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[For Tbe Sunny South.] LIVES I>r<llc-at«*cl to 111** Lady Who Could not Join in th** Fourth of July Olebrat ion, 1875* BY K. C. WAKELEE. Bank! back! 1 cauuot take the hand That’s proffered to ruy clasp. Red with the blood of mauy a brave And falieu son, who nobly gave His life my hearth and home to save From the dire foe man's grasp. Let those who can, ring forth to-day Pa an and jubilee; The martyred dead, a spectre band, Marshaling fr<>m the spirit land, With saddened mien aud warring hand, Are gathering with me. “Peace!” *Tis an unavailing cry. These may be peace when they Blot out the round of bitter years, The days of waiting and of fears. The nights of watching and of tears, That wore our lives away. “ Forgive!” To kneel and kiss the dead W T ould be but mockery, If we the tatal blow had given; The captive, with bis chains unriven, May be to many a semblance driven,,— Forgiveness must be from the free. “ Forget!” Aye, would to God we might; But crush them as we will. The wreck, the ruin aud the wrong, Like giants bound with withes, are strong— Like watch-fires smoldering, ere long Kindie on each high hill. [For The Suuny South.] SUMMER FLIRTATION. BY FLOY FAY. CHAPTER I. Seek not to know the future— Be happy while you may. A fresh, young voice was singing merrily down in the rose-garden, while leaning against one of the great old oaks of Belleville grove stood a young girl waiting and listening. “Come, Blanche,” she called, at length; “you would charm the nightingale itself, but my pa tience is exhausted. How much longer do you suppose that I will wait ?’’ “Behold me,” cried the gay girl, bounding over tbe lawn to meet her. “I come, the fair Flora, goddess of spring !” “I must say,” remarked her companion, “ that you’ve wasted a great deal of time making yourself beautiful, when that irresistible young man cannot possibly arrive till to-morrow;” for : the young lady had her basket and her little white apron filled with flowers, and had adorned her garden-hat with long, graceful sprays of j yellow jessamines, while little clusters of pale [ tea-roses were nestled in her pale-blue dress, and drooping over her yellow hair. “Besides,” grum bled her cousin, “ I've been waiting ages for : those flowers, and since I’m to be your only ad mirer, my young goddess, it is quite painful to see you waste your energies in this manner.” “Alas! time has not taught you patience,” laughed Blanche Carroll, in her mischievous tones; “but I’ll promise, my dear Vincy, to do my best to improve you in this respect before the summer is over. Now, here is our dear old seat;” but while Blanche sank down upon the little rustic bench deep in the shade of the grove, Vincy stood looking backward over the dewy lawn they had just traversed, to the long white house seen through the green foliage, with its wide piazzas and open windows, to the flower- garden at its side where the roses were unfold ing their bright buds in the early sunshine, and she turned to her cousin with sparkling eyes and a little sigh of satisfaction, saying “Ah, Blanche ! pleasant things do happen oc- , ,. , casionally in one’s lifetime. Two weeks ago, I 8econds disappeared among the trees in the “I don’t think you are so much a ‘coward at heart’ as you are a simpleton in mind,” re marked Miss Blanche placidly; hut here Vincy t roused to sudden wrath, made a diversion by dnigging her from the bench by means of her ! long, light hair, and making wild confusion of j the hat and flowers. “ Hear me out,’ she laughingly expostulated ) from her lowly seat on the grass. “If you'll I say you’ll marry this young Croesus and Ches terfield combined, I’ll not quarrel with your feelings. For Heaven’s sake, just reflect that you can travel in Europe and take me with you, that you can have the pleasure of entertaining me for a winter in Washington, and don’t talk to me about ‘infatuation,’ my dear; its out of place and unnecessary.’’ “Blanche, it’s sinful to be so mercenary,” | sighed Vincy. “I didn’t think much about the future at the time I promised, because father wanted me to so much, and I hadn’t had time then to consider the cost.” “My dear girl, I thought you'd been ‘count ing the cost’ of things all your life, and that now yon needn’t. Vincy,” she continued with great emphasis, “I consider it my mission in life to make you keep your word in this matter. If you don’t you’ll repent it all the days of your long lifetime. “Well," said Vincy, “ you talk like all the rest. My family are certainly unanimous,” she con tinued with a sarcastic little smile. “Well, I call this ingratitude to a kind Provi dence. I call this casting pearls before swine,” said Blanche, with upraised hands and eyes. “And I’ll just tell you, I won’t be called ‘ swine,”’ cried out Vine} - , laughingly indignant, springing to her feet. But just here a youthful scion of Africa stepped before them, exclaiming in great excitement: “ Oh. Miss Blanche, come quick to the house!” “ Well, Lamartine,” inquired that young lady, “ by whose authority do you invade our peaceful retreat and disturb our reveries ?” The boy stared a moment blankly at the ques tion, then, full of his news, replied: “Your ma done sent for yon, ’cause her brother done come with his leg broke and a doctor!” “ Bless my soul, I wonder if thats so!” ex- ! claimed Blanche as she sprang up and sped | away over the lawn, while Vincy made her way more slowly to the back of the house and gained I her room unnoticed. There was great confusion j down stairs for a time, and Vincy sat by the ! shaded windows, wondering as to the cause of j the accident and the sudden arrival. Presently, Blanche found time to run up and report: “ It’s all owing to Bert's foolishness in jump- | ing off the train,” she said. “His leg is not broken, but he has sprained his ankle badly, and cannot walk at all. Of course, ma is in a I happy state of excitement over him. She has i him reclining on a lounge in her room., and is j flying round him with wines and cordials, and poor young Dr. Wells who came out with him is beset with questions as to his probable recov ery. By the way, it occurs to me that people who get their ankles sprained invariably fall in love with somebody, and I do hope in this case it won’t be with me, as he’s my step-uncle, or with you, Vincy, for you are engaged. I implore you not to flirt with him, for you ought to be on your good behavior, now that your time is so short. Oh, I forgot! I came to tell you to go down and en tertain the young Dr. Wells, who is now in pos session of the front hall:” and here Miss Blanche made her exit as rapidly as she had come in. “I shan’t go down,” mused Miss Carroll, left alone; “and as to Mr. Bert Harley, I will not too readily offer my sympathy and society to that afflicted young man. I have not forgotten that last summer, having arrived here too late to meet me, he said ‘he congratulated himself on hi“ escape, and was heartily glad he had avoided the trouble of making love to me!’ Well, I’m a changed girl,” she reflected with a sigh. “I’m sure I don’t care what people think of me now; aud as to love-making, it's odious—I don’t want any more of it;” then, recollecting that Blanche would soon be calling her down, she caught up her hat, stole down the back staircase and in a that either I or Bert Harley would come to grief if ever we met. Somebody is going to come out of this with disappointed hopes, etc., and I don’t know who it will be—Horace, Bert or I. Xous verrons." So she turned to her book—but not to read. Visions of Bert's saucy blue eyes would rise up before her, and she would stop to won der if he really supposed she had dropped the rosebud on purpose. Then she made up her mind she wouldn’t assist in amusing him during his convalescence. Then she wondered if he wrote poetry now as he did last summer. “Vincy,” said Blanche that night, as the two sat together on the moonlit piazza regaling poor Bert with all forms of gossip: “Vincy, don't, you wonder if Horace Dent is not sailing this beautiful night upon the Bay of Naples?” “Well, Blanche,” she responded, “to put it mildly, it is immaterial to me who is on the Bay of Naples this night, so that I am here at Belle ville.” : CHAPTER n. Swiftly sped away the summer days at Belle ville. Such sunny weather, fresh bay breezes, j rich sunsets and starlight nights were certainly never known before. And, of course. Bert re covered rapidly. Vincy, seemingly forgetful of her late resentment, daily assisted Mrs. Carroll 1 to spoil him, and Blanche looked on the while j ! with sometimes a glance of anxious displeasure, ' I and sometimes a look of grim determination which her pretty face had seldom worn. At last came July, and with it a crowd of gay, ■ j light-hearted young visitors from town, wllo failed, however, to distract Blanche’s thoughts from the impending calamity which she foresaw, presence of mind, and nearly falling from her lofty perch at this unexpected contretemps. :‘I beg yonr pardon for my intrusion.” he continued, with an amused smile, “but since I