lages, one above the other, ject of this argument. But as I before said, was purery. Even Ellen Andrews, en-year-old magnanimity, ed this fact after her cooked to a cinder, though lued my laurels from the ne owned up.

ee years older than Maud, beauty at nineteen, and the vo little step-sisters by so = more that I have never trouble to count them. I y recollect my own father, death happened in my Indeed, even for any at age it would not have It to recall the devoted, unnood with which mother ecrated the last months of I's death, surrounding him ose exquisite delicacies of ention which only a woman cultured nature, and at the ne who loves deeply, has it r to bestow.

I often look at mother now, and marvel at her mild-eyed, placid stateliness. She has had enough of sorrow in her life-time, dear soul, to have made many a less courageous spirit bitterly despondent.

Once to see my sister Maud in all her maidenly loveliness of those old days, was seldom to forget her. Almost everybody granted the charm of those gray eyes that could shine spitefully, at certain unfortunate periods, but never sternly. She has grandmother's hair, I should judge-that is, if the old-fashioned portrait of our ancestress, that hangs in the sitting-room, is to be relied on. It is soft, curly hair, that sparkles in the sunlight, and is yellowish brown of a dim day. In short, nobody would ever have thought of calling Maud anything but pretty.

It is better to announce the fact with boldness, and pride myself upon it, like that clever woman of the ancien régime-your humble servant is very homely. At fifty I shall be a kind of genteel, church-going Meg Merrilies, or a respectable female Quasimodo, minus the hunch. But most people like me. I am not given to moods, like Maud, and I never was sulky for over ten minutes at a time during my whole life. I have thrice my sister's energy and resolution, if I may be pardoned for the apparent conceit of saying so. Mother sometimes looks at me regretfully with, "You ought to have been a man, Gertrude. You would have made your mark in the world, then."

widowhood lasted five the end of that time she an Jerome, our village docan ever more thoroughly is profession than John o saved many a life with rs as his only reward. Of her's first bloom of affecpeak, had faded away with usband's death; but she loved Dr. Jerome tenad made him a very faithore it was decreed that she n become a widow. Poor "Hush, mother;" I answer snapbears suffering with some-pishly, "there's nothing of the Liliastoic's own courage. Her type or the 'princess'-type about me. ron. I shall never forget Who accuses convention of beating us e nursed little Katy in the down? Not I. We are convention errible fever. It was the ourselves." e day on which John Jeen buried. There must be then; that brave woman he mourning-time must be little. So she watched by gh those dark hours the shadow of death-and

My delicate health would have prevented me, in those days, from assuming any active part in the management of household affairs, even if mother had been willing to receive my help. The educational charge of Lill and Katy was all that came within my sphere of usefulness. "Teaching the

NOT

written to Philadelphia, and found that the prize was not yet snatched up. The young lady's name was Miss Helen Rowe. Would mother write to Philadelphia?

Toung idea how to shoot" is not a very interesting branch of horticulture, and the pressure I took in elucidating Lill's Primer and saperintending Katy's potbooks sprang entirely, I suppose, from the love which I bore my two little As may be supposed, mother lost no Sisters Bat even these slight tasks time in following this direction, and in became in the course of time too much the course of another week matters for me An imperative medical veto were satisfactorily arranged on both put an end to their further perform- sides. I recollect feeling quite nervane spá as the schools in the villageous on the evening of Miss Rowe's exwere not thought suitable for two such pected arrival. Mother had gone in young eh aren, and as Maud insolent- the carriage our one old family-vehived in mother's face at the bare cle-to meet her at the railway-station, suggestion of her turning school-mis- and Maud, Lill, Katy, and I were toa family-governess was decided gether in the sitting-room. All that po Smother wrote to her brother the "bereaved parents" had taken pains Bobet Chauncey-Uncle Bob, as he to write in her praise could not banish eded in our household-on the from my mind a certain misgiving shot of engaging a lady for this which I felt relative to the personal A very hopeful letter soon appearance of Miss Rowe. Nothing we as from Uncle Bob. Among could be more probable, I thought, se who had answered his adver- than that the taste of these Philadelromont there had not been one agree- phians differed widely from our own. looking person. There had been Besides, I had grown to regard gov*) but cotton gloves and high ernesses in the light of a mournful beek bones and poky bonnets and sisterhood, into which only those were stacles," Uncle Bob, in his admitted who had renounced the vanitesti language, patronizingly ties of the world, and clipped off all dmother that she wanted its roses from the tree of life with the we of this sort. He knew the inflexible scissors of common **that would suit her, evidently This fancy, odd as it seems now, was Ak upon the engagement of our based, perhaps, upon an experience of * in the same light in which early years, when Maud and I had exw people would have regarded the plored the mysteries of Colburn under a selection of a sewing-ma- the grim guidance of a certain Miss She wanted something lively Jane Crowsfoot, a very Lycurgus of the apsant and well-dressed-some-school-room. pretty, too, since there were no

