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A Study. By L. B. Walford-Author of ” Cousins" and"l\h‘ Smithâ€"A Part of His Life.”) “ Dear ! Did you really ‘2 How clever ?" 1 “ I can put up with everything nbout her, but that ' How clever l’ cried Elizabeth, when the lady had departed. ‘ It always comes out in the same tone, and with the same emphasis. Whatever one (leesâ€"if it be but the veriest trifle, something that even a. Lady Adelaide could accomplish herself with- out too much troubleâ€"it is sure to obtain that all-embracing epithet. I do not believe her vocabulary could supply any other note of admiration. She never rises above it, and never falls below. When she heard that Cup- 1 min Webb had swum across the Channel, and that I had worked a crochet anti-macassar, she said of us both. ‘ How clever l’ ” Her friend laughed. " Is it not provoking, Anne ?” “ Provoking ? Perhaps ; if it were worth being provoked about." A n . -. “1 “ You think it is not ? But you don’t know till you have been tried, I had rather endure one good sword-cut and have done with it. than be the victim oia thousand lancet-pricks. How often did you hear that little soft ejacu- lation during the last half-hour ? Be on your honor Anne.” “ More than once, I confess.” “ And you had noticed it ?” " Yes, I had.” ‘ “ Well, was it not, as I said. called forth by fireat and small, somethings and nothings, alike '1 Was it not a most absurd comment, most promiscuously applied, by a most stupid‘ woman ? Come, Anne, join me; it will do you good, or if not, it will do me good to hear it. Say what you think, you prudent Anne ; confess, break forth you fountain of wisdom. and overflow your banks like Jordan ! You had noticed it, you had felt it all the time. and yet you shake your head. you knit your brows. Oh. I fear you not ; I shall say my say. and mean my moan, and none shall stop me. See, I am the better for it already! I have not~upon my word. I have not felt so oharitably disposed to .vard the poor dear lady for a long time.” Anne. smilingâ€"“That does you credit,sure- ly. The prick of a pin stirs up this tempest. and the tempest subsides with the same show of reason wherewiih it arose. A storm in a teacup. Lizzie. Much ado aboutâ€"” “ Not nothingâ€"not nothing, you tiresome creature ! You will not surely pretend to de- clare that it is nothing ‘2" “ You will not surely venture to infirm that it is something 7" “ I affirm it, and maintain it, Anne." “ Then you are a little~foolish, dear.” “ And you are a very great dealâ€"exasper- ating, darling.” ' Anne smiles, Elizabeth laughs. The door opens, and a footman, with uncertain, be- wildered steps, approaches the upper end of the room. “My lady’s gloves, ma’am. Under the sofa. or on the manteipiece, cry on; the 1100;]: "The locality being so precisely described. he cannot fail to find them immediately,”ob- served his mistress. aside. “Look on the piano, William." On the piano the gloves are. discovered, and carried off, doubled up on n. salver. "Now it willbe, ‘How clever I‘ to have found them so quickly ! and with more grounds for saying so than usual,” continues Mrs. Treslmm, With a. curled lip. “Anne, you might have pity upon me. What may be amusing in a. friend is torture from a. rela- tinu. If Lady Adelaide could only be meta- m(;rpliosed into an ordinary acquaintance-«:1 neighbor even though not too new at hand~ howjoflully would I engave her in conversa- tron nnr dream of attempting to clear a sin- gle cobweb oif her brains l" “You would simply despise her more than ever.” "No. no, no ; at least I think not." “You would.” .“And have you no compassion ‘P Yet I would grieve from my heart if you should ever have the misfortune to be tacked on to a â€"â€"Lady Adelaide. What can I say more ? Yet I defy you. even you. my mentor. to twist anything uudutiful or disrespectful out of such a tame conclusion, such apaltry climax.” No softening influences of association could ideaden her feelings, no early impressions of .awe hold her senses still in check. Lady Ad- elaide broke upon her mature vision with all 'the shock of a novelty, and unfortunately that vision was only too acute. Elizabeth cduld be magnanimous, she could ipardggâ€" but ah»e_.cou.ld _neverfail to_ size: > Anne, gravelyâ€"“She is a very kind-hearted woman." ' “So she is.” “And you have no fault to find with her, save than she calls you clever ?” “ I lever, not clever. You missed the :10» cent. dear." ‘* Is that her only fault t?" perseveres Anne. ” Hum! I did not say so ; I did not go so far as that. Her only great fault. perhaps ; her only perpetual. ever-recurring fault.” “She has no other that you cannot condone?” “ Is not that one enough ? I began years ago by being called a clever child, then I was a clever girl, and now I am a clever woman. I was tired of the word below I had ever seen Lady Adelaide; now I am 1 erfectly sick of it.” " After all, Lizzie, what a baby you are l” "A baby, if you like. I have no objection at all to being called a baby. Nice, little. soft, flufiy things, made to be petted and kissed. But the other is a term of abuse, a positive insult." “ Nonsense l" “ It is; so applied by such lips. Nay, Anne, lweet Anne. frown not so seriously. It spoils thy dimples, Anne, contorts thebrow and dis- torts the mouth. I say it again, again, again ; I will not be called a 'clever‘ woman." Anne-â€"“ One might be'called a. worse thing.” Eliszeth, confidentiallyâ€"~“ But, good Anne, one word. Were you ever tired of being called pretty ?" With Elizabeth, of course, it must ierent. fl ” What would you have ?” cried John. “She is good-looking and good-tempered, and Lady Adelaide and her now niece were, as may have been gathered by the foregoing dia- logue, perhaps as 111 suited to each other as 11: was possible for any two people to be. She was invariably kind and good-bummed, and more he did not expect from her; in- deed, her foibles were so far from being an annoyance to him, that it may be questioned whether he would not have missed something out of his life: if Lady Adelaide had grown sensible. Yet Lady Adelaide was all that a fine lady had any need to be. She was cheerful, gentle and indolent ; in- clined to patronize bazaars and work-parties â€"her young friends in general, and Elizabeth in particular. It was only a. pity they did not see more of each other. John used to be in and out con. tinuullyâ€"the Priory had been quitu his home; but that could not be expected now. The young people were sure to be so much sought after, they would be such acquisitions in any society, that of course their engagements must be numerous. It will be seen that behind backs Lady Adelaide was as charitable as her niece was merciless “ Elizabeth thinks she'sa born fool,” quoth John. "‘ John ! I never used such an expression in my life !” ‘ Do you not think so ‘2” N M Elizabeth did. ‘ Jo‘m, for his part, was rather fond of his aunt. Elizabeth. 