am here, permit me to remain and assist yon down when the shower is over.” “ Certainly,” she returned, the mischief flash ing back into her laughing blue eyes. “I sup pose I have special ownership in the tree, as I was first in possession. Allow me to offer you that hickory »tnmp, and beg you will be seated.” “Thank you,” he returned, politely, taking the seat designated. “May I ask.” he resumed, “if you had much trouble in getting up there?” “Well, yes,” she returned; “I may as well own that I slipped off the first limb three times; but I am quite secure at present, thank you. When did you arrive, Mr. Dent ?” "I see you are surprised at my coming on without any warning,” said Mr. Dent, coloring visibly. “I can give no excuse but that I felt j irresistibly impelled to leave Rome and set sail for my ‘ain eountrie;’ and arriving in New York a few days ago, I felt inclined to come on with out writing, and I have no reason for that either. ” Miss Blanche wanted to say something saucy 1 about his being “irresistibly impelled,” but 1 somehow could not express herself with her usual readiness. “Vincy is the blindest idiot I ever saw,” she thought to herself. Here the sun shone out, and the clouds grew i bright, ttie patter of the raindrops died away, I and Mr. Dent rose to render Miss Carroll some i “I knew you perfectly well,” he replied quickly, “and still I repea* that you base it in your power to put an end to this, and if you will not, then three lives will be wretched—Vincy’s, Bert’s and my own.” Blanche glared through the eyes of her pretty silk mask, but his were hidden in the heavy folds about his face, and the light was dim besides. So then she gave it up, and leaned trembling back into her comer of the carriage. “Come, Blanche, he went on, throwing off the troublesome disguise and bringing into view the black eyes and bewitching dark curls, “ if you’ll only run away with me to-night, every thing will settle down beautifully. Vincy told me all about Bert the morning after I arrived when we took that horseback ride together. She begged me to release her, and this I did without serious pain, for I’d already fallen in love with the wicked little girl I saw in the beech tree. ” “ But mother ! What will she say?” breathed Branche faintly. “ Why, she loves me dearly,” cried Horace, with modest fervor. “She will be truly relieved to have it ail end without further trouble. If you don t, darling, we will have shocking times in another week. Don’t you see, Blanche,” he went on more hurriedly than ever, "that this is the only way of escape. Poor Vincy so fears and loves her father she will entirely obey him. His will is her law. If things go on so. I must stay and marry her, for she has not courage to refuse me. and I cannot turn my back on the young lady and run away by myself. Then she assistance in descending. This was done very j loves Bert, and I love you, my darling.’ gracefully, notwithstanding she slipped from and determined to move heaven and earth to I the lower branch in precipitate haste, and was borne safely to terra firma by Mr. Dent's arm. Blanche never knew what she said to Mr. prevent. But necessarily preoccupied as she was with her guests, naughty Vincy had the ad vantage. Vainly did poor Blanche grow eloquent i Dent, or what he said to her on that walk home. 1 She was in a strange kind of dream. This was the “hero” then—Vincy’s intended. All other ideas were crowded out of her mind except that she thought him irresistible, and vaguely won dered at Yincy's indifference. When they reached the gallery, and Vincy rose to meet them, the two girls had changed complexions—Vinev’s rich color faded into pal lor, and Blanche's clear white cheek glowing crimson. The betrothed pair met almost for mally. Bert surveyed his handsome rival with and then turned to watch Vincy in the old way, striving to gain the smile she was wont to give him. \ The evening passed in dancing and laughtei - . as usual, but all felt something was wrong, and Blanche could not even guess from Vincv’s be havior whether she was reconciled or distressed by his arrival. Long into the night did Blanche ponder the question, counting the “ wee sma' hours ” one by one, till she grew angry with her self asking over and over again, “ What did she care for it all ?" but never answering the ques tion. even to herself. What was her surprise to find, on descending to breakfast the next morning, that Vincy and Mr. Dent had been out horseback riding for more than an hour, and had not yet returned. “ That girl would flirt