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10 U WLitMtti Mmhj gaoler- jfcraflag pmtiitg, Ufcutft 9, 1890.. pew appertammg to Tho Hawthorns Tho Hawthorns had a right to it, as it had to the fishing in tho Oxhaugh water and in this pew tho family deposited J themselves on the first Sunday after their coming. People see each other in church; t this is a good thing; in truth, it is the end of going to churoh to worship in the company of our fellow creatures; but, like every other good thing, it can be put to bad uses, such as criticising glances, uncharitable thoughts, etc. The minister, but moro especially the minis ters wife, is apt to think it an exceed ingly wicked thing in any one to sleep in church, and it would not be good to advertise a prize for the best esay in de fence of the weakness, although a great preacher was not offended, nor did he Beem to consider it a deadly sin, when a young man fell into a dead sleep as he was Jong preaching. Self made men are probably not such humble worshipers as men who have not been made at all; still, Mr. and Mrs. Wright, with the perpetual consciousness of intensely comfortable circumstances, all owing to their own good guidance, were religious people, and they went to church from the best of motives. Partly owing to this, and partly to the fact that their powers of observation were not quite in their first jeunesse, they did not see every one that was in it; but Miss Wright listened at tentively to tho services, and could not help mastering tho population of iho district at the same time. In particular, in a pew on the other side of the church, below a gallery and immediately under her eyes, she saw the manager of the mill, his mother and what she knew must be his sister; and in this girl she instantly recognized the distressed dam sel to whose appeal for the loan of a shilling she had not only refused to listen, but whom she had told thac sho did not in tho least believe her story. Their eyes met, and tho recognition was mutual; Katie withdrew hers with an unpleasant sensation, and Sarah felt her face grow red and warm. Next day Miss Wright wrote to hor cousin, thus: "Dirui JA5II3 Do come here imme diately; I wanl to show j'ou something you would like to see. "Yours, S. Wright. "Tho Hawthorns, July 20, IS."' To which he rejoined: "Dear Sarah I can't come; I am busy among my turnips, and unless it is something of great importance you must excuse me. Truly yours, "J. Jameson. ".Tustinloe. July 20. 18-" "Dear Jasies It is very important. Do you personally hoe turnips? Do come. S. AVright. "Tho Hawthorns, July 21, 18." "Dear Sarah At times I personally hoe fciraips. and the eye of a master is worth much. Tell mo what I am to see, and I'll judgo if I can come. "Yours, J. Jamieson. "Jnstinlee, July 21, 18." "Dear James I won't tell you what you are to see, but please don't neglect your turnips on any account. lam yours affectionately, S. Wright. "Tho Hawthorns, July 22, 18." "Dear Sarah Is it a thing I could Bee between Saturday night and Monday morning? I could come then, if that will do. Yours ever, J. Jaiiiesok. "Justinlee, July 22, 18." "Dear James That will do, capitally. You must see it on Sunday you cant help it but wo mupt not speak of it on that day. I shall expect you; don't fail me. S. Wright. "The Hawthorns, July 23, 18." Accordingly Mr. Jamieson arrived at tho Oxhaugh station on tho next Satur day evening. Miss Wright met him and drovo him up to Tho Hawthorns. "Well," ho said, "what is it Tm to eee?" "You'll find that out when you see it." "When am 1 to seo it?'' "To-morrow." "Can I not see it to-night?' "Well, if wo were to take strong meas ures we might, but it will be better to wait till to-morrow." "Strong measures! What can it be? Where am I to seo it?'' "At tho church." "At tho church! It's not a grave, is it? Is Ossian or tho Venerable Bede or Mary of Lorraino or John Knox's first wife buried here?" "I don't know; they may be, all four of them. It's not a grave you are to seo, but you must look grave when you see it. Mind that, above all things." "Shall I bo inclined to laugh? Is it funny?" "Oh, very funny. But we had better say no more about it; you'll seo it in good time, and you won't need mo to point it out." "Very well; I'm not curious. I feel as I do when I'm reading a story where there is an extraordinary mystery always kept before you; you know that nothing can pofcfeibly happen to justify the expec tations that have been raised. However, if I get away on Monday early in the morning, I don't mind." "Certainly, you can go by the first train, and Til drive you down with great pleasure, and very likely we shan't seo you all summer again." "What! do you think I shall take of iense at your nonsense? Not a bit." "We shall see." v.w- nioxniiur thoWrishts and their guest- were seated in their gallery in very good time. Miss Wright watched the peoplo coming in, and at length, when she saw tho Bertrams enter, she fixed her eyes on her cousin's face to note the effect. The Bertrams were set tled in their seals with their faces full in bight before ho noticed them, then all at onco he saw and knew the eyes that had gleamed on him from tho carriage win dow at Summertown station, and ho bent his head and smiled with tho kind of expression people have when they find out they have been pleasantly fool ed. He turned to Sarah and whispered. "Who is she? what is she?' "Hush! hush!' she exclaimed, gravely; "it's a subject we must not speak of to dav." , vin. ill, said Kaive Bertram as .he and hor. brother were together iu the gar den in the evening, "was the gentleman who was in tho Wrights' seat todav the person who was with them when they w ere here?" 