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sight. All the other curiosities in the room lost their interest for months and years afterwards, and their desire to know the mystery of the queer little box remained unsatisfied.

When Lizzie was eighteen years old, her mother died; Godfrey was in Philadelphia, studying civil engineering; and the young girl, now grown very beautiful and rather highly accomplished, was left alone in the cottage with her grandmother and the few servants they required. Her life became rather sad and monotonous; she pined for the society of the lost and the absent, and her grandmother became more austere and distant than ever. Notwithstanding her advanced age, she appeared to retain perfect health, never ccmplaining of sickness or ailment; but she spent much of her time alone in her room, rejecting the ready sympathy of Lizzie, even in the season of fresh mourning for her daughter. The management of her affairs she kept in her own hands, corresponding with her agent in England; but the details of household duties now devolved upon her granddaughter.

In the autumn after the decease of Mrs. Marston, Godfrey paid a visit to the village, and proposed to Lizzie to take a trip to the Falls of Niagara. No objection was made by the old lady, who seemed rather pleased that Lizzie should have something to divert her mind from sad recollections, and accordingly the young people set off on their journey. The old lady, meantime, was left in the cottage with a housekeeper, a man-servant, and two female domesties.

On the third morning after the young people had left, one of the hired girls came to the housekeeper's door, and called her to Mrs. Evelyn's room, saying that she was in a fit, and that she could not make her speak or move. On reaching the room, the housekeeper found her completely insensible. The family physician, Dr. Croft, when summoned to her bedside, pronounced her disorder apoplexy. She remained insensible for some twenty-four hours, and then expired.

There were no electric telegraphs in those days. Dr. Croft dispatched a letter to Niagara to bring the young people back; but they had gone on to Montreal and Quebec, before the letter arrived. The doctor found himself under the necessity of directing the funeral of the deceased, which was respectfully attended by the people of the village. But when it was over, no one seemed disposed to take the responsibility of staying at the house to take care

of the property, and it was left in charge of Mrs. Dummit, the housekeeper, until Godfrey and Lizzie should come back. Several days passed, and still they did not return.

Meantime, Sam Blunt, the hired man, an ignorant pig-headed fellow, took a fancy to go to the western country; and demanded of Mrs. Dummit to pay him his wages. He wanted to be off, he said, and he did not believe the young folks would come back at all. In vain Mrs. Dummit reasoned with him, and endeavored to prevail on him to remain. She had not cash enough to pay his half year's arrears; and she was not a very good financier. So, when the blockhead proposed to sell off some of the furniture at auction and pay himself, she made but feeble opposition to his proceedings. A sale of some furniture from the house, strange as it would seem, was actually made; Sam got his money and went off; and this was the last that was heard of him in our village.

When his proceeding became generally known in the neighborhood, every body said it was an outrage, and ought not to have been allowedespecially in the case of such nice people as the Evelyns and Marstons. But it was now too late to remedy the matter, and everybody, as usual, acquiesced in what could not be helped.

In a week after Sam's departure, Godfrey and Lizzie returned to their desolated home. They had seen the announcement of Mrs. Evelyn's death in the newspapers, and had returned as quickly as possible.

It was early on a fine morning in October when the carriage drove up to the door of the cottage; and Godfrey, descending from it, conducted his cousin into the parlor, where they were met by Mrs. Dummit, and speedily made acquainted with all that had passed in their absence. They were both profoundly afflicted at the loss of their grandmother. She had been their only relative in the country, the only near relative living. They were now completely orphaned.

It had been taken for granted in the neighborhood that the orphans were engaged to be married, and that they were only waiting for Godfrey to acquire his profession. So, in fact, they were; but it was not known that Mrs. Evelyn was averse to the match. She did not like the marrying of cousins. Now they were free to marry. But Godfrey had not finished his engineering, and they were both quite young. He must return to Philadelphia, and poor Lizzie must remain behind in the cottage. The dilemma was an odd one; but Dr. Croft

came to the rescue, and placed a widowed sister-in-law with Lizzie, who thankfully received her as matron and companion, which offices, fortunately, Mrs. Croft was quite competent to fill.