sense.

"I wish Miss Rowe had sent us her

"What do you expect, Gertrude?"

ble pons in the Jerome fam-likeness," I said, going to the window eting on this conviction, Uncle and looking out on the lawn, aglow Ma Aad yn up advertising, after the with a summer sunset. "I don't care day, and had made inquiries among about being shocked by anything very of his lady friends. One lady homely." akved to furnish just what was reend asal prize in the market of Maud asked, looking up from her book. Capepe, who had been living for st you with a family in PhilaUnfortunately her pupil ating girl of fifteen years old And did, and the prize was thrown The bereaved of employment. wat would give superior recomUncle Bob's friend had

1

"A fascinating beauty? If you indulge in any such delusions it would be as well, I suppose, to show you this little sketch, which I have made, in order to dispel them."

She took a strip of card-board from her pocket and handed it to me. My sister, always an admirable caricaturist

series. Lets * NA D. de Limnes a ther the fes of their 1819 era stranger 2. we believe that they ~10 - UK NST Fime of give 2 FLAT some women love to I am werna i 17 sisters inability to siera anything very the share of a connience: 1-43 she is one of bectem on the sanctity of per yay so myself. "and 1 rasi bges in no erypts but cancers of their own

fret weapest secrets.

el what there was man that impressed me that she had suffered her life; or why, when na àreaminess which I den screed came into her eyes, ps set at ane who views all faintly o past, bitter memories

སྙིད་ག

let way, that she had received news wach rendered a further continuance in her situation unnecessary. Would mother still require her services up to the appointed time? Of course mother conid only express her regret at losing Miss Rowe, and consent to her departure, sudden as it was. The thought of her absence from the home, which her loveliness and intellect had so brightened and adorned, depressed me sadly. As for poor little Lill and Katy, they were quite heart-broken at the loss of their friend.

That evening Maud and I watched Miss Rowe pack her trunk, for she was to start on the following day. While we were bidding her good-night, a circumstance occurred which has impressed itself fixedly on my memory. Maud's violent grief had found consolation in the shape of a promise from her friend that she would write often, and pay us a visit during the winter. My sister was trying to look on the bright side of her sorrow, and was already talking of her future visit.

"I shall have Emily Leveredge up from the city.” she said, her hand on the knob of the door, swinging it to empression which Miss and fro, in her childish way, as if immade upon each member of aginary nuts were being cracked by the e deepened into a sin- operation, and we shall organize the She had a rare fac- loveliest sleighing-parties and coastingg children, and a happy parties; and Cousin Charlie, who will tmplifying the knowledge be back from Europe before then, shall d to them, besides cloth- be sent for to entertain us. You haven't tractively as to make her ever heard me speak of Cousin Charlie, the school-room very valu- Helen, have you? He's the dearest or close intimacy with Maud fellow to make fun in a lonesome place Werpat long chats with mother like this!" myself and her evenings were

at away from the sitting She had a sweet, well-cultivated * a large repertoire of pretty which we were never tired of She often read aloud to us

"Is he a cousin on your mother's

side?" asked Miss Rowe, indifferently enough, folding up a garment while she spoke.

66

No," Maud answered, "he's the son of father's step-brother-Gertrude's

No Apte authors, and I noticed and my real father, you know. His hor over fell asleep, no mat

you late the readings continued.

name is Ascott-Charley Ascott. The name had hardly left Maud's y day in the middle of Septem-lips before I noticed a change dart over out three months after Miss Miss Rowe's face like a momentary arrival at The Elms, our gov- spasm of suffering, leaving her very mood to mother, in her white, with a glitter in her eyes that

ཉ་ས