3 gay. triumphant bride, in the heydey of her charms, little disposed to toler» ate anything: contemptible and ridiculous, was seriously disturbed by finding in the relation who of all her newly-acquired kindred stood nearest to her. one who wasa perpetuulsource of mortification. _ Her nephew‘s wife was quibe charmingâ€"so hvely. so clever. And then dear Elizabeth was so accom. plished. had so many resourcesâ€"not an idle body like her tiresome old aunt, who had time to run about and bore all her neighbors. LADY ADELAIDE. be dif never said an unkind word 1:0 anyone in her llfe. She is the most popular woman in the neighborhoed.” “ Then I shall be the most unpopular.” “ Vexy li‘hly. " ” Yuu won ‘b ask me why? It is because we are the w 1y antipodes of each other in every respect.” ‘3 So you are. I like you best, but you will find that mine is not the general ppinion.” , “ Most people will likeVSir Walfer a great deal better than you.” " That is a fact, again." people.” “ Neither do I.” “ And if evervbody in the world were to say so, they would never convince me that you were not worth 11 bummed Sir Walters, and “ Go on.” “ That I am not worth a thousand Lady Adelaides." “ Ha 1 ha! so I think. But, little one. clever as you ure‘ there is one thing you can- not doâ€"and that. is. argue.” How came John always tohave the best of it ? Chatter as she m1ght. this quick-witted and lfighâ€"spirited girl was as devotedly sub- ject to her sober-minded husband as any Wife ever was in this world before. It was evident that she was ahappy bride. Contentment beamed in her lively dark eye ; and the ring of her quick firm footstep‘ the snatches of songs which broke forth at intervals through the little house, the pleasure she took in her pretty possessions, the glory in her small achievements, all spoke of the satisfaction of a heart at rest. Still,the dead fly in the ointment was there, small though it was; and that flyâ€" would any one have guessed it ?â€"-Was Lady Adelaide. On the day succeeding that which witnessed the little ebullition above narrated, Elizabeth was busy with her hyacinths, when the ba- rouche from the Priory swept up the modest (Ix-we, and her aunt, m February furs and vel- vet bonnec, alighted. “ My dear, I came earlyâ€"I know you will excuse it ; how sweet. how delicious this room 8! All irom the hyacinths ! Yes ? Your uncle and I hope that. you and Johnâ€"so full of the sun tooâ€"charming quite charming ! We must have some people you know, my dear. to meet you; and perhaps Thursday weekâ€"take care. my love, the new carpet ! watering-pot, drippings may have paint on them. Oh, there are drops on the velvet table, too 1 Your handkerchief ? Ah, yes, quite dryâ€"-no harm done. But, my dear, will that day suit you 7 No other engage- ment ?" “ We have no engagements at all, thank you." “ Not yet ? no 7 really ?" Elizabeth brought one of her glasses into the ray of sunlight. The young couple had not been settled in their new home above a fortuight; it was natural to suppose that their evenings might be still at liberty. Nor indeed did Lady Adelaide feel the smallest degree of astonishment. It was she who ought to introduce her neice. It was at their house Elizabeth must make her first appearance, and had been only waiting for Sir Walter to recover from his last attack of gout toissue her cards. She calculated that by the day fixed on, he would be well enough to receive his guests ; and though Elizabeth had been duly waited upon by the principal neighboring families, it was only now that elm might begin to expect the inevitable in- vitatiovm. ‘l‘husalthough she cried “Not yet? no? re zlly ‘2“ with all due fervor and impress- sive-nees, her unmoved countenance betrayed that she exclaimed by rote. Or " Are you a worker, my dear? You must get my niece to show you her embroidery-â€" that new kind of work, you know, in wools. All done from nature, I assure you, every stitch in it. What can the name be? Eliza- beth, my love. what is the name of that beau- tiful wool work you do, all from nature? Miss de Bury is longing to see in.” Elizabeth could not; forgive her, “ I am helpless whatever she chooses to say, John. I cannot contradict, because it is bad manners.- I cannot, help hearing; and if I attempt to tum it aside, Lady Adelaide is sure to make herself only the more ridiculous. and me, too, that; is the worst of it. PeOple will suppose that I am enjoying it ! That new kind of wool work ! Why, every creature does it. and Miss do Bury worked some a year and 8-hfllf ago.” “ What is it ?" “ 0h, crewels. You know the thing,l “So sorry to miss him, but you were the person I chiefly came to see. And you really say ‘Yes ‘2’ That is charming! then I can send. Thomas round at once. So thoughtful of you. my love, it you are quite sure John Will not mind for of course it makes a differ- ence to know. One ought to try to get to- gether the right people to meet each other. But how can one if you are unable to fix the day 7" reasoned the lady wisely. ‘- Yes, certainly, you may depend upon us.” “ Oh, and Miss Charley, that charming, beautiful friend of yours. of course we include her; or must I-â€"ought I not to write a separ- ate invitation? Undoubtedly I ought. You think not? Really ‘2" “ She left us this morning, thank you." “ Dgurl this morning i Is it possible ?" Now Anne had arrived on a week’s visit, the week had expired and she had departedâ€" what more could be said ? Anne had herself informed Lady Adelaide of the duration of her stay ; and Elizabeth, alive to everything, remembered having heard the some ‘13 it possible?