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to dine, with his daughter at the Swan-with-two-Necks, they should no longer have dared to flow. One morning. in Lad-lane.

after a fitful night, in which poor Ellen's dreams had Once in London, old Maurice set bimself down in been hardly less stormy than the bellowing waves that peace, as he said, to enjoy his prosperity; and, having ever and anon awakened her as they dashed under the nothing else to do, he thought of busying himself in windows, the lonely and unhappy girl approached her finding a husband for Ellen whom he now considered casement and gazed upou the ocean hefore her raging an heiress. The first requisite for his daughter's spouse, like an angry lion, with a sudden and mysterious in his idea, would be money--the next, a sociable foreboding that those turbulent billows had been workpower of companionship; in short, a person who had ing out a passage in her destiny, and were by some wherewith to pay for his grog-the will to drink-the wild agency commingled with her future fate. As she wit to relish it in conversation with old Maurice,

cast her eye over the waters, all unstilled as they tossed Maurice had brought with him an introduction to and ever bristling with their white foam, she saw a person who was to him described as a “ respectable numerous vestiges of wreck, and knew that inore than merchant,'' residing in the borough of Southwark, and one noble fabric of human industry had been shattered, by name Mr. Wentworth Stokes. This Mr. Wentworth and that many lives must have been lost. One vessel Stokes was a gentleman who might have said to his

had been within sight totally wrecked, and boats of forty-ninth year what Kennedy the poet said to the year such as dared venture were now putting off with a view 1833.

of rendering assistance while there was yet a chance « Thou art gone, old year, to thy fathers,

But with the exception of one person who had been In the stormy time of snow,'

brought on shore, all the crew of that vessel had pe.

risbed. Ellen's curiosity now prompted her to inquire It was near Christmas, and Mr Stokes was fifty! So | the naine of the ship that had been so totally destroyed. much for his age : in other respects he was such a man The answer was, it was the “ Ellen;" all the crew as Maurice wanted for his daughter. He said he had | were drowned along with the owner; the captain was money; he proved he had a pleasant, plausible tongue; the only person saved,- he was at the But Ellen and all that Christmas he drank gin-and-water with old did not hear the rest : her wird delirious sensations had Maurice during the long evenings. Poor Ellen ! as overpowered her, and she had fainted away. Her her heart was not inuch engaged in these proceedings, presentiment was surely fulfilled.--- she was a widow !" I have not forced her to make a frequent personal As soou as they had recovered her, she sent for the appearance; but when New Year's-day came, she was captain of her husband's ship, who was at the neigh. united in the bands of matrimony to Mr. Wentworth bouring ion, and who, on learning that she was the Stukes, in St. George's church, in the Borough first, owner's wife, immediately attended her summons. A and afterwards by a priest of her own religion.

few minutes and his knock was heard at the door: a Almost immediately after her marriage her father strange foreboding tremor pervaded her frame as he died ; and Mr. Wentworth Stokes, having at his dis. ascended the stairs. The door opened-Ellen raised posal the property both of parent and child, and being, her eyes, and started to see before her the figure of as before described “a respectable merchant," imme. William Moystyn! diately applied it to the purpose of freighting a ship to the West Indies, of which he determined to be supercargo William Moystyn and Ellen had been married some himself. Either there must have been something wrong years, meeting with occasional reverses, but indus. in Mr. Stokes' character, or else a merchant of fifty iriously working their way through the world. William feels less compunction in leaving a newly-married bride was religiously inclined, and a mau of much faith in than would a young high-burn gentleman. Certain it the inercy of his Redeemer—what he suffered, he en. is, that as soon as he had engaged an active and in dured patiently-wheu he was blessed, he returned his telligent captain to take charge of his vessel, he con. blessing unto God. He lived happily, though sometimes veyed Mrs. Stokes to Herne Bay, and having procured hardly, with his wife ; and he rejoiced in the affections her a first floor in a row of houses facing the sea, bade of a parent for his children. He was of that very her farewell, and proceeded to Gravesend, there to em numerous English class of “poor but bonest.” Ellen's bark on board his own ship for a tropic clime.

