LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 1016, 27 September 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

TWO EVILS,

By Ernest Cutheert

I have not a tale of heroics to tell. Simply the story of a man who, weighed in the balance, was not found wanting; who, tried in the lire, was found pure. Thus much as an intro 1 notion for my hero, who shall be judged by the women. For my heroine—know, men, who shall gauge her worth, that she was young and fair and beautiful and good.- for what is good is beautiful—and more I care not to tell you. I will not paint her in words ; enough that she was good.

My story begins in the North of England, near a manutactming town, I love those great centres of wealth and energy and indo stry, where fortunes have been made by mrn whom the world afterwards style ‘ selfmade.' England boasts of its manufacturers, and with pride ; and men whom we speak of as ‘ commercial princes’ have been known to have commenced life without a farthing of capital, and their only stock in trade sharp and shrewd natural abilities.

Such a one is a prominent figure in my story. That he was not all he might have been when Fortune smiled on him, and made him master over many whose daily bread depended on his good-will, is matter for regret. He had made puppets of those whoso brains d'd not equal his in power; had pushed aside his weaker fellow-man that he might stride on to the goal of wealth; had stepped on those who stood in his way, and crushed their feeble energies by his superiority. Ee had seen them all go down like puppets before him, and from the ashes of their energies, their weaknesses, their ignorances, he had built up his position, and the world bowed down to him as a ‘ merchant prince.’ He had risen, and nothing had opposed his will. He had risen; now let him fall.

It was a bright day late in winter ; the ice still bound the earth in its frozen chain, and on the waters of a lake in the grounds of a man-ion in the suburbs of a mauufacturing town in the North of England there was a merry skating party. They were the guests of this ‘merchant prince,’ Mr Foster. In the morning-room of the substantial man-sion-born of unsubstantial cotton—there was another party about to join the skaters on the lake in the mansion grounds. '! he first of this party —the young lady there in the lirst blush of womanhood, in walkingdress, and cape of fur thrown over her head by the gentleman at her side— is Edith Foster, daughter of the host, motherless, nrs.ress of the mansion. The ‘gentleman by her side’ is Archie Foster, a nephew. The third and fourth of the party are brother and sister—Charles Norton and Charlotte Norton. The former is a confidential clerk in Mr Foster’s mill, at present a favorite with his employer, and so a guest in the house with his sister. The lifth person is a lady, who might take it as an insult if you asked her age. Standing there between the two young girls, as if to keep mischief apart, her air of prim starchiness, dry-as-pepper sort of appearance, tells the mournful fact -she is a maiden aunt!

Edith Foster, referring to the proposed skating expedition, says to her cousin, ‘ Archie, if we go you must promise not to leave me, for fear of auntie here.’ And he replies, ‘Yes, of course, dear ; I’ll take care of yon both, and kiss you both alike.’ ‘ i shall not go, Edith ; you know tiiat. 1 think it is sinful, almost flying in the face of one’s M aker. ’

‘ What, auntie, on a slide?’ said Edith, causing Archie to laugh loudly, and the maiden lady to look grave, ‘ Edith, how often have I told you that I entertain strong opinions upon certain sub* jects, and —’ ‘ And of certain people, eh, auntie ? Certain people who, because they have not learned to view the vain things of this life with your austere eyes, must, as a mat-cr of

course, be very blameworthy in every action ’

‘ No, no, Edith ; I didn’t say that,’ replied the lady immediately,— ‘ I didn’t say that, but— ’

‘ I know,’ Edith caught her up ; ‘I know; what you meant was that we can go with Archie and Mr Norton to take care of ns; and.Jiaving acknowledged ray transgression of your “ strong opinion,” you will give me absolution.’

tYou are incorrigible, Edith; I really begin to be afraid of you.’ ‘Thank you, auntie. If that’s the case, I’d better go. Come, boys and girls,’ And Edith, having first thrown her aunt into a state of considerable excitement, by seizing her from behind and kissing her violently, ran from the room, followed by her companions.

They are soon on the ice, whirling along on sharp skates. ‘ A race, a race!’ is the cry 7 . ‘ Three times round the wooded island in the centre, and finish at the boat-house.’ Once! Edith leads, with Charles Norton following, and behind him his sister, ‘ attended,’ as the ringmen say, by Archie. * Twice —three times, and wait for them at the boat-house.’

