had been in the past. He blamed himself for being the cause of losing the property entrusted to him by his mother and sister. Aside from this he had lost the lady he had hoped-as the junior member of the house of Rawson & Co.to make his wife. Miss Clara Corinth could smile upon the handsome and prosperous young merchant, but the sadfaced, poverty-stricken clerk was quite another person in her estimation, so she had quietly sent him back his ring and other presents and that had been the end. It was not strange that ill luck and trouble drove him, as it has done many others. to the wine-cup, and while his mother and sister watched and prayed over him, she who had been the principal if not the whole cause of his downward career was just as light-hearted as if sin and misery were alike unknown in the world. Mary thought of all this as she sat alone by the fireside. One o'clock! The clock in a neighboring church struck the hour, and unable longer to remain quiet, Mary arose and walked the floor, her little hands clasped tightly together, her anxiety almost too great to be borne. Suddenly there came a knock at the door, low and cautious and twice repeated. Of late Eugene had frequently knocked, to avoid waking his mother by ringing the bell, when he had forgotten to take his night key, and Mary's heart gave a joyous leap as she hastened to open the door. To her surprise a stranger stood before her.

Mary turned slowly and sadly away, carefully secured the door and then reentered the room she had left so hopefully a moment before, all her fears realized now. and throwing herself upon the lounge, she burst into tears of shame and grief. That Mr. Carr, the noble gentleman who had been so kind to her brother, should see him intoxicated, as she knew he must be! He would lose his employment, of course. No one would blame Mr. Carr for turning him away after this, and then his downward career would be more rapid yet. At length she sobbed herself to sleep, her last thought being of her wayward brother and the grief of her invalid mother when she learned the truth, for she well knew it could no longer be kept from her.

It was late the next morning when Mary awoke, and a severe headache, caused by her over-anxiety and want of proper rest, caused her face to look pale and wan. She bustled about, however, and when Mrs. Ross awoke she found a delicious breakfast awaiting her. Mary greeted her mother with a kiss and many anxious inquiries regarding her health, to which Mrs. Ross replied by saying she was feeling quite nincely for her.

"Eugene eaten and gone?" said Mrs. Ross in a tone of inquiry.

"It is very late, mamma. You have overslept yourself this morning, but you were sleeping so quietly I would not awake you," answered Mary evasively. Mrs. Ross looked searchingly into her

no more until breakfast was over and Mary had cleared away the table and done the usual morning's work, and they entered the cosy sitting-room, then she said quietly:

“Mary; you are keeping something from me that I must know. At what time did Eugene return last night?" Sadly enough did Mary tell of her lonely vigil and Mr. Carr's call, keeping nothing back. Very pale grew the mother as her worst fears were more than realized, and she instantly decided to send Mary to the store to see if Eugene was there, and if not, to learn where and in what condition he was.

Twenty minutes later Mary entered

entered she was lying upon the bed. Her face was very pale with the exception of the hectic spot which burned on either cheek.

66

"My son," said she feebly, raising her hand and laying it upon his arm. My dear mother," said he sadly, while the tears rolled down his cheeks. There was a silence of several moments, then he spoke gently, laying his hand upon his mother's brow and stroking back the silken hair with a loving, tender caress. "You are worse to-night, are you not, dear mother?"

"I have been worse all day, and I wish to speak with you once more before it is too late. I want you to sign a temperance pledge here by your mother's dying bed. Will you do it, my son?"

go out after tea, Mary approached him and said sadly:

'Brother, must you go out to-night? Mother is worse, and I fear will not live until morning. I wish you could stay in."

"I have an errand to do for Theodore, who is ill, but it will not take me half an hour. I will return soon, sister."

He bent over her and kissed her fondly, and hurriedly left the house. Mary returned to her place by her mother's side and soon forgot everything else, for a change was taking place that Mary knew full well heralded the approach of death. It had been storming all day, and the wind whistled mournfully around the little cottage. A sad, mournful vigil for poor Mary and Mrs. Wilmot to keep

"If I thought I could keep it God knows I would be glad to sign it, my mother, but you little know the temptations I have to meet. Beside this, I feel that I cannot live without the use of strong drink; so what is the use of trying? I had better drink myself to death and done with it," said he bitterly.

