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-1 S01JSET IN DIALOGUE.
FittMC (on the lauii). Couif totlie terrace, Maj the uii Is low. MiV (inthehou--c). Thanks! I prWeriny Jirowningheru Instead. Fhwk. There arctwo peachea by the straw berry-bed. Mv. They will be riper if hu let them grow. FllAK. Then, the Park-aloe i In bloom, you know. Mat. Abo, ber .Majesty, Queen Anne, Is dead, Crank. Hut surely. May, our jony must be fed, MAT. ' Ami a, ami 1?. I fed blm hours ajjo. 'Tii uclt-H, Fruak you m I ehall not.-tirl FlIANK. Still, I hd comet bin j; you would like to heur. 3Ur. No doubt, t-ome new lrU oliiy of men. Flt-IMC. Smv, tl a thing the gentler wx deplores Chiefly, 1 think Mr coming to the window). What U tbU secret, then? Frank (inyterIoiily). There are no ej e more beautiful than yours! Auxtm Dobton, SOSG. "Spirit of tlic Summer woods, Hreathl.iK through f ar solitudes, !Ialeu' for the north wind Mow; Shortly Jail the uiiilry Mum; Witli tl.e IiinMnjr and tlie bee. Soon thou'llllnd norooiulorttiec' Spirit of tho Autumn irrove, U li-n the footMep idly rrnes. Ami the rustling leaves nrouml Whirl and settle mi the pruund. Ila-lo thee, for the pentunlrinc ltuls the world and thru ndieul Ins ao the violet fled. And yunow by the rlverS bed; lxnx itj the jrolden-rod Faded, ami the slIk-wecd'Hrtod Sowed witllslUery Hakes the air. Floating, hoverin;-, eerywhere. Now the fox-lire on the lilll Miowalhnt nteht jrrow dark and chill ; Wliil" the clou -uonu by the stream Faintly shhiei with faded beam; And astern 'mid the leafless bowers ihut the day time of thefloweiM Draw the curtains; cloc the door; Kid t lie hii'kory lilaze and roar; Make the lie--jrars want thine own; llest the weary; cheer the lone; Then, old Winter, ntnie with me Thou my iruest and sons shalt b ! -!ViH.M.l:ri2gtttn Scnlner! "Jlrvxt-flrac MONSIEUR. I raised my cjes from my book to those of M. De Mott was it magnetism that controlled them? anil, as I en countered his searching look, I verily ticliuvo that I blushed, though 1 ac counted myself too hackneyed to give evidence of such freshness. However, my glance happened to fall, next, upon the mirror, and I smiled with a little feeling of self-contempt: a glance in that direction usually sullieed to excite that emotion, for albeit I had an ideal iirain, and would gladly have found therein a beautiful face, per contrary I was accustomed to teeing a sometimes sallow visage reflected from its surface. Whatever my capabilities, I was used to meditating, they were not those of bending mankind at my feet in homage -of ray beauty; and whatever gift.s a woman may have, to her mind nothing quite compensates this lack. And in contract there was always near me that face of Loraino's chiseled and tinted so beautifully. It was lor this reason that I took M. De Mott's scrutiny so ill. lxira was at my side, and I knew he had been com paring us; so I made some miserable jest that no doubt caused him to place amiability among my other needs. " It is strange, Olie," said my cousin, " that there, are times when 1 can not make you out." Dear, lovely Lora, I hardly think she ever mado me out. She might have un derstood certain qualities which were but accidents of my nature, but the real individual, whether in gracious mood or otherwise, she did not understand. " I tim scarcely orth the trouble, my Loraino," I replied, pinching my arm in punishment for what I hail said that annoyed her, " but look iu the glass and vou will see. IVoplo are like what they look to be; their faces can not utter .falsehoods. Yon, Iora, are like a flow er. What a pleasant sensation a glance -at you man bringan observer!" (Lura bluhel now under 31. l)e Mott's smil ing eyes), "while 1 look at the s-piare jaws."" M. l)e Mott smiled at mc, and I.grew angry, and was led to say, " Itut A will gain the respect of the worthy and live as well as though I were beautiful," and I glanced defiantly his way. " Now does Miss Ofive say the most sensible words she has yet spoken. It is Balzac who has said that a plain woman is only in danger of being loved too well. But I am only taking Miss Olive at her own valuation ; it would scarcely bo po- bto to call a lady plain. , " Your politeness is very suggestive," ; I replied. "I am plain, and no one will j ever love me " A peculiarity of Miss Olive's to utter words which afterward caused the forehead to tingle with shame. ' I)e Mott turned his eyes away with an j amused look. " It will do for Miss i Olive to make such statement only lie- I fore mc, but in presence of some other gentleman it might meet with a practical denial." " He must mean Lawrence Wharton," I thought, who was only drawn to me by the law of opposite, I always cx , plained to Lora when I thought she no ticed his preference. Iarrcy,as we called i him, was a ward of my uncle's, lira's j father, and lived in his family; M. I)e Mott was my uncle's partner; I also was in my uncle's charge. Bcforo leaving, 51. I)e Mott invited me to a concert that night; he had al ready secured Loraine's attendance. He had asked mo at the eleventh hour, hoping I might have some other oppor tunity; but then there were always lions in the way if I wished especially to go anywhere, so I accepted his escort. At the concert we had not long been seated when Larrey joined us, looking tired and nervous. "He should have come around for me in time," he said, " but old Morton's wife was sick and he had