friend, nothing more, nor ever can be.' "I did not feel satisfied with Ellen's manner; I was sure that beneath her seeming carelessness, there were feelings which she did not choose to acknowledge. Yet I scarcely thought those feelings were of partiality towards Mr. Prior, for if so, why have hidden them from so intimate a friend as I? I could not fathom her, and left the unravelling the mystery to time. beamed with life and beauty; her bright servations, Lucy; Edward Prior is my eyes, flushing cheek, and silken hair, stamped her as a being of no ordinary personal attractions. In disposition she was hasty and impetuous, but I thought frank, kind, and faithful; though I soon found that while Mary's heart was like a clear stream, in which you might gaze even to its utmost depths-reading all her secret feelings in her looks and words, that Ellen was impenetrable as the solid rock. Our girlish secrets were, I feel sure, kept sacredly by Ellen, but our confidence was never reciprocated; all she felt or thought she alone knew, and dearly as I loved her, I could not help often feeling chilled by her close silence on the subjects most nearly concerning herself. Neither did she ever profess friendship for any one, but rather prided herself upon having few friends, and those being unsought by her. But I could never enter into her feelings, and often thought it strange that I should feel any regard for one so different to myself; but there was an indescribable charm in her manner which ever healed the wound her words had made, almost before one felt the smart. Such were my two friends." "But the third, Aunt Lucy?" "Patience, patience, Kate, I am coming to the third very quickly now. I was one day walking with Ellen, who was oftener my companion than Mary Lewis, when she suddenly stopped to greet a gentleman, whom she introduced to me by the name of Edward Prior-an old friend, she observed. We walked on together, and the manners and conversation of my new acquaintance pleased me much. When he bade us adieu, I laughingly jested with Ellen upon her closely kept secret. She replied gravely :'Mr. Prior is an old friend of mine, Lucy, or rather of my family, for I have not met him for many years, until within the last few months.' "And yet you did not tell me or Mary that you had done so, Ellen; you are not kind to be so reserved, and I shall not forgive you unless you make Mary also known to your friend on the first opportunity. There is no fear of our rivalling you, you know.' "I saw the blood mount in Ellen's cheek, and her eyes flashed; but she said quietly, though proudly, 'I do not love such ob Nor "And time sped on, and Mary was introduced to Ellen's friend, and he became at length one of our little circle. Formality and all the chill of first acquaintance wore off, and he was regarded by us all as the fourth in our bond of friendship. did I think that either of the females of this strange coterie ever dreamed seriously of inspiring or cherishing a warmer feeling. I vouch for myself, and Mary's heart I know was far away, for she was betrothed to one whom I had never seen; but I could only conclude from Ellen's assurances that such was also the case in respect to her, for her countenance would often, or rather did often lead me to think the contrary. "At all events Mr. Prior was much with us, both at our respective homes (where he seldom found us apart), and also amid the various scenes of gaiety in which we mingled. I noticed that in public, at balls or parties, Ellen obtained his chief notice-at least he danced oftener with her than with any other; but I thought little of that, for they were old friends, and both good dancers, while neither I nor Mary could claim much distinction in that accomplishment. But at home, or in our walks, when from our being four in number it was necessary we should divide into pairs, I found, at first to my surprise, that I was generally chosen as Edward's companion, and I should not have thought of it even as a compliment, had it not been that ever on such occasions Ellen's brow grew clouded, and the strange fire of those dark eyes blazed almost fiercely; and though I could find no difference in her words, her manner to me would be cold for a time, and then break forth into some burst of wild vehement affection, strange and unusual in her. At last I could bear it no longer, and one evening after a walk, in which Mary had not joined, and during which I had endeavoured to render the topics of conversation as general as possible, failing only through Ellen's studied silence, I drew her aside after we reached my home, and taking her hand, asked her earnestly if I had offended her? "No, Lucy; what a strange question to ask!' was the reply; but the colour came brightly into her cheeks, and her eyes drooped as she answered. "Ellen!' I exclaimed, my whole nature aroused by my suspicions, dear Ellen! if you love me, or believe that I feel any affection for you, answer me honestly and sincerely-have I given you pain? I do not wish to be inquisitive, but I think, I fancy that you are in short, Ellen, that you care more for Edward Prior than you would have me think, and it is painful to you to see any other engross the attention he should pay to you; tell me the truth, dearest friend, and I pledge you my solemn word, that never will I again be the cause of one moment's anguish to you; and I would