children, and comfort the poor old man, who greatly censured himself for not keeping with his boys, and preventing the accident. He was assured that all would soon be well, and then nurse Margaret was sought. When she comprehended what had happened, her wits nearly fled, and seeing her inability to do more than wring her hands and cry "Howly Virgin!" I offered my services, procured hot water and flannels, and soon had the satisfaction of quieting their cries, and tucking them up in their comfortable berths. "And it is so sad that they are motherless. How long has she been dead?” "Indade, it's but two weeks agone that she departed into a bether world, I'm hopin'." "Were you much attached to her?" "Attached, is it? After goin' round an' round for so many months, wouldn't I give me life for her's any day?" "What do you mean by going round and round?" "Twould take too long to tell. Ye wouldn't care to hear, an' ye be a stranger." her's would do the homely creature no justice, for the Irish brogue was made eloquent by the lighting up of her plain face with that quick passionate emotion peculiar to her race. A happier bride is seldom seen than Laura Southwood, when, under the most favorable circumstances, she took Henry Southwood for her husband. Both parties were wealthy, with a wide circle of friends. The bride was beautiful; the husband worthy in personal appearance to stand beside her. As they received guests in their tastefully furnished house in one of the New England cities, many envied the elegant young couple beginning life so favorably. Mr. Southwood's business was hardware, from which he realized steady, though not large profits. Had he been content to make money slowly, all would have been well. At first they literally rolled in riches, and their extravagance knew no bounds. When little Harry, with the dark hair and thoughtful eyes, was given to them, his mother was, unfortunately, too busy with the demands which society made upon her to care for a baby, and he was left almost entirely to the care of Margaret, who was then first introduced as a safe and honest nurse. At length Henry Southwood became really intoxicated with success, and spent lavishly for luxuries which his elegant taste well fitted him to enjoy. He and his beautiful wife became the attractions at Newport and Saratoga, whither he went with the many pleasureseekers. Neglect of business and his reckless way of living twice brought him to a critical point, when only prompt, rapid energy averted absolute failure; but of this his wife knew nothing. To make money faster, he invested heavily in a gold mine which promised such an influx of the yellow metal as Croesus never dreamed of. He also took shares in an oil company-he might as well have burnt his bank bills. All the Thus encouraged, the girl related to stockholders in the gold company drew me the tale of her mistress, which I re-blank dividends, and the limestone rocks produce in my own words. To repeat belonging to the "Eagle Oil Company" never exuded one drop of the unctuous fluid. Southwood was left, with others, well nigh penniless. An expression of anxious care came over his face, which his wife strove in vain to fathom. He was absent much from home, and with other half ruined boon companions sought to bury memory in the wine cup. The first sorrow his wife knew was when she discovered evidence of her husband's use of liquor. She entreated and reproached him, but was met with sullen, defiant words, that frightened her, and full of foreboding, she held her peace. The usual end appeared. Southwood endeavored to raise money under false pretences. He was no adept in crime, was discovered and arrested. His hardware house was shut up, and the sheriff closed his iron hand on the elegant house, the stable, and their contents. In a long procession passed the horses, carriages, and robes up the street. Nothing was left, not even the silver; and then the voracious creditors were not half satisfied. Worse than a widow, with a despairing heart Mrs. Southwood went to her father's house, accompanied by Margaret, who would not leave Master Harry. At this time she gave birth to her second boy, from whom she turned away, burying herself in her woes, allowing no one to speak her husband's name to her. As for him, influential friends succeeded in obtaining a pardon after sentence had been pronounced; but disgraced and ruined, he could not return to his wife. Telling no one of his plans and prospects-if indeed he had any-he left town and was utterly lost. As she went she said, "Good-bye, father and mother; I shall look for Henry till I die. I leave my children to you, if I never return." It was then the last year of the war, and among the soldiers she first determined to seek her husband. She readily obtained passes, and went from one division to another, finding audience with the generals, who lent a sympathizing ear to her complaint. Many a soldier remembers a closely veiled woman, followed by a grim Irish girl carrying a satchel, going patiently from tent to barrack, always with the inquiry: "Do you know a soldier called Henry Southwood?" The war closed. No clue had been obtained. Once a month Mrs. Southwood wrote to her father, directing him where to send her money, but showing no interest in any other human being than her husband. Through all the southern cities they passed, Margaret passive in the strong hands of her mistress, never questioning or complaining, only following. Every city directory was examined, and every chief of police interviewed. Many thought the woman crazy, and nearly all felt sure of her husband's death. Once, in St. Louis, she thought she had found him. The name, H. Southwood, appeared in the directory, and the woman's eager feet could scarce bring her to the spot; but there was some mistake. Nobody had seen or heard of her husband. "Bill, go for her now. If she wants you for her husband, it's the best chance you'll ever have." Again she thought she saw him inside of a bar-room, and seemed not to notice the jeers and laughs raised by the coarse, For a while it was feared that the rea-half drunken fellows at