the very opposite of what was intended. When once they burst the bonds of pupilage, they abuse rather than enjoy the sweets of liberty."

"But girls, Lord Laxington Partington.

from Aunt Partington to the stable-boy, were quite unequal to a sudden emergency-it threw them out of their daily routine, and they became bewildered and

"Belong to human nature as well as boys, and being more delicate, should be even less severely treated. Children of either sex should not be used like machines, but as intelligent beings."

"They have so little discretion."

"Indeed! then my young folks must be prodigies; for I can confide anything to their discretion, and it occasionally astonishes me to observe how well they exercise it. But they have plenty of liberty; the only restrictions I place upon them are verbal ones, and I cannot bring a single act of disobedience against them."

"But that system, carried too far, might, I imagine, make girls unfeminine," said the general.

"Very true, and an instance exists in my niece, who had, before coming under our charge, a little too much liberty. In spite of all, however, I think of the two systems, the liberal one is the better. If you will pardon the metaphor, I prefer seeing children at ease in their slippers, than continually pinched up in stays."

Lord Laxington had scarcely uttered these words, before a servant brought a message from his son, that he wished to see him immediately. Augustus having ridden the post-horse at a gallop, was in his dressingroom, and when his fathered entered, was changing his wet clothes for dry ones. The earl, on hearing the story, congratulated him on his narrow escape, concealing with difficulty the agitation which he strongly felt. A more affecting scene immediately ensued. Lady Belinda rushed into the room, and, falling on her brother's neck, gave way to those emotions which she had mastered so long as they would have interfered with her usefulness in assisting to restore Miss Phillips. "And are you quite safe and unhurt, my dear brother?" she asked.

Augustus kissed his sister, and tried to laugh at her fears; but his heart was too full of affection, and of thankfulness to Providence for having escaped with a fellow-creature from the danger that had passed. Meanwhile, Jemima was conveyed to bed, under the superintendence of Miss Pelham, she being the only person in the house who had the full use of her wits. The truth is that the whole of the Primley Hall establishment,

In a few days Miss Phillips completely recovered. The cause of the accident having been minutely investigated, was traced by Aunt Partington to Miss Crampton's neglect in losing sight of her pupil. "One cannot," she remarked, "leave them safely for a moment. Children have no discretion."

Lord Laxington suggested a different cause, mainly arising from the manner in which the young lady's mind and actions till the day of the accident had been "cribbed, cabined, and confined."

"Then what would your lordship recommend?" asked General Phillips.

"In the first place," was the reply, "I would allow Miss Crampton to retire upon full pay. In the next, I recommend a long visit to Laxington, and I hereby invite you all to spend the ensuing winter under my roof. Miss Partington will, I am sure, get on amazingly well with the countess; and the Misses Phillips shall take their lessons from our governess with my daughter and niece."

Though, like most maiden ladies of her age, Aunt Partington was firmly wedded to her own opinions, yet so intense was her veneration for the peerage, that she really felt she could not take upon herself to differ from his lordship. It is due, however, to her discretion to add, that no one under the rank of an earl could have possibly convinced her.

Miss Crampton was discharged upon a pension. Lord Laxington paid a second visit to Primley Hall in his way back from the Highlands, and the whole family joined him in his journey to Laxington.

It was not until late in the spring of the following year that the return visit was concluded; but before General Phillips's family had again settled themselves in Primley Hall, Lady Laxington's governess had been induced to become a member of it-the countess's health having sufficiently recovered for her to travel. She accompanied her lord to the continent, with Lady Belinda and Miss Pelham. Meanwhile, the General's daughters improved rapidly under the care of the new instructress. Their intellects expanded, their dispositions improved, and although Miss Partington kept up her muchloved rigid order in the domestic arrangements, she was at length obliged to acknowledge the superiority of the slipper over the stay system of education.

TIME'S

How cold and grey life seems! I tread
The old frequented beaten way;
But voices once beloved have fled,
Their music lingers not to-day.

Far off I hear the shepherd's song,
And over head the blackbird sings;

The stream leaps joyfully along;

The half-fledged sparrows try their wings.

The Spring's first green is on the trees, The ancient trees I loved of yore; The violet still perfumes the breezeAll seems the same as heretofore.

But they, the friends of youth are gone, And she, the loved one, far away— How cold and grey life seems! Forlorn I tread the cold and beaten way.

ON a summer morning in the early period of the Revolution, the family of Mr. Edward Elsworth were assembled at the breakfast meal. The group consisted of four persons.

At the head of the table presided Mr. Elsworth's sister, a lady of forty, very grand, very cold, and an unquestionable old maid. Opposite, a little withdrawn from the table, sat Mr. Elsworth, with an open letter spread upon his knee.

