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some of the butterfly friends of her girlhood, who offered their condolences and informed Melicent that she was looking like a ghost. Of heartfelt sympathy and kindly help she received none. Her constant attendance on her father was lightened only by the assistance of a servant. Other troubles caine upon her. She found that her father was a bankrupt. He had risked and lost his fortune in large speculations, and his establishment had been kept up for some time past upon borrowed money. That had now to be repaid, with heavy interest. He had intended to do this and to reinstate himself by his marriage with the rich Mrs. Delaven. Melicent learned from her father's lawyer that there was nothing to be done—that the house, furniture, plate, everything, must go. An inven tory was taken, the property was advertised to be sold, and the day appointed for the sale to take place. The servants belonging to the house hold all went save a single, faithful old retainer. Melicent was permitted to occupy two rooms of the house until her father w as able to be removed. Removed where ? The question, which but vaguely occurred at first to her numbed and be wildered mind, now pressed itself upon her more distinctly as the days went by and the time drew near when she would be forced to leave. Yet no one came to offer even a tempo rary home to the helpless man and the delicate woman. What should she do? She had sent all the money which she had in her possession, which was only a huridred-dollar bill, in a letter to old Hagar, in which she entreated her to en gage a lawyer to defend Neil. She made no explanation, except that she was interested in the case of “Ishmael” because of her friend ship for Manch. This was the best she could do. There was no other person in Alluvia of whom she was willing to make such a request. She ' [For The Sunny South.] JK SOFIA* A. BT CHARLES W. HT BNEB. A mighty Oak, uprooted by the storm, Down the broad current of a stream was borne, Along whose banks a shining multitude Of serried reeds in lithesome beauty stood. ‘Ah!” said the Oak, “is it not strange that I, So strong and grand in monarch majesty, Must perish in my power: and ye, so frail, Cnharm’d may front the lightning and the gale ?” Whereon a Reed made murmurous reply: • We bow our heads when whirling storms are nigh, As though we felt the zephyr’s softest kiss— Living and prosp’ring thus by gentleness; But ye, that blindly brave the tempest's wrath. Are smitten in your pride, and suiter death.” people {ot familiarity. I have known many ladies ties—any heiresses ?’ and they passed in to the refuse to waltz with strangers. We had taken office. our seats after a quadrille, when she dropped "Next day letters came, forwarded from Bos- w v her handkerchief. As I bent to restore it to her, ton. There was one from Florence—along, tender Reader, entre nous, whenever I hear a man or that peculiar perfume with which I had met but letter, full of avowals of constancy, but stating woman either talk in that way, I am convinced once before in my life greeted me. For an in- that they were in New York, and would, on the ded to his idols; mine are money, ease, luxury. No picture of domestic joy with smiling wife and happy home can tempt me now /” and the man of the world laughed sarcastically. [For The Sunny South.] ’ The Lace handkerchief; to move out of the depot in the city of Boston. The good-byes had been given; happy, merry voices had laughed a gay au re voir to friends who had now noresourcebut her jewelry. 1 which she j would soon return = choking sobs had been the had already deposited at a pawn-broker’s office, only farewell which loved ones were able to offer two women being in love with each other and exchanging tender letters — decidedly vealy ? But those boyish experiences have existed since the days of Eden and will, I guess, until 'the millenium. Since you surmise that I [have —or,— : been unfairly dealt with by some gentle lady . /, v r i Y’C fiAYt’T t fair, I'll tell you a story—a mere bit of romance, A W (J 31A A ( ( J A O 1 A ' C 1 - nearly forgotten now, which, you will admit, gives me reason to doubt if not to deny con- stancy in woman. ’Twill while away the time if I do not vindicate my charge. “Immediately after I graduated, my uncle insisted on my going abroad before settling On a bright though cold afternoon in Febru- down to the practice of my profession. Three 185—, a southward bound train was ready months were spent in the British Isles. Letters descriptive of historic scenes and of life in Lon don you received. We then went to the conti nent; visited Paris, participated in its gayeties, and possibly its follies; went into the German States, to the springs and baths; sailed on the blue Rhine and were not enchanted by its BY HULDAH HILL. ’Tis true; there’s music in the web of it.