Aunt Nollie had (“waned is (Many thing. 0! hambum and rï¬bbon and lace. And “mun Ind sold. :5 she settled it 'round Our beaumul Bnby's hoe, \Vhero the dimples flu and the laughter lies Lite qubeuml bk! :1 he: vlolet. eyes- “ It the day lsplemut and Baby is good. She may go to church and wear her new hom Then qu. aged 9‘. boson to toll. nu vluv.'v. â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€" ' .7..,, How very. very good one must be If she went to church uexc day. 116 told of the church. the choir and the crowd, And the man up in Iron! who talked so loud ; Bu: 9110 must not talk. nor laugh. uor sing. But )ust alt as quiet as anyunug. . And 99.01179 be‘ay‘tiyul Sabbath in May. , u..-‘ â€.5" “nmnvu all“ nu. uu I. wwuuu-u. â€"._--._._V V , When the bud-burst into t!uwors.' ' (There wasn't a blossom on bush or tree n p, 2.. .U. n.:.. I‘In-cI‘I-i n' nnrm ‘Auuuv Iiuuâ€" . ... .. So fair as this blossom of cum. All in her white dress. dainty and new, Our Baby sat in the family pow. The grand. sweet music. the revorom air, The solemn bush and the voice of prayer Filled an herpuby will with awe. :.‘\A “L“... I; ".2; :Bé's‘icviï¬â€˜ï¬o} iiitlo place. And the hqulpok tpgtz_t:ho a‘ngol's wear u... mun Au“ tuu nun; u"... ..._.- .â€" Seemed pictured upon her face And the sweet words uttered so long aeo Came into my mind with a rhythmic flow ; " 0! such is the Kingdom of Heaven." said lie, And I knew thst He spoke of such as she. ' Theggveet-[oic‘e‘tiregnan peeled forth again. ._ L. n... .anJ 1H0 nuuy u-uyl-vu u..- V-“ And smiled at the chinking sound. Alone in the choir Aunt Nellie stood, Waiting the close of the soft prelude, To begin her solo. High and strong 8110 struck the ï¬rst note, clear and long uuu B‘Iwr-vnu.“ v.....u. I -V†,V , The collection box came round. Thejlapy (1509de her penny in. - -L- -\.1.-\»inn uni!“ She held it, and all were charmed but one, “7110, with all the might she had. Sprung to her little feet. and cried : “ Aunt Nellie, you's being bad .' " The audience smiled, the minister coughed, The little boys in me corner laughed. The tenor- nan shook like an aspen leaf And hid his face in his handkerchief. And poor _Aun_t rï¬ellieAc‘ould never tell _ ,,. A___:|.QA "5-...“ auu lru'v nuuy.‘v-..v _v_-_ __V Howlshe ï¬nished that terriblé étrain. But_s_uys_mat nothing on earth would tempt .. A,_.4|_ ALA ...... nanin uus on a bun-u uv-_-__ -â€" He’r to go through the sceuo again. So. we have decided paths )3 'tis best, For her sake, ours and all t a rest. That we wait. maybe, for a year or two. Ere om‘ Baby re-entet the family pew. A Story of Love, Blusic and Adventure. Silent, absorbed. motionless as the stone against which he leaned. he stood bending down his head upon the old pedestal. halt buried as it was in clustering vines and shrubs. when the sounds of a‘foo‘tetep fall- uv ‘4ku ..__- sadâ€"her cheek pale. and tears glittered on the fringes of her dowucaeb eyes. She came nearâ€"she passed by without raising her head. and as he felt the air gently stirred by the flutter of her robe. the blood retreated to his heart. and but for his low and hurried respiration. he might have been mistaken for the “ marble genius†of thgplace. . p II,___I L-.. ._-L_-..L..... mg lightly on the path which wound through the deserted garden caused him to look up, and then to gasp for breath. as through the thick foliage he saw the lovely ï¬gure of Ianthe approaching the place be occupied. Her step was slowâ€"her air ,I:LL___.I A‘. vâ€"vr ..... Eagerly his gaze followed her retreatmg form as moving through the shrubs and trees aha approached the tower and diaa‘meared within it: ngrrow portal. Ihwu me mpulso A, n_|IA_ L-.. . Ln} uuu ur‘u‘ouu_-_ -_- e within its narrow portal. Ibwu ehelr‘npulee‘ -tha act of a momentâ€"to follow her ; but rapidly as he did so, when he stood beneath the arched doorway she had passed up the steep and winding stairs from eight. He hesitated whether to ascend after her. tor as he placed his foot. on the lower stair an invisible hand seemed to hold him back. and a voice to whisper in his ear: ‘ " w" -â€"-‘L--mkn":flht “ Whither goeat thou ? and by wha dost thou pursue her whom thou k: it wrong to seek. and to whom tln voluntapi13' hiddon ‘8.