The Tribune, 1876-12-20

r "l navo." , " You bavo for twenty long years be 1 lioved that your wife and your brothe j wt-ro iufamonsly false to you ?" a "I have." ' d " Then hear me, Ralph, while f svear"?and his form seemed to fairl dilate, and grow grand, as ho saidj " solemnly, that the whole story is 3 most infamons falsehood 1 That you (t w fe is as true to you to-day as she wa r? the day you left her, twenty years ago I " What do you mean ?" I cried, frant c 11 y, overwhelmed by his manner an a h i words. " What I do say, Ralph. Oh ! ther v has beeu some damnable mistake ! Hoa 0 my story. After you left us, 1 strug e g;ed on with the business, though no f succeeding very well. Susy drooped n t first, but soon grew cheerful, and begn 0 to plau for your return." iln words brought the dear littl j creature so plainly before my eyes, tha 0 I :>unk to the ground and covered m, \ face. " As weeks and months and year 1 pessod on," he went on, slowly, " he ? ci.eek.s grew thin and pale, and a bun a g> y look came into her eyca, I saw sh 3 w is pining, and wrote lettOT after lette f to you, but no word* could we beat T'.iere camo to me in a simple envelope l d rected to both of us, a draft of flv tl ousan.l dollars, with not a word t< . te 11 how or from whom it came. O I o< urse we knew it was from you, bu [ w ietber gift or legaoy, who could tell " Wo instituted new inquiries. Notk r it g that love could suggest was left un 1 done. At last we were forced to con s cl tde that you wore dead. By my ad s v. -e the mouey was invested in a fare f mi me distance from San Francisco, am 1 S :sy wont to live on it, while I startci 1 out on a sort of vagabond, wanderini - li e, in hopes at least to find your grav ? for wo never believed you could b s alive these long years and never lot u a hi ar. That life I have lived for tlfteei 1 y ars, returning once in three or fgu y. ars to see to the oomfort of Susy; am I now I find you "? ij "You find me," I interrupted, *i t W. eok ft miflArahla nrvnnlr ko

v> nnuiu^ IV.'! HUII ^O Ui 1UJ UlUtUt' and wife. The friend was not so neglectful a tl.o wi/o and brotiran Soon?too soon?I got a reply. I cai a e it now, in letters of fire. " My dea: fellow,' it ran, " I have made inquiries a i you requ sted, about your wife am brother, aud I can only find that the] disappeared from here a few monthi 0| o, telling no one whence they wer going, but evidently having plenty o mmey." Whit more tl^e letter contained never knew; that much of it was borne into my brain, and at that point I loe myself. They do eay I was a ravin; maniac. Perhaps so; I don't know. I only know I found myself an ol man, blasted before my time, like tree struck by lightning. Yet, I could not feel angry. Hoi could ? blame him? Was I not mad t leave him, with his loving heart, to car for a tender young beauty like my Susy How could he help lo\ing her? Wasu' she all that was lovely ? He was not t blame, poor fellow. And she ? Did she not love me, am was he not my twin brother? What ? strange that, seeing his love, she shoul< grow to return it ? What should ? do? Should I searcl them out, and blast their lives forever Should I coma with my ignoble revengt and tear her from his arms? Would elit love me for it ? Should I get back m] wife and brother ? Oh, no 1 I had been gone long enongl to give her a divorce?she had undonbt edly got it, aud was even now his wife His wife 1 Oh, God, and I could live Weekp, months, years, dragged on. ] scarcely knew they passed. Mechaui cally, I worked on. Fortune, no longe: sought, showered gold on me. I caret naught for it, but instinct prevented m< from throwing it away. Gambling wa ntterly repugnant to me. No form o dissipation lured me. I was an old, oh man at thirty. I only worked ant thought, and lived over the old daysm V one brief daw of

