clutched her by the arm and demanded her husband's full name. "Howard Dinsmore!" It was enough. I have no recollection of how I reached the pavement, the ride home. The events of that night are as a blank to me. My friends told me, later, that I appeared as one walking in sleep; my eyes gazed without seeing the object upon which they were fixed, and my voice was as the flickering of a candle in a draught of air, now steady, anon sinking almost to extinction. Ah! said reason, the next day, and can you dethrone your king so quickly? Have you not leaped to a conclusion? Then hope alternated with despair until the hour approached when I should visit "my little victim," as my conscience would insist she was. The child would recover, said the physician, with good nursing and attention, and without any trace of injury to limb, I breathed a prayer of thanksgiving that I had not killed his child, and turned to Mrs. Dinsmore, whom, apparently, I had deeply offended by my behavior of yesterday: "Pardon me," I said, "Mrs. Dinsmore, for my vehemence of yesterday. My nerves were all unstrung at the sufferings of your child, and there are recollections associated with your name, which, when heard pronounced, wrench my heart." “My name ?” she queried. "Can you tell me why ?” "It would not interest you, Mrs. Dinsmore," I answered, for I was determined no eye should see my wound; "but I have a faint curiosity to know if you could be related to the gentleman I know of that name." "I am seeking a man of that name, my husband, Howard Dinsmore," she replied. But," I interrupted, "the unfortunate mother and child may have some interest for you otherwise, since they bear your name. "My name ?" and his face blanched. "It is Helen Dinsmore," I answered, "and her child May. God forgive you the wrong you have done them, Howard Dinsmore, and so farewell!" He seemed stunned, and only his eyes appeared to take recognition of my movement, as I held forth my hand at that parting word. He gently clasped it, and for one moment we thus stood and gazed into each other's eyes. Then we parted, never again to meet this side of eternity. The next day I left New York. Society gossiped at my sudden departure, and was satisfied when Rumor laid it to my engagement with a wealthy foreigner, and consequent hasty preparations for the nuptials. I was thankful that Dame Rumor had been slumbering "It is he, it is he !" she moaned; "the face and figure for once, and thus my love and its disastrous ending of a god, but alas! only the face and figure." "He wears upon his finger a ring of curious design and workmanship, an heirloom, he has told me ?" I went on, pitilessly for myself, for was not every confirming word a spadeful of earth upon the grave of my hopes ?" "A serpent's head, with eyes of emerald, typical of the wearer," she unhesitatingly answered. "The man who abandoned me and my babe to struggle with poverty in a foreign land. I have tracked him at last!" And a smile which made me shudder broke over her pallid face. "Where can I find him ?” she asked, after a pause. "I will send him to you," I replied, as I arose and kissed the child Good-by. In her hand I slipped a purse containing an amount ample for all their requirements, fully recognizing it must be my last visit. That night I met him in the drawing-room of a noted woman of fashion. He was late, and my party were leaving early. As his eyes met mine, there was an expression in his which made me falter, and for one instant I felt he was mine by all the ties of love; not hers, that woman who had only hate to give. A vision, fleeting as a sigh, pictured the coming years without him; an arid waste of sand, a solitary figure, desolation for me, the wanderer. "Be silent," whispered a small voice. "Enjoy the sunshine of his love; forget, if you can, that other woman's claim.” Something wrong, you will say, must exist in my moral nature, that I could for one instant thus deliberate. I will not dispute it. Put yourself, however, in escaped dissecting tongues. My king was dethroned, but the tones of his voice and the languid sweetness of his eyes have filled my heart and mind to the exclusion of all other voices, all other love-lit glances. I have kept jealous guard over the sepulchre of my hopes; for, though the man was unworthy, yet was he my king, and with spices and myrrh have I embalmed him, and in that shrine his memory laid away; and no hand but mine shall roll the stone from the entrance. Thus was Margaret Fuller's romance laid bare to me. My first thought was of self, I am sorry to say, and, with a great sob, I wailed, "Suppose it had been my Jack !" The very thought plunged me into bitter grief, and I fairly reveled in my tears. In the like situation should I have given up my Jack ? I may as well state right here that I have never yot been able to settle the question in my mind. I found Margaret sleeping calmly, I thought, and soon the physician informed me the crisis had passed, and she would recover. At the first opportunity, as