property was all gone-gone with her former worthless Strangely indeed runs the currant of human destiny. husband (for it turned out he was worthless) and his Poor Ellen was now alone in the world ; left as no ship and Moystyn had nothing but wbat he earned. other young a'nd attractive child of nature was ever, One day at the end of a hard quarter he was arrested perhaps, forsaken in her experience before. She felt he could not tell for what; he did not even know by no grief for her husband's absence; her heart was too whom. On the back of the writ upon which he was often artlessly-and as she believed, almost innocently taken was the name of Miller, but he knew nobody of -wandering after her early love : but she found lier that name. The attorney who had issued the writ was self desolate-a flower with no shelter from the storm not to be found, and, as far as that action went, Moystyn a reed that inight be shaken in the wind.

to the day of his death never discovered who was the For the first few days after her husband's departure, plaintiff. It took him, however, in the first instance, she whiled away her time in watching, from the window | to líorsemonger.lane gaol, and as soon as he could get of her apartment, the vessels that were continually money enough he moved upon it to the King's Bench passing the bay. It was an occupation that more than prison, through the form of a habeas. When there, one any other filled her mind with thoughts in which she or two fresh suits were commenced against hiin by ought not to bave indulged, but it seemed thrown in real creditors ; detainers were sent down, and he her way, and she could not resist. Often it awakened | became sadly embarrassed. Long time he tried to tears for the love and memory of a being for whoin battle against misfortune ; but, after his furniture was

were stated) his creditors, instead of dividing among themselves, generously consented to assign the hapless Ellen and orphan family. It will keep them from a recurrence of the poverty they liave so long patiently endured.

UNAMBITIOUS LOVE.

“ Do I not feel a burning glow

Steal o'er my cheek when he appears ! Do not his partiog words bestow

A secret pang too deep for tears? Have not the dreams, which Love endears

Each calmer joy and hope removed ?"Oh! no ;-my griefs, my doubts, my fears,

Alone have vanished since I loved,Since, like the dove of peace, content Was to my troubled bosom sent.

He leaves me, yet I weep not ;-no!

I court no cause for fruitless pain ; True as the light of day, I know

That he will come to me again, And months may pass,-nay years,-in vain,

Before our bridal torch shall burn ; And would you have me still complain,

And mar with tears his loved return ? Nay! dearest, nay !-calm, patient love, Nor grief should tire, nor absence move.

sold, and his wife and family were turned into the streets, he almost despaired in his penniless condition, and gave himself up for lost. Ellen-fate persecuted as she was-joined him with her children in his gaol, and there they subsisted upon a sum of five shillings per week, allowed Moystyn from some seaman's society, three and sixpence of county-money, and whatever little pittance bis wife and his eldest daughter could earn by their needle. The family, however, suffered a great deal from illness : the prison at one time became full, and they had to pay five shillings per week to a chum ; and at last their indigence and destitution became excessive and miserable. Moystyn could never raise money enough to go through the Insolvent Court, and his imprisoyment dragged on year after year, wasting his constitution and consuming his frame, so that Ellen, who nursed him with affection to the last, might truly be said to have joined him in a prison like an angel of kind comfort to tend him on his journey to the grave. How he died it was my fate sorrowfully to witness ; but the denouement to Ellen's history did not transpire till the next day. The day after my last visit to him, Moystyn was carried out in a coffin. Poor fellow ! death has released him from his creditors. An inquest was held upon his body, as is customary when men die in prison. The jury in such cases invariably consists of prisoners, some of them taken from inside the walls, others chosen from the rules. On the melancholy occasion in question I was called in to give evidence, and to witness, as it turned out, one of the strangest and most terror-stricking cvents that ever occurred, perhaps, within the charmed pale of coincidence. In the course of the inquiry, I detailed to the jury the leading features of the story I have just narrated, and it commanded the most earnest attention from all present. When I had concluded it, with the sad portrayal of the scene in the deceased's where I administered the sacrament to him the evening before, there was a momentary silence-a stillness the effect of mingled sympathy, excitement, and surprise. It was broken by the fall of one of the jury from his chair in a fit of paralysis. He was an old man, and had attended from the rules.

