AN ANGEL. BY FRANCIS 8. SMITE. I met her in the summer time, In Jones’s Wood, one glorious even; Her face spoke of a sunny clime, And, oh! to me, her smile was Heaven! Twas ata picnic, and a youth— A tall, distingue Wall street broker— Had caught her in his arms—in truth, Was whirling with her in a polka. Her large blue eyes, so full of pride! Her wealth of golden ringlets flowing | Her honey-lips, vermilion-dyed ! Her rosy cheeks, with rich health giewiuz! Sighing, I watched her form of grace As to the music she was leaping, And with each skip my heart kept pace— I loved the ground her skirt was sweeping! Near by an aged German sat— ‘A glass of lager beer before him— I went to him, took off my hat, Sat down, and then prepared to bore him. I inquired if he knew the blonde, And if he thought that I could woo her? “Oh, yah!’ the Teuton did respond ; “I gifs you introductions to her!” I could have hugged that Teaton then, And sent for iced champagne to treat him. I thanked him o’er and o'er again. How lucky I had chanced te meet him! I raised my sparkling glass on high— But, oh! my hopes were rudely shatter’& When a rough fellow, passing by, My clean shirt-bosom badly spatter’ .“How could I meet my charmer now f” And looking up, I saw her coming! The sweat-beads stood out on my brow, And ‘gainst my ribs my heart was drammingi And now she in my presence stood— I touched the old Teutop who knew her, And intimated that ze should Give me an introduction to her. He did so. Heavens! how my heart Jumped, asZ shyly looked upon heri I felt the stiag of Cupid’s dart, And thought I had already won her. But soon the recollection of My wine-soiled shirt a thrill prophetic Sent through my heart, and to my love I stammer’d thus, apologetic: “Excuse me, miss,” I faintly said, “For standing in this guise before yout Though somewhat soiled,.I’m not iow-bred, Believe me, fair one, implore you! The truth is, when I raised my glass— Oh, sad mishap, that fate should will iti~ Yon low-browed wretch—the stupid assi— While passing by, caused me to spill it.” Trembling with eagerness, I paused For her reply. She looked me over, With pity in her mild blue eye— Sweet saint! how could I help bat love heri And as she silent stood, I gazed With eager joy on my entrancer, With expectation well-nigh crazed— I longed so much to hear her answer. I felt that I shouid be surprised At the soft music of her prattle; And this idea was realized ; But I was not prepared for battie. “What d’yer say f” slie cried, with scorn. “That low-brow’d wretch is Jack McDougal— A thoroughbred as sure’s you’re bora— Here, Jack, just bust this rooster’s bugie{” Somehow i think the thing was planned. My friend the German tried to pet ber; But the bewitching bionde’s command Was executed to the letter. Nay, more—I have a queer conceit That they for my possessions iusted— I found, on making my retreat, Both pocketbook and bugie “busted.” And now I seldom see a bionde But what I think of Jack McDougal, And then I check all feelings fond, And naturally feel my “bugle.” * Young men, no stranger damsel greet— Avoid her—shun her—do not trust her— Or you, ifke me, may chance to meet A pugilistic “bugle-buster.” *It is hardly necessary for me to inform the intelligent reader that the hero of this truthful narrative was “a young man from the country.” He was entirely ignorant of the meaning of the phrase “bust his bugle,” nor did he learn its full significance until informed by his fifteen-year-old city cousin that ‘‘bastin’ his bugle means givin’ him a smack in the snoot.” Having given which information, the precocious youth aforesaid continued, after a critical examinalion of his unfortunate elder cousin’s countenance: “Thunder! Cousin Seth, ain’t_ you got a healthy pair of fat eyes, and an ornamental snoot! Somebody’s been a- puttin? a head onto you. That piece o’ work looks worthy of Jack Mc Dougal. I saw a fellow’s frontispiece fixed like that by him once!” “The lady called the villain who assaulted me by that name,” was the meek reply. “The lady!” exclaimed the young hopeful, with a hearty guffaw. “Why, Cousin Seth, it won’t do for you to travel out alone any more. Next time you go outtake me with you, and Ill show. you how it’s done. won’t score you any more’n enough to warm you up, and then TN give you a good send-off, and take you home a winner, with- out a skip or a break, sure/” Seth remarked in reply, that he didn’t understand what his youthful cousin meant, but that if he should venture forth again he would take him as an escort. LOVE WORKS WONDERS! By CM B., Author of “THROWN ON THE WORLD.” (“Love Works Wonders” was commenced in No. 30. Back num- bers can be obtained from any News Agent in the United States.] CHAPTER IX. Pauline Darreil was a Keen, shrewd observer of char- acter. She judged more by small actions than by great ones; it was a Characteristic of hers. When women have that gift, itis more to be dreaded than the cool, calm, Matured judgment of men. Men err sometimes in their estimate of character, but it is very seldom that a woman makes a similar mistake. The garden path widened. where the tall white lilles grew in rich profusion, and there Pauline and Captain Langton walked side by side. The rich, sweet perfume seemed to gather round them, aud the dainty flowers, with their shining leaves and golden bracts, looked like great white stars. Captain Langton carried a small cane in his hand. He had begun to talk to Pauline with great animation. Her proud indifference piqued him. He was accustomed to something more like rapture when he devoted himself to any fair lady.. He vowed to himseif that he would van- quish her pride, that he would make her care: for him, that the proud, dark eyes should soften and brighten for him; and he gave his whole mind to the conquest. As he walked along, one of the tall, white lilies bent over the path; with one touch of the cane he beat it down, and Pauline gave a lille cry, as though the blow had pained her. She stopped, aud taking the slender green stem in her hand, straightened it; but the blow had broken one of the white leaves. “Why did you do that?” glie asked, in a pained voice. “Itis only a