- last farewell ‘2‘ v -n _......._l VOIUHIfll’II)‘ Uluuuu .- u...â€" __._- . But the temptation, all powerful and unexpected as it. wae,eould not be resisted, and springing lightly up the narrow stairs, he stood in an instant. breathless on the landing place above. __ _..... kn‘nvth him hl‘lt -wâ€"râ€"a Ahnlt open door was before him, but wanting courage to pass through it, he paused irreeolute. longing yet trembling to cross the threshold of the chamber hallowed byrthe presence of her he loved. While he ,__.1 I:..A....nil fnr nnmn nnnnd $11 Dun , up. w Irv“ â€"â€" -_ In elder-brutherly wny. Dy (ua pluncuuo v. u... ..- -_ . __V 7 yet lingered and listened for some sound to greet him from within. a low sob. min- gled with murmured words of prayer met his ear. and yielding to the emotions which rushed like a flood of ï¬re upon his heart. he hastily entered. and stood in the centre of the email apartment which crowned the summit of the tower. But he saw nought that it containedâ€"nought save the kneeling ï¬gure which. prostrate before a painting of the Virgin. poured out in hitter agony her secret soul. '1‘ be blended hues o! twilight fell like a rich mantle around her person. illuminating her upturned face. and radiating like a crown of glory irom her brow. investing her with such unearthly radiance that Guiseppe gazed upon her with tender awe. almost persuaded he beheld in the angelic being before him a celestial visitant. supplioating for mercy on the sins of trail and erring humanity: _ q ,..r_-_L “Aaddinn andnr‘ THE PASSIONATE VIOLINIST: uumuuuy. Her brief and earnest petition ended. she rose. and drawing a letter from her bosom. approached the window. and etood in the rosy light to read its contents. That letter was his - ownâ€"ï¬lled with burn- : L|-;.-J an- LA 1|.qu “law; we... u... - ing words of passion, and blotted as he Wrote. with tears of love and of despair. He now saw here {all test upon the sheet. he saw her press it in an agony of tender sorrow to her lips, and then hiding it in her bosom. sink upon a seat and wee convul- ‘ sively. It was a sight to unman t e stout. ‘ est heart. and to one that loved and eufl'ered like Guiseppe‘s the ï¬rm resolve of pru- deuce was at once' forgotten. Love. deep. ardent. grateiul. devoted. triumphed over every other thought. and springing from the obscurity in which he stood. he cast himself with passionate words for ardon at the {set oi the weeping girl. Vith a faint shriek she sprang swiftly to her feet. and overcome by surprise and shame was turning to tly. when he gently caught her robe, and raising his pleading eyes to her blushing face. murmured in earnest tones: " Leave me not. sweetest lsnthe. new that my cruel destiny for a moment relents in anting me yet to behold thee. whom I glow not it 1 was ever more to see." He felt her hand tremble violently in his as he spoke. and he could perceive that she still we t. as faintly struggling to do art she I in silence with her averted ace bowed down upon her hands. " Thou desirest to go from me." he said, sadly. " and whereiorethen should i seek to detain thee «wherefore. since with vain [1.51 In (Jill rch. it‘hou ? and by what right her whom thou knowest and to whom thou hast was before him,b}1t r"--*-s source ot-ihypqzotiou 1'". presumption I have misinterpreted the true ,,__ .1 AI.-- AMA.:I\" ‘1" 5 my".