• He had better be taken home," said the coroner. " Who knows were he lives ?"

“I know who he is," said one of the turnkeys; “but I must look in the book to see where he lives." He turned into the lobby and brought the book back.

“ John Miller, alias Wentworth Stokes, Melinaplace.”

“ Wentworth Stokes !” cried the whole room in astonishment. “ Wentworth Stokes !” shrieked Ellen (who had been dismissed after her evidence, but was then standing in the lobby)," where, where ?-let me see.” And, as they pointed to the door, she rushed in, and identified the body of her first husband!

“ Poor William ! then," exclaimed she “ our dreams are both fulfilled. He had, indeed, come over from the seas! But how he had come-or whence-or in what manner he had escaped from the wreck of his vessel, still remains untold, for Wentworth Stokes never spoke again.

It appeared that he had been for some years a prisoner in the rules under his right name John Miller, living upon a small income which he had preferred remaining in prison to giving up; and this (when facts

Mark you beneath yon hill's gray brow

A frioge of ancient elms? "Tis there He dwells. And when I gaze, as now,

I gather from the summer air Tidings of him, and promise fair

Of days when that dear home will hold Each breathing thing that moves my care

In one secure and sacred fold! Say, then,-should wayward melancholy Mingle with hopes so sweet, so holy ?

I know, that from the hour I kueel

Before the altar, never more
The world's gay splendours will reveal

For me the charm which once they wore, No glittering garb must mantle о'er

My wedded heart,- no pearly string, No garland round my brows, restore

The faded treasures of the spring ; He boasts that woman's loveliness

Shows fairest in its matron dress!

What then ?-the crowd, the wreathing dance'

The mimic scene, the festal song Denied,-joy dwells in lonelier haunts,

And shuns, like him, the prating throng. And still, our natire vales among,

Together we shall range the woods, And in sweet faucy commune long

With mountains vast and foaming floods ; Finding, while hand in hand we go, A brighter Edeu spread below.

You mock my homely joys ?-smile on !

I cannot dream beneath the skies A brighter scene,-a happier one,

Than the dear home which you despise. And think, what sweeter hopes will rise

When children hang around my knee, And tears spring up into his eyos

As he enfolds his babes and me In one long, close embrace,-that blends The love of " country, home and friends,"

Together, throngh our infant bloom,

Through life's meridian lustre, thrown,Through age's lingering years of gloom, May neither cling to earth, alone!

His kin are kindred to my own,

after them, and came back with the intelligence that His joys below, his hopes of heaven,

her aunt had gone out, and it was presumed had taken Are mine ;--and when to mercy's throne We kneel, in trust to be forgiven,

the keys with her, for they were not to be found. May the Almighty Judge deeree

After wondering and wondering over and over again For us one bright eteruity!

who could have sent the valentines, they departed, vexed that they could not get a peep at the one so

provokingly locked up in the desk. THE OLD VALENTINE.