flower,” he repued, with a Jangh. “Only a flower! You have killed it. You cannot make it live again. Why neecd you have cut its sweet life short ?? “It will not be missed from among 80 many,’ he said. “You might say the same thing of yourself,» she re- torted. ‘The world is full of men, and you Would hardly be missed ffom so many; yet you would not t\ke— ‘There is some little difference between @ maa anda flower, Miss Darrell,” he interrupted, stiffly. “There is, iudeed; and the flowers have the advantage,” she retorted. The captain solaced himself by twisting his mustaclie, and relieved his feelings by some few muttered words, which Miss Darrell did not hear. In her quick, impulsive way, she judged him at once. “He is cruel and selfish,’ she thought; “he would not even stoop to save Lhe life of the sweetest flewer that biows. He shall not forget killing that lily,” she contin- ued, as she gathered the broken chalice, and placed it in her belt. ‘‘Every time he looks at me,” she said, ‘he shall remeinber what he has done.’? The captain evidently understood her amiable inten- tion, and liked her accordingly. They walked on for some minutes in perfect silence; then Paulive turned to him suddenly, “Have you been long in the army, Captain Langton ?”” Fiattered by a question that seemed tv evince some per- sonal interest, he hastened to reply: ‘More than eight years, 1 joined when I was twenty,” ‘Have you seen any service?” she asked. “No,” he replied. “My regiment had been for many years in active service just before I joined, so that we have been at home since then.” “In inglorious ease,” she said, “We are ready for work,” he returned, ‘when work comes.?? “How do you employ vourtime?”’ she asked; and again he was fluttered by the inierest that the question showed, His face flushed. Here was a grand opportunity of show- jug this hauglity girl, this “proudest Darrell-of them all,” vet on ve ntasaoeh cana esac ALR AR se eae - ees a ere that he was eagerly sought after in society such as she had not yet seen. “You have no conception of the immense number of en- gagements that occupy our time,’ he replied; ‘‘l am fond 0! horses—I take a great interest in all races,’’ Uv he had added that he was one of the greatest gum- biera on the turf, he would have spoken truthfully. . “Horse racing,” said Miss Darrell—*‘that is the favorite occupation of Euglish gentlemen, is it noi?” “1 should imagine so. Then | am considered—you must pardon my Loasting—one of the best billiard play- ers in London.”* : ; ‘That is not Much of a boast,’’ she remarked, wilh such quiet contempt that the captain could only Jook at her in sheer wonder, “There are balis, operas, parties, Suppers—I cannot tell what; and the ladies engross a great deal of our time.. We soldiers never forget our devotion and chivalry to the fair sex, Miss Darrell.” “The fair sex suould be grateful that they share your attention with horses and billiards,’ she returned. ‘But what else do you do, Captain Langton? 1 was not think- ing of such trifies 4s these.” 1 “Trifies!’) he repeated. “I do not call horse racing a trife. i was within an inch of winning the Derby—I mean ; to say a horse of mine was, If you call that a trifle, Miss Darrel, you go near to upsetting English society aito- ether.’? ; " “But what great things do wee do ?"? she repeated, her dark eyes opening wider. ‘You. cannot mean seriously that this is all. Do you never write, paint—have you no ambition at all?’ ' “I do not know what you call ambition,” he replied, sullenly; ‘as for writing aud painting, in England we pay people to do that kind of thing for as. You do not think that I wouid paint a picture, even if I could ?”’ “I should think you clever if you did that,’’ she. re- turned; ‘‘at present I cannot see that you do anything re- quiring mind or intellect.” “Miss Darrell,’”? he said, looking at her, ‘“‘you are a radi- cal, 1 believe.’ ‘A radical ?? she repeated, slowly. “I am not quite sure, Captain Langton, that 1 know what that means,” “You believe in aristocracy of intellect, and all that kind of nonsense,” he continued. ‘Why should a man who paints a picture be any better than the man who under- stands the good points of a horse?” “Why, indeed?’ she asked, satirically. ‘“‘We will not argue the question, for we sliould not agree.” “f had her there,” thought the captain. ‘She could not answer me. Some of these women require a high hand to keep them in order.”’ **1 do not see Miss Hastings,’’? she said at last, ‘‘and it is quite useless going to the aviary without her. I do not remember the name of a single bird; and I am sure you will not care for them.’? “But,” he returned, hesitatingly, ‘Sir Oswald seemed to wish it.’? ‘There is the first dinner-bell,’? she said, with an air of | great relief; “there will only just be time to return. As you seem solicitous about Sir Oswaila’s wishes we had better go in, for he dearly loves punctuality.” “| believe,’ thought the captain, ‘that she is anxious to get away from me. I must say that I am not accus- tomed to this kind of thing.”’ The aspect of the dining-room, with its display of fine old plate, the brilliantiy arranged tables, the mingled odor of rare wines aud flowers, restored him to good humor. “It would be worth some litile trouble,’ he thought, “to win all this.” He took Pauline intodinner. The grand, pale, passion- ate beauty of the girl had never shown lo greater advan- tage than it did this evening, as she sat with the purpie and crimson fuchsias in her hair and the broken lily in her belt. Sir Oswald did not notice the latter until dinner was halfover. Then he said; ! “Why, Pauline, with gardens and hothouses full of flowers, have you chosen a broken one ?”