'Yes," said Will, shortly. "Well, he was tho man who lent me the shilling at the railway station, you remember?'' "I remember well enough; ho was the man, was he?' "Yes, and Mrs. and Miss Wright were the two ladies who would not believe a word I said." "Not Miss Wright, surely?" said Will. "Yes; sho said to her mother that ask ing money on some pretext was becom ing a regular dodge at all the railway stations."" "I could have supposed that of Mr. or Mrs. Wright they are narrow minded people, and narrow minds aro always suspicious but I can hardly believe that of her. She must have learned it from ihem, and her own dispositions have not asserted themselves yet." "But how will they agree?"' said Katie. "They'll never agree after they are mar ried, they are so different." "Except that they have been seen speaking together, there is nothing to make any one supposethey have the least intention of marrying." "I think it would bo a pity," said Katie. "A great pity," said Will; "it is al ways a foolish thing for cousins to marry." "Oh, they are cousins, are they?" "Yes; he called Mr. Wright uncle, so I infer they are cousins. You should go and call on her, Katie." "I call on her! Why, she won't think us her equals at all. Besides, it is not pleasant to call on people who suspected you of a regular dodge." "Well, well, just as you like," said Will. "I think myself quite her equal, whatever you do." "It's not whatever I do, it's whatever she does, that is the question. Does Mr. Jamieson stay with them always, do you know?" "I know nothing about it," said Will shortly, anJ ho walked away to another part of the garden. Next morning Sarah came down equip ped for driving, and ready to give her cousin his breakfast before they started. "You see I always keep my promises, James," sho said; "and now that it is Monday morning we may speak of it as much as you like.' "It -does not keep a baker's shop," said he. "No, my wisdom was at fault there; Bho is tho manager's sister. I mean to call today and apologize for toy horrible suspicion at Summertown, and if she'll come I'll bring her up to spend the day." "Well, you can't do moro than apolo gize, or less than ask her to visit you." "Get on with your breakfast, please; I don't mean that you shall miss this train. Turnips first, and beauty in distress after ward." "I'm ready; I don't mean to miss this train either." And they started. When they came in sight of the man ager's house Sarah said, touching his arm: "James, the blinds are still down; she must bo bleeping. They say even a criminal is holy while ho is sleeping; what must she be?" "It's a pity you are not sleeping too, I think," said he. "Tho manager is not asleep, at least; there he is, standing at his gate." "So he is; wa must speak, even at the risk of losing tho train." And she drew up. "Do you think," sho said to Mr. Bertram, "that it would be convenient for Miss Bertram for mo to call as I come" back I am anxious to speak to her? I would have called last week, but the country air, and the thing I want to speak about hanging on my mind, mado mo bashful." "Quite convenient. I will tell her to expect you. "And tell her I should like if sho would go up v.'ith mo and stay till even ing if she can." "I know of nothing to hinder her, and I'll come and bring her home." "Good-by, then. We haven't a mo ment to lose; Mr. Jamieson must catch the train it is of tho last importance:"' and she touched the horse with her whip and sent him on at a fine speed. "Now," sho eaid, "here you are, James, in time. I'll not come out, as I can't leave Gin. Good-by! We shall not expect to see you till November, when you havo got tho harvest well in, but I'll write and tell you what I think of her. What a pity you could not stay till to-morrow! Farewell!" "Farewell!" said he. "I think you'll find Mr. Bertram's conversation informa tory, as tho newspapers say." "I have no doubt I shall. Just come down a peg, will you, and ask me to help you with beauty in distress?" "Thank you; I don't need help, but I'm not the less obliged. Good-by!" IX. i It was a curious thing that a week after, tho following Mondaj-, when 3Ir. Ber tram left the mill between o and G o'clock, he met Mr. Jamieson. They shook hands. "You aro on tho way to The Haw thorns, I suppose?" said Mr. Bertram. "No, I was not thinking of going to night; I am just going homo again." "Indeed! but you'll come in for a little? I Have you time? I am going in to tea, and it will be ready. Katie, my sister, will be glad to seo you, too; she told me it was you who helped her .in her strait at the railway 6tation." "Did sho remember me?" asked Mr. Jamieson eagerly. "Of course she did; she hasn't had so many adventures as to forget that one; and I feel