a dutiful wife—and I pride myself on beying the duty of communicating what I hear of other people's concerns to my husband-I told Margaret's heart-history to Jack. "Howard Dinsmore!" he almost shouted, when I dramatically introduced the name; "why, Nell"— that's your humble servant-he's the gentleman I met on the steamer for London some years ago. His niece May, as he called her, and cousin Helen, were 'with him. going back home,' he said. There is some mistake, for Helen Dinsmore was a widow, and Howard Dinsmore is the noblest, grandest piece of manly perfection it has ever been my good fortune to meet." Now, when my Jack calls a man perfection, it means something more than common perfection, for he has told me a thousand times that he never knew but one piece of real perfection, and that was-well--I am Jack's wife, and should not betray his confidence, else I would not let my modesty stand in the way for one single instant of disclosing who that proud and happy woman is. "Let me see," mused Jack, as he moved toward his desk, "I think, in my diary of that year, I will find his address. It was some "shire" in England, I know. Ah, here it is." And so, before the sun had disappeared that day, a message was dispatched by cable to Howard Dinsmore. I I am sure my demeanor for the next seven days Margaret could but attribute to my joy over her rapid recovery, and when the day arrived that the London steamer was due, only her natural sweetness of temper made her endure the fixing and fussing and paroxysmal bursts of tears and laughter in which I indulged. Jack says I was hysterical, but Jack was in such a nervous condition himself that I have never held him accountable for that charge. I can give no coherent account of that day's proceedings. I am in a whirl yet when I think of it. I only know, in some way, I made known to her that she had misjudged Howard Dinsmore; that he power for the crime of one in whose veins flowed the Dinsmore blood. Mr. Dinsmore assured the dying man that he would forfeit any hopes and aspirations of his own until he had found the deserted ones, and made every reparation possible. Naturally, upon meeting Margaret, he felt, as an honorable man, he must not ask for her hand-in fact, had best keep aloof from her-until his mission was crowned with success. He was impressed, by Margaret's coldness and abrupt farewell, that her knowledge of his cousin's dying a felon had placed a gulf between them. Then followed a rumor of her engagement to another, and, in bitterness of spirit, he sailed for England, as Jack had stated. Margaret Dinsmore has changed but little. A happy light now finds its home in her eyes, and, when her gaze falls upon her husband, there is an expression about the lips which leads me to think she whispers "My King." AN ELECTRO-MAGNET PLAN T.- In breaking a twig of a plant that has been named Phytollaca electrica by scientists, on account of its very marked electro-magnetic properties, the hand receives a shock resembling the sensation produced by an induction coil. It is said that birds or insects are never seen on this plant. As the soil on which it grows contains no magnetic metal, such as iron, cobalt or nickel, it is evident that the plant itself possesses the electrical property. According to the New York Medical Times, experiments made on this plant showed that a small compass was affected by it at a distance of about twenty feet. On a near approach the needle vibrated, and, finally, began to revolve quite rapidly. On receding from the plant the phenomenon was repeated in an inverse order. THE SONG-SPARROW'S NEST. and Jack were below, and that I was going down to entertain Jack for an hour or so. I must admit I deviated from the truth on that point, for, naturally, I was burning with impatience to have him entertain me with the solution of Margaret's mistake. I have heard people, in many instances, glibly talk of glorified spirits, and when I saw the enrapt countenance of Mr. Dinsmore, as he ascended the stairs, I felt, with a tinge of reverence, that my mortal eyes had gazed upon one, indeed. The explanation was simple. A scapegrace cousin of Howard Dinsmore's bore the same name and family likeness, upon whose footsteps "disaster followed fast, and followed faster," until, some years after the desertion of his family, he was found by Mr. Dinsmore in a felon's cell, and in a dying condition. The ring he gave his cousin, and implored him to find his wife and child, and make every atonement in his FADED INK.