"I tell you, dear Jenny" he said, "I would like her to be resigned and hopeful, but not remarkably lively,—you understand?"

"Very well," said I, "I shall exhort my sister to endeavor to poise herself midway between joy and sorrow. I shall tell her that, while I am to try very much to amuse her, she is not to be at all amused."

"Heigho!" began poor Dashwood, with a rueful face, "what a time I shall have with my attachéship! What long, long hours I must endure before I can be with you all again!"

"But you two are determined?" I asked.

"Determined! I tell you no word in the English language can express the firmness of our purpose. Determined! death cannot part us. Mr. Rushton, your estimable father, is, I am happy to say, only a feather in our estimation, Mrs. Barbara a mere puff of wind, Mrs. Braxley a mop to be jumped over on our way to church."

"And uncle Joe?"

"Pooh-small potatoes," said Dashwood with an air. I was not then aware that uncle Joe had deserted the family party, and gone over to the enemy. Such knowledge being considered, by his friends, as highly dangerous to circulate, and as calculated to embitter the domestic peace of that most worthy man.

Papa was highly pleased at Dashwood's appointment; and Tom Farren delivered quite a speech upon the occasion. Poor Robert declared that he had rather part with his right hand than with Frank, but he added, "If I thought it necessary to amputate my right hand, it should be cut off, and I would try and do with the left." Mrs. Barbara inquired where St. Cloud was, and if Mr. Dashwood was likely to meet with a very dear friend of hers, who had gone with her husband to Rio. If so, would he be kind enough to take charge of a steel bag, and a pair of button-hole scissors, which it seems, that friend had left at Mrs. Barbara's on her last visit.

Mamma hoped he would not be shipwrecked, or robbed, or caught by the Inquisition, or, above all, go over to the Pope.

Robert hoped he would write some telling letters to the Star, and let people know what he was about.

During this visit, which was about a fortnight before Dashwood's departure, papa took him kindly by the hand, and led him into the library.

"My dear young friend," he said handing him a seat, and then settling down in his large leather chair, "I am extremely

gratified at this appointment; I am your friend, though I have never flattered you -perhaps your best friends do not flatter you. Well, Mr. Dashwood, the last conversation we had in this room was not a very pleasant one, but I must beg that you will continue to bear it in mind."

"There is no danger of my forgetting it, sir," said Dashwood quickly.

"What I said then I repeat to-day; my daughter must not be troubled by your proposals."

"I have no proposals to make to the young lady, sir."

"I hope not. I have other views for my daughter, Mr Dashwood."

"So you have taken the trouble to inform me very many times, sir."

"And I wish it distinctly understood.” "I am quick at apprehension, sir." "That I oppose the affair in toto. The long engagement, the promise to wait until you make a fortune, the idle notion about congeniality, and all the foolish visions which have flitted across the brains of all the foolish lovers in the world. I tell you, fortunes and great names are not so easily made. I tell you, every young man of talent is not bound to succeed. I tell you the most strenuous actions are not always crowned with success - that our most ardent wishes had better not be realized sometimes. Bless my soul, suppose all my wild visions had been realized! where would I have been now, in the name of common sense? Suppose I had married my sister's pretty governess for whom I was actually run mad a whole year! Bless my soul-we had better leave these things to Providence, Mr. Dashwood. Young ladies of eighteen, and high-spirited fellows of twenty-two, had better not take their destinies into their own hands. I tell you it is wrong-morally wrong; and you will thank me for all this, some day, if you live-indeed you will."

"My dear sir, I do not blame you for refusing me your daughter's hand; I esteem you for it. I esteem all her friends who have her interests so much at heart. Time can only prove what we are. If I were to say to you now, that ten years hence, I shall be this or that, you would laugh at me. Very well, I say no such thing. But I say nous verrons."

"Exactly-nous verrons. You go off to a foreign court, young, and unfettered by promises, you will come back with a little more knowledge of men and things. Exactly sir, nous verrons."

"Thank you, sir. I shall return to bid your family farewell, with your permission," said Dashwood rising.

"Certainly-come by all means. I

shall be happy to see you. Good morning," and papa opened the door, and shook the hand of his guest, with much cordiality.

"Mrs. Braxley brought Louise home, and in a few days Dashwood came to pay his last formal visit to our family.