—Othello. ary those starting on long journeys. The merchant had removed his overcoat, drawn his traveling cap low down on his brow and was already cal culating the probable “success of this trip.” One passenger, a handsome man, appparently about thirty years of age, well-dressed and un- and had drawn upon it the money now being consumed in food, medicine, physician’s attend ance, and numerous other “el Clients” of neces sary expenditure. It was the day before the one appointed for the sale of the house and furniture a dark and dreary afternoon, with ruin blurring the gloomy prospect of dripping eaves, muddy streets, and . forlorn-looking passers. Melicent and her father mistakably a gentleman of leisure, was gazing sat around the dull tire that the chilliness of the j around and seemingly philosophizing on the afternoon made necessary. The invalid was occu- j various scenes—just as you and I have done, pied in making some calculation that seemed to , , , • have come into his enfeebled mind, for he reader, m a crowded car. His musmgs were in- counted his fingers over and over and moved terrupted by a pleasant voice, his lips as if reckoning numbers. Melicent was | “Is this seat taken, sir?” engaged in sewing, but her thoughts were not | “No, sir,” and he accommodated himself to upon the work her hands executed. They were j less space. As the new-comer sat down the two busy revolving the changes and cruelties of her | gentlemen caught each other’s eye. Instantly lot; they were looking earnestly forward to dis- i their hands were clasped, and “Can it be possi- cover some ray of hope. She had not heard ble?” said the first, and “Frank, my old chum, from her Western home except through the two i what good fortune directed me here?” said the letters she had received from Manch; very short ! second. and concise they were, for the writing of them i “Where are you going, Al.? What are you had been a herculean task to the boy. In the doing? Come, my boy, tell me all about your last one he had told her that the trial of Ishmael “would come off next Monday.” “It is then over by this time,” thought Meli cent. “Oh ! if I could know the result!” She feared the worst. She knew that Colonel tore seemed to think with me for he made an- and placed it in her hand. Other suitors com- kept in ignorance of their destination by her swer’ to bTs frien.l i little speech mg up to claim her for the dance aroused me tyrannical father, but she was sure it would be .. from my stupor, and awkwardlv bowing, I went but a six months’ tour, and next winter she • f a i, j reniomb ,• el r . V " out on the balcony to plan my course of action: would again be in New Orleans, when she would tl rPTitlM- ev -o' nl 1 < ,!!if tor I determined to know whether my little pay- defy parental authority. She bade me be pa- , e ' , 1 , D , V , , s l - ,, ’A sanne was the rightful owner of the handkerchief tient,—to trust her as she did me, but not dare to a ' s ’ ' f ;i, rr nvkpfl ‘Cotion ^ had long and jealously guarded. At twelve I write to her, as every letter passed through her eyes and impro ise sonnet to a Golden 0 ' c q 0c ^ tbe ] a j[ es WO uld change their costumes father's hands. I would have followed on the in ^- 0 ’ , , , , , for evening dress, then mv charmer would be 1 next steamer, but a business matter compelled • Yes, and ot course jou remember a platonic recogll j za p7i e . So I returned to the salon to risk mv presence at home in the fall; and knowing attachment for a cousin a dozen years my senior. ber §• leasure bv bol(ilv relatin tbe tindingof nothing of the tour thev would take, it would Do you know, Al., those affairs are to me like the ban akerchief'by me, and telling her why I have been next to impossible to find them, by ll11 ' thought she was the loser. But. to my dismay, description, among the throng of Americans many ladies had left the salon and the gentlemen abroad at that season. So the summer was had removed their dominoes. What should I spent at springs and the seashore. Three let- do ? Immediately the ladies began to return, ters reached me from Florence, all bearing the Singular that on this occasion they had agreed same vow of constancy and cautioning me not to retain their assumed characters, minus the to write to her; she employed her cunning masks, for the rest of the ball! I sought my French maid to carry hers to the post, littlepaysanne. She was the centre of an admir- “Before our Northern winter had fairly set in ing crowd. Half the gentlemen were pressing I was again at the St. Charles, and noting the forward to offer a word of welcome or to gain a coming of guests more eagerly than the propri- srnile of recognition. In short, she was Miss etor. Many of the last season's friends were De Fleur ! - the owner of the lovely face that had again around me, and the gayeties were at full kept me its slave for five years! Dare I enter tide. Miss De Fleur’s name was often men- the lists for the heart of this beautiful woman tinned and her absence regretted, while I bore the recipient of the adulation of a multitude of all the teasing that my having ‘been refused by sworn lovers ? My heart failed me, my vanity her' naturally drew down on me, for all believed, forsook me, my fortune seemed a mere bagatelle ! of course, that I had been rejected! Soon a I secured an introduction and permission to call report was circulated, and generally credited, before the fete ended.. t that Florence would remain abroad for the win- “My impatience was so great that I did not ter—that her parents were anxious to marry her scenery—felt no sympathy with“ the exTravagaTt I wait evening of that day. I also desired to a French count At last account she was stlU poetry that has been written in its praise; were jo see her alone, and sent up my card, with a charmed with the mountains and lakes of Switz- bouquet ol japonicas, between dinner and. tea- persistent in refusing; but they were to go with him to his home on the Loire, and it was hoped of Vami lingered eMLumam " She L“b“n Lr. wli« i«h, »» told me bj a i»g ohl .lame wh«e self. Are you rich ? 'Tis years since I heard from you,” inquired the first-introduced gentle man. “Ah! no—far from it, in the dollar and cent view. But rich in health and spirits, with plenty Archer would leave nothing undone to convict [ of work, witn something laid by for a rainy day first released from school, but could not recall the visit without regret, for there she lost a hand kerchief that was infinitely dear to her heart. ’Twas of exquisite lace, and was a gift from her pater nal grandmother, whose husband had presented it on their bridal day. Florence bore her grand mother’s name, which was worked in the lace by the latter, with her own hair, after it had be come white (which, you see, explains why I had not detected it.) She said she knew not why plantation joined that of the De Fleurs, and she was in correspondence with Mrs. De Fleur, who had written her the information so kindly offered me! I resolved to leave next morning for Paris, and risk my life even, were it necessary, to save my fiancee from so miserable a fate, as well as prove my devotion; for I surmised that her father kept her abroad in the hope of winning her affections from me. I went into the office that very evening to settle my bill and give she hai carried it on that occasion; ’twas a most ncd j ce °t niy departure, when I found, just the man he believed to be his father’s murderer. She knew what an array of damning evidence could be brought up against the prisoner, and how little could be said in his defense. Manch’s last letter had told of employing a lawyer, who had “shaken his head and looked glum when Grannv stated the case to him.” and claiming a host of friends,” answered the cheery voice of Alfred Gibson. “And what is your business?” “Traveling for the firm. 'Tis a cosmopolitan sort of a life; a man belongs to nobody, yet to everybody. I am nearly always successful, am second partner, and altogether as happy and ‘Must I tell him about the things I found in free-hearted tts when we played cricket on the the hollow tree? And if they’re any use, won’t ; college campus or worried the life half out of you send ’em by the express?” added Manch. When she read this, Melicent wrung her hands in perplexed agitation. Those things found in 1 perple ‘itie ltr.iiow-umt) oi* were they? They were nowhere to be found. She had seen her father snatch them up contemptu ously, calling them “voodoo trash;” she had ' seen him leave her presence with the package in his hand, while she, wrought upon by his subtle, controlling influence, made no remonstrance. our Greek professor. Ha ! ha ! Frank, remem- b’rest those times and r . . .. ‘ The old ulay-erouud Where you and I have’sat so oft together?’ ” “Yes; and ‘I’m thinking of the joys, when you and I were boys, And those merry days, now gone, John, forever !’ ” replied our hero in melancholy tones. “Why this sadness, Frank! Are you a wid- Most likely he had destroyed them, as he had ower?” Al. glanced at the hat of his companion commanded her to do—burnt them as soon as j as if seeking the badge of mourning, he entered the room. In the dismay that accom- “Oh! no, my boy, but life has not been so panied his sudden attack immediately after- j jolly to me as to you. I believe I was ever in ward, and in the confused trouble that had sue- | dined to take a more solemn view of things than in the picture galleries of Florence. Rome. With my classics so fresh in my mind, the home of the Caesars and the poets held great attractions for me, and we were loth to leave the eternal city. On the last day of our visit, I went once more to the great cathedral—St. Peter’s. I was intently studying the wonderful work of the arched ceiling, inlaid with mosaics and precious stones of minutest size, describing Scripture scenes and presenting a brilliant view, when a party of Americans entered,—a gentleman a little past the meridian of life, his wife and daughter. Of course my own countrymen attracted me more than did foreigners, an 1 I transferred my gaze from the ceiling to them, while they were too absorbed to