-A useful discovery is announced whereby the faded ink on old parchments may be so restored as to render the writing perfectly legible. The process consists in moistening the paper with water and passing over the lines of writing a brush, which has been wet in a solution of sulphide of ammonia. The writing will immediately appear quite dark in color, and this color, in the case of parchment, it will preserve. On paper. however, the color gradually fades again, though it may be restored at pleasure by the application of the sul phide. The iron which enters into the ink's composition is transformed by reaction into the black sulphide. ANCIENT GREEKS IN MODERN CYPRUS. BY A. L. RAWSON. I WAS CALLED to Cyprus in 1874 to do some special art | How many nations or peoples are represented in the work for a Consul, and found now and then an hour or inhabitants of Cyprus it would be difficult to say, and two for looking about among the various peoples who still more difficult to ascertain. have been thrown into that island as an editor throws his The Greeks have preserved some, if not many, of the letters which they gave me to their friends or relatives in | Scio, Zante, Candia or other islands, but I did not have an introduction to any Greek in Cyprus. The favor of the Consul who employed me was sufficient for all my purposes. The Consul is a little king among Orientals, because of a tradition that he once, in the Roman Age, represented the Senate or the Emperor, and was almost supreme in power. Ideas seldom die there, and the people stand in awe before such a dignitary to-day very much as they did when Consuls were real potentates. Modern politics has reduced them to the condition of mere clerks under their superiors at court or at home, but the people among whom they live do not realize that. Being occupied in sketching about in many different parts of the island for more than seven weeks, it was my good fortune in nearly every place to have an hour or two after the sketches were made to look around for any other subject that might seem inviting. In one of those evenings I had the pleasure of meeting Perikles-the veritable and undoubtedly genuine Perikles-who proved to be a chatty, knowing little fellow about eight or nine years old. After indulging in a ripple of gossip he informed me that his father was neighbor and friend to the Consul's chief digger, and if my excellency would please he should be glad to show me the way to his house, where he knew I would be welcome, for his father, Dimitri, his mother, Hypatia, and sisters, who knew what I was doing for His Reverence the Consul, would be only too happy to see some of the sketches. I could not help thinking that if the sisters were as handsome as girls as he was as a boy I should be well paid for the time in calling. He was sunburned to a pale chocolate, which made him look as if he wore a mask and seven-button gloves-stockings to match-for the pure white skin, under his shirt, which was visible now and then, showed in strong contrast. I accepted his offer as guide, and was soon following in a pathway among trees of oranges, figs pomegranates and other fruits, including a few date palms rising high above the others. When we entered the village I saw faces at the doors, at windows high up in the walls, or peeping around corners with curious glances at the stranger, and met a group of girls of, I suppose, from fifteen to eighteen years old, dressed in bright tints, merrily laughing, and who giggled as I passed them, who seemed to say by their looks and manners, "We know you make pictures, and don't see why you need to look any further for a subject, for are we not here ?" How very different this girlish greeting was-so simple, natural and pleasant-from one given me in a Turkish village a day or two before, when the women, following their custom and rigid social law, kept their vails close across the nose under the eyes, and stared at me with an air and manner intended to mean, "Ah! here is another Christian dog" (Kelb nussranee). One of the young ladies snarled out the Arabic epithet, while one of the elder ones growled in Turkish, "The ungrateful!" that is to say, ungrateful to Allah (Kyopek nazaran and eylyk beelmez); and one pretty little plump vixen lifted her vail and spit at me two or three times, as I thought on purpose to give me a glimpse of the fruits of paradise, as sampled in her cherry lips and pearly teeth, which, of course, are forbidden to such unbelievers as myself. The ancient mass of wrinkles before mentioned reproved her exposure sharply, and, it is just possible, a trifle enviously. I escaped alive, as many others have who were compelled to run the gantlet of Cupid and religious fanaticism rolled into one, in the form of a young and bewitching maid. Yes, the Greek girls were decidedly in manners an agreeable contrast to the Turkish ladies, and made me feel quite at home, although the recollection that my home was nearly six thousand miles away sent a sharp twinge through my bosom, where are stored memories of fair faces and beautiful forms of girls in my native land. And here I must record my vote for home products-domestic goods--as superior in quality and finish to any imported or sample of foreign make I ever saw. Those were my sentiments, as I studied the features of the Greek maidens, the Arab beauties, and the Turkish flowers of the harem-the far-famed Circassian gems. The traveler in foreign lands must ever school himself to indifference to all that is said and done