Sophia breathed freely as her two friends left the

room : not for worlds would she have shown the pre“ You have been a long time reading that letter," cious valentine, for the handwriting was well-known to said Mrs. Brooks to her niece; “I hope it is an in. both of the girls. How she blessed her aunt for getting teresting one."

her off so handsomely about the keys; although she “ It is not a letter, dear aunt, it a valentine, and I thought it must have been accidental, for how could it have been trying to guess who sent it."

be imagined that there would be any unwillingness on “ Why, who should it be but young Fleming ? he her part to show the paper. did nothing but talk of valentines all last week,"

The gentlemen suspected of having sent the valentine, “ And that makes me think it did not come fom him ; was the last person that any gay, fashionable young who else can it be?us

lady would care to receive one from. He was Mrs. A ring at the door sent the valentine into the writing. Brook's “man of business," for so she termed him, desk ; the door opened, and in came two bright, although he transacted all her offices gratuitously. He laughing girls.

was a Mr. Samuel Day, no name certainly for a romance; “Oh, Sophia," exclaimed Ellen Douglas, a young and what was worse, he had no romance in his nature. girl, just entering life-or evening parties—" look How so refined, accomplished, and beautiful a girl as here, see what a sweet valentine, and cousin Anna has Sophia Lee could admire, nay love, a man with such an three, only think of that! Did you get one? Ah, I unprepossessing name, and so little brilliancy of chacan tell by your blush that there is a valentine in that racter, it is impossible to conjecture. If he had won desk.”

her affections by flattery, or by any of the numerous “ Let me see yours first, and then I will tell you," arts in'the power of a designing man, it would not have said Sophia ; “ three have you, Anna ? where are they ? been surprising ; but Mr. Day practised none of these ; here are two only-give me that one first, it is so he had not the most remote thought of loving Sophia prettily cut."

Lee, loveable as she was: nor did he dream that she Sophia opened it eagerly, and could not help smiling, ever could think of him as a lover. for it was one she had written herself for Ralph He walked into the parlour with Mrs. Brooks, just Fleming—she opened the other, it was hers, likewise, as the young ladies left it. Sophia blushed deeply as and lo! Ellen's valentine was from the same pen.

her eye met his, and he cast a second glance-a glance “ They are all beautifully cut and beautifully painted,” | of surprise at the emotion. Mrs. Brooks apologised said she ; " the verses are like all these kind of verses, for not returning the keys in time to let the ladies see full of love, and all that, but we do not care for the the valentine, but she remarked that another day would rhyme por for the design, you know, it is the pleasant do as well ; " and at any rate,,' said she, “ Sophia you feeling that these little bits of paper give one. We can let Mr Day see it. He came in on purpose ; I think of the gentleman-the one gentlaman-hey, met him in the street, and asked him to come in and sec Ellen ?-who would so naturally send a valentine. | Apna, dear, why did you not bring the other valentine ? “I suspect-I imagine,” stammered Sophia, “ Mr. I have more curiosity about that one than either of Day has no desire-no-". these."

“If you are averse to iny seeing it," said Mr. Day, “ Tell her, Anna, tell her all about it," said Ellen, “ I certainly can have no wish to do so. But who is looking concerned, for poor Anna had a cloud over her the happy valentine this year, my dear Sophia ?" fine face,

" That is more than she can tell,'' said Mrs. Brooks, « There is nothing to tell, Sopbia, excepting that | « for I heard her wondering who it could be.” uncle came into the room with the valentines himself, Mr. Day smiled then looked queer; for he saw that and after allowing us to read them, he begged that he Sophia was unusually agitated. might look at the handwriting. Like a simpleton I "I presume that these valentines have some charm handed him these two very eagerly, and kept back the in them—something very pleasant,” said he, “ for I third, but he insisted on seeing that too, and so, have heard of them even in my counting-house. Ralph although I had scarcely read it, I was forced to give Fleming this morning," and he turned his eye from it up. Only think of his seeing such a valentine as Sophia as he mentioned the young man's name, “ told that "

me that he had sent at least half-a-dozen to different Mrs. Brooks, who had left the room when the girls ladies." entered, now came in to ask for Sophia's bunch of keys, Sophia smiled, for well she knew who had wrote as she had mislaid her own.

them all. As to the one she had received herself, there “ Let her open the desk first," said Ellen Douglas, was no mistaking the author, there was no doubting we want to see her valentine."