‘ on the subject a. few days before. “ Then I need not write ‘2" Plainly not. “ But we should have been so glad. so pleased to have seen her, and of course a special invitatiun~end. my dear Elizabeth, your white satinâ€"you won't mind, will yon, just this once? Sir \Valter does like to be old fashioned, you know; and a. bride out of white satin " “May we considei‘ that fixed, then, my dear 5‘" "You will ask John ? Quite right, so right. Always consult your husband’s wishes. And you will let us know? But you will accept nothing else for that evening '2" “ My dear! But you are only in jest. Or- ange-blossom, you know. is quite inadmissible except upon the dayâ€"quite. Your maid must talw it off the dress even. You know thut â€" yes? And, my love, your music: you will bring your music and your drawingâ€"some of those foreign sketches you took last Autumn, so bright and pretty ; andâ€"and ” “0h, certainly,Aunt Adelaide,â€"very happy‘ Jchnâ€" " “I beg your pardon. I am sure-â€"I know I may answer for John ; he is always glad to 5:0 to the Priory, so he would certainly wish me to say ‘yes‘ at once. I was only going to say he is on: this morning.” “ Pray, Homing more this; time. My music I will bring, but the sketches are on such a very small scale, surely there will be some one among the guests more fitted to exhibit, than I?” But when the time came Lady Adelaide was not to be foiled. The portfolio. to be sure, was not at hand, but it- existed, and she could still whisper in audible asides. “Sketches too. cliarminglyâ€"charmingly. Hall absolutely amazed. Lord Guelder, quite the best amateur last season. came on purpose to see them, I assure you he did. Came all the way to Kensington. So accomplishedâ€"- so clever !” Or her niece would catch “A sweet place, the cottage, is it not ? And she has made it so pretty, so fresh and bright. Nice new fumi- ture, birds, flowersâ€"quite a genius for arrangâ€" imz flowersâ€"and all the little elegant knick- knacks put about. Shows such taste in every- thing." “ My dear, how can you say so ! Every one admires them exceedinglyâ€"Ho spirited, so clever !” Elizabeth startedâ€"the obnoxious epithet settled the question ; nothing should induce her to be shown of? to her aunt’s guests. “ Would he a queen Without acrown? Very well, Aunt Adelaide, while satin it shall be ; wreath and veil too, I suppose ‘2" Well ?" Well?” I don’t care for the opinion of most though you don’t know the name. That Honeysuckle I did for the little black chair, that was it. And then about our flowers, she is really vely kind you know, in bringing them and then she 18 quite amazed because I put them in wate1.How people will laugh at us” “ Why does she fix upon me ? You are her relation, yet she never annoy: you in the sameiway.” “ No, they won’t. They know her too well 1" “ You are mistaken. I heard her exalting my knowledge of horses to Mr. Foster, at the other end of the dinner-table.” “ Your knowledge of horses I” “ And advising him to apply to me for the next hunters he wanted.” ” To Mr. Forest! The Master of Fox. hounds I" “ Even so.” “ John 1 Poor John 1" “ Ay. poor John! Idon’t think any of yourexperiences will beat that, my little Elizabeth.” “ No indeed Buthow did you bear it?! Did you not sufl‘oeate 7‘” ‘ “ Oh dear, no I I took a. mouthful of sherry. and bore up veiy well.” “ But is it not dreadful ?"‘ John shrugged his shoulders. “ It is her way, Lizzie ; everybody has some peculiarity!’ “ " peculml I“ need not be offensive.” ” Very true. Do not be offended by it.” “ John, I shall take a. lesson from y.ou You are the best John, the most patient John, the most wonderful John that ever was made. If I had heard that said to Mr. Foster. I should have jumped up imd screamed. Oh 1 you know what I mean. Of course you never set up for being a judge, and to a man who does ! What do you suppose he thought ?" Elizabeth was so much taken up with her husband’s wrongs that she almost forgot her own. So matters went on. Lady Adelaide. having no children of her own, took a maternal interest her nephew and all who belonged to him. Atleasxlour days in the week the bay horses trotted through the Cottage gate, and the kind soul. full of smiles and presents, sailed into the drawing room. The excite- ment did her all the good in the world ; but unfortunately, as it raised her spirits, and stirred up her gentle sluggish nature, it served also more prominently to display its defects. “ My dear, do tell me all about your set vsnts. Are they comforts to you ? I don’t mean in the way of understanding their duties and keeping things properly, that we can all we can all see, is satisfactory ; but are they comforts) ? So much depends upon that in a household; indeed it does. So I told John when we set about engaging them. We did our best, to be sure ; but it is such a lottery. Old attached servants are the only ones of any value.” “Very true, Aunt Adelaide." gravely. “ And you are really pretty well off ? You will excuse my asking. I know, my dear ; for it was such a responsibility. And so little experience as you have had. it would have been cruel to have inflicted bad servants upon you.” “ My dear. do take care of yourself. I feel quite cruel, quite wicked. running off in this way. But Sir Walter thinks we must ; and dear John, too. so like himself, to insist upon it. A few lines, a postcard, sent to B Square will let us know how you are. Pmy my dear Elizabeth, do not think of writing yourself. John, or your maid. will, I know, “ They promise very well, thank you. I know,” continued Elizabeth, with a. twinge of conscience, "that you took a great deal of trouble.“ “ No trouble in the world,my love. I would gladly be of any use. And as to the houseâ€" nnew house, you know. quite untested; no smoky chimneys? Bells ringing properly ? That’s well; Sir Walter and 1 were talking about the chimneys last night. I told him John would be sure to let him know; for of course it would be Sir Walter’s place to put “19m in order. So mind you tell us; no te- serves. my dear." By no means. Mr. Treshnm would not hear of such a thing. The doctor had just left. and there was nothing to be in the least alarmed about. Aecm'dingly u dainty note was left at the Cottage on the following morning, when the cgrx-inge returned from the station. “ And then your calls ?" proceeded Lady Adelaide, starting afresh. “ You keep a book? you 3510 ret_umhing_th.em.alvl in order ?” “ We are to keep a book, John, of all our engagements. and I am to enter it in my vis. 1tors as they call, in succession. First of all came Mr. and Mrs. Foster. then the Rector and Mrs. Reeves, Lord Burchell, and Mrs. and Miss Page-Gore. I am afraid it will be Mr. and Mrs. Foster, Mr. and Mrs. Reeves. Lord Burchell, and Mrs. and Miss PagevGore over and over again, unless I am to insert Lady Adelaide herself here and there, by way of variety. And, John. be sure you only en‘ gage old and valued servants, it is so imporâ€" tant they should be attached to youâ€"” “ Lizzie l " Elizabeth hung her head. The next day she had a cold. Down came Lady Adelaide, kinder than ever. Black current teeâ€"lozengesâ€"the best were the pales Je guimauves. quite invaluable, had cured Sir Walter repeatedlyâ€"and jelly, a little curmnt jelly, so soothing and refresh- ingâ€"were all by turns prescribed, The jelly should be sent down from the Priory at once; and the lozenges she would order on her way back through the. village. Oh. it was a. mere nothing, a mile or two roundâ€"the drive would do her goed. Was Elizabeth’s throat blistcrcd? Had she a. headache? Feverish ? “ And is poor (iear Elizabeth to be left by herself ‘2” Before 9 o clock Elizabeth s abigail brought this message, as she alranned her mistress’ s teatray by the bedside. Elizabeth was no better. “ My lady‘s compliments, ma'am, to know how you is this afternoon ?” Worse. A groom rode over in the evening. His master and mistress were going to Brighton on the following day, but would put off their departure if Mrs. Tresham were no better. ' “ Not a. book. 