c n n . . . . . o .

 

 

    

2:: «9‘ 145%., E

 yfiglfli’ ._‘884’ by BEADLE.A~__ND .41)?“ BMW“ m “"3 Pm“ Om“ “t Nl’w Yuk, N- Y” 86 Second Class Mai! Mutter. Nov. 11. 1884.

 

 

 

W”  PUBLISIiJiEWEEIELYBY BEADLE AND ADAMS p -
VOL' 11' 3%33“ No. 98 William Street, New York. ’ Fivenézeer'nts.  

 

 

HER FOOT WAS ALREADY on THE STEPS on- THE CAR. WHEN A voxcn SAID, REPROACEF‘ULLY:
“WILL YOU NOT SAY ‘aoon-BY’ To ME ALSO?”

THE COUNTRY UBUSIN; 25$,1;:ggezifj'hfis‘fgizme*‘zinyatgrtz'i:
e mam passes.

- w . “W11, EI' b th. on have been a cod ‘1
01" ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT (1L1 PTERS' and ygu half: niy missing, and my bgst wigga;

317 305E KENNEDX for your succeSS among your nevy acquaintance. ..
-—-——— May the wicked Influence of a Vile and corrupt

"' CHAPTER I. city never do away with the teachings of your-
THE GOOD'BY. . now sainted mother. New York is a. den of

F‘fAre you sure you have forgotten nothing,  wickedness. You will be alamb among lions,
Alzabeth?” I and I wonder that you have courage to set your

 

'4» 
,.  if. ‘:

 

, ‘ run security comm;  :

  

‘\ , -,-, I .'J fl :0

 

 ' repels-it. But,,siuce you amigo: may'youbo
r  ,iwise'esa serpent and harmless he " ’”’
' “Why, auntie, you talk:  in
2*. going-unprotected to seek‘ mg“ 1,
annual! I were to be in. the ,1  p , " “fa. I
 I} like-that of my uncle Philip: :‘What‘ harm
'  befall me there? I expect to be unwrapped
,,' flay from common humanity among my
 afiematicgrelativesthat I shall actually pine
for El breezes from Heaven to visit my cheek
 too roughly.’ Ishall miss the freedom of my
, native hills, but, aside from that, I go with
high hopes, aunt Faithful.”
“That is the way of youth; it goes dancing and
,' laughing, even among pitfalls. The dangers
which I refer to, niece, are spiritual dangers.
"I know your aunt Vanderlyn of old, and her

      
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
  

    
   

.4 csfich'perents—worldliness, and .mlflshnesnand
' minimum vainglory, from. the crowns of their
_ headsto the soles of their feet. It is their in-
 oyexq your heart and mind that 'I

 ell-Don‘t you think you judge too harshly,
flaunt? Remember, they have been differently
 educated, and move in a different world from
 .- They are compelled to pay attention to
 outside show, yet their hearts may be exoel—
' l  I am sure it was, kind’ of them to offer
.  a hem for such a merely nominal consid~
‘  ' And only last week I saw uncle Phil-
‘ "Vs;th . heading a contribution for some
~ “table purpose with a7 liberal sum. Oh,
» ,_ aunt Faithful, it you knew the motives which
 v'  me in, choosing the city for a
_ A flamenco, you would wish me God. Speed and
  mysucce‘ss.’ I have such dreams-s-
‘ happy expectations!” -
,j ‘ The men: the speaker was lit'wit-h a glow
9 of almost angelic beauty. Her hopes must
. have been pure, or they could not have filled
:7 that} dark-blue eyes with such soul-lit ra—
 dium. Always lovely,‘at that moment Eliz-
 abeth Ward was unusually so. Excitement
' hightened the color upon her cheek, and sent

 

  

«.  trunks, carpet-bags and shawls around her.
’ Her figure, *neither petite "nor yet queenly.
moved by the very spirit of grace and rounded
, f in 'every outline, gave a charm of its town to
,. her simple traveling-dress. Her bonnet was
 \ still in her hand, and her brown hair fluttered
 inltheybreeze, shining as it its curls had been
, poWdered with gold. It was an autumn day,
7 ', v. warm and. brilliant; the vines which nestled
'  aroundthe top oil-the porch dropped crimson
" 1 leaves ;. at her feet; the rose-busheshad ex-
' f  theirgdelicate bloom for the scarlet
 .‘berrles of October;
I, “ ’ ’ Aunt Faithful had drawn her chair to the
.7 ‘ Pomhgdoor,wheresheconld see the first puff

     

- husband, and‘What her mme must be with’

 

‘pose of it to the poor around us; and by send- .

‘ city one sees constantly such processing wants, 

 

or the iron horse a. teamed out attainme-
tain hollow, breathin fire and smoke fromf‘his

' nostrils as he sped forward to the  depot

not very'far from this co " , Her ’
knitting was in her hand,v_as”us;nal, indthfe’r
spectacles on her nose, but thevneedlesquivel‘s

'ed and made false stitches, and  glasses

were dimmed so that she could not see with '
her usual clear-noes as she looked toward the
young girl standing there in her traveling cos-
tume. ' ~ 

“ It’s time John took these trunks away, if '-
you don’t want to be left. 011, here he comes!
Well—-” after a- pause, during which the bags
gage was conveyed away—“do you. propose
to tell me what your expectations are, Eliza--
both?” " _
A modest blush flitted over that youthful
brow. ' « f
“ I can not tell you my plans at length, be«
cause they are not formed, definitely. . I

“Some time I" will write to you and get
your advice. You know that the property
which was left me has been soarranged as to
leave me a clear income of a thousand dollars 1“
a year, with nothing for me to do but to draw
it quarterly. This is much more than I need, .
or shouldspeud upon myself. ' My personal ex- , g
penses herein this village'havebeen only abouts
hundred‘dollars a year; yet 'I have dressed
well, and! know that twice that sum will dress
me just as nicely as I desire 0r think proper. . ‘
I have made a resolution to limit myself to
that sum. One huu more will cover inci-
dental expenses. My uncle atfirst refused to . —
take anything for my board, but, finally, at "
my urgent'selicttatlon,sald Lmlght pay ever u
to Blanche just-"two hundred'n ‘year, to keep
her in  shapingtelling me, laugh-

‘ud'éo . .

‘ ingly, that his daughter waspotten ‘redueedto

a more skeleton? tor the want of a new dress
to wear overit. Yet he allow her six hun-
dred just for clothing, besides the splendid
oresents she has. 1 expect she will laugh. at

' ~ g , ‘ sly simplicity, but I do not intend, to be ins 
_ r-rippliug smiles in sunshine about her 11
, month. She stood upon the porch, with her 

{tended in what I have
3'“ New, I shall havehal! my income to devote _
to the benefit of others. It is true that, living
in this country place, I might manage to dis- .»

madeu  of, g;

  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 

ing it to charitable institutions But in the g:

and can judge, by personal observation, ,
where the means will produce the best eflect. » 1:
I do notintend to give myself up, to society “I
entirelyg‘ne, nor even to my behaved~ books,
nor to the enchantmenta climatic and the fine
arts, although I have a love-gorT-all of these;
but I wish to work—~todo something to accom’
plish some good. I mean to makex‘nyhalta
thousand dollars "at, year. confer benefits upon

 

   

 

yearn tohe actively charitable; , ,With youth,

health, leisure, and tome money to... spare, I

, ’ ought tgaocomplish a Iii:th very little

t- the 00d work whichtheMaster .hasleit his
33%“ to do.” ' “-

. j . atrer‘nbled upon her eyelashes as‘she

 

ceased speaking. , ,

“ W'ell, child, I believe in your intentions,

and shall not cease to pray that they may he

' fulfilled. The Bible says, ‘Lead us not into

temptation} and I can but feel that you are

leading yourself into temptat‘mn. 1t grieves
me to let you go. What’s that?” l

.“ The whistle, auntie, and I must go.”

The bonnet was tied on with quivering fin—
gers, and a face all drenched with tears, like a
rose with dew, lay for a moment upon the
bosom of aunt Faithful, who had dropped
stocking and spectacles, and sprung to her
feet. -  . “  -

“ Good-by, my dear, dear auntie,” was half
lost in sobs. * ,

‘ “ Fare thee well, child, and remember, if ever

 

 you’ grow tired of the world, and long for
 , rest, while this heart still beats there is a shel-
 Al'teriioryou here.” - _ . L

 These trembling tones quite broke down the

young girl’s courage, and for a moment she r

‘ wept unrestrainedly, then, with an effort, she
- recovered herself, gave aunt Faithful hne more
embrace, and ran down the lane to the street.
_'Several of her young friends were waiting at
the depot‘to sayfarewell. ‘ She had justtime
to give a hand to each, when the train, came
thundering in, and paused for a moment by
’ -the platform. \ f , ,
' .Eer'foot was already on the steps of the car,
when a voice said, reproachfully: V i
.“7 Will you not say ‘ good~by ’ to me also?”
,- She turned and beheld , theyoung minister
of the village. There was something in his
. eyes Whichthrilled her as they never had be-
fore; but  had no time to reflect upon their
lan’guagfii no: to mark the, tremor oi the
voice.  '
 “I thought you had forgotten your par-
; ishoner, that here is something which I had
’ .prepared'asa' little farewell gift to my EOOd
. 'minister;” and she slipped a bit of folded
'mper‘ in his hand. The bell rung, she stepped
’ inside, and the ears were whirling away.
, '* .When she handed Mr. Hastings the paper, a
‘ ' sprig otmyrtle, which she had plucked as she
 ran down’the lane, dropped uponthe platform.
 He ‘ fthiehp, when all the others had
., turned away, and, hurrying dawn the village

 

 which he held, until lie Was in the seclusion of
_ hixown apart V ‘eW’hen. he did unfold it;
 “We _.ehecke  disclosed, and a
" , *f’ewwords, saying, ‘f One is. to purchase books

 

 

    

others, i and," tux-6th them, upon hiya-tiff.  ,ie‘eyf‘pameno

‘ V street to his home, he, did-not unclean the note *

 
   

2%

{5’

7 laser's segments 7  
»seesflt,incharity.’f ' ~ /  ’ v
l

l

x

i. ‘1‘ The transmitmurmured  - 
tar. V V  r,  ‘ "I. 4‘1 x , A" I, “9’   .‘_‘
In the  our young adventurer,  ' 
, nestled in another of the seat, was looking    1,,

. her open windéw, enjoying the! summations!- ‘ , i"
; the audit motion, the bright- air and'pleneant '

‘ scenery. Foratime she forgot‘hereorromlat' “

E leaving heme, and her anticipations or theinr
tare; she forgotthat she had neither father-.019"
mother, sister or brother, and that  must
rely almost entirely upon herself for happiness, 1/
and direct, almost unaided, her own footstegs'v
Elizabeth’s was no ordinarycharacter. If her “‘
exceedingly sweet and noble countenance”? 
rested the attention of the careless 'behpldery:
not less did the purity of her soul charm those ;
who were able to appreciate it, and beheading»
qualities of mind excited admiration. Thatshe _,
was very pretty and rich-that is, richgfona 
retired country town—everybody in Fikhbtu‘gfif

, knew; but the reasons which impelled townie;
more enlarged space of life, Imbodyyinethvencr

‘ her hunt or ‘ the minister, fully undermrf

Her father, the leading lawyer of 

and finallyr Ifresiding Judge of the Dietrichdied ,

when she was in her sixteenth year;  I "

, been a gentleman of polished education

2 some genius, and had delighted in unfairlth "

v the mind of his only child knowledge ‘

the ordinary courts of schooling, she 'nevgr 

would have acquired. There \were'systeméatld, ~
symmetry to her actiuirementsx ,  tilt

tough and firm young “tree of  w l

which thrived and grewiun'der his skillful 

' lvation,jeirpanded the flowers or ' feminihefiemé

, hellishmentnecessary to its full 

V which was the mother’s sweetest 

  
    
   
  
   
   
   
    
  
   
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
   

  

 

2 ever, her fine spiritual perceptions Vzandf'nttet
womanly heartv—Was ones! Elizabeth’saecem
plishments'. She had never , heed 
“boarding-school.” ’ All that she knew; attire
world, outside of her books and her image
home, she had learned during the honour a»
cursions : which Judge Ward  “in, the 

V of taking each summer with hiswife 

'r and during one 01'. two brief visits, tohgefisgty

relatives, several years: before the 
ment of this record. A year had not 
from the death of her father, before her‘methq, 

' er went to her long resting-planer   ,
lationfias this, to a young, andsensitive  » ' _ I

'was desolation indeed; and, for a time, aunt , 5 "

 Faithful. in whose home the orphan sought  
uge, feared that the golden bo’wl would he f' ‘
broken at the fountain of grief.  :  I 

‘ Hope isstrong in the young'end' healthful;

"The rolling months brought arenewal'ef in; 

,‘terest in liie; but a thoughtfulness was 

‘to Elizabeth’s character, which othsrifiee

might‘never have been. ‘ , . "  

 

     
 

/ 4,1,:  g. .,

,.

 ,
W

»’ r ‘ ‘: So here, a‘little pert her, eighteenth birthday,
j?" ,1 f, she was-rahoutto try the world for herselfr As
  her eyes wearied of the flitting landscape, she

‘ drew her! vail over her face, and‘gave herself

  g It? Municipal/thus or her reception at her new

   
 
  

.5 1 v, ,cle Vanderlyn’s' Shelled not seen ,Blanche tor
; fonryears, who then. was, of  but a
1  i , school-girl, with her character as undeveloped
 ‘ as her fol-mud features. She then had prom:
 ' a . " to be brilliant—looking, though at that
 ’ one dark and sallow, and a little overgrown.
'i f’ Already had she begun to chatter about “the
'heauxg” and had all the lore of. a fashionable
 > boarding-school in her quick braid , Elizabeth
had liked her,'for Blanche knew well how to
please, and how to conceal knowledge that
would be offensive
‘, The traveler looked forward to finding a
i in her city-bred cousin. As for her aunt
 Alice, she never expected her to be any thing
more than a pleasant aunt to her, for she had
contrasted her with her own mother, years ago,
‘ and found her. sadly deficient in some qualities.
‘LtnMrsl'Vanderlyn was emphatically a “ woman
 For  world.” Uncle ,I’hilip would be a cour-
  aflahle, generous uncle, who would kiss
‘ her occasionally, when he felt merry after
’ dinner, and let her have her own way: , There
 :WwaZs-janother‘member of the family whom she
'3 , had not yet seenmat least, not since she was a
, "Alrttletclrlld-‘n—and that was Philip Vanderlyn,
 ’*’ junior, her young gentleman cousin, who had
.  fiaris for the last five years studying

  
  
    
  
 
 
   
   
 
   
 
 
  
  
   
    
   
   
  
  
  
   

‘, ‘ medicine andwFrench society.

" 1 '~  understood from Blanche’s last let-
tergt'fhatdhey eXpected him home some time
,dufiugjthelwinter; but Elizabeth had as yet
given him only a passing thought, as to
awhehher she would like him, and if he would

.113?) ', ' I , r

' Finally, by a sudden sweep, round came the
thoughts of the young girl to the minister, and
his earnest [look which had for a moment sur-
‘ prisedth ' Herc-heart beat/quicker. She was
, not-Maud had never perceived in the fre-
4 queutconversations and visits of her pastor,
an thing more than that they were congenial,
A , poetry, and lending each other books,
k out of love for the books and pootry. But his
 eyed-at parting, had spoken a language which
in she, tried in vain to misunderstand. She did
 ,not know,tvhether to be glad ‘or sorry? nor
’n What would come yet of it. She certainly had

E

 

H ms genius, and esteemed his pure and elevated
?  “may of ,the schemes of philanthropy
_  Werequicltening in her heart, had sprung

  new, whatmorei She could not answer.
1 . V Throwing back her veil with a deep breath,
 as u  on too” heavy thoughts, the

l‘ V '1'

. coma-perm

'-young traveler ldoked’di‘o’und, and found that _,
night d come; She’begau to be conscioue of , 
‘ and Was‘ not sorry the next time ‘
the train stopped, to/hear the conductor cry: 

sores very critical ‘in his judgments upon-

heeu‘doeply interested in his society, admired

1 » tram germs which his teachings had scattered?

 

 
 
  

., I 7 u l. .. '
Us" \ '» '

hunger,
“ Half an hour fors‘upper."

Having telegraphed to her, uncle, ae'weilas‘ ’ "

written, that she would arrive that evening,

she gave herself no uneasiness at the wantoi' a, f

protector; but havingva whole seat to herself,
after tea, she curled up in !it snugly, and tool:

‘quite a refreshing sleep. «

With a prolonged scream that sent the pas-
sengers to gathering together stray articles of
wearing apparel, overcoats and carpet-bags, a
ringing of bells and glimmer of lights, the

train slackened'and paused.. Elizabeth’s heart

gave a bound, and then sunk low for a mo-
ment. She had arrived at the threshold of her
new life. ‘ I '

She found her uncle‘s carriage aWaiting her.

It was eleven o’clock when'she arrived at his .
house. Her aunt came into the hallto meet, '

her. The parlors were illuminated, and‘ there

was company-30 the traveler passed on, to r

her room. Blanche ran up to kiss and ’welcoine ,
her, and then excused herself until her com.
pany should depart. ' ,  . .
A waiting-maid brought her a cup of“ tea,
and opened the trunk and traveling-bag, whose
contents she required. She was'already inher
nightdress, and brushing out her hair before
retiring, when Blanche bounded into the room,
asked the privilege of sharing her bed, and was

soon nestled by her side, and kept her awake , a
and curious two hours with a whirlth of r 

 

small talk , V -

anPrER II. .
smannh Minx; .

“ IT was richly wort a t’sw

To trudge for many apggary mile ‘ ..

To meet the light of her careless mile, ’
Or for an who wishmi to see the style V
01’ the [Zitest promenade dresses. » -«,~.  v
She seemed a land of wonderful thing,
Angelic, enchanting, andglittering,
Wi a step like the wave of a Pen a wing.

