lavished upon him, when a rapid rise in city property had elevated him from the legatee of a small out-of-town farm to one of the richest men in New York. Despising the falseness and unreality of fashionable society, he still fancied he could detect in some hearts true and warm feelings; and the bright eyes and sweet voice of Matilda Sumner so enslaved him that he forgot to scrutinize, and believed that the lovely exterior was the true index of as lovely a soul.

Bitter had been his disappointment, when the truth was gradually forced upon him, that his fair wife lived only in and for the world— that she valued his wealth and position, appreciated her acquired consequence as the wife of a millionaire, loved to exhibit the most tastefully furnished house, to give the most perfect entertainments; but as little understood what should constitute a true home as she valued the true heart that so vainly sought a resting-place.

And then, far away, he saw as in a vision

the scenes of his happy childhood-the low rolling pastures; the now distant hills rounding up against the golden sunset sky; the beautiful Mohawk, with the little island where he had built his fishing hut; the chestnut-tree where he had shaken down the burs, and the bright little face that watched him so anxiously, as he climbed higher and higher. Then the day of the spring freshet, the broken bridge, the eddy by the alder thicket, where sunny curls gleamed through the dark water; and once again, in memory, tears fell above the little grave far away on the hillside by the Mohawk.

In the parlor the merry council discussed people and names, and speculated on character and costume.

"Mamma," said Matilda, "don't admit any except fancy dresses; it will make the rooms look so brilliant."

"That is impossible, my dear; it would exclude many of our best people. There are numbers of our acquaintances who would not venture to wear fancy dresses."

"We are quite ready to venture," said Matilda, laughing, "and of course, Oscar, we can count upon you and all the girls."

"I am not quite certain," answered Oscar. "I am at your service, if you want me, and probably Helen and Milly; but I do not think that Marion and Cornelia will wear costumes."

Why not, does Aunt Amy object to it?" "She left it to themselves to decide, I believe, and they preferred to appear as spectators."

"I suppose they are too dignified, and consider it childish to 'dress up,'" exclaimed Matilda; "but married ladies do it, and even Mrs. Smith, who must be near fifty, went to Mrs. Selden's last year as Queen Elizabeth, and she looked splendid in her coronet of diamonds."

"The diamonds might perhaps be splendid; not Mrs. Smith!"

"Oh, you know dress makes any one look well. I wish I could decide about mine. I am so vexed that it rains to-night; I wanted Marion to help me. And Kate Selden and

Mary Lester were to be here, too and rehearse some of our tableaux."

"Tableaux!" said Oscar, "who is to per

form?"

"Nearly all who wear fancy dresses, so there will be no changing of dresses; and when they are over the ball will go on without delay. We have four tableaux selected. Julia will be the Bride of Abydos. I wish I could decide.” "Why don't you take that one from 'Lalla Rookh?'" said Julia, "you liked the dress so much."

"It will not do; I am not dark enough."

"Oh, Oscar," said Julia, "then do persuade Cornelia to appear; she has such magnificent black hair. If she will we will engage Captain Vernon to play the hero: it would make a splendid tableau."

"The same Captain Vernon who distin guished himself so highly on the frontier last season?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Lyndsay; "and he would be a capital match for Cornelia. He is heir to

a considerable property on the death of some old uncle or cousin. I know he admires her very much, and if she would only play him. off a little she could make a decided conquest.'

"I trust I shall never see my sisters degrade themselves by seeking conquests," said Oscar, rather proudly.

A slight flush tinged Mrs. Lyndsay's cheek as she replied, "Of course I do not mean anything forward, only a little justifiable coquetry, which is natural to all women; after all, she is not your sister."

"She is the same to me," he answered, "and there is nothing of the coquette about her."

"Well, never mind," said Matilda, "don't tell her all this; but try to enlist her for the tableaux."

"I should not be a very warm advocate, and you had better plead your own cause, when they come to-morrow to help you. But I will give them your messages."

"Now for the invitations," said Julia. "Mam