'Indeed, I can; get on without that." " Ah, you are so thoughtful, so clever. But still I can asmre you that a book is a great help, an absolute necessity. When I was a bride I could never have got on at all without my visiting book." “ You lived in London, Aunt Adelaide ?” “ Yes, my dear, for many years. Sir Walter was in the Guards, you know. Wv had an immense circle of acquaintances.” This passed. Elizabeth, neither knowing not caring anything about. the merits of under-cuts. was still ruminating mischievous- ly on the droll idea of establishing a visiting- book wherein to detail in order the names of the residents in a small and reinsikably quiet neighborhood, when her mouitress departed. Yes, all three; and she would have given the world to be let alone besides. John came‘to the menus. “ She is not, to talk. and this room is too warm for you, Aunt Adelaide ; come and take a turn round the garden.” Even so. Hard-hearted John kept his visitor out of doors during the whole of her stay, and saw her safely off in the barounhe ere he re turned to his wife’s room {or the remainder of the dav. By and by it was, ”Your tradespeople are attentive ? Send properjoints ? Never have loins of mutton, my dear, â€" the most wasteful dish there is. And as for ribs of beef, my housekeeper tells me that there is no under- cut in them. Positiwly, no under-cut. Little hints of that kind are invaluable to re- ceive. I never order ribs of beef new.” “ My lady’s compliments, mn’am to know how you is this morning ‘2" “Half a dozen! More than that, surely. Certainly, we manage to do without a book. somehow, at the Priory. I did not, think of that. I only recollectud my own experience when I was first married.” *‘ And we,” said Elizabeth, “ have half a dozen.” kindly take the troubleâ€"In haste, your afiec- tionato “ P. S.â€"So much to do. “ P. S.â€"ane you tried a. Porous Plaster on the chest ‘2” Sick as she was. Elizabeth laughed aloud. “ John. your aunt is perfect. She is unique. Where did you get such an aunt ? Pray, John, get me a Porous Plaster to put on my chest, because my throat is sore. And John, go at once to the post-oflice am? 11:5 apost- card, or, better still, mandate? .11. Oh, dear ! I am very naughty 0‘ l » .ly wretched. Even my ears seem to L: rs, and my head, eyes. everything. When will the doctor come l” The doctor gave very little comfort when he did come. It was a sore throat, a very sore thoat. Il hurt very much when she swallowed ? Humpll ! Could she gargle 2‘ He prescribed a gargle and went away. But at night he came again. He happened to be passing, and thought perhaps they might l1ke him to look in. Could Mrs. Treaham let him have 11 999p? _ ‘ thn held the candle, and there it was, the dreaded White bar all down one side of the throat. “ That will do.” said Dr. Birch, carelessly. “ We must get that throat put right some- how, Mrs. Tresham, and you must have some sleep. It is too sore ? Ah ! yes sore throats are very uncomfortable things. There are a great many of them going about just now. I won't trouble you longer at present. Suppose I go down stairs to write the prescription.” ‘Then 1‘» gave John a. lookfiml théy left the room toy: her. ' “ Why, this is brandy ! " cried Elizabeth; “ Ah ! how it bums ! ” “ Yes, dear. it is thought good for you." “ John I what is the matte: with me ? " “ The matter l ” “ Yes, you look so strange. I can’t take any more, indeed I can‘t. Don’t ask me. Only let me lie still. Oh. I don‘t want gruel ; I hate gruel.” The last sentences broken, and uttered with dilficulty. “ Don‘t [goâ€"away John. ” “ Only for a few minutes, dear. I am going to sit up with you to-nlqht. ” A slip of the tongue this, but it passed un-‘ heeded. .. How long Dr. Birch has stayed I" said she, presently, He was silent. “ Is he only gone now !” Now at that moment the good doctor was comfortably ensconced in John’s own easy. chair by the fireside in the library. with a pair of John‘s own slippers on his feet. He had expected this in the morning, and made his arrangements accordingly. Mrs. Tresham was dangerously ill. The fave} did not increase rapidly ; it rather appeared to gain ground with insidious, un~ seen footsteps. She was riot exactly worse ; she was certain- ly 1:10: betteri Dr. Birch breathed more freely. “ If we can but keep it there." he said. “ It we can pre vent its going down the throat again, we. shall do.” ' The white bur came a little {firmer into the mouth. “ Poor dear John !poor dear fellow ! Dear ! Dear! Dear! Dear! Oh, how sad, haw sazl ! I must and will go to him directly. Snowing? What if it is? I cannot get wet in a railway carriage ; and what if I did, either? Dear me‘ if the line should be blocked! But it only came on an hour ago. Ring the bell, dear, please. .01), Marshall. poor Mrs. Treeliam is so much worse. so alarmingly \vorsel It is druadful ! quite dreadful! and I am going 013 l0 her at once.” “ Stokev Ferringtdn, my good girl. Stoke Ferriugton is our own station,- you knowâ€"- “ Jeannette goes with me, of course. Did I not say so ? And Marshall. No, Marshall must stay to attend on his master. Sir Walter must not be inconvenienced. I had better not take Thomas either, it would disturb Sir Walter to drive out without him. What did you say, good Jeannette? Oh, we shall 5: 1 on very wellâ€"admirably. I am not at. m afraid.” “ What is the use of your going off at once ? Indeed I can‘t see any good in your going at all. If you must go wait till to-mnr- row." pronounced Sir Walter. in his sleepy selfish way, chipping ofl the shell of his an” as he spoke. and examining it with the eye of a. connoisseur. “What good Will your going do to anybody? And in such atrocious weather to i" “ Adelaide. do, for pity’s sake. not set up than doletul cry again.” Sir