m

slowly out over the trodden grass. did so for a moment, when a sound-a Presently she came to high banks of sound of positive steps—not still and ferns, which no camp-fires had reached stealthy, but light, quick, eager steps, and no feet had crushed, walling her in she heard approaching very near to and pervading the air with fragrance. her. From what direction—the foliage She paused under a tree with low-bend- was so dense-she did not see, nor did ing boughs, and listened. She heard she wait to do so. For the first time the birds stirring in their nests,—the conscious that she was alone, and at tiny chirp of the mother-birds soothing some distance from the tent, she was their broods; but otherwise the little alarmed, and started from her leafy choristers of love were still. She lis- thicket to retrace her steps. She bad tened to the clear cry of the katy-dids not taken two when a long shadow fell in the branches high over her head, and across the grass before her, and she to the slender horn of the crickets heard her name spoken in slightly piping in the grass. She heard the tremulous yet assuring tones. She turnhum of insect-folk-the murmuring na- ed, and there, just dividing the walls of tives of the summer air all a-thrill with fern, almost at her side, stood Paul life and love, stirring, with their low, Mallane. pervading music, the wide realms of " Don't be alarmed. Don't go away, silence. Storms gone by had given the I beg of you, Miss Vale. Pardon me, night-air that pure rare quality which if I intrude—and I know that I domakes the August of New England the yet you will be doing me the greatest most delicious month of the year. Ei- kindness if you will remain for a morene leaned her head against the old ment; then I will escort you back to tree, and looked up through its um- the tent." brage to the sky, conscious of nothing No human being could doubt the sinbut utter content. She only knew that cerity of his words, uttered in such she was happy, and did not question tones of anxiety and entreaty. Eirene, wherefore. Too young to analyze emo- frightened by his sudden and unaction, too innocent to dream of ill, she countable appearance, could think of took in, through soul and sense, the ex- nothing but that he must be the bearer ceeding beauty of God's world, and of some unexpected and imperative was glad. How could she know-this message to herself, exclaimed, “ What girl-woman-that she had come there has happened, Mr. Mallane ? Have to meet her fate. How could she, they sent for me from Hilltop? Oh, whose heart had never known another tell me what it is! How kind of you love than that of child and sister, know to come !" Already her affectionate that even now her feet trembled on that heart and excited imagination had leapperilous border-land of passion, from ed to the conclusion that some misforwhich, once touched, there is no retreat. tune had befallen the loved inmates of

A quick rustle of leaves, a stir in the the dormer cottage. air, a consciousness of a second pres- Nothing has happened at Hilltop ence, came to her together. She start which has sent me after you, Miss Vale," ed; and that instant a squirrel jumped answered Paul, in tones which he tried through a mesh of leaves near her feetto make calm and soothing. “Nothing and began to scumper up an adjoining has happenedl, and yet I have come tree.

here on purpose to see you. I have ' Bun, was it you ?" she asked, with been here all day. I don't care a fig a low laugh.

for the camp-meeting-though Viner's “Bun, it is time to go to bed ;” and, sermon, this afternoon, was really a again leaning her head against the model of oratory. I came here on purrough bark of the tree, she watched' pose to speak with you. Don't look Bun as he went jumping to the very frightened. Don't think me rude if I top of his green ladder. Yet she only am abrupt. I have waited so long, I

66

have wanted so much to speak with saw you when you started for camp. you, I can't stop now for preliminaries meeting this morning ; till then I had or conventionalities. It is now nearly not a thought of going. But it oca year since I saw you first. All this curred to me that here would be a good time I have been trying to forget you. place to tell you what has been so long The result has been that I have thought in my mind; and I should have told of you twice as much as if I had not you, before I left to-night, though it tried to put you out of my mind. I had been in the presence of all those knew that I had no right to intrude pious old ladies in the tent, who would upon you, and yet I could not refrain have gone back and published it to all from sending you those pictures, as Busyville to-morrow. It is due to you tokens of my remembrance, and the to know what you have done for me." magazines, hoping that they might " What I have done for you," slowly brighten your life a very little. Did said Eirene, in astonislıment. “Why, you receive them ?"

Mr. Mallane, I have never been able to “ Yes, and thank you for them so do any thing for any one in all my life, much," said Eirene. “I cannot tell you except for those at home, and very little the pleasure they have given me.” for them. What could I do for you?"

“I am glad of that,” replied Paul, “I will tell you what you have done,” with an expression of intense gratifica- said Paul, reverently. “You have made tion. " That was all I sent them for all women more sacred in my eyes. It —not as advances toward acquaintance. is not your fault if you have not made Indeed, I came home yesterday with no me a better man. I think of you all definite expectation of finding myself the time; more than of all other human any better acquainted with you at the beings put together. When I have reclose of this vacation than when I went membered you, studying alone in your back last autumn. But when I found cold little room, I have been ashamed that you were gone, I felt so angry at of my own indolence beside my warm the thought of the unkindness which fire. When I have thought of you, so you had endured, I resolved that I young and tender, working hard with would see you, and tell you that I, at your hands for others, I have been least, have lifted my voice against the ashamed of my own selfishness. When unjust persecution which followed you I have thought of your innocence, I during all your stay in my father's have been ashamed of my own wicked house."

thoughts and evil ways. For, if any At these words a look of pain and one has told you that I am not a very of entreaty came into Eirene's eyes. good fellow, they have told you the Paul saw at a glance that whatever her truth. I am not. But if any one can life had been in his father's house, she improve me, you can.” could not talk of it.

