The Douglas independent. [volume] (Roseburg, Or.) 187?-1885, 1882-10-14

out by the little girl whom he did not
know, and of whose friendship with the
master he was, as we'll as some others.
mortally jealous.
Dear little Lindar' said Mr.. Walters,
family; "she was always good and du-
tiful daughter to me; she never angered
me; never crossed nae, and want her to
have something by which to remember
her cid father to the end of her life. Are
those cups we'll packed, Maze?''
Yes, sir; perfectly
No chance of being bruised or bat
tered, or shaken ont by the way?-no
chance of those thieves in the custom
house putting their rowing fingers into
the pie, and pulling out a stray plum
hey?"
No. sir; Z have done tham np ms care
fully as if they were for myself" said
Mazx.
.'lhat is right, Maze. You will see to
it all for my little grip that she gets
them all safe and sound, and in the state
in which they are now?"
s''I will see to it all, Mr.. Walters; you
may rely on me-" said Maze.
sit will be worse for you if you do
not do your duty" said the old man.
-Ad1h LILY WOldc, ItAdA0--WOlcCl lO1 yOu.
Eyes, SIR" said Maze, submissively;
face to the wall aud died. The last act
of his life had been to bequeath that box
of rare old plate to his favorite pupil and
adopted daughter Linda.
When all was over, and the brave old
man was buried beneath the shadow of
the yew tree, in the church yard at Tours,
Maze wrote letter to Linda, in which
he told her of her old father-friend's be-
quest; but added this paragraph, which
somewhat spoilt the rest:
81 have dope my duty and fulfilled
my promise to my old friend in inform
ing you of this legacy; but now I put it
to you to say whether or not you will ac-
cept it. Honorably and rightfully it
belongs to certain members of his fam
lily, who have incurred much expense
without remuneration during this last
illness of their relation, and, who, there
fore, are Justly entitled to all there was
to leave. About this there can be no
two opinions with honorable people. As
l think You are one of those people, and
will, therefore, see things in the light in
which have put them, will hold the
box over until receive your instruc-
tions as to it's destination-that is.
whether you will profit by the last mo-
ments of weakened intellect of dying
man, or restore to othe family what should
never have been willed from them?"
Linda was not slow in deciding. One
of those sensitive people who pride
themselves on the purity of their love,
sire would always rather give than re-
ceiye. Ard, indeed, to receive benefits
from those whom she loved was always q
matter of some pain to her. This letter
set her imagination ablaze. She seemed
to hear the sneers of those who laughed
at the clever way in which she had feath-
cred her nest-the masterly manner in
which she had got round the old man, SO
thct he should leave her this splendid
legacy; and she seemed to hear the re-
proaches of those members of the family
who had incurred expense without
remuneration, and who, therefore.
naturally expected to receive whatever
there might be to leave. 1t would be
dishonorable to accept this bequest, it
would be mean and selfish and --un-
worthy. Mr.. Maze was quite right. 1t
was her duty to renounce it. Where
upon she wrote an impulsive letter, full
of high feeling and self abnegation, and
gave up her legacy for the sake of those
uudesignated members to whom it right
fully belonged. And she thanked Mr.
Maze for his kindness in telling her the
truth.
When he read that letter, Maze laughed
softly to himself, and passed the boz
through the Custom House.
| Linda did not regret what she had
done-those who act from principle
never do-but she was certainly rather
surprised not to receive q word of thanks
nor even of acknowledgement, from any
one. Even Maze did not reply, and GER
tainly no member of tue family here OF
elsewhere sent her line. She let the
thing pass, not troubling much about it
only thinking to herself that they were
not quite SO courteous to her as SHE
would have been to them, had their posi-
tions been reversed, and that she did no
envy them their manners.
The kaleidoscope of time changed al
matters for both Linda and Mr.. Maze
| The former went to Tours, the latter
came to England, where one of his pic
lures struck the public taste, so that he
suddenly became a celebrity where form
erly he had been unknown by one hal
of the world and laughed at by the other
He was now said to paint pictures un-
surpassed by any of the dead, unattain
able by any of the living masters. Hi
obscure tints and strange contortion
we're extolled to the skies; and none,
poured like water from an artesian vel
into the former dry bucket of his shallow
purse. His house became the rendesvou,
| of ali the pig-wig of society, and such o
the little fry as could get an invitation
and he who had been one of the most in
dustrious of toadies in his time was il
his turn the most indu striously toadied
He gave grand receptions and selec
parties; he went everywhere and re
ceived everyone; and his house, with it
artistic and perfect arrangement was th
talk of the multitude who thronges
there.
But of all his fine possessions, ,nothin,
was as fine as that noble buffet of olt
| silver cups and fagons which formed
the most striking feature of the whole
Many a collector envied that buffet
and some asked anxiously where he hat
found them? To which he would answe
carelessly that he had picked them up il
old second hand shops in London ant
the provinces having made his collec
tion since he settled here. The things
| were French, all of them, but that dit
not prevent their having been SECOND
hand in London and the provinces. How
else, indeed, could they have beer
picked up? Maze had not one of then
while be lived in Tours. How else ther
could he have collected them, save by
careful scrutiny of bric-a-brac shops in