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'Ts green spot in your desert. b Tch ad T sprung fromiyour ill Yar be rich sad npoor nlted, Ta mo' st gmand in Heaven's sight, And a blesaig, notorLi'eo blessing, Is on all the world to-niht I BY CAYAIlE. Irontinued from last week.] "Queer weather, sir," observed the mil itary gentleman. "The climate is positively ontemptible--sa regular flirt-is constant t nothing except change. There; 'tii sno*to -I as it- was variable enough. "Bight, sir," he replied, "' as- dare say -you always are. In fact there's nothing butlehabge. To-day our facings are.sky blue turned up with orange ; to-morrow, pepper-and-salt andl'thunder. For my part la prepared for any change. Wouldn't se nrrsed-to-morow if people took to w~nilkh on their heads, for the sake of Q- uite possible, sir." J Well, Scarcely," observed Kate; "peo 1b yon know, papa, can never walk on theol' ih as iaet's plain ; is it not I" S'ru're always right, my deari and I admit I was guilty of a little exaggeration ' 'looking forward to such a probabillty Sat. cangeg air, ohnge is the motto of the teolb, loer Ironi -or-Mr.- O'Connell, I forgqitwhleh, remirked at one time. I re member Kate, when tou used to cry for a bi of the moon,has a alice of sweetmeat. Bias me, look at the edfet of change. My aigberir alda-noon think of going without her o en " -Kate's white hand was to his mouth be ~,rhe conld finish the word. "Hush," she said-with-a quiet-smile, "you must not.L " erfectly right, my dear," said the old tleman, "as you always are. lfy the by, I shall state the fact publiclyn hen we get to Southbank." " re urious. Could this bet Wen we get to Soutlbank," continued the old tleman, "LI shall san -Ladiea and gentiema smile at a parent a partial ity it you choose--but that parent is in a position to assert that his danglhter is always right. She goQover her measles and" whooping-eough righo-u she cut her teeth, she grew her hair right;` fse " " Papa," remonstrated Kate, " you surely do not mean to sap anything likethis. What would people think of you t Now, If I thought you would make this silly speech, I would leave the coach and would walk back to L-----; I would." "Box my ears darling," said her father, with a merry giance..under Kate's hood. " You're right again. No, I retract; you're wrong this time. Ladies and gentleman, [admit with mortiflcation, that this lady, my daughter, erred ice." And he ended the sentence with a vigorous stroke of his stick on the bottom of the coach. Kate laughed at the moment. Then as naming as.appearnceof moek gravity and oaexingly taking the old gentleman's hand between hIr own she asked--" Did it err, dear) Did it err I" yoTe. The ased, oeo merrily ; and, ~ l I not hea g the gentle n-tur' es.o -It Ie," yhe nd, the o der at- i many yeis ago I ha seen. wa to the and Fid %q~ the wayboughs of in wih theof gold laden f e and bronzedil ern. I hoave sine not heritate tohe fauty to that peTulanr on active, anod genthe othertorpid. -Bt I felt tes fonvinced then t thi at bsm ad be Fds her benatingfulrend, and my hear warmed o The timeeng was far advaned rilywhen we bring me to the house somthe conversation, Ithe coach ould adrive at the gentle naatre It would be s a capithal joke, I teehough at to take l~ ~u lov ly ue. was aguelys impressed it mped o thione coachat many years ago I 'bad seen Kate and Fid walking together in an orchard, between the bougha of which came glintings of gold en from the and bronedcorn. I have sincluggage attribted the fnstrodey to that peculiar cone ditien of the brain in which one lobI ha active, and the othber torpid. But I felt convinced then, that he must befanci Fid's fascinating friend, and my heart warmed to her insensibly. The evening was far advanced when we got near Septhbank. I knew a familiar pathlevelway througof the chimneelds which would clerng me tothe house some minutes before the froach could arrive at the end of walte. It would he snch a capital joke, I thought, when about a quarter of a mile distant from the gate, and flinging mpanelluggage across my sornamoulder, strode gaily across the sining in alless thanhe ffteen mshadowintes ofha arrived in front of Southbank cottage. The grouud gables, , shinng - fanciful frost thor, shot up len being and abrpt from the levelof the roofs the chimney, pluand sied with fanetastic smoke -wreaths, stood outbil clearsaddistinct in their marvellous white ness, from the black background of walnut trees at the rear. Tothe right of the heavbriy door-way, rich with antique pannelling and grotesque- ornaments, was the Blue cham ber; to the right the Green. Lights were