" You make me feel very much “But that is not all I wished to say ashamed,” said Eirene. “I never feel to you,” he hastened to add. “For certain that any thing I do is the very months I have wanted to tell you what best thing to be done. I am always you have done for me, and what you afraid that I might do better. I can't can do for me, if you only will. Very tell you, Mr. Mallane, how very uncerlikely, if I had found you still in our tain I feel. But it will make me very house, I might have refrained from tell- happy to think that I may be of service ing you. But when I saw that you

if you will only tell me how I were gone, I felt more than disappoint- can do it.” ed-I felt ill-tempered—for I knew that “Why--if you will only take a little you had been really driven away by un- interest in me,” said Paul ; "if you kindness. Then I made up my mind to will care a little whether I am good or let you know what you had done for not, or happy or not. In short, if you me, and that I was your true friend. I won't be perfectly indifferent to me;

that will help me. I can tell you it such a friend. No. Her heart thrilled will be a great incentive to try to do with a new delight as it asked, how right, if I know that you care." could one so strong and radiant for a

“But I do care, Mr. Mallane. I have moment need her sympathy, or pause, cared ever since,”

in his bright life, to proffer his friend“ Ever since when ?"

ship? Thus, with her large soft gaze " Ever since Tilda said"

unconsciously lifted to his, she said, “ What did Tilda say?”

“I am sure it will make me happy to “ She said, Mr. Mallane, that you think of you always as my friend; and were not quite good."

it will make my life seein wider and “I am not quite good," said Paul, brighter if I can only believe that I penitently. “But, then, you cared !” help another." he added, with a quiver of delight in “ Help another! You can make me his voice.

what you please,” was Paul's passionate Yes, I cared very much. Some way, ejaculation. it hurt me just to hear it. I thought, As he spoke, the first lines of Charles for the sake of your brothers and sis- Wesley's inspired hymn, ters, and for your father's and mother's, who are so proud of you, that you

" Love divine, all love excelling,

Joy of heaven to earth come down," ought to be very noble, Mr. Mallane."

“ You did! I ought to be noble for came rolling through the air on the joytheir sakes? Yes. I ought to be, I ful voices of the congregation. Never suppose. But you haven't the faintest could it have sounded more expressive idea what a fight it is—the world tug- and sacred than in the soft air of that ging at you outside, inside the devil. August night; never more triumphant, Why, it is the hardest thing on earth as in great waves of melody it rolled for a man to do, to be noble. If you up through the forest-trees. Paul was were only in the world, you would irreverent, more through cultivation know it. But you can't know it. You and habit than from nature. This mosee it as you find it in good books, and ment the anthem was in perfect harin your own heart. But if you care, mony with the place and with his feelI'll try. Pll try to be just what you ings. Now the mother moon, who bewould like me to be.”

fore had been peering through the Helena Maynard and Bella Prescott, branches of the trees, sailed forth into could they have heard the tones in the open space of sky, and looked diwhich these words were uttered, would rectly down into these children's faces, have found nothing of their haughty as if to see them and listen to what Adonis in this humble youth. But they were saying. They stood silent, Paul Mallane was by no means the first listening. The hymn ceased. Words worldly man who has stood contrite of worship-a strange commingling of before the innocence of a girl.

religion, devotion, and love-began to “ You have promised to care, to take surge into Paul's very throat for utter. some interest in me," he went on. ance, when the crackling of boughs, “Now, if you will promise to think of crushed by rapid footsteps, called him me—under all circumstances to think suddenly back to earth and to his senses. of me as—as your friend, it is all that There, rushing through the branches I can ask."

broken off for the morning fires, Paul, It was not in eighteen girlish years, to his dismay and anger, beheld Tilda not in a girl with such a guileless and Stade coming directly toward them. loving heart, to look up to the face The hymn, which had just filled the air which gazed down upon hers, quivering with such joyful peace, had closed the and luminous with feeling, full of en- evening service. The moment it was treaty, at once manly and tender, and, ended Tilda hastened to the tent-but seeing it, to say that she did not want to find Eirene gone from the camp-seat, where she had left her. She questioned sary to say to her. I have heard of you one of the mothers of Israel, and the as being very zealous in your efforts to old lady's reply was by no means satis- do good. Let me tell you that nothing factory : “ She went off more'n an hour could do me more good than the priviago, and I hain't seen nothin' of her lege of speaking with this young lady. sence.” Tilda, who considered Eirene If you are such a missionary, take care poetic, or, as she called it, “ childish,” how you interfere with the only chance to the verge of irresponsibility, thought I have on earth of becoming a Chrisnow that she had gone out sky-gazing, tian. Miss Vale, may I accompany you but was prepared for nothing worse. to the tent ?" Imagine, then, the shock which this Tilda, who had started to seize Eirene worthy young woman received, when by the arm, and lead her back as a culrushing into the green inclosure back prit, was confounded by the overpowerof the tent. In the moonlight, bright ing manner of this young man, and all as a second day, she beheld, with terri- the more that the thought crowded inble distinctness, this child of her care to her mind that she remembered him standing under a wide-spreading tree, when he wore frocks and aprons. The and by her side an “awful man.” Im- tone of deference with which he adagine her increased horror when, draw- dressed Eirene was not to be mistaken. ing near enough to discern his features. The most exacting lady in the land she discovered that this man was no could not have demanded more, as he other than that young wolf of the walked by her side, while the discomworld, against whom she had warned fited Tilda followed behind. When, at her lamb so long.

