Yes, Guy; I have suffered much. The constant and slow fading away of my children; the thought of seeing them die before my eyes for food which I had not the power to give them; my own constant hunger, and, Guy, the knowledge that you, too, were starving".

"And you did remember me, Florence?" said the young man, with a look of gratitude and love.

66

Yes, Guy; even when my child was dying, I did not forget to send you each day a little biscuit and a bouquet of roses and honeysuckles. I knew they would strengthen you as they did me with the precious memories of long ago."

"And was it indeed from you they came? It was all a mystery to me; but they performed their mission well, and brought many an hour of hope and comfort when I was ready to despair. I learned to expect them more anxiously than the miserable pittance of musty food which was all that kept me from starvation. And you spared me a portion of your own food also, every day, when you and yours were starving? Oh, if I had dreamed of that, rather would I have died than deprive you of their precious nutriment."

Florence smiled, and slowly rising, reached out her hand. "I must go now, Guy," said she; "but will you not see your little playfellow, Lillie, first? She is in the carriage below."

"Oh, Florence! I cannot spare you yet; I cannot permit you to leave me in all the painful uncertainties under which I have so long suffered. Relieve me, at least by some word that may bring me hope for the future. Tell me now what the barrier is that has so long and fatally stood between us, and oh, tell me that it is not to remain forever."

Florence hesitated; but as her heart went back to her early days, and over the stormy and dangerous passages of the last few months, and she remembered the long devotion of Carleton, and felt, too, how dear he was to her, she could no longer refuse his request; yet it was

with a pain she could not hide that she at last said,

"Alas, Guy, though I am at last absolved from my vow, and can reveal my secret, I fear that it can give you but little satisfaction to learn it. The very circumstance which has set me free is but another barrier to what you have asked."

"Do not tantalize me longer with delay, Florence. Let me know what was the vow that has so long stood like a ghost between my love and you."

"Hear it then, Guy. You know that my husband was a bitter secessionist, devoted to the cause of the rebellion which he favored until the hour of his death, hating with his whole heart and soul the Union cause which I loved, and which I could not give up, but which I dared not openly advocate. Alas, Guy! I was a poor coward, I fear; but for my children's sake, I could not live in constant contention with their father. So I grew silent, and hid my hopes and wishes in my own heart, and when the Confederate leaders plotted treason and cruelty in my hearing, I shut my lips, and they never knew that I was not one of them. But I never lay down at night, nor rose up in the morning, that I did not pray for the success of the dear old flag.

So matters went on. The war commenced, and my husband was deep in its guilty schemes. But finally he became ill and soon was aware that he had only a few hours to live. Then it was that, setting before me the helplessness of my children, he wrung from me a promise that, so long as the South could maintain itself against the North, and so long as I could by silence preserve his great estates for the children, I would neither reveal my Union sentiments nor marry again."

And your property is now confiscated? Thank God, you are now mine!"

No, Guy! I refused you in my days of wealth; I cannot come to you in poverty, without even the means of sustaining my child."

"Give her to me, Florence and yourself also. I shall glory in proving to you how much dearer you are with nothing than all the world beside."

A beautiful glow overspread the cheeks of Florence, and she reached him her hand. "Oh; Guy! I know all that. I know how generous and true you are; but how can I thus burden your young life? But why hesitate thus? I am a prisoner and must leave you. I have already overstayed my hour; but let me bring up Lillie that you may see her once more, and we will leave the rest to God."

Florence left the room, but soon reappeared with Folie, and Lillie in her arms. Carleton folded the pale, wasted child to his breast, caressing her with a heart full of emotion and pity.

"So pale, so thin, my little darling Lillie!"

The child smoothed his wet cheek with her little thin hand.

"I made you bouquets of roses and honeysuckles, Cousin Guy! Did you love them?"

"Yes, darling; and I love you for your kindness, a thousand times better than the flowers. I love you, Lillie. Will you let me be your papa?" he whispered.

The child looked keenly in his moistened eyes for a moment, then reaching out her hand to her mother, she twined her arm around her neck, and, drawing her ear close to her lips, "May Cousin Guy be my papa?" she whispered.

