BRARY "O yes, yes," said Edith Ruthven, wreathing Tracey employed every fascination in her power to her arms about the forlorn Lillian.. "Your wanderings shall now cease," continued the baronet; "if you will it, our home shall be yours as long as you wish to remain, but you must need refreshments; Edith, take the little girl to the supper room." His sister gladly obeyed, and when they left the apartment, where this interview had been held, the young baronet found himself the object of much ridicule on the part of his elder sisters, but he met all opposition in a manner which told that he meant to have his own way. That night Sir Clarence Ruthven's slumbers were haunted by dreams of the little wanderer with rich, gold-brown tresses blowing about her, the deep blue eyes which had looked up into his, and the sweet voice in which she had talked of her woes. The next morning the little girl was clad in garments which had belonged to Edith when a child, and then for the first time, she saw Lady Ruthven, the mother of her benefactor, and was ushered into the room where she sat. For a moment the child heart of Lillian sank at the hauteur pictured on her proud, pale face, and not far from her she perceived a young patrician, who might have counted eighteen summers, clad in a rich morning robe, and bending over an embroidery frame. As the baronet entered, she looked up, blushed, and smilingly greeted him. He returned the courtesy, and then approached Lady Ruthven and said: win his love, but all to no purpose; his whole "I am here," was the low, quick reply, and then "Mother, this is the little girl of whom I spoke quisitely fair and clear, and flushed on the chee to you." The lady glanced at the child, and commenced a series of rigid questioning, but the young man interposed, and she was obliged to abandon her purpose for that time at least. At length, however, she exclaimed: "A child of eleven is old enough to make herself useful; she might do a thousand services for me, when my waiting woman is not by." "No, no, mother," was the quick reply, "I cannot permit her to be a servant, I have resolved that she shall go to school with Edith." "Ah!" observed Lady Ruthven, "you think to make a teacher of her; only think of it, Arabel, what a lift for a little beggar girl," and she glanced at the young girl sitting at her embroidery frame. "Most assuredly," replied the guest, but as she met the young baronet's eye, she perceived that she had aroused his displeasure, and felt she had gone too far. For years it had been the cherished wish of Lady Ruthven, that her son should marry Arabel Tracey, and besides, she had exerted every effort to win his heart. She too, was beautiful; tall, and stately, with dark flashing eyes and a profusion of ebon hair, and more than all, she was versed in all the accomplishments of the day, but still Clarence Ruthven's heart had not been touched, and he felt a sense of relief, when her long visit at the castle ended. Time rolled on, and every year the Ruthven family went up to London, to spend the fashionable season, and bright eyes flashed, and the rosy lips of England's most celebrated belles smiled a welcome to the handsome young baronet, and Arabel by a vivid crimson; her curling, gold-brown hair fell about as he had seen it on that autumn day, as she came toiling along the highroad, but it had taken a somewhat deeper tinge, and her large, blue, glorious eyes, and, the bright dewy lips were bewildering indeed. "Can this be Lillian ?" exclaimed the baronet. "Yes, Sir Clarence, I am the little wanderer whom you sheltered five years ago." "O, Lillian, how beautiful you are! you were lovely then, and I remember the impression you made on me; the touch of your little cold hand as I drew you in, the wistfnl eyes you lifted to my face, and the earnest lips which parted when you addressed me; my heart is full of memories tonight." "And so is mine," replied the girl; "O! Sir Clarence how can I thank you for all your kindness to me, a poor little wayfarer, for the sunshine you have showered upon me." "I need no thanks, the service brought a sweet reward, but some time I intend to claim still farther compensation." "And how?" The young man looked steadfastly down into the starry eyes which drooped beneath his gaze, and the next moment the door opened, and Lady Ruthven and Edith, now settled in a happy home of her own, entered the room. The former still had the haughty manner with which she had endeavored to awe Lillian, but pleasure at meeting her son on his return from a long continental tour, softened it that night, and made her seem far more genial than was her wont. Ere long she al luded to Arabel Tracey, and said she would expect an early visit from Sir Clarence. When the ladies had retired from the drawing-room, he unclosed the door and saw his protege flitting along toward the great staircase, and exclaimed: N ot long afterward Lillian left the library and spent the night in blissful dreams. While these events had been transpiring between the baronet and his fair protege, a pair of dark eyes had been peering through a panel which had been cautious "Do not go quite yet, Lillian, come with me into ly drawn aside, and listening with an acute ear to the library." The girl hesitated, and the baronet continued: "Do not refuse me; if I have ever earned any claim to your friendship, let me have a brief conversation with you now; at least grant me a few moments' speech." The young girl obeyed, thrilled by the earnestness of his manner, and accepting his proffered arm, took her way to the library. A cheerful fire was burning on the