the door of the tent, he bade her good“Eirene Vale !” she exclaimed in her night, with his hat in his hand, he had astonishment and anger. “Eirene Vale, not the air of a man who was ashamed was it for this you didn't feel able to go of himself, or ashamed of his company, to meetin'? So you stayed back to although he made his adieu before the meet a man—and this man! Haven't amazed eyes of the gossips of BusyI warned you ?” [Losing all self-con- ville. One of them declared, in the trol.] “Paul Mallane, you'd better be shop, next day, “ Where he dropped in better business !"

from, at that time of night, the Lord “Miss Stade,” interrupted that youth, only knows; but there he was, in the in lofty tone, "you don't know what tent-door, bowing good-night to that you are talking about. But I request Vale girl, as if she had been a queen." you to speak more respectfully to this “So all I brought her to camp-meetlady. She stay to meet me! to meet in' for was to meet that man,” groaned any one! You know better. I in- Tilda, as she tumbled about on a cotton truded myself upon her, because there comforter which she had spread over was something which I thought neces- the straw on the ground.

WHAT THEY ARE DOING IN MEXICO.

THE reading public have so long been friends of virtuous liberty gained power, accustomed to a repetition of ills occur- the money, unscrupulous intrigues, and ring in our neighboring Republic, that heartless crimes of this ecclesiastical hiea species of chronic sentiment seems to rarchy were promptly brought into requihave assumed the “infermidad Mexi- sition to crush the patriots and destroy cano" to be incurable. There are those, the growing power of liberty. To this however, whose opportunities for form- unrighteous source is that unfortunate ing opinions, by residence in the coun- land indebted for the many and destructry, entitle their views to consideration, tive revolutions which have so long and who cite divers important evidences preyed upon its vitals, till other peoples, going to show that, amid all her calami. unenlightened as to the ever-pervading ties and complications, Mexico has made issue, come to regard the whole with some grand strides in the route towards indiscriminate aversion. It is time that regeneration and constitutional liberty. We, as a nation of free citizens, should It is not understood as it should be, by better understand the actual condition the people of this more favored land, of things in our sister Republic, in whose that, when Mexico arrived at an inde- happiness and prosperity we have, and pendent national existence, in 1821, must ever have, so great an interest. owing more to the imbecility of Spain The real, all-pervading issue in Mexico, than to her own power, the people were divested of those side-issues spasmodistill sunk in a degree of slavish igno- cally arising in a country so little enrance and superstition as lamentable as lightened, is a contest for constitutional, any that prevailed in Christendom dur representative government, guaranteeing the existence of the Inquisition; ing civil and religious liberty on the and the new Government, resulting one hand, and, on the other, for the from the separation from the mother- perpetuation of the atrocious political country, was as completely under the and ecclesiastical despotism inherited control of an inquisitorial, ecclesiastic- from Spain-a priestly despotism which, al despotism, as had been the vice-regal with resources, wealth, and power never institutions under Spain. The religious surpassed in any country, for over three despotism remained the same, and long hundred years, used it for the enslavecontinued well-nigh the same. A gen- ment, debasement, and oppression of eration was required to teach a respect the multitude. In such a contest, no able minority that a free Republic and man who inbales the air of this counspiritual despotism, controlled by a cor- try can hesitate as to which party to the rupt and fanatic priesthood, were wholly array is entitled to his sympathy. incompatible, and that the one or the The Republican party, born in the other must perish. Long and bloody folds of the great mailed corruption, as were the years from 1821 to 1857, through other great parties have come into bewhich this idea pushed its way through ing in other lands, was nurtured through the Mexican mind. At every station a long and feeble infancy, and for years along the route it was confronted, am- durst not raise its voice above an imbushed, flanked, and undermined, by ploring whisper ; but, in the year 1857, that terrible power which had so long it had acquired sufficient strength to and cruelly reigned supreme over the form the present and only free constiminds and actions of the people. When- tution Mexico has ever had. This, however, under the inspirations of some such ever, was not put in operation till 1859 ; patriot as Pedraza or Gomez Forios, the and, from 1862 to 1867, European bayo