Andahettnreeweeksnomrmww,' 
BLANcnr. was heat upon astonishing her, i ,l 

country cousin. It was after a late breakfast

the day following Elizabeth’s arrivah ' The, 

girls "had gone to their room, or roomHor
their private apartments consisted of h suite,
including one large chamber, half ' parlor, 
boudoir, and two pleasant sleeping-reams open-

ing 01!, with closets and bath. 

carpets and lounges, miners large enough/to
reflect the tall onset of a toilet, and everylittlo
article of beauty and cultivated necessity, fair-
ly crowded the space. “French paintings of
women, beautiful in dress and  little
gemsof that school of art, hung upon the’walle,

betraying the taste of their possessor. ‘ ' ' ’

Blanche had more than  her saris I

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

m meme com; 1  ' 5 ~  f,

promise.» She was a superhlooking girl, ax.
quisite in dress, Iqueenly in carriage, with black
hair, brilliant dark eyes; and a J unolike form.
.7 Elizabeth loved the tasteful and the beautiful,
and was too tree from envy to think with any-
thing but aflectionate regard o: the graces
which her city cousin was playing 01! to dazzle
her.” " . ,
“Just see. this closet, ho‘v‘v full it is of
dresses! And not one of them are summer-
dnesses. Those that I were at Newport are in
these three trunks 'packed away. They are
full of let'er _robes. I have five moire-
4 antiques. ' Look at this crimson one—it isyery
= -'- becoming to my complexion. 1 look like a.
$5 princess in it.” _ A
I ' > “I believe you,” said Elizabeth, quietly...
“‘ I have thirty-seven petticoats,” continued
Blanche. ,

“ Indeed?” ‘ c
“ And fifteen different shawls!”
. “So many!”

 “ On my last birthday—I was nineteen, you
 knowkpopa gave me a set of pearls worth a.
 2 thousand dollars. _ Momma gave me this
camel’shnir shawl. I had Several costly pres-
" "ants. besides, trom friends and relatives. I
have so many presents, Lizzie dear, do you?”
» V “ You must remember I have never enjoyed
the pleasure of being a belle, cousin Blanche;
g still, I have‘rewived some presents. My aunt
~ Faithful gave me this purse, which she crotch-
eted herself, and I prize it as highly as you do
' " your camel’s-hair.” > _
V “ Flo! what funny taste! How nice it must
-' “be to have a. fortune, allot your own,'with
liberty to spend it just as you choose. If I
were you, I would never content myself open
‘316 interest. I should encroach upon the prime
cimhfind t’rustto catching a rich husband to
restore it.” , ' .
f: “ Why. Blanche!” »
-~ “ You look frightened, yen little puss. ' Do
you thinkth’at girls must wait tube Caught,
and never halt the hook themselves, eh? It’s a
3333i mistake, my pretty country maiden.
"" However, you need not think that I am fishing
$01“ any, mortal being. ,I have too many ofiers
90w. I have had thirteen already. How
eany'hm you had, Lizzie!”
'“ Not one.” ‘ y p
. , “ Inpossihlel end so rich and so pretty, tor
I mayor: are very prettywthough of a
,dlflerent order of, beauty from mine. Not so
"hiking. I wish I had your complexion; your
 velvety and {air as silly-leaf. Do
FOR =90Wd§erl Roi I always do. I do not
 I My’s toilet is complete without pow-
“th I smsoglad you are going to be with
fa“ this-winterf We are going to be very gay,
“M it‘wlll be so nice tohave some one to help

 

   
   
  
   
     
   
   
   
  
   
  
  
 
  
   

 

 filitertain company. I have already. de— V

 

cided upon what “I am‘ going to order to; New.
Year’s day, to reheive calls in-a -roseoolored
flounced robe,‘ with yelvet. ' Mercyl».these are

not all the dresses you possess. I hope!”  ~ 1" 

into the closet where Nannette'had   “

folding and hanging up the contents 36'!  I

Ward’strunks. ‘ r
“ I have always had
laughed Elizabeth. r
‘ “ Well! you will want mercy times as
now.
money; we shall have such excitement in  I r

ping for you! I love to shOp the best of  »
You mnetletine, 
select for you; my friends say my taste is-

' Perfect.”  ‘ v 

thing in the worldmalmOstl

J

Elizabeth thought it altogether probable

she should; exercise her Own judgment,  r
taste, as she was aware that she  consider? i

able of both; but she did not any so. 

‘ sought to drop the dress question; t: it};

quiring: ‘ - ‘ »

"‘ Do you really expect your brother
home this winter?” '

“Yes, indeed, in
so glad to see him, for he has been gone 
years. I hope he will bring me some 
things. They say he is a great top,‘ my w
fond of society. So we three will   
house merry." ' ‘

 J?

kind of an ‘aaide,’ like a painting on the wall.

5 I am not accustomed to much geyety; and it 5 ”

you will let me'keep my room and read
books in peace, I shall be happy.” .

“I, shall do nothing or the kind, 
Lizzie. You were not ‘boru to waste your

sweetness on the desert air.’ Bookie, indeed“!  ' L,

I got through with them when I was at school,;:
except the new novels, and a little of Long'-
tellow’s poetry, or Alexander Smith’s.
son is sweet, don’t you think so?" ‘

Elizabeth felt very much disappointed. .  .

had hoped for congeniath of in:  V J

beautiful cousin; but if the‘mornin'gls. .
satiou was a specimen of. what was  »
saw little was to be expected. Stilhshomight:
display more mind asthey grew better.  

quainted. That shelled a fine intellect," 
Ithad been misdirected i

did not doubt. 1
childhood, and {was smothered tinder a 
tsin organza, and. silk, and vanity,
pery. ‘ . , v 

“ Do you pay much attention to your music "
now, Blanche?” r . ’ ‘

“Oh yes, I have to keep that up. It is m: s = *
of my ‘cards.’ 'I play all or Wallace’s music,
and the tashionable operaav My voice is inst
suited to opera music. I have been told‘by '
some of my friends that I sing the 0m Dita L
But 1 ‘

.4} 

almost equal to Madame La Grange."
come, lunch  ready? With their  about;

I 3*,

 

. xv‘

us menyas 

I « hope you have brought plenty. of; "

  

about a month, I  

, “VI shall‘be bute  in x 

my:  .

Imus; 

and 

   
   
 
 
  
  
  
   

- .i.

_ s

,,

.y/k I ,‘

: -_ s» 
s , 1;; .
' :2...‘

*l.’
. .A,

 

x

N .e,

* each'other’s waists, they descendedtothe dining-
”;room. , Mr. Vanderlyn. was never home until
 gdinner; [so there was no ceremony at lunch.

 ‘ Elizabeth had not seen her aunt at breakfast;

she had sent dowu word that she, was not well,
 upon her niece expressing anxiety con-

cerning her, Blanche said, laughingly:

.. g , ‘5 Do not be uneasy at mamma‘s complaints;
 jehe’always’has some ailment; but it is astonish-
kin‘ghow infalliny she revives as the hour for
" going out and receiving company arrives. She
 - } phaspdrank o: the fountain of perpetual youth;
 ,1 she is the greatest rival I have, despite her ill-
]  . health.” _ 7 r ' a " ’ _ L

 ’ "-"ifl‘his flippsnt tone, while speaking of her
 i, -' "mother, pained Lizzie, who onlfithought and

‘7, fispoke other own mother with reverence and
‘ Affection the most beautiful. But, for this, be
_  7’it, remarked, Blanche was not so much to
 ’  ghlanie as her parent, who had never given her
, . ’;  ’tbdtgreason-to reverence her. She was an in-
"  dulgent mother, but one whose folly, efl’ectation
and vanity were quite apparent to the child
 ,. .brought'up after her own fashion-

'  fl  When theyentered thedining—room, Mrs. Van-

, riderl‘yn was at the table, magnificently dressed,
" j ' ,with bonnet and cloak on, and gloves lying by
 _, , her" side. She inquired with great kindness
   her .niece’s health and comfort, who as-
: , ,1 ,. her that ‘, she felt entirely rested by he
V two hours * of extra sleep before breakfast.
‘ “fitYou know we breakfast earlier in the coun-

itry, auht. ; Are you feeling nny better than
 ,yo'uwere in the morning?” ’

 ;4,~3,"",l hardly know whether ‘I am or not, my
, _ -" dear. 'I hope that a cup or strong tea. will im-

   sdmestrength to my nerves. I still have
w :a bad headache, «but the fresh air will revive
X ‘ h  Imust take advantage of the few bright

“C‘days which We will have‘nOW, to go out as
 u “:“much as possible. I am goingto make some

' ', and s1 all not return until» dinner. You
 yin not { onely, willyou? Blanche will take
.. é-‘f' ,  0!! you. ' But perhaps you would have

 “liked the carriage to-day tor a drive? It so, I
" ‘ ' will defer~-' fl '

. '  0h, no,,dear aunt, do not think of it.”

  
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
  

,; ’ pleasant enough for a promenade to—day, and
z 1  shall prefer to walk,” added Blanche.
 , “We, too, ’are‘going out, as soon as we can get

, I. n . ,

 

otter bf roses. Have you finished your tea? ‘

  "3,-5.41‘10 indeed, thank you, momma. «It isj

. , , 1 V ”own sex.
i- ,fi‘Iwasthinking you made rather a fine ‘

 

_ "‘  looking pair as you came in at the door, link
 “liken couple or Graces. You have grown up,
.  and stately as one of J uno’s’ lilies, Eli-v;
  . Blanche, with her darker and" more

 ' ,hrillisntcssnns,  be a splendid ion tor you. ‘
, You will both gain by the contrast.” « I
k  ~"-' 1 * new thinkwot it,” was the mod-

  
 
 
     

, “Inhoqu
‘ est, reply. ~ ‘
. .‘fDressuud person

at. attractions scorned“ the

   

I hand.

 

 

principal subjects of conversation, and the
new-comer did'not know.howto enter into it
with much spirit. ‘ ‘ [j  ~ . w 
“Well, young ladies, you must hasten your
repast if you wish to enjoy the sunshine. It
grows cool by four o’clock. Geode-by," and
with a wave of the hand and a gay smile she
moved toward the door. . g ‘ l'
' “How "very much like your mother you
are,” remarked Lizzie. » r " r r .7
“She is a rose in a little fuller bloom—that ,‘
is all—~hut, with not a petal withered yet. She -5
is gayer than I am now, and has more ad-
mirers. Nothing in the world would make my
mother so unhappy as the appearance .of' a gray~ 7
hair. Monsieur Lubin, who dresses her' hair, ‘
says it is the handsomest'he ever saw upon‘a _.
lady. The way she fights the. wrinklesl ‘1 Last  ‘
week she thought she discovered acrow’s foot, '
and she has not put Water on her face since.
She rubs it with a piece of _ tine flannel dipped
in the ‘Balm of Youth.’ If she could aflord :
it, she would preserve her bloom, as Cieopatra 
is ruinored‘ to have done, by a daily bath in r

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
    
 
  
   
     
   
   
 

Let us go, then. The avenue will'be'brilliant ;
to—day, and I wish you to. see it._”-_ . ‘ ':
Elizabeth, having the fly or upstranger '
in regard to the sights of   obey-g:
ed willingly the order to “ don her bestwalb 9
ing apparel," and was in readiness sometime
before Blanche con-Id complete her more e1abo: ;
rate toilet. - . . , ‘ w  ' I

“Stand forth and let me criticise,” co’mw
mended the, city cousin, with a mock-heroic'-.,
aii’.‘ “All very well indeed, mitt" cam; not”
remarkably splended, but nice! Your gloves 
and. guitars are all that could be desired, and "
they. are two of the tests." ' W _ , 

“Aristocracy and Democracy shows at the .23
fingers'and toes, does it? 'Weli, I wish I Could-"Ii
purchase a. pair of socks and a pair/of mittens; .‘
for every pair of. little purple. feet in New;
York.” ' V , ’  u  '_  

“ Dear me! What put that in your head? 
How doIlook?” p“  ‘ ~ , v r " .

’ Blanche turned from the mirror as she asked
the question, shaking out the folds of a; lace-
bordered handkerchief. Shefknew very we!
that she looked? beautiful, butxshewanted t9“
bear it, if even from theTmouthot one o: 'h’

“ You dazzle me so that I, cannotanswm
was the smiling reply. : p z r l 1' I

“That reply would havepdone tor a ‘pn 
man,” and the-twin girls, lathe" ) 5’
their youth, health, wealth,'aendi  de’
mended the broad staircase, a“ Servant; g
ery opened and closed the-door for than, '
they down the’marhle stepsto m
at their feet a beggsr~wemau holding out

  

 

w v,   1313I*Ifll3‘-Vijcwmsez;(ions-5n,f?"i~~ f ‘v " '

   

 

‘Blanche Swept by, but Elizabeth paused,  ,mymg‘safs withthe o: : a 7
took out her purse, and gave the beggar half a, ladies out upon the great, business. of 3' ’

. .“ You little f
, came up to her, “don’t you do that again. i
j You will have a crowd about your door all the
That was a professional beggar, and
you do much more harm than good by indis-
criminate giving Leave your charities with
the societies, whose business it is to decide up- "
on the merits or the claimant.
, more good in that way, and save yourself the
, trouble of thinking about it.”
“ I am sorry, Blanche, but I could not help
it. I did not know but that she might be suf— '

” said her cousin, as she“ ment of Madame Hellcat...  ,. ,

. “Indeed, it you go upon that principle in
New York, you will soon get tiredof the Work.
Did you remark that gentleman who bowed to
me? He is one of my. admirers, and mamme
He is terribly homely and de-
lightfully rich. They say he is - rather ‘ fast;’
but memma thinks he would reform if he were
married. I have neither discarded nor accept-

.'Elinabeth said nothing. The train of thought
suggested was very dilferent from any she had

been accustomed to. '

, They glided along in their beauty, 9. pair
even for poets to stare arr—one, at least, as in-
nocent as she was lovely, with a soul" that any v ~
poet might have sufiered and striven to have } blonde. That was, tenudollerss yard;

If Elisabeth had, the g "

purity of angelic unconsciousness _ oi evil, I' I

Blanche had the purity of pride. Her brow ;, ,must see that. the bonnet. is  at 

was cold and severebenenth the burning gaze, -  '  w s

of many a covetous eye.

favor would have liked to see the indolent lids
opened any wider for the fire of anger to long

She was desperate] y vain,

 

interested in himself.

None who prized her‘;

i

- from herde eyes, . .
. but too proud to display \it in public.

3‘ Ear. hint halfvsmile was cold 31ml sweet
A8 a. rich ice—cream, and her little feet,

To her hands her snowy \
silve film which a spider weaves, ,
wung points of the slender leaves
0! a pair of fragrant lilies." ..
. “ I had forgotten that Madame Follet has her
opening of hats tomorrow,” remarked Blanche, 
, as they came out ripen Broadway. M
  her he ' the best ogany that are imported, and
as I am one or her/most faithful customers, she ,
_ , 5 told the that/if! would keep it a profound so
‘A  em from all her other patrons, she would 9.]-
> , lowme to come in today and make a... private”
" selection. Dot us go! You, too, will have the
r ,  privilege,xheing under my wing. It’s too
,  to’wesr our winter bonnets, but if we
more the  chOioe, we might as wen pur-
 chase them new.”
 “ I suppose, as’ I am to have another hat, it
7 will .be as well.”

 

 

‘w.

  

 lives, until theyturned sside‘intothe establish- . 

 Vanderlynwss evidentl ‘ in hi '  " 3L
' here. Madame. Follet, all'smilgnnd,5s§hhig§g "
1 led the way, into a private Where
she graciously permitted them nfi 
of the choicest of her choice ,,.. 7 L ,
“ 0h, here, dear Lizzie, is shat thntilrwas'f
made for you! It could not you  W
So modest 'and unassuming, tool” 
Blanche, turning an elegant white  @0237
its pedestal of display. ’ '  7 j: 
f‘ It is indeed lovely, but too costly fondue, 
I fear,” replied Elizabeth, regarding 'itwith‘ “
favorable eyes.  ‘ ' .V . _ ‘ a   
“ Nonsenso, for ladies like you teem”?
theexpense," said the smiling prom-iota,  “It Ti:
is the sweetest thing I have in the they; 
let me try it on you, Miss Ward. 1  43R!»
gard yourself .in that minor;  .youi'not
angelic in it? You are so fair, and  “
your delicate complexion so well; Really; 
might say you were too charming in it!”  ,C _
The country girl blushed a little. _, She ins-Q
not used to being, flattered, even  ' m  ' ‘
woman. She asked the price.  _ ,-_
I“ It is but forty drillers, modernqu
“ That is too much.” I. "'3 .  .
I “ Too much? Just regard Well  

 

 

 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
      
   
   
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
   
  
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
  

  

this plume, which is the peculiar'eiegance of
the hat, was fifteen dollars alone:.;‘.1ndeed~,:yen ‘
' r “ I did not mean to saythat you  
much for such an article, but, that} most: ',
tent myself with _a less ex'pensiveons. flab
not wish to give more than  doling???
“ Did mademoiselle, say fifteen  
,quired the proprietress, in a  
Blanche very well understand, and-ims'ig,
 she had not been too pgoud,'Would  j ',
cued her color. ‘ , ' _  if f .
Elizabeth was not invulnerable  it, either,
4 half turning to her cousin, who ,
'herear;~ - 4, , i'  ‘
_ “ lam afraid mamma will 
rious to wear so-chesp a thing, when‘ymrhev
5 plenty of money. I shall pay  
which I heveselgacted, and low; ,  
slang withhn interior one? Youcr‘eitoom
to ruin your own prospects.” ’   ‘ 1 
The word penqu grated, , g éupon
Elizabeth’s sensitiveuature. Her  ’
vice and evident desire, the, 
sneer, more than the consciousnesshf‘méex
ceeding tastefulnessr‘of the 
break hervfirst resolution:   the:
\ forty-dollar. bonnet, which was ,‘tojh‘jé 
home the next eVening, after being  by
half who came to the opening on that-r-day. ,

  

 

H,
,v '

, \

.s ' '  v , rescomycofism.

 

or the falling of a pillar from “the edifice—all
the others give way the more easily. Elizabeth
felt the truth of this, as she sat in her room
and read a chapter of the New Testament, as
was" her wont before retiring, the .night'on

: which the purchase was made. The advice of

her aunt Faithful, to pray, “Lead as net into
temptation,” came back with force to her mind.
Blanche had told her, on her way home, that

' a hundreddollar cloak would alone suit her

beautiful bonnet, adding, “Isz be vain of

my pet cousin, seeing I can aflord not to be
‘ Mons.” -

" ., The next morning, Elizabeth was up two
*hours before breakfast. If she had been at

 long ramble that glorious morning.

horde in the country, she would have taken a
As it was,
about by her window and read for some time.
This window was pleasantly retired, looking

 down upon the little space of ground which

.‘\

Mr. Vanderlyn’s Wealth enabled him to retain
as a flower-garden, where the worth of every
foot was told by hundreds of dollars. Throw-
ing open the sash, the air which blew in stirred
her‘vigorous blood refreshingly. She thought

* shelwould wander down into the conservatory,

,, ' andbosn thence into the garden, now barren of

- ' all its summer may. Leaving her cousin still
  asleep, she stole out. The cosservatory was
' '. ojsweet—almost too oppressively so, and she

passed on out of doors, gathering a sprig of

2 1, evasgree'n or myrtle here and there, as an or
 for wondering about.‘ Her checks were
u  red asroses when she came in. and John, the

 

 

_ , who evidently admired her, out one
of his choicest hot~house‘roses and presented

 21m,» fate stopped to speak with him of the
flowers. When she entered the breakfast par-
ilor, there‘was no one at the table but her uncle

Vendor-1m: She came forward, smiling and

 “a sight to make an old man

 

 

 
  

 Young,”se'fresh,‘so buoyant, and such acou-

morning air of his wife

LI and daughter whenever they did ‘honor him

with  company that he doubly appreciated

’ itz

“Will M  my morning offering?”
shamed playfully as she laid the myrtle and

 A rose beside his plate.

