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barter of their plate for Molly’s, which leaves them an undivided profit, contrive to clear the table. Presently, Molly having refused languidly some delicate steaming cakes of Sarah’s own making, that damsel leaves the room in high dudgeon, and Molly leans back in her chain “ Tell me again, Letty, what you wrote to him," she says, letting her eyes wander through the window, all down the avenue, up which the postman must come, “ word for Word.” “ Just exactly What you desired me, f‘dezu‘," replies Letitia, seriously. “ I said 1 should like to see him once again for the old days‘ sake, before he left England, which I heard he was on the point of doing. And I also told him, to please you,” smiling, “ what was an undeniable lieâ€"that, but the children, I was here alone.” “ Quite right," says Miss Massereone, un‘ blushingly. Then, with considerable impa- tience, “ will that postman never comer‘f’ All country posts are irregular, and this one is not a pleasing exception. Today, to Great), aggravation. it is at least one good halflhour later than usual. ‘Nhen at length, however, it does come, it brings the expected letter from Luttrell. “ Open it quicklyâ€"~qu'1ckly, Letty,” says her sister, and Letitia, hastens and reads it with much solemnity. It is short and rather reckless in tone. It tells them the writer, having effected the de- sired exchange, hopes to start for India in two weeks at farthest. and that, as he had never at any time contemplated leaving Eng- land without bidding Mrs. Masseroeno good- bye, he would seize the opportunityâ€"ahe be- ing now alone (heavily (lashed) â€"to run down to Brooklyn to see her this very day. “ Oh, Letty ! toâ€"day I” exclaivms Molly, pal- ing, and flushing, and paling again. “ How I wish it was toâ€"morrow I” “ Could there be any one more inconsistent than you, my dear Molly? You have been praying £01 three wholeweeks to see him and, now your prayer is answered you look abso- lltely miserable.” “ It is so sudden,” says poor Mofly. “ Am] â€"â€"â€"he never mentioned my name. What if he refuses to have anything to say to me even now? What shall I do then f)” “ Nonsense, my dear I “When once he secs you, he will forget all his ridiculous pritle, and throw himself, like a sensible man, at your feet.” " Indeed I would not,” says Letitia, indigv nantly. “ What. after writing that lie I No, you must of course see him yourself. And, indeed, my dear chik ”--laughingâ€"â€"“ you have only to meet him, wearing the lugubri- 0'15 expression you at present exhibit. to melt his heart were it the stoniest one in Europe. See”â€"dmwing her to a mirrorâ€"“ was there ever such a Dolores ?" “ How can you be so foolish ?” says Miss Massereeno, reprovingly. “ Of course, if he dines he will be in the humor to like any- thingI like, and I love meringuos. But if notâ€"if nowâ€"with a heavy eighâ€"“ you can eat all the meringues yourself." “Dear, dear 17’ans Letitia. “ She is really very_ bad.” Almost as the clock strikes two, Molly en- ters the orchard, having given strict orders to Sarah to send Mr. Luttrell there when he ar- rives, in search of Mrs. Massereene. She has dressed herself with great care, and very becomingly, being one of those people who know instantly, by instinct, the exact shade and style that suits them. Besides which, she has too much good taste and too much good sense to be the slave of that ty- rant, Fashion. ” I am glad to see you looking so W011,” 110 says. gravely, perhaps reproachfully. r ‘va am sorry to see you looking so ill,” re‘ plies she, softly, and then begins to woudcr what on earth she shall say next. “ It was too foolish a letter to answer,” re- turns she. hastily, detecting the drop of acid in his tone. “ And, even if I had written then, I should only have said some harsh things that might have hurt you. I think I was Wise in keeping silence.” “ I wish I could think so, Letty," tem‘fully, and in a distinctly wheedling tone, ” wouldn’t you ispgakrto him ‘2” “ Perhapé he will takeuthe‘ very first train back_t0_London,” my; Molly, still gloomy. “ Perhaps so. Still, we must be profm'ed for the worst”â€"wickedly. “ Therefore coal: and I must consult. I\lolly"â€"~pnusmg at the, doorâ€"“ you have exactly four hours in which to make yourself beauliful, as he cannot pos- sibly be here before two. And if in that time you cannot create a costume calculated to re- duce him to slavery, I shall lose my good opinion of you. By the bye, 1\.lo]ly”â€"ear- nestly, and with something akin to anxioty~ “ do you think he likes meringues ?" As she does so. as she meets him face to face, all her nervousness, allher inward tremb- ling, vaniahes, and she declares to herself that ‘victory shall lie with her. “ I knew that ; and the lie was mineâ€"not Letitia’s. I made her write it because I was determined to see you again. How do you do, Teddy ?" says Miss Massercene, coming; up to him, Smiling saucily, although a little. tromu- lously. ‘ Will you not even shake hands with me ?” ne Seeing her own forlorn visage, Molly in- stantly laughs, thereby ruining forever the dismal look of it that might have stood her in such good stead. “ I suppose he will dine," says Letitia, thoughtfully. “ Idlinusfi gq speak to cook." There is a. \vondurful sweetness in the airâ€" a freshness indescribable-12 rare spring par fume. Myriad violets gleam up at her, white and purple, from the roots of apple-trees, in- viting her to gather them. But she heads them not; they might. as wall be stinging- nettles, for all the notice she bestows upon them. Or is it that the unuttemblo hope of her own heart ovorpowcrs their sweet ness ? All her thoughts are centred on the im- pending interview. How if sh? shall fail after all ? What then ? Her heart sinks Within 1101‘, her hands grow cold with fear. On the instant the blankuess in her life in such a case spreads itself out before her like a mapâ€"the lonely pilgrimageâ€"the unlover journey, without companionship, 01' warmth, or pleasant sun. shine. He takes her hand, presses it coldly, and dropg it again} almst instantly. Mr. Luttrell, with lllfi cane. takes the heads off two unoffending crocusos that, most mp wisely, have started up within his roach. He is the gentlest-natured fellow alive, buf he feels a vicious pleasuro in the decapitation of those yellow, harmless flowers. His eyes are on the ground. He is evidently bout on si- lence. On such occasions what is there that can be matched in stupidity Willll a man .9 “ I got your letter,” Molly says, awkwardly, when the silence had gone past bearing. “ I know.” “ I did not answer it." . “I know that, too,” with some faint bit’wr- Here and there the fruitâ€"trees are throwing out tender buds that glance half :hrinkingly upon the world, and show a d»:an to nestle) again amidst their leaves, full of a regret- that they have left so soon their Wit; - sin-tors. Then she hears the click of the garden gate, and the firm, quick step of him who comes to her up