obliged to you for helping her." They went in and found Mrs. Bertram and Katie waiting for Will; they were both much pleased to see Mr. Jamieson. "I didn't know when you were here before," said Mrs. Bertram, "that we were obliged to you for being kind to Katie when she was in perplexity."' "I knew you as soon as I saw you in the church," said Katie. "So I did you," said Mr. Jamieson. "I wonder a little at that," sho said, "for I don't find many people have such a good memory for faces as I have." "All, but I don't remember every face I see." ho answered. You 11 bo or. your way to The Haw- inuiiia. ouujjfb. .cxjriraui. ; tie nan ro explain again that ho was not on his way to The Hawthorns. me manager thought, "if he were en- J gaged to Miss Wright he would never be j so near without going there; even if he is hereon business he would have turned 1 it so as to go there. -Mr. .Bertram was by no meansa dunce. but the idea of Katie having a lover had never dawned on him; she had had no lover yet. Mrs. Bertram, with the pride of fallen fortunes, had not cultivated so ciety of any kind; Will had attended to ids business late and early, and had not cultivated it cither; so Katie was much in the position of the lovely young La vinia when the pride of swains crossed hor nsth. It was a varm summer evening, and with the window thrown up they sat and talked till Mr. Bertram got impatient, for he had to go to the mill again; and he wondered how long his guest meant to stay. One train hour was past and an other imminent, with no sign of move ment. At last he said he would run over to the mill and come back in a little. Then Mr. Jamieson said they would look at the garden till he returned, and Katie went out with their visitor to show the garden. Katie, in light summer garments mov ing about among flowers, showed to much greater advantage than she did wrapped in a dark cloakas Mr. Jamie son had first seen her. She looked very happy and serene, but she did not talk much, nor did he. He had meant to sit in judgment on her, but he could no more do it than he could fly. She stoop ed over a flower bed and pulled a pansy. "See," she said, "if you gaze into that flower a while you'll catch yourself won dering it does not speak at least I do often." "Thank you," he said, "I'll put it in my buttonhole. Perhaps it will speak to me as I go home. You have got ac quainted with my cousin Sarah, I sup-, pose?" J,Yes, a little." "And how do you like her?"' ''Vmt well: Ehe is frank 3?id kind."' "And clbiT," he said. "I wondered how she made such a mistake about you at Summertown." Kate blushed and said, "I don't like to think of it." "Eut you don't object to my thinking of it; it is pleasant to remember one's meritorious actions." "You must have thought me wicked for a whole fortnight." "No, I didn't; I merely suspended my opinion. Were you far beyond Sum mertown that day?" "Not beyond it at all. I was visiting an old friend of mamma's who lives two miles to the west of it." "Then perhaps you don't know the country farther on?" "No." "Justinlee is five miles farther on; that is where I live and where I was born. I succeeded my father in the farm. There are only three of us now myself and two sisters and they are both married." "If you gaze into that flower a wMle.n "Then do you live alone?" she said, with an involuntary touch of compas sion in her tone. "Yes; do you think that sad?" "Oh, no, not at all; plenty of people prefer to live alone. But I shouldn't like it; it would not suit ue." "It suits very well till one sees some person one would like to live with." "People must love a place very much where they have been all their lives," she said. "Yes, and I love Justinlee: it is worth loving. I wish you had seen it; it is an old house, with additions built to it, not regular, but very picturesquo, and from the windows you look over a great stretch of sea and laud." "I am sorry," said Will, whohadcomo up to them through the garden, "that I was kept longer than I expected." "Well," said Mr. Jamieson, "I am sorry that it is time for mo to go. Per haps if you havo nothing better to do, you will walk with me to tho station?" "I shall bo very glad," said Will; "and, Katie, you might come, too, or have you been walking today already? But come, you don't look tired, and it will do you good." "Oh, "yes," she said, "I'll go." When Mr. Jamieson bade Mrs. Ber tram good-by she said sho hoped he would call on them again any time that , j he was passing to The Hawthorns, which ho very heartily promised to do, and said it was likely that he would be often there in the course of the summer. The trio wero not far on their way when whom should they meet driving but Miss Wright? She saw them ap proaching, and drew up her horse as she came near. After they had spoken she turndd to Mr. Jamieson and said: "No wonder, James, that you despised my help: you certainly aro independent of human aid." "Yes," he said, "in the matter 'you spoke of." "Quite so, in tho matter I spoke of. How aro your turnips looking?" "Verj- well indeed; they only need a shower to be all I could wish." "I am glad of that. Couldn't you como up with mo and stay till to-morrow? I really had no hope of seeing you till