 /‘ “All. thank'youl I wili takethemtoWall

V "4 street with! me to remind me of home,” he an-
swered, gallantly affixing them tohis coat.”

‘  “Why do you go to Wall street every day,

anoint, It seems to me that you might now,

',  laurels, and withdraw from the
ham

'  care of business. Yea enrich

‘ ‘; "n [its each s family as mine! Ah, you do
not-know!" ,
,'  the extravagant dog, and Blanche, and

They still cry ‘Give, give!" There’s

1  3 e all linow that one good resolution broken,
I is e the napping of a stone from a barrier,

, possible.

 

my  theworst of all. No, no! I‘must work!

Besides, it has become so a habit with me that _ l,

I do not know what I should do with my time.

_What could‘I do? I should be bored todeath

with idleness.” '

“Enjoy this luxurious home, uncle Philip— '

the library, your carriage, the society of your
family.
And then travel partlpf the time.”

“ Oh, I do go to Newport, or somewhere,
every season, and play billiards to pass the
time, while Blanche and her mother dress and
flirt. But it’s not so very amusing. I used to
think I should like to be at home more, but
there’s too much company. I get tired of it.
Wife and daughter live to please other men—-
don’t care much about me, except when they
want money, and then how pretty they. canbel
Still, they’re good—better than most, and I
like them. Wife looks superb at the head of
the table at dinner. Proud of her.
truth, I hate been a business man so long that

I have lost my taste for reading. Used to be ,

quite scholarly once, but the daily papers are

about all I get through with now. Sometimos ‘ > ‘

I stay at home evenings, sometimes go to the
opera, sometimes to the club.” '

“ I shall love the opera, I know," said Elissa ’

both, while her secret heart firms pondering
upon how solitary in wishes and  was
in most things. She should not’ have a friend
and adviser in her uncle’s family, she saw very
plainly. r

She felt interested in her uncle Vanderlyn.
She thought she could discern the elements of
what, should have been a better or a greater
man. Often was his name appended to liberal

sums contributed toWard fashionable objects of a

benevolence, but in his home circle she saw
none of the small droppings of charity; nor
could she discover that he had any other objeét
in all his scheming, than to keep up imposition,
and his family well supplied with money. She
had come to New York with an  pur-
pose to do some good work, especially for her
own sex, and longed to talk with her uncle
about it, as she could have done with her father

e had he beenalive. This, at present, was im-" ’,
for the L r

1 Her heart yearned, too,
affection which even his own child didinot
covet so much as she-din orphan, 'who must

. have something‘end'somebody to love, lavishly,

earnestly.  ' , I
“I will win him by a thousand thoughtful

attentions, to give me, too, a part of his

aflections,” she‘thonght. _  '

“ ncle Philip,” She said, sudden! ;'  ~ "

up when breakfast was finished, 5" wishyou

woulddet me love yen and wait upon you,” a,

daughfipn'.” , 
“Wait upon me!” he replied with a smile;

“ Blanche leaves that to the servants. V She has

Blanche’s flne music, every thing. V

 

 

 

‘ ‘ .',,'.. ,3 .v I . x '
..,:...+~..a<:-,i‘:‘ r. a  r ' '

Totellthe . 

mm-..e_- ._.... ., “Minna”. .. ..

‘ 3,;
-..v/

t  eaves-J 1

     
 

 

v not done so much for, 1139- inpa month as you
have in giving me this flower; It has sweetenq
ed my breakfast» But you shall be my second
daughter—yes, indeed i’l and-seeingthe tears

, were in her eyes, he came round and kissed

V her, before he buttoned his heart up in his
coat, preparatory to a day among the stock-
jobhers and meney-brokers.

Neither Mrs. Vanderlyn nor Blanche came
down to breakfast, 'buthad it served in their
rooms; after which they arose, to prepare for
visitors, as it was their “meeption ” day.
They expected an unwanted number of calls
on account of the beautiful wealthier: but, more
particularly, as they had given notice to their

' was to be added to their family.

' “All these calls to return—all this circle of
acquaintance to keep up,” thoughtElizabeth,
when the fatiguing day was over. .

' The evening Was comparatively quiet, and
she was rewarded for her eflorts in meeting
strangers all day by some fine music. Eliza-
beth could sing a clear, beautiful alto, which,
delighted Blanche, as it aided and accompanied

, her brilliant tones. She was surprised to find
hcr'housin’s' musical education equal to her

‘own. a Music was one of the things which

’ / ‘ Blanche‘reallydiked, aside from its being one

i ’ of her “cards.” ‘

 

. CHAPTER III.

‘ ' , n'oc'ron PHILIP.

"How for? like thee in rethe wretched out
“ Andcour’tthe officeso sotthumani i '

Like thee reserve their raiment for t a naked, .
_ Beach on their bread to feed the dying orphan,

Pam VANDERLYN, junior, or Dr. Philip,

, {as Blanche loved best to call him, come home
aft‘erh five years’ absence, during which he

hadseen his relatives twice—once when they

spent a month in Paris, and once when he paid

a flying visit. to his native city.

weredelighted to have him at home. Blanche

 

 
   
 
 
 
 
   
  
      
  

' Jsents he had brought for her.

M e a  to him,~may be inferred from the fact
 that new, whenever Philip was to spend an
7 , evening at home, his father remained also, env-
 joying his merry small—talk, and laughing even
 'at some rather'douhttol stories of the young
‘ Woman’sm ex ones. , e V
3 Elizabeth had wmered what she should-
‘think at her cousin. Now she found him an
insnzeratle top. At {least this was her first
opinion... H had eyedvber critically when in-
..troduced, an had been very conceited and con-
‘ilesoending. She had expected that he would at

friends that a young lady, pretty and an heiress, ’

‘ betrayed, filled him with a  5135;”: 

Or mix the'pityiug tears with those that weep." .

His family

shed three tears upon his breast when he '
arrived, and could hardly wait to see the pm»
That the long.
absence or his only boy had been something of .

least be intelligent, for she hadsnnderstood‘ 
that, notwithstanding his wildness, he steadied  .
_Withr.painful assidtfitywhenhodid-Btfldy.  f :3: ’~ '
he was‘r'worsa'a hundred timesworse as a} 
1mm, than‘Blanche was as a woman; a‘odhis , \ 

beauty did not keep his cousin 3  1?;
him. She kept out of his Wayne-much as  r 7
sible. If she could get into a quietneok  “
library, With some beloved book, she 
tent. . 0r. into her own room, 
tOO often fOIIOWed her, tormenting herjniawflg. ,_
tineg with ceaseless talk upon subjects 

esting‘ to herself alone. Now that Blackened u 
a handsome brother to go everywhere with g "
and whose time she would monopolize, she on '1
less persevering in her attentions to her 
Elizabeth began to reform the schemes which: “
had been nearly driven out of her mind. 
aunt laughed at her when she found that fire  . .
had been visiting the tagged schools, and;  "f?
heldtwo or three consultations  » h   Q
and'that, on Thanksgiving day, she had  ’
twenty-five dollars for the children’s 
The classin which“ she felt the most 
was that of the respectable 
depended upon slopshops or chance 
Her heart burned with the eteryI ofthjeir ' A
wrongs. She longed to consult 
gent and philanthropic person as to  y 
'means- for permanently bettering  
dition. As she could find none such an  ‘
her, she finally wrote to her pastor, Mr. j ,_ 
tings. The noble impulses which that 

  
 
   
  
  
  
 
 
   
   
   
  
  
  
   
     
 
 
  
    
  
   
 
   
   
 
  

 

v answered it as best he comm-and one
led to another, until there was quite a "  '9 
correspondence, and» all upon the subject ’ ,_
first began it.  advice was 
prized by Elizabeth, and served often {trims »
place of a friend nearer at hand. It 
aged her, too; often giving. her: SWfifitg 
resist the fascinations of example and  
Still, she‘was not up to 
not reach it; she was so farbelow it  '_
times she felt altogether discouraged 
 “ I _ " , , ‘ rs»;
“ What a consummate dandy Philip; is?  ,
thought, indignantly, one days: she  
rying along the street alone. What   ’
' up the‘thought at this time more 
had, been the ‘supercilious way [in 
bowed to her as she had passed him-amen};
time before; So much conceit was intolerhhle’i‘~ /
She turned-down a byctreet, for ‘she   J:
to visit a sick woman whom a 
ciety had recommended to her especial  f ' ‘
She found the number, knocked “softly; -
went in, when whom would she set but  , f
tolerable cousin Philip, holding the   7 _
the dying woman,” he eat beside  xx
wiped the death-sweat from her brow. r30 
one, perceived her, and she stood still, : 7 .7 -'

 

. v1:  n I ' 4

./1

. "’ ' _ w. . u‘ \ ‘ ‘.. ‘ I» , ’ ~. : A ’ \

‘ «rnsrcoufi'rnrccusmu  7 "  “ '

'/

 

 

‘  it Ilpledge you my honor,”  her cousin,”

in a grave, sweet voice, “that ! your . children.
' ‘ I will see that they?

shall beprovided for. I
have all they need at present, and that soon

they shall be provided with good homes

ginth‘o country. Do not be so distressed for
.  He who will not let even a sparrow
' fall the ground unnoticed will surely care
 them.” ‘ x ‘
' “ It was He who sent you to me, I am sure,”
whispered the woman. " “ You will be blessed
Tyour youth will be joy to you, and your old
age honored. But for you—”
‘ g?“ Do, not try to speak,” be interrupted her,
gently. “, I have done but little, yet I will do
more. Compose yourself, and be at peace,’for
Ideas.” . »
3 “ I em—at—peace,” gasped his companion.

 
   
    
 
  
 
   
   
   
  
  
    
     
  
  
   

 nonzero; Two, or three children clambered
‘  ahontthe bed, sobbing and screaming. '

i  composed the dead woman’s
,  upon her breast, she saw him drop a

, 1.1:“ Philip, is this you?” she asked,
' .‘ '   his side. He looked around quiche

gyfll’elll? supposing it is? I What business
I haveif'yomwandering around. in these, bad

. ingl. . . 7 v , ‘ ,
 “Where no tears upon that score; at least,
".‘rmotfinoughto keep me at home. But, Philip?”
 andshe lodked up into his, face with a question~
logical; as much as to ask where all its conceit
‘ and indiflerencehad gone to. _,
» 5 ‘ ' Philip had admired his cousin much" more
r thanks  allowed her to see; when he had
, complimented her, it had usually been in a

 hadde ’as if he had only done ittopro-
vokeher. Now, he said: > ‘ ‘

“You are a pearl among women, Lizzie.

daily occurrence with on.” . ,
 , ': “No,” replied she, unwilling to cast a sha-
. , dow of blame‘upon any one; “ she is so happy,
i mediated and busy, she has no time. But
 she, gives to‘many a good cause. She handed
 _ Tine five dollars as I was coming out, for chart“
[vi j‘table purposes; yet I know she wanted to get

_ :herselta newton.” ‘
' L ‘ “Wonderful selndeniali

 fansfi, roplied ,Philip, in his usual mocking
ma,
2 vehegfjmi I do love to see». beautiful wo—

   

remarkable for I a superb toilet:

your little case shall fare better than they have.

‘.  Some day you will be‘foundlmisa,

‘Jloes Blanche never accompany you on these:
excursionsktor I-am- aware they are almost of

._ . Iamafraiditwill.
make‘yhar ills—respecially as she has so ‘few‘

3"  she was, 'for the death-pallbt acame’
oval; her lace, and in a moment she; breathed

,  not pleasing to her fastidious taste—4t"

“Blanche dresseeseraphically, doesn’t ‘

 

neat enough, but you ’do not do yourself just-
ice. Aregousopoori”  " ' _ .

“It is a strange subject to introduce here ,' ”
and Elizabethturned away to console theory.
ing children. .'  x ,' 9 V

“I do not wish you to think that I have
been doing any thing good,” continued Philip.
“I abominate goodness. I happened to be
called as, this woman’s physician. Can I do
any thing for you, cousin Lizzie?”

“It you will find some neighbor who is

yvilling to take charge here for the night,» I will '

see that she is well paid. In the mean time, ,
I will give these poor children some supper.” ,
While he’was gone for a watcher, she sooth-
ed the little ones with many gentle words
and promises, and set forth before their long-
ing eyes a comfortable repeat, which ~ she
took from a small basket she had brought with
her. ’ V ‘ ‘ c
When they had completed arrangements
to insure decency and attention to the dead

and comfort to the living thelcousins walk- ‘

ed home together. Philip was as gay as
ever, but Elizabeth was certain she had made

a discovery of a portion of his nature which be, 'r

kept hidden irom the eyes of his friends. He
was more of an enigma to her than before; con-

sequently more, interesting. It you pique a -
woman’s. curiosity, you have a certain ‘ hold *

upon her interest; herimagination is greater

than a man’s, investing all untangible things
' with more importance than they deserve. Fools

and villains may put on a sad, mysterious air,
and adopt the “grand, gloomy, and peculiar,”

oi tolerany sensible women.
“ If he was not such a top,” murmured‘Lizzie

and be successful in winning the consideration;

to her pillow that night, as it nestled close to I
her g10wing cheek, “ he would be quite~endur~ , .

able.” ‘

' The next morning became and sat down by"

her, while Blanche was» flirting with a morning

caller, and they had a long, and, to'her, inten- ,

eating conversation, upon poetry, esthetics, etc.
Just as her face was all lighted up with'lovely
animation, he quenched the light suddenly, by
observing, carelessly:

“ Voila! you know too much! Girls should I

not have opinions. There‘s Blanche—«she is

my ideal of a. woman—don’t know an equation . :'

from the equator. Look at her! Donit you.
think I ought to be proud of such a sister! I
did not see her equal in all France.” ' 4
Elizabeth was really lost by the beginning. 0
this speech. .Her cousin had charmedand aur-
prised her by his stores of knowledge,- and had

led her on into unwonted oommunicatlveness: I, »

had, purposely awakened her spiritual nature

 by many an eloquent touch, until it had ex-

:Gmau beautifully dressed. By the Way, cousin, 1

 

pended, pure as a lily in the sunlight-fond now,

_h0w quickly the {met nipped it-

 

 

 is} {Yi-

 

 

 

 

   

:x,

 
    
 
  
 
   
  
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
  
    
  
 
   
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
     
    
  
  
 
 
 

 

, ‘f'Ohl‘it‘is;,very,t§&el ammo should have .th’is-‘Mrrnvompeou 151.. m upmsiygmf ‘
' no soul, no perception, no will, but when: mouse- ((1 he had ten-times the tomes "  A
graciously vouchsaie‘d her by eome'lord of her which he has“; (mum   mm than;
being,” she replied with bitterness; and rising, coldly polite to him. How did he get his
‘ she went tothe piano (the visitor having de- wealthHSR himthat. I should think mu”,
v parted) and played fast and hard all the noisy, would be afraid to show him his coins, for fear '
meaningleeabravado music she could think of. he would slyly pilfer them." /' “ "-‘j‘  ~, ;~ '- ' 
'  . “I‘liketo strike the fire from such a jewel as “ Why, Elizabethl” laughed Blanch; ,_ f  , - ;1 p. 5.;
that,” whistled Philip, under his breath; and q “ Itis strange how the glitter of   v ',
flinging himself into an easy—chair, he listened ', eyes, even those as bright and pure as my w} H 
with haliehut eyes. ' - cousin‘s, Don’t; go near him, 31mm;  :. 
‘When she had wearied herself‘she turned to ' allow him to touch your hand or your shawl, v ~ ~
leave the room, and them was Philip hailing or even to look upon you! That is the   5
T on the corner of the instrument. for pure women to treat such menl,   " ‘
“- You remind me of Tennyson’s ‘Prin- would have less villainy in high-places”:   5*;
 (3688,” said he, “and I long to be the ,Prince “You are the queerest girl! ~Every,
who whispered: . almost—-treats Mr. Thompson with “ _ 
u ‘ Ifthoube what I/thinkth some sweet dream. He is a great favorite with the young   ’
Ido mnmammumfiaysew - ~‘ ; a Who would sell every thing but  ~
“My temper ianot a‘harp ot’a tho nd side appearance of propriety, for much ,
 I strings} for” you to ‘smiie‘on its—all its <§nds means of gratifying their ambition :j- '
i-: with nightwshe answered, having so uedv in display»th extravagant in dreesg’ffa- i; I
A her little burst of injured feeling, “so keep ' “ How disagreeable you Veanmakei   
 your flatterles for some more eager ear. I am for such a nice girl. Well, I must '1.
 going togmyroom towrite letters." ' {apologies I suppose, to youriam;  
i Shewent to her room and wrote toher aunt , don’t look grieved. I hate him/  ', " 7 
5w“ Faithful and to 35¢. Hastings. Her mood was  wouldn’t have him if he wasthohst 
" ’ such as to tinge her letter with just that shade ! the faceot the earth! But I_ must be 0ng
 of melancholy which made the receiver wonder j him.” \ r , » 1 i,
at the cause, and linger overthe words with: She darted 03 like a lark, carding, while
dangerous interest. , Elizabeth went to Mrs. Vanderlyn’s room, 
f‘ Here you are up here staining your fingers ; really was ill that morning with the 
with ink, when Mr. Thompson has been wait- and' begged to be permittedme 
ing fifteen minutes far you to make your ap- for her. * Her voice was so soft, and her 
pearanoe. I left him with Dr. Philip looking ‘ so gentle, that the lady was glad to underway 
~ at some color which he brought from Europe, ,her maid and accept her services instead. ; * = '
. while I’ went to look toryyou!” exclaimed; Mrs. Vauderiyn sat in an invalid?! 
Blanche, running into their chamber, just as; chair, well tipped back on itarockers, ' "
Lizzie had finished her second epistlo. * hankerchief tied about her brows. Her 

 

 

  
   
    
    
    
  
  
  
     
   

‘f'l guess you will be able to entertain *- removed the bandage, took down. all 
Thompson without, my assistance, my dear, hair, brushed it out, and left it floating  4
and I do not feel one bit like trying to interest”: her shoulders, while, with a soothing 
. myself in, his disagreeabilitiee.” . E she passed her'hands ever the aching head, a j
_ “ What a girl you are! ’ Here’s a widower, f econ magnetized the nervous 99in 
without children, not over fifty years old, and tirer away. . I:  . ‘ 
,' Worth eight hundred thousand dollars; dresses ; “I believe you are a magician-you
well, is used to‘good eociety,and madly inlove ,nearly cured me,” said her aunt, ‘gratemll‘yl. 7 ft!
with you, yet you treat him as coolly as it he i “Then you have no need otmy 
‘ Was some penniless poet ol‘eweet eighteen. I ‘ said Philip, who had at” that moinent 
.' do not believe you care a gold dollar for all  to the room. “ I came to ofier them, 
 the conquests you have made since yon camel withdraw. Let me warn you,r though,  ,1 M ._
to New York.” " r ? lady-mother, against employing mph-Meg?
1V “‘ I  depot; I have yet tomcat the a dangeroueexperiment.” I I  A:    
mm who comes within the faintest ahadOw of; “You have always something foam to t' ‘v-
' the ideal man, upon whose brow I have not the ' any,” replied his mother, looking at   I 
"main: mitt. ‘01:, Blanche, ho! own you some boy with a smile, and thinking how much  "
1. Waste your, time, and wit, and beauty upon I he resembled herself. .  p I  .- 
I such a sates you have about you!” 3 He placed a bouquet of exquisite  in ~
7 “ The“! W *W'J ,, i a little Bohemian vase upon her dressing-table, ._ I“
 " I dentintudto preach; but I, must obs }  “ i will not bring them near one h 
3.5.51?! that cg all the beetles, buttetfllee and , the oflending headache to return b 
, ~glitter ephemerawho flutter about this mansion, i fume, but you can feast, your eye. 
I I ' ' l i  §

 

:“  ’ I

 rim some com.  '

   

 

 ei 'my beautiful'motber and think, of the' faults doing, your own“ beauty juStice, and. carrying
 . 7 of thetglveri”! ‘ ' ' *  out the-Pretty conceit otthe twiudressewi - .