the hilly path between the strawberry- beds. “ You here !” he says, in tones of displeased surprise. “I understood from Mrs. Masse- reeno you were at Hersh. Had I known the truth, I should not have come.” Drawing a deep breath, she shrinks within the shelter of a friendly laurel until he is close to her ; than. stepping; from her hiding- place, she advancus towards him. He has grown decidedly thinner. Around his beautiful moulh a line of sadness has fallen, not to be concealed even by his droop- ing moustache. He looks five years older. His blue eyes, too, have lost their laughter, and are full of a settled melancholy. Alto- gether, he presents such an appearance as should make the woman who loves him re- joice, provided she knows the cause. ’ Whén he sees her he stops short and grows extrgfnely pale. V f‘ You were. ButvI cannot see how you have [CONTINUED FROM FIRST PAGE.) followed up your wisdom by having me here to-day.” There is a little pause, and thenâ€" “ I wanted so much to see you,” murmurs she, in the softest, sweetest of voices. â€"â€"A rough backwoods preacher, discoursing on the text, “These that have turned the world upside down are come hither also,” announced as the points of his sermon : “1. The world is wrong side up. 2. It must be turned upside down. 3. We are the chaps to do it." Ho Winccs, and shifts his position uneasily, but steadily refuses to meet her beseeching eyes. He visits two more unhappy erocuses with capital punishment, and something that is; almost a sigh escapes him ; but he will not look up, and he will not trust himself to an- swer her. “ Have you grown cruel, Teddy ‘2” goes on Molly, in a carefully modulated tone. “ You are killing those poor crocusos that have done you no harm. And you are killing me, too, and what 11:er have I done you ? Just as I began to see some chance of happiness before us, you run away (you. a soldier, to show the white feather I), and thereby ruined all the en- joyment I might have known in my good for- tune. \Vas that kind ?" “ I meant to be kind‘ Molly ; I am kind,” replies he, huskily. “ Very cruel kindness, it seems to me.” “ Later on you will not think so." “ It strikes me, Teddy,” says Miss Masseâ€" rcene, roprovingly, “ you are angry because poor grandpapa 0110.90 to leave me Horst.” “ Angry? Why should I be angry ‘3” “ Well, then, why don’t you say you are glad ‘2” “ Because I am not glad.” “ And why ‘2 For months and months we were almost crying for money, and when, by some fortunate and unlocked for chance, it fell to my lot, you behaved as though some overpowering calamity had befallen you. Why should not you be as glad of it as I am ?” -â€"Two members of the Galway Blazers, an Irish hunting club of local distinction, bet 3250 on the jumping quality of their horses. In the trial Mr. Power’s Ruction cleared a railroad embankment, with a descent of fif- teen feet, and won, although the rider of Mr. Bodkin‘s Droolen was ready to take the jump over a. wall that had aperpendicular fall of 25 feet on the other side. â€"â€"Londmn Truth :â€"â€"“Turkvy, in the political signification of the word, consists of a horde of greedy, hungry pachus and bloodsuckers, who want Europe to provide them with the means to indulge in the foul debaucheries in which they delight, and whose financial mor- ality is about on a par with that of professional swindlers in a gambling hell.” “ Don’t speak like that, Molly,” says Lut- troll, with a groan. ” You know all is over betwem us. The last time we met in London you yoursle broke our engagement, and now do you think I shall suffer you to renew it ? I am not so selfish as you imagine. I am no match for you now. You must forget. me (it will not be clilllcult, I dare Say). and it would be a downright shame to keep you toâ€"to “ Then you condemn me to die an old maid, the one thing I most detest ; while you, if you refi se to have me, Teddy, I shall insist on your dying: an old bachelor, if only to keep me in countenance.” ' “ Think of what the world would say.” “ Who cares what it says ? And, besides, it knows we were eugnged once.” “And also that we quarreled and parted.” “ And that we were once more united in London, where you did not despise the poor coneerbsiugel‘. \Vel‘e you not devoted to me then, when I had but few friends? Were you ashamed of me, then .7” “ Ashamed of you !" “ Once you threw me over,” says Molly, with a smile that suits the mouth, being 11qu tears, half sunshine. “ Once I did the same by you. That makes us quits. Now we can berriu all over again." “ Never mind the-money. What do I care Whether I am rich or poor ? I care only for you. If you go away I shall be the poorest wretch on earth I” “ My angel I My own darling girl 1” “ No !”_nwi_th__a little sob. “ Say, ‘my own â€"Prussin has eighteen pnsons for tramps a 1d vagrzmts. In 1871 there were 4,600 com- mitments to those institutions, but the num- ber has increased every year, and for 1878 was 9,000. Of these 8,000 were men and 1,000 women. They cost the country @650,â€" 000, but earned while in duranca $575,000. “ See, I am asking you to marry me,” says Molly, misng dewy eyes to his, and blushing one of her rare sweet blushes. “I beg you to take me. If, after that, you refuse me, I shall die of shame. Why don’t you speak, Ted<1_ 9 Say, ‘Molly, I will marry you.’ ” “ 0h. Molly l” returns the young man, gaz- ing down on her despairingly, while his strong arms hold her fast, “ if you were only poor. If this cursed money ” “No”«running her hand into her pocket, “ at least, not an engagement ring. You may get me any other kind you like, because I am fond of rings ; but I shall have no betrotha, ring but the first you gave me. Look”â€"draw- ing out a little ease, and opening it until he sees Within the original diamondsâ€"his first gift to hepâ€"lying gleaming in their rich new sitting. “ These. are yours; I saved them from the fire that day you behaved so rudely to them, and have hai them reset.” “ You rescued them ‘2” he asks, amazed. “ At the risk of burning my fingers; so you may guess how I valued them. Now they are purified, and you must never get into such naughty temper again. Promise l” “ I. promise faithfully.” “ New I shall wear it again,” says Molly, regarding her ring lovingly. “ under the hap- pierâ€"oh, how much huppierwcireumstances. Put it on, Teddy, and say after me, ‘dm‘ling Molly, pardon me for having compelled you to ask my hand in marriage I” “ I will now-"laughing. “ You must. You are my property now, and must do as I bid you. So you may as well begin at once. Sayit, sir, directly.” He says it. “ Now you know what a horrible henpeck- ing there will be for you in the future. I shall rule you with a rod of iron.” “And I shall hug my chains.” “ Think what a life I an) condemning you to. Are you not frightened? And all because â€"I cannot do without you. Oh, Teddy," cries Molly Dawn, suddenly, and without a word of warning bursting into a passion of ” Indeed I will; becausoVa‘II my friends are yours, and they will think as I do.” darling wife !