trouble mo?and we'll not speak of th( past? Why didn't you write to us Ralph ? Your poor little wife "? "Don't speak cf herl" I cried, ii sudden agony. " I can bear anything else?spare mo that!" " But, Balpb, there's RomethiDg ven strange here. Why didn't you let ui hoar from you ? Why can't I speak o her f Since you are not doad?as w< supposed?why did you desert her?" " Desert her I My God I" and ! fairly laughed. A horriblo laugh, I daro say, to: , Robert turned palo. I could see hi thought 1 wns mad. I resolved to con ti ol myself, and since we must havo i out, talk it over. So, after a turn o: two, I came back, and stood by kin once more. " Now, Robert, if there is any mis teko hero, lot us understand it at ouoe I left you twenty years ago, in charge o my wife, in San Francisco"? " You did, and I"? " And you." I interrupted, tool good care ot her, and did not hear fron m ; and elie grew tired of waiting, om lo- ing a shadow; and you?and youlc-ved her I" " Hold I" he shouted, his eyes blaa iup-. " Who told you that iufamou lie ?" " And she," I went on, not heedini kira?" she grew faint and tired; an* she saw your love, and she?return*, i it " Robert seized my arm as though h w mid murder mo ; hut I went on coolly : " Hush, till I have done. When yo' received the money I sent, you were to f* r gone to go back. She got a divorce you married her, and left the city, don't blame you." " And you 1?you've believed tki s tbiDg for twenty years ?" ho said, calml; n >w. though it was the ealmoesn of * i smothered volcano.

11to sixteenth, were first buried. With an obtuse sense of the fitness of things, a hack stand is permitted outside the g.ite,', which, to keep at a distance, would b < moro iu k- eping with the regretful memories which cluster around the spot. This place of intorment, at the time of their burial, was called the churchyard of the Madelaine, and extt uded from behind thut grand old struo ture to this quiet park, which is all that is left of it. Streets, stately blocks and hotels, have usurped the resting places of the silent. The remains of Marie Antoinette und of Louis the Sixteenth w ro removed from this chapel, by Napulonn the First, to St. Dennis, where are the royal tombB of kings. AmoDg the persons present at mass were Don C trios and the Duchess of Madrid, General de Gesliu, the Marquis do Dreux-Boize, Vice-Admiral Sairsot, the Princess Trouvetzkio, and Madame Barbier, granddaughter of Madajne Dussand, lady in waiting to the queen. T.ie usher was full seven feet high, and broad in proportion, with three or four decorations on his breast, and room for m ?re. Ho mudo way for the members of tho House of Orleans with an air, and chairs and people moved qnickly to either side. The ladies wore black veils; one of their nnmber carried a m iguificent rosary. The audience evidently lived in the time of Marie Antoinette, for all tho antiquated rigging of her reign surely made its appearance. D in Oarlos partook of the saornment. Madame Barbier was maid of honor to tin) wifo ol Don Oarlos. An Ancient Statute. An old statute has been unveiled in N?w Jersey which declares that all churoh entertainments, feats of legerdemain and jugglery, circus performances, variety shows, or any theatrical exhibi -

bowled Robbing, as he stood in the door. The butcher groaned. "Granting around again 1" shouted Bobbins. " What's the matter now?" The butcher groaned ogniii. " Ton feel too high toned to answer me, do you!" growled the wife beater, " Well, we'll soo about that. Just take this, will you !" He struck out, but the disguised butcher caught his wrist, sprung up, and there was fun in that cottage. Ho choked Bobbins almost *o death, tied him up into hard knots and untied him, drew turnaround by the heels and tho hair, and finally piekod him up and tossed him over the f?Doe into the mud. The wifo bcalev had kept up a steady yelling from tho first attack, and as ho rose from tho mud and sped down the street i n t eemed to think that Sitting Bull's whole fighting force were after him. At eleven o'clock that night ho entered a saloon and told a story about six men robbing him, and half "an hour later, as bo was prowling around a shed to find a place to elcop, a policeman heard him ^frying : "Nose smashed, eyes bunged up,sore thro it, bruised all over and awful sleepy! What a docoiving poison a widow woman is!" Masses for Mario Antoinette. On tho sixteenth of October masses wero celebrated in the expiatory chapel, on tho Boulevard Haussmau, Paris, from seven iu the moruing until noon. Tho occasion was the eighty-third anniversary of tho execution of Qaeen Marie Antoinette. The chapel is small, ard wis full of people, it is situated in a little park, on one of tho ceutrul streets of Paris. In this park are a few tine old trees, which seem to hang in Bomber sadness over tho place where the unfortunate queen ami her husbanJ, Louis |

