pectant members always do when addressing their constituents. They ought to be here soon," he continued, taking out his gold watch, "for the Earl wrote me word yesterday to expect them at half-past six o'clock this evening, and it is now nearly seven. There was not one dissentient opinio amongst the eager gazers in regard to the beauty of Lady Erlsmere, which was it deed faultless. Dark brown hair, draw a little back from the snowy brow, brigh hazel eyes, shaded by the longest lashe in the world, a delicately chiselled nose, There was a general stir of expectation with pouting rosy lips, united to a dazz! in the crowd at these words; those behind ing complexion, and a childlike expressio tried to push the front ranks more for of innocence and goodness -a fairy for ward, but the latter steadily held their of perfect proportions, and delicate hands ground, and refused to yield an inch. and feet, completed the outward semblare "Well, Maggie, girl," said a respectable of the young Countess, who was we middle-aged man, with a slight stoop in suited in personal appearance for her el his bent shoulders, and a look of habitual | tremely handsome, aristocratic husband care on his thoughtful brow-a brow a physiognomist would have admired, as it betrayed great powers of intellect, "I must be going home soon, as the night air is growing chill, and I am afraid of my cough coming on if I stay longer." "Oh, do wait a few minutes, dear father," said his daughter, a tall, handsome, dark-eyed girl, who was neatly dressed in a lilac muslin, with a nice straw bonnet trimmed with white ribbons; "it would be such a pity to miss seeing Lord Erlsmere and his bride, and Mr. Harcourt has just said they will be here directlylet me tie this woollen comforter round your neck, and that will stop your cough," and suiting the action to the word, the prudent girl drew one from the pocket of her dress and speedily adjusted it round her father's throat. "Here they come ! they come!" shouted an active lad of twelve, rushing half breathless into the throng; "I have been watching at the turn of the road, and they will be here in a moment." He proved right, for an elegant open London phaeton, drawn by four spirited grey horses, ridden by smart postilions whose blue jackets were laced with silver, dashed up at this instant, and was brought to a sudden halt at the lodge gates, by the command of the young Earl. All hats were off in a moment, and a hearty cheer was raised, and repeated again and again, till voices grew hoarse from those deafening shouts. Courteously and repeatedly did Lord Erlsmere bow his thanks; while his beautiful bride, half abashed, drew her veil closer over her blushing face. Honest Samuel Cox advanced to the carriage steps, his eyes never remove from the paper carefully placed in h hat, while, in a somewhat husky voice. he stammered forth-" Noble Earl, I an deputed by the rest of your tenants, a the oldest resident on your estate, to offe to you" here ensued a long pausevaiuly the good farmer wiped his hot brow the written words only danced mockingly before his gaze. "At last," he exclaimed, in sheer desperation, "There is no manner of use in going on; I cannot read a worl of it; but my noble, generous master, though I am no learned man, I have always been reckoned an honest one, and I can tell you that we all, down to the youngest child on your domain, wish you and your bride long years of health and happiness together Long may you both reign over us, and may an heir never be wanting to the house of Erlsmere while the world lasts"-here, catching the half blushing, half confused look of the new lady, the farmer enthusiastically added-" and your Countess is half as good as she is beautiful, you ought to be the happies: man in the world." Here Samuel, overpowered by his feel ings, gave a long and loud cheer for the beautiful young bride, which was heartily echoed from the rest of the throng, The Earl, when there was a chance of his being heard, jumped from the carriage. and warmly shaking the farmer by the hand, bestowed a warm recognition ou Mr. Harcourt, exclaiming-"This is very kind, Harcourt, of you; I must introduce you presently to Lady Erlsmere," ther mising his voice, Lord Erlsmere said— "Thank you a thousand times, my kind friends, for the cordial reception you have given me and my bride-your wishes for our mutual happiness will, I trust, by the blessing of Providence, be more than realised. Your new lady will unite with me in every useful scheme for your future improvement and comfort, and you will ever find in both her and me a ready friend and adviser in all your difficulties. We both trust to see you all to-morrow at the Castle, at one o'clock, to a dinner, which will be provided in the grounds. and a dance afterwards, when I intend to make the Countess better acquainted with you all." During this short speech the horses had been removed from the carriage, and the tenants were preparing to draw it into the Hall door. Smiling