November." "Thank you, no. not to-night, but I'll come next week for a day or two." "Very well," she said, and drove on. i Mr. Bertram came back, sure that his ( mother was mistaken entirelv as to the ' relations existing between Miss Wright . uuu .mi. DU.LU1C2UU, .uu ijuc, &iiu ' thought of Mr. Jamieson. her thought t as yet being like the faintest breathing on a mirror, but as he came and came j again his full image rose to tho surface- and remained there . One davWill said (for even vet the' .,..,- ,V ,. . -, ! thing haa not occurred to lnmj: "I won-, der. Katie, what brines that man here i to ofton?" i jvato blushed. "It must bolus own good pleasure," she answered. i Will said no more; the matter stood , revealed to him at last, and he had a i queer, stinging feeling that the sister of 1 whom he was so fond."and who had been about him like one of his own hands j an njs iife? was weaned away fromliim. Yet he could liave chosjn nobetter broth- -in-law, and lie knew it. On the 10th of October, the anniver- sary of their first meeting, Mr. Jamie- i son transferred Katie Bertram to Justin- 1 lee. They went on no wedding tour, pre ferring to live the memories of the honeymoon in their own home, and . postpone, the tour of Europe till they should grow rich; it is well that people should been some new nlaaiaxra b&fara ' Sikh 1'A w-sLwcj ML them to "Dear them up under the' burden of riches. But the aunt whom Mr. Jamieson had been on his way to visit when youth and beauty in distress ap peared to him, "presented the bride with a sumptuously bound book of travels entitled "Forty Days in the Desert" She must have thought this an appropriate gift for people entering on the honey moon, as she repeated it on the occasion ot Jdiss Wright becoming Mrs. Bertram, which event occurred in the course of another year. The presentees enjoyed the joke; there are times when even a small joke is as sweet manna in the well, desert. Mr. Bertram had before his marriage got a partnership in the mill, and Mr. Wright, having bought The Hawthorns, proposed resigning that place of resi dence in favor of his daughter and her husband, but Will declined it; he knew that being obliged to such a man as Mr. Wright meant always talcing his advice when offered, and having it offered very frequently. Sarah was quite willing to live in the manager's house till her hus band could afford a better one. Mrs. Bertram Senior continued to t live in her son's house, except when she visited her daughter; and if, as is said, mothers and daughters-in-law always disagree, this case must have been the exception that proves the rule, for the two ladies agreed admirably; while Mr. Bertram, by dili gently holding liis tongue and letting his father-in-law speak, found much favor in that gentleman's sight. Mr. Wright, being the kind of self made man who thinks when he takes any one by tho hand that ho makes him too, felt that when Will became his son-in-law he, by reason of reflected consequence, became a man of mark and considera tion; even Will's dreaming visions of scientific progress, although Mr. Wright did not at all approve of tliem, he quoted to others with pride, but then, as he said, "Mr. Bertram was a practical man aa well as a dreamer." If the ill natured railway clerk hap pens to see this account of all that hung upon his disobliging humor, what will he think? Let him not be encouraged to do evil that good may come; if Cupid mado an opportunity out of his ill nature for shooting an arrow, no thanks to him. Lippincott's Magazine. the end. WHEN I GO HOME. TFLen I go home, when I ro homo to hitn! 1 like to picturo to myself his way Of greeting mo, and what his lips shall say And mine reply; and will his eyes be dim With iriUt of joy tears? Will my coming bo As dear a boon to him as ho has dreamed? Will all the glad bewilderment that seemed So sweet in fancy find its verity When I come heme ? Or will some fancied change Of speech or look or mien the one transform Who used to wear for him a nameless charm. Tempering his joy with shadows new and strange? With shadows darkling for a little space, And then, O, sweet beyond imagining, The cadences half sob, half song, will ring With tho old music, hallowing the place. My glad heart has no room in it for doubt. The morning glories clambering at the door, With leaves and blooms and tendrils leaning o'er, Flecking the sunshine, cannot keep it out. I love to fancy the felicities That shall be mine upon that day of days, The old endearing names, and tricks of phrase, And smiles that haunted all my reveries. If rain or sunshine be, or gloom or gleam, The day of my return, sweet opulence Of gladness, flooding mood and circumstance, Eh nil smile across the mists with roseate beam. When I go home again! When I go hornet My feet have stiayed upon these journeyinga, But my heart never; all my longing clings . To the old haunts; always my fancies come Back to the old abiding place to rest, Howe'er I wander under alien skies. And find forever there their paradise, Loves very el answering my heart' s behest. Rosalind E. Jones in New York Sua. Good LucU. Missionaries and others, who live year after year in foreign countries, are liable to lose something of their