66 Eugene, do not talk so. Draw a chair here by my side. It may be the last time I shall ever talk with you, yet it seems as if I cannot die and leave you like this. Will you not grant my last request, my son?"

Long and lovingly did the dying woman talk with him, and at last he grew calm and able to talk quietly and reasonably, and promised to do as she requested. Mary was summoned, and she drew up a pledge, and there by his mother's bedside, with her hand resting upon his shoulder, he signed it.

"God bless you, my son, and may he help you to keep this pledge," said Mrs. Ross as she sank back upon her pillow

exhausted.

Time passed on, and Eugene seemed really about to conquer his old enemy. After the first few days his appetite for strong drink diminished, and he as well as his friends, began to hope that the worst was over. Alas! poor Eugene! One evening, as he drew on his coat to

eyes and gazed wildly around the room, saying:

Mary, where are you?"

"Here I am, mother," said she, gently laying her hand upon the cold, clammy brow of her dying mother.

"Dear Mary, I cannot see you, my child."

With a low cry of anguish Mary sank upon her knees by the bedside. With a last effort Mrs. Ross raised her hand and laid it upon the bowed head of her daughter, and said brokenly:

"Promise me, Mary, that you will never forsake Eugene, let come what will."

"I promise you, mother, that I never will," said Mary between her sobs.

"God bless you, my darling! Tell Eugene-" the voice died away, there was one struggle for the breath that was gone forever, and all was over. Without, the wind blew and the rain and sleet descended pitilessly; within, Mary and Mrs. Wilmot were alone with the dead. Mary still knelt by the bedside, the hand of her dead mother resting as she had placed it upon the bowed head. Reverently Mrs. Wilmot approached the bedside and gently raising the cold, dead hand, laid it softly down above the heart that had ceased to beat, and then gently, lovingly she drew the orphan girl to her heart. Weeping bitterly,

Mary rested her head against the lady's shoulder. Her brother, who should have been by her side-where was he?

The clock struck eleven while they sat there, and still he came not. CONCLUDED NEXT MONTH.

Archæology has now become a science, and must be studied, like natural history, from disinterred specimens, as geology is illustrated by fossils. Indeed, there is a striking analogy between the physical history of the globe and the moral history of its inhabitants. The age of this

"Huge rotundity we tread upon "

is determined by the remains of animals embedded in its rocky tablets. So the duration of man upon its surface, and the progress of civilization, is learned from the works of art buried in the ruins of ancient cities. It is passing strange that the larger part of human history should be found in tombs and temples of past ages, found many feet beneath the surface of the earth. These records are absolutely essential to the knowledge of former ages. Within the present century great progress has been made in paleontology. The deciphering of the Rosetta stone by Champollion, the interpretation of the cuneiform characters by Col. Rawlinson, the excavations made at Hassarlic and Mycenae by Dr. Schliemann, and the unearthing of Cypriote antiquities by Gen. Cesnola, have changed all our former notions of ancient history, and greatly increased our knowledge of "the buried past." Egypt, Assyria, Babylon, Troy, Mycænae, Olympia and Cyprus have all uttered their voices and unveiled the mysteries of by-gone ages by their oracular revelations. The two most interesting works now before the public, relating to ancient art and history, are those of Dr. Schliemann and Gen. Cesnola. The discoveries made at Hassarlic and Mycænae are certainly very old, very valuable and very instructive. Whether they are as ancient as the fall of Troy and antedate the age of Homer is not yet decided. Five spacious tombs, within the circuit of the cyclopean walls of the

