ture me as he has done before, but he feels too deeply over this. I have not the heart to write further. Only about Charlie. Through Guardy's influence with some senator or other, we have got him a place as midshipman in the Naval Academy. Just the one he has always longed for, he says, and he is studying hard now to prepare for the examination in the fall. I sent to town for the books, and hear him recite every day. Don't it seem a funny thing for me to be doing? I like it, though I have led such a useless butterfly life hitherto. I want to do something to redeem it, and henceforth Charlie is my adopted brother, to share alike with me in this world's goods; that is, as far as he will. He is very proud. Robert has made me feel the sin of my life, not by his words, but by what I have heard of his own.

You know he is even wealthier than I. Yet he is a practising physician in New York, almost confining his practice to the poverty-stricken of that great city, without money or price. But I must close. Will is not gone yet, and I must send him away. Poor fellow! I am sorry if he really loves me, for I know something of love unrequited. I declare, Jo, I feel tempted to ask, like the little old woman in Mother Goose, "if this be I?" I am so unlike the Nell you used to know! This letter is for your own eyes, darling. Not even Guy's, if you love me.

NELL.

August 15th.

O Josie, how could you? I would have believed it of Guy, but never of you! But I'll tell you how I found you out. Robert had gone back to the city on business, and the days were, O so long and quiet! Not sad ones, though he had been so changed and cold to me for so long. For I was too busy to be sad. Nell busy? Yes, even idle, useless Nell has waked up to the fact that God intended no drones in his beautiful world no matter how greatly he had blessed them with riches. What do you think I have been doing? The schoolteacher in this district, a little pale sad faced woman whom I had hardly noticed before, came to Aunt Mary, who is the "Mother Confessor" to all these simple good-hearted people, with a pitiful story. Her little brother, all that was left to her on earth, had been taken very ill many miles away from her, and she could not go to him, because if she dismissed the school now, just at the time when

most of the farmers' boys were able to attend, they would be obliged to obtain another teacher, and she would lose her situation and the pitiful salary that keeps both from starvation or the poorhouse! I was out on the porch while she talked to Aunt Mary-poor thing! she did not know she had a listener! And like an inspiration came to me my plan. I said nothing to Aunt Mary or Charlie, but in the afternoon put on my sundown and walked to the little log schoolhouse. It was the hour of recess, and the young heathen were making so much noise around the house that I wondered how the little woman remained sane!

They all knew me pretty well, but were rather shy, and one or two were breaking in to "tell the teacher," when I ordered them back. I went in and found the poor thing with her head down on her desk crying, O so hard! I went up and laid my hand on her shoulder. She looked up at me with a painful smile, and tried to assume her usual "schoolma'am-ish" way, but in vain. She was a little bit distant with me -perhaps she had heard enough of my "fun-making" ways to make her so, but I went directly to the point. She was perfectly aghast at the idea, but gradually I convinced her that she would be doing me a real favor to let me take charge of her school, while she took a vacation and went to see her brother.

"But you don't know how!" she said. "It's never too late to learn," I told her. "At any rate I can use the rod and teach the "ABC" class!"

She laughed at that, but her gratitude was overwhelming. It really made me ashamed, and sorry to feel how much real bona fide pleasure I had missed by never making anybody grateful to me before! She looked like a different woman when I carried her to the depot that evening and packed her off. (You know Guardy sent me my phaeton and ponies?) I put a present in her hand for her little brother, that will help pay his doctor's bill, any how. The little woman actually cried when she kissed me good-by, and made me cry by saying she should pray for me while she was gone. And I tell you, Jo, I needed her prayers, if anybody ever did! Child, you have no idea what teaching a country school is, and I hadn't either until then. If anybody don't come out of that a second Job she must be a most hardened reprobate. I made them a

speech the first morning, and told them just the state of the case. Some of them appreciated the situation, and really behaved themselves like the children of Christian parents, but the others! I will not weary your patience by detailing the many trials to mine. Suffice it to say, that I taught that school! Two weeks!

"The teacher," as the young ones call her, is to be back to-morrow, but I've persuaded the director to have at least a month's vacation during this awful hot weather. So she will have quite a rest. She brings her brother with her. Aunt Mary was at first opposed to my taking the school, knowing that I was not very strong and it was so warm, but I talked her over. Charlie was my "right bower," as we used to say at euchre. And even Julia Chisholm came in one day and heard a class for me. Her aunt, Mrs. Howard, came one afternoon at recess. The dear old "duchess!"'