if to-day were to be her last oh earth,” she remarked, quite savagely, to Bert. Bert gave her a sickly smile, as if hope and fear were warring in his manly breast, and walked away. Blanche was out of all patience. “If she meant to go on so over that Dent, why did she flirt so remorselessly with Bert ? Poor fellow ! It’s a shame —I won’t stand it!” Nor were her rufiled spirits soothed Alien Vincy rustled into the breakfast-room a few mo- and persuasive when she could beguile her cousin into a tete-a-tete at odd times; vainly did she remind her of her absent fiance, waxing in dignant as she sung his praises and upbraided that young lady for her inconstancy in the very strongest language that her vivid imagination could invent. Vincy took it quietly—so quietly that Blanche quite marveled, knowing her im petuous disposition so well. So the days passed on. Pretty, stately Madie King and the young Dr. Wells (who had returned ; uially. Be to pay Bert a week’s visit' indulged in a digni- j gloomy eye fled, slow flirtation—taking little twilight prom- ' enades and wearing each other’s flowers. Lively, merry Armantine DuPre, with Blanche for a kindred spirit, took mad gallops across the coun try with various attendant Cavaliers from town. Bird-nesting, hunting up gipsies with a rash im pulse to know the vailed future, got up ice-cream parties and tableaux, theatricals and impromptu masquerades, fruit suppers on the lawn, or bet ter still, when tired of concerts in the parlors and dances in the hall, they had real glorious games of blind-man’s buff in the grove by moon light; and all the while Vincy, in Bert’s eyes at least, grew lovelier each day; and he would sit in his chair on the gallery, or on his sofa in the hall, and with a beautiful and growing indiffer ence to all the world beside, would watch her as she mingled with the rest. So it was only right and fair that she should sit in the cool, shaded parlor one morning, while the rest were having that inevitable croquet outside, and read to him the book he was finishing that day. “ Miss Vincy,” he had said, “this is something you must read to me. I cannot do it justice by my self.” So she took the book from him, and sink- in to the great crimson “ sleepy hollow ” by his side, read, in a voice musical and low’, “Lily’s” letter to “ lienelm Chillingly.” She had read it all before, and the remembered sadness and i ments later, accompanied by her cavalier, both didn't dream of such a blessing as a whole sum mer nt Belleville.” “ I’m glad to see you are beginning to revive already,” replied Blanche lightly. “ Truly yours is a hard case.” “ There are still many sorrowful things In life, But the saddest of all is loving." “Don’t apply any sentimental nonsense to me,” said Vincy. “As to love, I have not learned it yet.” “All the worse for yon, then, my dear. Now, the truth is, I am more than delighted to get you here, Uncle Carroll is such a crusty old bear about letting you leave him—hush ! it’s so—and I pride myself upon my diplomacy in the mat ter. I’ve been thinking.” she continued, waving a spray of jessamine, with much emphasis— “I've been thinking for some time that you stood in need of a little sensible advice from me, and you should consider it a special providence that you have such a friend and counselor, will ing to lead you in the way you should go. “Well,” laughed Vincy, “agreed, then, that I’m lacking in ordinary judgment, and should hum bly ask for an intelligent opinion upon the pres ent ‘ momentous crisis.’ What would you kindly advise?” “I should just ask a few questions.” “ Proceed. ” “First, then, yon haven't been flirting much, have you ?” “I think not,” Viney replied reflectively. “You see this engagement of mine is such a source of elevating pleasure to my father, that he cannot keep his satisfaction to himself, and so he confers with all the family over the fortu nate circumstances of the case, and it is pretty generally known everywhere, of course. People seem to expect me to sing, ‘ My heart is over the sea,’ and have given me up to my happy des tiny.” “Well, now, I'm truly glad of that. You don't seem to realize, Vincy, that it will never do to flirt at this stage of affairs. What do you mean by looking so doleful ? Where is the young hero who is traveling in ‘furrin lands?’" •• Well. I suppose you must know all about it, or I shall have uo peace,” replied Vincy, leaning against the tree, aud looking down upon the self-constituted “Queen of Flowers” with a fine expression of resignation. “ The truth is, then, that