familiarity with their na tive tongue, aild sometimes to be troubled about the spelling of very common words. Au English clergyman, who was also a voluminous author, was in Paris, where he made the acquaintance of a kind hearted Scottish nobleman. This man had lived for mauy years at the French capital, and know every one. Tho Englishman quite enjoyed walking with him in tho Champs Ely&ees. Aa tk carriages and coursers raced along the Scotchman was kept continually busy taking off his hat. "You ought to know the ambassador," ha said one day to his new friend. "I will give you a letter of introduction." So tho two men sat down, and tho Scotch man w ent to his writing desk. "Tin in ltnntwn In know." hn cni1 Ti-ifJi j rl .., , .... look of mild inquiry, "how many d's thero ore in tho word introduce!'' The Oxford graduate, curiouly enough, did "happen to know," and so the note of in troduction was written. Youth's Compan ion. A Treatc of Xature. A curious freak of nature was recently dis covered. It i- a slab of Mexican marble about two feet long and a foot wide, bearing j upon its face a beautiful mountain landscape, w inch has in some strange way been pictured there by nature. It is now in the possession of CoL A C. Ilawley, formerly adjutant gen eral of Minnesota, and was given him by Maj, Knappen, who owns tho quarry in New Mexico where this was found. The major is authority for the statement that the picturo in the marblo is the exact reproduction of the scenery-cn the tide of the vailey opposite where the quarry is located. Col. Hawley explains the curiosity in this way: He says the river and chfTs must have been photo graphed on the marble, when it was in a j plastic condition, by the 'rays of tho sun. Exchange. ' A Dylnc Man's Lcsmjti. Wasn't it tunny, by the way, about Pre-1 fessor Younians, of The Popular Science ' hl3 deathand inasted on having hu, teth all attended to ana new ones nut idi Evervbodv knew he couldn't live, and the dentist told him he was having a good deal of pain and trouble for nothing. But the professor intimated pretty strongly it was hi owtx I)Uiine&s and if was fitting to pay IWor havmg good th to bo hud oat in, tne dentist needn't complain. Do you know faow manT u m brdecavmc ...i. t-I '.,r.. .j.er,. ...., ". 1 : ' ,.,- .j,,., !. stant drainage of bad matter from an itapar- 1 feet tc-thr two phia Press. Shu-ley Dare lnPhfladel- ; . A Xew ne for tl;e NlcUel. I I Somebody of an ingenious turn of. mind gives us the raeTic system, "not in a nnt shell,"' but in aniciceL It is claimed that our uiciel five cent ptece holds the key to th , linear measures and eisbta. Tee diM3e: of this coin is two centimeters, aad its -weight five grains. V a P121 ta. iJro,r ; re tMwp. . , awz 7 1 wo ui iD-ea wm wcjh - ucui...iii& ,-v the kiolit- is a cubic raster, the key to the measures of leagtS. it Js al the key to tb measures of capacity. Aoy person, there for, who fes fortunate noa jh to otj a fire rsnt nickel ,ma.r carry in bi p&eket the en tire metric rs:a cf ftiriiti and meum INlSliMNGffil Bj HAKf E. BLAIR. f 18G9I the sake nduced, of, rest and recreation, to take charge of a young American girl during a tour in Europe. This young girl was Miss Helen St. Clair, of Detroit, Mich. We two were by no means strangers. She had been my pupil since the time when sho was the prettiest little creature that ever wore a scarlet hood. I have a little picture, scarlet hood and all, that I would not exchange for the most beautiful one that Greuze ever painted. Not that her face bore any re- l-semblance to the pictures of Greuze. It had neither tho sweet simplicity of the girl in "The Broken Pitcher," nor the sentimental graces which ho bestows on his court beauties. It was an exceeding ly piquant, animated face, never at rest, always kindling, flashing, gleaming, whether with sunlight or lightning. Her movements wero quick and darting, like those of a humming bird. Her enuncia tion, though perfectly distinct, was mar velously rapid. The same quickness characterized her mental operations. Her conclusions, right or wrong, were always instantaneous. Her prompt decisiveness, her talent for mimicry and her witchery of grace and beauty won her a devoted following of school girls, to whom her tastes and opinions were as authoritative as ever were those of Eugenie to the ladies of her court. School girls, like college boys, aro very apt in nicknames, and Helen's was tho "Little Princess," which her pretty, imperious ways made peculiarly appropriate. I do not know how her parents dared trust her to me for a year beyond the sea, but they did. We set oif in high enthu siasm, and Helen was full of mirth and laughter till we were fairly on board the steamer in New York harbor, when sho threw herself on her father's breast with a gesture of utter abandonment that would have made tho fortune of a debutante on any stage in the world. It was so un looked for that wo all broke down, and Mr. St. Clair was strongly inclined to take her home with him. But so sudden was she in all her moods that his foot had scarcely touched the shore before she was again radiant with anticipation. I will not linger on tho pleasant sum mer travel, the Rhine majesty, the Al pine