All this was arranged on the day of their arrival. The next was devoted to an examination of the state of their grandmother's worldly affairs. She was reputed to be wealthy; and they had both been liberally supplied with money; but the strange old woman had kept them always ignorant of the source of her income.

Godfrey went into her room to examine her papers. Sam had taken them out of her beautiful old ebony desk, as that was one of the pieces of furniture which he had thought proper to sell, and thrusting them into a closet had locked the door, leaving the key in the keyhole. On opening it, Godfrey found them in utter confusion; but he soon reduced them to order. The letters were all filed; the accounts of receipts and expenditures were for many years, and seemed to be complete; there was a bank book and check book, showing, what he knew before, that she had kept an account at the village bank, and that there were some three or four hundred dollars to her credit there. Here ended his investigations for the first day. In the evening, when he met Lizzie in the parlor, he communicated to her the unsatisfactory result of his researches. Lizzie did not seem much disturbed at it. Woman-like, she was less concerned to know where her grandmother's money came from, than to get back some of the pieces of furniture which had been sold by that stupid blockhead, Sam Blunt, the old furniture particularly. The carved arm-chair which her grandmother used to sit in was gone; a nest of carved tables, two beautiful Indian screens, some curious lacquered boxes of Japan manufacture--unique! priceless-and to crown the whole, that fine old ebony desk. It was too bad!

"By the way, Godfrey," said Lizzie, "did you find that queer little box?"

"What box?"

"Why, don't you remember the little carved ivory box, so yellow with age, which we surprised grandma looking at one day."

"Oh yes, very well. I was always puzzled about that box."

"Well, don't you remember that she put it in the ebony desk?"

"So she did."

"And didn't you find it among the papers?" "Not a bit of it. I'll look again to-morrow." VOL. LXIV.-40

"I hope you'll find it. It was the oddest thing grandma owned. It had a crown carved in relief on the lid, you know, a sort of Oriental crown surrounding a kind of a turban."

"I didn't see all that."

"I did; though we had but a few seconds to glance at it, before grandma whipped it into the desk I took a good sharp look at it. Now don't fail to hunt it up in the morning."

Presently Dr. Croft came in. He had been reading the evening papers, and was full of news. The United States Bank, he said, had failed-gone to utter ruin. He did not believe the stock would ever be worth five dollars a share. This formed the topic of conversation for the rest of the evening; and they were all very sorry for the people who had been ruined by the bank failure, particularly widows and orphans.

"Have you found that queer little ivory box yet?"

"No, not yet. I have been searching after something of more importance-the memorandum of our earthly possessions."

"I don't believe you have looked after the box this morning."

"To tell the exact truth I have not; I forgot all about it. There was the estate to search for, you know; and what was of more importance still, there was this walk with you to come off at half past six. I was up tumbling over books and papers at four."

They were out on a breezy hill, walking very briskly, and enjoying in a high degree the keen October air. They did have an interesting walk, and a still more interesting conversation on that morning, often referred to in after years. The beautiful pair, somewhat recovered from the shock of their recent bereavement, laid out plans for the future, all tinted couleur de rose. Godfrey would finish his studies; then they would be married. The cottage, sacred to remembrances of the past, should be kept as a homestead, and Lizzie should accompany her husband on his engineering expeditions, and should see, literally, "many lands"-and they would be so happy!

On returning from his walk Godfrey resumed his search among the papers. A careful examination of the closet where they had been deposited failed to disclose the hiding-place of the little ivory box; but in one corner he found a small morocco-covered blank book, in which was a memorandum of at least a portion of Mrs. Evelyn's property. First on the list was the cottage and furniture, which she valued at only

three thousand dollars. Then fifteen hundred shares in the Bank of the United States, valued at one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and two hundred shares in the Schuylkill Bank, which had failed some time before. Here the memorandum ended; and with it ended Godfrey's hopes of a handsome inheritance. All was lost but the cottage and furniture! How could he tell this dreadful news to Lizzie?