  
 
  
    
  
  
   
  

. ink-me, I am sure, Philip. ,‘They are full as
pretty as Baron Steimbrack brought me
 la’st‘evening forxt‘he opera. If you will leave
 me how, children, I think I can sleep a little,
"i r l sindnwake entirelyrrecovered.” '
 lgfihe gave them her plump, white hand,
V f sparkling with diamonds. Philip kissed it,
’ ; while be pressed his own to his heart with an
t ; impressive air. »_ '
 .5 “Is that as gracefme
' doitl”  . ' r l .
, > 1 “Go away, you foolish boy. Take bin:
" x- .eWuy, fizzle, my love.” .
’:. ‘ The cousins went down and found Blanche
L > " locking for her brother.
' " Fix, “Oh,’Lizzie, Philip, come and see! I won-
 “:der wlw did it? It could not be papa, for I had
 . never said a word to him about wanting it.
I V And-heir: no judge of these things. And this
 7 was “looted by a person of the most perfect
' " taste!” “ = «.3 ..
 .7  “Ah!” groaned her brother.
I  She had unfolded a. packet which had just
' . arrived, addressed to herself, and displayed a
;  of the most delicate bloom—color, faint
’ ,sindiair as the inner fold of an apple-blos-
, It, was the very thing she had been
Zfiddling fer, in time to make up for New Year’s

done as the baron can

‘  it; am much obligedto you for reniembera r

 

‘ fi“lt’s‘a very handsome present,” continued
 reassigned. girl. “ I saw it yesterday, when-
  and I were passing the shop, Philip, and I §
  wondered then how I could contrive to coax it i
  enter papm‘for. my own allowanca was, spent !
>  long ago. lt'was markedseventy-five dollars.
 - And, oh’, Lizzie, there was a. blue one of the
3:  some patternles this, that you must buy. It,
“ will, just suit your style, and beso lovely 1”
 j_.“,:You know that I can net afford to pur--
eXpensiye a. silk—especially after all
themes}? things I have been getting.” e ,
31"“‘Qh, but you must get this, darling, to
:-  mine! . I saw a hundred-dollar. check in
y’ r purseyesterdsy, and yet you pretend that
f Willisan not afiord it.” v
‘, “3‘1 admired that blue silk verymuch, nay-r
'~ jMfiWQ,” added-Philip. “It is a tint that
 'gnotgmmladles can wear to advantage. I
' _ «should to see you in it. I venture teams-m
thst the whole circle of this extensive city will
 not ,dnrnish a more distinguished pair of
' , Mutual MlWh so different in her style,
 and-so perfect in the type. Really, I shall
 _' have total] upon you'mysell', ladies, and pay
1 f "the mend ct admiration. And be sure, cousin
’ r  that you Wear the blue dress. I want
‘ {59  you in. it. I have a fancy that you will
 filmy ideal of ablonda . Do not let any New
, 39% nations 0! wonomy prevent you 

     
    
   
 
  
   
 
    
   
    
    
   
 

 

     

- out, at the everlasting stitching, to keep breed,

. Used to sympathy. *

Philip could look. so persuasive, when he
wished, that it was almost immihle kto, deny
a request of his; still, his cousin‘shook her head,
with a downcast look, and said: - ' ‘ » r ,

“'1 cannot promise you, flattering” you j
are.” ' ‘ ’ , r “ .4 " ’
Lizzie'wes not invulnerable to emotions f I
female vanity; the desire to look well in‘ I’hilip’s ' "
eyes was stronger than she would acknowledge. a r

' In the secrecy of her own, heart she pondered 3"

the matter. The phrase, “New xEnglaan

. economy,” grated upon her ear harshly as, 

coming from him. The native strengths! her

character came to her, and enabled her to duet

it out of her mind. It is true that she had, a'.’

hundred dollars in her purse, and should have

more before very long. But she had, formed a , -
plan for spending it differently. There was a.

woman employed by Mrs. Vanderlynto do her , 
sewing, whenever she had any that could be 1
sent from the house. She was a. widow, with 
three young children to care for, and, conse- “ ;:
quently could not go out to sew. Lizzie had 5?
seen her seVeral times, and had become, more 1
than usually interested in ,her. She had been '
reared in very diflerent circumstances; :in- her
youth had been the: pet‘of a_happy home, been
tenderlyv‘cared for and Well eduicated.‘ But,
like so many loving and trusting young, girls,
she had married a man not worthy of her-wens v
who abused her confidence, and who finally, s
died of afever, brought on by excesses, leaving 
her with little means and this young family.
She had struggled on, as women must struggle - r
when left dependent; had tried all the narrow ;
and crowded avenues-to a living left, Open _I_or 
Women to choose from: had kept boarders, and f
lost what little she had by it; had taught a

select school, taking her own little ones to and ,
from it with her, and waiting upon them, doing 7».
all her work out of school hours; had met with
more disappointments, insults, ,meanness’ and 7%
want, than need here be told, and Wes, now], "
wearing out her life, as women  them

 

   
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
   
 
   
    
  

without butter generally, in the mouthsot her
children. ' _- ’ -. ' L '
r, Elizabeth, as was natural to her,  iii-
.tercsted herself in this personage, e Judy and 37'
Christian, a. coldly-treated sewing—woman;
She had taken work to her humble door, and,
while leaving her orders, had fallen into
pleasant conversation, which, at times'Tgrew‘
confidential on the part of the widow, so little
“ Why do you not go to the country,!’ Ishef
asked her one day, “and securesteadypatron‘
age in some village?" The means of living-
wduld be cheaper, and the prices much-rhetter.

 

 

‘3»

Joe;

.  ,  *"‘T:.‘“'ftc,j“ ',  '

        

i, ,

 

15 1853311135536 350?” many‘to stay in the
citY- ‘ . , r ~ .
‘ «‘But it is hard to get out of it,” was the
reply. “,1 have never been able, to layup
enough to take us safely out-and settle us in a
new place. Besideazit is hard for a stranger
,to find employment, even in a country village.
~. Oh, ill had a sewing~machinel I could do my
work with so much more dispatch that I need
not wear out my life in this manner. ,But, in
, this, as in everything else, men‘home in'with.
their capital, and turn the blessings into a
curse. Men buy up the right to make sewing-
machines, men purchase at a price far beyond
" the reach of the toiling needle-women, and put
, themainto their tailoroshops, and skirt-manu-
" factories, and shirt stores, and cloak depots,
taking the crumbs out of" the mouths of
widowslchildren, and adding it to their own

, overflowing stores.” ' -- ' - '
' “ It is all too true,” sighed Elizabeth.
- That evening, the case of this enosuflerer
, weighing upon her mind, she had tormeda
plan email sent her to bed with a smile upon
her face, and gave her such sweet sleep as the
-, good alone enjoy, By a little, verylittle sol!-
" 'deniah‘she could save this mother to her help--
less flock, and bestow a benefit which would be
life—long. She resolved to take the hundred-
dollar‘ check and purchase a seWiug-machine
for hei- seamstress, and send it to her as a New
I Year’s present. This she would do now, and,
sf in the spring,.it_ the widow wished, she would
T furnish her with means and recommendations
‘ to set up in some rural place, where her chil~

: dren could feel thengeensward under their

 feet, and grow’up upon healthy air. »
 ' The‘thought made her unusually happy all
:7," the morning. She‘hed fully decided upon
the deed when the robe came home for
Blanche, and ., the temptation was set before
her. it was not the dress she wanted so, much
as to please ,l’hilip, and to look well dressed in
his eyes.  could not get the robe and the
Sewing-machine both at that time. She re-
 ‘membered’r'that she already had'spent much
more upon herself, and less upon . others, than
the had designed, Yet, she might get the
machine and make the widow happy at some
future time, say a couple of months, when
money was plenty again—the dress would be
30 becoming, and please Blanche so! But,
‘What it the health of the overtasked seamstress
JhouId ~ve way entirely, While she was taking
“little lishpleasure in a blue silk robe that
3119 did not need? ' v
.7 The young girl went to her pillow less hap-
PY than on the previous evening, but she arose
like next morningkto go out after breakfast and

 
 
  
   
  
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
  

‘Aunt

names were Blanche, and Elizabethw in: a

necessities.” a

 

Meet a, sewing-machine, for Which she paid,
with, orders to have it sent to its destination
3113011 theflx‘st day of the new year. Then she;

  
 

Went “omega? endlgleesome, with-rue  
thought of the coveted anemone one, ; 
not even uncle‘Vanderlyn,‘toiwhamshe  
times confided her.” benevolent  The;
would only call her silly—shalt laugh and,,w a r: I 
scowl at her; and itwas rewardl'enou‘ghato 
have the consciousness that she had  ’ V of I,
temptation very powerful; to a; pretty)??th fie f
When New Year’s day, with ,all lower '
and excitement,'was over, the account.go£ it ' ..:
which she wrote for the amusement of her ; y
aunt Faithful was not tinged with one-shadow 
envy or discontent because she had received 
calls in a less elegant dress than Blanche. 1g   '
“Blanche was beautiful,” she wrote,  - ,
enough conscious 0111; to ut her in the mast ,, “ ' *
liants hits, She was evi ently very much  ‘,  r
nderlyn scarcely'lese so. * Her   ' .
rich—~ve vet and lace or the costliest kindreliejf ‘ '
by diamonda, r. -    
“We were overwhelmed with calls, from  .7 -
fill mciit ht. Thisbeigg  first}:e 11% Yefisg l 
e .H was amuse a e n , a *’ a;
g .  ‘7

  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
     
 
  
 
 
  
    
   
   
    
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
 

gusted at the conclusion. 0! course we v,
upon the table, and of course everybody else , I ‘. z. 
I am sure that uncle Vanderlyn, u ‘ 11 any 
casion, would have had the servan. , putsomc o1; . :~ -
visitors out of doors, had they appeared in his mi- *
lorsrln so maudlin a state. . fault-finding? A' 3’:
ggnbggrald I am growing less chafitable theolought‘

 

 

CHAPTER IV.
“Airy fairy Lillien. ‘
_ E‘llttin’g, fairy Lfllien.” ’ p 
These . tt ba' withhandinm "5   _ 
Wen. waxzieriluegs’up and down; __ ) .’ ‘  _ ;
But never more they saw the man ‘ ‘
Approaching from the town. ‘ I r 
Thus wandered these two pretty bebop ' 
Till death did end their grief, -" -
, In Aosue bgggsther’sd arms lghgy died, ‘
wan re e . . ' , .
- r “gm Children 
Two fairies sat in a gorgeous bower."  ,

bower like Titania‘s, where the green 
glimmer in the moonlight, but in the  '
which térmlnated Mrs; Vanderlyn’s m I,  1
cent suit of parlors. Nor were these in. 
like those tantalizing creatures who shakejgthfir
scarfs at you't'rom the vanishing  _
hide their evanescent beauty in the 
some dew-bespangled flower;  
more precious household fairies who win!
names, of such substantial make, andbnrdened;
with such pressing wants that a large pursue}!  
of- money barely edifices for their «“ abs-elate_ : -

~ Shall we say that Elizabeth, the smaller, de- 
mures' fairy of the two, was last following‘in I v ‘ ‘
theioot’etepe of her extravagant. cousin! Iv '“‘  
It was twelve o’clockof. a clear, cold Fem-w,  ‘ -
ary day; but here you could hardly have 'told’
that summer was not still a lingerer. The. ,
atmosphere was of genial warmth, the songsclf  ' ‘ ‘

 

 

=7 , _ object. Philip says we ought to improve our
_ minds.” ‘ '

 Q. \rtiuierlsee him I‘will tell himl‘that his curls

‘7  Thettutifulhair, and I intend to mortify him.”
‘   but they did not hear it. The sunbeam

 I ' I ‘l‘flt seems to me as if we wasted a great deal

 

 

 

  . I seem to have got into a whirlpool of

  

 14 '
birds were tangled amid the lace draperies of
this boudoir, whose windows opened upon a

‘ conservatory so large and so blooming that a.
~ tropic garden seemed transplanted into it.
‘ Blanche was lounging in an easy-chair; and
, _ no rich-breathed rose" ever leaned amid, her
clustering leaves with a. more dreamy indolence,
than she amid the cushions oi damask around
. her. ' '
' Elizabeth, in a morning neglige of dark-blue
 silk, which set 03 the faint bloom of her cheeks,
‘ - and the dainty fairness of herthroat and hands,
"was down upon the carpet, with heaps of music
allin disorder about her, and a guitar lying
lioness her lap.

“(I have broken the string, and I have no
patience to mend it with anew one,” she said.
“I declare, Blanche, we have so much to do
that We have no time left for our own pleasure.

.I’ve been. trying these, two days to read that
' new book Philip gave me. But what‘ with
V breakfast at nine, and music to practice, and
[the dressmaker, and going out in the carriage
these brief afternoons, and dinner, and com-
pany in the evening, one has no time for the
. improvement oi the mind, or any other sensible

'  “Does hei'"replied Blanche, with an ‘accent
- of infinite scorn. “ I presume our minds are a,
match'for his—the conceited dandy. The next

 need improving; he prides himself upon his
_ Here there was». low chuckle in the next

event on tying its threads tolBlanche’s hair,
7;.while Elizabeth‘s hand wandered tenderly over
her guitar. ‘
 ,g‘f‘llmow it seems tome as it we were always
busny resumed the former. “Papa thinks we
- _ nothing to (10% That’s just the way with
 men l”

“ «issuers time. I spénd mine very diiferent—
.  what I had intended before I came

iguyetywnll spray andbubbles, dancing in the V
Cr  fascinating (to look at, but bearing
' me'wund and round, and ever-more back to
the starting~polnt, except that I sinl; a little
, deepest-with every circle. I wonder what Mr.
would say!”

THECOUNZ‘RY coUSINg '

- moment. ‘ x , ‘

 

' . “‘Il‘iel how serious you are. You talk like
an essny. Who is Mr. Hastings?”
‘3 He is my minister."

 ;,‘j.And you’ve been giving me a pieceot one ‘i
 fix! his sermons, I suppose. How stupid he ,
. -. 'Whel’l \ , V . i
A‘-.,__.aelstsrtromstupld," repliedEl th,t_

‘flwfiinszs- rr‘ _ ,,

V \ \

   

1??

 

, u Am is he '9, ~young,ma’n--or‘ has he, like s
most countryyministers, a. wife and nine small _ .
children?” I  I i  ‘ 
- “ No matter,” Was the’answer, in'so vexed a ‘
tone that Blanche laughed-4t was not often she
could tease her cousim’ . , ,
“NeVer mind, Lizzie,dear, for you need not ‘
tellme. Icon interthat he has neither ‘wii‘e 
nor children as yet.” (Here there was a slight - -,
rustle, as of an impatient movement in the 
next apartment.) “By the way, I wonder it H
our orty-seoond cousin. Bessie Bell, intends 1.
awe ng our invitation to spend a week” with _
us. She’se nicelittle thing. I can make her -
perfectly happy by giving her some oi." my
cast-oi! dresses.” ‘ ' V. ». g ‘1"
“That you’ve worn three times,” laughed" 
Elizabeth. ' V  / , .
‘ “ We’ll dress her up so that she will he quite
presentable. The truth is, I like her; better ;
than I do my envious, elegant friends; she‘s "
such a candid little goose.” , ’ " ‘ I 
“ Won’t she even tell a white lie!” queried 
Lizzie, who had found that white lies Were our 
rent in fashionable society. ' R 5::
“ No; andshe has no vanity.”  "
“Does Philip know her!” - . ‘ ‘ , ,
“I presume he does not remember her. I‘
wonder it he will like her! I should be in. :
doubt about it; he is so fastidious. If he loves 
any thing besides his own sweet sell, it is toseeg;
an elegantly—attired, sel£.possessed woman oi "'
the world)? ‘  L
“Nobody cares whether he likes her or not, ” ;
quoth Lizzie,‘breaking another string withag'
twang. ’ ' 1
The noise which she thus made concealed an I
ominous “Hem!” proceeding from’ the 6 her 
room. If Lizziehad told a, Q‘ whitelie” in 171
sentence, she was herself unaware of it at the";

 

 

  
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
    
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
 
  

 

“ I hate any one who considers himself per-ff
fact, and takes theliberty of lecturing other
people,” she continued, with some energy.

‘ “Ah, yes!” murmured Blanche, languidl
playing with the tassel of her girdle, “sti
Linda, I think Philip knows how to be 7817
agreeable. Es dances exquisitely. Grene'LiV,
ingston would die to please him.” 

