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near; and at the first tremor of the uncertain sons come with their wonted regularity, and land the cities are filled with terror; the people summer feeds us every year as it fed the Asfy to the fields; home, ease, and grandeur are syrians and the Greeks; the ocean keeps its abandoned and forgotten; the intellectual and appointed bounds; the tides ebb and flow with the feeble-minded, the weak and the strong, calm monotony; and the great sun, whether tremble together, or when the danger is over gas or fire, cloud or comet, is always the same burst into a wild mood of insane hilarity. to us. And hence history assures us that even

Will the earthquake in all its terrors ever the terrible earthquake is bound by the unvisit us? Will our cities ever be shorn of their changing laws of nature to a single path, from prosperity, reduced to heaps of crumbling ruins, which it is not permitted to diverge. and made as desolate as deserted Messina ? And history marks out upon the map of the Must our teeming ports be swept by great tidal world where that path lies. It is one so nicely waves, while their gay and busy throngs are defined and delicately drawn as to produce the hurried far into the deep, and sea-monsters most striking distinctions; yet it is as clear as sport in their shattered mansions? Is New the Gulf-stream and regular as the monsoons. York ever to be humbled as was commercial | Rome and Naples, for example, lie close to the Lisbon in the last century, or Pittsburg and path of the earthquake, and have been subject Chicago tossed from their foundations like the to slight shocks for centuries, yet they are probwealthy cities of the Calabrian plain? Must ably as safe as London or Paris; Messina lies San Francisco become a new Callao, and sink above the path, and has been torn by frequent into a mound of sand beneath the raging waves convulsions. It winds sinuously under the seas, of the treacherous Pacific ?

visiting certain islands with disaster and wholly If we have ever for a moment entertained sparing others. It penetrates to the northern such fears, history at once reassures us. His latitude of Niphon, Kamchatka, and the Arctory, mother of science, points to the unchang- tic mountains; it reaches to Lower California, ing unity of nature. - Man and his creations Yet San Francisco is as safe as Rome or Florvary, fade, and die. Great empires fall before ence, and the North Pacific shore as the coast moral revolutions; wealthy cities sink into sol- of England. itudes with the revulsions of commerce and the History, in fact, assures us that ours is not alterations in the course of trade; nations that one of the lands of the earthquake; that our were once strong in intellect and vigorous with exemption from its terrors is as certain as that the elements of progress have become the prey the seasons will not vary or the summer fail to of savages and barbarians; and all that is hu- come; that maternal nature has sheltered us man is liable to change. Not so the Divine from the destroyer that we may enjoy her gifts work. The laws of nature are immutable. at leisure and unfold her vast resources by inFrom age to age the monsoons have blown cessant toil; and that He who holds the earthacross the Indian seas, and the Gulf-stream quake in check has ordained that we may do pierced the Atlantic with its tepid wave; the His work unimpeded by the perpetual horror stars rise and set as they did of old ; the sea- I that broods over other lands.

A CHILD'S WISDOM.

BY ALICE CARY. WHEN the cares of day are ended,

Garden corners bright with roses, And I take my evening rest,

Garden borders set with mint, Of the windows of my chamber

Garden beds, wherein the maidens This is that I love the best;

Sow their seeds, as love doth hint, This one facing to "he hill-tops

To some rhyme of mystic charming And the orchards of the west.

That shall come back all in priut.

All the woodlands, dim and dusky,

All the fields of waving grain,
All the valleys sprinkled over

With the drops of sunlit rain-
I can see them through the twilight,

Sitting here beside my pane.

Ah! with what a world of blushes

Then they read it through and through,
Weeding out the tangled sentence

From the commas of the dew:
Little ladies, choose ye wisely,

Lest some day the choice ye rue.

I can see the hilly places,

With the sheep-paths trod across; See the fountains by the way-sides,

Each one in her house of moss Holding up the mist above her

Like a skein of silken floss.

I can see a troop of children

Merry-hearted boys and girls-
Eyes of light and eyes of darkness,

Feet of coral, legs of pearls,
Racing toward the morning school-house

Half a bead before their curls.

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MY ENEMY'S DAUGHTER.
CHAPTER IX.

| and we could call for you and take you with

us. I must marry somebody with money." LILLA WOULD SERVE ME.