glory. September saw us established in the city of cities Paris. Every where we had met throngs of Ameri cans. Neighbors from over tho wa in i our own city greeted us warmly in most unexpected places. But we had not crossed the ocean merely to see our own countrymen. In Paris wo were deter mined to eschew hotels and pensions and to become the inmates of a French home. Everybody told us this would bo impossible, but I find nothing so stimu lating as the assertion that a thing can't be done. Two weeks of eager inquiry and wo were received into a family which couiu not nave oeen more to our wish if it had been created expressly for us. It was that of M. Le Fort, a profes sor in the medical colle0e, a hand some elderly man with the bit of red ribbon coveted by Frenchmen in his but tonhole. Mme. Lo Fort, a charming, graceful woman midway between 'JO and 30, and a pretty daughter of 17, completed the family. With great sat isfaction wo took possession of the pretty rooms, all white and gold, that over looked the Rond Point des Champs Ely sees. My little princess had found a prince in her own country, and, considering the laws of attraction, his sudden appearance in Paris ought not to have been a sur prise to her. But, to his discomfiture, and even anger, Ilelen refused to see him. She had bidden him good-by at home, she said: thev would not be mar- ried for three- years, if they ever were; j she was going to devote herself to her j music; and sue uiu not wisn to see mm here. When he had completed his stud ies and their engagement was announced (it was onlv a mutua; understanding now) thero would be time enough to see ! each other at home. Excellent reason- I imr! but a fortnight later a tiny hand slipped between my eyes and The Fig- j aro a little note on which I read: "Dear Friend I think I should like to say good-by again. "Yours, Helen." The dark eyes looked half shyly, half coaxingly into mine. "Well," said I, "Katrine will mail it for you." The next day I saw for the first time Mr. Frederic Denliam. He was tall and slpndpr. with a sallow comolexion. rath er dull grav eyes and black hair, by no means handsome, but sufficiently well j looking to please a friendly eye. Tn hit manners there was a coklnes3 and serve which passed for haughtine;. re- j He 1 was said to xossess great talents and am bition, and Helen had the fullest belief in his genius and success. Not Goetho j himself was a greater man in her eyes. I liad frsouent oDPortunitifes of sfling them together, for. according to French ideas, nothing Is more improper than to leave a young man and woman a mo- j ment by themselves. Was it my fancy that he seemed too much absorbed in ' himself, too little sensible of the rare trood fortune which made him the fa- Tored lover of the beautiful 31U St. Clair.' It might foe so, bur others snarea it. "What ails the American? aefced Mme. ! Fort. "Is it possible that h- is notin love with that fascinating young creature? Or are all your countryman so cold and inanimate? Eile est ravis sante, adorable! I cannot comprehend it." "Probably,'" I replied, "he hts too much reserve and delicacy to make a display of his feelings in the prsance of strangers." But I was not sackfk-d. The more I watched thm, the more I psroeired a lack of deference to her opinions and re spect for her judgment an irritatlnpr aHim prion of superior wudoai, aa If h J bad worn tho vkible icsenptfon. I wili 't Off accept homage, but not suggestions. Offer incense and be content." Would the little princess be content? I saw symptoms of rebellion. "Do you think I am a little fool, Mme. Fleming?" she asked with "heightened color and impetuous tone, turning sud denly to me whilo they were conversing apart one evening. November came, and we wero launch ed on the full tide of Parisian society. Mr. Denham had gono to Germany to complete certain scientific studies, and he left his fair betrothed with a parting injunction not to dance with any for eigner. As well shut her up in a cell! Nowhere is there such a furore for danc ing as in Paris. Every family has its weekly reception, and every card of in vitation bears in the corner, "On dan sera." These receptions are tho freest and gayest imaginable. Any person who has the entree of tho house comes when he feels inclined. Introductions are not indispensable as with us; any gentleman may ask & lady to dance with htm, whether he has been formally presented or not, and it would be an affront to de cline except for a previous engagement. The company assemble about 10, and often dance till 8 or 4 in tho morning. In any one house we see nearly the same people onco a week for the whole win ter, and such frequent companionship gives a feeling of intimacy. It is sur prising now many trench men and French women have some special artis tic talent, dramatic or musical, and with what ready good humor each contributes to the entertainment of the rest. In every assembly, with all its sparkle of youth and gayety, there is a background of mature age: but though a card room is generally open, it never seems to draw many from tho salons de danse. In these salons the little princess en tered at once upon her royalty. Her dancing was the poetry of motion. She