rather at once break off all the ties of friendship, than be the cause to you of such bitter unhappiness, as I fear I am.' "At first, Ellen's face had become scarlet, but ere I concluded she was very pale; but the look of stern and unpleasing determination which she sometimes wore, was again upon her face. Fixing her eyes upon me, she replied, 'You are mistaken, Lucy, I have given you no reason for your suspicions; and yet I can tell the reason that you have formed them-you yourself love Edward Prior!' "I! Ellen, you are jesting.' "I am serious, Lucy, quite serious; your behaviour convinces me; and, I suppose,' she added-I thought bitterly, 'the feeling is a reciprocal one, for your conversation seems to possess peculiar charms.' "I looked, I believe, thunderstruck; but I had no reply to this cruel speech, save that I, for hours after Ellen left me, sat weeping, for then, for the first time, did I question my own heart as to the truth of her allegation; and the conclusion to which I at last came was a startling onethe conviction of its truth! I felt, in those few hours, as no language can describe. Shame, remorse, and hope, all mingled in my bosom! shame, lest he too had read the truth, which had hitherto been hidden even from me; remorse, that I had, though unknowingly, inflicted pain on Ellen, and become her rival; for, with woman's keenness, I now detected clearly her feelings, and knew that jealousy was festering in her heart; and hope-strange! that amid all my pain, the very words which wounded ne gave me hope. I remembered Edward's predilection for my society and conversation, and the flatterer whispered her promises into my mind's ear, until remorse again checked her. At last my resolution was taken-I would see neither Edward nor Ellen, but frame some excuse for my absence from our usual friendly meetings. If he cared nothing for me, I had no right to mar another's joy; if he did, my absence would not be the means of subduing a real attachment; and though I felt that I could not have strength to devote myself a martyr at the altar of friendship by refusing him if he did love me, I yet determined to do and say nothing which could possibly add to the probability of such an event. To Mary Lewis I confided all; and though she strove to combat my resolution, urging that Ellen had no right to expect or receive such a sacrifice; she ultimately concurred in my views, and aided me in their execution. Mary still joined the other two as usual; but some excuse was always devised for my absence from their walks, or evening hours of society. I learned, however, that Ellen seemed at first vexed, and afterwards indifferent; but as weeks crept on, and I grew still more estranged from their society, (for at first I still met them occasionally), Edward became anxious and uneasy at the continuation of my absence. Ellen, too, grew more reserved, and even gloomy at times; and poor Mary seemed to feel the influence of this altered state of things, and often earnestly hoped that it might not last long: it was not destined to do so. "One day a letter reached me, the writing on which was too well known not to make my heart beat tumultuously with wild expectations. It was, as you already guess, Kate, from Edward Prior. It is here, the first of this packet; but it is needless to read it, for full well do I remember its contents. He chid me kindly for my long absence from their circle, and expressed some anxieties as to its cause; but I scarce heeded all this, for the few simple words which express so much-the avowal of his attachment to me-met my eye, and all else grew indistinct, save that one sentence. Yes, I was beloved, and by one whose noble, generous, gentle nature, promised me a bright future of happiness. Heed not my tears, Kate; past pleasures pain us more in recalling than bygone sorrows, and my tears must have their way. "I was, you know, motherless; and my father was not one to concern himself about the extent or intensity of my feelings on any subject. When I placed Edward's letter in his hand, he merely questioned me as to his position and circumstances, and as the reply was satisfactory, he made no objection to my acceptance of the offer. I communicated with no other being, but wrote frankly to Edward such an answer as my own heart dictated. I despatched it, and was then about to seek Mary, when, to my surprise, Ellen Burns was announced. I could not conceal the traces of agitation which I know my countenance wore; but concealment seemed unnecessary, for Ellen's first words were sufficient to show that she either knew or suspected the exact truth. My heart was full, and forgetting the past, I cast myself into her arms, and told her all my happiness. "I a I am very glad, Lucy, and congratulate you very much, and trust you will be happy.' Such was the comment; yet though the words were kind in themselves, their manner chilled me to the heart. Far different was Mary's reception of the tidings; she wept as gladly as though the joy were her own, and her placid nature seemed to change in her pleasure at my glad prospects. "The next day brought Edward to my dwelling, but I cannot-must not dwell on that period of my life; I was fully, perfectly happy. Ellen was more friendly than ever in her manners; Edward, all that I could imagine of human kindness and affection; Mary, dear Mary! happy too, for she had received