I very much wish he would remain a traveler in ‘furrin lands’ for the rest of his natural life, and I would gladly ex press the wish more openly if I dared.” “ Yincv ! Vincy !” cried Blanche, staring at her aghast; “ do you know what you are saying? I did not really think you were crazy— indeed, I didn’t! You wish him never to return ! You are positively insane to talk that way when your word is given, and you cannot take it back in honor. Why, you admit you admire him; you own he is handsome as a prince; you know he talks like an angel, has inherited possessions, : loves you devotedly, and if you give him up. there are no words in the English language to express your stupidity.” “Now. wait,” said Vincy, getting up before , her in her determination to be heard. "Blanche, you always express yourself too strongly. I don't mean to say that I'm going to break my engagement, and bring upon my head the right- , eous indignation of all who are concerned, and all who are not. I was only thinking that I was not much infatuated with my knight errant, and sometimes I think I would give the world to be wholly free again. But, of course, I don't (dare to break my word. I begin to think I’m ' ;a coward at heart. ” grove. An hour later, Mr. Bert Harley lay on his sofa trying to sleep. Blanche and her stepmother had at last consented to leave him to his repose, with his couch wheeled close to the window and the long Venetian blinds half unclosed to let in the breeze. Lazily, sleepily looking out upon the lawn, though kept awake by the pain of his sprained foot, Bert suddenly saw a radiant vis ion approaching. Beautiful, Viney was in any dress or on any occasion: bat this morning, as she came down the slope in the broad sunshine, with her garden hat tilted over her wealth of wavy bronze hair, her cheeks bright with more than their usual eriidfeon glow, her great brown eyes sparkling as she raised them for a moment in the direction of Bert's window, he secretly voted hers the loveliest face he had ever seen. He raised himself upon his elbow in sudden for- pathos of the story came back to her as she read unhappy little Lily’s farewell, and tbe thought of her own darkening future smote her heart with a sudden and bitter pain. There was a change in her voice, and her downcast face grew white as she read the last few words, so full of a despairing love, so tender, so hopeless: “ You remember the little riug ? Oh: darling, darling!" A hand fell on hers, and looking up, Bert’s face was white as her own. “ Vincy, Vincy !” he said huskily, “ stop before it is too late for us as well. Will you dare to say you have not forgotten him in these weeks since we met?” Far-famed flirt as she was, all her bright, read}’ little speeches failed her now, and her great brown eyes were bright with tears as she j looked up. “I have never thought of him since you j came !” she said at length; and then hated herself ! immediately for saying so much, as she felt her ! hand more tightly clasped. But Bert’s face wore a look of supreme satis- | faction which he vainly tried to conceal as Blanche's skirts rustled along the hall at this | moment, and Blanche’s face appeared at the j door. “ There’s a carriage full of us going up to town | right away, and you’re to come with us, Vincy,” getfulness of his recent calamity, and as her : observed the intruder, authoritatively. step fell upon the piazza, he hid a mischievous j smile under his dark moustache, and called j aloud in no very faint tones, “Blanche!! Blanche! come here.” A sudden impulse moved Vincy, who stepped ; hastily forward, and opening the blinds, she j stood just inside the darkened room, in the stream of golden sunshine that entered with her. ’ Somewhat disconcerted, she was at her nnex- ; pectedly close proximity to the interesting young sufferer on the lounge, but managed to say: “ It is not Blanche—I will call her and send her to you at once.” "Don't go,” he murmured, affecting great physical exhaustion as she was closing the win dow after her. “Don't go; I only wanted some one to bring me a glass of water, but the sight of Miss Vincy Carroll would make me forget it.” “I'm sorry to introduce myself to you in your present weak state,” said she, mischievously smiling at him through the open lattice, “for, as I remember, the infliction was more than you could stand last summer when in remarkably good health. Blanche!” she said, entering the hall, “your brother, or cousin, or uncle, or whatever he is, calls aloud for some water, and you must take it to