that the hand-writing was Mr, Day's ; and yet he But Mrs. Brooks was in haste ; she promised, how. | looked so easy, so unconscious—he was so little given ever, to send the keys back immediately, and the girls to mysteries that she could not understand it. were compelled to wait. Ten minutes-Gifteen elapsed, Mr Day was more at ease when be found that the and they chatted on, but no keys came : Sophia went sending valentines to several other ladies had not pro

duced any unpleasant feeling. If she did not think it sent this to me. You have immitated Mr. Day's hand. was sent by Ralph Fleming, who else, thought he, did writing." she suppose would send her a valentine ? A Colonel | The young man opened it. “I assure you, Miss Gardiner came across his mind, and it was now his turn Lee," said he, “that I never wrote that valentine." to blush and look embarrassed.

“ Upon your word ?” " That Colonel Gardiner is a sorry fellow," said he “ Upon my word-but I know who did write it; turning to Mrs. Brooks,“ his servant has just sued him and surely if you showed it to Mr. Day he must have for a year's wages. I met a gentleman yesterday who owned it.” was engaged to dine with him, but on hearing of this “ It is a mistake, indeed it is a mistake. Mr. Day suit, he sent an apology.”

says he never wrote : valentine in his life.” " I honour the man who has courage to do a thing “ Well, if that is not too good a joke-why I saw like that,” said Sophia-and Mr. Day turned quickly him write it-I saw him write this very paper, I tell towards her. . “ It is not Colonel' Gardiner then,” you. Nay, you need not shake your head, Mrs. Brooks; thought he. There were but three other gentlemen I tell you, as an honest man, that Mr. Day wrote it, intimate in the house, Mr. Jones, brother to Anna and I saw him do it. Has he seen it?" Jones, the lady who had just left them, Mr. Western, “ No, il could not bring myself to shew it to him ; and a Mr. Marshall. It was Mr. Western who had indeed Mr. Fleming there is some mystery about this ; sent an apology to Colonel Gardiner, and the suspicion when did he write it? it must have been lately, for here would have rested on him, only that he was thought to is 1837, and yet-stay-| declare there has been an be an admirer of Anna Jones -he was divided between 1 erasure, for I see the top part of a 6 or a 5 above the Mr. Marshall and Mr. Jones

7, and look here, too, Gift is in paler ink: a word has “What ails you both this morning ?” said Mrs. been scratched out there. It never struck me before, Brooks, “ you are stammering and hesitating, and but the paper is not as white as the envelope. What looking as if you had been doing something wrong : can all this mean? I am more perplexed than ever, perhaps after all, Mr. Day, you sent the valentine Mr. Fleming, you could tell me all about this, if you yourself.”

had a mind." “I send a valentine !-1 do a silly thing like that! "I can say nothing more than what I have said. no, madam,” said he, raising his voice so as to make Mr. Day wrote those verses, and I saw him write them." Sophia start, “never. But I beg your pardon for “ Did he compose them too? Come, if you certify speaking so earnestly I never expected that a foolish | to his handwriting, you can say who made the rhymes." valentine could have the power of making me behave “ Indeed, Miss Lee, that does not follow. But, in. like a boy. If Sophia would but let me see it I might stead of talking pleasantly about these little papers, relieve her curiosity; perhaps the handwriting is known you are looking cross, and very like wishing for a to me—surely, my dear girl, unless it contains an offer quarrel with me, so to prevent it I will just go over of marriage, there can be no impropriety in showing it and see how the sweet Douglas looks after her valento a man almost old enough to be your father.”

