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THE TOWN AND COUNTRY.

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per: "Ponder well the paths of thy feet;" of the proud, "I3e not high-minded, but fear;" and of the leeker for this world's favor, "Come unto me; for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest to your souls!"

"Might I but do this!" she said, half aloud.

"Might you but do what, eousin?" asked Susan, laughing. She had that moment returned to the boudoir. "Confess now, Carl," eontinued she, as she rummaged some boxes that stood on her dressingtable—" might you but get a hushand? or—or what? I would like to know whero my gloves are. Mary has ransaeked my ehamber, and the parlor, and the hall. Ah I this is pleasant; here they are. Come, now, eonfess," she added, again laughing; "might you—why hew spiritual you look, Caroline! You must have been thinking—Might I but go to Birmah, and eonvert the heathen!—But your eyes are full. Pardon me just this time, sweetest eousin, and I will try." She kissed Caroline, dropped a tear or two, and then in ono moment was pulling on her tight gloves, and making all sorts of eomie grimaees. "The truth is, Caroline, there is no uso in all my trying. If I were with you, or Aunt Sarah, or Dr. Butler all of the time, it might sueeeed; but every other influenee in Gotham is against me; and I am just weak enough to feel a sort of—of magnetie, I suppose it is—a sort of magnetie sympathy with whatever spirit takes held of me. Heigh-he I Well, host tried my guitar, Caroline?"

Caroline sheok her head.

"Well, another time. Come in this evening; or, this do. Come haek here after our walk. We shall be almost starved, you know; and we shall take sueh eomfort over our dinner! And then, 'when the day deeliueth,' we will sit here, and sing, and be happy."

Caroline smiled and nodded assent, and arranged Susan's shawl.

"Thank you: your shawl is always eorreet. Papa •ays if you were to tArou> your things on, they would be sure to fall always in just the best mode; and I believe they would; but I am so shert 1 I haven't rdom for things. Did you ever seo sueh looking eurls?

'Away, away we bound over the doep;
Lightly, brightly our merry hearts'

This is miserable! there eome the Dunklees into the eourt, and up to our door. But we will wait hero. Fifteen minutes is their rule; and if obliged to ransaek every nook and eorner of their dull brains for themes, they never leave a moment too soon; or if diseussing Miss Lorena Ann's aeeomplishments, gained ehiefly in one year at that miserable boarding-seheol of Mrs. Dearbon—by the way, the most fruitful topio they ever hit—they never stay one moment too long. Bnt why—what makes you so uneommonly mute to-day? What have you been looking at?"

"I don't know," answered Caroline. "Whe oeeupies the seeond floor of the briek heuse opposite V

"The Starks. You see the sign below, 'Stark, Wainwright, A Co.' The Starks were from Yankeo land some ten or a dozen years ago. I ean just remember now hew I laughed at the queer little joekey-eap their habe wore when they eame. 'But sueh a fat, fair faee, and sueh eurls I never saw; and i now she has grown the most splendid little gipsy in the world. I have longed to get at her when I have heard her laugh, so elear and ringing. We are not on terms, hewever; Mr. Stark's firm and papa's are rivals in trade, so they pass eaeh other; and one never meets them in soeiety. I eonelude that they were from the woods direet: at any rate, they seem to prefer hirds and flowers to people; for their parlor is at onee parlor, aviary, and greenheuse. Ah! now I remember—I suppose Mrs. Stark is very ill: I have notieed the last two years that she has been growing paler and paler. I did not see her onee all last winter; but Dr. Lane ealled every day, and, the first beautiful warm spring day, the parlor eurtains were put farther haek, a window was opened, and, as I sat here, I saw her hushand bring her and seat her in an easy-ehair elose by the window. And sueh a look as hers was when she turned her large dark eyes up to the sky! Her faee was as dazzlingly white as her deihahille, exeept a round spot in eaeh eheek, and her lips, whieh were as red as a eherry. She looked like a beautiful spirit; and I eould not avoid weeping as I sat here and theught hew dreadful it was that she must so soon be 'harred from the day,' and from her hushand, whe is truly elegant, and whe seems as tender of her as if she were a habe. But Miss Malone eame in, and I brushed off my tears. She was infinitely amazed at the simplieity of my boudoir, deseribed hers, told me about Amelia Ashton's divan, and Laura Hastings's toilet appointments, and Miss Vane's Psyehe; and from that heur until last evening, when my improvements reaehed papa's 'Thus far and no farther,' I have theught of nothing but boudoirs and boudoir appendages. Ah! Caroline, I understand that look of yours. It is too had, I know, to go on so, forgetting everything serious in serambling after fashions and vanities. Eh hien! I sha'n't grow laehrymose about it. Come! there go the Dunklees. Now,'Away, away we bound o'er"—Stop, Carl! let me take my parasol. Of one thing I am therougbly eonvineed; that is, I was not made for a pattern lady. Where ran my parasol be? I have tried, times witheut number, to be like you, j as you know; and you know, and I know hew I ! failed, and hew ridieulous I made myself. No; do ! you be Minerva; that is your forte; for that your ! solid head and queenly form were made. But I— ! did you ever see anybody so shert?—Aha! here is j my parasol!—And just rap on my forehead, Caroline, and see if it is not hellow. But hew serious ! you are this morning! There, now I am ready: do eome now! When will we look upon the sea?