to him short of actual bodily harm, even to bearing sarcasm and intended insults, without showing that he feels hurt, or any resentment. His revenge, if he is an artist, can be worked out in the quiet of his studio at home; or, if an author,' he can craftily color up his intensely truthful notes, made on the spot, and scatter ridicule, sarcasm and detraction throughout the civilized world “and the rest of mankind," unless it happens that he is disposed to weigh the circumstances, and indulge in large charity toward those who have been for centuries the creatures of misrule and mental slavery. For the Turks are but poorly fitted by nature for the work of ruling, and their natural faculties have been systematically warped the wrong way for any beneficial results to their subject peoples. Perikles-yes, the namesake of the ancient great and good Perikles-led the way through the narrow and crooked street until he found his father's door, when he said, "Enter; you are welcome here." We passed through a hall into a yard, from which many doors opened into rooms, and in which were a well, an oven, many jars of olive oil, wine, and implements used about the house or in the field. In a moment he spied his father, sitting in a chair tilted back against the wall. Touching his arm lightly, he said, "Papa, here is a guest. Rousing at once from his afternoon nap, the elder Greek rose and welcomed me to a seat, and offered to have water brought to wash my hands and face, and asked if I were hungry or thirsty? In Cyprus, where one of the few kinds of wine that is really deserving the name of wine is made, and which is called Commandery, one may well be supposed to be ever thirsty, so I accepted the invitation, and a glass of wine. Red wine, dark and deep in color-about two tablespoonfuls-was brought by a pretty girl. Ganymede serving nectar, thought I, and I shall soon feel myself one of the Olympian few who really have tasted the divine liquor. How precious it was !-only a spoonful or two, and in such a delicate glass, so nicely adapted in style to serve such delicious wine in. The pretty little miss smiled so sweetly as she handed me the glass, and wished me much pleasure in the drinking. Oh, what a happy moment! In compliment to her, I asked if her name was Aspasia, and she replied, "Oh, no. I am Klutia (Clytie); Aspasia is my elder sister." Then I lifted the glass, and once more looked at the rich, deep-red flask of condensed sunlight, and remembered at that instant the aphorism which old grannies so often repeat, "Look not on the wine when it is red," or words to that effect, and, in the next breath, after sipping that wine, I had discovered where that saying was first used, and why. In Cyprus, in a Greek village, in an afternoon, when a traveler who was really thirsty, and a kind-hearted host handed him a glass of wine, such as was given me, and he drank it at a gulp. And then-O shades of all the Olympian gods at once!—gracious! goodness! Of all the bitter, nasty, puckery aloes and rhubarb, nauseous and detestable (my book of synonyms has lost a leaf at this place, so please excuse other terms which might have relieved outraged nature, and which were impossible at the time) mixtures that ever touched the lips and agonized the palate of a poor defenseless mortal! And oh, sympathizing reader, please try to imagine me sipping that horrible stuff and smiling thanks, bowing to mine host, and keeping a straight face, hiding my internal agonies in the hope of making myself agreeable to the family and so be able to learn something to my advantage. There came some little relief to my pangs in the shape of an invitation from Miss Hypatia, who at that moment came into the porch, and who was very pretty, to take a chair, in these words (said in Greek), “O my papa, do you not see the stranger is standing, and no one offers him a seat! I will bring a chair." And she did bring from the corner a square-framed, leather-bottomed wooden curiosity, like those used by our grandparents in New England, and which would have delighted any New York dealer in antique furniture. So I took a seat near Dimitri, but where I could see the younger members of the family, in whom I began to feel some interest on account of the beauty of Hypatia. I watched her as she went about putting things in their places and speaking in low tones to her brothers and sisters, and I am almost persuaded to say that her mouth was as near perfection in form and color as it is possible in youth. Of course, if I should say that the other features were equally worthy of mention, there might be ground for surmising that I had been hit by one of Cupid's darts. Cupid keeps his darts flying constantly, and in every direction, in Cyprus, perhaps because, as it is said, his mother was a native of that island. But I was not hit in a vital part then, as will soon appear. For, however lovely the young Greek maid was, her loveliness could not have concerned me, for Perikles was kind enough to inform me that she had a