intimation of the speedy return of her lover from abroad, to claim the fulfilment of their engagement; and I had written to my sister to beg her to make another in our happy circle. The answer to that letter came from the relative, Mrs. Hayley, with whom my sister resided, informing us of that sister's hasty and unexpected marriage, and of her own severe illness, and begging that my father would send me to her at once. My father's annoyance on hearing of your mother's marriage was great; but having great expectations from Mrs. Hayley, he delayed not a day in sending me to her, to be her companion. I had but time to pack a few articles which I should need, and bid a hurried farewell to my three friends, ere I was whirled away from all I loved best on earth, my heart aching at the parting, and sorrowing for the anger my sister had drawn upon her head; and also, fearful and reluctant to fill her place by the side of a peevish, and now incensed invalid. "All was endured, however. Mrs. Hayley's wrath at my sister's hasty-and she termed it-ungrateful action, vented itself on my head; nor did the morrow bring much relief-or many after morrows; indeed, my only consolations under the constant repining were the letters of my friends. Mary's, ever sweet and kind, were at first frequent, but became less so after the period of her lover's return; but I did not murmur, for that was a natural consequence. Ellen's were fitful and capricious; sometimes I received two in one week, overflowing with warmth and kindness; sometimes weeks would elapse, and then I would receive a cold formal epistle, which it made me melancholy to read; but Edward's were my antidotes to all sorrow; they are doubtless very foolish productions to an uninterested reader, but to me they were gems of talent and truth, and they made my happiness. A year stole away; my sister had become reconciled to our father, and also to Mrs. Hayley-as far, at least, as that lady could be, after being once offended-but still my position remained unaltered. I petitioned to be allowed to visit home, if only for a week; but to this my protectress would not consent, and my father urgently begged me not to further offend her. But I was becom ing very anxious, for while Edward's letters became less frequent, so were also Ellen's, and they filled me, too, with uncertainty and doubt. No letter left Edward unmentioned but the terms in which she wrote of him were to me incomprehensible; sometimes she spoke in pity, sometimes in blame, often with a mingling of both, but never assigned any reason for her vague hints. I wrote t her, imploring an explanation: no answe came. I wrote to Mary; she, too, was silent I feared to write to Edward: how could tell him from whom injurious suspicions had been forwarded to me; how tell him the truth? I feared-hesitated-and at last, determined to write to him, without mentioning my fears, but merely alluding to his silence: I did so; here is his answer:"Aunt Lucy untied the packet of letters which she had throughout held in her hand, selected one from among them, and placing it before me, bowed her face, and I know was weeping bitterly. Although inclined to weep with her, I suppressed my emotion, and turned to the perusal of the note I held in my hand; it was freely and legibly written, and as follows:"You complain of my silence, Lucy, and seem peevish and irritated, while I have far more cause to be so. The attractions of your present abode have changed you, it seems; but I pray you, let not me restrain your free actions; and forget that were ever bound by any promise to him, who now and for ever frees you from the bond. you "EDWARD PRIOR." "Aunt Lucy, what did it mean?" "I did not know then, Kate; but it was the final seal to my long pending misery, and the receipt of that note was the cause of a long illness, commencing in insensibility. When I regained my consciousness, my first glance fell upon Ellen, who was seated by my side. I was about to speak, but she forbade me, and in soft and gentle tones spoke words of comfort and hope. My mind could scarcely comprehend the whole; but by degrees, as the remembrance of the past returned, a chill despair seized me, and I lay torpid and still, though sensible to But as strength returned, so did a desire for an explanation of my only half-understood misery, and with tears I prayed Ellen to explain the mystery of all around me. the letter. laid my face upon her bosom, I felt that the action was sufficient answer. I weptand they were tears of scorching agonybut when at last I raised my face, I noted, even that moment, that Ellen's eyes were dry. "I recovered, and Ellen returned to her home, while I continued Mrs. Hayley's companion. I ceased to notice her harsh manners, or to heed her fretfulness. My spirit was broken by a mightier pain than any she could inflict. I had now nothing to care for, or hope for; the one great hope of life was withered, and the minor ones, too, seemed dead for me. Ellen ceased to correspond with me after her return. Mary, of whose marriage I heard during my convalescence, was still silent; and I was friendless, and careless of all things now." "But at last came the climax of my grief. Mrs. Hayley, after a lingering illness, died, leaving the whole bulk of her property to my sister. I cared not for that, for now my toil was done in that respect, and her wealth could never have repaid me for all I suffered while with her. But a few days after her death, I was startled by a visit from Mary, now Mrs. Maxwell, and I believe I received her coldly enough: but she turned aside the hand I had extended in freezing welcome, and clasping me in her arms, exclaimed: 666 "Oh Lucy! my early friend, pardon me that in my own happiness I had forgotten you; not until very lately did I know all, but now, my wronged and suffering one, let me once more be to you all that I once was. Come home with me, dear Lucy, and learn to feel that you have still one earthly friend.' 