sang, and the most brilliant men hung over her enraptured. "Sho was like Adeliua PattI " they said, "but of a moro perfect and delicate typo of beauty. What wonderful eyes, with tho long thick lashes, veiling Oriental depths of liquid light! How the miiaic trickled from her fingers and poured from her small throat like the delicious warble of a nightingale! What a loss to art that her position precluded her from singing in the opera! Not Malibran or Grisi ever had triumphs that would equal hers." Eminent painters wished to make a study of her face. Authors who had received the prizes of the Academy for grave historical woks 6ent ber adulatory verses. "May I flirtation will you loavcly meess?" asked ono of "the im mortal forty," displaying his English. It grew rather annoying. I was im portuned with questions, such as: "Will you receive proposals of marriage for Miss St. Clair?" "What is her dowry?" "Are you intrusted to find a husband for her abroad?" I was tired of answer ing, "Miss St. Clair will probably marry in her own country." "Her parents would be very reluctant to consent' to any foreign marriage." "I cannot tell what Mr. St. Clair will give his daughter. It is not the custom to give dowries with us, as with you. One evening we saw at Mme. Le Fort's reception a young man so distinguished in appearance that ho was known as "lo beau Vergniaud." He was six foot in height and well made, with abundant chestnut hair, dark hazel eyes, clearly cut, regular features and a complexion needlessly fine for a man. From that time he was invariably present, not only at Mme. Lo Fort's, but wherever we went. One day Helen said to me, "I made a silly speech last evening. I was dancing with M. Vergniaud anu we were talkiuj of that charming Mme. do Lauimy. I 6aid, 'I should think; sue might be nappy, having an elegant house in Paris, a cha teau in the country, and such a hand some husband so devoted to her.' And he rejoined instantly, very low, My dear Miss St. Clair, can I not givo you all this?' It was not fair to take advantage of me in that way." "What did you say?" "Oh, I laughed it off. I did not think he was in earnest, but he spoko to me again before ho went away." That afternoon Mme. Lo Fort came into my room with the look of ono who j has something important to communi cate. "I have been wishing to see you," she said. "M. Vergniaud lias taken me into his confidence. He has formed a serious attachment to Mis St. Clair, and wishes to make her his wife. It is a splendid alliance," she continued, warni- lntr with her theme: "if he hnd nuked for my daughter I would give hf r to him j blindfold. He belongs to 0115 of our old families. You should wee his hoiibo on the Avenue do Montaigne. Have you never soon him driving with hi3 superb horses in the Boi3 do Boulogne? He has an estate with a fine old chateau in Touraine, a family inhuritanca. Hi character and habits aro unexcoptioa- ble, too." she addwl by way of jmrenthe sis. -,it is not 01 ten tliat in a man of 2G. that you thul ail So handsome be- sides!'' Tmp" uii I. "but von fnrcot Mr. I Denham." " 1 "On the contrarv, I remember him too well to conceive the possibility of life j being a rival to Rene Vergniaud." "But did you mention him to M. Vergniaud?" "Yes. and he was greatly disturbed at fi"U but when I told him that h had no expectation of marryins; for two orthr years to come, ne laiigneu ami haiu 11 'aj of no importance. M. Vorj;niaiid would like to be married in a few weeh, as is the custom with uv but T mr' it will take longer to adjust tho proiimi nanes on account of her parent being vcross the Atlantic What dowry ho sny littlo jewel?" (The inevitable que5 rion, always put with as much simplicity ind directness an if ono were asking the jme of day.) "I do not know" I replied. "It is k contrary to all our notion. I do not . think there is a man in .America who in isktng a father for th hand of bi daughter would inquire how much mon ey he was to hav& with br. be considered an malt." It woeM j j "Perhaps 3Ir. St. Clair wgaW prefer to fettle an annuity on h dawgJsfcsr. 1& that the way the thing is managed ia your country?"' "It is not managed si alL A man givps his daughter what he likes, or he gives her nothing but hr bridal outai. It Jj never a condition of the marriage. "Kow strange all that hi On can hardly bdieve it in France. We jt by a sum of money for Clarico'sdowrralcioet as oon as he was born. a4 it woM be a ban! n&coftstty that could compel us to I diminish it by a siagfct sou. If you would j ltfc ft. in a oeaple of deja I oan girt y I aa exact inventory of aB M. Vtrgnh.ud's property and possessions. I coulcl gaa anteo that it will not vary twenty napo leons from, tho fact. Wo do everything so systematically here." "Thanks! I think it will hardly bt necessary. I do not know that Helea likes him particularly;,, "Nobody admires that little paragon moro than I I should he frantically ia love with her if I were a man but ha had beter think twice before rejecting such a parti as Rene Vergniaud, espe cially if she has no dowry. You will surely not permit her to do so without communicating with her father? He will understand her interests better." "In this case I shall let her do just