hearth, and the wax candles glowing in the candelabra of solid silver, shed a pleasant gleam over the damask hangings, the quaint old bookshelves, the high mantelpiece, the rare articles of vertu. The baronet led his companion to a seat, and sank down on a heap of cushions before her. "Lillian, dear Lillian," he said in a deep, rich voice, "I repeat my heart is full of memories tonight; I am living over the hour when I welcomed you to the shelter of this roof; then, child as you were, I felt in my inmost soul an impulse entirely new to me, and now when after the lapse of five years I find you transformed into a young lady, my whole heart bows down to you, dearest Lillian, I love you with a depth and fervor which you cannot dream." A burning blush surged over the girl's face, her eyelids drooped, her lips quivered, but she was si lent. "Speak, I implore you," exclaimed the young man; "in foreign lands I have often pictured the time when I should again meet you and pour the story of my love into your ear, and hear my fate from your bright lips. May I hope that you return my love, or is it only gratitude, with which you regard me ?" "O! Sir Ciarence," replied the girl, "the joy of this hour repays me for all I have suffered in my dreary childhood, when after my mother's death I fled to you." "But do you love me?" asked the young baronet. "How can you doubt it?" was the low response. "I love you with all my heart, Sir Clarence." "Nay, do not give me my title-to you, I am always Clarence, and now," he added, "I will tell you the compensation of which I spoke; it is that you will give me your bright, beautiful bewildering self, that you will be my wife." Lillian hesitated a moment, ere she replied, "Dear Clarence, it seems I should be indeed blessed with such a lot, but think of your mother and her cherished plan, that you should marry Lady Arabel." Lillian, dearest, I shall never, never marry Arabel Tracey; unless you are mine, I shall never wed; promise, O promise, that you will be my bride." At length the girl blushingly yielded her assent, and ere they parted, a superb betrothal ring glittered on her small white hand, a diamond tare of fabulous cost. all that had passed; it was Lord Victor Tracey, the brother of Lady Arabel, and stalking homeward he recounted all he had witnessed. His sister listened with jealous rage, and they sat till the light of dawn stole into the room, laying plans which should separate the lovers forever. Three days after, the tocsin of war again sounded through England; another of those wars between the houses of York and Lancaster, for the crown of Britain, and known as the "war of the Roses." One day Sir Clarence was crossing the outskirts of the park, when he saw a band of men approaching, and perceived them to be a party of the Tracey retainers, on their way to meet him. That family had lately espoused a cause hostile to Sir Clarence, and the young man gazed at them with stern eyes; there was something picturesque and striking in his appearance, as he stood there clad in the costume of a Yorkish chief, the plume of his hat flaunting in the breeze, and one hand grasping his dagger, as he listened to the threatening words of the foremost, in whom he fancied he detected, disguised as a retainer, the brother of Arabel Tracey. "Ho, there," he cried, raising his hand, "surrender, or your doom is sealed." The young man was quite alone, but the thought of Lillian, his betrothed bride, and the base part Tracey had acted, steeled every nerve, and a desperate conflict ensued, but the struggle was too unequal, and the Yorkish chief was borne away a prisoner. That night, as the young man lay musing on his fate, Tracey entered and said: 'Pray, did you think I would let my sister's wrongs go unavenged? I heard your love-making to that little beggar, and I resolved to have some satisfaction for Arabel's wrongs." "That match was planned by my mother, and I have never given your sister the slightest reason to hope I should carry it out," was the firm reply. His companion muttered an oath, and added: "Give up Lillian, and marry my sister, and you are free." "Never, never, I would rather die a prisoner," and thus they parted. Three months later, the Yorkists gained a decided victory, and captured the fortress where Ruthven was imprisoned, and again he folded his beautiful Lillian to his heart. Not long after his release, a brilliant bridal train wound across the park to the village church, and clad in a robe of white brocade, and with a costly veil sweeping about her, and diamonds flashing on her arms and neck, the beautiful bride looked all unlike the little wanderer who had toiled along the highroad on that memorable autumn day. When the bridal party reached the ancestral home of the Ruthvens, they saw a tall, stately man, lingering about the grounds. "O Clarence, that is my father," said the bride, and both gazed at a gray-haired man, pacing restsoli-lessly to and fro. A few moments later, he moved into the room to which the newly-wedded pair had retired for a brief time, as he had sent an urgent message, that he might be permitted a short interview at least. "O my daughter, my poor wronged daughter," he exclaimed, "my heart has yearned for you of late; your stepmother's machinations are over, she is dead, and she wished me to beg your forgiveness for her cruel treatment. She poisoned my mind against you Lillie, and that night, when her conduct and that of your step-brother's, drove you forth a fugitive, O Lillian can you forgive ?" "O yes," replied the girl, and she presented Sir Clarence to Mr. Gray. A short conversation ensued, and