-- “ Sayest thout so. my beloved? Ah, yes! let my lips utter the language of my soul in thus addressing thee," he said. “But if this doom indeed impends over us. God forbid that we should part. Vainly I believed that I could yield thee up for everâ€"that I could go forth from the place made blessed by thy presence. and live on through weary years of absence. sustained only by the memory of thy beauty and thy love. But now thatI gaze on thee againâ€"that I listen to thy gentle voiceâ€"â€"that I see thine eyes beaming on me With love and pity, I feel how weak are my resolvesâ€"-mere ropes of sand which the strong waves of passion scatter into fragments and destroy. Suffer me then to remain near thee, and banquet daily on the smiles whose sweetness is my life's elixir. since. if exiled without a hope of return, from thy dear presence. I must pine and die like a plant cut off from the sun’s light and warmth, in whose genial influeuee it grew rejoicingly and bright. Ex -‘nuU-v' v.--_ -_ -_-, to: to. u... by 5.. {£24 a» “use- us... .._. ‘ brave the fearful anger of my uncle. Should he but learn what are thy thoughts 1 towards me. and that I â€"-"â€"she hesi- tated, blushing and embarrassedâ€"“ that I 3 have listened to .thy words, ill would it . fare with thee. and ill with me. for then ‘ thy only safety would be in flight. while my punishment would be an enforced marriage with one I love not, or refuge for life Within the dark walls of a convent." " Thou wilt notâ€"must not submit to tyranny like this, sweet Ianthe,†said Guiseppe. eagerly. “ Art thou dear to this proud uncle of thine. and will he sacriï¬ce thee to his vain ambition ‘2 Permit it not. I pray thee. but remember. if indeed thou dost bestow on me the blessing of thy love, remember that we stand as yet on life's ï¬rst threshold. with golden promises and glad hopes beckoning us gaily onward, and shall we thenâ€"it is for thee to sayâ€"shall we turn from the sunny path stretching bright ‘ and far before us. because a shadowy form, . which we. with love‘s courage may subdue. . sits frowning at its entrance? Forbid it. heaven! that such should be our coward- ice ; be thou but firm. and nought on earth shall daunt my purpose or destroy my hope; I will wait and watch. and labor and achieve. till I have earned a right. which if thou sanction it. none may gainsay, to demand thee of‘thy guardian for my own." U. ml Lu.“ H WOW-1w..â€" “ And i}. ogevi'ehtnette; 'even so.“ aaid Ianthe, withytrqmblipg egrugstness; “ bet- .A..._. uh-.. _.‘ uumuuu uucu VI. In] huâ€"-_.._,- _ “ Vein and plausible reasoning of love." said Isnthe, with a and smile; “ but if thou deemest it will weigh eught. with my aspir- ing unole. thy true knowledge of him is. as yet. but limited indeed. Already he hath promised my hand. and looks upon my future fate as sealed. While yet a mere child. he contracted for me an alliance with the son of an early friend, a powerful noble of Venice. land but a. few months are. now to elapse Al_.'_ I...A.u1 an excluuuuu . " And thou hast consented to this union l and now then wilt submit to it. renouneing every dearer hope. rather than provoke the anger. or reeiat the Will of thy unjust and arbitrary relative l“ “ The time in not long past when [would l have done no." she fluid. with a flitting blush ; " when I heard it spoken of unmoved, and looked forward to its consummation with ealm indifferenceâ€"when in the lud- ‘den chambers of my heart the deep loun- taina of feeling and nil'ection nlopt as yet untroubled, and all within was peace. the trusting peace of childhood. content with present blieeâ€"learlene of coming ill. But - . .i, -. Ill.- |...ol. .m nlmmrml tn preuuuu ununâ€"u;..-....... v- -rrï¬n " now. oh now! that life hath no changed to me its anpect,tlxink you I would not. sooner welcome death. and gladly ten. than yield assent. to chill when-ed and dreaded union !" uu-vu ller lovely eyea bathed in tears. and the tender earueatneun of her ilnpennloucil eeeeme, dispelled the lam. eeruple ol pru- dence that lingered in the mind of the youthful lover. and subdued by her grief. and terriï¬ed M the though}. of her becom- ,_:‘I. -II Ohn tum anulrluuu no "In vuvu ing mothers. lIo oxolMIIIod, witiI All tho impotuoaity of nIIxioua and excited tooling: u Iur- .