discover my continued glance, or stare, really. ’Twas the daughter’s beauty that held me chained; yet I felt that it was the rare sweetness of her countenance more than regu larity of features that attracted and fascinated me. Her hair was a light, glossy brown; her eyes soft and lustrous, their color between a blue and gray; most beautiful teeth were displayed as she uttered exclamations of delight as she be held for the first time the immense building. She was not more than eighteen and I concluded that, like myself, she was recently freed from’ books. A year’s travel had made me quite ob- them in their box at the opera, found me there, servant, and I readily decided the nativity and j too. You don’t believe in fate? Then why was I relation to each other of the members of every preferred out of a score of invitations, although party. By the soft voices and incomplete pro- i I belonged to the North, which she laughingly nunciation of the two ladies and the lordly air j told me one day was her only enemy ? Soon the of the gentleman, I knew they were Southern- ; hot blood of my Southern rivals was stirred, ers. Abashed finally at my own presumption, I Three several times was I insulted, for no other walked down the long aisle and stood before the j purpose than to give me an opportunity to ‘ask magnificent altar. Soon the party followed and ■, lor a meeting;’ but I chose rather to be insulted I, keeping in advance, returned to the spot (for her sake, too,) than to be shot or run through where I stood when they entered the cathedral, J with a sword bittuny eyes were srrtfTm Ti~.r face. **A.trlast I-fii thought it'safer iu »wouuw turn eminences man r •- - ,, n < , tlie g " e ; at , <1 "°. r :_ T1 _!® P la ?fJ lad ! } l L g , reate I t _ fearfr0n L h ! r “Five years ago this month,-the tenth was the day on which she was married ! So you see, Al., I am quite skeptical in regard to the fair sex. Though they are most iliarming ball-room unfortunate circumstance; her grandmother had never forgiven her! I asked if they made no search for it. ‘ Yes, every possible inquiry,’ and offered rewards, but heard no word of it, and only when talking of Rome did she think of it. Do you wonder that I did not speak ? The longer I talked with her, the dearer my handkerchief became to me—or rather her handerchief—and I would not part with it yet! “But I am wearying you, and will curtail. From that first short call, I was almost constantly in attendance on Miss De Fleur; if I could not gain her ear, I was beside the mother’s chair,—- the father was gouty, and I often did duty as escort to the madam ! Every evening that found arrived, a cousin of Florence, a despicable deb auchee whose fortune was gone, and who had been trying to secure another by a marriage with some heiress. He was telling, to a group of loungers, that he would leave next morning for New York; thence sail for France to visit his new cousin, for Florence had been married a month before! He took from his pocket the letter he had received from his ‘ new cousin, ’ with a post script from Florence herself, in ichich she joined with her husband in inviting him to visit them! * Tell my friends in Louisiana that I may visit them, but at present am so happy that I think I shall never want to leave La Belle France.’ I glanced over the debauchee’s shoulder,—surely j 1 luid a right; the handwriting was certainly hers! | I went to my own room to suffer unseen. Y'es, I did suffer. I read her four precious letters,— took my talisman from its hiding-place and put it back many times. Many a man would have destroyed them; I could not. They were all I had left of happiness; but my hopes were crushed—my doom sealed—my faith in woman gone !” “How long ago has that been?” said Gibson, , , • , , who had been intensely interested, and now ’ -* y^yiuP a thized with hifj companion at the sn/1 ord er tor swallow their challenges than^„ / no attraction for me any longer, and taking a ! father, who had no love for a ‘Y’ankee adven- last look around the immense structure, as if to turer,’ and soon made me unwelcome. This bid farewell, away down the aisle I beheld a j coldness I also ignored, and preserved toward small, white object. I almost ran to seize it, and j him invariably a polite bearing, concealing it from the cunning eyes of the guides, “During the second week of March, Mr. De who were on the look-out for lost articles, I j Fleur would take his family from the city to rushed out to the broad pavement to examine their plantation on a bayou a hundred miles what I had found. It was a lady’s handkerchief from the metropolis. Florence’s father had of the most delicate lace, and exhaled a perfume i already become angry at her refusal of ‘ splen- u of rare and peculiar sweetness. I looked in all did offers,’ and I determined to place my heart ceeded, she had forgotten the mysterious pack- j you, who are, I find, still ready for your joke j directions for my Americans, but they were out : and hand at her disposal. Oh, yes! she