his pleasure, the Earl linked his arm through the rector's, and led him to the carriage, when he introduced him to his young bride as one of his most valued friends. The Countess cordially extended her delicately-gloved hand, and in the sweetest toned voice in the world expressed her pleasure in making Mr. Harcourt's acquaintance. "You must dine with us at the Castle tonight," said Lord Erlsmere-" nay, I will take no denial, and will myself plead your excuses with your fair wife for having robbed her of your company" so saying, he playfully insisted on the rector's getting inside. On rolled the light carriage, drawn by willing arms and stout hearts over the flower-strewn way. The school-children's curtsies were charmingly acknowledged by the fair bride, who was enchanted with their pretty faces and becoming dress. Little Lucy timidly presented her bouquet, and was rewarded by a smile, which she told her young mother afterwards was just like an angel's. smart-looking young man, of about fiveand-twenty, with a frank, good-humoured smile. His velveteen coat and gaiters, with a shooting-pouch and game-bag, clearly pointed out his profession, which was one of the under keepers at Erlsmere Castle. "Poorly enough, Will' poorly enough," said the individual addressed, who was Maggie's father! "This cough of mine, and the pain in my side, keeps me awake most nights, but this good lass of mine nurses me bravely." Young William timidly held out his hand to the girl, who gave him hers with a saucy smile, while the deepening colour on his sunburnt cheek told plainly that the bright eyes of Maggie had found their way to his heart. "Will you accept a brace of rabbits, Mr. Davies?" he continued; "Norris gave me a present of them, and I thought of leaving them at your cottage this evening.' "Thank you kindly, my lad, for your thought of an old man. My appetite is but very middling, but I think I could relish a tender rabbit for my dinner. Step in this evening about eight, will you, and take a bit of supper with us?" "Willingly,' said William, looking earnestly at Maggie, who, however, did not second the invitation; but drawing her father's arm tenderly through her own, led him home through the gathering shadows-while still those merry bells rang on-rang on as though sorrow and care were banished from the world—as if their jocund notes could never ring a sadder peal. A cheerful fire was blazing on the tidy well-swept hearth, as Mr. Davies and his daughter entered their neat cottage. Maggie carefully placed her father in his soft-cushioned arm-chair on one side of the warm fire, while she took off his damp shoes, and put on his nice list slippers, made by her own skilful fingers. Then tripping into her small bed-room, she removed her bonnet and shawl, and arranged her thick black hair before the round glass, hung against the wall. A smile parted her lips as she surveyed herself, for Maggie was quite a village belle, "How do you do, Mr. Davies ?" said a and fully conscious of her charms; but she So, crushing the bright flowers on their onward road, the bridal train moved on --love, beauty, rank, and goodness united in one golden circlet-moved on, to the glad music of the sweet church bells, to the young bride's new home. did not linger over her toilette, as she had to prepare the evening meal. It was a clean, cozy room, that nice kitchen. A loud-ticking eight-day clock stood in one corner; the half-opened doors of a neat cupboard gave a glimpse of the gay crockery placed on its shelves; the chimney-piece looked resplendent with the bright array of shining tins ranged along it; while the finishing touch was given to the home picture by a wiry brown terrier, basking before the cheering blaze, while a large tortoiseshell cat was purring with half-shut eyes on a footstool. Maggie," said her father, interrupting her as she flitted about the room on various household duties, "bring me my violin, and I will play some of the old tunes your poor mother was so fond of." Obedient to the request, his daughter opened the green case, and handed his cherished instrument to her father, who, after carefully turning up the strings, began slowly to play some plaintive airs. David Davies had a wonderful natural ear for harmony. His violin was in constant requisition at all the rustic weddings and dances in the neighbourhood, and he enjoyed for miles around the welldeserved reputation of being the best violin player in the county. A fragrant smell of fried ham, poached eggs, and nice roasted potatoes, gave welcome intimation that the hour of supper was approaching Maggie spread a clean white cloth on the round table, ranged upon it neatly plates, knives, forks, and pewter cans, while she placed in the centre a foaming jug of ale, and a bottle of home-made cider. Slowly the old man drew his bow across the chords, while the mournful tones of "Old Lang Syne," played with exquisite pathos, drew tears to the dark eyes of Maggie. Looking at her father, she saw the