'Ellen,' I sobbed-' what of Ellen?' "Do you not know? Have you not heard all? Oh, I have been rash even now!' she exclaimed; and terrified, I besought her to tell me what her words meant; and from her I learned all: I unravelled the web of treachery which had been cast around me, and found that Ellen had acted a wicked part. To Edward she represented me as gay and happy, amid a new circle of friends; and at last, from her hints and insinuations, he believed me to be forgetful of my promises to him, and that another had gained my love. My letters, often hurried, and embarrassed by the annoyances which surrounded me, were misinterpreted; and his proud and irritable nature at last store! exploded in the note which you have read. honey-cup, to gather nectar for the winter's It seems, he expected some reply or explanation, and receiving none, and unaware of my illness, which Ellen carefully concealed, he regarded it as a corroboration of his suspicions, and cast me from his heart for ever. The tale of his guilt, which I had heard, I need scarcely add, was untrue; and when too late, I found how we had been deceived." "Was it too late, dear aunt? surely!" "Too late, dear child, for the day before that on which Mary reached me was the wedding-day of Ellen, and Edward Prior." "Poor Aunt Lucy!" "I returned with Mary to her home, but her happiness was too much for my wounded spirit; and I was wicked enough to repine at the sight of her gladness. I left her, and came here, while you, Kate, were yet an infant. For awhile Mary and I corresponded; but time, and the cares of her family, I suppose, weakened her early friendship, and by degrees her letters became less frequent, and then ceased. Of my three friends,” she added, with a smile, "I have now left these three packets of letters, and Memory!" Poor Aunt Lucy, that was a very, very sad smile! GRANDFATHER WHITEHEAD'S SYSTEMATIC BOTANY. MY DEAR BOYS AND GIRLS.-The recent delightful weather has afforded you a fine opportunity of observing the beauties of the world about you, both vegetable and animal. The wonderful plants, with their lovely and fragrant blossoms, are now waited on by thousands of still more wonderful insects, who get their food from the flowers, and at the same time fulfil a very important office in the cup of the flower. Look at the bee, as he creeps out backwards from that beautiful flower yonder-how his body is covered with a golden dust that testifies to his industry-and how, without attempting to brush it off with his legs as he might do, he hurries on to another and another Of the bee and the flower there is much to be learned; let us look at both of them very attentively. First, let us pluck the flower. It is a red rose-what Sarah Anne calls a Provence rose. How prettily the shrub, upon which it grew, waves its branching stems in the summer air! yet take care how you touch it, for there are sharp red prickles on its stem, which are hooked, and will make your fingers bleed if you are not cautious. Observe how the leaves have their veins or fibres distributed, and remember what I told you about all plants which possess foliage of that kind. I think by your looks that all of you remember that such plants spring from seeds having two seed-leaves; that they possess pith in the centre of their stems, which increase in size by additions of woody tissue on the outside, and that they have bark, and branching boughs. You know all this, then, about the rosetree, and are therefore prepared to name the class to which it belongs, and to say that it is a dicotyledonous, or EXOGENOUS plant. We are now prepared to go a step further in classification; with that view let us seek shelter from the warm sun, and examine the blossom, with a table before us upon which we can lay each part of the beautiful object as we remove it from the point to which it was attached. The parts of the flower which first attract the eye are the coloured petals, which give such loveliness to all the roses; these are very numerous in the specimen before us, and are exquisitely scented. Such flowers are said to be polypetalous, or to have many petals, and are thus distinguished from other flowers-as mint, fox-glove, and snapdragon, in which the corolla is in one piece. The rose, then, belongs to the class of polypetalous exogens. If we strip off this coloured raiment of the flower (which you will remember is called the corolla altogether, each red leaf being a petal), we shall find that there remains a very curious series of objects which we must examine in order. If you trace the stalk of the rose upwards towards the flower, you will find that it appears to swell into a bright green mass, which is partly hidden by five leaf-like bodies, turned down as the Americans wear their collars. This green body is the tubular |