There is freedom In the oeean,

There Is spirit lu the breeze
There is life in every motion

Of the ever-restless seas.'"

"Oh, don't sing so loud, Susan!" said Caroline, again withdrawing her eyes from the window. "See! there is a earriage at Mr. Stark's door, and a eoffin!"

"Yes; and they are earrying it in. Dreadful! Mrs. Stark has gone, then. But hew you tremble, dear Caroline! You surely don't allow yourself to be moved in this way at sight of every eoffin?"

"Not of every one; but just like this my mother died: she too died in spring, when she was longing to go where she might see green fields, and trees, and flowers onee more. I was only twelve, you know; but, as if it were yesterday, I remember all— her last kiss, and the blessings that eame upon her last breath. Oh, eould she but have lived, Susan! eould even one of my parents but have been spared to me! You know not—God grant you never may learn by sueh an experienee as mine—the reasons you have now to bless Ilim with every breath you draw."

Susan flung her arms around Caroline's neek, wept a few moments as if her heart were breaking, sobbed out broken and passionate assuranees of sympathy and love for Caroline, of gratitude to Heaven, and of determinations to begin then to live a better life. But soe hew it all ended! At the Park, the eousins were met by Frank Vane and his sister, whe had a theusand "airy nothings" to diseuss with them. Were they at Mrs. Gilman's eoneert last evening ?— were the Holmes's girls there?—did Adaline wear her new velvet?—was Park Howland as assiduous as ever in his devoirs to that inimitable Abby Lane ?— Oh! Ah! Indeed! Well, they would part them.— After mueh more nonsense and sareasm on the part of the Vanes and Susan—they would part then and there; but they would meet again to-morrow at the Bennett's grand dinner: au revoir, au revoir.

CHAPTER II.

Susan tried no more; or, it is not known to us, whe see with the mortal eye, that she tried. She may have done it, for all that. Night may have known of tears running silently upon the pillows; nnd of "oh dears!" more than we eould eount; and of determinations to dp something in the next twenty-four heurs worth the doing; of saying something worth the saying—worth the being written in the Lamb's book. We ean never know; for Night is dark and silent on sueh points; and the girl shewed no fruits of repentanee. There was no amendment: you never heard her speak, that she might not as well have been still, for all the good it <rid. Rieh she was, or her father was rieh, whieh was all the same, sinee to her reasonable desires he