She took my face between her hands and said:

"You must give it up, my child! You are growing so pale your guardian will not let you come to us again."

I just broke down there, Jo, and cried like a child. She put her arms around me, and drew my head down on her bosom, in so motherly a way that I cried harder than ever. I talked to her more freely than I ever do to any one but you, Blossom-told her just what a careless good-for-nothing life had been mine for years, and how glad I was to find something to do in a little way to make somebody happy. It was like a poem to hear her talk then!

It was that very evening-after school, that I was sitting in the schoolroom much in the same position I had found poor Mary Allen. Only I wasn't crying. I was thinking over all my past life and more especially of the last four or five weeks, so deeply, that I heard no sound outside, no step on the floor, until I found myself in somebody's arms and somebody kissing me in quite an alarming way. Strange I wasn't scared and didn't scream, wasn't it? But some way I just felt who it was even before I looked into the deep gray eyes and read love there for me.

"My darling! my poor pale little Nell," he said, "my noble Nell, who puts me to shame with her goodness-my heroine Nell, who has conquered so bravely in her struggle with self!”

You must pardon me for writing the words, Josie. They were so sweet, so precious to me, thatI love to linger over them, with my pen, even though I know I do not deserve them. And then I learned your wickedness. How he had gone to the city, loving me although he struggled against it, believing me to be just what I seemed-a volatile butterfly "girl of the period," who cared no more for him than a dozen others, and who would laugh at his schemes of charity, and make light of anything that was dear to him. And so he found Guy. And to think Guy knew him all this time and has read all my letters! O treacherous pair! perfidious friends! Whom can I trust now? (I can't get up the tragic in spite of myself! I am too happy!) And as usual he told Guy all about himself and myself, and the wretch took him home with him and, aided and abetted by his wife, O so false and yet so fair! did, with malice prepense, permit him to read all the innocent outpourings of my young heart. Then he came back and at home learned from his mother what poor Nell had been doing all the weary time of his absence, came to the schoolhouse-and there! between you all you will have us married and settled in New York before Christmas! I shan't tell you another word, for you don't deserve it. But they say the best way to kill an enemy or treacherous friend is with love,so you may prepare when I return!

Rob and I have laughed over my school experience, and our horseback ride, and almost cried together over Miss Allen. Rob says he knows of a good place for her as matron in an orphan asylum, where her brother will be taken care of, and she have very little work to do. So they have engaged a big strong man for this school, who will not follow my plan of "moral suasion," I hope. Look for me next week, for although I shall hate to say good-by to Valley Farm, where so much trial, and through it so much happiness present and future has come to me, there are various weighty things to be done before I shuffle off this single "coil."-So good-by for a little while.

Your betrayed but happy

NELL.

EGOTISM.-All egotism and selfish care or regard are in proportion to their constancy destructive of imagination, whose play and power depend altogether on our being able to forget ourselves, and enter, like possessing spirits, into the bodies of things above us.

Fling open the gates of the Northland!

Away with ice-fetters and bars! A prince in his glory is coming.

Wearing a crown of stars. Fling open the gates of the Southland! Orange flowers your perfume shed, And bloom ye fairest blossoms,

To twine round his princely head.

Throw open your doors, O Eastland!

Nod welcome each lordly pine, And smooth the way for the coming guest, Who will rule by his right divine. O West! through your gates of sunset Let the brightest glories be rolled, And flush the banners of welcome With rarest crimson and gold.

From the land of snows eternal,

From the rock-riven mountain crests, To where, with its dreamy wanderings, The peaceful Alabama rests; From the shores of the broad Atlantic, From the pride of each olden State, Through the matchless stretch of empire, To the swing of the "Golden Gate,"

Let the welcome be shouted loudly,

Let the anthem of praise be heard,
And the heart of each favored freeman
To its inmost depths be stirred.
For a prince, a ruler is coming-

One crowned by a hand sublime-
No puerile, base-worshipped earthling,
But the youngest son of Time!

From the womb of the century olden,

That nearly its race has run,
Newborn, though fully matured, he comes,
A child, yet a perfect man!

The latest and best of its offspring-
The latest gift from above-
The one upon which is centered
The wealth of a lifetime love.
Black Walnut, Jan., 1874.
15

There's no crimson stain on his birthright,
No crashing of iron car,
No banners trailing and bloody,

No triumph of demon war;
No moaning of living and dying,

That lingered as ne'er to cease,
But he comes the glorious herald,
And the prince of a land at peace.