Walter grew quite testy. “How can I enjoy my chop. or toast, or anything whilst you are making such a din ? I like my breakfast to be a pleasant meal; it ought not to be disturbed by dis- agreeables.” “ Miladi knows the stairshon ?" suggested Jeanuette, doubtfully. “ Such a, perfect marriage ! Everything so suitable ! A charming creature, so handsome, so lively. so clever 1 Poor John ! Pnor dear John ! Who could war have foreseen an end- ing like this I” “Nonsense ! Who hall's of dying ? You have put. yourself into an altogether unneces- sary ferment, Adelaide. There is not a worn of dying in the letter. Besides, if they were as bad as that,you would be most certaininy dc trop,and would wish yourself back here again." “ Well, well, I daresay not. But. don’t let us have any more fuss. Drink your tea, my dear, and think it over ; there is an abund» nuce of time.” The tea was drunk, but scarcely was the last drop tasted, ere she broke forth again. V“ But, my loveâ€"" Lady Adelaide, a pat tern wife, was perplexed how to express her self. “Well, this is most provoking I I thought we huu‘ done with it at last, and now you begin it all over again. How can ‘you set yourself to be so unpleasant, Adelaide ? One would think you did it on purpose. Here is everything nice and comfortable, just as it ought to be. and I’m not to be allowed to enjoy it. If I cannot have peace and quiet at my meals I Muld rather go without food al- Lagether. “ You are really going 7” Sir Walter raised his eyebrows. There was no doubt about her going. Bells rang. maids hurried hither and thither. Marshall received a summons every five min- lites; and my lady. distracted betwixt her duty to her husband, her orders to her house- keeper, the claims of her engagements. the barking of her dogs and the chattering of her parrot, grew every minute more and more 1):- wildered and incoherent. “ Ha 1 ha I” laughed her husband.“So you go to entertain the doctor I” “ It would release dear John, would allow him to devote himself entirely to hisâ€"«oh, I cannot bear to think of it I" cried the kind creature. “Who knows what may be happen- ing, wlm’c mm have actually taken place by this time 9 How could I not go ? How could I answer it to my own consci- ence if that. poor dear child were to dieâ€"" 4“ I might be :1 little comfort to him. And John never makes me feel de trap.” The door was opened, and a. hot dish was brought to Sir Walter’s elbow. “ MuflSn ? Ah ! Nice and brown too. The sort of day to eat muffins on. as somebody says somewhere. Have some mutfin, my dear, While itis hot, and let us hear no more of this just now. There will be another letter to-morrow, and a better account. we will hope.” ,, 7 “ I assure you I am really very sorry, my dear. Pray take another cup, such good tea, and the pot ls quite full. And Marshall, be so good as to look up Bradshaw at once, and let me know Wlnch is the very first train that. I can catch to Stoke Ferrington.” 6' My dear ! but you do not consider what you are saying. It is true I might be but 01 little use, but. at least I could entertain the doctor, andâ€"” ‘- As if I could wait till tomorrow ! It is diphtheria. my dear, diphtheria ! The most shockingly fatal complaint. Ah ! how little we thenghtâ€"" Alas! it crept round to the other side AUNT ADELAIDE.” our station at home. We have only to get| there, and the carriage will meet us.” “ The carriage, miludi l” “ Oh, well. good Robinson will send Us up in his comfortable fly. Or, Mr. Tresham will drive down in the dogoart. Poor dear! of course he will be there to meet us~thet is, if‘ he knows we are coming.’. l “ Miladi has sent the message ?" “ Have I sent it ? Yesâ€"~noâ€"I really for- get, and it does not signify. I daresay he would never get it if I did. or read it if he got it. No, Marshall. no ; thank you for re- minding me, but I prefer not to send one. I would not have them troubled on any ac- count at such a. time. Mr. Tresham will have quite enough to think of. and it might be inconvenient to send. No, noâ€"w'é shall get on very well. Jeannette. there is no need for more. Let us take the least possible lug- gage we can. Why take any ? Would not a carpet bag be sufficientâ€"a carpet bag which you could hang on your arm? Well, well. but let there be as little as possible. No even- ing dresses. no other bonnet. And now, Jean- nette, my mantle. What comforts these fur-lined mantles azc. t; be sure 1 Ah l if dear Elizabeth bade ‘ worn one of these ; but it is too late to rerj at it now. Hes Mar- shall ordered the cab ? Run and see, Jean- netteâ€"quick l The time is flying, and cabs go so slowly. Yet I could not take our own poor horses out on such a day. What, not come ? Marshall must sendâ€"it is come Y Then let us be ofi, at once, at once." In vain Sir Walter murmured his disap- provalâ€"Jess urgent-1y. indeed. now that his personal comfort was no longer interferefl with, but. still in uncompromising accents. The front door opened, and out she sailed-â€" her long dress, although on one aide held up high enough to do duty for both, trailing far behind her on the other, her hands encum- bered with mufi, purse and satchel. " Now. my good man, I will give you double fare if you take us in time for the twelve o'clock train. The twelve o’clock train to Stoke Ferrington, mind not the London twelve o’clock express train.” “Allright,mi‘um. 1’11 do it. it be done."said the man resolutely about in his mind for some about streets in which he could spin time. " Is it a block, Jeannette ?” Look out and see. What shall we do if it is a. blhck !" The station, in spite of all strategy, was reached so soon. that Lady Adelaide, forget- ting that Brighton is not London. could hardly be persuaded to believe otherwise than that a mass of vehicles obstruct» ed her path, when the halt was made at last. The cabman, however got. his double fare. and she had now the difficulties of the ticket- ofi'lce to encounter. But these difficulties had loomed so gigan- tically before the eye‘s of the household in 8 Square. that Marshall himself-the magnificent Marshallâ€"had run round through the snowy slushy streets, to save his poor Foolish, kind mistress from a hopeless tangle and confusion. He should have been on the box-seat of the cub of course,but my lady had actually driven off whilst he was filling for her the flask of her travelling bag, which she had only pro- duced at the last moment. He was at the station before her, flask in hand. My lady was quite touched : and it never occurred to her to wonder that Marshall should. on his feet, have preceded that