‘ .I I .. All amen â€Inn llllllflhuunuo’ un nun-v..." ....‘- ....7 7 _' “(Ionfldo In my love and 1 will mwo than hom thia threatened Into; tor. if thy \mclo, deaf to thy outreaflos. pcraiat in anorinolng pm thee to his ambitious schemes. I will. it thou permit. bear thee hence. secretly. it it must be so, rather than leave thee with one to whom thy true happiness is as nought when put in competition with the worldly aggrandisement which his aspiring wishes coVet for thee." “ What sayest thou ?" exclaimed the startled girl. pale and gasping with emotion. .. Dost then ask me to fly wrth thee! clan. ‘ deetiuely too ‘2 And whither. whither could We go. it indeed it comes to this. to ï¬nd a shelter in our wanderings ?" H To a peaceful and a happy. though a humble home." he answered. soothiugly ; 1 " to the arms of a tender mother. who will bless me that I bring to her adaughter, for which dear gilt. her heart hath over yearned." “ Ah! it would be sweet to know a mother's love!" said Ianthu tenderly. " But that fair dWelliug of thine early days." she asked with thoughtful look. “ is it not far away? Thou hast described it- to me so often that it seems familiar to my mind. and sometimes. too. 1 have visited it in sleep; aye. but the past night only. I dreamed that I sat with thee in that small garden chamber which overlooks the blue Adriatic. and heard the song of the boat; ilueluunv. uuâ€" -.vâ€"-.. __v .7, . man mingle wnth the sweeter melody o! thy instrument. while we looked forth and numbered the golden stars as they came out one by one from the dark depths of the sky." A LI.»L .I_-_“. -0 Ul UH“ Du; s “ It was an omen, sweet, that dream of thine, of what shall ere long be to us a reality," said the delighted Guiseppc. " Ah! for thy sake. I would I could bear thee to a palace, and shrine thee amidst such objects of beauty and of luxury as now surround thee, and which only the omnipotence of wealth can purchase. But, alas! I can offer thee only an adoring heart, ï¬lled with thy image, and consecrated to thy dear service. and a home of simplest comfort. brightened by content and peace and hallowed by the virtuee and affections of those kind parents who have made it to me a_paradise of love." 2“ _-_ L- -l..._.r ‘l‘n‘ mu .- ru-uu-u' -_ -- . “ Ah ! it would be happiness to share that home, so quiet and so calm, with themâ€" with thee." she murmured, blushing as she spoke, at the full confession which her words involved. " I love not pomp,†she added, " and shrink from the display, the eclat, and the splendor of the life to which my uncle would condemn me; but yet, to sever thus the tie that holds me to his heart I cannotâ€"dare not so repsy his kindness. I were an ingrate ii I did, when years have shown the tender loveâ€"the fond and cease- less csreâ€"with which, for my dear mother's sake, he nurtured me." “ For her sake, then, if not for thine. he still should seek thy happiness," replied Guiseppe; and if he doth, there is no cause for flightâ€"nor would I name it to thee. but for the haunting fear. that when our love is known hlB anger will enforce our separa- tion, and efl‘ect for thee without delay the hated union which shall render is eternal !†«4 ninmmn that. fear." she said. “ for it is “ Diemxss that fear," she said, “ for it is groundless. My hand, no less than my heart, is at my owu disposal, and neither without my own free consent shall become the property of another. Though in all things else my uncle may control me, in this he never shall; and if unjust power is used to cone’trhin me thou hast named a. way by which I may preserve inviol-w We “-v--_ .. ,_____ -LALm," ..