ing in after it and saving it, we should have lost poor Ruby. A most extraordinary fellow, that Irishman, by the way! He was engaged here for a week; and the other night, when we came home from the O'Melleys, we found he had levanted before his time had expired, and, strange to say, without taking away any of our goods and chattels with him, as I at first feared was likely. He left a note for me, begging pardon, explaining that he was obliged to leave for some outlandish reason, and requesting that his wages might be given to the head-gardener. I never heard of such a thing. He has been getting letters, too, it seems daily, directed to him at the post-office, to be called for. I fear he's one of those Fenian rascals; though I liked the fellow well enough, too."

Fred bit his lip, to keep in the almost irresistible laugh, and then rose to shake hands with Miss Raymond, who now entered the room. Poor Esther was in a dreadful state of confusion, and her face got red and white by turns, in spite of herself. However, as they almost immediately went in to lunch, her duties as hostess occupied her, and helped her a good deal. Mr. Raymond did most of the speaking; and, though Fred's efforts at conversation were rather spasmodic, and very unlike his usual easy flow of talk, the meal passed off well enough. After lunch Mr. Raymond asked Fred to go out with him to the garden, and inspect the flowers. "My daughter," he said, "will join us after she writes one or two letters which I wish sent off at once." So Esther was left in the house, and the two gentlemen went out into the garden.

"Now or never," thought Fred; "I must not lose this oppor-1 tunity."

"Mr. Raymond," he said, aloud, "I have come down here, on your kind invitation, to see your beautiful villa and grounds; but my main object was a very much more serious one-to ask your permission to propose for the hand of your daughter."

It must be admitted that Fred had the knack of going very directly to the point; and so Mr. Raymond thought, as he answered:

"You do surprise me, Mr. Redestone, very much indeed; for though, to tell you the truth, my old friend O'Melley gave me a hint that something of that kind was going on"-("The traitor!" muttered Fred between his teeth; "it's a good thing I did not let the General into the secret of my gardening exploit !")-"I never dreamt of anything so precipitate as this."

Then Fred pressed his suit long and urgently, and appealed to Mr. Raymond more eloquently and more powerfully than ever he had done, or could do, to a jury. It would have required very strong objections, and a very stubborn heart, successfully to resist his earnest pleading. There was no doubting the honest look in that flushed and handsome face, and the genuine feeling ringing in those words. Mr. Raymond

felt his objections gradually being overthrown, in spite of all he could say-not by Fred's arguments, but simply by the force and power of his passion, as it shone in his eyes and sounded in his tones. He had quite taken a liking for Fred the first time they met, and the liking had increased each time he saw him. His kindly and genial heart was touched as he listened to Redestone so eagerly urging his suit; and at last he fairly gave way, and thus answered Fred's appeal :

"Though I have known you for so short a time, Mr. Redestone, yet, to speak frankly, I know all about you, and your family and position, both from General O'Melley and from others; and while I think a little time for you to know each other would be advantageous, yet I do not forbid you to address my daughter as you desire."

Fred was most profuse in his thanks, and fairly won Mr. Raymond's heart by the way in which he expressed his gratitude.

"If my daughter," thought Mr. Raymond, "can resist that kind of pleading, it's a deal more than I can. But they're curious creatures, women-curious creatures: all; susceptibility in some matters, and as hard and unimpressionable as iron in others. The way in which my poor wife-bless her!-listened to me proposing three separate times to her before she would even give me an answer, is a thing I never could understand, and don't to this day."

Very soon after, Esther joined the two gentlemen in the lawn. Mr. Raymond, true to his promise, made some excuse, and, greatly to the consternation of Esther, left her alone with Fred. Redestone saw that she was agitated, and knew, too, that his time might be limited; so he made a bold plunge into his petition without preface.

"Miss Raymond," he said, "you know what I feel towards you. You must think me bold as well as foolish, but I trust to your generosity and forgiveness. I have sought your father's permission to address you as you know I wish, and he has consented. I now come to you with my humble request for your hand. I know I am unworthy. I can scarce believe that I dare hope, but I am urged on by a love which will not be stayed. I seek from you, I beg of you, what is far more dear to my heart than all the honours I may win, and than every happiness that can befal me."

As Esther listened to these words, her face was very pale. Very different feelings were struggling and contending within her heart; for while she could not but feel glad to be wooed so ardently, yet could she say that she really loved him? Did she really know her own heart in the matter? Could she think of promising to wed this impetuous lover, on so short a knowledge of him? Nay, was it maidenly and right, even if she did favour his suit, that her hand should be thus lightly given? True, it was now a month since she had first met him. True, not a day of all that time had passed without her thinking of him-even admiringly and kindly. True,

also, that during the past night she had not slept at all as she lay thinking, not without a feeling of pride, of the passionate words in which he had spoken his love, and of the story of his devotion (wild and reckless though it was) which he had revealed. He had proved the truth of his affection by braving the risks and the shame of discovery and ridicule, as few men would have dared to do. "Yet," she thought, "he might have restrained even his wild impassioned nature for a time, before he asked me for an answer so suddenly and so rashly." Her maidenly pride was offended, and came to her assistance; and though her face was very white, and her expression fixed and formal, she answered, slowly and with dignity, and with a strange coldness in her tones:

"Mr. Redestone, I cannot but be flattered by what you have said; but is it right that you should speak so rashly to one you know so slightly, and who has become acquainted with you only so very recently? You must pardon me if I say that you do not sufficiently consider your own position, or what is due to the person-whoever she may be-whom you so address."