taken his place atjthe books." (Larrey was unoccupied; he had but just made his exit from col lege, and had not yet decided upon his life work.) " The" governor says that the oooKs must oe Kept up, so i snau have to work until Mrs. Morton mends." " And the salary?" I asked, in concern for tho old couple, for I knew it was their only dependence. " Oh! that goes on of course. -What could I do with it? My quarterly allow- anco has to go a-begging now, I can I not find ways for it." The blessetl larry: l well Knew that, from the expensive keepsakes that I had so often thrust back upon him. " If doing His bidding constitutes one, you, Larry, must be one of the Lord's servants." I said to him. Ho smiled, pleased at my approval. "Olie, you will return in my carriage. Monsieur is not particular about having charge of more than one lady." Monsieur was, perhaps, watching for the entrance of the cantatricc, and did not reply. " I)e "Mott, will you give Miss Olie to my care for the remainder of the even ing?" M. I)e Mott turned slowly and exam ined me with cold, critical eyes.and turn ing from me indifferently, replied to Larrey, "Miss Olive is "at liberty to make her own choice." His sang-froid always made me irate, and I replied, ' Thanks, Monsieur, mv choice shall be a good one ; it shall fail on yna, Larrey." In our set Monsieur was considered something of an enthusiast. He had in youth left France, diguted with its rulers, and fired with admiration for our free institutions. In the Franco-Prussian war, when Napoleon fled from France, ho returned to it, and took up arms. Later, despairing of its ever lie coming what he had once hoped for it, he returned to his adopted country. For two years ho had been connected in business with Lora's father, and, not withstanding the pre-tige of his career, wu had never during that time discov ered in him any indications of ardor. For me, 1 hall mv privatoopinion con cerning his enthusiasm. I believe that his nature was phlegmatic and his cir culation sluggish, and for his heart bah! it was but an organ furnished with the proper auricles and ventricles for receiving and propelling the blood, which latter never throbbed slowly with pain or quickened with a generous emo tion. A week from this time four of us sat tinder tho trees, on a warm September day. Larrey had drawn unnecessarily near, and, as uual, upon such demon strations on his part, I took occasion to bore whatever listeners 1 might have with a sentiment of my resolves. They were in tho direction of celibacy. " There was no true marriage with out suitability," I stated, having my syllogistic thebr- all at my finger-ends. " I was peculiar, therefore unsuitcd to that state, and I would not dare trust my happiness," etc. Iarrey sighed, and Lora watched him furtively. " I had no adaptability, no conform ity; with Lora it was different." She colored under I.arrcy's inspecting eye, and then Monsieur came to the rescue , with his delicate tact, as he always did ' if wo were growing uncomfortably pcr sonal. He dexterously picked up the lost thread of the discourse, and dropped , us all from its connection. " Wherever a man finds in woman the ! nameless qualities which appeal to his manhood, call forth his affection, de veloping his higher nature, making him a stronger and better man, there you ' have tbo elements of true marriage; and when she finils one with the power of arousing her capabilities, with strength to sustain her faltering, and worthy enough to call forth her entire trust, there too is the germ of marriage. Then beauty, or nationality, or creed weighs not in the balance." And M. l)e Mott arose, smiled, brought his hat with a graceful curve over his heart, 1 bent in low salute as only a Frenchman can, and di-appearcd among the trees. There was a little silence, and then said Iirrey, "Monsieur must have had a varied experience. I wonder what doctrine I shall propagate at 35?" i " I am sure, Larrey, you will have un dergone a change. At your ago Mon sieur may have been only an ordinary, chivalrous Frenchman." "And now, Olie, what is ho now?" "I scarcely know," I replied, half , sighing, for I sometimes felt annoyed that ho puzzled me. "Ask Lora; she must understand him; he always seeks her out." " Monsieur, O I do not know Monsieur. 1 It is true he asks me out, and is kind to me, but I am always left to his care. He is like Olie, self-contained, but much more impenetrable. Monsieur is a true gentleman." The hist clause was spoken as if in his defense. Old Morton, as Larrey called hira.was overwhelmed with distress. His wife, it was thought, might not recover, and Larrey begged us to go around and see if we could lie of use to them. Ira, kind-hearted, filled a basket with delica cies for the invalid, but she could not bear the sisht of sickness and suffer ing, and always strove to keep it out of tier uaiiy me. My visit gave tho old man an oppor tunity for rest, and I remained with the sick woman until night set in. The street was an obscure one, and I was obligi-d to walk some little distance be fore reaching one where conveyances were at hand. I did not think of dan ger, however; not even upon seeing two men cowering in a doorway. They stepped out on my passing, and one of them grasped my arm. 1 attempted to spring" from him, when I was aided by a blow from bchinu me wnicn levcieumin to the walk. The other fled. I was at first too frightened to comprehend, but