Mr. Edward Elsworth was a retired merchant, who, failing in London, had come to America and regained his fortunes. One early passion, which through all his varied career he never forgot, was a love of rural life. At fifty years of age, therefore, finding himself rich enough, and suddenly bereaved in the death of a wife whom he had loved well for twenty-five years, he struck the last balance to his ledger, and with his family of two daughters and a sister, sought in the gra

tification of his early tastes consolation for his loss, and peace for his declining years.

The two daughters were Rose and Kate.

Rose is my heroine. She was young and beautiful. The incredulous reader smiles. All novel heroines are, he says. He is very right. I am well aware myself that it is the fortune of this kind of humanity to possess a monopoly of youth, beauty, and other excellent matters, and that novelists exercise a somewhat arbitrary power in bestowing upon their creations rather more of the cardinal virtues than ordinary human nature can asspire to. But for my part, I should have no idea of waiving the ancient privileges of my tribe, even if I had not the evidence of a portrait (for be it known, the lady in question is no creation of the fancy), which portrait affords the proof positive, patent to every eye, of her beauty. And not only beautiful, but my heroine was wise and witty too, as I shall prove to you.

Mr. Elsworth looked confused, and was silent. "You see, sir," said Rose; "that if you zealous loyalists could shift off James, we, with less belief in the divine rights of kings, can shift off George."

"For my part," said Miss Sarah, coming to the rescue of her brother, "I can not understand, Rose, what you can see in these rebels to admire. As far as my observation has gone, they are only so many boors. There was Captain Arthur. Was there ever such a dunce! He had no manner, whatever. He attempted upon one occasion to walk a minuet with me, and I really thought," said the lady, growing humorous for once; "that he was a bear accidentally stumbled into coat and slippers."

"You're quite right," replied Rose, "he never should have got his appointment until he had served a campaign in the drawing-room. If I were the Congress, I'd appoint none who could not bring diplomas from their dancing masters."

At this moment there was a knock at the door presently a step in the hall, and then the entrance of a rather singular-looking personage, who was immediately addressed by the whole group as Mr. Metcalf.

He was very broad-shouldered, short-necked, and long-faced, so that the back of his head appeared to rest upon his shoulders, and his chin upon his breast. His eyebrows were shaggy and red; his hair short, coarse and red; his skin mottled and red. There was a twinkle of humor in his little grey eye, and an absurd look of affected gravity in the drawn-down corners of his mouth.

"Have you very late news of the war, Mr. Metcalf?" inquired Mr. Elsworth, after the visitor had accepted the seat offered him.

"News-plenty of it, and mad. The country is depopulated. There isn't a youth with the first hope of a beard upon his chin, who hasn't gone with young Armstrong to join the army."

66 Young Armstrong ?”

worth and Walter Armstrong a close friendship had sprung up, which was the first means of introducing Walter into Mr. Elsworth's family. Intelligent and cultivated much above his neighbors, generous, frank, and abounding with a genial and hearty humor, he soon became everybody's favorite, and very naturally between Rose and him, the idle little god, who plays such antics with us all, set mischief.

But the war came, and suddenly a gulf rolled between Walter and his friends. Walter's sympathies from the first were warmly enlisted in favor of the whigs, but he trembled at the thought that such an avowal would but too surely wreck all his hope of Rose Elsworth's love. He had not the courage to make that avowal, and, therefore, cherished his principles in secret. His inactivity and apparent neutrality exposed him to the taunts of the villagers. High-souled and fiery, this was more than he could bear. He planned and executed a brilliant exploit, which gained him an audience with Washington, and an offer of whatever reward he would accept. He begged for a commission. It was granted. He flew back to his native place, and gathered together as speedily as possible a rough, uncouth, but true-hearted company of followers.

It was now necessary to reveal his principles to Rose. To his delight and astonishment, he discovered that she was at heart thoroughly whig, and had watched his period of inaction with pain. High-spirited and heroic, these were her words:

"I should be happier, Walter, with the consciousness of your duty done, even if the consequence were your untimely death, than to see you live covered with many years and no honors."

Mr. Elsworth was sincerely attached to Walter, and the news of what he considered his defection, was a severe blow to him. In his judgment it was the greatest misfortune that could befall him.

In his daughter's, it was the greatest glory.
Miss Elsworth perceiving Rose's unpleasant position

Why, what do you mean, Mr. Metcalf? What does he mean, Rose?"

66 Walter, father, has gone to join Washington-and he is a captain by virtue of some service rendered Congress."

"Heaven bless me!" said Mr. Elsworth, rising, and beginning to walk the floor in agitation, "this is very sad. A promising youth to be led astray! Dear me, dear me! Rose, I am very sorry to say that this is certainly your fault. You have filled him with your wild, radical, and absurd heroic rhapsodies. You have made him disloyal to his king. You have put a dagger in his hand to stab at the heart of his country. Alas! I see what the end will be-disgrace and death, ignominy and the gallows."