big drops rolling silently over his furrowed cheeks. Moved by an irresistible impulse, his affectionate daughter ran to him, and throwing her arms around his neck, exclaimed "Don't take on so, father-don't, I know what makes you weep, you have never played that air since, since;" here sobs choked her own voice. "Maggie, lass," said her father, gravely, "I once said in my passion, when Tom left us to enlist five years ago, that I would never see his face or forgive him as long as I lived, for his undutiful conduct. Now, girl, I am so far changed that l would give all I have to see him once again, and lay my hand on his head as a token of forgiveness and blessing. Oh Maggie, Maggie, we are weak, simple crea tures at the best; if the Lord dealt by as we deal by our fellow men, what would become of us when we are called from this world? But listen to me, child! If your brother ever returns, though it should not be till the grass waves green over my grave, tell him I blessed and freely for gave him, as I hope to be forgiven myself." "Oh, father, dear father!" said Maggie, clasping her hands from joy, while her bright eyes gleamed soft through tears. "I am so glad to hear you speak so. Night after night have I prayed on my bended knees for poor Tom's safety, and also that God would induce you to forgive the past, and we should all be happy together again; and now my prayer is heard, for certain and sure am I, Tom is not dead, but some day will come back uner pectedly." Here a knock interrupted her, and young William Jacobs entered, bear ing in his hand a fine large brace rabbits. "Welcome, lad! right welcome!" said David, cheerily. "Just draw your chair near the fire while Maggie takes the rab bits and hangs them up; we will have one cooked to-morrow. And now, lass, bestir thyself, and get supper ready, for we have all good appetites, I trow." Maggie soon placed the tempting dish of delicious fried ham and eggs on the table, and a wooden bowl of smoking kidney potatoes; to these she added a nice crusty loaf of her own baking, and a pat of rich yellow butter; then she told her father supper was ready. He and young William speedily drew their seats to the table, and after a short but earnest grace, said by old David, conversation flowed cheerfully on, while the good viands soon disappeared. "What a beautiful lady our good Earl has chosen for his bride," said David ! 66 "Yes," said William ;" but I have seen other faces quite as pretty, to my mind," and he looked at Maggie, who, with a rosy blush, replied, "He had no kind of taste." "Do you know, Mr. Davies," continued William, "I heard a good piece of news for me to-day. Morris, the head keeper, promised he would speak to the Earl, and as a reward for my good conduct, so he was pleased to call it," said the young man, modestly, "ask his honour to let me have that pretty little lodge in the park to live in." "My best wishes go to that same," said David, kindly, "for you are an honest lad, Will, and a sober one to boot; but," added | the worthy man, with an attempt at jocularity, in which he seldom indulged, "you must be soon looking out for a tight lass to keep things a bit straight for you. A single man to my mind is like a jug without a handle; you cannot turn him to good account." "I know not how that will be, Mr. Davies," said William, as his cheek changed colour rapidly; "maybe the girl I should like to ask would not look at a poor fellow like me; and there is but one," he added, in a lower tone, "I shall ever trouble myself to put the question to." So, amidst this merry talking, in which Maggie gaily took her part, the evening sped on. It was but the repetition of many succeeding ones, and gradually the honest love of her young lover won its way to Maggie's heart; and though the direct question had not yet been put, on account of the nervous bashfulness of William, still hope gently whispered that at some not far distant day he might call Maggie Davies his wife. Months sped on. Again the village bells chimed their gladsome peal to welcome in the birth of a baby heir to the young Earl and Countess. Time in its rapid unceasing flight had but deepened their affection, and drawn their hearts closer together since that autumn evening, nearly a year ago, when they had first entered their new home on a pathway of flowers. The roses of love were still fresh and blooming, and the thorns, which must ever obstruct the smoothest road, were blunted by the power of loving sympathy. The promises made by the Earl to his tenantry were more than fulfilled; the young Countess had become personally acquainted with them all, entered into their wants and pleasures, and materially increased their comforts. Every cottager had a written order to give to the steward of the Castle to supply them with a quart of new milk morning and evening, according to the wish of Lady Erlsmere. The village green was kept carefully mown once a week by the Castle gardeuers; and pretty rustic benches were placed under