Year: 1862

THE GROWN OF A HUNDRED SOUS.

 It was past midnight, and the bride had al ready been some time in the nuptial chamber when the young spouse succeeded at last in es caping from his friends and leaving the ballroom when he aseended the stairs, upon one of thu landing places of which waiting maid met hin and told him to enter.

 The new husband rapped lightly upon the doc and threw himself at the feet of woman, wht was waiting for him, seated near the fire, in al elegant night dress, such as rich widow migh be expected to wear whose desires had been sat isfed by a new marriage.

 Rise, my friend,' said she to her spouse, giv ing her hand.

 No, no, madam,' replied the young man, ssiz ing upon white hand which was clasped be tween his own, and carried to his lips sNo leave me at your feet, and do not withdraw youl hand, for fear lest you may escape me /; l feal that all this is only illusion it seems to me thai l am the hero of one whose fairy tales I usec to hear when a child, and that at the very mo m ,nt of being happy, the malicious fairy is go ing to fly away, to laugh with her companions al my sorrow and despair

 Be assured, my friend, that yesterday was Lord Melville's widow and now, sir, an Ma dame de la Tour, your wife. Dispel from your imagination your childhoods fairy. The tale is but a fable.'

 NJ. Frederic de la Tour had some reason to suspect that superior genius interfercd with his affairs, for, within the last month either chance or inexplicable good fortune had rendered him rich and happy beyond his desires. His age was 25; he was an orphan and barely lived upon an employment in which he was engaged when passing one day through the street Saint Honore, a splendid coach stopped near him and an ee- gantly dressed lady leaned over the carriage door and called out to him, though not by name. The driver descended, let down the foot board, and hat in hand, respectfully invited NJ. Frede rick to be seated by the side of this woman, gilt tering with jewels. The coachman then drove off.

 Sir said the lady, who had thus taken him up, with sweet voice, I have received your letter, but notwithstanding your refusal l yet hope to see you tomorrow at my evening party. l Me, madam ? replied Frederic.

 Yes, sir, you-Ah! l beg your pardon,' cried the lady with surprise, beg your pardon, sir, but you so much resemble a person of my ac- quaintance that took for him. Ah, sir, excuse =. What must you think? Indeed the re- semblance is so striking that any one in the world would be deceived as have been.'

 Before this explanation was ended the coach stopped in the court of q superb mansion, and NJ. Frederic could no: but offer his hand to Lady Melville. Frederic, dazzled by so much grace, was easily subjugated. He congratulated him. self upon the happy chance which gave rise to his acquaintance with Lady Melville he accept ed her invitation, and in a few days became one of her most frequent visitors. The rich widow i was surrounded 5y admirers; but they dropped off one by one, and things were so arranged be- fore week had rolled by, that the little clerk had made the widows house his home. Mar rage was agreed upon, but it was she who first proposed it.

 1 Frederic would sometimes place himself in the morning before his little glass. and consider himself with some attention. He was not ugly, neither was he handsome. His dress moderate, as must be that of a clerk with a salary of eight hundred francs, did not permit him to attribute his good furtune to his tailor. He was forced to tle conclusion that lie was loved for himself, or else that Lady Melville was fascinated. When the marriage settled, when the future spouse was before the notary, his astonishment was re doubled They declared his property to be over million. He owned, according to the contract a farm in Normandy, a house in Paris, in the street Saint Honore, and other real estate which he had never before heard mentioned. The wid ow was rich in forci ign wealths. She had farms in Wales and pastures in Devonshire. All was to Frederic golden dream, and he longed to awake from it. The mayor and the curate came to sanction the union, but neither the marriage soemnity nor the law was able to dispel his doubts, and he did not leave his wife's feet, but grasped in his hand the embroidered muslin of her night dress, through fear that the dream would vanish.

 'Rise, Frederic said his wife again. 'come to this arm chair of mine, and let us converse

 The young man at last obeyed though yet un- willing to release his hold of his wife hand, and Mada do Ia Tour onoad follouS.

 There was once on a time

 'There,' cried Frederick, 80 was not de ceived. It is in truth fairy tale.'

 Listen to me, my friend. There was once on time young girl born of parents who had formerly been wealthy, but who, when fifteen years of age, had to subsist upon the industry of her father. They resided in Lyons, but some hopes of better fortune brought them to Paris Nothing is so difficult as to recover a lost for tune or to regain lost rank. This young girl found it so for years she struggled with misery without being able to vanquish it, and died in the hospital.

 The mother soon followed the husband, and the young girl was. left alone in the attic, fo, which the rent was unpaid. Its only furniture was two beds. If there were fairy in the tale which l am relating, this is certainly the mo ment in which she should appear but there is none in it. The young girl remained at Paris without friends, without protectors, without aid leaving at Lyons debts which she was unable te pay, and in vain seeking for labor, the wealth O the poor. Vice, it is true, stretched its arms te her, but there are pure souls that can pass vic' without looking at it, or, at least, without suffer ing themselves to be sullied by its breath.

 Meantime life was necessary the hunger o the day redoubled at night, and the misery of tn, night was added to a second day passed without food. You rise from table grooming under it