Now, poor fellow, his "jests and gibes" were gone. He could no longer rally and be gay. The laughing lip quivered, and the lustrous eye, with its comic fire, was filled to the brim. Once or twice he made an effort to be himself, but it would not do. The light spirit was trailing in the dust, the quick retort and happy repartee were stifled, and the merry laugh no longer rang around the family circle as in the bright days which were flown. Louise was never alone with him during this visit. Papa was all attention to his guest, and Mrs. Barbara and suite mustered about him. My sister went on careless, indolent, and calm. Papa marked with pride the same lofty air and graceful ease-and he thought the dreamer dreamed no more. Dashwood strove to emulate her in her perfect show of insensibility; but he hadn't the self-command of the imperious Louise. And from the filmed eye, flushed cheek, and nervous, restless manner, one saw the anguish of his manly, loving heart, and pitied him for the struggles he so bravely made.

The hour was coming-coming with pulsating step, when these two, so different, and yet so united, were to part. Louise stood calm and clear, under papa's eye, waiting to say farewell. Mrs. Barbara stood looking on, as Dashwood, after shaking every body by the hand, turned firmly and steadily to Louise. He took her hand, and not a tear, or faltering word betrayed the mighty strength of that love which so many had tried in vain to

sever.

Louise bade him "God speed" in a clear, unshaken voice, and he made his bow, and left us standing in the hall. I saw him brush away a tear as he gathered the reins in his hand-and I saw him wring Robert's hand as though his heart was breaking, but this was all I saw.

My sister, as though to test to the utmost limit the great strength of her poor woman's heart, remained standing some fifteen minutes with papa and mamma in the hall. And though she felt that all eyes were upon her, she never faltered or quailed, but stood conversing with them carelessly, as though nothing had happened. Papa took his hat and stick, and walked out. Mrs. Barbara returned to her knitting, and Mrs. Braxley to her snuff, and Louise walked carelessly

away.

But in her quiet room her woman's nature triumphed. Here, the pent-up tears flooded the lustrous eyes, and she fell upon my neck, and yielded to the luxury of unrestrained emotion. Here, the woman's nature shone forth in all its strength. Here, the calm and placid girl shivered with emotion. Here, poor Louise threw off the outer garment of proud insensibility, and sobbed convulsively, and prayed, and refused all comfort and all hope. She drew from her bosom his miniature, and a bit of poetry which the guarded lover had scribbled off for her eye alone, on his last visit. As some evidence of the talents with which poor Dashwood was gifted, I transcribe it for the reader.

FOR MY LOUISE.

Well, we have met-nor have our eyes
Revealed the secret they could tell,
Nor blushing cheek, nor faintest sighs
Betrayed the truth we knew so well.
A mystic chain between us lay,
In airy links, unseen and still;
From heart to heart its fairy way,
Electric in its mighty thrill.

A breath, a tone, a careless note,
Would vibrate on each magic round,
In airy circles surely float,

Reaching the heart with lightest bound.
Oh Love! how subtle is thy power,

How wonderful thy changing ways,
Compressing years in one short hour,
And making dreary, summer days.
Louise-ah! should I never come

To claim each promise, and each vow;
Keep them, my darling, for our home,
All star-lighted above us now.

Keep them, Louise, all pure and true,
Keep them-ah, I'll wait them there;
Keep them-nor utter them anew,

Nor breathe them, save to Heaven in prayer.
Keep them-nor tell them save to Heaven,
In stilly hours, where none are near;
The jealous spirit floats at even,
Perhaps such precious vows to hear.
Once more adieu!-my heavy heart
Goes on its weary way alone:
Since loving, trusting, we must part,
"Twere better quickly, coldly done.

And parted! oh! the bitter tears,

And fears, which loving heart ne'er flees,
And midnight vigils long as years,

And days-all wanting my Louise!

"Oh, he is gone, Jenny-gone-and all is blank!" cried my sister, her heart realizing anew the full extent of her sorrow. Somebody tapped gently at our door, and Robert came in, and threw himself upon the bed and wept like a child. He drew Louise to him, and whispered to her, and laid her stricken head upon his bosom, and these two children of prosperity sobbed together over their first sorrow.

