'I certainly will not try to defend him' Edward," she tremblingly replied; "yet you know yourself that the difference in religious sentiments- her Catholic education -" "I know nothing about it," he flamed up, nothing whatever about it, and if I did, such a reason would never make any difference with my decision. I have also made up my mind in relation to our - to your daughter," he corrected the word with a visible scorn in his tone, "she is to marry the second son of Charles Seton." "Charles Seton!" exclaimed his wife in a shocked and terrified tone, for the young man in question had the reputation of being a gambler and a libertine; "how can you think of such a thing?" Mr. Mordant cut her short by the repetition of his determination to marry his daughter to the young libertine, and turned away. Mrs. Mordant stood rooted to the spot, pale and sick at heart. "I know how to overrule all childish objections, especially from you," said her husband scornfully, turning back. "I shall be obeyed, and if you have not taught your daughter obedience, rest assured that I shall. As to Louis, I am only waiting for certain intelligence which I have reason to expect, to "Mr. Windermere, madam," a servant, stepping out on the veranda at this moment, announced. 66 Very agreeable!" sneered Mordant. "You see, madam, that I know how to value the interesting acquaintances which you make in my absence.' The poor trembling wife choked back her tears, striving to recover some external composure before meeting her visitor. The young artist was already too well versed in the conditions of the family not to perceive at a glance that there was difficulty between his host and hostess. At once assuming a careless demeanor, he merely bade good morning, remarking that he had only called to go again, as he was about making a flying visit to some of the mountain districts farther north on business of importance, and should be absent several days. 64 'You will be back again in two weeks, I trust," remarked Mordant. I should very much regret your absence from our festive gathering, which we are intending to have about that time to celebrate a joyous family event. Be assured we should scarcely enjoy it without your presence." Windermere felt as if a blow had fallen upon his breast at these words. An intuitive perception of their meaning smote his heart like a dagger thrust. He had, however, mingled too much with the world, not to be able to preserve his composure, and with a great effort he avoided the betrayal of his emotions to the keen and lowering eyes that he knew were suspiciously watching him. With the same careless tone he had assumed on his entrance, he' inquired what the fortunate event might be, which was to call forth such distinguished display. The answer of Mordant confirmed the presentiment which he intuitively felt, but with a calm and smiling demeanor he accepted the invitation of Mr. Mordant, promising to be back at the appointed time. He took his leave without seeing Helen, for which he was only too glad, for to meet her now in the presence of witnesses he felt would be too much for his composure and assumed indifference. With a bow and a haughty "good morning," he departed. During his visit, Mrs. Mordant had succeeded in attaining some degree of composure, and turning to her husband, "Has the time for the marriage of our daughter then actually been appointed and made public?" she inquired. The time of the marriage of your daughter," he emphatically answered, "is determined on. It will take place two weeks from to-morrow evening." "And to Charles Seton?" "Your daughter will be married on that evening to Charles Seton, madam." "It is as unnatural for you as it is insulting to me," exclaimed Mrs. Mordant, in a roused tone, noticing only the emphatic "your daughter," in the reply of her husband, "thus to cast obloquy upon your children. Who is there that would not recognize Louis from his striking resemblance to you?' If this slight resemblance binds me to certain natural duties towards Louis, I hope, madam, that the entire dissimilarity of your daughter to myself will absolye me from any towards her," he sneered. Mrs. Mordant trembled with disgust and pain; answer him she could not, and he went on in a still sharper tone: "You appear to be satisfied with very slight foundations for your heavy structure of natural duties. Why do you not insist that I owe them to your new friend who has just left us? People remark on the striking resemblance of his eyes to mine. This excellent young man ! about whom I can learn nothing from any of my friends, or any one else, but whom you, with your usual discretion, have taken to your heart as if he were known to every one. He When Mordant was desirous of wounding the feelings of another, the weapon was wholly indifferent to him, so that it would only cut. He selected Windermere at this moment because he had exhausted and dulled the weapon - her son. could no further wound her through him, as fortunately he was not dependent on his father for his support, his mother's private fortune being amply sufficient to aid him all that she might desire or that was necessary for him. It was necessary for Mordant to insult his wife in some manner, and he chose that nearest at hand. she had recovered her strength and courage, and turning on him with a noble dignity, she answered, But I have received Mr. Windermere as a guest of this house should be received, and because he was introduced by one to whom you have freely opened our doors. If you have cause to suspect that his social position is not such as to warrant his intimacy here, it belongs to you to ascertain the fact. But it appears