then her father declared that from the fortune he had amassed, he would give her a handsome dowry. They then returned to the guests, and the wedding festivities continued during the day and evening. Lady Arabel married a Lancanstrian noble of twice her years, and as time wore on, Lady Ruthven learned to love her son's wife, and heartily approved his choice. Sir Clarence and Lady Lillian lived long and bappily, and no nobleman in all England had a more beautiful bride, than she who had once been a Little Wanderer. FORGET ME NOT. "Forget-me-not"-" Forget-me-Not"- They tell of many a glorious name One leaves his home-a foreign clime- What token charms the dreary time, The warrior's plume is waving fair; The student, o'er the midnight oil, Through all the human race, we find Of fame-or of remembrance kind, Fame! that is not for me, I know- A Yankee girl struck her croquet partner on the head with a mallet, brain fever set in, and the young man nearly died. The girl was kept under arrest until his recovery, and when he got well she married him, and now she's sorry he didn't die. "Am I Not Thine Ass?" Once two ministers of the gospel were conversing on extemporaneous preaching. "Well," said the old divine, waxing warm, "you are ruining yourself by writing your sermons, and reading them off. Your congregation cannot become interested in your preaching; and if you were called upon to preach unexpectedly, unless you could get hold of an old sermon, you would be completely confused." The young divine used all his eloquence, but in vain, to convince the old gentleman that the written sermon expressed his own thoughts and feelings, and, if called upon, he could preach extemporaneously. "As we are of the same faith," said the young minister, "suppose you try me next Sabbath morning. On ascending the pulpit, you can hand me a text from any part of the Bible, and I will convince you that I can preach without having looked at the text before I stood up. Likewise, I must be allowed the same privilege with you, and see who will make the best of it." The idea seemned to delight the old gentleman, and it was immediately agreed upon. The following Sabbath, on mounting the pulpit, his senior brother handed him a slip of paper, on which was written-" And the ass opened his mouth and spake;" from which he preached a glorious sermon, chaining the attention of his delighted hearers, and charming his old friend with his eloquence. In the afternoon, the young brother, who was sitting below the pulpit, handed his slip. After rising and opening the Bible, the old man looked sadly around-"Am I not thine ass?" Pausing a few minutes, he ran his fingers through his hair, straightened his collar, blew his nose like the last trumpet, and read aloud-" Am I not thine ass?" Another pause, in which a deadly silence reigned. After reading a third time, "Am I not thine ass ?" he looked over the pulpit at his friend, and in a doleful voice said, "I think I am, brother." An Absent-minded Man. Ex-Senator Goldthwaite of Alabama was noted for his extreme absent-mindedness, and he was occasionally seen running about the Senate trying to get out, and not able to find the door. He would have half the page boys in the Senate looking for his hat or cape, which would be all the while firmly clasped in his hand. He was much given to walking up and down the lobby, plunged in deep thought, often smoking a fragrant Havana, and entirely oblivious of all things around him. Often some cheeky page of the Senate would walk up and ask the Senator for a light. Mr. Goldthwaite would mechanically hand over his cigar, the boy would take a light, put the choice weed in his precious mouth, and hand over his old stump to the old gentleman, who would continue his stroll in blissful ignorance. It is related on good authority that, in one of his fits of abstraction, he walked into the Senate elevator, dropped a nickel into the hole back of the mirror, and calmly requested to be let out at H street. ELSIE'S VALENTINE. BY GEORGE W. GLEASON. LSIE, do you know this is St. Valentine's Day?" suddenly cried Lou Chester, turning toward her friend. "Yes, Lou," replied the little golden-haired beauty, waiting patiently for her companion to complete her toilet. But of course I won't get any valentines. Nobody knows me here?" "You may, though," said Lou, thoughtfully, as she turned back to the looking-glass and continued threading out her long, blue-black hair. "Somebody down in the country might send you one. That would be so nice, too, for I expect to receive one or more, and we could compare them, you know." Elsie Vaughan laughed. "You have so many suitors, Lou, while I have none. A valentine would be quite a treat to me, but you are so used to such things that I dare say it will scarcely be amusement for you. Heigho! I don't see why I can't have a beau! I'm seventeen years old." "You innocent little puss!" laughed her companion, flashing her brilliant, black eyes at the pretty, pouting face. "You will be troubled with beaux soon enough if you stay here. Those blue eyes of yours are irresistible, and I am only afraid you will rob me of all my admirers." "Nonsense, Lou; you know I am not half as good-looking as you; and-and-I'm only a country girl, you know, and of course these city gentlemen wouldn't deign to notice me." And the very thought of such a thing was so appallng, that the silly child blushed as red as the moss rosebud which Lou was at that moment twining in ber hair. "Just wait," said the latter, significantly. "Miss McPherson's party comes off to-morrow night, and your conquests will date from that