shining in all the windows the shadows of those withinu being delicately etched on the blinds. The hall-door was ajar, and a sin gle lasn'pddilssed sflood of brlihiangy aroun d the hail. With my heart beating bridal marches, I ascended the steps. As I stood upon the. threshold,; I aw a pale, melan choly-faced young man, of about twenty five years of age, leaning with an air of elenut indolence against the folding-doors which divided the hall from the louse. He was not to say well dressed; but as refine me-rr can impart grace torags, so his fine tigaire and noble countenance, lighted up wilt the darkest of dark eyes,- diverted attention from his dress to himself. Sceing umo he he started; became intensely pale, raised himself to his full height, and gazed at me with an air of blended pity and defiance. As we stood facing each other in wondering silence, the door of the Green chamber opened, and Lucy stepped into the hall. " Dear Mr.-," she said, with a quiver in her voice, to my compIanion, " you must be miserable. Would that we could con trive to make your stay with us happier." " I am very happy-very contented, Miss Davis," said the pale gentlemanu, and he stared at me. ' 'our kindness prompts you to say so," replied Lucy. " Oh, Ihave been so miserable thinking o you." The pale gentleman bowed, gratefully, I thought. "Miss -'Davis," he said, with a languid smile," is unjuat. She must not confine her attention to one friend alone," and waving his hand at me, he stepped into the Blue chambe-. Lucy turned round; the blood rushing into her face and tem ples. " Richard I" " Miss Davis." " Oh, Richard !" "No explanations, pray, Miss Davis. t s' readily wed the ease. elimnaly instincts obakdt" dbe asked, nit hands to her S d "aiod, " you have res*o y esteem. Society i g&t-te;, wish me to violate "C . - d)ttl nore ounfortunate t" she' sobbed "sthIng more inoppor tune" . "Pr Mdoa's distress yourself," I ob servý with a very "Ald attempt at a sneer. " Mistakes will hppen, but a lady seldom fails to proft by her eXperience. You shall be more foristute next time, Miss Davis." Pne ae gliu tie and she passed into the followed her with a admit," she said, "you have fair rea son to think that--" " Wouldn't Miss Davis," I interrupted "point her, remarks with a quotation T 'Trifles light as air,' for instance. The con -et, I presume, is obvious." -ucy,- while her head drooped over her hands, " the world is making sad havoc with your nature. One little year ago, and no pain, no disap pointment however bitter no--" " Miss bavis," I exclaimed quickly, "pardon me, I complain neither of pain nordisappointment. I understood that we were engaged in a discussion on the princi plea of Taste. Pray, judge the question on its merit." " No wrong," she continued, not heeding the interrnption, "could wring these bitter words from you. Perhaps, I deserve them. But if you only knew the truth you would not blame but pity me." And the pathos of her voice went straight to my heart. " Lucy I" "' Dear Richard !" " Lucy, we are, every one of us, day after.lay, the victim of delusions. We tfancy that- we love-that we hate, and it •frequently happens that our loves and hates prove deceptions. I may be deceiving my self and wronging yon--f so, God forgive me; yet, how shall we explain away cir cnmstaneest I am convinced of your en tire truthfulness. Tell me, like a brave, pure-hearted woman, have I been deceived in thinking that yon-you love this man t" " Oh, Richard, she said, " go deceived! I am in agony because I cannot tell you all -because I cannot show yea-how-wrong- how cruel you are. A few days and all will be clear; until then suspend your judg ment and believe in me." " I will, dearest. It would break my heart if I thought---" " Then, you must not think it," she said compassionately. " If the whole world spoke ill of you I would not believe it as long as you denied its-accusation. A little time, Richard, and you will not repent your patience." " And you will forget all this, Lucy you will forgive nme 1" " What could I not forgive you 1" she said tenderly. "Only one thing-I could not pardon you if you despised me. Here are our visitors," she exclaimed, releasing herself from miy arms. "Ir hear Major Whitley's voice in the hall." She went out and returned in a moment, leading in my friiends of the stage coach. Kate had divested herself of her long cloak, and I had a full view of her exquisitely rounded and faultless figure. " I have had tihe pleasure of meeting Major and Miss Whitley before," I said, when Lucy had in troduced us. "Right, sir; alway , right," exclaimed the Mqjor, shaking my hand. " Only