the noble trees, which shaded it at either end, where the old people could sit while they watched the sports and amusements of the younger ones. Often did Lord and Lady Erlsmere, returning from their daily ride or drive, as the case might be, pause awhile, and taking a seat under the leafy foliage, enjoy looking on for a short time at the happy faces gathered around them. Occasionally the rustic sports ended in a dance, at which David and his violin were called into play, while his brighteyed daughter tripped over the greensward with one of her village admirers. The light of the noble owners of Erlsmere Castle shed its rays far around; it was not hid under a bushel; for like faithful stewards of their Lord, they used their many talents to the best advantage; and though singularly favoured by nature and fortune, they never became arrogant or selfish, but strove to do good to the less favoured of mankind. Incessantly did these true Christians labour and work in their Master's vineyard while it was yet called day. One lovely afternoon, in early spring, when the pale primroses were studding the green lanes with their star-like blossoms, Mrs. Harcourt was seen busily at work in her garden sowing annuals, and planting out cuttings from her pretty greenhouse. A large straw hat shaded her fair face, but the golden curls drooge far below it, and occasionally, as she looked "Arthur," said his young mother, as the little fellow paused for a moment by her side, "you must not run over the * flower-beds, or papa will be very angry." "No, he will not!" replied the spoilt child, and he was off again at full speed, while Mrs. Harcourt vainly essayed to check him. "Here, nurse," she called to a very superior-looking person, who came out of the open door at this moment. "You must take Master Arthur and Bijou for a walk in the lanes; for between them," she added half laughing, “they have rooted up all the annuals from that bed I have just sown." Away walked the nurse, and soon came up with Arthur, standing triumphantly in the centre of a flower-bed, while Bijou was actively engaged in throwing the loose mould about in all directions. In the highest glee at this proposal, Arthur merrily rode his stick-horse by her side, and they soon disappeared from sight. A sound of wheels was the next interruption to the fair gardener. Looking over the low hedge which commanded a view into the private lane only belonging to the Rectory, Mrs. Harcourt saw a beau tiful little open carriage, drawn by a pair of cream-coloured ponis, with long black manes and tails. These perfect little animals were trapped in elegant silver mounted harness, with blue rosettes at their heads. Lady Erlsmere was driving this charming equipage, while a smart boy in page's livery sat behind. Mrs. Harcourt ran down the garden path, and opened the gate, just as the young Countess alighted. "How are you to-day, dear Mrs. Har court?" she kindly said, as they affectionately shook hands. Quite well," replied the latter, "and delighted to see you, Lady Erlsmere. Pray let me show you into the drawing-room." "No, thank you!" replied the Countess, "I would prefer staying in your lovely garden; but I can only remain a short time, as I have to drive over to Mordant Hall this afternoon, to invite the young ladies and Captain Sinclair to an evening party we are going to give on Wednesday. You, Mrs. Harcourt, and your husband, have promised to join us at dinner on that day, while the young people assemble afterwards." "Oh, yes," said the rector's wife, leading the way to a comfortable seat 'neath the shade of a drooping willow, on which the two ladies seated themselves; "Arthur never refuses one of your invitations, though he is very lazy about going out in general. How is Lord Erlsmere? and the baby, Lord Rivers ?" "You naughty boy !" exclaimed Martha "come here this moment, or you shall have no strawberry jam for tea to-night." Arthur hesitated; he knew Martha kept her word, and a prophetic vision of the tea-table with plain bread-and-butter, minus the tempting jam, flashing through his mind, decided him; he came at once. 'Now, then,” said Martha, taking his hand, while she stretched over the bed, and, catching Master Bijou by the nape of his neck, lifted him bodily out of the scene of his mischief, giving him two "Both quite well," replied Ida, the or three smart slaps as a reminder for the young Countess, with her lovely smile; future, which the pampered animal" dear baby is growing prettier every day; resented by fierce growls and indignantly he is so like his papa. But I must not for furring his bushy tail. get to ask after my pet, Arthur; I hopel shall see him to-day.' "You have both done mischief enough for to-day, so come along with me and I will take you down the lanes, and gather primroses, to make a chain to fasten You with." "He has just gone for a walk with his nurse," replied Mrs. Harcourt; " but she shall bring him up to the Castle tomorrow, if he is a good boy in the mean |