indomitable driver with his cub. It would doubtless have been more pru- dent if the knowledge of Lady Adelaide’s a’r- John had hurried out of the room. “ Goals of fire I Yes. indeed. my little wife, a perfect furnace is about to descend on your head now.” She was safely seen into a disengaged car- riage. presented with her tickets, which Mar. shall kept his eye upon, until they were safely stowed :1an in the satchel ; and then, he thought. with Jeannette by her side. she might be brought through ; though it was not without a, qualm that that the worthy major- dome saw the train depart. Faster and faster fell the snow. Ridges Iurmvd upon the Windows of the rail way carriages ; and between the flakes which settled on the panes, and slowly melting trickled down outside, and the steam arising from the warmer atmosphere within. the coun- trv through which the travellers passed was almost invisible to them. "‘ Dear, kind buy," murmured sh'e. “lawns nothing, a. mere nothing~so gladâ€"so thank- fulâ€"jsuch a happy endingâ€"” The hot-water pans rapidly cooled. Every time a door was opened. came ina blast of air so chill. so withering, that the passengers wrapped in their thickly-folded rugs shuddered from head to foot. Guards and porters‘ with snow-tipped hats and 'shoulders, hlue faces, red noses. watery eyes and palsied hands. struggled with their duties. Travellers. either muffled to the ears in Ulster acute and com forters, or equally well shrouded in seal-skin and Shetland veils, sought the shelter as a haven of refuge. Strange to tell. yet true, Lady Adelaide and her waiting-woman reached Stoke Ferrington in safety, and the only mistake they made was in going a little beyond it. “ Wliy. tiiis is Beckéley ! Beckslpy is on the other side of Stoke Femngton ! Guard I guarfl ! are_we in thg right train ? V “ Depends upon where you are going to, ma‘am.” ” Going? To Stoke Ferrington, to be sure I I know we have passed it. for this is the way we go to London. Whac shall we do ? ” She had to get out and wait in the bitter cold at u f 'LIC side station for nearly an hour. Yet she never faltered. “ To think of your coming here all by your- self. and fighting your way among porters and cabmen 1” continued John. aware of the miseries this involved to his hnlpless relative. “You, who never travelled alone in your life! And the Priory closed ! And not a creature to meet you l But go to the inn you shall not; Here you have come, here you must stay. I wish it were a palace for your sake.” “ Horrible l " escaned from Jeannette; but no syllable of complaint crossed the lips of her mistress. you, aunt. Neither she nor I will ever forget this.” “ Oh, my dear 1" She wan quite overcome. Twolarge, warm tears rolled down her cheeks, and settled on the velvet strings of her bonnet. How dismal, how cross they looked 1 There was the burly middlemged man with snow on his whiskers, tho so‘dinr with ice onhis mous- tache, the schoolrj ‘ with thin kid gloves, the schoolboy with no gloves at allâ€"each one more wretched, more unaccommodating than the other. “ This fire might be a. little larger. but what there is of it is quite hot. Come nearer. Jeannetteâ€"come, my good girl, warm your feet as I do. Oh. there is plenty of roomâ€" plenty. You are cold as well as I. Ah !I wonder how poor Mrs. Tresham is now ? But we must not expect to hear till we are there." It was late in the afternoon ere the travel~ lers arrived at. the Cottage. “ Aunt Adelaide ! ” For once in her life. Lady Adelaide had no words. Mutely she gazed into her nephew’s face to read the verdict there ; and it was with almost an hysterical grasp of relief that she sank down on a, flf’flt afterwards. ” Aunt Adelvlide ! “My dear boy I " “ You have come from Brighton on a day like this ? " “ My poor John, to be sure I have. How is she 1‘” ' “ Batterâ€"decidedly better. Quite a change since last night. But, my dear auntâ€"â€"" John looked perfectly confounded. “ You shall not be troubled with us. my dear. I have thoughtit all over. We will go down to that good little inn, where I know they will do everything to make us comfort- able. Jeannette is to tell the driverâ€"1t is all arranged. But I could not help coming. though Sir Walter said it was foolish.” " Foolish 1” cried John. seizing both her hands and choking down a great sob in his throatâ€"“foolish ! It was the best and the kindest. andâ€"andâ€"there isn’t one woman in a thousand would have done. 1t. God bless it can casting round- ont the rival could have been concealed from the sick one. But independently of the fact that in so small a dwelling it was diflicult to conceal any event that took place, John felt that he owed it to his aunt to let her journey and its object 'be known. True, had he suggested secrecy, she would not only have acquiesced without a. murmur, but would have instant-1y felt that she had been imprudent in expecting anything else ; but it would have been a disappointment which he could not have borne to inflict. More. it would have been an injustice. Eliza- beth must know, ought to know. the true worth of one whom she valued so slightly. Although weak, the invalid was new on the way to recover; and he felt he might venture on the announcement Without danger of harming her. “ John l Aunt Adelaide l What for? How did she come ? How long has she been here ? ’ “ When I wrote yesterday, dear. you were very ill. Dr. Birch was anxious about you. I could nbt disguise it in my letter, and it they only received the morning. The better re- port I sent to-day will not arrive there till to- morrow.” Like his own. her first emotion was one of extrefie surprise. “ And you mean that Sir Walter and Lady Adelaide set ofi on the strength of that let- ter ?” “ John, did she come by herself ?” “ By herself; bringing that French girl with her." “ On this dreadful day l” “ Drove up from the station in that old janglingz fly with its broken window. and was preparing to sleep tonight at the public- house.” “ You will not let her 2’” " No, dear, no. It is all settled. And now, Elizabeth,th do you think of the poor aunt now ? ton Elizabeth’s pale face flushed. “ I should like to see her.” On tiptoe Lady Adelaide came. her long; silk dress rustling behind her all the way upstairs, and getting itself shut in- to the doorway as she approached the bed- side. Lady Adelaide stooped to kiss her neice. and Elizabeth threw her arms around her neck. “ She may 02191 me clever every day of my life from this time henceforth, but I will never think of her as a. fool again.”â€"-Bluek- wood. ' LACKAWAXEN, P3,, March 5.