tine.” Sophia had shown so much embarrassment and so The young man went off gaily, without throwiog any much bad been said about the foolish paper that she further light on the subject. The letters of the writing felt extremely awkard, and could not bring herself to were very small, and she had seen nothing like it from open the desk. “ No, no," said she, after making one any other pen. There was a particular turn to certain or two attempts, “ not now, I will just wait till I see letters, which always distinguished Mr. Day's from all Ralph Fleming-perhaps he can throw some light on others; but he had said so positively, so emphatically,

that he had never written a valentine, and Mr. Fleming “Well, if he is further in your confidence than I am had so positively asserted that he did write it, that she but he is younger and "

was very much perplexed. Her aunt could not relieve “Oh, no, no, do not say that. You are entitled to her difficulties; for, when Sophia repeated all that all my confidence, but the person I first suspected of Fleming had said, Mrs. Brooks was of opinion that having sent the paper is certainly not the one, and Mr. Mr. Day wrote the verses; but when she was reminded Fleming - perhaps he imitated the handwriting-at | that Mr. Day denied it, then she was quite as sure that any rate I will examine it again.”

he did not write them. “ Well, see him then, dear young lady, I am content Again and again Sophia examined the handwriting, now it does not come from Colonel Gardiner or Mr. and her aunt brought her a little account-book to comFleming. I saw by your countenance that you suspect pare it with the valentine. Mr. Day kept all her ac. neither of them."

counts with scrupulous exactness, transfering them from “ You saw by my countenance ?-did you not turn his large books to her miniature one, that she might at your face from mine when you mentioned their names ? any moment, at a glance, see how her affairs stood. so how could you see? Be assured that I should pot | There was not the slightest difference that either of have felt the embarrasment that I now feel, if either of | them could perceive : indeed, the result of this close these persons had sent me a hundred valentines."

inspection was. that Mr. Day, and he alone, had written “In the name of goodness, whom did you suspect ?. the valentine, said Mr Day, looking more surprised than he had ever The evening brought neither a solution nor Mr. Day; done in his life.

and his absence was painfully felt by Sophia, for she Before Sophia could answer, Mr. Fleming came in, feared that he was offended. He generally spent his and Mr. Day walked abruptly a way.

evenings with them; or, if he was engaged elsewhere, Sophia unlocked the desk, took out the valentine, be always called in for a few minutes, either before he and laying it on the table said, “ Mr. Fleming, you went or after he returned. To-morrow was her birth

it."

day, and hitherto he had always called, especially the yesterday: I was so unhappy about it that I staid by night before, to find out what little trinket or knick. myself all the evening, and yet I was half-a-dozen knackery she most wanted, that he might bring it to tinies on the point of coming here. When I finally her the next day; for he was one of those simple minded made up mind to come, I looked at my watch and found men who liked to do that which would give the most it was too late." pleasure. He thought, very justly, that if he consulted "I am sorry to be the cause of uneasiness to you," his own taste or judgment, he might not choose that said Sophia ; « but if you say nothing more about that which would be agreable to others; but he did not foolish valentine, I shall forget it myself. Come, pray make his appearance, and Sophia went to her chamber let me see what is in that box ?" with very miserable feelings. She wished there had “ Ouly a pretty set of ornaments for you, my dear never been such things as valentines.

Sophia. Here is a chain, let me put it on your neck ; "I cannot think what kept our · may of business' it is very becoming, indeed, and how do you like this from us last evening," said Mrs. Brooks," he surely watch, and these rings ?". will be here to day ; he has never missed coming to “Oh beautiful, most beautiful! and these ear-rings dine with us on your birth-day, Sophia."

and this aigrette ; every thing indeed is too beautiful " It appeared to me, aunt, that he was a little hurt to be praised. Oh how costly they are-ought you because I did not show him the valentine, and I could to have thrown away so large a sum on one so little not do it, you know, after his saying so positively that able to-" he did not write it, or send it."