had age until it was recalled by Manch’s letter. Then and fun.” J of sight. As uncle and I left Rome the next day, j given me every encouragement—but she was she had searched for it in vain. But had she j “Frank, my whole business is trading, buying j all opportunity of searching for them was lost, called ‘queen of coquettes;’ besides, all women found it, would she have sent it to be produced and selling, and I confess to a strong love of ; Something prompted me to hide my treasure do that. So I went one morning with my talis- at the trial ? Could she have done so, fearing [ making money, which requires steady brain j and to conceal the fact of finding it. j man, the long-lost handkerchief—plead my love and feeling what she did? It would have been j work; I am no philosopher, but do you know | “We soon sailed from Havre to our own home, for her, and fear of its not being returned, as a trying thing to decide. : that I think you need a little hard work ? That j and I tried to settle down to business, but that Enclosed in Manch’s letter was a slip cut from j fortune your uncle left you has proved a mis- j sweet face would haunt me, and I allowed my- one of the weekly papers in Alluvia. It was a j fortune ! eh, Frank?” ' j self to live almost an ideal life. I was bantered eulogy of “Our Gallant Y'oung Mayor.” The “Y'ou speak truly though boldly, Al,; but if for my indifference to the charms of the fair sex editor said: i my manner savor of melancholy, and I am not j and was asked if some stout English girl, who “He will yet put his enemies and detractors j merry and confiding as you, I am no disciple of j could walk her ten miles per day, had won my to shame. His speech yesterday was a grand Antisthenes. I am far from .holding a morbid heart; or had a Spanish senorita with her daz- effort- a triumph to his friends, a blow to his i hatred toward my kind; and so far from being zlig black eyes captivated me; or had I been un foes. Last night he appeared for a short time at j an ennuye, six of every twelve months are de- i mercifully jilted by one of the blue-eyed Roman the ball given by the ‘True and Tried Society,' j voted to actual participation in fashionable I beauties, until I determined to throw off my re- at the City Hail. He was presented by Miss 1 pleasure. No, no, Al.; I am a thorough man of ! serve and give myself up to the pleasures of so- ti- | the world, but no cynic,” and Frank Hale i ciety—perhaps find a wife to please my fond but my only excuse for what would appear, under any other circumstances, unpardonable. Well, she accepted me—we were engaged ! I then sought her father; told him of my having met them at Rome — of my finding the handker chief— of our affection and engagement. How he stormed! ‘“Y'ou insolent, presumptuous abolitionist!— to ask for the hand of my daughter because, as you say, you already possess her heart! How dare you ask for the hand of a De Fleur, in whose veins flows the blood of French nobles ? Her mother, too, I’d have you know; was a laughed a measured society laugh. | too indulgent uncle. Still, my first inquiry at Alfred Gibson took out his memorandum book, : the watering places in the summer (and I gener- , daughter of the nephew of the Duke of Lancas- ran his eye over a page, made a note, restored it ally attend several in a season) was, ‘Are there | ter—English nobility ! No, sir ! By my troth, to his pocket and turned quickly to his compan- \ an y Southerners here ?’ were I but a younger man, you should pay for ion. | “Five years alter that meeting in the great ca- this insult with your base blood !’ “Frank, there never was surprise greater or \ thedral, my uncle died and I became, with my meeting more welcome than this. But j not yet told me whence comest thou and goest.” partners, I want none for life!” commented Frank Hale, affecting an indifferent laugh. “Perhaps another little Southern beauty will change your feelings during this trip to the Crescent City.” “No danger of that, my boy. Besides, I shall not mingle in society, but be a mere ‘ looker-on in Y'ienna.’ But I know not why I go. An irre sistible attraction draws me thither this winter.” “Well, you’ll let me know if Cupid draws his bow on you and brings you to the feet of some gentle houri?” urged Gibson, proffering his card. “Yes, yes, Al., and invite you to the wed ding !” answered Hale ironically. The young men parted—one to pursue his business with a strong will and energy, happier not only for not having been disappointed in his fondest hopes, but for having work to em ploy his mind and hands—happier than his companion, who continued his journey to the gulf- Reader, would you know what the “irresist ible attraction ” was ? Let my hero tell you, as he told his matter-of-fact friend, Gibson, in a letter written only a few weeks after their part ing at a railroad junction: “My Dear Al.,—Congratulate me, my boy, and come to my wedding! Cupid has let fly his “I returned to Florence and begged her to arrows; they have