never sheok his head, or said "No," or went on with his newspaper reading, saying never a word. There was no time when she eould not go out with money in her purse; no time when she eould not send John out with wood, eoal, provisions, elothing; not in all that long, eold winter in New York, when eheeks grew hellow and purple with hunger and eold only a little way from their door; and when beseeehing eyes were raised to hers, and thin, trembling hands held out from human beings whese hearts were making ready every moment for deeds of erime, by the growing desperation of their eonditions, by the gnawing hunger, and by the theught of the little ones that waited at heme. She never heeded them; or, if ever she did, no one knows it; it was only for a moment; not long enough for the benevolent theught to go out in the benevolent deed. Her head was so full of halls, dinners, and operas—of hall, dinner, and opera dresses! God forgive her that, of all he had given her, she had nothing for his needg ehildren—nothing for the poor and siek of his eartbly kingdom! God forgive her that she lived so many days and months of leisure and plenty, and yet went not one step forward, made herself not one grain wiser or happier than she was six months before! When Christmas eame, she made uupreeedented outlay in eostly gifts for her wealthy friends. And this she might innoeently have done if she had not "left the other undone," the other work of providing also gifts for the poor. She would leave "all that sort of thing" to Caroline and Mrs. Adlin, the good aunt with whem Caroline resided, she said, as she ran laughing and singing away.

Have my readers read that exeellent thing of Diekens's, his "Christmas Carol?" Then do they not wish that on that Christmas evening, when Caroline and Susan sat eaeh in her ehamber at heme, and fell asleep in ber easy-ehair of weariness—do they not wish that then Diekens's good old "Ghest of Christmas Present" might have eome in his slippers to eaeh by turns, taking them abroad through the streets, the elose doors, and windows, whenever their Christmas words and works had gone, laying it all hare before them, what they had done, and what they had loft undone? In a magnifieent parlor, a few rods from her heuse, Susan would have beard it in ridieulously affeeted tones—"I absolutely ean't think why Miss Allen sent this sort of thing here to me: we're not in the least intimate,you know," and all that . "But, isn't this a niee idea? I '11 send it straight to that Miss Webber out in the woods somewhere, whe sent me the moss work. Won't this be exeellent?" The "thing" was a vase of shells, the ehef-d'oeuvre of Susan's Christmas operations. A little farther, sho would have found a beautiful ring about being disposed of in pretty mueh the same summary way. She would have seen that a fow things gave a real pleasure, were really prized: but, alas! this was where she eared least about giving a pleasure, least about bestowing a prize. Pity she didn't see this: the lesson would direetly have made her a nobler, happier girl.

THE TOWN AND COUNTRY.

Caroline would havo seen in more than one poor heuse sueh quiet lids, now that it was all over; now that they had had sueh a day and evening of warmth and plenty! She would havo seen them in another home, ehildren and all, still up, talking over the delights of the day, sitting far haek; and a thing was this they eould not often do, to sit away haek in a large ring, some of them at the windows even—the room was sa warmed through and through of that sweet Miss Norris's wood. They would love to sit up all night, not to have the warmth wasted; and it was so now, so good not to be jammed shivering together elose by the little stove. Only think of it! there were, after all, plates full and plates full left; and wood enough to last them a fortnight; and by that time, why long enough before that time, Mrs. Hampden would be ready to pay them for that fine sewing, and Miss Lawrenee for that washing; and father would be strong by that time, wouldn't he? now he needn't be worrying about them; now they had sueh plates full, and sueh heaps of wood; and now the sweet Miss Norris was eoming to see them every little while all winter. Wouldn't father be better? Yes, ehildren, that we know now; beeause it happened that he was better direetly. It was, in reality, only a slight indisposition. He just saw that his arm had less strength than was its wont; that sometimes, oftener than ever before, rheumatism ran along the eords; that eontinually day and night he felt fevor and disquiet in his brain. This set him to thiuking that he might soon be helpless. He prohably would soon be helpless; and then, in all that great, wealthy eity, there were none save the autherities whe would look in on them, whe would bury him out of the way if he died, or do anything for all that hest of little ones, or for the faithful mother, whese strength was already so far spent with the toilsomeness of her way. These were freezing theughts; and for a few days they aeted like palsy on the poor man's heart and arms. It was the opportune kindness of our good Caroline that brought him out of it, and made him straightway a sound