“She’s in love with his fortune; 'HOwevel: ,
I do not blame you for liking himeohe’s yo“ 
brother.” , _ ., ' .' L 

“And yen: second oousin,”=added Hanoi!“
with a gay laugh. “ But here comes the 
which I ordered brought here. for I tool 
lent this morning. Come, let us have '8' f8“?
quiet luncheon, all by ourselves.” at    

“Not quite by yourselves.” said a v
which they know too well, andVthp :.,.:
item his concealment in the 
the adjoining polar. , “Exercise your,
tnlity, mesdemorlselles "~and heron his “ ,

   

rl' 

‘ rs  ‘  _.   1’ V   I 

u

 

alfectedly through bishop,“ he stoodwoit~
ing'to be offered a‘ seat at the board. ’
g ' “Listeners never, hear any thing good of
themselves,” said Lizzie, trying to suppress a
blush, which grew the“ rosier for her efl'orts.
' “Theo must‘he because mortals—especially
' women—are so given to saying hard things.
Who would think so much beauty was the
will for so much uncharitablegessl But, sister
Blanche, yon'must give me a cup of tea. I had
no breakfast this morning.

who fell from a buildingsand bruised himself
terribly.” ‘ ’

r ' “ What will you gain by going among such

, peoplei— not the fame. for which you are so
ambitious,” spoke his sister. ‘ ‘

“I shall gain the consciousneSS of having re

* lieved human misery, my dear,” responded the,

young physician, gravely. “Not that I wash'to

' be considered good,” he added, quickly. “ I

: ' r hate charity—J hate philanthropy; Every-

’ , body knows there is nothing good about me.”

' Elizabeth looked ,at him with softening eyes.
She was beginning to see further into the laby-
rinths of Philip’s character. ‘ ' -. /

‘ “Why should you put such a scornful accent

y upon the word good?” she asked. 7
> I “ Because the kind of people whom I detest
L arose tearftu good. The Scribes and Phari-
. seeswere, you remember. Your ‘Rev. Cream
Cheeses ’ are good, and so are your ssllow-
‘ checked deacons who delight in threatening
' little children with “everlasting tortures. Bro-

upon Widows and orphans, are, I know,‘gener-
‘ally very piouk—influentially so; There’s fa-
ther! he owns a church and a minister-he
has'msdoa fashionable thing of it-~and the
Shares are rising. It is a very good specula-
tion; Mother’s a member, too, and would not
miss 3' communist: tiny more than she would
._ the rich dinner she keepsfithe servants busy in
't ' meantime re, ring.

- h"‘01:, Philip,p hf; can you talk so? You
 havenot e
a, position.” . ,

 “Nor o'ydrop 0! too
more, i! it please your
9%" '  .

 

w

  
 
   
   
 
 
 

" L I ‘ L rsons enacting this tab-
.IloagomtfidthsgipPSed from beneath their
filiowny’eovsrlids, their ‘ftortyeeeond cousin,
T388313,” held deserted her chamber in the old
farm-hams, and gone out or doors with s mill;-
“"ihz’lififlmhér arm. '

 the dining room door she drew

 0 I! " ‘,

gin“ hér breastfwith a sigh of surprise,  13th
i- ill-mute“ delight, regarding the marvelous trans-
X‘flellretion of theisndscape. A silent spirit

 

iclustered locust trees, With the by- "
ithe stoop, all so brown, so'bleak,theprsviom v 9,,

_ I was called out at 2
eight o’clock to set the leg of a poor laborer, ?

 kers undistock-jobbers, and. those who prey.

~8tlllness, both of motion and sound,

 

particle _ of reverence in your corn- ;

 to the wooden “stoop.”

in my cup. A. little .j
highnea to be so gen- '

? to find he had slumbered solute, _ .

 

from the cloudtrenlmsfabove busy all, , - .
night-é—and now, what a' benutitul workweé  i 5-”
completed beforehorl reexamine: yard’withv ,, ~

its longwell-sweep, its picket .mse, ltd roWs * v ‘
of. current bushes ranged beneath,  high

   
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
  
    
 
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
  
     
   
  
 
   
  
  
 
 
  
   
   

evening, were Converted into a wry bower,  
more exquisite than mortal bends everehho. M ,
rated. ’ ‘ ~   
“Allhed sud . emu-change.“  
 Intosoniethllnégdriohandstronge.” C  
The, snow had come down demp  ’ " ,
clinging to every branch of the old   ‘
every spray of the bushes, and every,
rical picket, so long as a flake  .
point to hang by. The well-:curb-nnd  r: 
bushes looked like couches of 'swan’sfiowyj
spread .out for the repose or  ¢
beauty. The trees were burdened. so  e
that 5 there was a soft gloom undernecth, ; 
wrapping the scene in mystic quiet and " ” 
Bessie looked through the dreamy: 
while to her eyes the interlacedibodghsgot _
the motionless trees ,formed 33ch  [3
lofty and intricate, as the famous :in‘ 2
ancient cathedrals. No alabaster

g ,

  

so white as the pure material oi  "
chanted bower. Yet so bright W33; 
the daylight strengthened, that it 
as if it might beveivflaked ofl fromthegoliy I
stars, ,and,_ dropped down in 

absolute. ,1 Bessie felt all the 
time, pausing, herself so may and-eotiy  ‘

the spell were working upon her, .1315: "
might momently grow into 9. droning?
status. But she bloomed on like a  
in a garden a! lilies, and a redmy shot 
the quiver or the rising sun, piercing  ' ' ‘
ery gleam, and striking her wherein,
deluging her cheeks with crimson, ‘hegl‘ffi'.  
with light and her  with gold. ,The ._
chanticleer in the barnyard geven   .

swered here and there through the  
by his cheery brotherhood.‘ The cows  l 
indolently as it still oppressed  1
summer pastures. Bessie, gi'vlig her.  T  p
a swing, plunged into the untroddenw ' .‘  Y‘ ’  
snow lay all around her so soft and ‘ p‘   
she could not resist the temptation to regain 7. , .
unsoiled page. Breaking a stick humanities- ‘ 
hush, with this rude gravershe traced  3 r »
and flowers with considerable  upon its, 3 -'
yielding sexiness As the sun. rose  " ' ‘
splendor, I, glorifying the 'world at on glance; 
some lines from Tennyson’s    .
camointohermind, and shewrotethom’down  
upon a page as pure as her OWNM' he“?  ' 
$1: columns—~three on either side—h '1 ' V
Pure silver. undemth a rich ’

I  "'«THE-r-oofiurnv"consin; .

 
  
    
 

,\,

.» oft

 

 

i: V l ., " amne or’the massive-ore. from which V \ sensible, ~11;er way. 7T0 see“ her innocent face
 wn drooped’ in may a mating ‘0“ light up with interest was stimulus enough to

‘ - landed and draperied
W , inwrought flowers. a cloth of gold.
Thoreau. his deep 6 e, laughtenstirred
« With merriment of 1:1eg pride, '
, Selector ofallthst lace and time,
im—in his go den prime '
_ _ Thegood Haroun Alraschidl
,  Then she looked turtively into the enchanted
bower, as it the magic lines might have called
 , 7 up the kingto sit upon the well-sweep. No
 " king was there. She went on a little further,
tracing thoughtfully, it may be unconsciously,
l the, initials “J. A.” These she duplicated
my times as she passed along, and once she
wrote the namein full—“ Jesse Allen.” Just
thw her brother Will coming, whistling from
the house, with a blush she blotted out the tell-
. this record, and sped onward to the barnyard,
‘  her own pet cow awaited her milking.
. , resume not stop to snowball her brother,
-‘ y as hewould have liked, but hurried through
5 with  task and back to the house; for it
' ' was a great day with her, and she must needs
 At nine o’clock the train passed the
station'on its way to the city; she must make
..  ride two miles in order ,to reach it;
. g  hsdeccepted her cousin Blanche Van-
' ,derlyn’sinvitation to, spend a week in New

 

 

 

  
   
 
 
      
 
  
    
  
  
 

/

‘v York.

. . ‘.  was passing his cup for the third time,
' . men a. fuller burst of sunshine brightened the

l

 

 as a winter-berry peering out of a snow-

 girls gave her a. welcome aflection-

?'  to satisfy a more exacting nature

1} than hers, and presented Philip, who made

: 1' some pretty speeches about renewing old ac-
, , , I

 wrapped in clocks and mufllers, but as

. . a Morelnncheon was ordered for the new-
.  When, the gay'repast was finished,
’ '  Blanche proposed that Bessie, it not too much

j . fatigued, should accompany them upon their
Vf  Wag expedition, as they did not like to
r   hersosoon after her arrival. She was

' 1. metal; all fatigued, and. was‘as eager to go as
   girls would be when making, a.
,g ' ,  trip to the metropolis. . ‘ ' ‘
, r , , ‘  threw himself upon a sets, and tried

Y #505001: handsome which attempt, it must

. balconiessed, he succeeded, to Lizzie’s infinite

' distaste, who threw a glance, at, him tram be-
 oath. her drooping lashes, as she turned to
‘- , leavethe room, to make ready for the carriage.
i' . No  the two girls; vanished, than he

shock 03 his air of languor nnd vanity, sat up

like a man possessed of health and vigor, and.
, Wed to entertain Bessie? in a mariner
which ‘ her. Places he had visited,
people he had known in the old colmtry,
scenery..customs, pictures, he talked oil in a

 

 

~"hills):flair;and the three, looking up, beheld Bes-'

not wonder that you  it," remarked

. but lightly, and held mostly

.nmththdrdmuyraga

 

make him exert himself more to please her
than he had any other person since his return.
Elizabeth would hardly have recognized the con-
ceited young physician, who loved. to display
his “ foreign graces ” as if on purpose to call
forth her contempt, and. she heard him. enteré
taining their visitor. , '
The moment she returned he put ofl all the
eloquence which had held Bessie enchanted,
and begged to be allowed to accompany 6
ladies, as there still was a vacentssat' in he
carriage. V
“ But Blanche is going to the dressmaker’s’.
'How could you go there? You would get out 7
of patience waiting.” ‘ .
“ I do not purpose to wait, nor to ‘ have you
wait. We can leave her at Mrs. Flum'mery,’8,
and drive aboutthe city until it is time to call
for her.” . . ' ,
“ Of course you will have your own way,”

said Lizzie, and there was a triumphant smile 

upon his lip, as it he meant it.

When Blanche came down, flushed with the
magnificence of her beauty and apparelingfies
sie cast an uneasy look over her own modest
attire. Blanche noticed it, and smiled.» '

“ Do not fret yourself, mid cam ; that grace- ?
in] head of yours in its little black "velvet hat . y,
will look very well from} a carriage window.
Come, all, or we shall not get home for din- 1"
her. ' '

The horses pranced, their harness glittering " '2",
in the sun, and the tasteful equipage, ’with its 7}
gay, handsome, and hempy party, swept down» 1‘
the avenue. ' ‘ 

“ Oh dear! Do look! Will you 'not‘ stop
the carriage a moment?” cried Bessie, as they
passed a church. . , ‘

“ That is one of our finest churches; Ido

 

 

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
  
    
 
  

Blanche. , . _ _, ,,
“ I was not thinking “the church at all.
Those little children, there, upon the steps.
Cousin Philip, will you not tell the coachman
to step until we can give them some money?” ,
The snow, which had fallen so heavily fitty"
miles back inthe country, had touchedthe city
disappeared tram ’
the streets. It lurked here and there“ in 
ners, soiled by coalvdust, and looking but 8:
wretched relationship to that purity which had
charmed the country girl at sunrise. ,Some'ot .
its draggled wreaths were broken about the
church steps; and, shrinking away from these;
into a spot which the sunlight touched with?
wintry warmth, was .a group. oi three ,littlfij',l
beggars, holding out their purple, hands, and"
vainly trying to shelter their pinched leather
The two oldest W9”?
girls or eight and ten, and beneath them nestled
a little brother. . -

  

 ‘ ‘ ~ > i reenlisemge I    a - ~ >

 

 

rheuu "g

“ Pshaw,”said Philip, “3m will see, such

sights at every corner. Those-are regular lit-

the villains, I’ll warrant”, ' j . l , -
, “‘ If they, are not,” said Blanche,_~ “. their

parents are, and will take. away whatever we

give them, and spend it for rum. It is really
an injury to society to encourage them and
their parents in such idleness.”
“ But these are too small to work, and they
look so hungry. Indeed, 1" can not bear to
pass them withont giving ~ them a little,"
pleaded Bessie. Blanche laughed.
“How unsophisticated you are, little one.
You remind me of Lizzie when she first came
 here. I have lectured her out of it pretty
well, as for as giving to street beggars is con-
cerned; though I suspect she makes a simpleton
of herself a great many times when I know
nothing of it. I have heard’ot some of her
shyi doings! That sewing-machine, you -,re-
member, Philip, that took the place of the
silk dress.” -' > i
“ And that consumptive school-teacher,

whose boatd sheis paging so that she can rest ‘f

 awhile from her labors,” added Philip. '

- Elizabeth blushed. She did not know‘that'

her charities were discovered. She was as
modest ‘as generous. , , ‘ ‘
. “That has nothing to do with these chil-
v dren,” she said. “ I really wish we had given
them something. They looked so dejected, so

 

and must bel—here,_all about us, little immor:
tel souls tainted (it their very birth, little sen-

‘ sitive’ bodice-pinched by want, before they can '
And all for no sin of their own.

r _ ~' standalone!
‘ [They had no power over their own birth, no
choice at the circumstances which surround
‘ them. Angels must'weep at the sight; yet we
‘ have become so hardened to it, in this Chris-

" philosopher says, ‘It, is a necessary evil of

churches and palaces of gorgeous beauty over,
“momma says, ‘these cellars, this under-

,  Beneath their foundations.” _ ‘ 
‘ , ,f‘» And to think that little children actually

3  {to bed hungry,” added Bessie, the teams
._ causing into her eyes. I '

  
 

 .I'shéll‘flno you for spoiling the pleasure of this
i gglm'mu'aftemoon. Here we are in Broadway.

«the display to-day is quite brilliant."-

.\ . ,“ Nothing aflects my dear sister’s happiness
‘1  o wrinfie in a V nevaniress,n spoke Philip, in
 '  hisprovoking tones. s-“But here we are.
' at ‘llladsme , - V’smthot’s he: lemme.

less brow when we fetal-EV»

'ness. ~* 4

r ladies chatted over theirrcofiee, the. , . .

[was not at all obliged for her mute
"once. I ‘ ‘ '-
«forlorn. Oh, to  that such childhood is, 

demdn at his elbow prompted

'of the initials graVen in the snow thfi

.tian ‘ city, that we do not realize the facts.

'Ench one says, ‘ It ‘is'no business of mine ;‘ the, to the capture of this little-rustic horn.

"sis was‘ as innocent
hum“: endow/~55;an we go on building,

L'  meta, that, heaves’ with volcanic vice and.

r ’mised. : ‘ .
‘f  9‘ How serious on all are I declare. Lizzie m L , \ fl,
‘ y ’ ’ ‘visiorn Elizabeth  distrmifihs" .
k ‘ afraid that Beesi'e would really become: too
~NOW Open both those innocent eyes, Bessie, for T
‘ v I won

ester and over, in the brief‘ti‘me  » V

 

Thain—«mo I hope the dresiwlll semen“:

that seems and a cloud ‘ upon in; 

. , V .

smashes indolent} eyes  licor’ ultimo. 

 ment, but 8116 concluded to smile; 1dr she was

'very fond of her brother, taking'lds cohi'pli.
merits and contempt usually with  
When shepping and sightseeing-We ‘  g;
they drove home in the early twmght,  
grown cold and clear, but not still;ithm,;m 
a sharp wind, not blustering but searching,  ; '
made the blood curdle at its   v   V " 
“Ah, how chilly it is,” shive’red 
as she stepped from the, carriage, drawing '
five hundred 4 dollar fur "capo  ‘
her. ‘ ‘ " " ‘  , ,
l g”,

“ How pleasant home ~“seems I 
Philip, as they gathered in the  ,
lors, and all assented- with unusual 

 

    
 
 
   

 

 
 
 
  
   
 

Ll‘hey‘ lingered long at thedinner-tahllal gills

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  

laughed over their Wine; Twice has?
Elizabeth gave Philip an earnest",3look,7
he could not misunderstand, as he filled _
filled his glass. ‘ r  :1
‘ “I wonder if she thinks Loan
01! myself?” thought he, with a .msnlsw f V

ness, and he took yet another, to  gig

.k-w

He was consequently in verygay'sfirlgfis
ter'dinner,‘andit seede as it  _j g _
Emoticons
himself as fascinating as he could to  
gle—minded, unsuspecting “guest. "  H
heart had not been preoccupied
she would probably have yielded: it 1   i ' '
to the systematic besie‘ger, who 
accomplishments—and they were; 

01? any  
from those natural _.  new, ’
which are given to women'to hightenvohsig
tr'actions, asa child; she  ‘
great deal of pains to please ‘    1
was the most elegant  
met. That he was  
list 01 “brokenshearted-ones’imejn’eusfimg ‘

  

/

. here was om,ant who   "

deeplj interested, and thatfl’hilip,.
her innocent affections,» would  4
them. *7 She thought him too ambitiomeojm 1
playing this game of conceit and  M

him,'a.nd had seen several  ,

 

  

 

      ~

 

    

s: nude 33 fascinated as a  Wheat, and es,
readytofldropfafi‘ hisieeh But: in their case
 > capricious as; their tormentor, and that; their
'  hollow‘heerte were filled more by.,hls position,
‘  money, his handsome leeks, than by any
' appreciation of the excellent qualities which
‘ he ,,pu:poaely kept in the background. She
 I '  only wondered how he could so ‘fritter
fiwé’ynbilities which might be put 'to better
 new: ‘
Wowshe was indignant for Bessie’s sake, and r
Caliban}! for her own. Why unhappy for her
*‘owni/ was more than she could answer;
 did-not ask'herself. , We are all
 firms to pulse away self-questioning when the
"_ f resultlounpleasant, That she was becoming
"  " more  more interested in, ,Ph-ilipmthat per-v,
. ..-..souflwh4§1n she daily saw and avowed was vain,
 tyrannical, and foppish, if nothing worse~vvas
 r ‘ true; but she had persuaded herself it was the
‘  ' . study? of; his peculiar character, which was
;  :ellvgeyseluding and tantalizing her, which ab-
" 3  so much of hen thoughts. 0: one thing
',‘ elie‘had'becoxne convinced, that he Was better

 

  
  
  

'rf

enviable mother and sister as much he
ambiguous allowed all his self-love to
 {upon-'llzhe surface, because his lady
friends were guilty’of the most apparentend

 

   
  
 
   
    
  
   
    
  
    
  
  
  
   

, _ .' st flattery.
gVim-finialshe could see that he had,” a secret
5er heropinions, no matter how closely
  teooncem the fact. i
like} evening she saw we heard his im-
meseiye'attentims and delicate compliments to
 nit}: alpain which was something more,
“than esymnachy with the girl. She had} not

 flirtatious with accomplished coquem,
Whfiinvitéd himst'o a. irial of skill; now that
 Wee}!on to blame, him, she did it on-
willin’éljy; endthere was a heavy pain. at her
 Which Ought to have warned her.