hour. Mark my word, you will have more beaux, than will know how to manage before your month out. By-the-way, did I tell you brother Tom as coming home to attend Miss McPherson's party? I shouldn't wonder if he arrived to-day. Ibope you will like him, Elsie, but he's a terrible ear. Come; I am ready to go down at last." And the girls went tripping down stairs, to join the family in the breakfast-room. Lou Chester, the sparkling brunette, and Elsie Vaughan,the little fairy-like blonde, were inti mate friends and schoolmates, who had pursued their studies together at Canandaigua through four successive sessions; and at the same time forged the link of a pure and lasting friendship. Elsie's home was in a quiet country village, while that of her friend was in the city. After their final separation, at the close of their school-days, Elsie had been urgently invited, and had gained the permission of her parents, to spend a couple of months with Lou in the city; which is sufficient explanation of their being together on St. Valentine's Day. "If brother Tom comes to-day," said Lou, when breakfast was over and she and her friend were once more alone," he will expect to find his room dy and comfortable, with nothing neglected in the way of adornment. He is a very old bachelor in his tastes. Since you are so fond of flowers, Elsie, you may gather enough to make two large bouquets for Tom's table, while I give the servants some directions in regard to preparing his room. How long is your brother Tom going to remain at home?" asked Elsie, uneasily. "Oh, he isn't going away again at all. He is going into business with father, and will stay in New York. But why do you ask?" "I wish he wasn't coming so soon." "Why, Elsie ?" "Nothing-only I-I don't like a man in the house. That is, a young man. He will be sure to spoil all our fun." "No, he won't. I shall not let him do that. Besides, Tom is full of fun himself, and I have no doubt will join in our sports." That is just what Elsie dreaded. She said no more, however, but went away to make the bouquets that were to adorn the table of the expected arrival, secretly reproaching him for coming while she was there, and wondering why he couldn't stay two months longer, since he had already been absent six. She entered the little conservatory, and Tom Chester was soon forgotten in the pleasant task of arranging the twin nosegays. But somehow, as she moved about among the flowers-herself the loveliest flower of all-her thoughts reverted to the subject of valentines, and a modest little sigh trembled across her rosy lips as she once more reflected that nothing but disappointment was in store for her that day. "Lou will have them sent to her by the dozen, I suppose, and I do wish I could get one. But after all, it doesn't matter much. If any of the young men of Apple Creek should send me one I should only be indignant, and I am acquainted with no one in the city as yet." She had stopped for a moment in the darkest part of the warmly-fragrant place, where long shelves of green and blossoming plants rose in tiers on either hand; and she looked more than ever like a fairy, as the broad, fan-like leaves of some flourishing exotic formed a graceful canopy over her head. All unconscious of the lovely picture she made, though enshrouded in partial gloom, she let her girlish thoughts run riot, and hummed snatches of an old-time love-ballad that came unbidden to her mind. She did not hear the stealthy footstep coming along the geranium-bordered aisle, until it was quite close. Then she heard it, too late to prevent the awful catastrophe that followed. Before she could turn or fly, a pair of strong arms were thrown around her; she was clasped in a fierce embrace, that would have done justice to a grizzly bear; a bearded mouth kissed her twice, and a jolly, ringing voice cried out: "Here I am, little one! I knew I'd find you here among the flowers! There, I've given you two kisses-can't you give me one in return ?" But the "little one" did not seem disposed to do anything of the kind. With a shriek that penetrated every part of the conservatory, she tore herself from that rude embrace, and turned upon the impudent offender with flashing eyes and flaming cheeks. "Villain, how dare you?" she cried, her anger alone preventing her from fainting through fright. "Leave me this instant! Leave this house, or I will scream for help! Oh, how dare you-how dare you?" And the hot, indignant tears rushed into her eyes. The man-whose wonderfully handsome face and faultlessly-fitting clothes were certainly no excuse for such audacity-seemed utterly astounded. He started back as if he had received a physical blow, and stared at the insulted beauty with an expression of deep and painful amazement. Then he began to bow and stammer and step backward, knocking over a half-dozen flower-pots, and setting his foot on a rare specimen of cactus. "I-I-I beg pardon-I-you-that is, I-at least-ahem!-I did not know-I thoughtWhatever he was trying to say, it somehow had a tendency to choke him, and after several desperate attempts it was just as far from being said as it was at first. Overwhelmed with confusion, he suddenly abandoned the effort and fled precipitately from the conservatory, passing out through one door just as Lou Chester came rushing in through another. Lou had heard Elsie's piercing shriek, and had come in all haste, to see if anything serious had happened. She stopped and gazed in blank surprise at the unexpected picture before her. There stood Elsie, sobbing convulsively and rubbing her scarlet cheek vigorously with her handkerchief, as if to |