‘ ” “My own darling wife !” replies he, con- quorrgd. “ Then why don‘t you kiss me ?" says Miss Mnsseroene, softly, her face dangerously close to his ; and Tedcustle, stooping, forges the last link that binds him to her forever. “ Ah !" says Molly,prosently, laughing gay- ly, albhougll the tears still lie wet upon her cheeks, “ did you imagine for one instant you could escape me? At first I was so sorry I almost determined to lot you goâ€"as punish- ment; but afterwards”~n1ischievouslyâ€"â€""I began to think how unhappy you would be, and I relented.” 7‘ Think of what all your friends will say,” says he, desperately, knowing he is losing groupdi bqtrstillpprsisting. W Two little tofirs steal from under her heav- ily-fringed lids, and run down her cheeks. Going nearer to him, she lleSltates, glances at him shyly, llcsimtcs still, and finally lays hel: head upon rhis shoulder, Of course, when the girl you love lays her head upon your shoulder, there is only one thing to be done. Luttrcll does that one thing. He instantly encircles her with his arms. “ Then I suppose I must now buy you another ring for this dear little finger,” says ho, snuling, and pliessipg it? to hisrlips. cries word tears. arms long tears, and flinging herself into his willing arms, “ are you not gladâ€"glad_tllat we be- long to each other again ‘2” “ Time, will Show you how glad,” replies he, softly. “ I know now I could not have lived without you, my sweetâ€"my darling!” THE END. Who-whoop I indeed. Three more sports- men have by this time arrived, one over and the other two through the fence, which stlll hides the rest 0! the field from our eager gaze. Soon a. gate opens, and some half a dozen more, including a couple of black HOLMBY HOUSE. But nevertheless, rather too muggy a day for an elderly gentleman nearly fifteen stone weight to walk up such a hill as that ; so we rested on our stick, mopped our heatedbrows, and leaned our back against the stem of a fine old oak tree that stands within a stone’s throw of the wall surrounding all that is now left of the ancient palace of Helm by. We own to the practice of day-dreamingâ€"“ moon- ing,” it is called by the irreverentâ€"and we were soon lost in the long vista of the past, threading the labyrinth by help of that de- lusive skein which we were pleased to term history, taking up one end at the period at which we supposed this oak had been planted; and so winding it gently off from the Wars of the Roses to the jelly days of “ bluff King Hal ;” congratulating it on its inland position, which saved it from forming part of that fleet Whose thunders helped to destroy the Invincible Armada, speculating on its size and luxuriance in the peaceful time of the crowned wiseacrewhom Scottish parasites termed “ gentle King Jamie ;” and thinking how fervently its beauties must have been appreciated by his ill-starred son, to whose charge want of veneration could never have been laid as afault. ” Here,” we thought, " beneath these venerable arms, under the stately shade, how often has the unfortunate Stuart, the martyred Mon Halloh ! what is that ?â€"the note of a hound, as we are a living sinner and a gouty one ; but gout or no gout, we haven't seen hounds for a twelvemonth ; we must hobble on and have a look at them once more. But stay, there’s their fox lâ€"a beaten fox, by all the beauties of Diana 1” and forthwith we gave vent to a prolonged and, we rather flatter ourselves. not unmusieal yell, which we should despair of conveying to the reader by any other means than oral demonstration. \Ve used to pique ourselves upon doing it rather well, and with one finger in the ear and a ruhicund wellâ€"fed physiognomy, the efiect is, to say the least of it, imposing, if not harmonious. Yes, there he was, stealing along, his back up, his fur draggled, tangled, and black with mire ; his brush drooping, his tongue out, his long knavish countenance wobegone and in- dicative of thorough physical exhaustion, his whole instincts so intent on his pursuers that he scarcely turned aside at our salutation~ there he was. deadbeat, and running short for his life, not a covert or an earth within two miles of him, and the best pack of} hounds in England running frantic for his blood in the next field. See, he has nearly reached the old oak tree l one, two, three white hounds are through the fence, the rest following, like a stream set free from a dam. 3 How they strain across the ridge and furrow, 3 their bristles erect, their sterns lowered, their Ihungry eyes flaring out upon him with in- stinctive hate ! He is creeping quite slowly now ; but as Harmony and Fairplay near him he turns and shows a long ominous, gleam- ing set of teeth. Over they roll, all three together. Marplot and Marygold are close upon them, hounds tumble over each other in hungry confusion, a crash is heard in the fence, and Charles Payne is off his horse in another moment and amongst them. A faint strident noise, like that of a smothered saw, grates upon the ear above the stifled “ worry,” “ worry,” of the hounds, and ere Charles, the pink of politeness, has time to touch his cap to ourselves (for he takes us for the person, and therefore a stench fox preserver, if not pursuer), he holds him high up in the air, and with aloud “ Who-whoop,” proclaims the conclusion of one of those “ best runs of the season” which occur at least once a fortnight. The Pytchley hounds have had a run. Io triumphe I The Pytchley hounds have killed their fox. Once again, Io triumphe ! Not that these are unusual events with that well- ordered and efficient pack, nor that the estab- lishment is more than commonly exhilarated by success ; but that such runs as this last do not occur oftener than two or three times in the season, and deserve to be recorded accord- ingly, It is a curious mania, that fondness for hunting which prevades the rural population of Great Britain, from the peer to the peas- ant, and which we alone of all their progeny seem to have inherited from our Scandinavian ancestorsua mania that outlives love, friend- ship, literature, money-making, all the de- vices of poor human nature to squander its most priceless possessionâ€"time ; and which seems to flourish only the more vigorously when the health and bodily strength indis- pensable to its enjoyment have passed away for evermore. We, too, in our “hot youth,” were once inoculated with the malady. and its seeds have never since been thoroughly era- dicated from our constitution. There was a time when our heart used to beat thick and fast at the first whimper of a hound; when the color mounted to our check, and our eye glistened brighter, as we watched the gorse shaking above the busy pack ; when the life blood coursed quicker through our veins as We listened for the distant “View-holloa” pro- claiming him “away !” and the mad eques- trian revel really about to commence. Then it was ecstasy to be borne along at speed by a gallant, generous horse, himself giv- ing