he, enSWered the silent rebuke in
  n, saucy arohing of his brows.
hammermane 'she ro'omed with Eliza-
 nndeeph,up such a commentary upon her
head‘s Wei-e laid upon their pillows, that
i' heroomilanlon ‘ hogan {so fear for her foolish
m littlehea‘rt, but, you relieved by the gipsy’s
 ,I'Wishneigh, assho‘hxrned her ro‘sy
  closer to the bed,.«he£oro dropping? of}: to
glee ‘ ‘

“fins, height)! I “would not give my Jesse
foriyflaiflphousandmen like himewno, indeed l”‘ j
  morning, whilethose who were up

 

co  the paper, as usual, to read

f ,

 

#-  no piiyg-she/knew-them ,asvnin and s

1'.  than he appeared. His supercilious’ness was put 4

Elizabeth , never flattered ‘

‘you give enough we all kno 

hth him wheartless; she had not lilamed ,

'Ped *0 “1913’s in robes, upon othebo'x oirxth’e
'Hmi‘ltsc‘e was grove “when she‘bade Philip '

“saw and reflected upon is; was thoughtful, all

 

‘ handsomevconoin’s perfections,_for’anhour alter '
earth; how‘ some were bornveortheginhefim ,

* likewise. for refreshment to;  . ne-
 he, break-fest, ‘inCIuding Philip and his 33on
jibe. on e: the my to her uncle, While read— ,

 

mg in the list otlocal items, - her. voice fancied 
and‘cemetoapanse.’ . ' '  . ‘

“ Oh dear! I shall never forgive myself,” she ,
exclaimed, looking quite .gale.’ , a v “

All inquired the cause on her emotion. “? She ,
readinreply: H _  z x i 

1“ 15mm. Inomm.—-’l‘hree young “ sisters
and brother probably, were ound in the may
of the church of the Ascension, early this moaning
frozen bodeath. A watchmammpesd ‘ about two
,o’clock, discovered them huddl to or in a. cor—

ner, as it to shelter themselves from the wind, built  -
was too late to recover them. The night was the ' 
coldest of the year." r i “ _ , , '

Elizabeth looked toward Beesie, when he '
had finished, whose lip was trembling, and who

finally burst into tears and left the table. _

“Girls, what does all this mean? Your

sensibilities must be unusually acubeflsaid Mr“. t,»

Venderlyn.’ y / , ‘
“It‘means, uncle, that'we'passedthese  "' *
little things yesterday, as they sat on the steps, V
and although ‘wesawthey were small uni-help-
less, cold and hungry, we passed by on" the, I»:
other side, without risking so i’nuch as a. dime _ *1
out of our overflowing store, fox-{ear we might; : I 
harm society by, our liberaliliyi r -We came
home and eat a luxurious dinner, laughed,
jested, went; to our‘wez-m. beds, while an the 
time those-a Oh, uncle, it impresses mess it _ , 1
theirdeebh would be laid toour charge!” H ‘ )
“ Nonsense, Lizzie! You're a good  and
 is 
note that you did not due. ' “lilo bestow same. ' 5
thing upon the children, seeing it; has turnefl, ‘
out; asit has; but, such things: happen,.andwill
happen; and nobody is to blame, unless it be
their improvident parenlgs.” ‘ ' , 1 ‘ 
Lizzie could, not satisfy hereon wigh. 
reasoning. / . t r u ' _
‘A Servant bro” glut Mr. Vande’rlyn his fur-
llned cloak and gloves, and another set, wrap

 

  

   
 
  
 
   
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
  
  

carriage, waning to drive his mashertoWnll _
street, Even the home were more Warmly
coveredythan those children had  5811c”

day, renewing her good‘resolntions, endearing ' x
to solve the problem of the unequal denim: ,
tion of blessings aniong’the inhabitants ot the?

of poverty and ill-health, and evil imiinatio
and some to riches which-they could not; one 1 
upon their pampered senses; how heeutiiiflésoule:
were in 11eg bodies; ugly souls in 
bodies; how boars could purchase elem ow
line their palaces.  starving poet». omens

ture, must he i kept away from the,  of
art and lovelinessto which the-boorcmldvhs‘ing
his gold..- ,And through all her no 
an undorbone~the,'wail ofyhungry swimming ,

 by e I

‘unoleend a

 

came   * 

 

 

'a‘fimwtywot hunter hind, mete chm

hood..

w

CHAPTER v;
A VALENTINE m A warren.
“ You shall be my Valentine.”

Witha passionate low in hercrimeon cart.
The rose satin her wens-Bum '11ng

I woman if, I shall have a Valentine this
morning!" quoth Bessie, as she sprung out of
bed, the morning before that fixed for her do-

“ Valentines are going out of fashion; I do
not expect any,” replied Blanche, from the
dresinga‘oom. '

“ I do not care for the fashion; I know I shall
have one,” continued Beesie, her fingers almost

too tremulous to tie her shoe-strings pat the '- easy-chair, amnrently reading: But 

thought. 1
She had never been away from "‘J. A." since}
they: were betrothed, long enough to have a

, ' letter, until now; colt it no wonder that her
, heart beat somewhat fast with expectation.

True enough, they had not yet gathered

’ around the table in the breakfast-parlor, when

the peetman called with a. whole package of
missives, and among them was one for Bessie
Bell, which sent the roses flying to her cheeks
at the more sight of the envelope. As for
reading it, the would not think of that before
so many profane eyes. Everybody, even her
_  j rallied her, insisting upon
their right to " r her Valentine; but she put
it in her pocket and sat down to breakfast-—
without much appetite, however—and it was

 

' observed that she took the first oppormnity for

slipping out of the room. This ought to have
distressed Philip, ceneidering the attention he
had paid her; but, as usual, he was willing to
give up one flirtation and commence another.

Blanche had several noteg‘a bouquet, and a

jemlebox containingan exquisite bracelet. I
Elizabeth had a. mlesive, accompanied by a
aplendid bouquet; she threw the miesive in the
grate, and gave the flowers (costly and fro-
grant as they were) to Towser to play with;
for the-Valentine contained an offer of mar~

 from her rich admirer, Mr. ThompeOn.

She told no one the contents 0!! the burnt

logistic, but Philip guessed whatthey were.

. ‘ “ You will never get Such another ‘ catch ’--
I believe that’s the term among innocent, un-
eetiieh young maidens; and you had?“ better
think twice before you discard eight hundred

thousand dollars.”

“Thank. on, Philip, for your advice; but I
hold my worth more than that sum, _when

, iteomee'to makingsherylnfiend shebrcke

the reel ore sewed note, email sheet where,
on were WM four lines of poetry, without
my signature: ‘

.2

Kimono: eo'undemed ' ' e, -

» enilnmwfolmfiie  
transnandfiginmufyhvltgmg .. 1"“ 

She looked ,up quickly gummy-teem
were bent upon her with on  which;

she had never before . ' _W®-.
ing, passionately appeal 2'; 
her, and, before she thought, before? “the re4 
flected, upon the impulse of the  ,V
a blush and smile .of divine  
placed the note in her bosom. ,  e   .,
“ You promiset—yourrteke the whole 
sibliity then?” he whispered Withls 
cheek, and turning away, he went out.  
room, no if to conceal thetooturbulemt .‘ 
his soul intohis eyes. The next theft ey
met it was not alone. She bed  
bondoir with a book in her hand,  _ “

   
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
   
 
  
  
  
  
 
   
    
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
   
    
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  

 

' not see a word of the pageheloro’lieri’ijm
.bojeom was in, a tumult, caches had 
never troubledit. Doubt if Hiin really“
what“ his" look and whisper led her: 
tear that he was trifling with her 
seen him "with. others; doubt if she 
fear that she ought not, if she did; doubtlhlfiinfl
goodness; fear of his'follie’s; but,
yes, the crested were that rose  " ,
that surging sea of feeling, and caught
light upon its crown, was hepe-4-that 
that he would prove himselt worthy; 
came another, rollin still:   
bliss-ea bliss sheleoul not help, not 
nor reason with—it would have its 
way. While she sat there Inute, infifll'y? ’.
filled with tumultumn jay, dashed on
uncertainty, a servant broughther  '
“ Mr. Hastings!” ‘ "   V ,
She hardly paused, after reading the 
1 wonder how he came to be Waiting tor,  fill 
g the parlor. Now she could see link old 
, Now she should hear from home! With sisters»
; dient with pleasure she hastened 1mm 
Philip was there, and had 
him. His quick glance wee upon  grunge;-
ZuEliubeth made her up, ' _  
Qteoted the tremble ot the 
bthough it was, the rush ,0: color 
lthe sudden throb of the breast.  
letrating glance, $00, “W11 W: 
1 which was radiant with pleeeuMW 
mainly—the em; 

 

.nflectlonete"intereet oe
decideiiitweremore. ~ I) I p
Y‘. “ It in enough to shake the 

' any man to be welcomed by such ecmnthfiig.
i that," muttered Philip, under his breath 
‘wne, indeed lookingth  
incegwns‘a, t which madeits, I; 
cute lineemente homily love y‘f I   3 .
{which eheghad fastened on her  :4
galore finemd transparent in it: term '  .

her trasheomplexion. ' a 2 I :

  

  

a
/

 

 

‘ “44.; ..-. 33c.» Magmkuph;

 

  
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
    
  
  
   
   
    
    
   
  
   
   
    
 
   
   
  
  
   

' éeither of» the men might have taken as a favor-
-"v-able augury of her interest in himself.’ Her
“ ~ cousin wondered whether the unexpected up.
1- peerance of the minister, or the remembrance
of his ownwords, caused it. In five minutes
 he had made up his mind that Mr. Hastings
, '\ loved Elizabeth; he knew it as well as the min.
” Eister himselté—muchbetter than the object of
  his paseio . '
-  “ How have you chanced to be in the city so
,nnegxpectedlyl You said nothing of coming,
‘ in your lastletter.”
' "“Hal they ‘correspon
“ .eotto coca. .
The young pastor told the truth, but not the
~ whole truth. He said that, taking a sudden
; cold upon» his lungs, which unfitted him, for
preaching,“ he had obtained some one to supply

d, , then," remarked

2?

 x‘

a the city, thinking a change of air would cure
f’  transient malady.

‘ 1 He did not: add in the presence of a third
:  that, unable any longer to endure the
V we  which was gnawing at his heart, or to
‘ “deny-himself; the happiness of seeing her face,
*s-andlhearing her voice again, he had seized
‘upoil the first opportunity which offered itself,
Ftoccme and listen tohis fate fromMissWard’s

» ‘ ’  found her apparently but {little changed.
,Iier   manners were somewhat more
‘studie‘déin nocordance with the society in which
 lived. She greeted him in the old manner,
Landsat  side while she asked questions
~ as fast The he could answer them, about her
auntfher oldhome, the village, the church,
 his health, this labors, hid studies.
Philip/excused himself, and for a couple. of
 they had an. undisturbed chat upon the
 ,lt‘wa’s; a. do ful time to Lizzie, whose
 rememgrance clung to old associa-
tionaf' Twice or thrice the heart of the minis-
 oyerflowed his lips, but he restrained
7 himself, for he, too, had been cognizant of. that
subtlemagnetiem which warned him that in
" bfllp Vanderlyn was a rival. He must wait]

 Watch . .
on”. you not discussed your old home
I spfilciently to permit us now to share in weld
Foaming your friend?” said Blanche, coming
j’ into the room with her brightest smile. , '
 She was in full dinner costume, superbly
" attired, and appeared fairly dazzling to the
’ country. pastor. Little Bessie followed her,
fiends-little before the [dinner hour cameme
' ,Vanderlyn; 7 ,_ The family all were affable, and
gratified- Liahie'exceedingly by the attention
they Mimi upon  Hastings. He could»
“not he. then 'gaterul; and, it may
\ be. thattor a time. his tter judgment was

1 ,_ \She introduced her friend to‘ Philip. There
.ywagfi’a relight'reserve in hermanner, which

 marriages tor a Sabbath, and had come down to '

' held in» abeyance; he admired all he saw, with-V ‘
' out questioning its intrinsic excellence. I ~
l They Would not allow him to 3 turn to his
hotel,,sending for his carpet-bag, and assign:'
, ing him a. room in the house. At dinner he
i took a single“ glass of wine with his hostess.
1 Wines and liquors were in profusion upon the ’
‘: board. Mr. Vanderlyndrank freely, as usual,
and‘h’is son followed his example, though in a 9
less' degree. . Even Blanche must sip avglass 6t
sherry, to give a brighter witchery to, her
eyes. - v I

I received this morning,” quoth/Philip, as they
still lingered at the table, and were teasing
Bessie about hers. He read: ‘  .. . V
“ Thy bark bein setwit'n silken sails, A w ,
And manne by aleasure‘sfljolly crew,
Flew swift before e epic gales
From youth’s Arcadian ands that blew.
But now, in manhood‘s deeper seas,
. It buffets with life‘s rougher breezes
0h, may it still as safely ride A
As when it skimmed youth’s sparkling tide; , *
And when itssilken sails are furled, , . ~
Beitinsome still happier worl ” “ I ' _
“Lizzie wrote that. I caught her ‘at it yes-f
terday," cried Bessie. ‘ . .
“Well,” replied Lizzie, with a. laugh, "‘ I
have not committed myselt very far, have 1?”.
“ No, it’s entirely . too non-committal,”
growled Philip. ,_ 4 -
Mr. Hastings looked around, to see it there
was any meaning in the jesting. ' v
“Philip is so vain, he would like to have the
whole feminine world at his feet,” said Blanche,
laying her fingers upon the guest’s harm, and
drawing him away to a picture upon the. wall.-
Eliaabeth knew Blanche well enough to dis-
cover when she was trying to be particularly
fascinating; and was; surprised that she should
give herself so much trouble to entertain Mr.
Hastings. But she, like her brother, liked to
flatter her insatiate. sellelove by ' 

in trying her powers upon aquiet, reflectlv
youngminister.  ‘
Mr. Hastings was not handsome; 
good-looking, though his face impressed youes I
a fine out. His form was short, with broad
shoulders, and his. head massive. His brow
was pure as a child‘s, yet expressive of solid r
intellect; his eyes were a very, dark blue,
lighted, deeply from within, by a spiritual
glow. ‘ He was a man most deserving‘of a love
like Elizabeth’s; and why she had not, thought
of it long ago is a mystery. A love like 
rightly appreciated and returned, must confer
upona woman the highest, happiness perille
in this imperfect world. But it seem that life
is full of perversities, and all its aims are.”

as he would have done had not too much rents
ence and sell-distrust prevented, before his v V

 

  

“ Speaking of Valentines,,here isl‘one‘which ‘ “V '

conquests; and there was something new 7.

 

 

 

 

 

cross-purposes. If Mr. Hastings had spoken, I

 

 
 

   

     

 

young. parishioner. went out into thetworld .n’a
beCame enamored of one of its brilliant chil-
dren, no doubt he would have been successful,

and we had not bad so much reason to douht;

. the wisdomuof‘Elimbeth’s choice. » '
_That,evening he could only worship‘his star
from afar. Visitors were in; music, whist-
playing, gay repartee filled up the hours, until
he sought his pillow to dream of what he should
say upon the marrow. Bla'hche and Bessie
were running up the stairs, and Lizzie about‘to
follow ‘thetn, when Philip caught her by the
hand and drew her back into the deserted par-
laor. He held her hand so tight that it pained
er. ,

“I want to know, this very night, Lizzie, ‘it
you love Mr. Hastings.” .

“Love him?” queried she—the thought had

. not come to her before. * r "

“Yes! You must decide, for his sake and
mine. One thing is certain—he loves you, fer-
vently, with his whole soul. Now answer, do
you rm his level” \ ' ,

“ Why do you question me thus,1"nilipl What
right have you to declare that he loves me when
he has never
hardly like it." ‘

' “I know it. But it is impossible to blind
the eyes of a rival—and I am his rival, Lizzie.
I tell you he loves you, and he will tell. you so

, himself the first opportunity. Having said as
a much as I did to you this morning, I shall
"' finish my declaration, that you may know
your true» position before he speaks: I love
you, Lizzie, I never knew. how deeply until
today. What do you say, darling?”
/ She said nothing. Brow and cheeks were
' crimson; she was afraid to lift her eyes-lest he
should see the happiness that was lighting
theun r
\ “You have won me fairly and completely
~ , by your goodness, your purity, your ignorance
j of fashionable faults and sins.
,7 half that loves you. I am filled with shame
; ..._ and regret fir my frivolities; I desire to. be
.31" come more worthy of you; I wish I had had
' ' as sacred influences surrounding my childhood
as blessed yours. I am sick of the life I lead.
11"3'0“ Will, you can make a good man of me.
Without you I shall be worse than ever.
Speak, Lizzie l” 
‘.‘ I believe I love you, Philip.”
‘5 Dear Elizabeth 1” '

/

1‘ I love you against my-ibest judgment. _'You

‘-  have ways that do not please me, and I do not

» have perfect confidence in your sincerity,

f did you try so hard» to win Bessie’s pure
‘heartr' 3‘

_ “ ‘-‘ Bless you, Lizzie,

. I engagement, with theprettiest, simplicity,

 

she told me all about her
the

"v N.
v. . ‘

 
 

bmthcd such a thing? He would I»

It is my better

“But I know not if I do right in saying it..

,. without which there is no happiness. Why,

 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
   
 
  
   
    
  
    
  
 
 
 
   
 
 
  

first evening} 1 theme 
——I was trying to see it I could provoke
into curing  501‘ 1339.?) I '3’ 3-!
ti,“ lndeed i”--her taco growing happier all 
me. I > 4 ‘. '  y' l ’, r
“True! unmanly as it ma have been: ‘L 
could not help it”, 4 .y. ' 2‘, i 'L",-.‘"';‘,  
«wen, thatseemed to me the m thing}?
ever saw in Em, because so unprincipted. hit;
you have ha 'ts I do. not like, and youdo'yourm
selfinjust‘iceallmhe time. I could notrhavdi
liked you at all had I not discoveredthe genera—«r 
osity, humanity, learning, and com 
which you take so much pleasurein'm‘
gulf.1 of, sight-dressing them up in the  
e s. - .    
“You shall cherish all m- ’ '
root out all my bad ones.”  . r '   i; .-
‘ Where is there awomanewho is not
happy by thinking that her loos has the.
to vein a man from evil? It has tempted 
t a young girl to incur dangerousrisbs. “mink
lbeth looked up at him w' h eyes .421ch as,
ove, ‘ , .   _ _~  ,.::,;,' ‘
" When you are mgr/wife, I shall  '
‘all you wish.”   _“ _ p  
He spoke the words very 
shook her drooping head, though 
glowed roseate through her curls. -   I   .
“I do not promise to marry you, i,
until IBseeIthat you are changedln
pacts.” t love ou~love youth—m  ‘  'g' _
from ‘ Inger-ms, which would have  "“
she gave him one bright glan \ , and  
the room. . ‘ i I 3 ,“  ‘
And so'thejourney, upon which 
most important» errand ota Mr. Hastings‘ssliie,
was an unsuccessful one. He did‘not'need'to-l
be told this'by, Elizabeth; he saw 
happy, triumphant face of. Philip,'thbytiratd’.‘
yet joyful manner of the young girl; thinker-'3
changed smiles, the stolen whispers. " 
aware, too, of a restraint in her manner
himselt, and attributed it to the 
He shortened his visit, remaining» only 
days, during which time he  the
actor of young Vanderlyn closely. 
capable of wishing to do him injustice  ,c.
he,was~ a successful rival; you the contrary-$- 1:"
pained him to discover . any thing unworthyot '
’his respect,'or ot‘ the esteem of the woman-hat
loved. The outward. beauty, which is 
more or less eflective in winning approhafion, » 
had but little power over him-he locket:
straight through at the: principle of the 
the motives which influenced his actions; .. Mi.
saw’an undercurrent of bravery and 
\ sentiment, a courage of character, that  ‘ .
upon the outside in the levity of toppishneis, ~> "
was, capable, whencalled into actidn, ofexer- 
1 cising resistance to evil, and dating the ' 

fortheworld in a good cause, Therequ 

 

 

 

 

 

   

/.