“Suppose, in the mean time, somebody withM EANWHILE I am free to own that I out money comes in the way, and you fall in MI liked the company of my pretty pagan; in- love with him?" deed it brightened life very much to me. When “Love? Nonsense! Love is a luxury beI was most lonely and unfriended these people yond my means, Sir. Besides, do you know, I had been strangely kind to me, and our common think debts and poverty make some of us coldpoverty and struggles made us—I was almost hearted or no-hearted, and we are not capable about to say unnaturally-certainly unusually of falling in love. Seriously, I don't think I familiar and friendly. Of course no young man could be.” of my age could ever be wholly indifferent to “Then I hope no friend of mine will fall in the company of a pretty and attractive girl; and love with you." I really grew quite fond of Lilla. I was not in “I am sure I hope not-unless he has monthe least in love with her; nor did she, I feel ey. I don't believe I have such a thing as a assured, ever think of me in the light of a pos- heart." sible lover ; but we were very friendly and fa- “You ought to have told me all this before, miliar, and indeed, in a sort of qniet, confident Lilla. How do you know what agony you may way, attached to each other. A happy Bohe- be inflicting on my heart ?” mian independence of public opinion emanci- I thought she would have laughed at this, but pated our movements. She and I generally she looked at me quite gravely, and even symwalked out together on Sundays in the desolate pathetically. suburbs, or across the swamp which was under- “Ah, no!" she said, quietly; “ you are safe going slow conversion into a park. Sometimes, enough—from me at least; I can see that." as I came home in the evening after giving some “Why, Miss Lyndon? Pray tell me." music-lessons-or, for that matter, tuning a pi- “Don't ask me; but don't think me a fool. ano—I met her going toward town, and I turned Have I not eyes? Can't I see that your heart back and walked with her. Much amazed I used is gone long ago in some disastrous way or othto be at first by her close knowledge of the short- er, and that you can't recover it; and don't you est way to get every where, and of every shop think I am sorry for you? Yes, as much as if where the best things to eat, or wear, or drink you were my brother.” were to be had at the lowest possible prices. “Ah, Lilla, you have far more heart than

Our talk was generally lively enough; but you would have me think. Not your eyes saw, there were days when I became so saddened by but your heart.” my memories and my dull prospects that I And we neither spoke any more on that subreally could not brighten; and then Lilla, inject. But I knew that under my pretty pagan's order to encourage me, told me all kinds of plump bosom there beat a heart which the love stories of her own occasional trials and dis- of lobster-salad, and the hopes of a rich hustresses, as well as of people she had known, band, and all the duty of dodging duns, could who, having been reduced to the very depths not rob of its genial blood-warmth. of despair, fell in with some lucky fortune, and Lilla had, like most London girls of her class were raised at once to high position and afflu- and temperament, a passion for the theatre. ence. Most of those stories, to be sure, were She knew the ways of every theatre, and sometold of young women reduced to serve in shops, thing about the private lives of all the actors whom some men of enormous wealth fell in love and actresses, and who was married to whom, with and married; so that I could scarcely de- and who were not married at all, and who was rive much encouragement from their applica- in debt, and who made ever so much money in tion to my own personal condition. But it was the year, and spent it or hoarded it, as the case easy to see with what a horizon fortune had might be. She pointed you out a small cigarbounded poor Lilla's earthly ambition. She shop, and told you it was kept by the father of had no genius for any work that did not direct- Miss Vashner, the great tragic actress; she called ly conduce to personal adornment, and she had your attention to a small coal-and-potato store, a very strong desire for wealth and ease. and told you it was there Mr. Wagstaffe, the