in a moment knew that my deliver was M. I)c Mott. Hut could this bo Mon sieur, scarcely less agitated than my self? " Moncijnt.ur," ho breathed as he bent over me, " c'csl le viaage tl'ttne fuje! How happy I am to have found you in time! Never trust yourself again in such by-paths as these." , " Did you come for me. Monsieur?" ' Yes, I will always come for you, or go with vou. But promise me." " I will promise any thing after be- ' ing rescued from such a horror." I stood leaning against the wall; M. Do , Mott stood near waiting until I should again possess myself, and looking at me, for once, not with critical eyes. Monsieur was eap.ible of enthusiasm. That night when I had reached my room I sat long without a definite thouiiht. At last I walked to the mir ror. ""He had said that my face was that of an angel's. I looked into the large gray eyes and the startled me with their unusual light, but I saw nothing angelic there. Did M. De Mott con sider me his affinity, and view me, con sequently, with prejudiced e3'cs? I smiled, and tho mirror reflected a sar- i castic gleam from the unbelieving gray eyes. A longer time than usual passed be fore ho called again. We were in the drawing-room, Lora and I. He entered, as usual, without ceremony, and greeted us, as always, with his "cold smile a smile that was like moonlight upon ice, ' and during his stay his speech bore traces of his occasional cynicism. I was what I had feared I might not be at ease with him again. Surely it was not Monsieur who had rescued me on that fearful night. And so the months went on after their old routine, Larrey subject to all my whims, and M. De Mott still in attend ance on Lorainc. The snow had lain on tho ground for weeks, white and chill as death, the flashing of bright sleighs, and sound of cheerful bells, alone mak- j ing tho monotony endurable. j On one of these white cold days Larrey I and I were out for a ride. Our steed, a mettlesome one, from excess of spirit I began to run with us, and at length ' Larrey lost control of it,and running into another sleigh we were thrown forward among the horses. We were picked up and carried into some building. I was conscious of all that passed, but was i not quite sure in what world it was transpiring. A crowd soon gathered, and it was dispersed by the gestures of an arm that seemed familiar to me. A doctor arrived. " The lady first," said a steady voice. i "A slight injury of tho head," was the doctor's decision. " She should be taken home immediately." I M. De Mott raised mo in his strong i anus. " And Iirrey," I inquired. " He is badly injured," said the phy- j sician, " but will recover. I will have i have my horse brought round and carry ' him home myself." When we arrived at my uncle's Lora was out, and we were alone. Monsieur t drew up an easy chair for me and re moved my wraps, and then looked down j upon me with a serious eye. ! " Olive, it is needless to defy fate. Something leads mc to you whenever you are in need of me. I am your natural protector, Olie." " Yes, it seems so." " Dare you trust yourself to me, Olie? I have no other object to love or cherish." J "I dare." He looked at mc long and earnestly, and then ho murmured, with an accent J of almost pain, "Cher Seigneur, c'estlc j visage d'une ange." It brought up all the contradictions i of the past weeks, and I exclaimed, ( " But are you quite sure it is, Monsieur?" "Quite," ho replied gravely. "All these months you have only known De Mott. Monsieur you have met but twice, and the second time you promise to become his wife." Larrey had received severe injuries, and it took long weeks to bring him back to health. But he had three attent ive nurses M. De Matt, myself, and, if last mentioned, not -the least, Lora. ! She shunned no longer sickness and pain. One day, when the birds were 1 with us again, and the beautiful flowers, I sat upon the veranda reading to Lar 'rey. ' " Olie, let's put up the book," after awhile ho said to me. I closed it; Lar I rey's will had become law with us, he was such a patient, unexacting invalid. " Do you know, Olie.I think we never j quite understood Monsieur." 1 I smiled. "In the old days (it seems so long ago that I was well) I fancied that he did not quite approve of my admiration for you: but now he listens patiently i when I speak iu your praise, .and some times presses my "hand as though he was 1 thanking me." " "Does he, Larrey?" "And of late I have grown to think that Monsieur was right; that there U something we can't define that makes one person the suitable mate of anoth j er, and that you, Olie, were never in tended for me." "I am not good enough, dear Lar rey." ! " You are too good for any one, un , less it be Monsieur. But, Olie, should , Monsieur one day be of mv opinion, promise me that nothing shall interrupt our friendship." " Nothing shall, Larrey." " And now, Olie, do you think I could ever make Lora happy?" " You could make her very happy." 1 " Well, I mean to ask her that qucs ' tion when I am strong again." Just now we ee a tall figure coming I up the walk, and soon a smile, no longer i like moonlight upon ice, greets us both. , My finger's are pressed by a warm hand, and my eyes arc met by a glance that j thrills me. Itrrcy is "wearied by our long conversation, and ho enters the I lioiisu leaning on tho arm of Monsieur. i Marie S. Lwld, in the Domestic Monthly. . I Ministeus' of the interior Cooks. f.