unto as second quality, ana "dan," or broken fish, for homo consumption. The fish exported to hot countries are pr eked by screw power in casks. Very Ski go quantities are sent to countries as remote as Greece, Spain and Portugal. Gloddaeth woods, near* Llandudno, W iles, has been the scene of an extraor iinary poaching affray. Fifteen k? pers, bent on capturing a gang of p< i tellers, hid in the gur.-room, but the poachers, obtaining information of the trap laid for them, detached a firing party, which kept up a fusillade from behind a wall on lh? gun room, while tl?-ir comrades bagged the game. The poachers kept their would-be captors in confinement for an honr. Three were w undid ; the remainder escaped by h. apiug up tables and furniture for pr tcctiou. The Uasket Trick. 'Che trick known as the " basket ti iek," which Heller, the prestidigitor, introduces excites a good deal of surp ise, as it is only natural it should. Too conditions of the trick are simply as follows: A largo basket is brought out and placed iu fall view upon a bench supported on four primitive wooden 1< gs and leaving an open space between the basket and the floor. There seems no possible way by which a human being oi:eo in could get out of that basket without being si en. Tfco basket placed by Mr. Heller and his assistant, Mr. Beller next brings forward a pair of overalls which cover him to the ncok and which have no outlet at the ends of the sleeves or legs. When tho overalls are drawn on and a hood drawn over Mr. Heller's head and attached to the main gaiment by strings, there remains no

f wuciu ilij uniliu^ 11VCU) JL UUUHl WUiATCOs ly breathe, and I dreaded to frighten f her to death. In sight of the houRe, I 3 sent Robert ahead to tell her, and I basely hid in the shrubbery, where I I could look into the window. There she was! the same dainty r figure?the samo lovely face; but a dressed, oh, my God ! in widow's - weeds, and her bonny brown hair thick t ly sprinkled with silver. f I saw her rapid, eager conversation. i I saw the color come quiokly to her face, then leave it pale as death. I saw - her turn to the door, and fly.- And I . sprang to meet her and?and? I Weil, I can't tell about that. On hearing her story, I found that 1 Robert had left out the tale of his own j griefs. That he had warmly loved a gentle girl, but never let her know it ; had sacrificed his own happiness to spend kin life seeking mo, and caring for my wife ; that she had married another, and Robert was foroed to see her the very unhappy wife of a poor, miserable wretch. 1 And what said the little woman, when she knew that I had stayed away all these long years, had blasted her life, disap6 pointed my brother's life love, made deep l? misery for four, by my stupid belief of a piece of gossip that, oven to hear reu pealed, she shrunk from as thongh it ? would wither her? I always knew she ! w".s an nngel. She said, though with I quivering lips and tearful eyes : " Dear Ralph, lot us speak of it never 8 again. It was a dreadful mistake. Let V Un be happy in the years we have yet to * live, and leave it to another life to adjust the errors of this." X A XeiT Pirtnro nf tha

An Amorioan in Tnrkistan, in describj in-; -what he saw, iu Scribncr's, gives us y this entirely new picture of the camel, the ship of the desert: Ungainly, una amiable and disgusting in odor, they are r set down as a sort of cross between a s oow aad a cassowary. Soon in the dis>? tauce, they make one think of a big j. overgrown ostrich, with their claw-feet j and their long necks, which they turn about so as always to observe everything e which comes by, and stare at you with r their big vacant eyes until you have p. passed fully out of sight. They seem to stuud cold very well, although they will ^ lake cold and die if allowed to lie down n iu the snow. Hence, duriug the winter on the steppe, their bodies are wrapped 0 up in felt, whioh, when taken off in spriug, cariies most of the hair with it, y and they then look entirely naked. If they get an idea into their heads that the road is long, or the weight too * heavy, or that some part of the harness is wrong, they oommence to howl. It is " not exactly a groan nor a cry, but a very human, shrill and disagreeable sound; and this they never cense?they keep it ' up from the time they start until they '' reach their destination, varying their " performances by occasionally kneeling . down and refusing to advance; or if they , do go on, holding back in such a man j nor as to make progress all the slower.