"My only chance,” she said frankly one day, great manager, began his career; she glanced “is to marry somebody who has money. I am at a beery, snuffy little man in the street, and sick of this place and this life. If I married a whispered that he was the husband of the dashrich green-grocer even, I should be far, far hap- ing Violet Schönbein, who played the male parts pier than I am. I should have a home for my in the burlesqnes and pantomimes, and whose mother, and a cart to drive about in on Sun- figure was the admiration of London. Her indays, when the green-grocer did not want it terest did not lie so much in the stately operafor his business; and then mother and I would houses, or even the theatres where legitimate leave him at home on the Sundays to smoke in tragedy yet feebly protested its legitimacy and the back-kitchen while we went out for a drive;divine right, as in the small pleasant houses where comedians and piquant actresses could / me entirely. She had so often told me what always fill the benches. She knew where the her dreams and hopes for her daughter were, best seats were, and how to make use of an that she knew so poor a caitiff as myself would order to most advantage; and, indeed, seemed never be mean enough to play Marplot by makhardly ever to have gone to a theatre except in ing love to Lilla. We were all poor together, the company of somebody armed with such a and Mrs. Lyndon felt that hawks would not missive. She had been to parties of all kinds pick hawks' eyes out. -to Kew, to Richmond, to Vauxhall (yes, I Little or nothing in this story turns upon my think there was a Vauxhall then), to Green- pupil-teaching of Lilla. In a direct sense, nowich, to Dulwich, to Rosherville. She ap- thing came of it. I mention it here only to peared to have an intimate knowledge of all explain the fact that Lilla and her mother got places where supper was to be most comforta- to think themselves deeply indebted to me, and bly and cheaply had in the neighborhood of that Lilla in particular was determined to make each theatre. She had been to the Derby; me some return. and she never missed seeing the Queen going One evening I was walking rather listlessly to open Parliament, or even the Lord Mayor's along Sloane Street, feigning to myself that I Show. She knew all about the great people had business in town, when I met Lilla returnof London--the Duchess of Sutherland, Lady ing homeward. She was all flushed and beamPalmerston, and the like; and, by some strangeing, evidently under the influence of some piece process of information, she often used to get to of splendid good news. know beforehand when grand balls were given “I have such news for you !" she said. “I in the neighborhood of Belgrave Square or have been to my uncle's, and I have talked to Park Lane, and she loved to go and watch at him about you.” the doors to see the ladies pass in. Her uncle, “About me ?" she told me, had often promised to take her to “Yes. I always wanted to speak to him the Ladies' Gallery of the House of Commons about you, and I made up my mind to go up to hear a debate, but as yet he had not carried specially to-day and do it. I told him all out his promise. He took her to the National about you; how you were living in our house, Gallery and the Royal Academy's Exhibition; and how kind you had always been to mamma but she did not much care about these places and me—which I'm sure we don't forgetof entertainment, and could not tell the name whenever we needed it; and Heaven knows of any picture or painter afterward. Mr. Lyn- we always do need it, for we never yet were don, M.P., clearly wanted to impress her with able to pay any thing at the right time.” the necessity of some sort of mental culture, for “Well, well, pass over all that, and come he sent her a new piano and a heap of books, back to Mr. Lyndon." and made her promise to learn. She might “Yes, I told him all about you, and how have mastered most studies quickly enough had you were better than a colony of sons to mamshe but shown the same aptitude for them which ma, and a whole schoolful of brothers to me, she had for picking up the private histories of and how you teach me this and that-every actresses and great ladies, for turning and trim- thing in fact. I can tell you your ears ought ming old dresses, for reviving decayed bonnets, to have tingled, for such praise as I gave you and for stimulating fat porter, by the applica- mortal man never yet deserved. I told him tion of soda, into a ghastly likeness of bottled what a singer you were-ever so much better stout.

than Mario, I said; at which I promise you he I thought her naturally so clever, and indeed siniled very grimly, and grumbled out that he I felt such a warm interest in her, that I set to had heard of too many singers who were ever work to teach her something. The piano she so much better than Mario. But I told him plaved very badly, and that I could teach her; that you were, and no mistake. And then I singing I was likewise qualified to instruct her said you wanted to get on the stage, only that in; and French I spoke fuently enough. These, you had no friends; at which he smiled again, then, I offered, and in fact was determined, to and said a man who could sing better than Mateach her; and she was very glad to learn, and, rio didn't much stand in need of friends." when she was in humor for it, very quick and “Well, but, Lilla, I don't quite see." . docile. . What she went about teaching in the “Don't you ? No, I dare say you don't; families where she had tried to be governess I but I just do. Why, did I never tell you that never could guess. Just now I was glad she my uncle knows all the great swells about the knew so little, and that there were some things theatres ? Oh yes. He once had a share in a I could teach her. I had nothing to do half theatre with a tremendous swell, Lord Loreine, my time; I was lonely and unfriended; these and he adores operas and singers, and he gives people had been kind to me, as indeed kind- dinners at Greenwich to prima donnas. He is ness was a part of their nature, and I felt so constantly behind the scenes every where-odd grateful that I was only too glad to have any places for him to go to, I have often told him chance of showing my gratitude. So I became -and every great singer who comes out he alLilla's music-master and French teacher when ways meets. Who is Reichstein ? Is it a man I could and when she would; and Mrs. Lyn- or a woman?". don was delighted. The good woman trusted! “Reichstein is a woman."