think of that confounded coachman mistaking the gate in the darkness, and driving Kate and myself half a mile below it." "What a monster he must be," said Lucy, who had wound her arm around Miss Whitley's waist, "to take my poor Kate so far away in the cold ;" and the girls em braced each other affectionately. "Is that right, sir i" asked the major, winking slyly at me. " Only think of the bees laying an embargo on honey, ha, ha I" "I trust," I said, " the bees will be char itable in good time." At those observations the gls reddened y, and directly fell into a profound diseussion of winter seeds, until the door opened, and a "young gentleman, in a fur overcoat, bounded into the room. "Dear Dick." U" h,youglorious old Fid.' He absolutely hugged me, reached his hand to Lucy, and then shook Kate's with a tenderness which I thought, to may the least, peculiar. . The major looked on in silence, and would have continued to look longer, bad not the entrance of our host Mr. Davis, ilspended his sp~ect~ltions. lTh fine old gentleman walked gravely in, his bald head glittering in the light of the chandeliers, and said such queer things, and administer ed suech heay shake hands, and bade us all be at home with such comical sobriety of voice, that every one laughed, and .and laughed again, .the thing was sq good, It was ten o'clock. The ladies had long retired to the'drawiug-room ; and I, having recovered my temper, and being more than ever in love with Lucy, sat smoking and chatting with Fid. He had told me that he was in a fair way to conquer life, and win his way to honorable eminence; and as I congratulated the dear fellow, he suddenly placed his hand in mine. "Now, Dick," he said, "for a secret." "A secret, Fid !" " Yes, Dick, a secret I! it's all settled-or as good." " That is," I said hesitatingly, " Biss Whitley and---" "Hush ! yes. I asked her this evening I didn't do it in a roundabout way, Dick if she would consent to share the fortunes of a poor man who loved her. ' If he were to love me truly,' she saidI could refuse him nothing.' 'And if I loved you, Miss Whitley-dear, dear Kate, if my whole life, asit does, depended on one little word, could you refuse itt I know I am very poor and very u ly; but I have a true heart, Kate, and if you don't have it, no one else shall.' Kate hung her head. for a moment. ' Can you lease your heart,' she asked, ' and for how long ' 'If you take it, dear,' I said, 'for ever and ever-is it worth taking ?' She whispered-' Indeed it .is,' and the matter was settled." . I congratulated Fid on his success; and, feeling warm, strolled out into the open air. For a moment I stood on the door steps, musing. The centre of the house was deeply: recessed in the projecting wings, and its shadow was accurately de fined on the crisp sward of the lawn. The night was cold and brilliant. The stars glittered keenly in the frosty skies, and the full roundd moon of Christmas seemed to rest on thi tree-tops, -sprinkling the tur h!peath with dreamy, palpitating sa o--ws, and throwing into vivid relief the white fountain and colossal bust which or namented a part of the grounds. Turning to the left wing, my eyes rested on the em bayed windows of the Bleo chambes A shutter was left open, and through the unclosed space I could distinctly see the pale young man, whom I had encountered in the hall, sitting at a table, and writing with marellous rapidity. Blefore him lay a large portfolio, in which he placed several documents wit a cer Tffi nervous anxiety, which ilade the half anxiotus to learn theiir contents. it was Ihe; his hi-ir was thrownv back in one black sweep fromt a lofty well defined forehead, wrinkled, I thought, by premature care ; no one coulltl gaze cn those massive, clearly, coldly-emit features, with out a sense ofadmiration. lie was evident ly uneasy, and turned his face several times in the direction in which I stood; but I could not resist the fascination which ,Oundil ime to the spot, and I continued to watch him. Having sealed a letter with singular care, he leaint back, drew a long breath, and gazed vacantly at the ceiling. Then, with an airdf exhaustion he quenched one- of theirandles, and left the room. Through the side light I saw him ascend tihe stairs, and mount, as I surmised, to the bedroom range. lie had scarcely passed the top of the flight when Lucy, with a lighted taper in her hand, came down into the hall. She paused for a moment before the door of the Green room, in Lich Fid and I had been sittina.