----_. -. â€r .. inc " . “And than u" ~_‘~v.-. «sync-t vi. ur' asked Gulaeppe. wnth trembling anxiety. “I will. indeed." she answered ï¬rmly. hut. “r. ralllntantlv. “and not until I ï¬nd asked 'Guiaeppe. with we " I will. indeed." she a. but yet reluctantly, “and escape from an enforthd aible." UIUIUI " And to decide this thou permittest me to name my hopes to thine uncle without delay. and to ask. even now, though faint the prospect of obtaining it, the precious been of this dear hand," he said, as he clasped it fondly in his own. “ Alas! I know not," she replied. with a troubled air. " It were in truth better to learn our (ate at once, but yet I dread all that may follow thy avowel, for I fear there is little hope from my uncle‘s clem- ency, his purposes are so resoluteâ€"hie will so ï¬rm. and this projected alliance hath so long been viewed by him as an event of whose ultimate fulï¬lment no doubt could exist.†“ Thy words ï¬ll me with terror l" exclaimed Guiseppe. his passionate eyes ï¬xed tenderly upon her. "for they threaten the extinction of that dear hope which this van.-. “ Thy words ï¬ll me with terror!" exclaimed Guiseppe. his passionate eyes ï¬xed tenderly upon her. “for they threaten the extinction of that dear hope which this hour hath sprung up in my heart. to bloom there ever. as I iondly thought. in the glad ‘ sunshine of thy angel smile. Ah! I cannot seeit so cruelly destroyed. and I pray thee. let me still cherish it in silence and in secret. still see thee day by day. and breathe to thee when no ear is by to listen. the deep undying love with which thou heat inspired me. Patiently will I await the hour when I may dare to claim thee openly. and till then â€"â€"." I-.-“ .1 “A.“ n... “cannon at Ullculy. uuu u-u v"-..- A low rustling sound frém the passage at thuï¬ moment startled the lovers, and Gui- noppe logwing Ins sentence unï¬nished, both , .A u.-:.. l...“ mldln Hmir Hulllm lunvnuï¬ â€u. ,.v_.,_____ sprang in alarm to their feet, while theirl throbbing hearts seemed suddenly to pause l as they turned in uncertainty to listen. But all was again still without. and then once more the same sound. as if some one cautiously descending the stairs, met their ears. Pals and agitated. Ianthe, with clasped hands sank trembling on the seat. while Guiseppe touched by her silent agony, and unable to endure his own suspense, whispered her to await his return Without (ear. and rushed out to discover. if possible. the intruder. ‘ 9-‘7 L- -..£LA-J UIIU luvruuun. Though the apartment which he quitted ‘ was still illuminated with the golden twi- ‘ light of that delicious clime. the landing place and the narrow winding stairs were involved in utter darkness. save where a few rays struggled in through the small loop holes with which at intervals the thick walls of the tower were pierced. tor the pnr oso, doubtless. both of defence from wit iin, and also of lighting the ascent to its sumit. But wellacquainted with the localities oi the place. Guiseppo found his way without difliculty down the rough stairs. descending them with cclerity in order to overtake it possible a figure which he was almost certain he saw Ilying before him as he proceeded. But it seemed to elude his pursuit. and like sbme shadow form to Hit rapidly on as he approso ied. till. on reaching the bottom of the flight. it vanished altogether. he knew not how or where, from view. Disappointed. he stood beneath the low brow of the portal. looking anxiously around him u on the glowing world with- out. as beanti ul it lay. bathed in hues of radiance. while the young moon with her ; stimulant planet. the lovely star 0! the v.4 enfordadï¬ marriage impos- evening, hung in mild splendor among the orimnou glories of the want. How peeoelul and how calm the sceneâ€"how touching and how holy the contrast which it oflered to the disturbed