him.” "Vincy,” responded her cousin with an ap pealing glance, “how am I to pick strawberries : the past and future. “I'm perfectly willing-” said Vincy, getting j up with a readiness which Blanche secretly ap- S proved; and the two disappeared together, leav- j ing Bert to try how far he could walk without J limping. “ Something must be done,’’ mused Blanche, in her room, recalling the tete-a-tete she had in- ' terrupted in the morning; but distracted by the | talking and laughing around her, she took down 1 her sun-bonnet and started off on a solitary ram- ! ble through the woods. Deep in her medita- ] tions, she did not heed the few’straggling clouds I that would now and then shut out the afternoon ; sunshine, till suddenly the patter of raindrops I broke her reverie, and she saiv the coming sum- i mer shower. “ If it were not for this love of a blue muslin,” she thought, “I would not mind it at all;” but nevertheless, she started forward in great haste for " the beach,” which was only a few yards off'. “I’m not going to stand here for the next hour,” i she reflected, reaching the shelter of its low, thick, spreading branches. “Fin going up and 1 make myself comfortable;” apd so, after some difficulty and one or two fruitless attempts, she i swung herself up into the third branch from the ground, and in triumph aud blissful security, sat dangling her pretty boots and ruminating on and go too ? Mary has been sent for ice, and Martin has driven Dr. Wells back to town; so do, like a dear girl, take it to him yourself. As he is sick, there is no use to be so distressingly cer emonious. So a second time, Vincy stood in the light of the open window, this time with a silver tray and a heightened color. •‘Iam sorry for your unfortunate accident,”; she remarked as she stood beside him. “So was I,” he answered; “I was desperately sorry awhile ago. Will you forgive me,” he went on, •• for the opinion I had presumed to form of you before we met ? I changed it at the very first moment of seeing you." "I have not changed mine,” she said, pro- vokingly; and just then, as she stood waiting for the glass, a red rosebud she had fastened at her throat fell suddenly down upon his arm. She started, blushing in red confusion, while he caught it up with a quick glance into her face. “I’m sure I could not help it,” she laughed out, interrupting him in something he was say ing about “accepting the omen," and catching up the glass, she took herself and the waiter out of the window in dignified haste. “ You may wait on your venerable uncle your self, now, Blanche,” she remarked to that young lady, passing her on her way up-stairs. “This is a bad beginning,” she soliloquized iu her solitude. “ I always had a presentiment But what was that she heard ? Footsteps, surely ! Yes, and there was a line-looking gen tleman walking rapidly up to her shelter. “Saints and angels!” ejaculated the girl; “ don't I hope though he won’t see me ?” For there he was, leaning against the great round trunk, fanning himself with his straw hat. “ Oh ! what curls !” thought Blanche, looking down on the clustering black ringlets in excited surprise. “And save me ! the wretched man is looking around to see if the clouds are disap pearing ! If you want to know which way the wind blows, any goose could see it is south, and that is just aheai of yeu. Oh. dear!” But all the time, Blanche sat still as a mouse in her leafy hiding-place. Just then, however, the young man turned deliberately round to in spect the large tree that sheltered' him, and he looked right up into Miss Blanche’s eyes with as startled an expression as her own. “Jupiter!” he exclaimed, in his surprise. “No —Miss Carroll,” corrected that young lady, gravely; and then, as her sense of the lu dicrous overcome her, she broke into a merry peal of laughter, which she quickly endeavored to stifle. “I have long been ambitious to make Miss Carroll’s acquaintance,” replied the gentleman. “I am Harry Dent.” “ Oh !” she exclaimed, forgetting her usual looking pleased and self-satisfied. Vincy, in deed, was perfectly blooming, and met Blanche's vindictive glances with the sweetest smiics in return. But Blanche couldn’t understand it at all. Vincy was perfectly non-committal, and no en treaty nor denunciation could make her say one word on the subject. She only looked pleased; and to say that Blanche was consumed with in dignation would put it too mildly. Then, too, Mr. Dent's behavior was incomprehensible. Didn't he follow her to the piano often, leaving Vincy to talk to other gentlemen