Hark ! that fearful cry ! Edith, to gain a temporary advantage, has made a short cut near to the island ; but there the ice is unsafe, and in an instant she is beneath it Two arms raised wildly to clutch at only air; a face rosy with health, but terror-stricken ; a shriek, and disappearance. The next moment Charles Norton has followed her. There is a hurried cry for help, and strong hands are ready. Archie Foster drags a pole across the rotten ice, ties his handker chief around the pole, and twisting his arm into it lowers himself into the freezing water, to wait for the re-appearance of the two. They come, Edith held by Charles Norton; but he, the moment she is taken from his arms, sinks back again beneath the ice. Moments pass like ages to Archie, half immersed in the icy water, until Charles rises again ; and when he does, and is lifted into safety, he utters but one word—- ‘ Edith ! ’—and falls senseless. He was borne after her to the house in the hope, which seemed almost vain, of restoring thefieeting life ; but had he died, his death had been a glory for ever. Enough that he lived ; and Edith lived too, ,to thank him for her life. In the congratulations of that day no one was more profuse than Mr Foster. lie seemed never to tire of expressing his gratitude to his favorite clerk. And yet in the pompous delivery of those thanks there seemed a certain hollowness. Charles Norton often had to wish they had not been uttered. I fid he wish that the act had never been J one ? He had felt the silently expressed gratitude of the girl in the warmth of her after-greetings He found that hewasstandiug on treacherous ground, and he strove to fight the love which was growing upon him. But what came of it ? Did his love grow less ? No ! what then ? This.

It was a bright morning in February, rather warm for the time of year, and the day appointed for Edith's departure for a change of air, recommended as a thorough restorative. Charles Norton had left the house, where he had remained a guest since the day of the accident, somewhat earlier than usual, his mind confused by a thousand thoughts, the strongest of which was that he could not say * g 'od-bye ’ to the girl whose presence alone he had felt himself compelled to shun. He would write her a letter of adieux, he thought, because he could then command the expression of those feelings, which in the other event he felt were not in safe keeping. And so he had left the house. But as he walked through the long grounds to the gate he had to pass the scene of the memorable accident, which for him had, he felt, been memorable indeed. He stopped and gazed down into the waters, now unbound from their frozen chain, and ripp’dug in the fresh breeze: and as he gazed, thoughts of mingled bitterness and pleasuie passed through his mind : bittern ss at the fate which compelled him to fight the love he felt burning within him for the beautiful daughter of his employer; pleasure at the recollection of the ‘ slight service ’ he had been able to render her. He felt a light touch on his arm, and, turning, he found Edith Foster beside him. In her bright morning-dress and gipsy-hat she stood there, something so fresh and charming, that under no other circumstances it would have made the heart of a stoic beat ; but to him—(To he continued.) HOW TO MANAGE A JURY. (“ Virginia City Chronicle.”) Presently the stillness of the court-room was interrupted by the entrance of a man, who came in with a shullling, uneasy step, and with his hat in his hand. Nobody took the slightest notice of him, however. At last he took courage and spoke : ‘ Is the judge in V The clerk immediately awoke his Honor. ‘ Well, what do you want?” ‘ I’m looking for a job, your Honor. (I’ve been looking for work over a month,’ ‘ There’s nothing for you here.’ ‘ I thought ye occasionally gave jurymen a job. I don’t read newspapers any, and bein’ a stranger in town I haven’t got any prejudice agin anybody. A pard of mine wrote down to me at Reno, last week, and said that the jury business up here was brisk an’ it would pay to come up. As I’m a stranger to you and a little hard up, I’ll start in and serve for a case or two for half-price an’ you kin see what i kin do.’ ’ What are your main qualifications '!’ ‘My strong suit is matin’ a jury agree. No juries ever get hung if I’m on ’em. I jest lay low till they take the first ballot, then jiue the majority and argue the rest into it. I can discount any lawyer talking. I can show ’em points they never tumbled to before. Sometimes I have to use force, but seldom. Once, down at Truckee, in a murder case, there were a couple of fellers standiu’ out agin bangin’, and after arguin’ with ’em as smooth and gentlemanly as 1 could for over a quarter of an hour, I went for ’em with chairs, and by the time I’d busted half a dozen pieces of furniture over ’em they was glad to come in with a verdict of “Murder in the first degree,” and. the feller was hung not long afterward. In these justice courts I can get on the jury, and if you’ll just give me a wink as to how you want the case to go I’ll guarantee to fetch in the verdict you want, or not take a cent.’

The man was told to drop round again in a day or so and they would try and make a vacancy for him. In order to do it, however, some regular juryman will probably have to be discharged.

NOT THAT WAY. Seated on the extreme end of a narrow bench in the Central Market was a boy who seemed to have made up his mind that life was a sham and happiness a myth, He was solemnly and intently gazing at a collection uf four cabbage-heads, six beets, a peek of onions, and three cucumbers, when along cime a young man and asked — ‘ What ails you ?’ ‘Struck !’ was the solemn answer. * Have, eh ?’ How’d you come out?’ ‘ I was working foi dad at 59 cents a day.’ sadly explained the boy on the bench. ‘ I was the only hand, and I thought if I struck for a dollar a day he’d have to shut up shop and be busted or come to my terms. ’ ‘ And did it turn out that way?’ queried the other. ‘ Not quite. The old man didn’t seem a bit terror-stricken, but he bounced mo through a window and hired another boy to do ray work at 6s a day !’ * What’ll I do ?’ asked the other. ‘ Well, I s’pose I’ll have to go around telling the boys that caphal has ground me into the dust,’ was the tearful reply.