tumultuouu world within him ! And as he gazed. he lelt rebuked by the blend and may smile of Nuture'u hoe, into quiet truut null resignation to what- ever leto the great Diupouer of the future might hnvelyet in atom for him. . X“ Al... -...:.. After llnéering a. few rninutel in the vein expeetatinn of dieeoverinu the individual. whom he felt convinced had been both an eye and ear wituenn of hie passionate inter- view wrth lunthe. he turned away and retraced hiu steps to the upnrunent in whieh he had left her. and where he found her in trembling apprehennion uwaitinghin return. \ Without imparting to her hie conviction that their conversation had been overheard. he strove to calm her learn by hie tender and soothing Words; and when comforted by them she regained her self poeeeenion, he yielded to her wishes and led her with u lover’e care down the long flight of stone ntepn to the garden. though had he con. eulted his own. he would gladl y have lingered with her in that old lonely chum- ber, till the moon quenched her Heft light in the Bronte. At the door of the tower nhe beeonght him to leave her. leet Home watchful eye should be observing them ; but he pereiewd in conducting her to the extreme limits of the tangled garden. and there. in compli- ance with her entrenties he lelt her. but not till they had mutually agreed that their love should remain secret for the present; since in the ï¬rst intoxicating moment of its acknowledgment to themselves and to each other neither felt that they had courage to endure all the evil in which its more open avowal might involve them. And so they parted. and though {or a brief interval as they fondly thought. yet lingering and sweet was that ï¬rst farewell of the new-made loversâ€" he leaving her oft and then as olt returning to told his treasure to his breast. and thank God in silence for the blessing of her love. And when at last with sweet low words of chid- ing she broke from his encircling arms and fled away, he stood watching wrth delight her airy ï¬gure, as with the swiftness of a timid fawn she sped along the path and it disappeared in the distance from his view. Then with a sigh more rapturous than sad he slowly turned to retrace his homeward way. % Uuobservant of every surrounding obiect he passed on through the mazy garden lwalk, till he arrived right opposite the old 1sun-dial. when pausing a moment on this spot, which was ever associated in his mind with the image of Iantne, he was startled on beholding the ï¬gure of a woman sitting beside the fountain. and gazing listlessly upon the silver-drops that trickled from its basin. One glance sufliced to tell him whose was that brilliant iorm seated now in quiet sadness on the earth, and in no mood to encounter either the_tender or sarcastic Bullies of the Countess Bertha. he was gently passing on. hoping to escape unobserved, when he heard his name audi- bly pronounced. and suddenly springing _ - . , ‘ 77 7 A, _‘ A 1T6, siB'EéGEï¬Ã©Ã©Ã© iriifiew stepsfanti paï¬sea proud and erect before him. Yea. haughty was hex: air,_ and _aoornful the curl qt her vermflllaauwkalg Ekauï¬emfla‘a'slafefé nu. v; the stealthy listener of the tower. “ "‘L “‘ "‘“"l-‘v‘“,‘r.ebnmeJLPHm-%ifll 4- (BL-.- ...an.)|-5 tag“ a n . abruptly. “and I searkgmfvefm'tu} desire to do so, since few voluntarily seek the presence of those whom they have wenwnly wounded by their ingratitude." .. r “1.. n “m aninnnm- H I deserve not wantonly wounded by their ingratitude.†" Lady,†said Guisepps. “ I deserve not the reproach implied in thy words. con- scious as I am that I have never failed to appreciate the kindness of which I humbly confess myself wholly unworthy.†" Ingrats l" ejaculated the Countess.with flashing eyes, " how hast thou shown thy appreciation of it?