outside ? Didn’t he join her last night down by the gate, and bring her some scarlet geraniums "to contrast with her golden hair?” If Vincy disliked him as much as she did, why did he stay? And poor Bert! She couldn’t forget or forgive for one mo ment Yincy's conduct to Bert, when she watched Mr. Dent and herself stroll through the grove to gether, or sing duetts together in evenings. Justly, she thought, has some writer said that a “handsome man who sings is the most fascina ting of all creatures.” But suddenly, all trifling was ended. Blanche saw, with a kind of despair in her heart, Uncle Carroll descend from the carriage and greet his daughter and sister-in-law w r ith his usual self consequence. “Now is the time to try men’s souls,” she whispered to Vincy a moment or two after ward; and her cousin's face was pale and frightened. “I thought I’d come down to arrange for the wedding,” Uncle Carroll explained that evening. “I think it would be better to have it down here, and I suppose, sister, you don’t object. I pre sume, Dent, that you have not let Vincy forget it was fixed for the first of September ?” “We have neither of us forgotten it, sir,” an swered that gentleman; and then Blanche slipped away, and sat for hours looking out into the pale, cold moonlight; and then she saw Bert ; gallop away down the road in reckless speed, and she sighed and said, “Poor Bert!” Oh ! how quickly the weeks went after that! : How white and still Vincy grew, seeming op pressed with a kind of dread. The rounds of gaiety went on as usual, but Blanche seemed for once in her life to have no heart for it. One morning, finding Blanche alone in her 1 room, Viney came in hurriedly and shut the i i door, and throwing herself down on her knees, the poor girl wept bitterly on her cousin’s shoul- 1 ! der. “Blanche, this want of confidence between us ; has gone on too long already. Let me tell you my trouble;” and then she poured forth her j story, owning all that had passed between Bert and herself. She said her father had taxed her I with it, and solemnly declared, should she refuse , Horace Dent, he would cast her off forever. "He said I should never again enter my home: my little sister should never know or hear of me,” concluded the girl, in bitter grief. “ My darling girl, you ought to make up your i mind yourself. I cannot help you, but I’ll | stand by you in heart and voice in whatever ' choice you make. ” Maybe it cost Blanche an effort to say this, 1 but she said it bravely. There was to be a grand ■ J bal masque in town on the 25th of August, and i that fateful day at length arrived. Our quar- [ i tette were going, and two carriages were in wait ing at Belleville to take in the masqueraders. , Blanche first appeared arrayed as a Spanish girl. ; Her false black curls were half hidden by the folds of black lace that hung from the tall, pearl I comb on her head. A heavy train of yellow silk swept the floor. Viney followed in a pink dom ino to be discarded in the dressing-room. Handed into one of the carriages by a moorish magician, Blanche was soon whirled away. ••Darling, it is in your power to put an end to all this trouble and strife,” spoke the magi- ; cian in well-known tones. Poor Blanche ! her heart beat wildly, and then * stood still. “It is Horace, and he takes me for Vincy.” Then, making a convulsive effort to steady her voice, she spoke: "I am Blanche; I am sorry vou made the mistake.” But no answer could Blanche give. His voice sounded as if it come from an unreason able distance. The rumble of the carriage- wheels over the smooth road seemed like heavy cannonading to her excited nerves. Then the carriage suddenly stopped, and guessing where they were, her head whirled and her heart stood still. “My brave Blanche, be yourself,” Horace whispered; “ you have but one moment to decide. Will yon marry me, or do you refuse me, here and now ? Answer me !” and his voice was low and hoarse. Excited, frightened as she was, she could not keep back the whimsical reply that rose at once to her lips: “How can I get married in this black wig?” Without another word, he lifted her out. "God bless you, bonnie Blanche,” said Bert at her side, and the little pink domino clung to her neck and whispered blessings, while Horace hastily untied her mask, and threw back the heavy lace vail. “Vincy,” Blanche said, w’hile her own voice had to herself the same far-away sound—“Vincy, one of us must elope to-night, that’s plain. I think it is rightfully your place, not mine.” “ No. no !” said Viney, shrinking