her mistake. son of Laura Southwood would desert her, so motionless and alone did she endure her grief; but after several weeks she astonished all by appearing in a plain travelling suit, with something of the old fire in her eye, while she informed them that she would seek her husband. Margaret should attend her, and no one else. She had sold her jewels, and placed the money in her father's hand, directing him to send, as she should need, her travelling expenses. She heard only the mockings of her own heart. Once she discovered that a man, in every way answering to her description, had gone in a river steamer to New Orleans but the day before. Taking the next boat, she hurried after him, but there lost her clue as totally as if he had never been born. Disappointment and fatigue at length threw her on a bed of sickness. Faithfully Margaret cared for her, and after a delay of several weeks strength returned, and she pursued her journey. She now went to California. Suddenly and unexpectedly she heard of him as a worker on the Pacific Railroad. Back and forth, stopping over a train at every station, she went. At one settlement, conversing with an old Indian, she obtained the first satisfactory tidings of the lost one. A man calling himself Fleetwood had told this Indian that his name was in reality Henry Southwood, and that he was an exile from his wife and two fine boys, on account of crime and failure in business. From this point the indefatigable woman never lost track of her husband. Without going into detail, she came across him at last in a third-rate boarding house in Chicago. The meeting was singular. Seeing in the wan face and thin form only her once lover and husband, Laura took his hand tenderly, kissed him, and said pityingly, as a mother would say to her child: "Poor Henry! You have been away a long time. Come home now to my true heart." She shed no tears, but her face shone like an angel's. As for the strong man, he bowed his head and wept passionately; the first tears he had shed perhaps since his pure childhood, and for every tear his heart was cleaner. As for Margaret, she read him a severe lecture for leading his "leddy such a tramp," and told him well he might cry. As a privileged servant she was not rebuked. "O, Laura," said the man at length, "had I known how much you loved me, I would have gone back to you, but I dreaded to see your beautiful face turned towards me in scorn-your face still beautiful, Laura-but oh! how changed. I cursed my life, and tried to die. But I dared not thrust myself before my Maker, guilty as I was, and so I gave up that, and hoped to grow into a good man. But I didn't, Laura. Nobody has helped me. I had neither money nor friends. I would earn a little, spend it in drink, throw up my hard situation, and tramp off to some new place. Now my physical frame begins to give way, and I sometimes think my miserable life is drawing to its close. If, my wife, I may but lay my head on your faithful breast and die, I can be happy again.' "O! you will not die, Henry! I have money. We will find a nice home, and live quietly and frugally, and all will be well.' "Laura, how are our boys?" She started, looked puzzled, and answered: "For three years, Henry, I have known only you. God forgive me, if I did wrong to forget my own babes. But we shall soon be able to see them." After this, arrangements were completed for the rent of a pleasant house some distance from the city, where peace at length came back to this sorely tried couple. But not health. Consumption had fastened its fangs on the lungs of Henry Southwood, and in his failing breath and painful cough even his wife read the certainty of their speedy separation. "I know it, Margaret," she would say. "Let me alone to bear this, since I have suffered what was worse. Besides, I shall not stay long behind him." • The children were sent for, but there was a delay in their departure, owing to the brief illness of their grandfather, who was to accompany them. So it happened that the poor father's last wish was denied. The boys came too late to see him whom they had really never known. Henry Southwood died, and requested that since he could not see his boys, they should never know of his blighted life. With perfect calmness Laura buried her husband, went about her house as usual, and received with a warm affection her father and boys when they arrived. She then spoke of her own death as hastening, and devoted herself with unwearying love to Harry and Georgie. During those few months they received the most precious legacy she could leave them-impressions of a mother's love, which should keep their hearts soft and fresh through all youth's recklessness and manhood's hardening cares, even till old age and death. She taught them that her own departure was a thing of joy. Darlings, I am going to that happy heaven I have told you of, and then I shall be able to watch you as now. Harry, your young brother is your special charge. Georgie, if you are good, mother will kiss you when you die and come to heaven." Only poor Margaret went to her room and wept in despairing grief at the loss of her "swate mistress," and would not be comforted. Tears fell fast as she told me the story. "If ye'd like, mum. I'll show yes the picter. It's the last blessed thing she gave me, and I keep it over me heart; I'm thinkin' there's comfort in it." She produced a locket set with rare stones. The face was remarkably beautiful. Harry's was like it. It was capable, it would seem, of all that I had heard of her. "The other side is a bit of master's hair. The picter was taken out, for the childer might see it some time, and they don't know their father." TURKEY IN EUROPE. BY W. F. W. FO OR more than four centuries have the followers of Mohammed dominated Eastern Europe. For a much longer period have they held rule over the land made sacred by the wondrous presence of Deity. Though Christendom for ages united its power to throw off the incubus, Mohammedanism remained master of the field. and yet holds, in its despotic hand, the sacred places and the holy shrines dear to the heart and memory of every