The words had scarcely passed her lips when she felt how cruel they were-how, in their strict and stern justice, they ignored utterly all the little palliations of poor Fred's case. She thought how freely and generously-even if rashly, and so far inconsiderately towards her-he had given her his whole love, his proved affection, and how he had trusted to her not piercing the heart he laid bare with words of coldness and of selfish pride. She had not even uttered one word of kindness, or gentle pity, to soften the bitterness of his pain. Surely maiden pride, and a mere feeling of offended dignity, were not to be maintained at such a cost of suffering, and ought to give way somewhat before a love which forgot, not only pride, but position and station, in the ardour and honesty of its fullness and strength!

Fred's face fell, and he walked slowly on beside Miss Raymond, with all the folly of his rashness and inconsiderateness fully disclosed to his mind. He felt that he ought to have thought of this sooner. He felt that his passion had carried him too far and too fast, and that he had been shamefully blinded to what was due to the woman he loved. So, in a low and trembling and sorrowful voice, he spoke his regret and apology:

"Miss Raymond, you are right—as I believe you ever are, and must be. I humbly seek your pardon for my rude and hasty love. It is true I do not need to know you more, for I know well the nature and goodness of the prize I seek to win. But I wrongly thought that, in my words and acts, you might have seen enough to judge me, and thinking that, and loving you so dearly, I could scarcely bear to live and not know my fate!"

There was such a look of pain in Fred's face, and a'tone of such

agony in his voice, that every word cut Esther to the heart. She could not bear to think that it was her words of merciless self-assertion which produced this pain. She was right enough in what she had said, if she had only said it more gently and kindly. And after all she did love him. She knew it now, at this instant, while he was speaking to her-clearly and surely, as she had never known it or acknowledged it to herself before; and as her heart melted with pain at his sorrow the tears rose in her eyes.

Redestone stopped suddenly before her, his eyes now lit up with new hopes, as he said to her:

"You do pity me, then, Miss Raymond, and I would fain hope you may some day learn to love me. Do not still call me bold and rude, but let me take this hand, to guard and to keep till you say me nay again. Do not think unworthily of me, but trust my heart to love you faithfully until it beats no more upon this earth."

Esther had covered her face, and tried to hide her tears with her handkerchief, when he stayed her on the gravel walk; and as he took her hand gently in his own, she did not take it back from him, but allowed him to press it ardently to his heart and to his lips. Need more be said? Esther's hand was given, and her heart pledged; and with the summer sun shining down upon these two bright figures by the river side, the curtain falls upon the final scene of the last act of "FRED REDESTONE'S ESCAPADE."

Recollections of Felix Mendelssohn and His Friends.

BY DR. DORN, CAPELLMEISTER OF BERLIN.

I WAS a young man of three-and-twenty, prosecuting my legal studies in Berlin, when I first knew Felix Mendelssohn, then a lad of twelve years old. One winter's experience showed me, that though I could get through my college terms, I should never be able to pass all the necessary law examinations, as I had so much musical business on my hands. At evening-parties I was in constant request, being found very useful, as I was at once a pianoforte-player, an accompanyist, and a solo-singer-a rare combination in one individual, of which I can recall no other instances than Gustav Reichardt and Reissiger. Musical parties in Berlin at that time were at the height of their glory, and attended only by ladies and gentlemen who really loved music and cultivated it as an art, and who were able upon emergency to perform whole operas or oratorios. Tea was handed round before the musical business of the evening began, and we wound up with cold refreshments and quartet-singing.

One Friday, at the "at home" evening of my old countryman Abraham Friedländer, as I was in the midst of the well-known duet of Spohr's between Faust and Röschen, with a talented young singer, a commotion arose in the anteroom, which was most unusual, for a profound silence always prevailed when anything was going on. During the pathetic air, Fort von hier auf schönere Auen,' my partner whispered to me, "Felix is come ;" and when the duet was finished, I made the acquaintance of Felix Mendelssohn, then a lad of twelve years old, residing with his parents on the Neue Promenade, only a few steps from Friedländer's house. He apologised for having interrupted our song by his entrance, and offered to play the accompaniments for me; "or shall we play them alternately ?" he said—a regular Mendelssohn way of putting the question, which, even twenty years later, he made use of to a stranger in a similar position. At that time it would have been difficult to picture a more prepossessing exterior than that of Felix Mendelssohn; though every one made use of the familiar "Du" in addressing him, yet it was very evident that even his most intimate acquaintances set a great value on his presence amongst them. He was rarely allowed to go to such large parties, but when he did do so, the music, and the con amore spirit with which it was carried on, seemed to afford him real pleasure, and he, in his turn, contributed largely to the enjoyment. People made a great deal