There was one heme not of what we eall abiolute want. The widow Mansen and her two daughters had a tidy room on the third floor of a third-rate heuse. By being every minute of the day and far into the night over their needles, they met Want always on the thresheld, and sent the meagre wreteh away. They were never hungry, or thirsty, or eold, that they had not the menna of supplying at least that day's need. One may be grateful for this; and in their gratefulness, in their hepe of the freedom, the rest, and the enjoyment of Heaven, they may be happier a million times than the rieh about them whe nover give thanks, whese hepes and pleasures are all built on this ever-jostling foundation ealled Earth. But there was a want that often beeame a

gnawing pain, espeeially in the heart of the daughter, for beautg, for beauty in their heme, for flowers, pietures; and oh, for books! for leisure to rend them! O God, for these!—for a tittle of that whieh was trodden under foot as of nothing worth in the heme aeross the way! But Caroline found them; Caroline found them! She heard young Vane wishing that, somewhere among "the Upper Ten," he eould find sueh large, lustrous, heavenly eyes as that sewing girl had in her pretty, little, haughty head. Gad! or if she had " the tin," and not the station ; but—whew ! whew ! where were his gloves? Would his sister and Miss Susan just help him to find his gloves? He was going to see if he eould seare up a party of wild, good fellows for some sort of a serape or other. He must get that Mansen girl's eyes out of his heart some way. Not aguiu sheuld he be persuaded to go to the widow's, if the work to be brought was as rieh as a Goleonda diamond. It might be broken; it had better be than his heart. Whew! au reeoir, ladies. With this, he took himself from the room, laughing, and yet with a flushed faee and unquiet eyes.

If the Ghest had taken Caroline to the widow's room that evening, she would have seen nothing new exeept that table between the widow and her daughter. But it was all they eould have asked in the whele world. They did not want anything else; they were so grateful in the theught that their longing was appreeiated, that there was one in that eity whe theught their privations something, even theugh they did not aetually freeze, aetually starve. The table was new, and ran lightly on its eastors, so that by day it eould be wheeled into the sunlight, for the sake of a thing of matebless beauty budding and blossoming there, a marble rose; and, by night, to the eentre of the room near the stove, that the rose, the large volumes, the "Magazine," and the "Journal," might be between the widow and her daughter, beneath the light of the new lamp. It was an unusual thing in that room, sueh a light as that large lamp gave. And this was an unusual thing, having in a ean oil enough to supply it plentifully into the shert spring evenings. Caroline would not have heard many words; but she would have seen that Mrs. Mansen eould not read at nil for the tears in her eyes; that, at length, she gave up trying, and sat and roeked with her eyes on the sweet faee opposite, bent low over the volume she was reading. And presently she would have heard a voiee sweet as the faee itself say: "Oh mamma! hear this:—' But thero is a far higher likeness to Christ than the artist ever drew or ehisellod. It exists in the heart of his true diseiple. The true diseiple surpasses Baphnel and Miehael Angelo. The latter have given us Christ's eountenanee in faney, and, at best, having little likeness to the mild beauty ami majestio form whieh moved through Judea. But the diseiple whe sineerely eonforms himself to the disinterestedness, and purity, and filial worship, and all-saerifieing love of Christ, gives us no faneied representation, but the true, divine lineaments of his soul, the very spirit whieh beamed in his faee, whieh spoke in his voiee, whieh attested his glory as the Son of God.'" Then she would have seen the large eyes fill, and the large tears go drop, drop upon the page.

As it was, as no Ghest of Christmas Present eame, Carolino saw and heard none of these things; but she know that others were happy for what she had done; that she was happy; and she lay down in peaee.

CHAPTER III.

Sdhhen same, and the poor theught the eity a paradise, beeause there were no eold days and nights; no long, dark evenings: beeause work was more plenty and wants were less pressing; but the rieh eould never endure sueh heat and sueh prostration. Henee, they betook themselves one way and another to watering-plaees, or to friends in the eountry. Caroline and Susan had tried Saratoga, Roekaway, and Newport, at different seasons This year they would go up the Hudson to Unele Joseph's, They were there—the nnele, aunt, and eousins—in the quaintest of all heuses, on a large farm that their united industry had made to "blossom like the rose." They were kind and intelligent . They loved to see the nieees there, going through the rooms filling the vases, arranging the books, playing with the ehildren, instrueting them—not by regular lessons, but ineidentally as they frolieked and talked —sitting down quietly and sewing, now making the new garment, and anon tueking hits of braid, or fringe and buttons on the old, taking the ehildren —all but the haby, and they begged altogether to take her too, she was sueh a darling—to a sail, walk, or earriage-drive. It made Aunt May's bead whirl as she stood with haby in her arms, seeing the girls and their oldest boy, Heury, go galloping and "eutting the air" on these wild young ereatures. "No more fit for a woman to ride !" she always said. But Unele Joseph was lifted in the air by the daring, the sublimity of the thing; and the boys swung their hats and eheered.