Christian. Where once stood the altar of daily sacrifice and the hallowed ark of the covenant, now stands the temple of the false Prophet. Nor may the devout pilgrim visit in security the sacred shrines of Jerusalem, or the place of the Master's nativity, or the Mount of Ascension. Practically, Christianity is shut out from the land of its birth; or if admitted, it is under restrictions so odious as to amount to exclusion. Unless we greatly mistake the temper of the times, and the general tendency of things, the world is soon to witness the correction of this disgraceful record. In 1321, the Turks-Osminlis, under Osman, the great founder of the Turkish Empire, passed the Bosphorus, and came in sight of Constantinople. One hundred and thirty-three years later the Turk became master of that city, and of all that portion of Europe lying cast of the Adriatic, and south of the forty-fifth parallel, embracing three hundred thousand square miles. For four centuries that fair portion of Europe, once the seat of learning, civilization, and the arts, with its chief city dividing with Rome the government of the Christian world, has been under the control of a power essentially antagonistic to Christianity, and to civilization as based upon the Christian faith. Bound under a system that absolutely prevents a healthy advancement, the people remain in a condition of servitude. Thirteen million Rayas are dominated by three million of the race of Osminlis. The Rayas embrace all the inhabitants, of whatever race or tribe, who occupied the country when subjugated by the Turk, and this race or class has ever since that period sustained the position of abject servitude to the proud Osminlis; a servitude without hope, without reward or protection. In order to comprehend the difficulties that hedge the way, and must always prevent a reformation of the evil, we need only glance at the system of the Turkish government. posed to do all he can to correct the evils and abuses so notorious in his dominions, he has no control over his chiefs; he is. as we have seen, hedged by a system that removes him too far from the people. We have a forcible illustration in the case of the Viceroy of the Eyalet of Egypt. This illustrious chief, who is wise and intelligent, exercises an independence which nearly puts at defiance the power of the Emperor, and the people would as soon look to the court of France or of England, for the redress of a grievance, as to that of the Sublime Porte. The Empire is divided into Eyalets or general governments, each administered by a Viceroy. The Eyalets are divided into Livas, governed by a lieutenantgovernor. The Livas are subdivided into Cazas or districts, and these again into communes or villages and hamlets. Turkey in Europe contains fifteen Eyalets. divided into forty-three Livas and three hundred and seventy-six Cazas. Thus we see how far the people are removed from the actual head of the empire. The Sultan, while being an absolute monarch, is restrained in the exercise of power by the religious, political, and civil principles contained in the Koran; by the Sunna, or the words of Mohammed preserved by tradition; and by the Code of Decisions which has grown up with the empire. But as the head of the Mo-ments of the English government, issued hammedan religion, which teaches absolute monarchy, his power is less restrained by law than by custom, by public opinion, and by the powerful influence of the great chiefs of the empire. Previous to the year 1855, any person of Turkish birth who embraced the faith not sanctioned by the Koran, incurred the penalty of death. In that year the Emperor, in obedience to the require the famous Hatti-humayan, by which all persons became free to embrace any faith they might choose. This decree, although sanctioned by the Mufti and the Ulemas. was opposed by the chiefs, who formed a Next to the Sultan, the Mufti is the powerful conspiracy, and attempted to highest dignitary of the State; the high assassinate the Emperor, in order to reChancellor, the supreme authority in all store the ancient law. Foiled in this civil, political, and religious questions. purpose, they nevertheless have rendered The Sultan cannot act without consulting the decree a complete nullity. The the Mufti and the Ulemas, or council of Crimean war was in every respect a stuwise men, "if it be conformable to law." pendous blunder, and one not likely to With this explanation we readily see how be repeated by England or any other napowerless was the "Tanzimat," or decree tion. It was the source of keen mortificaof 1839; and also the decree of 1855, tion to the proud Osminlis, to be proknown as the "Hatti-humayan," grant-tected by two infidel nations against the ing certain rights and privileges to the assault of a third. It served only to Rayas. These decrees, if properly en- wound the pride and deepen the hatred forced, would relieve the Christians of towards all. the empire from the domination of the Mohammedans, but the administration of the law being in the hands of the chiefs of the provinces, these decrees are of no value whatever. The hatred cherished by the Turk for centuries against Christianity and all Christian nations, cannot be eradicated by a decree; nor will the Turk yield obedience to any law which is designed to shield or to elevate the Christian Rayas to an equality with him. "Tell the Emperor," said one of these proud chiefs, that he may take my head, but I shall never yield equality to an infidel." While the Emperor is dis 6. From that time onward the Turk has stood in the attitude of sullen desperation, striking, where he dares to strike, against the advancing civilization. He sees plainly that his power is waning; that his hold upon Europe is certain to be lost, and no longer able to advance with the sword. he is determined to avenge and retreat with the knife. The three million Osminlis in Europe, as a class, are intelligent, but indolent, bigoted and licentious, and look with contempt upon all other races of men. Their indolence inclines them to retain the ancient laws and customs of the empire which recognize their power. |