â€"â€"how, but by display- ing towards me a coldness and indiï¬srâ€" ence which seemed intended to rebuke the foolish interest I have expressed in thy wel- farel“ " Lady." he said. “ thou hast mistaken deference for coldness. else â€"â€"." “ Nay," she interposed, with passionate emphasis, " I know nought of these ï¬ne distinctions; I have stooped to invite thy conï¬denceâ€"thy friendshipâ€"and thou hast not only withheld both, but hast used towards me the basest and most unpardon- able deceit." “Thou art severe beyond my deserts, "ma...“ " mid Guisenne. “ since volunta- u Nay," 81 emphasis, “ distinctions . confidenceâ€"‘ “Thou art severe beyond my 0638mm, madam.†said Guiseppe. “since volunta- rily I have been guilty of no deception, for the secret this morning revealed to thee by chance was scarcely known to my own heart till the moment of its betrayal to another." “Thou fear-est not to confess to me, then. this guilty passion which thou art nourishing to be thy ruin 1" she exclaimed, with ill suppressed rage; “thou dost it boldly, too. and without a blush of shame for having stolen into the affections of a silly child. whose ignorance of the world made her an‘easy prey to thy endeavors." -_.._:|.. an thn on the returned the Counteen quicklyz. "aye. thy duty and thy safety also to avoid her now and ever. for love her an thou may. pureue her as then wilt. elio never can be thine." “ l’erehance not," bald (:‘uieeppe. with an calm a tone us he could aeuume ; “ but Wherefore must I forever shut: her. ae though my very preeenee Were a baneful influence ?†“ It would he wieor no to do than linger with her an thou haet thin eve in the cham- ber of you lonely towvr.†fluid the Countess. " Yet think not." him added. “ that I have watched th ntepa; like thee. in my twilight walk 1 ntro led hither, and trunting to find Ianthe where it in oft our wont to sit ‘ together, I climbed the ntono stairs to the top of llugo'e turret. but on the landing place I wait nturtled by the murmur of low voiceu within the chamber, and pausing. 1 recognized thineâ€"4h) paenionatc accents and here, Holt an the voice of love. The words reached not my ear. but how, uttered in those tone». could I doubt their import? I sought not to hear themâ€"wherefore uhould I? but turned to fly. when the met- ling of my armente caught thy notice. and thou ruehe forth to detect the intruder. My foot. however. wae fleeter than thine. and l eluded thee. but concealed amid the thick nhrubbery I awaited thy re-appear- anoe. and noon 1 eaw thee pane by with Ianthe. Knowing thou must return by the fountain. I eat beeide it till 1 heard thy etep, and now etand before thee to warn thee of thy dangerâ€"to entreat of theeaethou regardeet thy eafety or thy welfare to think of her no more. or only no the pupil whom thou art bound to instruct according to the bent of thy ability in the Heience thou dost profess to teach." “ 'l‘hy counsel doubtless is wise. lady. and given in friendship, and therefore it demands my gratitude and thanks." eaid Guieeppe. " And thou wilt let it proï¬t thee ?" she asked anxiously. ‘ “ it should do so." he said. with heei- tation. ‘ â€And must!" she exclaimed, “if thou ‘ would’et avoid peril. Knoweat thou not ' that fromher cradle the Lady Ianthe has - been the afï¬anced bride of another, and that my brother's honor is involved in the - certain fulï¬lment of the contract? And _ were it not so. he bath the blood of an ancient race in his veins, and the pride of 1 an exalted station in his heart. both of which will forbid him to bestow his favorite niece upon one destitute of the outward gifts so_ all important in his eyes. .1 :__ if--.‘ 14...; atâ€... Elli!“ uv a..