 

 

 

 

.1,

XTHEcomfmotsn-‘g  ~ 1 4-45“

 

' thing dishonest or pennrious about the young
physician; his/hearty” as hex-dyes an oak
tree, which. outwardly, is ‘fancifully bedecked
 with climbing roses and purple grapes. So
, Mr,“ Hastings took, courage to hope thatvall

" wouldbe well. ‘ -
His‘ own heart was as heavy, as if dead in

hiabosom. It was only with a mighty struggle

, that he gaveup'the hope which had filled his

 future with unspeakable splendor. It was a.

long time before Elizabeth could shake ed the

haunting memory of his parting glance, trou-
 bled .to its inmost depths, love struggling
against the will which kept it back.

A ,fl ‘9 Farewell, Elizabeth. : Remember that I
. . ray always for your welfare—your best good.
 tend to yourself, be gobd, be happy. No

“one deserves happiness more than you.

.blese'yon.” ‘

   
  
   
  
   
   
    
   
  
   
  
   

 

‘ . ' '  » ' m' consumarmn.
,, , l Breakfast eetts, dinner setts, tea setts of gold- 
I Sweet little snug}? flilrein's to hold d ’
.1'  ,eggs, ce .sauoehotan cold-
hemian crystal. wortlfiirices untold—

ereelain modern and porcelain old-

A teakettle also of pure, solid gold. ~

RES??? ‘tt maid  i great strings.
u so 3, e se r 11

Ear- bs and necklaces, brgofihes and rings,

' Jewels the brightest the orient h
1 Baskets and nkets and exguisite
‘Toenmme the souls of therich in."
l. -   of June was set for Elizabeth’s
-"weddl‘ng-day. Loving Philip as she did, she
' . eculdnot refuse to consent to an early marriage.
 Sheth . meant to keep him Waiting, as she at
'firsttthreatene‘d; but that very audacity of his,
, whichfhad given a manly air even tojhis van-
’ity,3ho;reall opposition before it, and her will
 siren way in this as in many other mat—
'v Theihousehold was charmed with the pros.
, ' poet of a marriage and itsattendant hustle and
7 r ‘gayety; Mrs. Vanderlyn liked the match,
which is saying a great deal for Elizabeth.
I Mothers who have sons, be they handsome or
,homely. gifted or stupid, are apt to think there
r is no living woman quite good enough for
i; then). _She liked Lizzie. her ways, her personal
¢ " appearance, her-good sense. Philip was sucha
;, v. ,fly—awayhimself, she thought a girl of as much
f dignity” Lizzie would keep him in bounds.
.- If she was, not very wealthy, she had enough
for pocketémoney; the Wards were an excel-
lent'lamily, related to her own. ,
’1 Mr. Venderlyn had no objections either; he
; hopedi’hilip’s bills would be smaller, and his
3 industry greater, .when he got a nice wife,
’ ,. no? known to do an extravagant thing. i,
‘- leachewaslinher element. .The prepara-
'- tions aflorded just thekind of. excitement she
v ;, liked; and utter the marriage was the promise

 

~.

influence to bear. -

 

or a long season of change and gayety. Her
mother, herself and Philip arranged all the do:
tails; the bride-elect was indiflerent to theme' ,.
except that she confessed to being annoyed at '
the prospect of so much display. ,’Philip, on
the contrary, was fond of fine effects, luxurious A
festivities and costly dress. He was resolved
that the beauty of his chosen One should be
hightened by every elegant surrounding. Elisa-
beth yielded to superior numbers. She did
not care how they arranged things, only that
they would give her some peace and quiet of

‘her life—which Blanche declared was impossi— ' "

ble.

All the thoughtfulness and depth of Eliw
beth’s character was aroused by the nearness "
of an event of such importance. She would
fein have got away from the silk and ribbon,
lace and frippery which pursued her every-.
where, and found leisure for careful meditation 7 ._
upon the new duties opening before her. She \
wanted, too, hours of silence, in which ;to real- I I ‘
ize the strange joy which pervaded her heart, . ‘
and to accustom herself to thoughts of the new
position she was to occupy. Earnestly she
asked of Heaven strength to hear her happiness
meekly, wisdom ,to use her influence rightly;
but it was only late at night, when the hurry 
of the day was ovar, and Blanche’s busy tongue - «,1
was silent in sleep, that she found the repose §
which she needed. ‘ . '  ll

Elizabeth had quite a sum of money which 
had accumulated out of her income, before she'
came to New York, and which she. could do»
vote to her trousseau without intreuching upon _
the principal. She had a valuable set of pearls ,7
which had belonged to her mother; and she did
not purpose purchasing‘any jewelry. Indeed,
there was little need. Philip was lavish'of; his, \
gifts. And every one “of their wealthy relatives
gave in proportion to. the splendor of the ;, ' '"
occasion. ._ If Elizabeth had been a poor bride,
marrying only “a rising young man,” the ,
presents would have been none too costly; but 7
now, there was a rivalry of ostentatious gifts ' *

Blanche was traced because Lizzie Would not «
consume half her property in preparing her
dresses; and finding she could not persuade her
into 'the purchase of an elaborate pattern of
Honiton finances and vail, she brought Philip’s

 

,,

. . ; “ n ‘
met»; an  (use; a.

    
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  

“ I would wish my Elisabeth to lock lovelier
upon that occasion than upon any other of her *
life; and not only lovely, but queenly. I ’ "
would have nothing but the most exquisite g“;
fabrics to adorn her beauty; You know I am  ’
very fastidious, my darling.” ' -  ‘ ‘

That “my Elizabeth” melted her resolve,
and the fifteen hundred dollars’ worth of lace '
for the bridal—robe was ordered. And having ;
begun by yielding. she found that the wish to _
please the man she loved. ‘or the tear or edema ’_

 

 

1'

ing. his-fastidious taste, ' influenced more and
more mquently. against the'principle oft-action

f she had marked out for herself. . ’ ,
t of fatigue

It was surprising what an amonn
Blanche could endure in a. cause like this which
new interested her. Her private apartments
were full of seamstressee, and the furniture was
draped and loaded down with every tint and-
tissue of the innumerable delicate and expensive
articles Which go to niake up artrousseau. As
she was to be bridemaid, she had about as
much to'do for herself as for Lizzie; who, poor
child, was dragged out upon shopping expedi-

  
    
   
  
 
  

\

 

time, and kept standing to have new dresses

fitted,» until she Was nearly ready to elope and 

be married by some country squire.
“ 11, they would only have allow

’ ,in quiet, how much happier 1 should feel about
‘ it. It seems as it all the sacredness of the time
was buried npin trifles. Ilong to he outbf
this atmosphere-wit oppressee me. I pine for
the repose of my aunt Faithful’s cottage home."
\ 80 Elizabeth often whispered to herself,
whileall’the time she was riveting the ‘ gilded
chains tighter, winding them around every
noble aspiration, and narrowing down her soul
to the compass of a financed silk or" a lace
berthe. ' ‘

Mrs. Vanderlyn interested herself in choosing
guests, arranging rooms and tables, the wedding
breakfast, and general effects. She prided her-
self upon her entertainments. , ,
_ The first of June arose, calm, sunny, prom—

.' r 'ising. With the first red ray of the sun, Eliz~
eheth glided ifrom her couch, and throwing a
white wrapper about her form, eat by the open
easement, to gather courage during the quiet
hour, for the important events of the day. The

‘ .small garden lay beneath her window, Sweet,

a,With early‘roses and glittering with dew. A“
wild longing possessed her heart to be out in

: p the open fields, gathering a simple garland of

Wild-flowers to adorn her brow for the mar-

.riage moment.

‘lnrthat peaceful hour,
morning, when God seemed visibly present

 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

the birth of another
in

“ intake upon herself, she blamed herself for the
rlvolous routine into which'she had allowed
W to be drawn. She saw that instead of,
OPPOSing her moral dignity and sense 0.! duty.
‘59 the light wis’hes’ot her friends, and especial-
13'701 him whose welfare was,_in a measure, in
ha? she ’hnd yielded one stand-point
, She had not been true either '
toher host sen-er the best self or her lover.
3115 'had promifid hex-eel! to excite his con-
mfiflmese, his nobler ambitions; and to
91d in check the rushing wheels of dissipation,

ed me. :to 80?
home to aunt Faithful, and be married there, f

l

l,

 the east in the miracle of creation, overwhelm- ,1
9d by a sense of the relatibnship she was about '

 
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
   
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

that, loaded as, the  might be .with‘flowerae
was, wearing out «theselid foundations eff
character.-  about, her-was vanity.  
was lost and perplexed in , a oi V  . ,
Life seemed to have no  than 
dressing and being flattered. ’ A; 
was a scene gotten. up for the display.,ot_ 

She yearned for aunt Faithful’sx  
vice, for the fervent blessing of, her 
for thertreedom or her old life.“ One breath‘étw‘
country air, blowing in at her casemengweuld”
have been sweeter at thatvmoment  
incense of praise which could have 

‘f Oh, my mother,” 'she cried atlast,  _
suddenébur‘st of tears, “wherelartthon‘i 
down from the heaven that ' holds thee so 
away from me, and press my head a 
to thy tender bosom. Thou wert so 
from these—why life was so much holler,“ 
much'more truly lovely. I feel unworthy
be thy child. Give me thy blessing, methane,

Her fair face, Wet with 
and her hands stretched forth 
When her prayerwas ended. ’sho  her
head, like a weary child, upon the 
and wept quietly, until her breast 
of its weight.  i, 7

“ What! in tears upon your 

exclaimed Blanche, entering the:
an hour later’.‘ “ Seel‘he’re is the   '
your v afiancedwthe wedding 
{just knocked at my door and left it [for
[He went to the florist’a himself to "impede; ,
up. Is it not magnificent?” "  y _ ’ .   v
Quickly Elizabeth sprung touher feet,
the warm color rushed to herbosom  ,7
It was her wedding-morn! Philipfwas 
thinking of it, had been out andxarrangedtheee
pure white symbols. " Every drop of 
her body thrilled at-the sighted them, 
ly she took them, kissed them,and.
avaseoffresh Water. A, . r 3 ’-_ f
“ You, do not say it you like thornyldml 
“Does it need wordsi’lanswered 

aglowiug smile. I r _ , , ,

.The hour arrived, and Philip ,aaw-  
shy, soft glance of  bride’s 
fluttering of her heart, no shame to 
At that moment he was indifferentto’theeflech
of her Honiton veil, to the splendor e:  
bridemaid, the imposing array attire-bridal 
party, or the critical glances of  fly; :, *  ‘ "«
hundred friends,” '; r "f    . ‘ ;

Hie meiherassuredrhim, afterward, that   . ; '
had never witnessed a‘ ceremony more “

 

l

 

 

y

Iful and complete in all its appointments, ‘  
I {Blanche had eyes. forthe discontent-smith 
llich her unmarried lady friendswere'fomed “ ‘

 to admire the profuse display of beautiful    ‘

 

   
 

n\‘

   
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
    

      

( 7' :3  , ‘
. ‘ . If,- __‘,y,.....,.‘..‘.’.  wane.  I I t  I W , K V
faentsand her. .Q'Wn "importance as bridem‘aid.’
:5Shey_,lov‘ed to provoke the envy of her asses
_.,-oiates.‘ '  ~ “I .3, ’

7 'f A breakfast was all that oouldbe expected,
even-at Mrs.;Vanderlyn’s, who moved about
  raahoetess, well pleased with herself, her son,
’ 4 her daughtBr-in—law.

/ particular friends, including Blanche and the
'rgroomstnan, shtuld accompany them upon the
 round of excursions which were expected to
' occupy most of the summer.

 Three hours after the Ceremony, the travel-
ing party were on their. way to the south.
. They Were'to‘spend a month in visiting some
 ‘ beautiful portions of Virginia, where they had
, triangle; return to the sea-side, from thence, in
. August, to the White Mountains, and from
 (Ethereng to Fltchville, making aunt Faithful a
1  shert visit—gthen back to towu. ‘
1;, < i'rhjspr’ogramme of change and excitement
'  delightful to Blanche. She was constantly
'; Seeing, new laces, making, or trying to make,
 .Vnew admirers, wearing new dresses. She lived

 sex-tact rarefied atmosphere of pleasure.
_ . ’Eyery/one was anxious to do something to
, please her. The days were but rounds of en-
 i'fi joyment; the only study, how to be gayest.
 T, "Even. Elizabeth forgot that life was any
'g‘  but a. dream, of love and idleness. Happy
 ih'Philipijs society, blessed, liy‘his tender atten-
flggusgauarrouuded by summer warmth and de-
ll'flig'ht, she felt like murmuring, with the Lotus-
 ?fl' tinbedsof mama a ' ~ ‘
«‘39th (while warmthaixgd $131363. blowing

. fWith’halI—dropteyelidsst .

   
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
  

  “theivwwmkggild 0133 i "l m
‘ ,, '  e yer

'18‘78161'8' ‘ from ’epurp hilljawngso y
‘ Marthedewyechoescal" ‘

O .
 From have to cave through tlligiluck-twisted vine—-
‘ . T hear the emeraldcolored waters falling ,
' t , ughinany a woven ecanthuewreath divine l"
'  Only to hear and see the tar-off sparklin ‘ brine
..  Onlyto hear were sweet. stretched oht eneuth the

_« ,- Let ire-1:23” an oath,and keep it withanequal

 In'the hollow Lotus-land to 1m and lie reclined
0a the  gods-together, careless of man-

a

   
  
 

 the  party reached Fitchville, and Were
 ' «welcomed by good aunt Faithful, in her best
. muslin cap with the “fluted border, and the

 dimming her line old eyes. She loved
V p - ,I'Elimbeth as a child, and wished her joy of her
1 » new lifewith a trembling earnestness which

  Lizzle’s own cheeks were wet with tears as she.
 introduced, Philip to her aunt; , ~

., I g Appreciating the character {of the old lady,
2f heflput’aeigie all unnecessary display, and with

 

   

    : '     f

, ‘ It had been‘arranged that two couples of

vases upon the mantle. A carpet of her own

.her traveling-mantle, and was out “into the '

' ming birds that flew about thehoneysuckles.

 

  Itnearly the first of September before , ‘
‘. is haunted with sweet memories {or me. 013’,

' contrasted well with the elegant compliments '

Which; had been lavishedupon her of late. , 'Wfld'flower’

‘ partaken of that evening; Along 

 

  

true high-breedin'gpkissed her cheek reverent— ‘ 

1y, anhxreceived her ' blessing, solemnly as she
gaveit. " ,  l _ a ‘ I

The gay young people otthe'p’arty lucked on 
with curiosity; the whole affair was different a
from any thing which had transpired Within '
their city observation. They sawnothing how~‘ ‘
ever, but what they, carelessaa they were,

could respect and admire. , ‘ 
Aunt Faithful was quaint, and “her house;  
and housekeeping were quaint, but rightvre- ‘ 

freshing they all seemed, upon that sultry
afternoon, during which her visitors'arrived. r i

I The cottage was low, but large, and so shel—
téred‘by trees, and so blown upon by a cool .
breeze from the mountains, that it wasmone 
desirable by for than the crowded chambers ot- . _ ,
a watering-place. She had met, them upon the ‘
porch, and now conducted them into the par- ‘ ‘ "~
lor, whose muslin curtains were tiedback with l "
blue ribbons, and whose atmosphere was delié‘
cious with the breath of the heneysucklesat v
the Windows. Bouquets of flowers, among ',
which were the homely china~asters and ever—‘ " »
lastings of her garden, with pinks, phlox and ‘
verbenas, were arranged in the old-fashioned,

 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
   

manutacture, almost as fine as “boughten,” L .
covered the floor,‘and the dark, solid mahog- ,
any furniture and low ceiling made the room
refreshingly dim upon-that glaring day. Q ‘
Aunt. Faithful was a widow, andrher only
son was away upon the sea. She lived alone,
with the exception of a’ couple, a. man. and his}
wife, who attended to the overseeingpofrher
Work. . ' ' ' '5:- '
There never was a -neater- mistress of, a
household than aunt Faithful; she/was what '-
her Puritan fathers Would have calledra new
ble woman. Elizabeth could ‘not remainloiig
in the parlor. 'She just paused to throw on

large dining-room the other side 0; the hall, '
back into the kitchen to shake hands with Mar-
garet, out into the yard, hot as the was, .
darting hither and thither, wild as the how

,After a time Philip went in searcher-hero _
.“ Oh, I think it is so delightful here,” much,
better than any other place lever was in. '7 It

Philip, I wish we were "going to live here for?
ever?” ' I» p l V
Philip smiled at the enthusiasm o ' I young ‘~'
wife. ’ ‘ ' "  '
“ This is just the place to have a pure
like the one I haVe gathered 
wear in my bosom,” he said.  " ‘    
What a pleasant tea was that Which-.was

around two sides of the diningLroonzi."'-:The

doors andwindo’ws Were all open;  cool,

    
    
   
  
 
 
 

 
   

a; .

V  c

I ,J_

summonses.   V r 

   

 

'g'reen’trees stood silently outside; and streigh't .