? “To me it is exquisite,” she replied. The captain’s face darkened for a moment, but he would {not take offense. The elegantly appointed table, the seductive dinuer, the rare wines, all made an impression on him. He said to himself that there was a good thing Offered to him, and thata girl’s haughty temper should not stand in his way. He made himseli most agreeable, he was all animation, vivacity, and high spirits with Sir Oswald. He was deferential and attentive to Miss Hast- ings, and his manner to Pauline left no doubt in the minds of the lookers on that he was completely fascinated by her, She was too proudly indifferent, too haughtily careless, even to resentit. Sir Oswaid Darrell was tvo true a gen- tleman to offer his niece lo any one; but he had given the captain to understand that, if he could woo her and win her, there would be no objection raised on his part. For once in his life Captain Langton had spoken quite truthfully. “F have nothing,’ he said; ‘my father left me but a very moderate fortune, and I have lost the greater part of it. I have not been careful or prudent, Sir Oswald.” “Oare and prudence are not the virtues of youth,” Sir Oswald returned. “I may say, honestly, Ishouid be glad if your father’s son could win my niece; as for fortune, she will be richly dowered if I make her my heiress. Only yesterday I heard that coal had been found on my Scotch estaies, and, if that be true, it will raise my income many thousands per annum.” “May you long live to enjoy your wealth, Sir Oswald!’’ Said the young man, so heartily that tears stood in the old baronet’s eyes. But there was one thing the gallant captain did not con- fess. He did not teil Sir Oswald Darrell—what was really the trnth_that he wag over head and ears in debt, and that this visit to Dattent COUrt WdS Ue 14st livpo iofv to him. —pemenete CHAPTER X. Sir Oswald lingered over his wine. It was not every day that he found a@ companion so entirely to his taste as Captain Langton. The captain had a collection of anec- dotes of the court, the aristocracy, aud the mess-room, that could not be surpassed. He kept his own interest well in view the whole time making some modest aliu- sious to the frequency wilh which his society was sought, and the number of jJadies who were disposed to regard him favorably, All was narrated with the greatest skill, without the least boasting, and Sir Oswald, as he listened with delight, owned to himself that, all things considered, he could not have chosen more wisely for his niece. A second bottie of fine old port was discussed, and then Sir Oswald said: ‘*You will like to go Lo the drawing-room; the ladies will be there. [always enjoy forty winks after dinner,” The prospect of a tete-a-tete with Miss Darrell did not strike the captain as being a very rapturous one. “She is,” he said to himself, “a magnificently hand- some girl, but almost too haughty to be bearable. I have never, it all my life, felt so small as I do when she speaks to me or jooks at me, aud no man likes that sort of thing. But Darrell Court was a magnificent estate, the large anuual income was a sum he had never even dreamed ol, and all might be his—Sir Oswald had said so; his, if he could but win the proud heart of the proudest girl it had ever been his fortune to meet, The stake was well wortb going through something disagreeable for. “If she were only like other women,” he thought, ‘I should know how to manage her; but she seems to live in the clouds.”? The plunge had to be made, so the captain summoned ail his courage, and went to the drawing-room. The pic- ture there must have struck the least imaginative of men. Miss Hastings, calm, elegant, lady-!ike, in her quiet evening dress of gray silk, Was seated near a small stand on which stood a large lamp, by the light of which she was reading. The part of the room near. her was brilliantly illuminated, it was a spacious apartment—uuusually so even foralarge Mansion. it contained four large win- dows, two ol which were closed, the gorgeous hangings of white and gold shielding them from view; the other eud of the room was in semi-darkness, the brilliant light from the lamp not reaching it—the windows were thrown wide open, and the soft, pale moonlight came in. The evening Ccume in too, bringing with it the sweet breath of the lilies, the perfume of the roses, the fragrance of rich clover, carnations, and purple heliotropes. Faintshadows lay on tife flowers, the white silvery light was very peace- ful and sweet; the vewdrops shone on the grass—it was the fairest hour of natare’s fair day. Pauline had gone to the open window. Something had made her restiess and unquiet; but, standing there, the spell of that beautiful moonlit scene calmed her, and held her fast. With one look at that wonderful sky and its Myriad stars, one at the soft moonlight and the white lies, the fever of life died from her, and a holy calm, sweet fancies, bright thoughts, swept over her like an angel's wing. j Then she became conscious of a stir in the perfumed air; something less agreeable mingled with the fragrance of the lilies—some scent of which she did not Know the name, but which she disliked ever afierward because the captain used it. A low yuice that would fain be tender murmured something in her ear; the spell of the moon- ligt was gone, the quickly thronging pvetical fancies had all fled away, the beauty seemed to have left even the sleeping flowers, Turning round to him, she said, in a clear voice, every word sounding distinctly: “Have the goodness, Captain Langton, not to startle me again. I do not like any one to come upon mein that un- expected manner,’? “1 was 80 happy to find you alone,’’ he whispered, “I do not kuow why that should make you happy. Ial- ways bellave much better when I ain with Miss Hastings than when I am alone.” “You are always charming,’ he said... “I want to ask you something, Miss Darrell. Be kind, be patient, and listen to me.’? “Lam neither kind of patient by nature,” she returned; ‘wha have you to say??? It waa very difficult, he felt, to be sentimental with her, She had \rned to she window, and was looking out again at the flowers; one little white hand played. impatiently with a brancy of guelder roses that came peeping in. ‘‘] am jealous of those flowers,” said the captain; ‘will you 100k at me iagtead of them ?? She raised her beautiful eyes, and looked at him so calmly, with 80 much conscious superiority in her man- ner, that the captain felt “smaller”? than ever, “You are talking nonsense to me,” she said, loftily; “ani as I do not like nonseuse, will you tell me what you have Lo Bay ?”” The voice was calm and cold, the tones measured and slightly contemptuous; it was very difficult under such circumstances to be an eloquent wooer, but the recoliec- uuon of Darrell Qourt and its. large rent-roli came to him and restored his fast expiring courage. “T want to ask a favor of you.’’ he said; and the plead- ing expression that he managed to threw inte his face was really creditable to him. ‘1 want to ask you if you will be a little kinder to me. 1 admire you so inuch that } should be the happiest man in all the world if you would but give me ever so litte of your frien iship.”’ She seemed to consider his words—to ponder them} and from her silence he took hope. ‘Lam quite unworthy, I know; but, if you knew how all my life long I have desired the friendship of a good and noble woman, you would be Kinder to me—you would in- deed!?? “Do you think, then, that Lam good and noble??? she asked. “Tam sure of it; your face——’’ ‘I wish,” she: interrupted, ‘that Sir Oswaki were of your opinion. You: haye lived in what people call ‘the world’ ali your life, Captain Langton, Isuppose?”’ “Yes,” he replied, wondering: what would follow. “You have been in society all that time, yet I am the first ‘good and noble woman’ you have met! You are hardly complimentary to the sex, after all.” The captain was slightly taken aback. “I did not say those exact words, Miss Darrell.” “Bat you implied them, Teli me why you wish for my friendship more than, any Other. Muss Hastings is ten thousand times more estimabie than I am—why not make her your friend?” ; “I admire you—I like you. I could say more, but J dar not. You are hard upon me, Miss Darreli.’ *“T have no wisi to be hard,” she returned. ‘‘‘Who am I that Lshould be hard upon any one? But, you see, lam unfortunately what peopie call very plain-spokeu—very truthful,’”? “So much the better,’? said Captain Langton. “Is it? Sir Oswaid says not. If he does not make me his heiress, it will be because I have such an abrupt manner of speaking; he often telis me’so,”’ “Truth in a beautiful woman,” began the captain, sen- timentally; but Miss Darrell again interrupted him—she had little patience with his platitudes. “You say you wisi for my friendship because you like me. Now, here is the difficulty—I cannot give it to you, because I do not like you.” ‘You do not like me?’ cried the captain, hardly able to believe the evidence of his own senses. ‘You cannot neon You are the first person who ever said such a thing ‘Perhaps Iam not the first who ever thought it; but then, as 1 tell you, Iam very apt to say what 1 think.” ‘“*Will you tell me why you do not like me’? asked the captain, quietly. He began to see that nothing could be gained in any other fashion. Her beautilu! face was raised quite culmly tohis, her dark eyes were as proudly serene as ever, she wasutterly unconscious that she was saying anything extraordinary. “1 will tell you with pleasure,”’ she replied. **You seem to me wanting in truth and earnestness; you think people are to be pleased by flattery. You flatter Sir Oswald, you flatter Miss Hastings, you flatter me. Being agreeable is all very well, but an honest man does not need to flatter— does not think of it, in fact. Then, you are either heed- less or cruei—I do not Know which. Why should you kill that beautiful flower that Heaven made to enjoy the sun- shine, just for one idie moment’s wanton sport ?? Cuptain Langton’s face grew perfectiy white with anger. “Opon my word of honor,” he said, “I never heard anything like this!’ Miss Darrell turned carelessly away. “You see,’ she said, ‘friendship between us would be rather difficult. But 1 will not judge too hastily; I will Wait a few days, and then decide.” She had quitted the room before Captain Langton had sufficiently recovered from his dismay to answer. CHAPTER XI. It was some minutes before Captain Langton collected himself sufficiently to cross the room and speak to Miss Hastings. She looked up at him with a smile. “T am afraid you have not had a very pleasant time of it at that end of the room, Captain Langton,” she said; “I was just on the point of interfering.” “Your pupil is a most extraordinary young lady, Miss Hastings,” he returned; “I have never met with any oue more 8o.’? Miss Hastings laughed; there was an expression of great amusement on her face. “She is certainly very original, Captain Langton; quite different from the pattern young jady of the present day.”’ “She is magnificently handsome,’”? he continued; ‘*but her manners are simply staruling.”’ “She has very grand qualities,” said Miss Hastings; “she has a noble disposition and a generous heart, but the want of early training, the mixing entirely with one class of society, has made her very strange.”? “Strange!” cried the captain. “I have never met with any oue so blunt, so outspoken, so abrupt, in all my life. She has no notion of repose or polish; I have never been 80 surprised. I hear Sir Oswald coming, and really, Miss Hastings, I feel that I cannot see him; I am not equal to it—that extraordinary girl has quite unsetiied me. You might mention that I have gone out in the grounds to smoke my cigar; I cannot talk to any one,”? Miss Hastings laughed as he passed out through the open French window into the grounds. Sir Oswald came in, smiling and contented; he talked for a few minutes with Miss Hastings, and heard that the captain was smok- ing his cigar. He expressed to Miss Hastings his very fa- vorabie opinion of the young man, and then bade her good-night. “How will it end?’ said the governess to herself. ‘‘She will never marry him, 1 am sure, Those proud, clear, dark eyes of hers look through all his little airs and graces; her grand soul seems to understand all the narrowness ani selfishuess of his. She will never marry him. Oh, if ene bat be etyiiinest ! Sir as an won eta he hag 1at wou become of Pauline? ee Pe ter By this time the gentle, graceful governess had become warmly attached to the beautiful, wayward, willful girl who persisted so obstinately in refusing what she chose to call *polish.’? ‘How will it end?’ said the governess, “I would give all I have to see Pauline mistress of Darrell Court; but I fear the future.’’ Some of the scenes that took place between Miss Dar- rell and the captain were very amusing. She had the ut- most contempt for hie somewhat dandified airs, his graces and affectations. “I like a grand, rugged, noble man, with the head ofa hero, and the brow of a poet, the heart of a lion, and the smile of a child,’ she said to him one day; ‘Ef cannot en- dure a coxcomb,”” “T hope you may find such a man, Miss Darrell,’’ he re- turned, quietly. ‘“‘l have been some time in the world, but I have never met with such a cliaracter.” “I think your world lias been a very limited one,’”? she replied, and the captain looked augry. He had certainly hoped aud intended to dagzie her with his worldly knowledge, if nothing else. Yet how she de- spised his knowledge, and with what contempt she heard him speak of his various experiences? Nothing seemed to jar upon her and to irritate her as did his affectations. She was looking one morning at a very beautifully veined leaf, which she passed over to Miss Hastings, “Is it not wonderful ?? she asked; and the captain with his eye-glass came to Jook at it. “Are you short-sighted?” she asked him, abruptly. “Not in the least,” he replied. “Is your sight defective?” she continued, “No, not in the least degree.’ “Then why do you use that eye-glass, Oaptain Lang- ton?” ‘I—ali—why, because everybody uses one,’ he replied. “I thought it wasonly women who did that kind of thing—followed a fashion for fashion’s sake,’’ she said, with some little contempt. The next morning the captain descended without his eye-giass, and Miss Hastings smiled as she noticed it. Auother of his affectations was a pretended inability to pronousgce his ‘*t’s” and “r’s.”’ “Oan you really not speak plainly ?? she said to him one da ay. “Most decidedly Ican,” he replied, wondering what was coming next. “Then, why do you call ‘rove’ ‘wove’ in that absurd fashion ?? The captain’s face flushed. “It is a habit I have fallen into, I suppose,” he replied. “J must break myself of it,"’ “It is about the most effeminate habit a man can fall into,’ said Miss Darrell. ‘I think that, if I were a soldier, I should delight in clear, plain speaking. I cannot under- stand why Euglish gentlemen seem to think it fashionabie to mutilate their mother tongue.” There was no chance of their ever agreeing—they never did even for one single hour. “What are you thinking about, Pauline??? asked Miss Hastings one day. Her young pupil had fallen into a reverie over The His- tory of the Peninsular War. “lam thinking,” she replied, “that, although France boasts s0 much of her military glory, England has a su- perior army; her soldiers are very brave; her officers the truest gentlemen.” ‘| am glad to hear that you think so. I have often wondered if you would take our guest asa sample.”’ Her beautiful lips curled with unutterabie contempt. *Oertainly not. 1 often contrast him with a Oaptain Lafosse, who used to visit us iu the Rue d’Orme, a grand man with a brown, rugged face and great brown hands. Captain Langton is a coxcomb—neither more nor less, Miss Hastings.”? ‘But he is polished, refined, elegantin his manner and address, which, perhaps, your friend with the brown, rugged face was not.” “We shall not agree, Miss Hastings, we shall not agree. I do not like Captain. Langton.” The goveriess, remembering all that Sir Oswald wished, tried in vain to represent their visitor in a more favorable aoe. Miss Darrell simply looked haughty and uncon: vinced. ‘Tam years younger than you,” she said, at last, “and have seen nothing of what you call ‘life’; bat the instinct of my own heart tells me that he is falee in heart, in mind, in soul; he tras a false, flattering tongue, false lips, false principies—we will not speak of him.?? Miss Hastings looked at her sadly. ‘Do you not think that in time, perhaps, you may like him better?” “No,” was the blunt reply, “I donot, 1 tok) him that I did not like him, but that I would take some time to con- sider whether he was to be a friend of mine or not; and the conclusion I nave arrived at is, that I could not en- dure his friendship.’’ “When did you tell him that you did not like him? asked Miss Hastings, gravely. “I think it was the first night he came,” she replied. Miss Hastings looked relieved. oo he say anything else to you, Pauline?” she asked, gently. “No; what should he say? He seemed very much sur- prised, I suppose, as he says most people like him. But I do not, aud never shall.’ One thing was certain, the captain was falling most passionately in love with Miss Durrell.’ Her grand beauty, her pride, her originality, all.seemed to have an irresisti- ble charm for him. CHAPTER XII. It was a morning in August, when a gray mist hung over the earth, a mist that resulted from the intense heat, and through which trees, fowers, and fountains loomed faint- ly like shadows, The sun showed his bright face at inter- vals, but, trough he withheld his gracious presence, the heat and warmth were great; the air was laden with per- fume, and the birds were all singing as though they knew that the sun would soou reappear. " One giance at her pupil’s face showed Miss Hastings there Was not much to be done in the way of study. Pau- iiné wanted to watch the mist rise from the hills and trees. She wanted to see the sunbeams grow bright and gokien. “Let us read under the lime trees, Miss Hastings,” she said, and Qaptain Langton smiled approval. For the time was come when he followed her like her shadow; when he could not exist out of her presence; when his passionate love mastered him, and brought him, a very Slave, to her feet; when the hope of winning her was dearer to him than life itself; when he would have sacri- _— even Darrell Court for the hope of calling her his ean | If she knew of his passion, she made no sign; she never relaxed from her haughty, careless indifference; she never tied in the least to make herself agreeable to him. Sir Oswald watched her with keen eyes, and Miss Hast- ings trembied lest misfortune should come upon the girl she was learning to love so dearly. She saw and under- stood that the baronet was slowly but surely making up his mind; if Pauline married the captain, he would make oe his heiress; if not, she would never inherit Darrell jourt. " On this July morning they formed a pretty group under the shadowy, graceful limes. Miss Hastings held in her hands some of the fine fancy work which delights ladies; the captuin reclined on a tiger-skin rug on the grass, look- ing very handsome, for, whatever might be his faults of mind, he was one of the handsomest men in England, Pauline, as usual, was beautiful, graceful and piquant, weariug a plain morning dress of some gray material—a dress which on any one else would have looked plain, but which she had made picturesque and artistic by a dash of scariet—and a pomegranate blossom in her hair. Her lovely face looked more than usually noble under the in- fluence of the words she was reading. “Tennyson again!” said the captain, as she opened the book. “It is to be regretted that the poet cannot see you, Miss Darrell, and kuow how highly you appreciate his works.”? She never smiled nor blushed at his compliments, as she had seen other girisdo. She hada fashion of fixing her bright eyes on him, and afier one glance he generally rs overcome with confusion before his compliment was euded. “I should not imagine that anything I could say would flatter a poet,” she replied, thougitfully. ‘Indeed he is, I should say, as far above blame as praise.” Then, without noticing him further, she went on read- ing. Captain Langton’s eves never left her face; its pale, grand beauty glowed and changed, the dark eyes grew radiant, the beautiful lips quivered with emotion. He thought to himself that a mau miglit lay down his life and every hope in it to win such love as hers. » Suddenly she heard the sound of voices, and looking up saw Sir Oswald escorting two ladies, “What a tiresome thing!’ grumbled the captain. “We can never be alone a single hour.” “T thought you enjoyed society so much!’ she said. ‘Tam begitining to care for no society on earth but yours,’ he whispered, his face flushing, wile she turned haughitily away. “You are proud,’? murmured the captain to himseli— ‘you are as haughty as you ure beautilul; but I will win you yet.” Then Sir Oswald, with his visitors, advanced. It was Pauline’s aversion, Lady Hampton, with her niece, Miss Rocheford. . Lady Hampton adyanced in her usual grave, artificial manner. “Sir Oswald wanted to send for you, but I said ‘no.’ What can be more charming than such a group under the trees? Lam so anxious to introduce my niece to you, Miss Darrelimshe arrived only yesterday. Elinor, jet me introduce you to Miss Darrell, Miss Hastings and Quptain Liungton.”? Pauliue’s dark eyes glanced at the blushing, sweet face, and theshrinking graceful figure. Miss Hustings made her welcome; and the Captain, stroking his mustache, thought himself in luck for knowing two such pretty giris. ‘There ceuld not have been a greater contrast than Pau- line Darrell and Eliner Rocheford. Pauline was dark, proud, beautiful, passionate, haughty, and willful, yet With a poet’s soul and a grand mind above all worldliness, all meanness, ali artifice. Elinor was timid, shrinking, graceful, lovely, with a delicate, fuiry-like beauty, yet with- al keenly alive to the mam Chance, and never forgetiing her aunt's great maxim—to make the best of everything for herself, On this warm August morning Miss Rocheford wore a Charming gossamer costume of liiacg and white, wiih the daiutiest of Parisian hais on her goideu head, Her gloves, shues, laces, parasol, were periection—not a fold was out of place, not a ribbon awry—contrasting most forcibly with the grand, picturesque gir! near her. Lady Hampton seated herself, and Miss Rocheford did the sume Sir Oowald cugevsting how. very refreshing grapes and. peaches would be on 50 warm “g morning, Oaptain Langton volunteered to go and order some. Lady Hampton watched him-as he walked away. “What a magnificent man, Sir Oswald! What a fine clever face! It. is easy to see that he is a military man— he is 80 upright, so easy; there is nothing like a military training for giving @ man an easy, dignitied carriage, 1 think 1 understood that he was the son of a very old iriend of yours ?*? “The son of the dearest friend I ever had in the world,” was the reply; ‘‘and | love him as though he were my own —indeed I wish he were.”? Lady Hampton sighed and looked sympathetic. “Langton,” she continued, in a musing tone—‘‘is he one of the Langtous of Orde??? “No,” replied Sir Oswald; ‘‘my dear old friend was of a good family, but not greatly blessed by fortune.” it was wonderful to see how Lady Hampton’s interest in the captain at once died out; there was 0 more praise, no more aimiration for him. it she had discovered that he was. heir to an earidom, how different it would have been! Before long tiie captain reiurued, and then'a rus- lic table was spread under the line trees, with purple grapes, peaches, crimson aud gold apricots and ruby piums. **1t's quite picturesque,’? Lady Hampton declared, with a smile; and Elinor, dear child, enjoys fruit so much.’ In spite of Lady Mampion’s wish, there did not appear to be much cordiality between the two girls. Occasion- ally Elinor would iook at the captain, Who was not slow to return her glances with interest. His eyes said plainly that he thougit her very lovely. Miss Rocheford was in every respect the model of a well- broughi-up young lady. Ste kuew that the grand end aud aim of her existeuce was to marry well—she never forgot that. She was well-born, weill-bred, beautiful, ac- complished, but without fortune. From: her earliest girl- hood Lady Hampton had impressed upon her tle duty of marrying money. “You have everything else, Elinor,’ she was accustom- edtosay. ‘You must marry for tide aud money.” Miss Rocheford kuew it.) She had no objection to her fate—she wus quite passive over it—but she did hope at limes that the nan who had the tithe and money would be young, handsome and agreeable. If he were not, she could not help it, but she hoped he would be. Lady Hampton had recently beconie a widow. In her youth she had felt some little hope of being mistress of Darrell Court; but that hope had soon died. Now, how- ever, that a niece Was thrown upon her hands, she took