- -mrv_-ï¬__ “ Believe me. should he learn that thou hast dared lavish one tender thought upon the child 0! his adoption. so implacable is his nature that he would not rest till he had pursued thee with his vengeance to the grave. Aye! to have this known would be to ensure thy misery and rum, and to bring a bitter curse upon that orphan girl whom thou hast taught to forget her duty, and the obedience due to him who hath been to her a father." “ God forbid that I should cast one shade of sorrow over the brightness of her happy life!" exclaimed Guiseppe, shuddering at the fearful picture drawn by the artful Countess. of the evils to result from his presumptuous love. "Ah! may peace and joy dwell ever in her heart, whatever are the sufleriugs or mine. Singly I can bear unemnmt to bring ...-.-..._..._- ........ rm. were Worse to me than death." ....!.‘.Fenennce than. Wowsnmnemhom will be well; yes. after one faint struggle, well for thee and for her.†said the Countess in a softened accent. delighted at the effect her words had .produced upon his excited mind. “Sacriï¬ce not." she continued, “ the bright promises'of the future to a boyish passion, which for aught thou knowest is destined to expire as suddenly as it was Kindled. Ianthe is but a child. and withal a ï¬ckle one, whose unformed tastes render insecure her girlish choice. since a more extended knowledge of the world may teach her that the beau ideal of her young imagination, in u... “at not 17118 Deuu luucu u; uv. JV.._D _# U , spite of her early penchant. has not yet been realized." “In truth, madam. were my self-love prone to be flattergd. it would ï¬nd but A L _. “n-3, n “In truth, madam. were my Belt-love prone to be flattered. it would ï¬nd but alight food for its ofavinga in thy words." said Guiseppe, slightly piqued by her insin- uation. “Yet the Lady Ianthe'a wishes shall â€"â€"â€"." Be courageous and noble-minded ; our own heart. and not other men‘s opinions of us, forms our true lichenâ€"Schiller. Owing to the rapid increase in number of speculative matrimonial. birthday and short endowment insurance companies in the Southern States, and the activity dis. played in establishing agencies northward, the Insurance Commissioners of several western States have issued circulars warn. ing the public against these schemes, and giving notice that persons acting as agents will be prosecuted for violatingthe insurance a‘n‘nn ann- uv r-v.. -__,- laws of the respective States. No need of baby farms in India. A cor- respondent writes to the Indian Pioneer: “ The wolves are carrying 01? children at a terrible rate. A poor little child was taken away and eaten (only the lower part of one leg being found) from the lines of the 27th Punjeub Infantry a. short time ago. Another child was carried off and eaten (only the head being found) from the door of the house of a. poor. old. half-blind coolie. Last night on eysh'e child was carried off from inside a. wellcd inclosnre in en ofï¬cer's compound. the wolf jumping over two children and taking a third lying close to its mother, who. poor creature, ron shrieking after it. The children are appar- ently always seized by the throat, so their 74 .__L l.---:I " Vuv-a “-mh, cries are n t heard." ' London alters by leaps and bounds. An enormous reconstruction is now projected. The new law courts, which are asserted to be an architectural glory of the city. are to have elbow room to display their beau- ties in. For that purpose Clement's Inn, Dane’s Inn. and the block of buildings including Wyck street and old Hollywell street are to be swapt awaï¬. and with them St. Clement‘s, Dane's G urch. which always ï¬gures in drawings of the neighbor- ing Temple Bar. The s ot is full of social and historical interest. r. Justice Shal- low lived as a student in Clement’s Inn, and used to sally out thence for a lsrk with that other scapegrace. young Jack Falstaff. Defoe lived in Wyck street. Dick Steele lodged there. Mistress Nell Gwynne lived at the corner. and the house still stands where the witty and pretty Irish actress used to sit With the merry monarch and chaff the corner boys below. (To be continued.)