â€"Dr. Isaac B. Craft, a. prominent; physician of Pike County. Pa., died a. few days ago at his home near Milford, aged 72 years. He was born in New York city in 1808, and he studied medicine under Dr. Valentine Mott. He came to Pike County in 1864, and soon established a. large practice. F03 Rheumatism and N’ervousness use Edison’s Electric Belts. They act upon the nervous system. A few weeks . before his death he made a professional visit to Milford, driving in a wag011.A f1iend said: “ Doctor, you seem to be getting p1oud 111 you1 old days ” '1 he physician replied : “ Not at all ; that wagon is for my son. I expect to live but a short time longer.” He then said that he would die on a. qertain day. Nothing was fihonght about what he said, and the physician (lune on. A few days later he was taken sick while on his way to attend a patient. He returned home, and told his family that he had made his last professional call, and repeated what he had said while at Milford concerning his dying on a certain day. He grew worse, and diedat the predicted time. Fan Indigestion. Dyapepaia and Costive‘ ness use Edison’s Electric Absorbent Belts. “’th [he Prediction had been ITnlflllul hiya Son Prenched Ilm Funeral Hermon It was his request that his funeral sermon be preached by an Episcopal clergyman, as he had been a member of the Episcopal Ll-iurch for forty years. The minister was asked to be present, and had made every ar- rangement to attend. 0n the day preceding that fixed for holding the funeral, the (le- eeased physician’s eldest son, who is studying for the priesthood in Baltimore, arrived home. He inquired as to the arrangements for the funeral. When informed what they were, he said that he would himself ofiieiate. This met the approval of some members of the family, and others were bitterly opposed ; but the majority were in favor of the son officiating, and the Episcopal clergyman was told not to come. 1n the vineyards near us the girls mount ladders and clip the rich bunches, dropping them into the baskets. With the industrious one day is enough to clear an average vine- yard. When the grapes are all gathered in they are carefully picked from the stems for the pressing. This last process is the same primitive, simple operation that was per- formed by the patriarch Noah. The grapes are thrown into an enormous vat. where the juice is trumped out of them by the bare feet. At this stage of the vintage you may see hun» dreds of young ladies of the city of Perugia coming forth in groups in the morning. beam- ing with pleasant mystery and excitement. The Fourth Annual Exhlbllion or Iho \Vc-lmluslu' Kennel Club. Mr. Charles Lincoln, superintendent of the fourth annual dog show of the Westminster Kennel Club. which is to be held at the Madison Square Garden. New York, on April 27, 28 and 29, is receiving entries. A con. siderable number have already been made. Heretofore exhibitors waited until near the opening before making application for space. There will be an unusual number of foreign clogs on exhibition this year, and the Western breeders, who last year kept out of the East» ern exhibitions, will be on hand in strong force. One reason for this more than usual interest is the fact that this show will prob ably be the only one of any magnitude held in the United States this year. Mr. Lincoln says that they will expect to have 1,500 dogs on exhibition. The largest show ever held heretofore was that at the Crystal Palace, Sydenham, England, last spring; 1.300 dogs were then on exhibition. The entries at the last New York exhibition were 965. Mr. Hugh l‘alyiel, kennel editor of the London Field. has been invited to act as one of the judges, and it is understood that he will con- sent to not. Prince Albert Solms and Rev. Mr. Mncdonn. two of the most experienced European judges. have signified their inten-i tion of making; entries, and will no doubt be‘ present. The entries will close on April 12. A resident 111 Italy vouches for the follow ing ~ Your ordinary tourist, whose only intellec- tual and instructive pabulum is gathered from the guide books, has not the remotest concep- tion of their object. He may think they are out for an early constitutional. V-ut early constitutionals are not the rage with Italian ladies. Shall I tell you the secret of all that mystery and excitement ? They are off to the country to tread in the wine presses. It is a novel holiday for them, besides being a most salutary exercise. E\en prim 01d dowagers are known to “ wade in" and banish the rheu- matism by a half day's exercise in the wine press. Apart from the healthful exercise of tramping, the new mesh acts as a. bath to the limbs, while the uprising fumes are considered eminently stomachic. Afterthe treading perâ€" formance these ladies wash themselves in hot wine, taking a moderate decoction internally for the stomach’s sake. The effect is p‘eassnt and rejuvenating, and is especially noticeable in the Vim with which they participate in the dance. which is the usual sequel to treading in the wine press. None of them once thought of the infec PREDICTING HIS OWN DEATH. Not Sir Walter. Heis safe at Brigh- GIRLS INA WINE VAT. THE N. Y. DOG gnu“ > Mr. Leland, better known as Hans Bruit- man, was a private in the Northern army in the late civil war. It seems that Miss Braddon hit upon a. name for her latest novel which had been chosen by another author in advance of heft. It was changed to “Splendid Misery." A Miss Hfirdy has given her exberienoe of railway travelling 111 America in an article mitten for the current number of Kensing- ton King Cetywayn has written an account of the war in Zululand, or rather it was taken down from his lips by the officer who touk him to Cape Town, and is published in Mac- 7nitlan's Magazine. A controversy has been going on in Eng- land about the origin of trousers. Among other things it is said that some sixty years ago a Quakeress preaching in a country Quaker meeting admonished her hearers against vanity in raiment, and added that it was distressing to see so many of the younger members running down into longs; but, thank the Lord, there was still a precious remnant left in shorts ! Kinglake, the historian of the Crimean war, is a lawyer. He rode beside Lord Raglan in the war, and thus gained his knowledge of it. All his life long he has studied plans of battles. Miss Susanna Blamire was born at Thack- wood. Cumberland, England, in 1747, and diedat Cm‘lisle in 1795. She wrote " What Ails this Heart 0’ Mine; The Nnbob’s Re- turn ; The Chelsea Pensieners ; An Ye Shall Walk in Silk