"Jenny, you must help me to take care of this poor little thing. We must stand by her, sister Jenny, through thick and thin. We must console her, and minister to her in her grief, for she is a ten

der creature, Jenny, and we must shield her for his sake;" and then our gentle Robert wiped his eyes, and kissed her, and tried to be cheerful and stout of heart. "There's a better time coming, little sisa happy time coming. The sun does not always shine, little sis, and clouds and darkness are quite as useful as the sun. Come, Louise-cheer up, my pretty pet. You can be brave, I know. Come, little sis, remember all is for the best." And Robert took her in his lap, and with tears in his eyes, talked of being strong and brave.

Dear mamma, with her mother's instinct, came gently in and sat down by her suffering child, and spoke like one who had suffered and had endured. After these little outbursts of uncontrollable emotion, Louise recovered her usual calm self-possession, and we sat in our little room-the indulgent mother, and her children, talking in the twilight until tea time. Robert was chief spokesman of course. Under all dispensations, he was voluble and wise. He was always kind to those in trouble, and was never more happy than when in sad, chastened hours, he could hang about mamma, and caress her, and fondle about her, like a child. I need not say that this handsome, tender son, was the pride of my mother's heart. Robert declared to mamma, upon his honor, that Frank Dashwood was the noblest fellow in the world. And he took that opportunity to favor Louise and me with such lectures on matrimony, as few debutantes are privileged to hear. My brother said if a handsome woman married a rich fool, who would lavish every dollar he had upon her, she might be happy, provided she possessed none of that exquisite delicacy which was the first charm of her sex. Provided, also, that she had no conscience-not a bit-no generosity-no pride-and had been pinched by poverty all her life. To such women money was happiness. He said his sister Louise, with her reserve, her modesty, her delicate nature, her extreme sensibilities, could not be happy with Tom Farren. Because Tom Farren was such a machine of a man. So severe, so stiff, so formal, so built up in his own rectitude, so hard and common-sensible, "that he would break this regal flower of ours, mamma, in less than two years," said my brother earnestly. "Her beautiful eccentricities would be harshly put down-her tears would be childish-her whims unbecoming, and all that. I know Tom Farren-every body must bend to him. He is a walking model in his own estimation, and every body must walk exactly by his rules. And I know Dashwood. I

have tested his heart and soul. He is chivalrous, magnanimous, glorious. Let him succeed. Let him-God bless himcome back renewed and re-established, and I will be responsible for this dear girl's happiness."

"But, my son, your papa knows best." "We will not discuss the subject," said my sister with dignity, and the supper bell rang merrily, and we obeyed the

summons.

Poor Robert had a difficult task before him, viz., to storm the library and sound papa concerning Mrs. Blanton. Papa was remarkably cautious and reserved. He had treated Mrs. Blanton not only with marked respect, but sometimes playfully, and almost affectionately. But this was no proof that he thought her worthy of his son. There were not many who could aspire to that honor. Papa thought Robert destined for great things, and Robert thought Mrs. Blanton was on the very pinnacle of greatness.

Mrs. Braxley, who was staying with us, expressed herself as being glad that Dashwood was gone, and wished Mrs. Blanton could receive an appointment of the kind immediately. Mrs. Barbara repeated for our edification, that she had no opinion of widows with little boys, turning out their shoulders, and stripping their arms, and coquetting with every green-horn in the whole country; and went on with string after string of anecdote, illustrative, and forcibly bearing upon the subject in hand, with divers catastrophes and horrible denouements, of a startling and extraordinary nature. Mrs. Braxley had collected a budget concerning the widow in her dippings. She had learned from some of the mop sisterhood that she had made the deceased Blanton see sights.

"Didn't I tell you all so?" inquired Mrs. Barbara, looking around. But none of us remembered her ever having intimated to us that Therese had made her husband see sights.

Mrs. Braxley went on to say that the late Johnston Blanton had died of yellow fever in Mobile, it was true, but she understood that his system had been previously undermined by a train of nervous disorders, brought on by jealousy, for which, it seemed, Mrs. B. had given him sufficient cause.

"I'll be bound she did!" broke in Mrs. Barbara. "I'll be bound she aggravated that man to death. Why I have known more people aggravated to death," said grandma, with open eyes. "Gracious!" Of course nobody disputed this alarming fact.

Mrs. Braxley still running on, undis