and receiving the mutual pleasure en. hanced by so confiding a partnership ; to thread with calm dexterity the rushing caval- ade, and reach, unhalked by restlve steed 0r undecided rider, the spot we had marked out many a stride back for our own. Large, black and formidable, hand, seat, and eye combined to land us safely on the further side ; and then, with tightened rein, head up and hands down, to speed away after the streaming pack, good friends and true to right and left. but not a soul between ourselves and the hounds ! Alas, alas! “post equitcm sedet am; cum,” she can cling even to the Sportsman’s scarlet, she can keep her seat even over a Northamp- tonshjre ox-fence; but though the good horse curry double, he feels not the extra load, and the rider’s heart must indeed be heavy if it can ache at moments such as these. As the penitent highwayman remarked to the chaplain at the gallows-foot, “Oh, I r“- pent unfeignedly of my sins, but yetâ€"a gallop across a common ! you dog, it was deli- cious !” So now, though the days of our pilgrimage are in the “sore and yellow leef;” though boots and breaches have given way to flannel bandages and fleecy hosiery, Whilst gout and rheumatism warn us that wet days and “wet nights‘7 are equally dangerous to our physi- que : though our quiet cob, once the property of a LOW Church bishop, is getting too much for us, and is coveted inwardly by our oldest grandson, who already considers his own Shetland pony “hardly up to his weight,” we have still a. hankering after the golden joys of our our youth, still a sneaking kindness for the tops and the scarlet, the creek of the whip, the echo in the woodland, and all the appliances and accessories of the chase. “ What a hunting day l” we remarked aloud to our walking-stick, as we climbed the hill painfully towards Holmby. and stopped to admire for the hundredth time the wide ex- panse of beauty and verdure stretching far away beneath our feet for many a mile to east and west, dotted here and there with noble standard trees, and. shut in by the dark stately woods of Althorpe that crown the ris- ing ground to the south. “What a hunting day l" a sky of dappled grey, a balmy breeze just wooing into existence the hundred buds and beauties of early springâ€"a day to have gathered the first peeping violet “long, long ago.’ Eheu fugaces ! What’s a violet, with no one to give it to ?â€"-day of beauty and pro- mise, a. day such as George Herbert so charm- ingly describes : Sweet duv, so cool and calm and bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, Sweet dews shall weep thy full {yo-night, For thou must die. ;__:_”:. THE OLD OAK TREE CHAPTER I‘ “She’sa.1way§ right, that old bitch,” re- marks Mr. Villiers, who has just turned Olympian’s head for an instant to the wind. “ Yo-geote, old lady I” says Charles, in the inexghcgbk} language of a huntsman. Thank Heaven ! a check at last. Pegasus was beginning to want it sadly. He struck that top-rail uncommonly hard, and has dropped his hind legs in the last two con- secutive ditches. There are still some half- dozen men with the hounds, but their horses look as if they had had nearly enough, and we are inclined to believe 'one or two of the riders are beginning to wish it was over. The country for miles back is dotted with equesâ€" trians of every rank and every hue. A child on a pony has turned, not headed, the fox. Charles Payne opines he cannot have entered the gorse with so “warm :1 jacket,” as he phrases it; so he holds his hounds towards the plantations on his right. Fairplay Whisks her stern about her sides, and drops a note or two to her comrades as they gather to thel line. coats, make their appearance. There are a good many still coming, and a large propor- tion of the original field that will never get here at all. No wonder; the pastures of Northamptonshire are full of them ; they are scattered all over the country. Those Who have arrived look wild and heated, and in. tensely pleased with themselves as they jump off their exhausted horses, and talk and laugh and gesticulate ; the While Charles Payne throws the fox to the hounds, with another encouraging “ VVho~Vvhoop l” and the clamorous baying of expectancy is ex- changed for the “ worry, Worry, worry," of fruition. “ Had a good thing ?” we inquire of the first whip, who is appeasing a differ- ence as to a tidbit between Countess and Caroline. “ Carpztal thing. sir." replies that affable functionary, whose cap and side are plastered with mud, and who looks as pleased as if some one had given him a hundred pounds. “ Oarpital thing, sir. Brought him from Sulby gorse over the finest part of our country ; never checked but once, down by Cottesbrooke ; never touched a covert the whole blessed while 1 It’s eleven miles if it’s a yard, and I make it exactly an hour and fifteen minutes from the time I “ holloaed” him till we run into him in this here grass field just atween your revorence’s legs. Whoop, my darlings l Worry, worry, Worry! tear him an’ eat him 1” Cigars are lit con- gratulations are exchanged, the bay horse and the brown horse and the chestnut horse receive their due share of praise, a reflective flattery somewhat in this wise: ‘I-Iow well hecarried you, old fellow ; and what a stiff line! 1 was close to you the wholctimc 1‘ From different versions and many contradictory statements we gather a tolerably correct notion of the run ; and as- its glories gradually flood our still enthusias- tic imagination, it is with a pang of regret that we reflect we shall never see gal- lops such ,as these again. So, “on we go again,” leaving “Tally-ho Gorse” to the left, and up the hill for Hazel- beeeh, threading the fine old trees that tower upon its heights, and pointing ever onwards for the Wide grassy vale of Cottesbrouke, spread out like a panorama before us, shut in by wooded hills, dotted with fine old standard trees, and smiling beauteous and peaceful in the chequered light of a February sun. ‘Couldn’t get near enough if there was. Come up, horse. !’ mutters Charles in reply, as he bores through a black close-cut hedge, sinking ‘ up to the hooks on the taking-oil side. There is no chance of a. check now ; and as the professed' jester of the Hunt remarks ‘If he don’t stop at Tallyho, he may go on to Texas !’ The field, that enterprising body, whose self dependence is so touchineg illustrated at every sign-post, are already somewhat hopelessly behindhend and considerably puz- zled by the coincidence of two safe precticw ble lanes, leading equally in the direction of the line of chase. It divides accorilingly into two hurrying colums, neither of which will. in all probability see a hound again to-day, \Ve were there in spirit, nevertheless; we know every yard of the country, every field and every fenceâ€"though we can practise it no longer, we think we know every move in the game. We can fancy ourselves astride of a. good horse by the side of Jack \Voodcock as he views the fox away from the low corner of the gorse. What a long, wiry, tough-looking animal it is, with a. white tag to that hand- some brush, which, as he steels across the neighbouring pasture, he Whisks in derision, as much as to say, ‘Gallop away; my fine fel- lows l according to your wont ; hurry and bustle, endjump and splutterl The har- der you ride the better for me l’ ‘Tally-hc !’ shouts our friend Jock. erect in his stirrups. ‘Twang’ goes Charles Payne’s horn from the middle of the gorse. Already the owner of the covert is coming best pace around the corner. Trust him not to lose his start, and to make good use of it when he has got it. In twos and threes the hounds are pouring through the boundary fence ; ten or twelve couple are settling t0 the scent ; the rest, with ears erect, are flying to the cry. Now they stoop together with collective energv, and drive along over the grass in all the mute ecstacy of pace. Some of them began to hope he may have entered the thick holding covert of Naseby Thorns, and that the conclusion of so rapid a burst may save their own and their horse’s credit. But a countryman on the op- posite hill is holloaing as if his throat must crack. Our fox is forward still ; he has not a notion of entering the covert, warmed as he is by the merry pace of the last mile or so. A Burst Such as this is pastiufe fo} the gods !7 It sobers our imaginary steed, our pen-and- ink Pegasus ; he drops quietly to his bridle, and aturn in our favor enables us to pull him into a. trot, and to look about 11s. Sewn or eight men are in the same field with the hounds ; halfa. dozen stiff lences and a cou~ ple of miles of grass have shaken off the larger portion of the field, but they are even now coming through a bridle gate not far distant in therear, and should a. check un- fortunately occur at this critical moment, they will be up in plenty of time to do lots of mischief still. Butno ; the packis streaming on. ‘Forward,’ says Charles Payne, cram- ming his horn into its case, and gathering his horse for an oxer.‘ ‘Forward !’ echoes Mr. Villiers” doubling‘ it neatly on his right. ‘Forward 1" adds Mr. Oust, cracking the far-rail as he swings over the obstacle in his stride. ‘Line ’ shouts a. Meltonian at an unfortunate aspir- ant whose horse is swerving to the thickest place in the fence. ‘Serve him right 1‘ re- marks the ‘Meltonian to himself, landing safely in the next field, While the aspirant rolls headlong to the earth. Jake Woodâ€" cock, With an amused smile, slips quietly to the front. Three or four more men, one in a black coat, enter the field at diflerent points ;that quiet gentlemen over not through the gate. A loose horse with streaming reins gallops wildly after the chase ; and the hounds, with a burning scent, are pointing straight for Naseby Field. And now every man hugs his trusty hun- ter by the head, and spares his energies as much as possible, ere he onâ€" counters the yielding soil of that classic ground. Many a tired horse has Naseby Field to answer for, from the thundering battle steeds‘hf the Cavaliers, led by hot Prince Rupert, to the panting thorough-breds of Jersey and Allix, and Cooke and Knightly, and the heroes of fifty years ago, who urged the mimic war over that eventful plain. Ay, down to our own times, when although the plough has passed over its marshy surface, and. draining and high-farming have given secure footholdr to man and beast, many a sobbing steed and dejected rider can still bear witness to the exhaustive properties of that black adhesive soil, many a dirt-y coat and stationary hunter rues the noble impulse that would follow the fleeting pack over such a country as this after a. three days’ rain. « ‘No occasion to lift them, Charles,’ 0b- serves Mr. Villiers, as he lends an ear to the far-off countryman, and points to the stream- ing pack Wheeling with every turn of the scent, like pigeons on 1119 wing. “ Drinking the King’s health overnight.” remarked one of the servingqnen, with a leer at his comrade. “ Liquor and loyalty make sleepy heads in the morning ; is’t not so, Will ? Thou wast ringing chimes in the but- tery thyself, lad.” “ The knight is late this morning,” r0~ marked the falconer, a man of few words, and Whose whole energies were wrapped up in his profession ; “ and the Wind is changing even now,” he added with an anxious glance at the heavens, whilst “ Diamond" stirred un- easily on her perch, jingliug her bells, and moving her hooded head from side to side with characteristic impatience. “ Twang" goes the horn once more, and away score the hounds through “Purgar’s Hills,” as if they were fresh out of the kennel, and over the wide grassy pastures below. and up the opposite rise, with untiring energy, leaving the foremost horseman toiling a field and a half behind them, till a pause and mo- mentary hover in the VVelford Road enables Pegasus and his comrades to reach them once more. It was a. glorious morning for the sport. The sky was clear and blue, softened here and there with light dappled clouds ; dewdrops sparkled in the sun from thorn and briar, while the earth exhaled new life and fra~ grance from her teeming bosom, moistened but not saturated with the late genialrain. How blithe and glndsome was the lark’s shrill song as he mounted cheerin into the sky, such a speck against that glorious fathomloss blueâ€"hcw soft and mellow the sunlight on the uplands-â€"how sweet the perfume of the free fresh air lâ€"sight, smell, and hearing all gratified at once. What a morning for hawking. or indeed for any manly, vigorous. outâ€"ofâ€"door-pursuit. It is labor and sorrow now, yet it is a, sweet and joyous pain. Still, we can hardly call that enjoyment which we wish was over ; and most devoutly now do we all hope that, we may soon kill this gallant fox, before he kills our gallant horses. The best blood of New- market is but mortal, after all; and Pegasus is by this time going most unreservedly on his own shoulders and his rider’s hands. Down the hill between Creaton and Holy- woll we make a. tolerable fight ; but though Olympian clears the brook at the bottom, the rest of us flounder through. \Ve have no false pride now, and do not any of us turn up our noses at gates or gaps. or other friendly egress. Everything is comparative. A country doctor on his fresh hack, meeting us at this period, opiues We are going quite slow, but we know better; so does Pegasus, so does 01d Fairplay, so does the fox. “ Let them come,” said the stout 01d knight, “ with their purses in their hands. My Lord Vaux, my Lord Montague, my Lord Goring, Colepopper, Garnarvon, and the rest, within fifty miles of this spot-41y, within the bounds of Britain itselfâ€"Peer or Puritan, Cavalier or Roundhead~always excepting the falcons of his most blessed Majesty. Lat them come with their hawks, every feather of ’cm, and ‘ Diamond’ shall have a. flight at them all 1” He is not travelling so straight now. Up and down yonder hedgerow the pack turn like barriers, and we think we must be very near him. But see : the