opened the old wound—not a Arabella Bindwell with a laurel wreath, beauti fully formed out of wax by the fair fingers of the lovely belle. He responded to her poetical encomium by a brilliant and gallant little speech.” Then, she had not ruined his life after all; then, he was still prosperous and honored. His admiring friends—females especially—no doubt applauded his desertion of “that creature” (his wife), and congratulated him upon being rid of. her. “It is well,” thought Melicent, pressing her ! hand upon her drearily-aching heart. “It is i well that he has been able to thrust aside all thought of me from his life, as he would an obsta-j the magnificence _ _ „ , — , ^ „ _ . cle from his path. It is well that I have not done J that of Gotham or Paris; the hospitality of its minor beauties, did one pay a compliment to , talisman until we meet again.’ I have kept it why. I was comparing my unhappy handker- him such bitter harm—that I have only tinged | citizens is charming, while the study of "strange their charms, replied: ‘Oh ! you should see Miss I well. chief with that of the Moor. At the close of the his history with a shade of melancholy that his faces and foreign manners is rare "amusement. De Fleur; she is the queen of the South and has “But I would not lose her without a desperate third act some one tapped me on the shoulder. I commiserating lady admirers will think inter- The opera, the play, the drive and the ball-room no equal.’ I really did long to see her, if only to 1 effort to recover her. In two days I had secured turned. It was the father of Florence De Fleur, estiTier and romantic. All the nain and all the are fruitful of wnnointniA. rrhiie tn o lm-er ef satisfy my curiosity. ; the services of a man to aid me in mji plans; he j the veritable old stormer who had once so abused “At last, the proprietor announced that he had was wise enough to be a silent machine when me - I arose. He extended his hand; I grasped received an order from the father of the ‘ queen’ the retainer was great and promise of future it cordially, for I thought but of her. He only to prepare a suite of rooms for his family. Re- reward given. He was to act as a peddler, and said, ‘This way, and led me towards a box. and saw her father mumbling in his arm-chair “ Y'our picture is so highly colored and so en- jected lovers looked sheepish, while beaux who we would go together to the neighborhood of “‘Is she married ? said I falteringly. and the old black attendant nodding comfort- thusiastically exhibited that you almost tempt had never met her were radiant with anticipa- ! De Fleur’s plantation. He would go to the “ ‘Aet-er has been ! answered he, as he opened ably in her corner upon the floor. A knock at me to alter my route; however, we travel for two tion. I was jocularly advised not to bend knee house and try to see Florence—I gave him a let- the door, and I stood face to face with her. .er. How long will vou remain ?” to her, for her one prejudice was against Y'an- ; ter for her. She was to accompany him to me. j “Ten minutes’ talk explained and restored esting and romantic. shame be mine.” nature the conservatories, public and private, j She sat still and listened to the moaning of are a source of endless pleasure,” replied our j the wind and the (full fall of the rain without, hero with ardor. the door aroused her. “It is the man with the coal I ordered to-day; go and let him in, Martha,” Melicent said. And then she relapsed into bitter musings. and did not look up when Martha re-entered the room, accompanied by a man—did not look up until a voice near her said: ‘ Melicent!” days together. “Until the great carnival, Mardi Gras, is over. Soon after that, society disbands; the planters But on the first visit he failed to see her; on the all. Her cousin had long annoyed her with his excitement was really intense in society second, he found opportunity to deliver my let- attentions. He had invented the story of her lext fortnight, between anticipation of ter. She replied that it was impossible to follow marriage, and forged the letter which I saw, alwavs in wonder, on our republican wavs! on the thirteenth, but by chance her coming was never be transferred; but any step of the kind and told Florence that / w-as married—that he ’ _ . * _ _ ••*1*1 i , ii i* <• . -i /• i OL . Jf J t . l v ii i J-l. — lion cppTl nip ltn ini’ wife in Vow Vorlr nr ortmn. had seen me with my wife in New l'ork or some where. He died a few months ago, confessing all. Her mother died three years since, exact ing a promise from her husband that he would not try to influence his daughter’s choice in Then, with a wild, glad cry. she sprung to her Were it not for the absence of societv during"so delayed until the very day of the fete. She did I proposed 'twould be worse than madness to feet, and would have thrown herself into the great a part of the year, I would make the Cres- not appear during the day, but was suppo.