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THE NEW INMATE 0F HILFONT. This las'o conversation with Lucy brought my house and family at Estcourt very much tolny mind. SH oracle ed ‘2 sai at my feet you say so There were now twelve girls there. We did not profess to bring them up for gov- ernesses; but they were thoroughly well educated, whatever they might be hereaf- ' tor. Alice Harley was eighteen, and had finished her education ; she had nominally returned to her mother, but was still most of her time at Estconrt. Another of the older girls had become a teacher there; three had gone home, and three were now tutor scholars at my school. It was a school in cvery sense of the word. Miss Austin had the general charge and super- intendence. There were two or three other teachers, and occasional masters came from town. The children went home at their holidays, when they had homes to go to ; when they had none, they remained with : Miss Austin. They were well cared for in every way, and seemed very happy. 90 much for my educational institute. “lo had a homelier school in Estbourn, where a great many children got- their education, and which cleared my conscience of the sin of bringing up the Escourt girls too daintily, as some people said. My twelva were daughters of poor gentlemen. I wanted to treat them as if they were simply at school, and not recipients of charity; and I confess it cost me a. pangâ€"not to say a considerable flush of indignation and resentmentâ€"to find that Lucy Crofton had need to excuse herself from the imputation of "look" 1. down upon” my young scholars, and . ine ex- planatory, and as near pa:het.o as it was her nature to be, to demonstrate that she herself was really no better than they were. No better ! No better than Alice Harley! It_was, indeed, very easy to believe that. tavomble Verdi ance was somet for. I held 012 astonishment, I could scarcely 4 wish I fascidiou “Our Clara it look like a think Clara sh Much perturbed I stood leaning against; my window, listlessly looking out, when I 1aw a very fine carriage coming up the hill, . so fine a carriage that everybody near knew it nearly a mile off. It belonged to the Sedgewicks, of \Vatcrflag, or rather t) o d Mrs. Sedgewick, acapital old lady, who had married the late Mr Seilgewick, when l he wasapoor discarded second son, her- self of a very humble class, but had made him an excellent \ ife, and gained everybody’s respect when she came to this kingdom. The only symptom of vulgar taste which the old lady showed was this same carriage, which was truly fine enough for a. Lord Mayor. Wondering whatcould have brought the old lady a journey of twenty miles on a December day to call on me. I turned hastily to change my dressing gown for a more dignified array. But this important matter was not completed when two soft taps came to my door. Before the door could be opened these two taps were repeated. running into a whispering suc- cession of little taps, full of an eager, youth- ful impatience, as distinctly told as if the knocks had been words, and in came Alice and Clara Harley, skybright, blushing, confused, full of something to tell. Alice, ! who was most confused of the two, led her ' sister; while Clara came dropping in with ai shy, noiseless step, holding down-her head, I and had dmpped into my arms or ever I was aware, saying nothing, and looking as! though it was everybody’s duty to kiss her, ‘ and her own to droop her pretty head and submit to the same. What possible con- nection there could be between the Harleys and old Mrs. Sedgewick's fine carriage, I could not guess for my life. I kissed Ulara with very good will, but I looked to Alice for an explanation. What did it mean? “Oh, we came to tell you," said Alice, all breathless with haste and excitement, “it tell you,“ said Alice, “Mrs. Sedgewick her- self brought; us. We came to tell you first, even before mummu ; andcheu we are going to mamma ; and I only heard of in the first, time last night 1” "But, whacis it, Alice? am I never to hear ‘2" said I, suspecting at has what this mighty secret, must be, and full of anxiew. Hugh Sedg himself on hxs beueuh him, finest, gentlen‘ in the county I wasa good deal occupied with these thoughts this afternoon, though nobody was aware of