ex

Acropolis at Mycenae, buried twentyfive feet below the present surface of the soil, were opened by Dr. Schliemann. These tombs were cut in the solid rock. Some of them contained three bodies, supposed to be those of kings. From them were taken seven hundred works of art, of gold, silver, bronze and terra cotta, valued at twenty-five thousand dollars! The intrinsic value of the articles amply repays the expense of the cavation made for them. These have a pecuniary and historic value which we cannot fully estimate, but the discoveries of Gen. Česnola at Cyprus surpass those of all other antiquarians of this century. They give us the missing links in the history of art, going back of historic times, and presenting in one grand panorama the products of Persian, Egyptian, Phonician, Greek and Roman skill. Phoenicia occupies an important place in these discoveries. In the time of Thotmes III., fifteen hundred years before Christ, there were found, in an old Theban tomb, pictures of four nations bringing tribute to that Egyptian king. One of them represented a people of Cyprus. They brought works of art precisely like those found in that island by Gen. Cesnola, to wit.: vases of gold and silver, and works in stone and iron. In the time of Solomon, one thousand years before Christ, the Phoenicians were the great carriers of the Mediterranean trade, and were strong enough to protect their factories and commerce. They gave to Greece her alphabet, but probably copied their arts from Egypt.

General Cesnola was a brave and gallant officer in the war of the rebellion. He gained noble laurels as an officer, but far nobler as a discoverer. President Lincoln never made a more judicious appointment than when he made

Gen. Cesnola Consul at Cyprus. He arrived at his post of duty on Christmas Day of 1865. As the ship approached the shore of the island (for there were no wharves) the town of Larnica, his future residence, presented a most forbidding aspect. It looked the very picture of desolation; no sign of life, no vegetation anywhere visible except a few solitary palm trees. The island, viewed from the steamer, seemed to be a great cemetery of buried nations. Of course the commerce of this island was very limited, and the duties of the Consul were given to the protection of American citizens and the vindication of American honor. He gave his time chiefly to intimate converse with the dead rather than the living. The Turkish rulers of the island were opposed to his plans. They thwarted his purposes in every possible way; but the General, by his dexterity, evaded their officials, by his sagacity outwitted their spies, and by his coolness defied their troops. He bought the territory he explored, and hired his own laborers, and succeeded in bringing away most of the valuable objects he disinterred.

We will now give a summary of the results of his labors. He discovered and examined the sites of twenty-eight ancient towns and cities. He explored fifteen ancient temples, sixty-five cities of the dead, sixty thousand nine hundred and thirty-two tombs. He also discovered six aqueducts. The number of valuable articles taken from these localities was thirty-five thousand five hundred and seventy-three. Of these, five thousand were lost at sea, mostly duplicates, however, so that the value of the general collection was not injured. Most of these treasures of art have been purchased by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. Gen. Cesnola gave the preference to his adopted country, and sent them to the United States before foreign nations had time to make their decision to purchase. It is a constant source of regret by English and French antiquarians that these treasures were allowed to be brought to this country.

The treasures brought up from the subterranean vaults of the temple of Curium, on the southwest portion of the island, were the most valuable and the

most important ever discovered in ancient ruins. Four chambers were explored, three of them fourteen feet and six inches high, twenty-one feet wide and twenty-three feet long; the fourth was a little smaller. These chambers were filled with fine earth which had percolated from above. This earth was carried up to the surface, about thirty feet above. Three thousand basketfuls were removed in one month, leaving about eighteen inches of earth at the bottom. Here the treasures were found, after the hands had been dismissed. With one assistant, the General carefully examined the earth over every inch of the floors of the three large rooms. The first contained gold vessels and ornaments of great value; the second contained silver; the third and fourth works of bronze, copper, iron and terra cotta. In the gold room was a pair of bracelets bearing the name of Eteandras, King of Paphos, who, in 672, B. C., paid tribute to Esarhaddon of Nineveh. These bracelets are nearly half an inch in thickness, two feet long, perfectly flexible, and of the purest gold. How came these treasures of such immense value in these buried vaults? They were probably the offerings of devotees and pilgrims to the sacred shrine above them. They exhibit works of art of different ages and nations, and probably required centuries for their accumulation. We can account for their being strewn upon the floors of these rock-hewn vaults only upon the supposition of their hasty concealment by priests when the city was sacked and the temple destroyed.

Gen. Česnola's narrative of his adventures with the Turks upon the island and his fortunate escapes from the grasp of power is written with charming simplicity and beauty, and has all the interest of a first-class novel. The pictorial illustrations render the book invaluable to the student. The work bears this dedication: