his eyes. His glance wandered round the room, and passed over Dr. C.trajo several times before seeming to tako note of him. When at length it centred upon him the man said, in a deep and resonant voice, " You are my physician, 1 suppose ? I feel better—free from paiu, and more strength; thunks to your skill, no doubt. How soon. do you promise to hate me up again ?" "It is now 6 o'clock in ihe morning." saida Dr. Carajo. "By this noon, at furthest, the crisis will havo passed." „. " The crisis! Humph ! Tnen I'm not out of danger yet! Tell me <ht> truth, Doctor; I'm not afraid to hear it. Ucaih or life—which is it!' Since you have chosen to ask, I will re ply," said the Doctor, after a pau»e. " You may live; but it ia more probable that yoi will die." " Humph ! Well such is life—and death! I have lived—l havo been alive-as much as most raeD. Ana this is to bo the end ? The end ! a strange idea, that !" He was silent a moment or two,.and then said, " Wnero i* Lenore t"

A slight contraction overshadowed the Doctor's brow and passed away again. _ " I presume you rofer to your wife ?' he tad. " Cottainly-the woman Hove—my wife, if there's auy meaning in words. Where is she?" "It was indispencahlc, for her sake and your own, that she should remain apiut from you for the present. Sh;i will be snm nioaeJ us noon as Siifeiy will allow-or as soon as hope vauisbos.' •Poor darling I what would become of her were I to go !'' muttered tho patient half to himself. " I must tighten my grip for her soke. Not die ! no—no ! She gave herself to me. body and toul, and 1 must stand by her to the end. Tuere, again— the end !Is this it? I', isn't whit I ex pected. Me to die, and *ho <o live on !it mustn't bo! my darling my 1-enorc! What a life wo huvs Hint tne as thrco yeius past ;what a love 1 Never a day's shadow; never a regret. Ha ! Doctor, you are there, aren't you?-and I've p'obnbly Deeu think ing aloud, us my hubit is. Well, I like your face ; you're ;i cold in in, butanhonest one. You may hear whatever comes; and maybe 'twould be us Well to make y.m my father-conforsor oiu :md out! You're as honest as auy jac.i-p.isit of "era all - eb, Doctor?' " I have never betrayed tun couliasnceoi any man. or woman," said Dr. Carajo, quietly. ' "Humph! Well. lam myself indilFcr ently honest, as the world goes, but I can't speaK quite bo fair of myself as that. But 'tis society saps onr principles. What love is so strong as the love of a man for a

woman ? and the strongest most via. Sin and virtue are a matter of words—be the responsibility hts'whp uttera them, and the suffering bis who believes them. The wise man knows that he is free, and that life is short, and the fire of youth bums but once. The treasure belongs to him who can keep it; vain to buy it with money, or bind it with cords or with vows. It will go where it belongs, and there 'tis safe." , " What, theD, do you hold love to be ?" inquired Dr. Carajo. " I hold love to be-all that my Wood and marrow, my flesh and pulses, and my five senses tell me, that it is the deligbt ot a man iv what is strange, yet familiar; like, yet unlike; man, yet woman; for bidden, yet allowed. Love is passion—in carnate happiness; a surrender that is victory ; to receive by giving; the gener osity of selfishness ; a fire that creates by consuming ; a madness that is wisdom. It is the inarticulate language that transcends all languages—the swpet speech of flesh to flesh. There's a string of paradoxes for you, Doctor, whereof you will comprehend nothing. Nor do I myself, for the matter of that; I only know that the look and touch ot a certidu woman will take a certain man captive, body and bones ; and that the more ho is captive the better he likes it. This was my case. I found a treasure, made for me to enjoy; 'twas said another man owned it, but I knew naught of him. If it were his, he would have kept it. I have proved my right to it; and if it were to be taken again, I would take it!" " Love, therefore, iB wholly a physical matter!" said Dr. Carajo, with a smile.

" Yea; and yet, by that inspiration man Iwi9 invented poetry, and the soul, and heaven, and all manner of the like glorious hallucinations. Love cannot die, we say ; no —nor will the sun ever cease to warm the cold, or water to refresh the thirsty. But neither sun nor the water, nor love it self will animate the dead ; so what is one more than the other }"

■'Surely a convincing argument," re marked the Doctor, still smiling, and with a glance toward the curtained alcove "And lovers parted on earth are parted for ever. The only wouder is that, for so slight a cause, a man should compromise himself so deeply. The world is wider than a woman's arms; and power, learning, and revenge aro sweeter than her kiss." " I have not found them so," replied the other, closing his eyes. A long silence Lllowed, durirjg which Dr. Carajo's patient seemed to lie iv a half waging dream. The physician watched him carefully. At times ho sprinkled his face with a certain volatile essence, finning him the while with a loug-bandled fan of owl's feathers; once or twice be made him swallow a powder of a reddish color. The (oaatain plashed in its marble basin and tbe rainbow fights from the stained glass win dow moved slowly along the walls and across tbe floor, and the flowers in their vases gave out their perfume. And all this time Dr Uarajo kept his face averted from the alcove, whence came no sound nor movement.

When, at length, tlio patient opened his eyes once more, a. change was manifest in his appear&nce. hU pallor was great, so that a white gleam seemed to rest upon his face ; his features were sharper j blue veins showed ihrough the skin of his forehead, and his eyes were sunken and brilliant His voice had lost its depth and strength, but was clearer nnd more penetrntiug than before. Tbe expression otbis countenance was composed and meditative. " Where is Lenore?' "Her time has not yet come," replied the Doctor.

11 My mind beholds her clearly," rejoined the other. "My thoughts dwell with her, :md commune with her own. In that Bym patny ef mind all love consists. Without it, the Mind passion of the heart and the senses is misleading and mischievous. They are the force, but intellect is the guide; and when their force is gone, the intellect remains true to its choice. The delight of love is in the perception of its harmonies ; and age, sickness, or absence has no power to obscure it.1' " Then, were you to see Lenore no more, it would not disturb you V asked the Doctor. " Bodily presence is not without its u«e?, answered the other, calmly. "To be a kine, you must have a subject; and the body is the snbject ol the mind. By ruling it, the mind realizes and confirms its aims and conclusions; and, on the other hand, the body, by its suggestions and limitations, sets the mind in motion and fiives it strength. Without the body, love would be a dream ; as, without the mind, it w >uld be but a sensual and promiscuous instinct. Nevertheless, love, having once attained bodily incarnation, I conceive that hence forth the actual association together ol the Jovers is of secondary importance ; though, perhaps, the mind needs to be refrenhed oc casionally by renewed intercourse with its mate, providing it. with fresh incidents and developments to consider and interpret." " Your philosophy is certainly persua sive,'1 observed Dr. Carajo. " But from thia point of view, what think you of the so-called sanctity of the marriage bond ! " It is an ingenious device for the preser vation of outward social order," said the other, "but not in itself worthy of an in tellectual man's rejpect. The laws of the mind are ovidently above the control of social laws. Were all men ruled as they onght to be. by the intellect, bonds of any kind, marriage or other, would cease to be. Households would still exist, and families would still exist, aad families would be reared; but the free intercourse ot mind with mind, with all that implies, would be admitted, and as a consequence, the passion of jealously would vanish along with other relics of barbarism. In other words, m«r riagc based upon intellectual sympathy would no longer be checked by marriages of merely material convenience ; and immora lity would disappear with the artificial morality which has created it." " A desirable consummation, Indeed," remarked Dr. Carajo. Ands» you would, without repugnance, behold Lenore in possession of another of more sympathetic intellectual endowments than yourself?'" " The question seema a Mr one," re turned the other doubtfully ; " but Ihavp, psrhups, owktsd somo essential point in my analysis'. Allowing the possibility tbat such an intellect ai you suppose mi^ht exist, I still cannot conceive him as having rights over Leuore. The fact that we have belonged to each other, has created between us something that did noc exist before, ami which cannot be removed; something neither physical nor intellectual, yet more substantial thun either. I confess it perplexes me, .and my mind is weary. I must rest awhile befoio considering ii hir ttier."

And cveu :i3 he spoko he sank in a lethargy. • The interval between this stage ana tun final one la-ted but si few minutes, but was marked liy an even greater change in the aspect oi the patient. The bodily sub stance of the man seemed in a treat mea sure to have bunk away and become traus- Incent ; ho was not fo much a spiritual object as a spiritual presence. The light in his eye had tne appearance of proceeding from some source beyond matter, and to see things which material aigbt has no cog ni«ance of. At times a slight trembling passed through him, as if his body were

shaken by the effort of some inward power to break away from its imprisonment. Hid voice, reduced almost to a whisper, never theless thrilled upon the ear with a dis tinctness and force that outdid the noisi ness of the sturdiest luDgs. "Lenore?" he exclaimed, command ingly, "come to mel1' " Hush!" said Dr. Carajo, with a frown. "She is not here."

"She Is behind that veil," returned the other : "let her come forth."

At first there was no response to this summons, but by and by the curtain was grasped from within and slowly drawn aside. In the opening appeared the figure of Lenore, white in face and figure, like a ghost obeying a ghostly mandate. As her glance met that of Dr. Carajo's patient, she faltered and uttered a low cry.

"You are dying, my love!" she said; "he has killed you!" "By no means!" said Dr. Carajo, sul lenly. "At thia moment f would buy his life with my own. Human skill has done its utmost." , , ■•'

"Do not come too near!" murmured Lenore's lover, as she advauced towards him. "We have no time to lose 1"

"Am I not yours? Do you not love me V she cried, in a voice weighted witk unshed tears, and holding out her Lauds to him, "There is a spiritual barrier between us," he said. "Do not let your JleshJy hand disregatd it. It Beemed to me that I loved you ;it seems so still. But there has never been a true union between yon and me. The license of the body, the arro gant insanity of the intellect —these parody lo«e and banish it. Can happiness be foun ded on murder? and we murdered mar riage, Lenofe !" "But I never loved him—nor he me !" she said passionately. And then, with a sweeping gesture of the arm, she pointed to Dr. Carujo. " Let him answer it what I say is not tiue."