^d to attempt. She could give me no hope, except of arms of her husband if those arms had not been cent City my home*” . be one of the disguistal crowd which -died the meeting somewhere in the summer; she would tightly folded under his cloak, and the cold “ But, Frank, you must have some peculiar rea- brilliantly-lighted rooms. Numerous were the urge her parents to take her to Saratoga. She look and attitude had not utterly repelled her. son for admiring a portion of our country so far whisper^a conjectures as to which of the elegant had confidence in me; would try to send me a _ She shrank back—the emotion of joy checked removed from our own and so averse to Yankees, costumes enrobed the ‘merciless coquette,’ as | letter sometimes, but requested me not to try to marriage. The old gentleman really loved his and recoiling upon her heart so suddenly that j Many of those people actually despise their she was called by some—the‘lovely woman,’by write to her—it was too great a risk; her father s daughter, and as soon as he discovered me on it inflicted the keenest pang. She recovered ; Northern brethren, and on some subjects can others. A wager was offered on a royal-looking anger would be avenged on her, and that she that evening, offered to call me. ^ herself after a moment, and pointing to a seat, find no words suflicientlv bitter to express their ‘ Queen of Sheba.’ ‘Not tall enough,’ was the ob- was very unhappy. My agent reported that he “AL, we will be married to-morrow . Me are said: thorough contempt for us, and no class of them jeetion. And on a lovely ‘ Mary Stuart.’ ‘Not ; met Miss De Fleur walking in the garden; that both tired of gayety, and will go to old Cam- “There is my father. You have heard of his are more emphatic in their denunciations than like her character—won’t take your bet,’was the she wrote the short note he brought me, in an bridge and settle down happy yes, happier, we condition, perhaps.” those same belles whose smiles and vain co- answer. Then a magnificent‘Queen Elizabeth.’ arbor, while he kept watch on the approaches, both think, than if we had never been separated He held out his hand to the invalid. The old quetries have onlv succeeded in making you a ‘Put up your money; sue d never assume that He also said she was very pale and looked fright- since that day, ten jears ago, when she lost and man put his trembling left hand reluctantly out general admirer. Did no beauty hold special role !' so on. Each surmise was defeated, and ened. I paid him well and returned to Boston. I found the lace handkerchief. You can easily and looked up blinkingly at the tall figure and reign over your heart? No Venus claim the all doubted that the queen was in the throng. “With the following summer, I was the first believe that my faith in woman’s constancy is into the proud, handsome face. Then he shook homage of a too willing Adonis?” and Alfred “I was charmed by th% exquisite naivete of a guest registered at Saratoga, and excitedly rekindled. Adieu. Frank. his head, as if he disapproved of the new-comer., Gibson looked curiously into the still sober face little German peasant girl of petite figure and watched the arrivals, but she came not. About 1 *“ for mysterious reasons, and began to call “Milly” ’ of his companion. * most graceful carriage. So natural were her the middle of July a couple of gentlemen, “Why is it,” asks an exchange, “that nearly in his childish, tremulous tones. She came and “ They were really the rivals of the goddess of manners that I felt convinced’twas the disguise whose acquaintance I had made the previous every Senator’s wife in Washington is a hand- sat down by him, and laid her hand on his. love, but I would love a Psyche. More than grace- of a novice rather than of a belle. She refused winter at the St. Charles, came up the steps and some woman ?” It is simply because nearly ful form and classic face must win me. I have to waltz with me, on which I ventured to sug- greeted me. Immediately I inquired of the De every Senator’s wife who is not a handsome ■ lost faith in woman’s constancy; they are born gest that it was the lavorite dance ot her coun- Fleurs. _ woman is left at home. coquettes and the education of to-day but im- trvmen—referring, of course, to her assumed ‘“Ha! jilted, were you? M ell, old fellow, proves the talent. I am fond of ladies'society, character. She replied in the softest tones,‘Der you were not alone; here are two can sympathize A Hint.—“I wish I was a pudding, mama "' but they are alike to me. I love none and ask liecht ift innier recht ! By the way, Al.. do not with you, and a score more v ill tell the same V hy no one to care for me. Y'es, Al., Ephraim is wed- mistake the proverbial sociability of Southern tale of woe. (TO BE CONnNFED.) ‘■You have outrun your fortune,— I blame yon not that you would be a beggar; Each to his taste ! But I do charge you, sir, That being beggar'd, you should win false moneys Out of that crucible called debt.” ‘Cause I should have such lots Any attractions here? Any beau- sugar put into me.”