crows are stoopiug yonder over a low black object in the distance. ’Tis the hunted fox, pointing straight for the covers of Althorpe. He will never reach them, for the hounds are now close upon his track, and they run into him in the large grass field by Holmby House under the old oak tree. Let up put the clock back a couple of cen- turies or so, when the old oak was stately and vigorous as now. his branches as spread- ing, his stem es gnarled and knotted, his growth as majestic. What a. lesson to us creatures of a day, in our short span of earth- ly existence, is instilled by the comparative duration of these vegetable giants I How they outlive us 1 How their “winter of discontent,” unlike our own, is annually succeeded by a spring of promise 2 How they spread and tower upwards into heaven, whilst we grove] upon earth. Va mihi ! ’twere a weary world, my masters, if there were nothing beyond. A weary world! Let us put the clock back, I say, and dream again. Our dream is over. Hounds and horses and sportsmen are all gone home. The ex- citement has evaporated, and left its usual depression of Spirits behind. We are left aloneâ€"all aloneâ€"under the old oak tree. What is life at best but a dream ? What is happiness but a. dream ?â€"fame, honor, love, anibition ? the waking So thinks the falconer standing yonder, with his perches slung from his broad shoulders, and his hooded pupils sitting con~ tentedly thereon, who would wager his new doublet and his Christmas fee on the success of her, the pride of his mews. So thinks the lithe active lad his assistant, in whose grasp those handsome spaniels are straining at the leash, and who clings to his opinion with the glorious tenacity of sixteen. So think those two jolly-looking serving-men who are in waiting, and who seem to have no earthly thing to do save to crack broad English jokes, and to laugh at them with their broad Engâ€" lish faces. So thinks fair Grace Allonby, whose nature it is to pet and love every mor~ tal thing that comes within her reach. So thinks good Sir Giles himself, who only yester evening over his claret was loud in the praises of his favourite, and eager to match her against all and everything on the wing. She was hatched on a snow-topped, bluff- foced elifi, towerng over the iron~bound coast of Iceland. The parental eyrie, hun- dreds of feet above the level of the sea, was strewed with bones and feathers, and all the warlike spoils of her predatory progenitors. Her infancy was fed on blood, warm from the living victim, her youth trained in long flights over the dark seething ocean ; so her spirit knew not what it was to quail, nor her wing to droop. But a. daring cliffsmnn, one of those Whose pastime and whose profession it is to under- take risks such as quiet man shudder even to read of, made his appearance one clear frosty night at the entrance of her home, and awed her with the immediate presence of the human face divine, never seen before. Well might she be astonished, for the clifi was a sheer precipice, rising perpendicularly from many a. fathom deep of ocean, and the eyrie was securely placed some hundred feet or more below its landward edge, 9. giddy height indeed above the restless sea, heaving and surging down yonder in the darkness. Three strands in the numbed grasp of a. comrade were between the clifisman and eternity, yet his nerve was totally unmoved, his hand steady, his face not even pale. Quietly he selected the most promising bird from the eyrie ; and she, the very essence of whose ex- istence had been freedom, wild as the winds and waves themselves, must be a captive now for evermore. So they sold her for ten gold pieces to a, north-country lord, and the northâ€"country 10rd being more suormn, a, judge of horse- flesh, exchanged her away to Sir Giles Allonby for a dapple grey palfrey ; and now she sits jessed and hooded, under the old oak tree at Holmby, far and away the best falcon within forty miles of fair Northampton town. At first she pined sadly ; her bright keen eye grew dim, her feathers lost their gloss, her wings their sweep and vigor. She was breaking her untamed heart, like a wild‘hawk as she was, but custom and discipline at length prevailed. Her feminine spirit, half won and half subdued, yielded to the corn billed influence of kindniisss and coercion. Ere she reachtd E igland in a merchant-ship she would perch contentedly on the deck, sunning herself for hours in the pure sea air, She would take food eagerly from the hand at which she once fought and tore. She was tamed at last, that Winsome wild~bird, ready, for the lure, and the bells, and the jesses ; willing, under men’s tuition, to become more than ever an inveterate enemy to her kind. Will bhook his head, as who would say, Dreams all. The bitterness is in ACAST 0F HAWKS CHAPTER II. She ought to be very happy, speeding along in all the enjoyment of health and power, and conscious charms, and the delightful motion of Bayard’s easy gallop. And yet there is a, little black imp sitting behind her Even now old Sir Giles, keen sportsman as he is, cannot but feel that his attention to the business of the day is much distracted by his daughter’s friend ; that if ‘Diamond’ could have a rival in hi-; admiration and at- tention, it would be beautiful Mary Cave. So she turned and wound them all round her fingerâ€"and why not ? The lower animals have their natural arms, offensive and defen- sive ; the OK his horns, the tiger his claws the serpent his guile, man his obstinacy, and woman her beauty ; the last it? the most fearful weapon of all, and right; well does she know its advantages and its use. “ I follow the example of my betters,” but answered not a. word ; and indeed in those days late sittings. large flagons, and bumper healths were the daily custom of the age ; and the strong ale flowed as freely in the 11311 as did the red Wine in the banqueting-room or the dinner-parlor. But there was a stir amongst the group under the 01d oak tree ; the falconer’s eye brightened, the serving-men sprung to an atti- tude of respectful attention; and the spanieis fawned and whiued, and strained in the leash, for a party of three equestriaus were up- proaching ; up the hill they swung at a dashâ€" ing handâ€"gallop, and mutating over the sm-voth award with feathers; waving, habits fluttering, bridles jmgling, and palfreys snorting. pulled up under the oak, and re- turned the snlutation of their inferiors with the frank courtesy that is always the stamp of goodâ€"breeding and high birth. Every one in the house adored her. The respectful and austere mqjmwlmno, a condition of Whose very existence it was to preserve on all oeeasnms a, demeanor of supernatural de- corum, would follow her about with his eyes, and dodge after her with flowers and porce- lain and choice old glass, and every device he could think of, to Win the reward of a Word and a smile ; and the little page boy, the lowest of all vnrlets in the estafuhshmemH spent a. whole night on the staircase in dark- ness and tears, when he heard that ‘Mistress Mary was 111 at ease, and troubled with a slight cold.’ " What a morning for us, lads l" remarked Sir Giles to the retainers, with a kindly smile lighting up his ruddy countenance, still handsome and high-bred, though marked with many a deep and furroch line, the in- evitable consequence of a hard life spent in much excitement, much anxiety, much danger, and some excess. “ We flushed a brace of herons as we came along the river- side at Brampton ; and a fairer flight than one of the beautieslmade 1 never wish to see. Ah “ Diamond 1” don‘t you know the old man’s voice ‘2 Come to my wrist, old lass ! Sch l 8011 l” and Sir Giles caressed the hooded bird, and smoothed her neck plumage with a loving handas she fluttered sagaci‘ ously to take her well known place on the glove of the old Cavalier. Sir Giles Allonby was a specimen of the old English gentleman such as no other country but England could produce ; such as the troublous times in which his lot was cast brought out in all its excellence, and all its faults. In person he was tall, spare, and sinewy, framed for a horseman, a swordsman, or a sportsman; for success in any bodily exercise demanding strength, quickness, and agility. Field-sports andcampaigning had toughened him to the consistency of pin-wire but the some causes, coupled with a considerable amount of deep- drinking, had hardened the almost feminine beauty of his countenance into a typo st ‘angclv at variance with the delicate chisâ€" eling of its small features, and the inirthful glances of its bright blue eyes. It seemed a contradiction to see that oval face so rug- ged and warâ€"worn, that well-trimmed moustache and carefully pointed heard so white, those soft curling locks so thin and grey. The man himself corresponded in his inward character to his outward appear. ance. Generous, enthusiastic, and chival- rous, he was passionate, prejudiced, and ob- stinate. Quick to resent insult with a blow lor swordthrust, he would forgive and cm- brace the bittercst enemy who should move a hair’s readth towards reconciliation ; though he would lift his hat on entering a poor man‘s cottage, and address his dame with as much courteous deference as a duchess, no Cavalier alive was such a thoroughgoing aristocrat in his reverence for what he called “ blood”â€"not one of his Norman ancestors could have expressed a greater contempt f01‘ the puddle that stagnated through the peasant’s veins, as compared with the gonor ous fluid that warmed his own ; though he would fling his gold pieces about to all that asked for them, he would screw his tenants to the uttcrmost, nor stop short of what we should call acts of violence and rapinc, to raise men and horses for the king ; and when his wife died, whom he had loved with all lthe unrestrained ardour with which such a nature could not but love a. kindly, hand- some, gentle, generous woman. although ‘ devotion to the crown, which he called loyalty, became the one guiding impulse of his life, Grace herssalf, his lovely daughter Grace, was second in his estimation to his sovereign, and in that sovereign's cause he would not have scrupled to sacrifice even her, his sweet, dutiful, and loving child. 1 and u decision of character Mary Cave dearly loved admiration wher- ever she could get it. Left early in life to her own devices. brought up chiefly abroad, and transferred from 9. foreign convent to a foreign court. she had acquired, even in the first flush of youth. a limbit of self-reliance seldom to be ob- served in those of the softer sex who have not passed through the crucible of much pain and much tribulation. Clever and quiekâ€"witted, with strong passions and strong feelings, she nursed an ambition which stronger than them all. She had the knack, partly natural, partly the result of keen observing powers, of detectingr at once the mental value, and, so to speak, the moral weight of those with whom she came in contact ; and this gift, so dangerous to a. women, necessarily imparted a. harsh- ness to her chencter, and robbed her of that trusting, clinging tendency which is womm greatest cherm. Young as she was, she busml herself in all the intrigues of the day, and her beauty, licr fascinating manners. her ox~ traordinery influence over everything that were a beard, rendered her a. most dangerous enemy, a most desirable and efficient partisan. From her kinsman’s house at Enlighten she corresponded with the leading men of the: Cavalier. party, and Lord Veux himself, in all: . . . . l his Wisdom of years and experience of 111-; trigue, was indebted to beautiful Mary Camei for many a happy resource, many a deep-laid and successful scheme. She is reinng in her horse with a graceful but somewhat timid air, and appears not too well pleased at the caresses and attentions of those busy speniels, to which the steed re~ plies with :1 degree of playful restlessness not quite agreeable to his rider. Grace is a sad coward, and though she spends much of her life on horseback, like other gentlewomen of her time, she has never acquired the perfect self~possessien and mes- euline ease which sit so well upon her companion, yonder lady, Whose curls are waving in the wind, Whose soft blue eyes are deepening and dancing with animation. whose lip and cheek are blushng carnation in the fresh morning air, under the rays of the bright morning sun. ‘Give him a gayllopyGi'acey,’ says she, With a ringing laugh at her friend’s obvious misâ€" givings. ‘Why, Sir Giles himself could hardly ride my Bayard if I let him get as fresh as you do that l‘iOiOllFi pet of yours. Silly Grace, you spoil everything you (some near. What a tyrant you will make z-f your husband, my dear, if you ever get one I” and she benther beautiful figure to pat her horse’s neck in a bcwitehing attitude. which was not lost, as it was not meant to be, on old Sir Giles, or the busy falconer, or the grinning serving- man, nay, not even on the lad of sixteen, who gazed on her openâ€"mouthed, with a lud- icrous expression of stupified amazement and delight. A happy-looking couple were pointed out ; andI was told the lady had been married once before. When her husband died he left a will giving his widow $30,000 a year as long as she remained a Widow. and all 0i his fortune if she manicd again, for, he malici- ously added : “I want another man to know how wretched she made me, and he may find some consolation in my money.” The Wid- dow was not long in finding another husband, and, out of spite to her former spouse, makes the present husband supremely happy. and the wealth of the deceased is an immense factor to that end. Women are contrary creatures, and men don’t understand them. Taking “ chances,” or buying articles “ on shares,” are two very different things, The “ chance” is neither more nor lvss than a lotteryâ€"a species of gambling. Buying on “ shares is a strictly commercial tiunaaction, apartnership concern, when each one who buys a share.” is so far the wnor of the arti- ulo. has just so much invested in it. and when from the beginning it is umlersmod that when purchased it is to he presentud to some one, each one who buys a share or helps to pay for the goods is ajoint donor of the article when presented.