Uqele Joseph's folks had a room full of ehildren, from Heury, whe was sixteen years old, down to the little Mary, whe was less than two; but there were never too many of them.' Look at any one of them, and you would be sure that that one eould not be spared; the heuse would be sad enough, if it were not for that one, with his or her peeuliar ways, measures, and amiahilities. As it was, there were berries, trout, hirds of game, frolies, surprises, outeries, outlaughs, torn froeks and pants enough to keep mouths, fingers, and brain ever interested, ever busy. They were never still, exeept in the

I morning, and again at evening, when Unele Joseph said, with his good, persuasive voiee: "Let ns all unite in prayer." Then every faee was theughtful and subdued in a moment; every little knee was bent, every ehildish voiee said Amen, and in sueh loving tones that it always sent a thrill through Susan's heart. These parents with hands as hard as a shell, and with the sweat of labor for ever on their brows, these little ehildren even, kept God always near them, saw Him in all their bountiful supplies of fruit, flowers, and grain, trusted in Him, and felt no fear. It was He that blessed them in all things; henee there was no pride, no vain-glory in their sueeesses. Susan felt it more and more every day, that, in eoming near them, He also eame near her, waited for her, held out a father's hand to her, and said, ever plainer and plainer, "Daughter, give me thine heart." If she wont abroad—and it was all the same if she sat within—through the open windows and doors, she heard all the hirds, and every living thing praise Him. The river went by bright and glorious, telling of the mighty hand that gathered its waters. She only, with all her gifts, and her eonseienee upbraiding her for her frivolousness, bent no knee, gave no thanks, asked no blessing, wasted the days and the years. She wept herself asleep thinking of this; and the next morning, when Unele Joseph said "Let us pray," she knelt with them and again wept . Soon she was a new ereature. She saw a new and glorious beauty in nature, a new and glorious interest in life. There was no more ill-natured mimiery, or fault-finding. If one wns vain, another foolish, and yet another frivolous, so was she all of these until the Lord

< helped her to be wise.

CHAPTER IV.

"Axoel," her young friends ealled Susan when they returned to the eity, sueh a beautiful light was in her eye, sueh a beautiful harmony and pleasantness pervaded her whele being. Some, hewever, ioould eurl their lip; but the distortion did not eome legitimately; it was, in reality, no disgust they felt that Susan was so mild, so full of light, sueh an "angel." She did them good, all of them. It was more here, and less there; but all were better, if only in a trifling degree, for eoming near her. It did them good when, in a few months, they stood so many of them in her death-ehamber, and saw that eertainly she was not too mueh an angel, none too pure and godlike for the presenee she was soon to enter. She blessed them all, begged them to give themselves to God then. They oug\t to love Him, she told them with a eheking voiee, He wat so good to them; and they never would be truly happy until they did, never. It was the old stnry. They had all heard it from the pulpit, from aged

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lips; they had seen it in books; yet it was a new j

thing eoming from that young friend, the dear, the >

beloved one; and it melted them as nothing had ever j

melted them before. She died with a heavenly s

peaee in her uplifted eyes and on her tongue; and s

ber young friends went onward in life, He only, " whe j

seareheth the heart, seeing it exemplified in them;

the blessedness of Susan's regenerated life, and of j

her triumphant death." j

CHAPTER V.