back behind Bert's shoulders: “ I caunot—I dare not!” “Come, said Horace,” and queenly Blanche swept up tlieehurch beside him bravely, though her face showed deadly pale beside the glowing gold of her dress A few solemnly-spoken words, a few low responses, made them one till death. Then Blanche walked with Vincy into the little vestr-yroom to put on the traveling dress that wily young lady had provided when she fainted quietly away on the stair-case in the comer. However, they reached the ten o'clock train in time, and Bert and Vincy bade Mr. and Mrs. Dent an affectionate adieu, and then went home to “face the music.” We will not describe the scene that followed when our young couple went in, finding the old people quietly enjoying the evening breeze on the piazza. Mrs. Carroll showed no surprise or disquiet ude at the news—no doubt having been taken into the plot by Mr. Dent. Uncle Carroll stormed, of course, but made no objection to Bert taking the bridegroom's place on the coming wedding-day—remembering that he himself had spread everywhere the report of his daughter's approaching marriage, and pride whispered it was the only resource. So he soon learned to bear the disappointment with tolera ble philosophy, and Mrs. Carroll was a Arm ally of Bert. So, on the night of the first, there was a grand wedding at Belleville,—Vincy looking the per fection of earthly beauty in her floating clouds of white tulle and orange-buds, and Blanche (who had returned, of course,) regal in trailing folds of satin and glistening pearl—a more be coming costume altogether than she had worn the week before at the altar of St. John’s. It was a nine-days’ wonder, of course; but the change of grooms was considered satisfactory, and the brides looked none the less lovely. Booth, Surratt, Jackson. I The Washington correspondent of the Augusta, i (Ga.) Chronicle & Sentinel, in a recent letter, says: However much John Wilkes Booth may have ! erred in assuming the assassin’s role, for which j good men must in all time denounce him, there ! is no doubt that his distorted intellect made | him believe that he was performing an act of | patriotism. While Booth has been severely ani- I madverted upon from time to time by Southern j journals and people generally for his rash act, i there are those in the North who regard him as ! “a^great hero.” A young New York lady stated | to me that she revered the memory of Booth, and would freely give her own life if she could j call into being the young actor. “I would es teem it an honor to kiss his foot were he alive,” she exclaimed. I met a Christian statesman the other day, and asked him if he could in form me where Mrs. Surratt was buried. “In deed, I cannot, sir,” he responded. “The killing of that woman was murder, and all the waters in the Potomac could not whiten the souls of her murderers.” “But were you not in the Senate at the time, sir, and might you not have interceded for her poor life?” I asked. “Judg ment had fled to brutish beasts, sir, and it would have taken a man of more courage than I possessed to have even suggested that she be pardoned,” quoth the ex-Senator. John Surratt married a Virginia lady last year, and is now teaching school at a village in Maryland, about twenty miles hence. Miss Surratt married a treasury clerk, but immediately after the nup tials he was dismissed from the department. The daughter of Jackson, who shot Col. Ells worth for tearing down the Stars and Bars from his hotel, is a clerk in the Postoffice Depart ment. She received her place through the in flnence of Col. Mosby. Some time since she was discharged, but upon hearing of it, the President — put this down to his credit —in structed Jewell that this worthy young lady was to be retained as long as he was President. I guess Miss Jackson will not oppose a third term. Wabts may be removed, says a celebrated phy sician, by rubbing them night and morning with a moistened piece of muriate of ammonia. They soften and dwindle away, leading no such mark as follows their removal with lunar caustic. A colobed organization in Dayton has decided ! to forgive its clergyman for betting on three- card monte and losing $90 of festival money. ! One of the deacons remarked: “We is all hu man, and the game is werry exciting.” Unbounded patience is necessary to bear not i only with ourselves, hut with others whose vari- ' ous tempers and dispositions are not congenial with our own. Jealousy is only the art of tormenting your self for fear you should be tormented by an- j other. INSTINCT print