M she pleases, &3 her father would if ho were here." Essssafc. "J shall Ut her dojHst as she pleas." Mme. Lo Fort's look of atuazed in credulity w as truly comical. What ought I to do? I queried. On tho whole, I de cided to do the easiest thing wait. The next day I was honored with a call from M. Vergniaud. Ho believed that Mme. Lo Fort liad spoken to mo ot his profound attachment to the lovely Miss St. Clair tho most passionate, the most devoted. Might ho hope for my influenco with her father and mother? Tho matter of dowry was indifferent to him: his income was sutliciently large, and, alas! ho had no parents to consult. Would I favor him with Mr. St. Clair'a address and a few words of introduction to him? He should be under everlasting obligations to me, and if there was any thing he cculd do to show his gratitude, his appreciation I interrupted these protestations: "I doubt if Mr. St. Clair would consent to any marriage which would separate him from his daughter, however advantage ous it might bt in other respect." "My dear madame, who asks it? I havo no business or profession; wo could easily spend a part of every year in Amer ica if it wero desirable." "That would certainly make it easier, but it will bo letter to defer writing till I wo havo some intimation of Miss St. . Clair's sentiments. Her father will bo ! guided chiefly by hor inclination." ! "It is a nice country for young girls, ! America,"' said he with a trniile. "I shall j do all that is possible to win Miss St. j Clair's favor, for life would be worthless without her." And he bowed himself gracefully out. Is it possible that Ilelon will bo indif- ! fercnt to this young Antinout.' thought I. Poor Mr. Dnhnm would have email chance with me if I wero in her place. An hour later the concierge sent up to me an exquisite bouquet of violets aud white caaiflhus, with tlw card of Rune Vergniaud and a folded note: "If .Mme. Fleming tloos not think it improper, will she be so kind as to givo thcbe flower to my beautiful queonr" M. Vergniaud had asked Mme. Le Fort's (eruiiasion to call on Mi& St. Clair. "Certainly not," she replied. "I am astounded at such presumption! But you may call to sou ma. To-morrow even inp: wuiro to the opera, and Wednesday i to Mme. PuriwX and Thurstiav is my reception, and rnuay we have tiokots to "Phodre" at the Francaih. Saturday, then; it is the first ovoning we havo free." We wero all assembled in the Falon aa usual after dinner, when M. Vergniaud was announced. The littlo princoM wiw radiant. Sho hnd novor been merrier in a school girl frolic or more ready with gibe and jest and laiighu.tr. Shy suntt her beat songs, putting hor whole fotil into them "Si tu savaia comme jo nime. Rone vorgmaud was ro dnzinl tjmt ho came nour bidding farowoll to his tunaes forever. II pvuluntly thought that all thia brilliancy wan for him, and was in such a rapturo of delight that lie never noticed Mine. Lo Fort'f rupealed glances at thu clock, and wan only routed by the polite invitation to como again. He wan not too diaconcurtod to make a chnrutiiiK apology, likw a tmo Parisian, aml tore htnitelf .' Late an it was. 1 away. h toou an wo woro In our own little parlor I could not forbjar Baying: "Iwa aurprfoMi at you to-night. Helen. How could you run on so? Mme Le Turc therr. too! and you know thi youitfc French iHrls nvr opoa thoir lipa to aoy moro than Oui. mondcur' 'Non. iwttwiir.' to a gntl'jmnn. What will M. Vrgntaid ihiokT . Cl,1! " what he thinks." fliagiosr ber&eir dow-? on an ottoman wicn in-r head in ray lap; "but I do jarj what von think. Mms. Fleming. DkI I Ur- ''ftv bo very bndly? I didn't wc.mi U; tat I wan rwolvod ho nhoukl not get a chance to Uiik any oonmat-i to-clght and he dwl, after alL I hate bing mado s love to before a whole roomfuL I had j to laagh or ehm err.7 And tho lib j fairy dwaoivwi m a bowr of tyars, like ! another Undin. Another wk wnt by. On Safcordaj ' afternoon Ilekui Jktil: "Will you bo so I kind as to tak me to the httlo Protest ant church beyond the Aro d'Etoile thhi yvemiip. Mine. Fleming? 1 should like j so utoob to ber tlat good M. lircter? "So nh'MUl U But you liar cot tor i gotten thai M. Ysrgniood will b )uti." "I atn uader no obltatiooj to eaUrr tam Mai. Lv Fort's tailors." "Pot yoo know, Helen, that ho com j for yocur tsds. H is well far you to on- woer tftr. um future Mint-L Vrzkiud wii! haT m soro rsp-cta a mor brill- mv jwnuoa itaa prapa suxy tn&n In our country cooid ofter you." I kijow all that, aad I ilftn't nrnLnnA to say that I should not Hk it. 1 am ashamed of fearac m or Id Jr. but t have a mptrb Ub!ishia43t axuj si this charming Pritan boowrtr, and giTe a grand SjrH -vcfomerer I Hkcxi. w&uld L- j0i paradisft. And Jo have It all In my grasp, and not b &bU to lake it, i too sggrawstMtjf. U L o rtsxmitom that th right man rrr bs th right thmgs." W went to church. M. Vcrgnlsad call!, bet recollect an tfiigagsnt which teok him away early. Monday evening h dropped la again junt ultr? dtann "Do not let n? derxo rott in the !& je tw on ori. taadam I eosse early fcaaatii am xtsml to tore ' bfls to-ckt.p iffefc Be CSafr couW hardly bxvc betrn 11 W.V--3S '' v V &&? wtfji&y J4Ttitfjr . -, jr dS&JAsQe rf st!!r'-;'S.-ii. V-,'