Florence clasped the little flaxen head close to her bosom. 66 Yes, dear," she answered, looking up into Carleton's face, "if he will promise to be a good papa." The parting must, nevertheless, take place. When they were gone Carleton dropped into his chair and sat for hours, forgetting that he had eaten nothing for more than thirty hours, forgetting that the city was in the hands of his friends, and that his liberty was now certain, and remembering only the parting words of Florence. All the past of his life seemed now as nothing to that one moment which had as ured him that Florence would by and by be his, - his, after months, perhaps years, of separation; after dangers and trials more severe, it might be, than any which they had endured before. The war would some day end, and then she would be his,

cherish and support and honor for the patriotism which led her to sacrifice her wealth and social position that she might give herself to her country. He did not notice as thus he sat there that day was departing, and his prison growing dark and chilly. But he was finally aroused by the shouts and jubilant cries of multitudes marching along the other side of his prison. Torchlights flashed across the tree-tops which bounded his yard, and a steady tramp for hours gave token of the entrance of his comrades and their final occupation of the city. With a heart bounding with joy, he ran to the door and strove to open it; but it was strongly bolted. He shook it and called aloud to his jailer; he thrust his head from the window and shouted to his comrades to release him from his durance; but they were far away from the sound of his voice and did not hear him, and the jailer had left him alone, locked in the prison without food or light. Hours went by; the tramp of the victorious army was hushed; the city grew dark and still, and the starving young officer felt a growing terror in his heart which, in all the dangers he had passed, he had never felt before. Was he, after the dearest wish of his heart was at last almost within his grasp, when his gallant comrades, victorious and triumphant, were sleeping the happy sleep of just conquerors, was he to die alone of hunger in their very midst ? strove to think that they would hear his call and search for and liberate him; but a strange weakness had come over him, and he could no longer raise his voice to be heard even in a neighboring room. Long continued starvation had undermined his strength to a greater degree than he was aware, and the recent excitement of Florence's visit and its happy result had completed his prostration. He crept to his bed and lay down with a dull, dizzy sense of languor and faintness; a ringing filled his ears, and Carleton lay in a dead swoon.

He

A generous glass of wine and a small quantity of nutritious food, judiciously administered, soon gave new life to Carleton, who was indeed in a most dangerous condition, having lain twenty-four hours in a state of semi-unconsciousness before he was discovered. The major and the faithful black devoted the entire night to his recovery, and so far succeeded as to be able to remove him on the following morning to more inspiring quarters; namely, among the friends and comrades, from whom he had been so long separated.

It is unnecessary to detail the circumstances following the occupation of Vicksburg by our army, or the energetic measures adopted by Grant for following up his successes; for are they not written on the hearts of a grateful country?

A few words will close this veracious history.

Measures were immediately instituted, by order of General Grant, for the exchange of Florence, and she was in a few weeks once more occupying her beautiful plantation dwelling overlooking Vicksburg. And under the paternal supervision of the same noble commander the

Carleton was at length consummated. The confiscation of her distant estates by the rebel government for a time heid them from her control; but the recent downfall of that treasonable and rebellious Confederation has placed them once more in her hands.

Lillie lives in a state of perpetual delight at the presence of her "new papa," his wound received under the walls of Vicksburg having rendered his continuance in the army no longer suitable. There is, however, every prospect of his ultimate and entire recovery.

The last we heard from the happy pair they were making grand preparations for a reunion of their old friends, officers under Generals Grant and Sherman, and it was also expected that the great Invincible himself would be able to spare time to join the happy party.

the

One subject, notwithstanding the keen penetration of General Grant, still remains an impenetrable mystery not only to him but his confidential officers, identity and whereabouts of the spy. In vain were inquiries made in all directions and by every means; Jean Delong was never seen after the fall of Vicksburg. With that proud event he disappeared from the army and neighborhood, nor could the ablest scout discover any traces of him. Regret that he should thus be unable to reward, or in any way acknowledge the great skill and fidelity, whose whole extent was known only to the commander-in-chief himself, sometimes half destroyed his satisfaction at his own successes, when he remembered the beautiful French boy who had so often glided in with important information for his ear. And were it not that others around him were in equal perplexity, he would sometimes almost have been inclined to regard him as one of those myths which sometimes haunt the presence of the imaginative and dreamy, but have no real existence. But the evidences of his reality were too many and important for this conclusion, and he long since learned to remember with sincere regret and to reckon among his guardian angels the youthful Spy of the Mississippi.

TO KITTIE.

By Mrs. Helen Rich.