it. To tell the truth, Lucy s at- tentions put me in ft very frequent fret, and made me very often rather ashamed of myself, as I indemnified myself by saying nothing about these unintentional but very irritating ofienses, and so began slowly to lose my character for good temper in the house. I was in my own dressing-mom, considering on this matter of Esicourt, wondering if itcould really hurt the gzris in their future life, and haif inclined to beiieve that I had done them more harm than good; fbr, after all, what in education? What does it matter to most women, or indeed to most men, if truth Were told, that they have been taught ever so many things be- yond the reading and writing, those gifts of nature, which are the true practical and primitive benefits of civilization? My girls might easily have acquired these any- where. Had I really injured, to a much greater degree than I had advantaged them, by bringing upon their names the sigma of a charity school? “Oh, we elme to tell you,‘ breathless with haste and c is (Iiara, ibls nor. me." “What is it, Clam?” said meat. Then 1L come out in a. burstâ€". “ Clara. going [.0 be marriei. It is Mr. Sedgewic \Ve had met him such a. great many Lime but I never knewâ€"and he is verv r'nnd . her, Mrs. ( night he sail me call him “Quick tell me ! who is in, Chi};â€" is he? “_‘Oh, gear Mrs. Crofton, listen ! let; me ; and she onl I. great man . Can it. em 16 not unless 5.1! "Uh, not it and mammal. knewâ€"and he is Very fond )rofton. Mr. Sedgewickâ€" d be was my brother, and m Hugh." gewick ! he who had reven , by burning man and the CHAPTER V. 0113‘ IM A THRILLING STORY OF OLD ENGLAND. prlde &CCOL uld Bamarri only a. licci‘ Hugh Sedgewick! who: t was fame, whose appegr ling scarcely to be hope: 1'; fast, with a. minglmz o nu or my arr for the w mos marrying 1mma in am 1.2a lbiful ONCE fond of ickâ€"lash and maie lever to hat. this anxiety. but who lam is “I think mamma. and I will likely,” said I. “Stay a. mom I am too astonished to speak. wick ! but not directly ; nob dear child. It is too sudden wait.” “Blit. Clara, dear child, are you sure; do you like him enough ‘2" said I at last, as a. sudden terror struck me. She was a. great deal too young to know whether she liked him or not, and of course was startled and awed by the mystery of this love offered to herself. Clara, however, started at the words, raised herself up indignant, blushed scarleb, and exclaimed, “Godmamma !” in a bone of ofieuded wonder, like an insulted Titania. So I had nuthing more to say on that point. She was safe to love him with her whole heart. ere long, and she believed I she did it now. ' “ And godmamma,” she whispered again with a, triumphant look, as we left the (room, “he says he Wlll call me Clare. I I have always wished m be called Clare, but lnobody would ever do it until now.” The poor child! the mingling of the child and the woman in her quite overpowered me. I was affected very near to crying again. If I had been her own very mother, I could scarcely have been more foolish. \Vell, but these were still my children after all. “Yes, I said so before, godmamma,"said Clara, shaking her head. As she did so, this childish movement struck me. Such a child ‘. so tender, so young. Little Clara Harley, the poor widow‘s daughter, Whom Lucy Crofton did not look down upon, be- cause herself was no better 1 No better ! I wonder what Hugh Sedgewick would say to that : and the contrast which this sud- den snd startling intelligence brought to my own previous thoughts ; this instant an overwhelming proof that Estcourt had been no disadvantage to one, at least, 0! my children, moved to a womanish effusion of pride and pleasure. I raised Clara’s blush- ing face in my hands, and discovered, as if for the first time, whata mostlovely child’s face it was. Little Clara 1 our Clem! The being married, which was the astounding Circumstance to Alice, did not strike me so much ;butI confess, once for all, that 1 was proud, uplifted, not to say amazed, be- yond measure, to find my little Clara. Hugh Sedgewick’s choice, and therefore cried overherâ€"Alicajoining in with reailychorus as if, instead of great personal exultalion and pleasure, I Was very near upon break- did not know mamma. !” Thegirlsobeyed the magnificent old