the same sort, and, after a short silence, said, "I sail to-morrow, sir. sir. I hope, if my life is spared, that, on my return, I shall find you well and happy, and, if I should be successthat you will he hesitated "look

ful,

upon me with more favorable eyes than you do at present."

He rose to depart. The world had left a little piece of Mr. Weston's heart unspoiled. He was touched at the thought of the sacrifice Edward was making- at the thought of that if which involves the question of life and death; he remembered his late coldness and neglect; for once, he forgot the opinion of the world, and, without consulting the wisest and best, he reached out his hand to Edward, and said, "God bless you!"

There was little conversation between Edward and Amy, the last evening they passed together. O, those sad words" the last!" With what a leaden weight do the minutes seem to press on our hearts, when their number can be counted before that shall arrive which parts us from one who is dearer to us than life! We cannot we dare not describe the parting between Amy and Edward. Such scenes are too holy for any but angels to look upon.

Amy's wakeful eye caught the first streak of early dawn, the next morning. If the wind was favorable, the vessel was to sail. We have never understood the full power of the sound of the wind, if we have not heard it at the moment when its invisible wings are bearing the object of an intense love far, far away. It seemed, this morning, as if it breathed on Amy's very soul, as it rose in prayer to God for a blessing on him she loved.

"What way is the wind?" she inquired of Ruth, who entered softly, to make her fire before she rose.

"Due west, ma'am; not a cloud as big as my hand in the whole sky."

Amy sighed heavily.

"Cheer up, Miss Amy; God is where he

was.

Mr. Edward will be taken good care of, depend upon it—he's acted so honorably."

These simple words from the kind-hearted Ruth seemed to do Amy good. She rose and dressed herself, and made an effort to appear at the morning meal, and pour out her father's coffee with something of her usual cheerfulness. Even Mr. Weston appreciated this little sacrifice to duty; for, after breakfast, he said to her, with great tenderness,

"Edward has a fair wind, my child, and his prospects are very good. I like his spirit."

Little as this may seem, it was a great deal to Amy, and strengthened her in her resolution to seek for consolation, during her separation from Edward, in a more active performance of duty, let that duty be what it might.

While they were at breakfast, Jerry arrived, and inquired for Ruth.

"O dear!" groaned out Jerry, as soon as he saw Ruth.

"What's the matter now, Jerry? and where did you come from?”

"Why, I have just come in from father's farm, and I feel so ugly about Mr. Selmar's going away."

"And so do I," replied Ruth, "and so does other folks; but what's the use of talking of it? It's fetching tow to put out the fire with."

"Well, this I know," said Jerry; "I have been as faithful to him as I knew how."

Nobody says you have not, Jerry; but self-praise goes but little ways. Don't you

want some breakfast?"

As Ruth said this, she placed a chair at the breakfast table for him. Jerry seated

himself, saying, as he did so, "Why, I don't know but I do want some breakfast; for I have nothing in my stomach but my sins."

"No wonder you groan so dreadfully," said Ruth. "But what did you want of me, Jerry?"

"Why, you see, Ruth, I have got an idea in my head."

"Have you, Jerry? Better keep it there, and make the most of it, as a sort of nest-egg."

"Come, Ruth, you are too hard upon me, considering I have had no breakfast yet."

After Jerry had done his best to remedy this difficulty, he said to Ruth, "I want to know, Ruth, if you think Miss Amy would really like Robinette?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to know anything about it," replied Ruth, very crustily. "I sha'n't meddle nor make with other folks' business again in a hurry, you may depend upon it. He that goes out after wool, comes home shorn;" and Ruth flaunted out of the room, as she said this.

Jerry, however, was not to be so easily discouraged. He was too well pleased with having an idea, to part with it till he had made some use of it. When he had finished his repast, he asked leave to see Mr. Weston.

"What is your business with me?" said Mr. Weston, as Jerry entered.

"Why, you see, sir," said Jerry, turning his hat round and round, and picking off every little scrap of dust he could discover on it, "you see, sir, it's about Robinette. My father, in the country, keeps horses; and when he found I had Robinette to sell, he bought him; and I got him to say, that if I was ever able to lay down the cash for him, he'd let me take him at the same price, with a trifle to boot for keeping."

"Well, Jerry, what of that?"

"Why, sir, when I heard that Mr. Selmar was going away, I thought that, considering how things are, you would, may-be, like to make a trade with me."

"I suppose you mean buy him, Jerry."

"Why, yes, sir, that's my idea; and I can tell you that he's as good a horse as ever snapped; and I kind o' guess Miss Amy would set more by him than any other horse."

Mr. Weston's heart was somewhat tender at the moment, and he resolved to purchase the horse for Amy. He agreed to pay Jerry his price, and desired him to bring Robinette on the 1st of January, which was at hand, but desired Jerry to say nothing about it.