He passed the time till the late dinner-hour in revolving plans for the future; but although naturally of a firm and courageous disposition, and careless of the future, so far as himself was concerned, he was deeply concerned for the effect which the revelation of their ruin might produce on his beloved. To his great surprise, however, she made light of the affair.

"Think how infinitely worse it would have been, Godfrey," said she, "if anything had happened to you. If you were sick, or wounded, or compelled to go away and leave me for a year or two, that would be a misfortune, indeed. But this is really a matter of no consequence. Grandmother always lived so economically that I never supposed she was rich, so I suffer no disappointment. We can sell the cottage, you can go to Philadelphia and finish your studies, and I will go there and teach music till better times come, and we are ready to be married and to set up housekeeping.”

Delighted with Lizzie's sensible and matterof-fact views of the case, Godfrey readily assented to her proposal, which was forthwith carried into execution.

When they had removed to Philadelphia, however, things were not quite so easy and delightful as these sanguine young people, in the excitement of the moment, had anticipated. Lizzie, it is true, found suitable protection with a lady who had been acquainted with her mother, and who readily obtained her pupils enough to secure a handsome support. But Godfrey was annoyed at her subordinate position; it was something so strange in the aristocratic family of the Evelyns and the Marstons; it did not suit his English ideas. For himself to choose a profession was well enough; English gentlemen did it often. He would have preferred it if he had been wealthy; but his darling Lizzie seemed out of place. When it was first proposed by her, he had not realized the bare actuality of it; it seemed a pretty piece of heroism, and quite poetical. In practice it seemed a degradation. Lizzie did not enter into his views. She was fond of being fully employed; she was treated kindly by her patrons, though sometimes, she thought, a

little too condescendingly. But she laughed it off gayly, and told Godfrey she was none the less an Evelyn for being a music-teacher.

Time passed rapidly, and the education of Godfrey was nearly completed. He could now pass long evenings in the little parlor which Lizzie's kind hostess, Mrs. Jones, had assigned to her particular use, and which was quaintly fitted up with some of the old-fashioned furniture from the cottage. One evening he came in quite elated.

"I am going, with your permission, Lizzie," he said, "to make a small addition to the furniture of your little parlor."

"Indeed. I am greatly obliged to you. Pray, what have you got for me? A screen, perhaps." "No. Better than that. Guess again." "An ottoman?"

"No, indeed; you have too many ottomans already; I am always stumbling over them." "Not a work-table?"

"No, nothing of the sort; but you shall see it at once. I hear the porter who was to bring it home ringing at the door."

And presently, sure enough, it was brought in-the old ebony writing-desk of Mrs. Evelyn, covered with dust and a little bruised, but safe and sound.

"I am so delighted!" said Lizzie. "Now, tell me where you found it."

"I was passing along a narrow street in one of the suburbs, and, being attracted by the sight of a case of mathematical instruments lying open in the window of a second-hand furniture-store, to buy them; and, by the way, Lizzie, I got them a great bargain. The case is silver-mounted, and the instruments are fine-"

"Oh, never mind the instruments! Tell me about the desk."

"When I had made my purchases, I loitered a few minutes in the shop, looking at the different articles of furniture, some of which was old and very curious."

"But the desk! the desk !"'

Presently I spied it out in a dark corner; and recognizing it, eagerly inquired the price. The rogue of a dealer saw I was determined to have it, and made me pay soundly for my prize. But I was determined to have it for your sake. How do you like your present?"

"I am delighted with it. Nothing you could have brought would have been half so acceptable. Come, let us rummage over all the pigeon-holes and drawers. You know we were never allowed by grandma to see the inside of it."