SHE came from tropic lands, for see

Their dusky gleam in eye and cheek; Her race was loyal, — ay, and free ;

For step and voice their pride bespeak. I love her as we love a bird

That sings of heaven, when teardrops start;

Ah, Kittie, every music word'

Of thine finds echo in my heart.

Go, child of sunshine, singing go;

If birds can reach their heaven, 'tis thine To make a lovelier heaven below,

To warm this chill and Northern clime; With thee, I dream of Nile's soft flow; Of dark-eyed goddess, lotus-crowned; Of forest-queen; of forms that glow From painter's royal-tinted ground.

I love thee for thy free, wild grace,
For kisses thy pure lips have shed
Upon another fair young face.

O Saviour, bless each darling head!
Life's poems, little cherub girls, —
That still we read and linger o'er,
And lost to us become the pearls,
God's angels, finding, claim once more.

NIGHT IN THE CITY.

By Mrs. E. M. Bruce.
SOME One is dying near to me;
I hear the angels call;
A wailing wind is whispering
Of knell and bier and pall;
The shadow of a passing soul
Is drooping over all.

It may be young; it may be old;
As men count life's brief day;
It may be burdened deep with sin,
Or pure, I cannot say.

I only know a human soul

Hath this hour passed away. Some one is born now near to me; The notes of joy I hear;

The blessed benedicite

Is falling on my ear; The wings of the gift-angel

Are flitting very near.

And, do I dream? or, is there now,
A radiant beam of light,
As if the portal of the skies,
Had not been closed quite,
When earth's o'er-weary traveller
Took thence its happy flight?

By Mrs. O. Spring Matteson.

"I'm so glad 'tis spring!" says the lit tle four-year-old, who, much against its own inclination, has been cooped up in the house, shut out from the music of the birds, the whispering of the rills, the blushing of the flowers, the kiss of the zephyrs, and the sound of the soft pattering rain, for four long, dreary months.

I sympathize with that child; for I dearly love the beauties of God's summer, and as eagerly welcome the buoyant spring again as does the little four-yearold. I am glad 'tis spring.

"Mother, I hear some birds; spring is surely coming," says the school-girl, who has followed the same course back and forth, every day through the long winter. "I'm glad winter is gone; for, although I love to go to school, and love the beautiful snow, it is so very cold, after all."

I know all about that; for I was once a school-girl, and although I did love my books, my teacher, and my school, and although I did relish those long, merry sleigh-rides in the bitter cold, and those dear old spelling-schools and singingclasses and evening-parties, after all, when sweet spring burst its fetters and came forth draped in buds and blossoms, I welcomed it warmly and joyously. That was in my own springtime, and now that summer with its sober realities has come upon me, and schools and frolicsome sleigh-rides are not for such as I, oft-recurring winter comes on all too soon and holds its reign much too long, and I am glad when the white carpet is melted

dreary mornings; and I don't like to go to school such weather either."

I don't blame that boy a particle. I mean for not wanting to build fires. It makes me shiver, even now, to see a big, stout man, like H-, for instance, get up in the piercing cold, and fumble and fuss over the stove, with his fingers all purple with frost, and his nose as red as a beet, although some people carry bright red noses even in the warm summer weather, when they get too well acquainted with the inside of a beer or liquor saloon; but, thank God, that's not the case with H

No, I don't blame that boy; for it almost freezes one to get up in a cold room and have a warm fire to run to, without stopping to kindle one. But somebody must build fires here in the North, where we have no negroes. Of course, they are made of something coarser, something that can endure frost and fire better than white people, for the special use of their delicate masters. Well, I am glad for their sakes that it's not so frosty in the South.

"It looks pleasant to see spring again," says the farmer. "These cold winters, with the bitter out-door chores, make a man feel old and lazy. Now it seems as if I could live again. Really, I think I hear some wild geese.'

Yes, I know how they sound. 'Tis a pleasant thing to hear; for it shows that warra weather is not far off. Wild geese and ducks bring warm weather with them. "Well, really, it does look like spring," says the gentcel business man. "I'm sick of this dull business. I hope spring will bring with it a flow of customers; for during this horrid cold weather we have hardly made day wages, for all we have had such a glorious chance, since this war commenced, of swindling customers."

Yes, I knew before this why he longed for spring weather. But, foolish man, didn't he know that people would go without a great many luxuries and even necessaries before they would pay such exorbitant prices for everything as he asks just because the war gives him the chance? Well, Heaven grant that times