that you, by the invitation you have just given him to a wedding-party of which I myself knew nothing, are yourself satisfied on the point. She left the room. Mordant was silent; no reply was at hand, and he did not attempt one. There is in the honor and dignity of a true and noble woman, a power to awe the most courageous, and before which the most audacious and reckless feel conquered. To be continued. Another great leader has gone to his sleep of glory, another radiant star has gone out from our firmament of brilliant intellects. Sad is the task to record the death of the champion of freedom, the defender of the rights of man. Enriching the list of martyrs-Lyon, Lander, Ellsworth, Baker, Webster, Taylor, Stevens, last comes Kearney to crown the sacrificial rites of Liberty. Strange, mysterious and mournful, that if there arises a spirit more brave, more distinguished for the attractive and admir able qualities of the general, or leader, that spirit on the bloody field takes its flight to God, leaving us in gloomy despondency to compare his worth with the deficiencies of many of those remaining! If there is one who transcends others in zeal and skill, at once an obscurity of vis ion comes over those who should see his merits, and favors are showered on those who teach and act to perfection the art named by Dickens, "Of how not to do it." Jerseymen, whose proudest boast he was and is. He was made, after six months' delay, a Brigadier General, commanding four thousand raw, half officered troops. He passed nobly through twelve or more engagements in this sadly protracted and ill conducted war. His division was never broken; his men never faltered - they worshipped him, they trusted him. If Kearney led-and he always led, he was not cautious, but successful and energetic there rushed his intrepid warriors. Never a man flinched, never a cheek paled, but tireless, patient, hopeful, immutable as fate, he rode first in every advance, first to every relief, reconnoitering in person, surveying with his skilful eye every field, calculating every chance, ubiquitous. 66 Kearney, our hero," was the shout with which his loving hearts welcomed him from his peerless reconnoissance of the foe. Kearney, our hero," was the cheer that went up from quivering lips when he dashed into the gap of Reno's troops left flank, when he went with his heart in his face and his soul in his eyes to see, to know all his duty, to seize upon every advantage and arrest every ill movement. Alas for America and the million hearts that honored and loved him! he went, O beloved Kearney! never to return. On the fatal field of Bull Run, fell at half past five o'clock, on Monday, Sept. 1st, Brigadier General Kearney, the Napoleon of his country, martyr and hero. Let the tears of his adoring countrymen fall like rain for "the bravest of the brave," the veteran general, the skilful leader of cavalry, the undaunted, indefatigable soldier, the idol of his men, the actor who played his part most nobly in the battles of the frontier under his uncle, the late Stephen Kearney, in the Algerian war of the French, where he was the admiration of the splendid French generals and won the Cross of the Legion of Honor. The Mexican War where his squadrons of cavalry were the pride, the wonder, the strength of Scott's army. His gallant conduct at Contreras and Cherubusco earned him the brevet of Major; his dashing charge at San Antonio's gate, Mexico, lost him his left arm. Again on the Indian frontier-until in 185- he went to Europe, where he studied the conduct of the Crimean War with the clear and discriminating gaze of an American and a hero. Then volunteering in the staff of Marshal Maurice, he entered the Italian campaign, was distinguished in the battles of Magenta and Solferino, and for his brilliant achievements received from Louis Napoleon the Riband and Cross of the Legion of Honor. Appreciated and honored abroad where fighting Generals supersede and outshine the indolent strategist, and If we, who having only seen him a mowhere the fire and spirit, military knowl- ment sitting quietly in the cars or in the edge and unflinching heroism of Kearney carriage, on business for his government found few rivals, he yet with the first echo or for himself,-we who never beheld those of the first gun of Sumter, returned to his features lighted up with the divine enthunative and beloved land, and at once of siasm of glory and honor and love of counfered his invaluable services to his cher- try, if we bitterly, almost irreconcilably, ished Commander Scott, who, knowing mourn his loss, what is the grief of his his worth, gladly and gratefully received poor, fatherless soldiers, who thought him. him and urged his appointment to a Brig-god-like, who loved him as their guide, adier Generalship by the Government, their stay, their one bright star, leading sustained and seconded by his worshipping always to victory. How the blinding tears fill the eyes, the keenest anguish wrings the soul, contemplating his gracious venture, his last effort for liberty for his country. He was brought back to his desolate followers motionless and dumb. Sainted martyr! immortal hero Kearney! only in the serene, noble face, the grand form, Kearney the patriot, the lover of liberty, everywhere now among the crowned, the victorious angels of the Lord! When he was ordered to guard the bridge-builders at Beck's Station, he reconnoitered the whole section, saw that the rebels were moving, advanced upon Manassas at once, and with Colonel (since General) Taylor, now dead, was the first to enter the enemy's works. Rushing quite through Sumner's corps at Williamsburg, rapidly forming his