lady, seli upon “doing with a. blushing atfe was a. pleasure to 8‘ came for them very with them to the doc Sedgewick’s choice, air overherâ€"Alicajoining in as Vii, instead 9f great pe “ \Vhab, Clara?” “ Do you think 1|; i: all about me ‘2” cried extremity of her won only kiss her by way poor child, had eville be sure she‘s young; but she’ll mend of that, every day.” "She is a. very good child.” said I; “but you must pardon me for being much sur- prised. I never could have dreamt; of Mr. Sedgewick making such a. choice.” “ There it; is, you see,” said his mother, with a lively gesture. “You all of you think of his outside appearanceâ€"none of you know what a. simple heart he hasâ€"no one but me! But now we’re going to Mrs Harley’s. Give us a. glass of Wine, please, Mrs. Grafton, and some cake for the poor children, and wish us good luck, and let us go. Simon has gone on to the village to put up the horses, and get post; cattle; he’ll be back for us directly. Now, my dear child, bake a glass of wineâ€"you want itâ€" and you, too little Alice ; and tie your bonnets and wipe your eyes, and let us be ready to go.”' Thegirlsobeyed the commands of theroval and pleasure, I V735 112 my heart. “But. Clara, dear c you like him enough tol Mrs. Sedgewick sat gay and bright. a. lively old lady, in the drawing-room, talk- ing to Lucy. When we entered the. room, she too came up and kissed me. “Well.” sle exulaimed, “what do you think of it? The little one has been acting for herself: are you pleased? They haVe been so anxious about; your opinion, that. they have made me anxious too.” “Are you pleased 2’” I tone, leading her aside to “ Perfecny ! hearLily! lady, in her loudest v0 artifice; “ delighted ! a. s whom it is a. pleasure to I is not, too grand to be an and darlingâ€"of coure I an “Are you pleased ‘2" I asked in a low tone, leading her aside to put the question. “Perfectly! heartily !” cried the old lady, in her loudest voice, scorning my artifice; “ delighted ! a. sweeblibtle matron whom is is a. pleasure to look at, and who is not, too grand to be an old woman‘s pet and darlingâ€"of coure I am pleased ! And she shall be lady of the house, I can tell you, Mrs. Croftou; no old mothers in the way; and make my Hugh as happy as the day is long. I know she’s very youngâ€"t0 ture An “ Do you think 1|; is possibleâ€"could it be about me ‘2” cried the little girl, in the tremity of her wonder and awe. I could ly kiss her by way of assurance. Clam, or child, had evidemly quite given her- f up to be kissed this day, and expected thing else from all to whom her tale was ‘Ar dL‘ nay srti a grea to be -ma. less what age ‘e-ariy 3J1] away he] 3 was auv ‘ ‘Stav a. momen mamma. will so have come to m an good-by. l the beLroLhed, '11 her head. “ ‘hat :commanda of theroyal who rather prided her- thlugs hau dsomely,” ctiouateuess which it) ce. The fine carriage r shortly, and I went; Mi but she h Hugh. .’i added her pretty Harleys. Aunt,” ack to the draw- Hurleys that are all lI. :pri Hugh Sedge- directly, my say so, most 2r mortifiel In to com ou must blushing He went owingâ€"I arcer be afirst,” I an at ' glowing 1e in the not veu~ almos Tim all did not know that I was a stranger. She talked to me as if I knew all about them, and called me Miss Margaret, and I had not time to undeceive her before you came dowmstairs. ” “ He is older," said I ; “but he is a good son, and he will be a good husband." “I was interrupted by the sudden en- trance of Derwenb. “ VVhab’s the matter, Clara 2” said my hnsbond. ‘,5, The Lord M ayor’a carriage going down‘ the hill. and the little Harleys in it looking as if the sky had fallen, and they had come to igllyouâ€" what. is wrong '2” ' " “Clara Harley," said I, very demurely, “ is going to be married, Derwent, to Hugh Sedgewick, an., M. P., of Waterflag.” Derwenb’s amazement was comical to heliold. He did not believe me. and said nonsense, it was a, poor joke. Then, when conviction forced itoelf lfpon him, he danced about the room with shouts oflaughber, and at last, checked himself and looked serious, just. as I was about to be very angry. ' “ Well, he is not the first man whom a. pretty face Has made a. fool of,” said Der‘ went; “ but of all men in the world Sedgewick ! That is always the way with your_pri_gs." 