Rose made no reply to this, but walked to the window.

Walter Armstrong, and his mother, were the only neighbors with whom Mr. Elsworth's family had established any familiar acquaintance. Between Harry Els

into another channel.

"Mr. Metcalf," said she, "how are your little charges?"

The gentleman was the village pedagogue. "Caught the spirit of the rebellion, marm, and as untractable as bulls. Bless you, there isn't a lad over fourteen who hasn't abandoned his horn-book and gone off with Armstrong. And as for the girls they're greater rebels than the boys. What do you think, marm? The other day they came marching in procession, and demanded to know on which side I was. I said 'God save the King,' whereupon they fell upon me like a swarm of bees, armed with a thousand pins, and so pinched and pricked and pulled me that there wasn't a square inch of my skin that wasn't as full of holes as a ten-year old pin-cushion. And I do believe they never would have stopped if I hadn't cried, 'Huzza for Washington.'"

Mr. Elsworth smiled in spite of himself, and the joyous Kate burst into loud laughter.

"Give Mr. Metcalf a glass of wine," said Mr. Elsworth.

"Thank you, sir. It's rather early, but a glass of wine, occasionally, between the sour cider one's compelled to drink, is an oasis-decidedly."

"I hope, sir!" said Elsworth, "that you will not be compelled to follow the example of your scholars, and turn soldier."

"Never a bit, sir." Mr. Metcalf was an Irishman, with only an occasional touch of the brogue. "I content myself with teaching the young idea how to shoot, without indulging in such dangerous practices myself."

While the wine was bringing, Rose managed to escape from the room. She went out upon the piazza, and abstractedly began to walk to and fro. She saw very well that storm and contention were to shatter the peace of the household-that between her father and herself were to arise difference, opposition, and, perhaps, estrangement.

She had sworn to love Walter Armstrong. Her heart would keep that oath at every sacrifice, and to any extremity.

Profoundly absorbed, she was suddenly startled by a voice at her elbow. It was Mr. Metcalf.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Elsworth," said he, "but I've a secret word for you."

"For me? Sir!"

"From young Armstrong, marm," and he placed in her hand a folded bit of paper. Rose opened it and read:

"DEAR ROSE: I shall be near you soon on a secret mission. Can we not meet? I shall watch for you near the old walk-the one where we last met and parted! But do not be surprised if I take you unawares in some other place-even at midnight. Mr. Metcalf is my friend. You may trust him.

"WALTER."

"I am glad of this, Mr. Metcalf," said Rose. "I shall like you all the better for being Mr. Armstrong's friend."

"Oh, thank you, marm."

"Never mind."

"But oh, I want to know."

"I shall be merry again in an hour, Sis. Tell Pete to saddle our horses. We will have a ride."

"Good! good! Pete, Pete," and off the light-hearted girl bounded, eager for the promised pleasure, and with all thoughts of Rose's sadness quite forgotten.

CHAPTER II.

ROSE found her father in his library, seated in a big, roomy, state-like chair, awaiting her approach. She went over to him, and seated herself on a low stool. "You sent for me, papa," said she. "Yes, Rose, and on a grave matter." "Well, sir?"

"I have reference to Walter Armstrong, Rose." "I supposed as much, sir. I think I know what you are going to say."

"In that case, Rose, I hope that you have come here prepared to yield obedience."

"Impose no commands on me, sir, I beseech you. You yourself must admit that my obedience to you has always been rendered cheerfully and to the letter. I could wish that it should always be so. But there is one matter on which I cannot prove false to my judgment, my heart, or to that consciousness of duty within me."

"At the sign of the birch, marm. Whenever you hear a score of throats shrieking all together at the top of the scale, you will know at once that that's the Babel where I preside."

The pedagogue bowed profoundly and backed himself off the piazza upon the lawn.

to the consummation of our union. Is it right, therefore, sir, because Walter, as by every instinct and sense of honor he was impelled to do, has come forth a champion of his country in this great struggle; is it right, I say, to turn from him, and so freely brand him with dishonor?"

"It is dishonorable, Rose, to be a rebel-it is a mighty

"Papa would like to see you, Rose, in his library." "Is he there now?"

"I saw him enter."

their effects, but wrong against your country becomes an evil that extends its bane through centuries."

"I can understand, father, why you feel as you do. It is the most natural thing in the world for you to

"Rose," said she.

"Well?"

long-treasured prejudices, your sympathies-all point that way. And so with Harry, educated in England, and nurtured into a chivalrous devotion to the king,