men in battle array, he led them, as was his wont, and by his valor won the day! Notwithstanding other accounts give the honor to other heroes, it was Kearney's dash and daring that secured the victory that, if followed up as he proposed, would have saved us all the mortification and disaster subsequently endured by inaction and bad generalship. Ordered to the front at Fair Oaks, to sustain the veteran soldier and hero, Casey, he sustained his part with great bravery and skill, and he retreated when completely overpowered by numbers, in good order and safety. Then, when came the terrible seven days' battle, he stayed last at his position, almost refusing to go. Ordered to leave his wounded on the field, he humanely brought away every man. stands his business, has experience and in- While men wanting his prompt resolve, We repeat it, the Napoleon of the war "One of the few, the immortal names Covering the rear, he fought his way Island Home, Sept. 18th, 1862. through, he finished at Malvern Hill that well fought, but, as he thought, ill-judged movement. When he joined Pope, again he was in advance, fighting, always fighting. He was engaged almost constantly Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Monday, until he fell. Wherever he fought, "victory came and perched upon his standard." Never was his division beaten: a wonderful proof that "the gods help those who help themselves. Lesser Generals, with more political power to back them, may talk of Kearney's "want of caution,"-too cowardly, too indolent, to imitate his tireless energy, his matchless bravery. We shall never have to record their fall in advance of their men. On Saturday, his division of not four thousand strong held their ground, while McDowell's twenty-five thousand were defeated. Thus it was everywhere and always. And what does this prove? That one general like Kearney, who under OLD LETTERS. BY MRS. HELEN RICH. There, speak in whispers, fold me to thy heart, Dear love, for I have roamed a weary, weary way, Bid my vague terrors with thy kiss depart, Oh! I have been among the dead to-day. Tell me thou livest---lovest yet again. Not among graves but letters old and dim, Yellow and precious have I touched the past, And, love, there came a flutter of white wings, I smiled to trace before I learned to weep. In the year 1501-the first year of that eventful century which gave to mankind the new art of printing and the new world of the West-two persons sat in the palace-fortress of Shalubaniah, in Granada, playing chess. This castle, from the moderate height at which it was placed, overlooked the blue waters of the Mediterranean on one side, and was itself overshadowed by lofty mountains on the other. It was used sometimes as the residence, sometimes as the prison, of the brothers or sons of the Moorish Kings, and its rockhewn vaults were filled with the treasures of the royal house. The town itself, the Salobrena of the Spaniards was, under its Moslem rulers, a flourishing and important city. Nor did it altogether lose its commerce and power until many years after the discovery of America. The two chess-players were Prince Juzef ben Juzef, brother of the reigning monarch, and the Alcayde or Governor of the castle and city. They were seated, as we are told by a writer who lived about the time of which we speak, on costly carpets of gold stuffs, richly bordered with the most gorgeous fringes, and supported by cushions covered with tissues of silk and gold, for although the Prince was a prisoner, he was treated with all the respect due to his rank. He was the eldest son of the good Abu Abdallah Muhamad Juzef, King of Granada, but had been wrongfully deprived of his kingly heritage by his bold and ambitious brother, Muhamad. He had quietly acquiesced in this usurpation, because he loved the peace and calm delights of a private life, better than the cares and turbulent anxiety of a throne. Five years had now nearly passed away-not altogether unpleasantly, for his family was with him, and he could solace himself with the companionship of books and the since his confinement charms of chess began. - Meanwhile King Muhamad ben Juzef had been spending the years of his sway in alternately undertaking war and concluding peace with King Henry the Third of Christian Castile. But now he fell grievously sick, and his physicians bade him prepare for the other world. He resolved to do this by cutting off the head of his brother, in order to secure the succession to his son. He sent, therefore, the Arraiz, Ahmed ben Xarac, to the Alcayde of Shalubaniah, with the following epistle : "Alcayde of Shalubaniah, My Servant : So soon as thou shalt receive these my words from the hands of my Arraiz, Ahmed ben Xarac, thou shalt deprive my brother, Cid Juzef, of life, and shalt send me his head by the bearer. See that thou fail not in my service." And now the two players were busily intent upon their game; the opening had been made, the pieces deployed, and the combinations already began to promise a hot and exciting combat. All at once the Arraiz arrives at the fortress and enters the room. He delivers the fatal missive to the Alcayde, who reads it and displays in his countenance the grief and consternation that agitate his soul. Like all who approached Prince Juzef, he had learned to love him for his good heart, and to admire him for his exalted mental qualities, and he felt the deepest sorrow when the order of Muhamad met his eyes. But the stern Arraiz is intent upon the execution of the mandate he has brought, and exhorts the Alcayde to lose no time in its fulfilment; the latter stands silent and irresolute, unable to communicate so cruel and |