“Who is she?"

and worldly girl would be very careful indeed A singer-a great success in Paris, I'm not to weaken any influence she might have, told. I don't know much about her-hardly not to discount any future concessions, by askany thing, in fact. But she is new in Paris, ing his good offices for another. Therefore, and I believe a success."

while I attached not the slightest importance “Well, he has been to Paris-indeed, he to the promised influence, and would not have only came home last night-and he is in such availed myself of it were it really to make my a state about Reichstein, who is to come out in fortune in an hour, I took good care, the reader London and make a wonderful success. I was may well believe, to let Lilla see that I was not ashamed to confess that I never heard of Reich- ungrateful. Nor did I dash her little pride and stein before, and didn't know, in fact, whether triumph by telling her that I would not go to it was a man or a woman; and besides, I told see her uncle. But I temporized; and fortune him I wanted to talk about you, and not about gave me a ready way of doing it. I had been Reichstein."

for some little time in negotiation about an en“What did he say?"

gagement to join a company who were to give “He laughed, and said “Reichstein could do concerts in some of the provincial cities and more for your friend' (my friend, you under-towns; and this very day I had accepted the stand) than I could.' In fact, he was in such terms, and duly signed the conditions. I had a delightful good-humor that I might have said therefore to leave town at once, and should any thing to him to-day. You are to come and probably be away for two or three months at see him. Oh yes, you are; you'll find him very the least. friendly."

This therefore gave me a satisfactory plea for “But, indeed, Lilla—"

| postponing my visit to Mr. Lyndon. “No, no; I can't hear any modest plead-1 Lilla was a little cast down; but as she knew ings. You are to come; I am to bring you. I had long been anxious to secure this very enYou may be sure he'll like you; and, do you gagement-my first of any note--she brightened know, I really begin to think your fortune is up immediately, and gave me her warm conmade. Perhaps you may sing as primo tenore gratulations. with what's-her-name, Reichstein, some time. “When I get back, Lilla, you shall make And I shall go to hear you, and fling a bouquet my fortune," to you-mind, not to her-so be sure you keep | “How glad I shall be! Do you know that it for yourself; and then you must redeem your I really hope you may not quite take the provpromise, and take me to the Derby."

inces by storm, and so find the way made clear “Hear me swear! You shall accompany me to you, without my having any thing to do with to the Derby. We'll have a carriage and, at it? I do, indeed. I want so much to be the least, four horses the very first Derby-day after means of doing some good for you." I have sung as primo tenore with Mlle. Reich “You need not fear, Lilla. Fortune will be

in no hurry to interfere with your kindly pur“Well, you may laugh now; but I promise pose.” you I'll make you keep your word. Far more “But stop. I have actually done something unlikely things have happened. But now tell for you already. I have given you a name." me when you are coming to see my uncle.” I “Indeed! How is that?"

I had not the remotest idea of presenting “Well, of course you can't call yourself myself or being presented to Lilla's uncle. All Banks when you go on the stage. Banks I had heard of him pictured him to me as a cold, would never do; there couldn't be a great purse-proud, selfish, sensuous man-not, indeed, Banks. Then you always say you never incapable of doing a generous thing for a poor would consent to take any ridiculous Italian dependent, but quite incapable of feeling any name." respect for poverty of any kind. His photo-1 “Never.” graph, which Lilla often showed me, quite con-' “Well, I have given you a delightful name, firmed my notions of him. Egotism and pride which is all your own, by the simplest process were traced in every line of the face-of the in the world. Temple Banks is absolutely ristraight square forehead, of the broad jaw- diculous; people would always keep calling even the unmistakable sensuousness of the full you Temple Bar. Now don't be angry." lips and the wide mouth did not soften the gen- “Indeed I am not." eral hardness of the expression. I can not tell “You got quite flushed when I laughed at why, but I always detested the man. Patron- your name, though; but no matter. Leave age of any kind I must have hated; but to be out the Banks altogether, and there you are patronized by this rich man was utterly out of -Emanuel Temple! What can be prettier the question.

and softer ? All liquids, positively. Well, I Yet I could not but feel grateful for the have made you Emanuel Temple, and nothing kindly manner in which poor Lilla had en- else. I spoke of you to my uncle as Emanuel deavored to serve me. This was surely disin- Temple. He has written down your name in terestedness on her part. She so often had to his memorandum-book as Emanuel Temple. I solicit favors of her uncle upon her own ac- have launched you as Emanuel Temple, and count, that one might have imagined a shrewd Emanuel Temple you shall remain."

stein.”

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