Anire.” with other well known songs. “The Loss of the Roebuck" was one. We give it here entire : “ How oil; by the lump of the pale waning moon, Would Kitiy steal out from the eye of the town ; 0n the beach me she stood, when the w11d waves â€"â€"A Frpnchman has Invented a new duh and Paris has gone crazy over it. Take a. had of celery and boil the heart in vinegar water for a quarter of an hour. wipe it dry, and place it in aflsuuce made of sugar flavored with lemon juice. Serveit cold at desext. It is called crys ized celery. chill fear ; She wished to enquire of the whispering cmw, If they’d spoke with the Roebuck, or nught of The merchant turned two overhaul his cus- tomer. bur. shabby gm lied had 81 (1. Perhaps he took his poor mothel up on. awheelburrow. â€"-Detr(.it Free Press- would roll, Her eye shed a. torrent just fresh from the soul ' And, as o erthn ocean the billows would stray. Her sighs follow after us moaning as they. I saw us the ship to the harbor drew near. Hope r_er}_gle_n her check, then it blanch'd with ller {new ; For long In conjecture her fate had been test, Nor knew we for certain the Roebuck was lost. I pitied her feelings, and saw what, she‘d ask, (For innocvnce ever looks through 9. mm mask ;) 1 step: to Jack Oukum: his sad head he shook, And cast on sweet Kitty 2:. side glancing look ; The Roebuck has fuundered, the crew are no more, Noragein slmllJack Bowling be welcom’d on shore.’ Sweet Kitty, suspecting,~lnid hold of my arm : ‘ 0, tell me,’ she cried,‘ for my soul’s in elm-m: Is she lost ?' I said nothing; while Jack gave a sigh, Then down dropt the curtain that hung o'er her eye ; Fleeting: life for a moment seemed willing to stuy, Just fi-lbter’d. and then tied for ever away. So drops the pale lily, surcharg’d with the show- " Who was getting off that rigmarole to Mary. and who was Mary? We don’t connect w1th No. â€" Cass avenue ! If you don‘t stop your nonsense we'll cut you off i” er, Sunk down as with sorrow, no dies the Iweet flower; No sunbeam returning, nor spring ever gay, Can give buck the soft breath once waited away; The eye-star, when set. never rises again. Neg pilots one vgsse! mgre oyer the main 1" “ Hello ! Central officeâ€"for Heaven’s sake hello! hello! hello !” " Is there a. fire ‘2” asked the merchant. “ Fire I keep stillâ€"weitâ€"oh ! Heaven‘s ! why don’t they answer me !, Hello! Central office ! Ah ! I have them 1 Connect me with elib-oifice on Duffield street y quickâ€"life de- pends 1” “ Somebody dying ?” asked the merchant. “ Keep stillâ€"for your life keep still ! Ah ! sub-office ! Connect me with No. ~ Cass avenue as soon as you can l Hello! hello! Mary? Ah ! it is her! Maryyonr mother has been run over by a street car on Jefferson avenue and will die! I’ll bring her up in a carriage! Get everything ready! Send James for the doctor- good bye 2" “ Somebody hurt ?" asked the merchant. " Somebody hurt? No! Yes! I’m half crazy! I must get a carriage. Ah ! left my wallet at the office down the river I I’ll tell Maryâ€"no, I‘ll ask you for $2 until I come down after dinner!” down after dinner l” The merchant, looked at the fellow for a few seconds and then walked to the telephone. The sub-office was saying : The negroes in the Suutlmm States are in- tensely Republican. even the women urging the men to vote that ticket in spite of all obstacles. To Show how strong the Republi~ can sentiment is in some parts, the story is told of a coast preacher who makes his cen- gregation believe that the public-[ms in the Bible with whom Jesus Christ associated are the Republicans of today ; and he tells them that the Democrats are nowhere mentioned in that holy book. It may not be generally known that Wade Hampton. Governor of South Carolina, was the first to suggest the emancipation of the slaves in the south. His plan was to enlist; them in the Confederate nrmy under the promise of gradual emancipation. Governor Gilpin, of Colorado, at the time of the Southern rebellion, offered the chap-. laincy of a regiment to John M. Chivington, presiding elder of the Methodist church in Denver, but the minister said that if he went with the regiment he wanted to fight, and he was made in major. That he proved a ave oflicer is clear from the language of M. alle, who saw him in a lively skirmish. “ Zat Chivington," he said, “ he poothis head down and foight loike mahd Bull." But they had a greater battle than that. M. Valle thus speaks of it:â€"â€"" Gooverment mahns vae at my ranch and fill ’is canteen viz my viskey. and Texas mahus 000m 00p and soorprise zem mid zey foight six hour by my vatch and my vatch was slow.” The deadbeat permit-s nothing to get ahead of him except a funeral procession. Yester- (1-1;! a seedy genteel, who seemed to he gleatly excited rushed into 0. place on Woodward avenue and wildly inquired if they had a :ele~ phone there. Being answered in the affirm- ative. he rushed to the instrument, threw hia hat. on the finer and culled out: Love my10vor ; on the heights above me He mocks my poor attainment with a. frown; I, looking up as he is looking down, By his displeasure guess he still doth love me ; For his ambitious love would ever prove me More excr llent than I as yet um shown. So straining for some good, uugrasped, un. known, I vainly would become his image of me. And,reacliing through the dreadful gulfs that sever Our 30111531 strive with darkness \uights and ml work toward him I raise. , out; and acorns me more than Till my 1\(Who laughs, ever ; Yet his upbrniding is beyond all praise, This lover that I love IIcull Endeavor. I. I have (mother lover loving me, Himself beloved of all men, fair and true. He would not have me clumge, although I gru-w Perfect us light, becauw more tenderly He loves myself than loves whutl might be. Low at my feel; he sin a the wiutu‘ through, And never won I love to hear him woo. For in my heaven I 0th sun and moon is 119, To my bare Me n. fruitfulflooding Nile, His voice like April airs that in our isle W3} ' t V -s that slept siuc‘e‘AuLumu went; Speaking of war, when the prize-money waa withheld during the mutiny in India, a private wrote on the walls of Delhi :â€" “ When war is rife and danger's nigh God and the soldier’s all the cry. When war is o'er and danger righted, God is forgot, the soldier slighted.” Here is a pretty conceit. It is by Mary F. Robinson, a contributor to the English maga- zines. and is entitled “ Two Lovers." His wdxds are all carerssrég 111111 1115 5111116 Th who of some Eden mv1shmeut; And he that loves mu so I call Content. OUflwflPECIAl; CID LIIJIN. TI‘IE‘E NEIV GAME.