'Bub month eleven CHAPTER VI. Christmas ! and all Hilfont bristled with holly, shone with bay leaves, trembled with mistletoe. Our decorations were profuse and flox id, like Derwent’s taste. Red winter berries gleamed at one everywhere, and festnons of every evergreen in existence covered the Walls. There were so many fires in the house, that the air warmed you the moment you entered at the door ; and the house was full of voices and footsteps, and many people, and glowed with hospi- tality, for which Mr. Crofton had a. weak- ness. Mary Fortescue with her two child- ren ; Robert Crofton and his wife, with their four ; the Stoke Croftons, with their grown-up daughters. made a. positive be (Vilderlnent, and confusion of family names. There were two Mary Croftons, and two Mary Fortescues, one of which latter had been Mary Crofcen, too, in her youth. Then there were three Mr. and three Mrs. Crof- tons, only two of whom called each other by their Christian names, so that all the com- mon mistakes of an assembled family party made merry our guest. at Hilfont, when some one for whom it was not, intended was always answering every observation. The old house was merry and alive with all these unusual sounds. There was always somebody playing or somebody singing, somewhere ; always a. noise of the aLEPS and voices of the Crofton boys, or Mary’s little girls ; most frequently audible indication that Der- went was romping with them. What a. father he would have been; in used to bring tears to my eyes. Alice an'd Clara had also come to fulfill their engagementâ€"Alice with her usual delight and affectionate pleasure, but Clara. with adivided heart. Mr- Sedgewick was an impetuous lover, and accustomed to have his own way. Mrs. Harley, who was doubt- iul and hesitatlng, and never knew her own mind, and Clara, a. timid little girl, who did not pretend to an opinion of her own, but did what she was told. now no matchfortheauthoritativeman of the world, and lord of the manor, who proposed to ally himself with this fallen r family. He had made up his mind that this very young bride was not to be talked over and won- dered at, by all the country for a_ whole leave .Estct of my own And then handsome. Clara. Harley was seventeen, and a. 01 two over, After all, that was only years. i; not, a. prig,” said, I rather indig- “I think he has shown himself a Mrs. Fortescue once more looked at, Clare, anda smile came gradually brightening upon her face, then it broke into a little laugh. “Do you know, Clare” she said. ‘Lhab Hugh is an old lover of mine? I believe he really once offered me his hand and heart, as the words says. That, was just before 1 was married, when he was a tyre at home for the holidays. How I laughed! And how grand he looked! I really got quite ashamed of myself," So here they were, together. The two whom Derwent Wished to unite, and the two whom I wished to unite, meeting each other every day with the most perfect glacidity, and the most provoking friendli- ness, totally unconscious of the plans laid about them ; unless, indeed, it was Lucy, who was amazingly conscious of everything; had always her eyes about her, and was a great deal more knowing and experienced in the world than any of the rest. though I was, as Denvent said almost less a match-maker than a married women who was happy herself ought to be. I thought if I could but, see Bertie Nugent married to Alice Harley I should be quite happy. I had, of course, never suggested sucha thing to either of them, by the merest whisper, nor named it even to Derwent. I think it was almost the only secret I had in the world. Our drawing-room usually so quiet, was rather a pretty sight in these long winter evenings. Mrs. Robert Grafton, and Mrs. Crofton, of Stoke, commonly fell into talk together ; both of them had families and both were learned in the sickness of chil- dren and the vagaries of young people. I almost think I can see them now, one on the sofa, one in a. great easy-chair, with the little sofa-table and lamp between them, laying their heads, or rather their caps, to- gether,over domestic economies and family troubles. Mrs. Fortescue, who was not only my husband’s sister, but my oldest friend, the Mary Crofton of my childhood. kept close to me by the same instinct. Her