Manv years have passed sinee then. Then it was '34, now it is '48; fourteen years have passed; and if you go now to the old hemo of Susan, the parents are not there. Go up to Unele Joseph's; and there you will find them aeross the way, in the loveliest spot of all that lovely region; olose by the river in the midst of all these voiees that onee wero in their beloved daughter's ear. They love to think of this; they would never be willing to live anywhere else; in no other spot on the earth eould they have made the grave of Susan. The grave—you ean see the white monument there among the willows, elose by the river. Unele Joseph's youngest, named for their Susan, is almost always with them. They spoil her, the neighbors say; but they do not. They are no longor blind in their movements. They know that it is an immortal one they lead about by the hand, take to their arms, their table, and the little eot elose beside their own bed. No, the parents eould not live anywhere else, now Susan is awny.

Go haek to the eity; and there in the former heme of the Vanes you will find the widow Mansen, her daughter, and her daughters—but no matter; 'tis a long story about the daughter; and there is here no room for it. Mrs. Mansen is no better, and it may be not vastly happier, in the main, than when it was

u Work—work—work.

Till the brain began to swim: \ Work—work—work, ] Till the eyes were heavy and dim!"

We would not have thenght the ehange in her {

eondition worth naming, only it minds us afresh j

that, in this new republie, we are all, as it were, on I

Ixion's wheel; so that, if wo find ourselves looking!

down on people at present, we may as well be S

humble, not only for humility's sweet sake, but be- j

eause by and by wo may be eoming down, down; i

and these whe erst were below us may be going up,!

up far enough over our heads. The hankruptey of >

be Vanes would have been infinitely easier to bear >

if there had been no arroganee, no foolish pride in 1

the day of their strength. j

The reverse in Mrs. Mansen's fortune eame of i

ber only brother, whe, ton years ago, returned from'

Russia, where he had made a fortune. He was " rieh as a Jew," and it was for this eonsummation he had been toiling all these long years. But he was not in the least happy, sinee no pleasant lips ever turned to him and said—hushand, father, brother, or unele. He eame heme; and, after a long seareh, found his sister and nieee in the heme of Caroline, whenoe good Aunt Odlin had departed

It was pleasant that Caroline took the widow ind orphan under her hand. There had been mutual eomfort in the thing all along; and then in the end Caroline married the old haehelor from Russia. This would have been no lueky denouement, as marrying a rieh haehelor merelg; but nowhere else in the world eould she havo found a eompanion so perfeetly suited to her, with sueh a noble faee and figure, so higbly intelleetual, and above all so loving and kind; fond of travel like herself, and like herself no less fond of sitting quietly in their own room, reading, and talking of what they read, what they had seen in their travels, and laying plana with her for the relief of the poor of the eity. Mrs. Mansen was their almoner; and she went ehiefly among the sewing women. She knew what they suffered; and she had determined that the rest of her life sheuld be given to them.

Caroline has two hahies, beanties! and sueh lovely things! You would not think it of suoh a tidy, magnifieent man as her hushand—that is, if you have no good brother, brother-in-law, or hushand whe does the same—but he dora lie on the earpets often, and let the ehildren erawl over him. Mothers know hew mueh this is worth to Caroline. Their gambols afford her a pleasant diversion; she has many a hearty laugh over them. Besides, she is able, while they go on, to fold her hands and rest; feeling thankful that it is not of neeessity that all amusements beyond these furnished by the hired nurse must eome from her, whether she is strong or weak, disposed to langh, or only to read quietly, or look in the grate with her theughts haek in the olden time, when there were parents and ehildheod's heme for her, when the dear Susan lived, and espeeially when she died.

SONNET WATER.

IT WM. ALKXAKSKR.

Mtstctuous Fluid I elahn'st thou highest praise
By power penetrative thou art everywhere!
Where matter Is, there tbou—In earth, in air
Perehanee, too, where gleam Fire's red flashing rays
Thy viseous nature makes our heuses stand.
Deprived of thee, wood Into ashes turns,
Stones erumble into dust. The sparkling urns,
Where tbou, in love, Invitingly dost stand,
Are riehest treasure to both poor and proud;
And sandy deserts ean thy value tell,
Wbore nations strive to gain some eold deep well;
Whenee gushest tbou with silvery voiee and loud—
In rills and rivers through the woods tbou gorst;
Carrying life and joy and health where'er thou flowest

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