* ascertaided that the lock was secure; and then laying down the taper, "passed into the Blue chamber. My eyes followed her most mechanically. The Blue chamber extended from the rear to the front of the house. The. moolght, streamig in through the wi dowt e of the b tac upa n the balac ot k fu nitue angtsnglt~W Itsend hadows et'Heir somre angles, an glelg m, sUsat-.r pool on the centre of the wt bsa itt rolled, with a great sweep' E. Iteng darknes, under the shadows cast by the walls of .the room. The casements were marked in diamond parquetries across the carpet; and I could distinctly observe the gray shimmer of the mantel-piece, and shy gleam of brackets and mirrors through the twilight of the apartment. The table, at which the pale young man had been writing, stood in the middle of the floor, thickly lit tered with papers. My heartbeat violently. As sure as the Heavens are above me, that is Lucy ! She steals noiselessly into the room, her white dress rendered still whiter bycontrast with the dark furniture under the luminous ,lnfluenco of the moonlight. She approaches the table, frequently paus ing, with bowed head, to catch the soundef footsteps. She takes a letter from her bosom. kItsee it, andplanes 'ae.port folio. Atiother moment, and she is gone! Sick of heart, and dizzy of brain,- I reeled back against the wall. I fancied the stars shot out long trains offire, which hurtled in myriad sparks across the Heavens; the moon suddenlyopened, dischargingashow er of tiny areolites; the trees quivered to their roots, the lawn heaved and sunk again; and, then, camea blank insensibility. (Concluded next week.) FATHREB xARE' BULLFINCH. Others may undertake the histories of groeat nations; the biographies of illustrious men; they may write of Ancient Egyptian Dynasties; of the memorable deeds of Cyrus, of Alexander, or of Ciesar; be mine an humbler theme, the story of my neighbor's bullfinch. Spring was the sweet name bestowed upon my hero, because hia .ively -soat--eectto breathe of woods, flowers, snns hine, and of everything that announces the approach of the fairest of seasons. Yesterday his cage was under my balcony, suspended from the window of the poor tailor whose pride and Joy it was. " This is my child," said Father Mac~rk, show ing me the bird with one of those smiles so nearly allied to tears. For he once had another child,,a little daughter, who now reposes in the silent cem etery. I heard the harsh noise of the nails as they were driven in her littiseoofiu; I saw her father following her to thegrave, his uncovered head bowed low with grief; tlnmr reume his place at the bench before the open window, between the two pots of withered gillyflowers. He was always industrious, always courteons. If I chanced to meet him on the stairs he would stop aside5 saluting me with: " Is monsieur well T Monsieur mast be care ful in walking, the stairs have just been waxed; or it isiing to rain; Motniieur would-do well - to take his iumbrdlll". "lit' tnothing mdre ; no - more songs or laughter were heard in his deer olate home. .. One morning, I was at the windlow looking into the yard; Father Mark went out, his piece ofdry bread under his arm ; he was oing as usual to the grocer's to purchase a half-pennoy' worth ofcheese fot his breakfast. Alittle leas. ant boy was standing at the gateway with a bird's nest in his bhad. lie had sold, one after another, the three l etti.,-t I,ilds; onlly one remina:edl and it lo,ked si disl lltuted, so shivering, tha:t those whi, examinedit turnedl awy', .sin. ln,, ' It's goilig to die." Mark iii his turn apiproach.eL Ido not know what the poir ldesolat-looking nest or the ,mlumelcess orphan could have said tomy neigh Lor; but I haw him sli , the price of his Ireak fast ,into the peasant si lnuld, and the two forlorn cre:it urea disaipear'ed, together. Severat.1 l days passed; I thoaght no niore of the Iird u1 ntil one morning, walkinig nit on my haicn.y, I hearsd a chirping rather fecl,le, but so merry that I loaned over to discuver the anlthor of it. Father lMark wai at hi-u window, iimaking a nest for the Iid of his left hand and feeding him with the right. On perceiving mei, he ex·ucused himself for not hieing able to remove, his hut. "Canl that be the bird 1 saw the other day I" I asked in astojihnisment. "It is," replied the tailor; "thank God, I have nome hIolu.ns that it will lives" - And the little tiedgling became more lively every day; by degrees, his songs diffused new joy in the lonely dwelling. Father Mark was both the preceptor and the friend of his bird, which, at the very sound of his voice, would Slap his wings, run to the sides of the cage and thrust his head through the bars. The bird had now become the wonder of the (Continued eo Eighth Plas.