, out of. the‘golden heart of the sunset, a West;

' ern breeze blew lightly, joist, quiyering their ~

leaves. There was no, carpet upon the floor,
' w'hlchWas white as the wood could be made,
and waxed.  The table was spread with
ancient china, withpatterns of bright-colored
birds and flowers upon its white sur-
face. «The silver tee-things over which the
\ hostess presided were still more antique—they
A had been brought over from England by her

forefathers, two centuries previous. The fare,

' might have pleased an Epicurean. , p
, There was only one guest from the village,
and as no New-England festivity is complete
without the minister, of. course it Washe. Mr.
’ Hastings came at the appointed hour. He
' greeted- the bride with earnest kindness; his
[manner was quiet' and composed. After he
lied interchanged greetings with all and was
seated in‘conversation, Elizabeth saw that his
 race was a little thinner than when she met-him
last, end (his brow' even more thoughtful.
There~ was nothing melanchon in his demeanor;
his, talk was delightful; he inspired’ respect
\gwbile he checked nothing of the natural gayety
of a party‘of young pleasure-seekers. Every-
, body liked him. Blanche contrived to get by
his side at the table. She was ready to renew
 her flattering attentions.
So ready, that the next morning, when her
 escort was preparing to go on to the city, I she
 begged permission of dear aunt Faithful to
 allow her to remain as long as Philip and Lizzie
. i did. The new-married pair, to please the wife,
7 had resolved to spend several weeks in her
 native village. Blanche was so charmed with
 yerythlng there, so
1 y for rambles and rides, the wanted to stay. _ i
i7 " Blanche was truly delighted with this aspect
“, ‘ Of’r'nral lilo, at this pleasant season of the year,

 

1y promised herself a. more piqnant enjoyment
"lion that account. ‘

 Tomorrow—«who shall tell what it will bring
forth! Blanche, young, vivacious, beautiful»
Blanche said in bar heart that tomorrow should
bring be: fresh stores of pleasure and praise.

-, When they had been , at Fitehville about a
Week, a. riding party was made up. Blanche
I“Ode by Mr. Eastings’s side; her eye was bright
With health, her cheek blooming with exercise,
the dork-1 lumes waved above a face of glowing
 laughter‘rnng silvery clear; her
form, erect, full, queenlyrseotped oxultent with
“town lovelineu V ' , . ' - ’
 ‘fimew, as the bent to say some gentle
 molester, herholdnpon the rein,

 into the minister’s {one wither: arch glance,
paper Which had been caught ‘up .from the

 

  
   
   
 

   

  
  
  
   
  
  
 
  
   
 
  
  
  
   
 
   
 
  
  
  
  
 

before‘herhorse’s eyes; hefplunged fiercely to f f;
j ooe'side, and his ridéi‘ was thrown: heavily to '  I
the hard ground. ' The concussionwnsteu'ible, ,  v 
and the ‘elarmed htmndantsreeched her, to, and  1.: V , , ,.
what to thorn seemed but a deadbod’y.)   ; " _ ‘ .- , 2

r- m mums or , ‘

“mas‘lenmr  
c e v 

Wears yete precious jewelinits heed.” . .533

i  and Mrs. Vanderlyn were r:

to, and received the fearful news in 

take the night train out. When] they 

tge bedside of their child, in the grey  at _
t 0 next morni .she ad not ct 'voni ' " , 
of _consciousnes:,g’although she  
I Theyhed brought their family  '
them; It was as it‘Deeth 
the portals, while they waited tor“
: hour for struggling nature to sink or‘rise.‘ 
doctors were' doing whet the ‘ could.“ 
mother was obliged to repress '

,.
\ss

 

{either his bitter groans; all hung'pele 
shivering as with“ cold, fiupon the nut; 
breath now drawn with ‘a more f ‘
effort. 1‘ g 7 “ ‘
At length she opened  , 7,
slowly from race to (see; she made 
stir, when her breath was cut 
with a. spasm, herieyee closeds deathly, f '
came over her face, she was dying." v  » _ , .
“ h God, be merciful!” 
Faithful. , V  y , 3
Mrs. Vanderlyn gave a wild screen: ' ’
into the trembling armsof her husband."  "

t’\.

her eyes 

 

ms so . ‘suche lacex V f»
11’ pure, p ! ofhis wife and sprung forward with 
'- knife in his hand; tearing away “the ’ ~  
g from the swollen; emgurpled weand,
and would probably have stayed had there been .‘
' no Mr. Hastings in the village; but she certam- ~

look:

39353166 by the wind, came fluttering down

   
  
 
    
 
 
 
   

this instant Philip shook oil’ the flinging

the sharp point several times intofit-fthe littlest: 
looking on as if they thought   '
blood flowed ‘treelyrtrozn the as ‘ 'f  "j  
' relieved the excruciating pain a» little;  “
I. snatched away the breath ol.‘ the   ‘
r . Powerful restoratives we're used to m
; her from her sinkingstete; fora; whil’ojlito j
I fluttered to and fro, and hope flared. and 
‘ waned in the breasts or her iriends,   I; 
gvflame, of an expiring lamp;   
é‘medicalattendnnts allowed themselves to   
gfirm, this‘h‘ope; show better, and   
1 rally. By night they. announced    __ J;
symptoms ’were favorable;  nursing if ' "
might raise her, if she had the" caustitution to ,. “ , «.7
‘ bear long pain and confinementrbut, the wow; *  vél
a not'le‘eve her bed for weeks, liter     
’ he’r‘health would probably y'beol'ways  r
This was distng tidings; but so much ‘
1 better than they had atone time o d, that _ x J , a
g . her friends received it with heartfelt gratitude.  

      

    

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

. ’ I, 2631]

THE doom. ,

   

 

To the skill and untirin g watchfulnessmof Philip,

' who remained by her bed, noting her symp-

. toms and reportiugthem to the elder physician,

and to the gentle, patient nurSing of Elizabeth, .

Blanche owed her life. Hour after hour, day
after day, the tow remained with her, taking
*just rest enough to keep their-strength from
,» failing. At the end of ten days. the parents

returned home. With her inefficiency and rest-
lessness, Mrs. Vanderlyn was only a'hindrance;

“ » "her daughter, who was now permitted to whis-

‘ per a. few sentences at a time, herself urged
.her to go, knowing how irksome confinement,

 ' dark roomshhushed voices were to her mother.

If Blanche should have a relapse she could be
summoned in less than a day. So she very

; 7 A “gladly Concluded to return, though she Wept

 ireer 'upon parting with her unhappy ,child,'v
V  and declared over and over again to all, that
' ,nothinnghich had ever happened to horse

’ _ I completely prostrated her as this terrible blow.

/ :1 fine did not think she could ever be gay again

I a shiglexinstaut, even if her daughter recov-

ered. ' _ ’

g  After she arrived home, shetook to her
room, sitting in an elegant dressing-gown in
[her easy-chair,» with her vinaigrette in her

’ hand," receiving calls of condolence, and weep-

n" ing over the messages which were sent once or

.. twice aday, faithfully reporting, the condition
' ,of the sufferer. ,

.f selfishness had been supreme with her so long
’ that she was helpless to aid or comfort others;

M V ’ s : all the consolatiou‘she had was in the sympa—

thy which was expressed for her own great
“ trouble in being so afflicted. For her husband,
2::  by business as well as by this calam-
ity, she had not a soothing word. When he
' came home of an evening, it was to find her
” exhausted by a day of tribulation, ready to
v give, up,- nervous, sick. M'r. Vanderlyn felt
the, blow as deeply, as one of his temperament
eould; all'the heart he had was set upon his
heautitul daughter; as he looked around upon
“the magnificence which he had acquired, he

V “ j felt that he could give it all up for the assur

once that she would be restored to her former
health and loveliness. ‘

 ' "  , , . That was a terrible sick~bedto Blanche Vent

erlyn. , v
' When the first month of darkness was over,

'? _ and" liar suflerings had taken on a. dream-like

aspect, their memory being too agonizing to
remain palpable; when her pain was tolerably

' > , endurable; when the curtaiuoould be put back
a. little, and people could speak- aloud in her,
,‘ a room, and she could give a smile and word of

thanks for the flowers, dainties, and messages
that were lavished upon her, thenher spiritual

,.  affiliation was the greatest. Her soul was bowed]
i; " with , fear and trouble. She expected to he an I
I  invalidall her days. She could not, would not ‘

 

- . ».~_..mmzm -

be reconciled to the thoughtl’ ‘ She, so young, '
so ambitious, unaccustomed to restraint or
sickness! She, so admired, so beautiful, to
arise and find the roundness wasted from her
limbs, the luster of her eye dimmed by wearing

“pain; to give up dancing, dressing, festivity; to,

sit in her room, or perchanee creep down to a. 1
corner of the sofa, a pallid ghost, haunting the
places where she once ruled-as queen: no! it
could not be. Often she prayed for death, and
then shrunk from her own supplicatious. «,She
did not wish to die, and she could not take up
the terrors of life; the burden Was too heavy, _' ‘ '
laid upOn her too suddenly. Often her brow
was darkened with impatience, and bitterness
breathed from her pale lips. She would either _
be lost in a mute melancholy, or so fretful and 
repining that her tender, untiring sister had \.
her feelings sorely tried.‘ Still, she forgave ‘
every thing to the poor invalid, devoting her _
time to her wishes, reading to her, talking, 
striving to divert her mind, and, at the same‘_ 
time, strengthen it for its new task. - -_ , 
At this time, when she became able to bear 3
conversation and reading, Mr. Hastings be- 3
came almost a daily visitor. He saw the un- 
happy frame of her temper; he pitied-her, and t?”
approached her as kindly as a father Would a 
wayward child. He saw that it was hard for }:",'
her, with her education, tastes and habits, to ' 
give up to this calamity; it would have been
exceedingly trying to him, or any one, how—p 
ever firm their trust in eventual good, however
trained their minds to meet, adversity; and 
how much more fearful to this glittering creae 
ture of fashion and vanity! He wisely form
saw that the only way she could be reconciled, 
or won away from her melancholy, was to in" ",5
terest her in new- thoughts and pursuits. He 
began very gently. He did not; sit down and’ 
dictate a stern creed to her. He read enter-4,???
taining'books, of a higher order than she hedge
been accustomed to seek, revealing to her; "
view glimpses of the pleasant vistas which the:
poets had opened for her feet to wand?
through, and of the wonders of science, rein?
ing, in an elegant yet amusing manner, so. ‘
of.the new discoveries so full of vivid interim;
--leading, her on gradually to think oil?”
Ruler of the Universe, so greatfi‘n .
and of the human soul, so quick in 
gdream of “.3”

tion. '
Faraway, as in some fleetin

substantial things, floated the rapperygeeé
idleness of Blanche’s past life. She ,eould‘bl
ly realize that things so worthless 
absorbed her so completely. Her 
helpless as she was, seemed far more  » _
full of events. She promised herself 
health was ever given to her, t should, 3°;
for her own pleasure alone. 

  

i
w.

  

 

  

   
 
  
   
   
 
   
  
   
   
  
 
    

, a r deaths!  
impatient, irritable spirit was  in“) ‘

\ .

  

mm comfy: »

  
       

«x

V

 

humility. The change ’w'es upparent ln her

' ‘countenunee. Though thin, and pale, it had.

acquired’a spiritual look which made it very
lovely. She nov-longer/wearied and tried her
friends by needless expectations. Only at oer-‘-
tain times was she very restless,.and that Was

v when Mr. Hastings failed in his daily visit.

Blanche loved the minister. -Yes; asshe re-

‘ - Mined upon her couch in the calm ' Indian sum“

\

I ’sion. - It could hardly have been otherwise:

 

 

 

mer days,=looking through the open window
upon the purple hills and gorgeous forests,
Surely Bethe mist stole up from the valleys
and caught the red glory of (the sun upon its
snowy bosom, so surely her soul was transflg-
u'rednnd glorified in the light of this new pas-

that his spirit should have obtained such influ-

ence over here, without awokening in return a I

deathless interest in her teacher and coun-
selor. . ' r - V
, To be well-well enough, to work for him
and with him, to bless him with beauty and
love, nud’to be led by him safely, where other-

' ' wise her feet might falter, was now the one

wild, unattainable wish of her heart.
She did not expect it. She was growing bet-
ter in body as her mind was ministered to, and

had the promise of being able to go home before

the" extreme cold weather. But she had scarce-
ly. a hope that Mr. Hastings loved or ,‘ever
would love. her; she knew that to him she was
as spupil or a child, whom he delighted to
teach. But to her he was every thingr‘which 0n
earth she desired, teacher, friend, and more—-

’ oh, so much more. Now she knew the run
meaning of love, and how, to those to. whom it

  had' been revsaled, impossible and impure,

marriages of ambition and convonience must
seem. The nobility of the sentiment she enter-

\ Q tained was proven by the fortitude with which
. she tried to resign herself to «the thought that

> 1 her passion.

 

he could not return her affection, and by the

a r courage with which she tore herself from cir-

cumstances which were binding her Iasterto

As soon as she could. bear the journey, _she
expressed her desire to go home, and some t1 me

I in December, taking two days to the brief trip, ‘
the and Philip and Elizabeth amved at the
' home whereuthey-were so anxioudy expected. ‘
‘ _Blunc‘he burst into tears as she crossed the‘
threshold;
V itriuniphsnt I p I
that'was alnmst the only taken of weakness:
; that she gave.

at thoughtoot how happy and
she had last, passed over 1t~—but

’ . The delicate state of her health, which still
confined her mostly toiher room“, precluded the
round at festivities which would otherwise
haveyhonored the young married couple. No

 one regretted this but Vanderlyn. Eliza-
. both was glad of a pretext for withdrawing
'. from the round of excitement and dissipstion

! which it was theg'ffitshibnil'fl regard as pleasure.»
; She, too, had profited by'iold‘ assiociation,by:
'i the reflections of that sick-room, anda'ssoclation.",
with amind like that of  Hastings. ,» She 
talked much and earnestly .with' ~Philip"obcnt ‘  

, the true'method of seeking happiness; and "the
t true ideal of a noble life. .She found him’will;
, ing to enter into her plans, [one of which-:wni
i to remove themselvos’ from the temptations»!
; a merely fashionable life,‘ by taking ayhonse bf.
: their own, and keeping it in a style. suited to
' their .ideas of pr’opriety.’ For a while
hesitated on Blanche’s account, who p " , *
she should be very lonely without  in"
the same house; but she Was getting better all.
the time, and promised to be able tone” ; '  
visits. ’ " 7 _ .' j ‘ 
It was spring before all arrangements
completed, and Elizabeth u. 
her de . responsibility. ‘ A  
charmingly furnished, enmeshed: 
ence to the grand suits of rooms mama‘qu
unlimited entertainments; was presidedlore‘rflfiy
the happiest young wife in Christendom. ‘ f  15
When the warm weathercame on, 
hardly felt like shutting up her belowth
house to go anywhere; but Blanche neeth ,
change of air, and desired; to make a Visit 
aunt Faithful. Her. mother, of 
go to Newport; and so Lizzie and Philip‘gefi‘
companied her. The friends she had 
Fitchville‘ were glad to find how; mushgher
health had improYed. Mr. Hastings warden 
touched by the sweet serenity of a; 
once so haughty. She could walk quite slime
distance, and, her cheeks'were rounded
bloom again; the only serious concequenohfig
her accident still" lingering, was a? haunting
pain in her side, which increased withtoo‘
much exertion; or by taking ,cold.“tclt<~wasf
thought that her excellent constitution 
outwear even this’ln the course ultimo.  
Whether Mr. Hastinng hbsorbed‘ in‘ 
projects as he was, mild be meanest
lovely a. woman and not guess at’the interest"
he had awakened. we do not 
knewthat' she was fast becoming worth'y‘ot
the love and respect 0! any‘han. Andh’e
could hardly have been human  not han
been. touched by the gentle deference sheep,
pressed for his opinions and the" tainthlneh 
which came to her cheek, the dewy  \
her eye, When he was present. ‘ , ‘-   g
Aunt» Faithful’s visitors stayed but a; tow
weeks t 4 summer. Philip was now a. W- L
cing physician, with an oche'and regular pm... ..
tine, and must not neglzct his duties;  ~
too, had duties; the sweetest and mostjsucred .
that cluster about the hearthston’e.= Heroic an
extract of a, letter which she wrote to Mr.

  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
     
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
 
   
    
 
  
  
   
   
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
    
 

 

 

Hastings three monthsnlter her   .,
.\ “ I have nut 01! the boy’s christening untilyou can.

 

\ -,.., r  /,. x
‘ 'V   '. v I.

   
  
  
  
   
 
   
  
  
    
   
 
 
  

 

 

L r : Therm ' “  Y  L. 7
I. am; down} aridpeno  the rite yummy: ‘ go: A may  em (,5 an “r . '  ; t am rat:  :11
with our- emulssiofib name him other  ~ t , v r 
need got te you how hop? 1 m, A 'mougrh m {fink-bu she we hardly forgi a me it she knew H

mm .~ I ~ couple -
'agombflmmhem, bu twould mtshnnk tmm 033m on??? “ind &?°§ 31%: m 3%? I a
t ayllbeasti Of them. only may for strength to fulfil"! ;m . 2 I believe Iwoul do an mypowerhto‘ 3
 a? Visa“! To your'exalgnzgeugnd pregept 319th brings. thlloxia"! " , ‘ , _, , x:
2L, _ an myseltowemuc o o eeen reeoves. - V - l ,. . 

h  '~ H ‘eéhgve retired a great deal from Igalleria society, H  “mm have m “3° mane,” '1“; r 3,;
 our it’lxlvgarilgfiknlow Waste always 3 adta) efiegem. which the minister dropped his headwupon his 
 - _ P’s 0' 0° 359“ disappeam 3 9 .039 hand in a, sudden happy dream of future pos: _v 
 $339333”ng em men kmwfig’gglggg grbwamegg abilities she would have been satisfied: with

 

me e husks from t ,
V‘ \ his autumn is rich in charity and good deeds. the result of his reading at her communication.  ‘
f . ghnghe dog: $111 083:??? dew: (112133?!“ The » christening was performed without,  
x‘ ‘ V ' We 1' n n ' ‘ ‘ ’f .
.C  suireiver. He does an mimeggg amount of nfedle“ dd", and it is expected that  wed" .
" - visiting among these who reward, him with nothl dlng will shortly follow. ' r , , 
'  thehfig‘gm‘ge- He can mordtOdoi “A queer match-for Blanche Vand‘erlyn,” ' 
«3” “1‘39 ‘ '  ' ‘ winbetheprobabieremerkot hertnhio’nable 
l l‘ You must come soon, anti see how charmin . - » > v .
' we ‘live‘: My ._ too, cannot’wait‘long for s acquaintance; but, she c1098 110$  the" , a
‘ Aw el‘ie isyasp, endid little {(511022 myfmnds say. opinion of such vital importance 33, she was I r ::
fie “3.”! “fig: umfigi‘gg figmehims-he $13160? did. She will marry; man for the love‘sheV ;
' v "Well; at least we ho. so, a.th much more 1393175 him, and Win 107011101 101"  Which is '
» '1 than ever. [Why 0 you not choose her most worthy of her affection.  ‘ r '

 

,4