"It seems to be pretty well emptied," said Godfrey, pulling out one drawer after another; "nothing left but some scraps of waste-paper. But here is a place in this corner where there is some room not accounted for. Here must be a secret drawer. I must find the spring."

He now pulled out a drawer contiguous to the space, found a spring, pressed it, and out flew a drawer without any knob or handle to indicate its existence. In this drawer lay the long lost ivory box.

"There is that queer little box, I declare," said Lizzie. "Now let us see what is in it." It was speedily opened and a brilliant flash of light dazzled their eyes, reflected from the numerous facets of an enormous diamond. It was immense. Neither of them had ever seen anything like it. It was not set. There was only the bare gem.

They took it out and held it up to the light, admiring the beams of light which it caused to flash round the room.

"I wonder what it is worth," said Godfrey.

"Who can tell?" said Lizzie. "See if there is no memorandum in the box."

"Yes, here is a piece of paper at the bottom of the box."

This being unfolded was found to contain the following memorandum in the hand-writing of Mr. Evelyn.

"This diamond was presented to me by the Nabob of Arcot, after I had cured him of a dangerous fever. Rom-di-dol-Day, who is a good judge of gems, says it is worth half a million rupees."

"I did not know that grandpa was a doctor," said Lizzie.

"Yes, he studied medicine when he was young; but getting a clerkship in India, he gave up practice."

"How much is a rupee?"

"About half a dollar."

"Then we are rich. For the diamond is certainly ours. I always thought there was something queer about that little old ivory box."

MR. FITZQUISITE-SETTLES IN LIFE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "MISS SLIMMENS."

I'm awfully tired of being cooped up like a felon. I'd give ten dollars for a good promenade on Fifth Avenue, such as I used to indulge in every afternoon before I met that fatal green merino. For four weeks I've been confined to this fifth-story back room. Might as well be boarding with the Hottentots as in the St. Nicholas, as far as improving opportunities goes. My clothes are getting out of date, and the people here begin to look as if they thought I needed watching. Very particular to send the bill up at the end of the week. Expect they've made me out a forger, or a counterfeiter, or a political spy by this time. Wouldn't believe, if I'd swear to it, that I was hiding away from an old green merino dress.

I can't decide what to do. I've not got money enough to pay for a first-class passage to California, and I shall never have any peace of mind in this country. It's giving me the dyspepsia, eating my meals alone in my room, when I might be the observed of all the handsome young ladies who happen to stop here. If I should venture down to dinner, Bangs would be sure to be hanging around, and put that woman on the track. I wish he'd marry and leave the city.

As

There's no telling how many chances I've lost since I made that miserable mistake. I was promenading in the hall this morning for a little exercise, a young lady came out of the room next beyond mine on the opposite side, with a couple who seemed to be her parents. They had such a distinguished air; I haven't the least doubt they're immensely wealthytravelling for pleasure. She was pretty, very! and she noticed me with so much interest. I was looking my best, I think, for I had just finished my hair. She was evidently struck with my appearance; I presume it would have become a case of love at first sight if I'd been free to follow up the acquaintance. A lovely purple silk, with pearl-colored spots; a lilac bonnet, uncut velvet, with a silvery plume; lilac gloves, with pearl-colored embroidery; a velvet cloak, with purple cording. That cweture, whoever she was, was one whose taste is as fastidious as my own. It has made that wretched phantom which haunts me appear more unbearable still. I could tear out my own hair to think what a fool I made of myself. I can't endure it another week; something must be done.

Waiter, bring me the morning paper.

Dull work, this reading. When a fellah has to read the dailies for amusement, he's badly off for a way to spend his time. I never took to print before; but I'm suah I've perused this stupid sheet from A to izzard every day for the last fortnight, advertisements included. Speaking of advertisements, I've read so many matrimonial ones I wonder I didn't resort to that plan long ago, before it was too late.