two little girls kept up quiet romps around her chair, if they were not with the little Croftons pouring over the Indian puzzle- boxes which Bertie had brought with. him. of the young ladies, one was at the piano, one looking over her, one working, and one sitting by the fire. The one who was working was Claraâ€" Ican notsayshe was much addicted to work, as a general principle, but I dare say the poor child was only too thankful of such a. gentle turn to her thoughts. The two at the piano were the two strangersâ€"both Mary Croitonsâ€"who were not at all unlike each other, and both very good girls in their way, which way. however, does not concern this present history; and it was Lucy who was sitting by the fire, not med- itative, but busy in explaining things to the children; sometimes remarking upon the music, ready to strike in at any pause, into any conversation. She was still in black, but the block was silk, and not so doleful as her former apparel; and nothing could be prettier than her white neck and shoulders, which looked whiter in contrast with the black dress and the little chain of jet which encircled her neck. [could not helpwon- dering where she had got'jt; but Lucy’s mourning was so complete in all its orna- ments and adjuncts that it was a standing Wonder to me. “ When is Hugh Sedgewick coming 1’" said Mrs. Fortescue, in a half whisper,look- ing at; Clara, who was too far otfto hear us. “What is the child thinking of, Clare? Is it her finery, or her new dignity, oris it. him.” 7‘ The whole together,” said I; “but I wonder why you all judge so harshly of my son-iu-law, as Derwent calls him; I have no doubt hf will be avery hapgy man.” “ Thvey aziy boys alwayslike women older than themselves,” said I; “ and I am sure, men like Hugh Sedgewick, fastidious, criti- cal, highly refined men, very often choose as he had done. I don’t know whyâ€"unless it is that they distrust all kind of art and educations, knowing it so well, and are forced to fall back upon simple nature when their hearts are concerned.” “ Poor little Clara is simple nature, certainly,” said Mrs. Fortescue, who still laughed softly to herself over her old recol- lectious; “ bub Itrust that you do not mean to sljgmatize m_e_8.s_Art ‘2”_ “ I dare say Hugh found this a. very easy wooing. No need to woo long before this lady of his love; the poor child must have given in 8.0 once, in very fright. Fancy Hugh Sedgewwk with his rueful bowâ€"I wonder she has not gone out of her witq with fear.” “ Hush, Mary, you must nor, speak so of my little girl,” said 1; “she is very young. She has never had any occasion to act for herself; but I believe even now, at seven- teen, if anything occurred to call for it, Clara. is able to vindicate her womsnliness â€"she has more in her than you believe.” “Poor pretty child, she ought to live in fairy life,” said Mary; “ she will never have any occasion to stand up for herself, I hope, I shall never forgive Hugh Sedgewink if he doés not make her very happyâ€"he can if he will." With this the conversation dropped, for the gentleman now came into the room; but I could not help observing Lucy as Mary spoke; she was seated near us, and could hear a great proportion of what was said; she had a slight smile on her lipsâ€"a. listener’s sn‘ile, somewhat amused, some- what interested, yet not very much con- cerned. Yet, I would rather she had not heard; not that I feared any mischief~mak- ing lrom Lucy, she was too good a. girl to make mischiefâ€"stillâ€"but she had heard, and there was an end of it; and nothing had been said that could do - any one any harm. Terrible Outrage by a Negro. A terrible outrage was perpetrated by a negro near Colquitt, Georgia, on Sunday. While Mary Smith, aged 14, the daughter of a farmer, was returning home from Sun- day school, she was intercepted by a negro, who attempted to assult her. She defended herself With great courage, and her assail- ant becoming furious drew his knife and stabbed her in the side. The girl’s father appeared on the scene at the moment, and a desperate encounter took place between him and the negro. The latter drew a. re- volver and fired several shots at his assail- ant, who was seriously wounded. The negro was captured by the police, and identified on Monday by the