“ The time, I perceive, is not far off my dear Sophia, “ Well, show it to him to-day, for, I will answer for when you will require a few ornaments of this kind. it, that he will be here presently: it is one o'clock, Tam determined to be beforehand with your loverand he generally contrives to be here early. By the for lovers generally make their betrothed a present, way, Mr. Marshall left his card here yesterday whilst you know. The writer of that valentine-nay, Sophia, you were out: here it is. P. P. C. Ah! he is going when you will require a few ornaments of the kind. I to England. What a fine-looking man he is, Suphia; , am determined to be beforehand with your lover—for do you know that I think he would fall in love with | lovers generally make their betrothed a present, you you, if he dared ?"

know. The writer of that valentine-nay, Sophia hear "I am glad then that he does not dare, for I me out-if it be this Mr. Marshall, he is fully able to assure you, iny dear aunt, that I should not fall in love cover your head with diamonds. He is possessor of with him."

inimense wealth ; but rich as he is, you shall not go “ Well, well, time enough, dear, time enough. Il portionless." hope to keep you with me several years yet. How to 6. Mr. Day, you mistake entirely. Look at the card part with yon at last, I cannot tell.”

| you see that Mr. Marshall is soon to sail for England " Oh, as to that, how often, dearest aunt, have I saw hin this morning after breakfast-andtold you that I would never he seperated from you ? “And what, Sophia ?W boever inarries me must marry you, and old Mrs. | “Why, I intended to keep the thing from your Tate, and Caty, and Peter, and little Jemmy and all." knowledge, as I did from my aunt."

Mrs. Brooks laughed and said, that unless her man " You are then engaged to him," said Mr. Day, of business Mr. Day, would take pity on her, she feared laying down the box, and walking to the window to that no one else would. She did not see the colour Aly hide his emotion. " Good Heavens!” said he to him. into Sophia's face as she made this remark ; but went self, “ why does this so painfully affect me ? ought I on talking abont it, until the man of business himself not to rejoice that she can give her affections to one so came into the room. Poor Sophia was afraid that her worthy?" aunt would repeat her observations, but the old lady, By a strong effort he recovered himself sufficiently to luckily, bad forgotten to order a particular dish for return to his seat near Sophia. He took her hand and the birth-day dinner, and she hurried out to attend gently raised it to his lips: “ Forgive me, my dear girl," to it.

said he, “ I have been for so many years accustomed to Mr. Day walked quietly up to Sophia and took her watch over you, and to care for all your wants and hand, Mr. Marshall's card was still in it, and in putting pleasures, that it goes near breaking my heart, stout as i: on the table, the name caught his eye.

you say it is, at the thought of being nothing more in “ Marshall-then it is Mr. Marshall that sent you future to yon than a common acquaintance, for a friend the valentine? I know his writing, Sophia-may I you will not then need. You have not known the have a peep at this wonderful paper to-day ?"

gentlenjan long; but I have, and he is most worthy of “ Why, your head runs stangely on this valentine, you. I presume when he returns from Europe--foolish Mr. Day—you that never cared for such trifles; some tellow ! loving you as he must love you, why does he time or other I shall show it you, but not to-day. leave you behind ?" Have you forgotten that this is my birth-day ?"

" Oh, Mr, Day, what an error you are in! Now “ Forgotten it? no, indeed; when did I ever forget hear me: I tell you truly that I refused Mr. Marshall, it ? but there is a formality now that we did without a that he is not the one who wrote the valentine, and I few years ago. Then you rised to fly to me, and " tell you as truly that I will never mary any other man

" Oh, yes, I remember, but you forget that I am a | than the one who did write it" sober, quiet girl of nineteen, and expect something far “ Tell me then, dear Sophia, is he worthy of you ? better than sugar-plums. You have a box there, and who can it be ? and wby am I, one of the most interested I am dying with curiosity to see what is in it."

in your happiness, to be kept in ignorance? You are “ No, Sophia, you care but little for that box. You in tears. Fear not, 'said he, as he gently drew her to are not like yourself to-day nor where you like yourself him, “ fear not, my dear girl, tell me all; if the want

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