The Doctor shrugged Us fhoulder*. " The question is a futile one," he eaid. "t>in, like God, is no respecter of person* Take it, if you will that X was justly served; her responsibility toward the covenant she broke ia the same, and thereby aho is condemned. But I deprecate this discussion, and the foolish revelation which occasioned it. If I were the person she asserts, I have long since ceased to be so. His name and his heart—bo it good or evil—arc mine no more. lam plain Dr. Cora jo, a man of science and an observer." " Your heart is at least the same in its coldness and ravengefulucss!" said Lc uore. bitterly. "Coldness! I loved you':" exclaimed Carajo, with sudden and strange vehe> mence. " I tried to win your love, but you withheld it. Miue -was no surface pas sion, to bo expressed with a How of words and 'protestations ; and because I could notspeakyoa thought me indifferent. Then in my absence you met this man and be trayed me. I would not condescend to pursue you and supplicate with you, or to seek a vulgar vengeance. I left you to the retribution of time and change. And this hour rewards me." "C.iq such love as ours bo wrong?" de manded Lenore, turning to her lover, "Is it not its own justification ?" " No, Lenore; nor mustwe seek justifica tion," answered the dying man. [' We have polluted the sacred symbol which is the image of creation. As light ia married to heat, form to substance, and truth to good ness, so ia man married to woman. The sanctity of that union is above and inde pendent of individual conditions. For the sake of one selfish pleasure should wo oppose a law in which are bound the purity and welfare of mankind ? or should we say that, because this man fails to be a worthy hug band, we may violate the warrant whereof he, whether worthy or not, is the representa tive ?"

" If the love that for three years past has been my life be wickedness," said Lenore, " then why should I desire truth and good ness !"

" l'helovewhichopposeslove of humaniiy in, in its c^eiicc, not love, tut hatred," the dying mau ans\v o red, " It is with duch lore that we heretofore loved each other; it is grounded i:i morta'ity and must pass away. Hut there is something in us that outlasts the strength of the body and the pride of in tellccs - a soul which cannot d c, aud whose lovo is real and immortal. My soul, which until now I have never known or acknow ledued, is new awake, and tills the place of deaih ; It is I!" "And do you love me still?" asked Lenore. " Whether it be a new profanation or a premise, Hove you still, he murmured ; " ony, 1 have never truly loved you until thU moment." " We shall meet hereafter," she said. " Let not your heart imagine it," he re plied ; "the wages of sin is not immortal ■happines". Pray «nly that he whom we havechietlv wrongfid be less a sufferer there by thin we ourselves." '• 1 et not that disturb you," said Dr, Caraj >, gloomily. "If what thisdyinß m»n has said' be true—and that may be 80 for aujht I can tell—yon have injured each 6! her more fatally than jou have injured me. 1 ask no more. " eaven may promise you what iuppines it will : I will not cross you there." " Farewf 11, Lenore !" said her lover, in a tone whoso solemnity overawed its tonder ne*a.

" Must I stay here alone ?" she cried out in ngony. " Let me go with you ?" "Not oo 1 I'-ather, rather that your ro*d ot retribution lies m this world. As for me, I so to a strango country, whose ways and boundariei no man knows." 'rhcr-i whs a silence. '' Ho is gone !" muttered Cr. Carajo, taming away. But Lenore pressed her hands over her he*rt. " Ho k here !" said she. —Julian Hawthorne.

The Effect of Liquor Prohibition in Kansas.

Col. Carpenter, the Collector cf Internal Kevenue, furnishc* the following figures tor the year ending Ajui! 30, 18S1, the year bfo'rc law took effect, aud the yoar eixlinj,' April 30, 18S2, the first jcar of prohibition : Ihom May 1, 18S0, to April 30, ISSI, there wore issued 1.977 reto.il liquor dealei's stamp?, 32 brewer*' pormils, and 30 whole sale liquor dealers' permits, From May 1, 1881, to April 30, 1882, there ware issued 1,787 retail liquor dealers' stamps, 21 ---brewers' permits, and 17 wholesale liquor dealers' stamps. Vhc number of retail liquor deal era' stamps issued from May 1, ISS2, to Feb. 6. ISaS, is 1,895, wholesale dealers'sta:u|.>s2.> f aud brewers' 13. It will be seen by this st temeut that, although there was a falling oil'in the first year after tho prohibition, yet the second bids fair to entirely outstrip the year previous to prok'ibititu in the number of stamps issued, There cannot be much (lo.lbt but Ibatthc trim w«y to enforce temj'eranca by law lies moro in tun fliieciioa «■£ hiuh licenses ami strict *upervision ttouia any Kttempfc at suppression :iho.;ether. This has_ been the experience everywhere in striving to control intemperance Grant lieusesito men of undoubted character, make them pay a license that will shut out the low groggeries that do the mischief, put them under strict supervision, and euforce the law absolutely,,

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, MAY W, 1885.

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