I have it! If I can't pay my own way to California, I'll get somebody else to do it. I'll advertise, not for a wife, but a situation. Maybe I can find somebody who'll be fool enough to pay my expenses for the sake of my company. I'll not be particular about California; a trip to Europe would be more agreeable, and perhaps by the time I return the green merino will be defunct. Let's try it :

WANTED-A situation to accompany a gentleman's son on a tour through Europe, as travelling companion. The advantages of style and air guarantied. Or would go to California as agent, or take care of ladies committed to his charge. Is young and agreeable, and of the highest character. No objections to overseeing a young gentleman's wardrobe, and allowing him the use of my Hair Tonique. Address

E. G. B., St. Nicholas Hotel.

E. G. B.-Ellerly Guy Babington-that's the name I've registered; obliged even to drop my own name to escape that woman. I'll have that in the papers to-morrow, and see what comes of it. It's costing all I've got to stay here, and giving me nothing but dyspepsia in

return.

Three days, and no answer to my advertisements. Ah, here's a note; my fingers are quite in a quiver as I try to open it. (Reads.)

If E. G. B. has not pre-engaged himself, and can give satisfactory references, a gentleman would negotiate with him to take charge of his annt, an elderly invalid lady, timid about travelling, who is obliged to go to California rather suddenly, and who has no escort. His expenses would be paid in return for his services, which would simply be to see her safe to her destination. She wishes to sail in Saturday's steamer, and an immediate interview will be necessary. Please call at office No. 14, Blank Building, this afternoon, at four o'clock. M. N.

"Elderly invalid lady;" not quite so agreeable as it might be; but, as nobody has offered to take me to Europe with them, and I'll have all my expenses paid for sitting beside the old lady at table, and handing her off the steamer

at the end of the journey, it isn't so hard as footing my own bills. She must be in easy circumstances, or she couldn't afford it. It may be that she will take a fancy to me-aw ! and adopt me, if she has no sons of her own, and leave me her estates when she dies. It's altogether likely she's going to look after several square miles of gold mines. She'll get fond of me, and make me her confidential adviser- aw! There's two difficulties; one's about references, and one's about getting out to that office in broad daylight. I can't possibly give any references, when I'm sailing under an assumed name. I shall have to refer him to a few of the most conspicuous of my acquaintances, and then trust to his not taking the trouble to hunt them up; and in order to escape the possibility of meeting that virago I must muffle up, without regard to my looks, and take a hack.

I got along with it much better than I expected. Very nice, gentlemanly person, with weak eyes; had to wear green goggles; must be a terrible misfortune to have to wear goggles -spoils one's looks. He wasn't so particular about the references as I feared. When I mentioned Jenkins' name and Bangs', he said: "Bangs, Bangs? I know the whole family well. It's enough." And now, if he doesn't happen to meet any of 'em, and speak about that nice young fellow, Babington, friend of theirs, etc., I shall get along well enough. It's only two days to Saturday, and I must trust in Providence.

Now that the time approaches for sailing, I feel quite exhilarated. I haven't been myself for the last two months. Nothing on earth would tempt me to live them over again. I'm not fond of the ocean, and I expect to be frightfully seasick; yet I'm quite sure that I shall rejoice to see the green shore disappear, and that the last glimpse of it to me will seem like bidding farewell to the old merino. I sha'n't feel really easy till we 're outside the bay; then I'll give up and be sick, with pleasure.

"I hav'n't seen the elderly person yet, of whom I'm to take charge. The gentleman, her nephew, called on me yesterday and presented me with my tickets, telling me to be sure and be on hand at twelve o'clock, when he'd resign my charge into my care, on board the steamer. That pretty girl with the lilac bonnet and her parents have gone away, I presume, as their rooms are vacant now; it's lonely enough here; I feel desperate-quite up to the scratch of going to a new country and trying something novel. If I'd stayed in

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