heart of grace in another respect; for Sir Oswald was not an old man, It was true his hair was white, but he was erect, diguified, and, in Lady Hampton’s opinion, more interesting than a handsome young man, who gvould think of nothing but himself. If he would be but sensible, and, instead of adopting that proud, uuformed girl, mar- ry, how much better it would-be! She knew that her niece was precisely the style that he admired—elegant, delicate, utterly Incapable of any origi- nality, ready at any moment to yield her opinions and ideas, ready todo implicitly as she was told, to believe in the superiority of her lrusband—a model woman, in short, after Sir Oswald’s own heart. She saw that the baronet was much struck with Elinor; she knew that in his own mind he was conirasting the two girls—the grace- ful timidity of the one, her perfect polish of manner, with the brusque independence and terribly plain-spuken fash- ion of the other. “It would be ten thousand pities,”’ said Lady Hampton to herself, ‘to see that girl mistress of Darrell Court. She would make a good queen for the Sandwich Islands. Be- fore i go, 1 must open Sir Oswald’s eyes, and give him a few useful hints.” [TO BE CONTINUED.] HISTORICAL ITEMS. THE surrender of Burgoyne to Gen. Gates at Sara- toga, Oct, 17, 1777, was the turning-point of the Revolution. The American troops marched into the British encampments to the tune of Yankee Doodle. Burgoyne had clung to the hope that Sir Henry Clintou would advance up the Hudsen to Albuny in time for his relief, but he finally called a council of his officers, and, without a dissenting voice, they advised capitulation. | 1,856 prisoners of war, 5,791 paroled men, 4,600 muskets, and 42 brass. cannon, were the trophies of the Americans, Tue first work printed in America was the *‘Free- man’s Oath.”? It appeared in Cambridge, Mass,, in 1639. The second was an almanac, calculated for New England, by Pierce, a mariner. The third was “The Psalms, newly turned into meter.” THE vest worn by Israel Putnam when he escaped from the British soldiers in his ride down the stone steps at Stan- ford, Conn., in 1779, is in’ the possession of Mrs. Wm. Perry, of Kenton county, Kentucky, the grand-miece of the revolutionary hero. Like “Old Grimes’,” the vest 1s all buttoned down before. THE following was a law in Rhode Island many years age: No practitioner of the law whatsoever shall be chosen a deputy for any town in this colony during his practicing as such. THE fiftieth anniversary of Washington’s inaugura- tion as President of the U. S. States, was celebrated in New York as ajubilee of the Constitution, and John Quincy Adams deliy- ered an oration before the Histwrical Society, April 30, 1840. THE first importation of raw cotton into England from Brazil occurred in 1782. SLATOR, an Englishman, built the first American cotton factory, at Pawtucket, Rhode Island, in 1790, QUEEN SUMMER. INCREASING IN LOVE. BY WILLIAM ROSS WALLACH. When the blue eyes ot Summer Enchantingly shine; When her brown hands thril] over The opulent vine; When her hot feet are laved in The cool agure streams; When upon her warm bosom The reyal rose beams, While the birds are all singing Below and above, And the Earth and the Heaven Are Edened in love, O, where, then, doting mothers, Blessed high and below, Will ye with your dear daughters Tn unison go? Fo the spot by Queen Summer Invited so sweet, Where the birds and the breezes In paradise meet— Where in all her fond breathings Each mother can jearn How for all her dear ehildren Her melodies yearn: To that spot should ye hasten, Each mother and child, And her throbs of affection Return in the wild. O, thus mother and daughter By angels above And fond Summer below will Be Edened in love, Sull both mother and daughter Increasiug their love! WORKING FOR WAGHS: sort ORs JESSIE AND THE FARM-HAND. By Julie P. Smith, Author of “TEN OLD MAIDS,” etc., etc, {Working for Wages” was commenced last week. Ask any News Dealer for No. 31, and you will get the opening chapters. } CHAPTER IY. JESSIE'S PHILANTHROPY, When Miss Wilmerding returned to the house she went straight to her room and locked the door. Taking out her treasures she carefully bestowed them in a pretty flat box she had constructed with dainty care from paste- beard, covered and lined very neatly with blue silk. She took great pride and pleasure in adorning her apartment, and the ‘inner rests”? inhabited by her and Honoria were in marked contrast with the elegant sleeping chamber oc- cupied by Miss Penelope Ann. Ouly modern furniture of the choicest found entrance there, while their rooms were & collection of pretty make-shifts—all sorts of country trophies, put up according to their own tastes, and guth- ered with their own. hands. Jessie had in one corner, upon a queer bracket built on spools, a wasp’s-nest, whose paper celis were drab and satiny as a Quaker lady's bon- het, groups of autuin leaves and grasses in a vase, whose broken ioot had been cleverly replaced by a cris-cross work of weven reeds; half-a-iozen water-color sketches of wild flowers she had made and framed in berries and mosses, hung on the while-washed walls; and a book-rack, which Lamport Caladore contrived one rainy day under vigorous urging, from pealed ‘irch limbs, cunningly woven together after the manner of the straw borders 8@ much in use for photographs, was laid upon a little three- legged stand, and filled with choice volumes; and before the bed was a mat of platied rags of the gayest colors she could find—which she called her **Persian rug,’”’—and on whieh she knelt every night tosay her prayers, Jessie liked the evenings round the lamp where she and Honoria worked—and even Penelope Aun held some bit of worsted in her Janguid hands, and Uncle Winchester played backgammon witli such parties as he could get—ag much as any part of her day. Perhaps one reason might be, because she got praised for her achievements, and was greatly admired and wondered at by the little peopte, who generally joined their forces with the Wolcotts, and got leave to set up when extra busy till ‘‘half-past.” l think Miss Jessie was perhaps rather proud of her in- genuity and capacity with her needle and pencil, lier brushes, sewing-machine, and any other implement she set her mind on using; of her orderly system of Keeping accounts, journal, and household lists; of the numerous bags, small and great, all marked with her name neatly written on strips of white tape, and sewed in finestitches, which held lier diverse possessions; her promptness in letter-writing, skill in marking linen, daruing stockings, arranging bouquets, tying gorgeous bows, dressing her raven jocks, polishing her finger-nails,:all of which con- densed in one woman, with handiness, hardy health, and ability for a- rapid turn-off of her undertakings, comprise rather more than Mrs, Stowe's ‘faculty.’ In fact, Lam- port. Caladore observed, with a shudder, as he watched her multiform occupations: “Eh, a business woman!—a thorn.in the side of domestic quiet! Ye gods, proteet Ho- noria from following her exXample—or there will be a nice society-wife spoiled!” Having money enough for ali her wants, she had learned to act for herself and others also; and at Esperanza she hever shirked the hard work or inconveniences of the great family there assembled, or dodged any reasonable demand upon her hands, head, ortime. Jessie’s room was usually the first one given up to extra guests, and: Jessie’s puddings, pies and jellies adorned the table much oftener than Penelope Aun’s or even Aunt Mabel’s, J must tell you a little about the house before we go any further, It was an old mansion. More than a hundred years had swung around since the first Timothy Winches- ter placed the corner-stone, with a long prayer for blessing upon the projected dwelling and its occupants. There were outside dvors to nearly all the rooms, plenty of dor- mer windows, coruer ‘‘spaces,”’ old) cupbourds and: hid- ing-places. But, though a large habitation, it was not cupacious enough to hold all the friends who flocked about the hospitable owner, who was accustomed to say, with immense heartiness to everybody he inked: ‘Come up for amonth, dol? and they frequently did come up, insomuch that Aunt Mabel said: ‘‘Merey on us! we might as well keep a hotel and done with it, Mr. Winchester,” Early in the season Jessie had incited her uncle to move aframe building, Constructed with lavish disregard of lumber, for occupauucy by the hogs, up into a pretty corner of the old meadow. It was new-windowed, new-doored, and ornamented out of its old self, fitted up with a set of rustic furniture, planted about with heart’s-ease, and christened ‘Pausy Lodge; and Mr. Eustace, though he pooh-poohed immensely at the whole proceeding, made himseif extremely comfortable in its cheerful interior. Next she turned her attention to a vast barn, whicli was not needed on the place, aud she and Mr, Winchester, af- ter looking it over and over, proceeded to finish the upper portion into sleeping-rooms, and clear out the whole of the lower fluor for a hall, wherein to hoid festive gather- ings, theatricals, Charades, etc.; aud really there was noth- ing about the estat.siment which con!ributed so much to the pleasure of the housenold as Jessie’s barn. After a formal silting on the subject Lamport suggested *“*Wiimer- ding’s Whimsie,’? and Uncle Wiu said they would stop there; time and hurried utterance contracted the title to “Whim,’? andit was there were housed the vachelors, who had baiconies, and dormers, and verandas of their own, and who were wont to occupy the lower part as@ boxing’ and shooting-gallery when shutin by stress of weather, The house-windows looked out over the orchard and rolling meadows, and commanded a view of the beautiful hills. beyond, with Yellow Mountain on the right, from whose towering biuif? could be seen such a spread of beau- ties as could never fade from the memory. Tne steep roof of the great mansion descended with a benevolent slaut for a good depth, then suddenly chang- ing its method: it sharply dropped, but compromised the BSeeming vaciliation by alfording space and opportunity for some of the broadest, easiest, completest jutting win- dows imaginable, which were, in fact, little rooms of themselves. In one of these Jessie Wilmerding stood looking out, and thinking over her morning. Away down among the alders she could see a tall fellow cutting and slashing for dear life. “He is making up for lost time,” said she. , A downward glance lighted on her boots, which, thoug dried, still bore marks of her cow-stocking bath, and as she sat down to remove them, her thoughts still lingered in the pasture, and she unwillingly admitted, among her reflections, the unpleasant thought that she had been less Civil (she, wio prided herself upon her blood and breed- ing) in the‘morning’s adventure than the hired servant; and now that it was over she could not find the motive. She took another look at the speckled things in the silken box. In a separate couipartmeut lay the purple martin’s eggs. Mpnose should be buff, dotted with crimson, he said, but they are nol; they are as while as pearis. 1 shail tell Gigante so if lever speak to him again. I wish I hadn’t been so rude. I wonder if | ought not to make an oppor- tunity for avery slight apology.. A Wilmerding should be always courteous.’’ And Jessie laughed to herself as she thought how oddly her high-flown maxims and her extremely frank and girlish actions coincided. ‘Oh, - well,’? she decided, ‘I am not quite a thousand yet. The ‘settled harmony of character’? which dear Miss Jovy used to lecture me upon will round out complete after a while; meantime 1'H get rid of this tattered garb of mine,” Miss Jessie dressed herself ina pretty piuk cambrie, which she looped up very gracefully over a skirt of black silk, put her giossy hair into braids, with a curonuet above her rather low forehead, filled with finger-puffs; aud she descended the stairs on purpose to fetch a couple of clove pinks from Aunt Mabel’s collection, which were sunning theinselves on the wide piazza waiting to be planted out, and felt well-pleased with their effect and with her toué ensemble, as she pul away all her dressing things and left the rooin, When. she appeared at the dinner-table, Penelope Ann exclaimed: & tg 4