girl and her father. A mob of fifty men afterwards negro was captured by identified on Monday by father. A mob of fifty broke into the jail, seized zed him to a. wood. and h: (TO BE CONTINUED sexzed the negro and banged him. 1 Handy Man‘s "lsc for Saw Sharpening While at Work. A good mechanic will generally have his tools in good order, but through accident or the meddling ofsowcareikorignoraub individual even a good mechanic may find tools out of order and requiring attention before they can be used. Our artist the other day sketched a. car- penter who, evidently having become tired of the dull saw, resorted to ohe expedient; illustrated. Not having a. suitable vise at hand he inserted his new down backward in a. kerf in the timber on which he was working and proceeded to file ,his saw as though It; were held in the most approved manner. Some Pleasant Glimpses of the Engllsh Royal Fumlly. The letters of Charlotte,â€"~Lady Can- ning.â€"who was a personal friend of Queen Victoria, afford some pleasing glimpses of the English royal family, when the princes and princesses, some of whom are now dead, and the others married people with children of their own, were a jolly, simple and friendly group of youngsters, who won kindly interest from their elders every- where. “ The children are as merry as grigs,” she wrote from Balmoral, “ and I hear the Prince of Wales and Prince Alfred, who live under me, singing away, out of lesson time, as loud as they can.” In a letter from Windsor to her mother she says. ” Prince Arthur is really a mag- nificent child, and the queen is quite en- chanted to find he is bigger than the keep- er’s child at Balmoral of the same age, whose measurements she carefully brought; back. He has the royal look I have heard grand-mamma talk about, and which was so remarkable in the queen when a. baby. This child now runs about and climbs on chairs, and says two or three words." “ I ought to tell you of the play the other day, acted by six of the royal child- ren. It was in German verse, interspersed with choruses, sung by the little creatures “ The children acted admirably, with great spirit and without the least awkward- ness. The Prince of Wales was a. poor boy, whose only possession was a. cock, which he sold for food for his starving mother. Prince Alfred was a. rich, elderly men, in a cocked hat and brown coat. The Princess Royal was a rich farmer’s wife. The Princess Helena. 9. country boy, in little blue breech- es and braces and jacket‘rather a. polisson (rogue). Princess Alice represented an old German peasant, and Princess Louise a. very small child, dressed like her mother, the Princess Royal : but even she had her little bit to say. They did for better than we in our fOId Bling‘l Men of Spa.’ ” in parts. A little stag?» with scenery and a curtain, was put up in the oak room, and the representation took place at five o‘clock, before the Nemours and their children, tutors, governesses, me and the maids of honor only._ Stiil more pleasing is the account of a little performance gob up by the children in Windsor Castle before a small but ex- tremely friendly and appreciative audi- ence. The little actors have playeH more im- portant roles on a. more conspicuous stage since that. time. Some of their parts have been cheerful and some tragigz The " rich farmer’s wife” is now the dowager Empress of Germany, widow of the beloved Emperor Frederick. The “old German peasant,” Princess Alice, was the devoted mother who afterward died of diphtheria because she was unable to refuse a. kiss to her little child when dying of that terrible disease, although knowing that she gave it an the risk of her life. years were spent on Canadian soil. Hér husband, Mr. William Lee Plunket, is a son of the Anglican ArchbishOp of Dublin, who, immediately after the civil ceremony at the British Embassy, performed the religious one at the Anglican church in the Rue d’Auguesseau. The welcome that was extended to Lord Ava during his visit to Rue d exten Cantu Lord Dufl‘evin’s Daughter Married inHLhe A CARPENTER‘S MAKESHEPT‘ ubtl ROYAL LITTLE FOLKS. AN EXTEMPORIZED SAW VISE. Lady msm‘ P1 ican Archbishop of Dub 31y after the civil cerem Embassy, performed Ingest-e16 Lurch in the me that was 1i: visit to ace of how 1m, 0ny the the was