â€"Christian Onion. “ Now,” said the gentleman, “ I have done with fairs. They all tend to make those 011- gaged in them dishonest. I would never that young lady again.” that no gallop on earth can shake offâ€"a, secret sorrow nestling art that proud wayward heart which no triumphs of beauty and influence can stifle or eradicate. Both girls laugh out merrily as they fly along, but timid. Grace Allonby isnlarmed about herself ; dauntless Mary (Java is uneasy about smother; the latter’s frame of mind is the least en- viable of the two. A great dishonesty is often practiscfl by re- fusing to make «hange 101‘ things purchased. We VCI‘O told a few days since by a gvn’tle- man, that he went into a fair {L short time previous and made a pm'chase 01" two or three daillnrs‘ worth from a, very bright and intelliâ€" gent young lady, and having no change handed her twenty dollars. Ho waited a few monmnis, than said : “ I’ll take, my change, if you please.” "’ Oh I we give no change,” the young lady replied. Battling should not be tolm'ated for it mo- ment, or any device akin to :t lottery. There are a thou:an ways by which those chance operations obtain names to some of the doâ€" partmonts in a fair, and it will require deter- mination on the part of the directors to keep them out. Grub-h1g9, mlms with one ring, Where It dozen children buy 1! place, hoping to get the ring, and turn away disappointed and envious of the lucl mm ; trees with little bugs filled with my“: in one or two of which there is a rhigor some ornrtmontmoach of those is a species of gambling. Every child who spends its three 01' five cents at the grab-bag hopes to be the lucky possessor of something worth more than the inonoy put in. If he finds the monoy spout for naught, he goes away feeling, and justly, that he has been cheated ; or with tho THS‘lDlOSH of the true gambler coutiiiuos to risk the few pennies that holieshoping for “ better luck” next time. In that seemingly trivial operation he has por- lmps laid the foundation of a habit that will be his destruction. And tho same is true of the one who has laeun over _ .ccessiul. He tries it again, and is not likely to forget that in a trial of chance he was tho lucky one. The sameis true of the ring cake and the candyâ€"bugs, where the purchasorlms‘ a chance for a ring. \Ve have hoard parents coma plain that their children spouts-.11 their money buying the candyâ€"bags from the trees, hoping to get the ring, but more home crying because they had spent their money for naught. A flit-unfit: Pneuemenou and :1 Piece 01 magic. (From the Little Rock (Al-k.) Gazette.) The fire 1mm of Sharp county is not likely to attract more attention than n phenomenon which has just made its appearance, accord- inp,r to a private letter. in Van Buren county, Some people call it a horse, while others affirm that it is a men. At any rate nothing in natural history can account for it. Its hem] has every resemblrinoe to a horse’s, while its body is unmistakably that of a. man. When first seen it was standing; in a road with its head over a fence, looking intently at a main plowing in the field. There was some thing so wild in the expression of the sup- posed horse’s eyes, and and such it Shop to his eyelids, producing such a. peculiar sound, that the man left his plough and went up to the tone 3. His surprise and terror at seeing :1 horse’s head on {L man‘s shoulders knew no bounds, but his legs (lid, and springing away he ran toward his house. The men-horse, seeing that the plowman “flOGL " when no man horse pursued,elinihed over the fence, walked up to the plow, took up the lines and started the horse. The owner had witnessed this, having stopped. Gathering con 'nge, he went back, slowly and cautiously approaching the most peculiar freak of nature he had ever seen. \Vhen he had oonio within ofew yards of the plow the man-horse stopped, turned and remarked : “You seem afraid of mo. Approach." The man felt impelled by some unaccount- able power, and when he was within a few eet oi‘ the man horse, experienced a slight. sensation in his feet, he had a pair of hoofs He had evrdently exchanged With his horse, for, instead of hoofs on the front, the horse Ind human feet, and seemed eq rally as much dissatisfile with them as this man did with the hoofs. After performing the piece of magic the ninnvhorse run away. Helios sub- sequently appeared to several parties, but has not performed anymore mi ‘zteles. It may be necessary to add that the man to whom the phenomenon presented the hoofs is known in the neighborhood as o “Guinea nigger.” His plow-horse has not been seen since that memorable day. he man still re- sins his hoofs, and when last seen was at a blacksmith shop having himself shod. He knows them to be the heels of his horse, for there were marks on them that rendered un- mistakable recognition. This story, a neigh- borhood superstition,doos not eoinein around- about way, but down the Fort Smith Railâ€" way. one of the straightest railroads in the south. It will not. however, take its place in n. library of Sundavsehool fiction. It is stated, and with some degree of truth, that the old negro, suitering with elephantiusis. became crazy and started the story. And now the little party are winding slowly along the bI‘OOkSldO in the valley down by Althorpe. Many a noble ehn and stately oak nods above their heads, many a patch of sedge and rushes shakes and rustles to the quest of the busy spaniels and the long poles of the falconer and his assistants. Far and wide, to right and left, extends a prairie-like and undulating pasture, nourishing here and there a few scattered flocks feeding in the sun. NCEII' one 01‘ two small hamlets, a few posts and mils, or an old straggling overgrown hedge, denote an attempt at cultivation and enclosure, but the general character of the district is Wild, nomadic, and provocative of galloping. Fairs in which wrong dealings are winked at are held in abhorrence by all honest per-i sons. To follow those who refuse to buy through the crow-'1 persistently urging them after they have‘ once declined, is a breach of politeness. The directors of the fair should act as a police force, watchful and vigilant to detect the beginnings of evil. If they do their duty any equivocal act Will soon be de- tected. Among the young particularly, a desire to make rapid sales, to have their re- ceipts swell beyond some other tables, some. times tempts them to resort to various schemes to effect their object : and if this pro- pensity is not lii; ed in ‘Lhu lmd EL fair may exert an evil infiumm: that will far ovorbal- ance the good that nmy be attained. 'EIY EIIE [MARRIED AGAIN (By M18. Henry Ward Beecher.) CSEUKUEI FAIRS! A “IANâ€"ll“ [{SE [To BE CONTINUED.)