He wears no Medusa helmet,

His crown is no serpent's nest,
But a snowy dove, with an olive branch,
Is floating above his crest;
And the clash of bloody weapons,

And the rallying cry of clan,
Is hushed in the sweeter music
Of BROTHERHOOD and of MAN!

And Plenty comes as handmaiden,
Scattering the golden ears,
And Charity showeth a happy face
Unmarked by a trace of tears;
And Knowledge walketh boldly,
Prosperity answers the call,

And with finger prophetic Hope pointeth
To the banner waving o'er all.

Then fling your doors wide open,

North, South, and East, and West,

And welcome the son of Time who comes The latest and the best;

Let the liquid lips of the rivers

Speak welcome through all the earth, And the voices of mountain and forest Be glad at the New Year's birth!

Let the countless acres of prairie

Breathe forth their jubilant psalms, And ring out your choicest greetings With your feathery tops, O palms! And mankind join in the chorus, Forgetful of pains and tears, And each welcome the blessed presence Of the youngest of all the years.

THE Champion, an American clipper ship, had left Sydney, bound for Port Louis, having on board a valuable cargo, and eight thousand pounds in gold, which was safely stowed away in the run underneath the cabin.

The Champion was commanded by a middle-aged man by the name of Sanderson, while Harry Maynard, a young Bostonian, filled the position of mate, standing high in the estimation of the owners. The second mate was a Scotchman, a good sailor and a trustworthy officer. The crew had been shipped at Sydney, the original complement of men having deserted upon the arrival of the ship in port, tempted by the high wages offered for seamen's services. They were a desperate, hardenedlooking set, and one of their number, a huge brawny fellow, calling himself Sydney Bill, had upon several occasions shown an insolent and mutinous spirit.

There was but one passenger on board, a young lady whose parents had died in Australia, and she was going to Port Louis in order to join her uncle, a wealthy sugar planter, her only living relative. Her blue eyes, blonde hair, fair complexion and frank oval countenance had made a decided impression upon young Maynard's heart, but as yet he had refrained from making known his passion. Their eyes had often met during the passage, and the young girl's cheek would crimson with rich lifeblood neath the ardent gazes of the young sailor. In her heart Nellie De Wolf loved the handsome officer, although their acquaintance had been comparatively a short one.

The fact of the treasure being on the ship had been kept a profound secret by the captain and his two mates. It had been carried on board previous to shipping the new crew, and every precaution taken to keep the dangerous fact from the knowledge of the men.

The Champion had made a quick run to the Indian Ocean, and at the opening of this sketch lay becalmed but a short distance from their port of destination. The day had been intensely hot, and all hands

had been on deck boxing the yards about, striving to catch the full benefit of every cat'spaw that came from almost every point of the compass. It was the hurricane season, and Captain Sanderson was particularly anxious to make the harbor of Port Louis before encountering one of the terrific storms which occasionally sweep over that portion of the globe.

The sun had set in a bank of clouds that lay nestled close to the horizon. Not a breath of air was stirring; a stifled closeness pervaded the atmosphere. The crew, with dark faces and sullen looks, were clustered around the break of the topgallant forecastle, with Sydney Bill the central figure, whose burly form loomed up head and shoulders over his companions. They were engaged in an earnest conversation, carried on in low tones, as they occasionally glanced aft, where the captain, two mates and the lady passenger were visible.

All were intent upon watching the appearance of the weather, which each moment wore a more threatening aspect.

Away to the eastward the sky was dark and gloomy as the gates of death; in the west the low bank of clouds before mentioned had changed to a long lurid belt of light that threw a strange tint over the black placid surface of the ocean. The Champion rocked uneasily to and fro, while a low groaning sound seemed to rise out of the bosom of the deep, and die away in the distance in wailing tones.

Captain Sanderson walked uneasily to and fro, glancing at the horizon, and occasionally peering forward where the crew were collected. Calling the mate one side, he nervously slipped a revolver into his hand, telling him to stow it in his pocket.

"I feel nervous, Mr. Maynard; a feeling of impending danger haunts me, and I do not like the disposition lately shown by the crew. They are a mutinous set, who will give us trouble, I fear. Then the appearance of the weather indicates an approaching hurricane, and our standing rigging is poor, as you know. We must not be taken unawares, and the sooner we take in sail the better."