lover, and that she was betrothed to him. The marriage, he said, would be solemnized in the early Autumn, probably in September, or October at the latest. Just then the little Klutia shouted, "O Hypatia, here comes Thukydides !" which almost made my hair stand up under my hat (a very difficult thing, for my head is bald), for that name revived many memories of Greek history, manners and customs of old, and-if it should be really he! But it was only a young, finely grown man of about twenty, or it may be a year or two holder, handsome as a statue, and alive in every muscle. His eye rested first in reverence on Dimitri, then on Hypatia, whom he saluted in very low tones, "O my rose !" and I suppose there was a kiss, for they disappeared inside the house for a moment. When they returned, hand in hand, they were laughing at some pleasantry of his, and, after whispering to the other children, approached Dimitri and requested permission to go to the Green with the young people for a dance. A dance, and I not invited! I had not long to wait, for Perikles was a very thoughtful young chap. With a roguish twinkle in his eye, he whispered in my ear, "My sister Aspasia would willingly go to the Green with you as an escort, for her lover is away at Baffa (Paphos), and without you she must stay at home.” "But," said I, "dancing would be awkward for one who does not know the step; and then, I should prefer to look on, and make a sketch while the young folks are enjoying themselves." "Yes," he replied, "you will be interested, for it is the national dance that they propose for this evening." I then felt a delightful sensation. What if the classic days of Greece were about to become a reality before my eyes, and I should see something of what the poets and historians had written about so finely? Aspasia appeared in a very pretty dress, bright-tinted, close fitting, and, if I had not known that she was a Greek I might have mistaken her for a Parisian. She wore her dress with a grace which is said to be peculiar to the Parisian lady, but which I find is native to the best classes in nearly all peoples. I felt honored by being her escort as proxy for the absent Demosthenes, and I assure my readers that I did not once attempt to rival that invisible orator. How could I, a gray beard of nearly sixty, hope to rival the peculiar eloquence of a youth of twenty-five ? The very idea is preposterous, so, of course, I did not even try. What I did say is not worth recording, and, besides, it has slipped my memory. She was so considerate of me that, instead of joining in the dance with the other boys and girls, she staid by me and kindly gave me the names of the prettiest girls and the finest boys, and quietly added, "But I hope you will see my Demosthenes. He is a model. No statue is in finer proportion, and his voice is clear as the tones of the organ in the church." I suppose she meant when singing some familiar song, but I did not ask for particulars. What did I care, so long as she let me hear the music of her voice? I could form an opinion for myself on its likeness to the tones of an organ or of a bird. As But In the meantime, I was sketching figures, groups, details; now a fine head, then a handsome arm, and my paper was soon covered with them in pencil outline, touched here and there with water-color, where a bright tint required it to aid the memory in future work. I touched a bright red or blue, or other colored scarf or skirt, or headdress, Miss Aspasia would explain, “That is Erminia," or whoever it was, for my edification. when I hit upon the folds of her sister's scarf, and touched it with a bit of bright orange, she said, softly, "Ah, there is my sister Hypatia, and Thukydides, who is ever so near her! They are betrothed, and seem happy as the day is long. We shall lose her so soon! lover belongs at Nicosia, a day's journey from here." The moon was just past the full, and late in the evening I said it would be necessary for me to leave the young folks to their pastime, and Aspasia at once arranged her headdress and scarf for a walk to her father's house, where I left her with her mother, who gave me her blessing as I turned away toward my home at the Consul's. Her On the way from the Green, Miss Aspasia was chatty about her sister and her expected wedding. Among other things, she said that, besides the usual ceremony in the church which was required by the law, there was another which was also required by custom, and this by many was considered of more binding force than the other. Soon after the marriage in the church, a day or two, or, perhaps, a week or two-for the time must be at or about the full moon -the married pair and their nearest friends and relatives, who may be specially invited, go late in the evening to some one of the ruined ancient Greek chapels, of which there are so many in the island-and there is one not far from Aspasia's home, say an hour's walk-and there in the moonlight the bride pledges herself to her husband anew, putting her ring |