Year: 1863

The sad but stately procession had
passed into the church, and even the aisles
of the venerable building were thronged
with persons. One might have thought,
who looked upon the coronet, glittering on
the cushion Of crimson velvet, and all the
other insignia of high rank, that curiosity
alone had drawn thither such a crowd
but a deeper interest was marked on every
countenance, and the firm voice of the
minister had falteredi more than once as
he read the solemn service. Yet the cof-
I'm was that Of child--a- little tender
infant who had died. in its6rst unconscious.
rhelplessBess. Every one thought OF the
father, standing up among them and-look-
ing so deselate in his grief. More than
one fond mother wept, and drew her red
cloak closely round the infant on her
bosom, as she gazed around upon the
mournful pomp, and the little coffin, and
the Young nobleman-childless and worse
than widowed as he stood there, and fol-
lowed with his eyes the movement OF the
men then placing the coffin of his child in
the shadowy darkness Of the open vault
below him. That church was a place Of
agonizing recollection to the young Earl
of Derby. Often had he entered it a
happy husband; and, as he walked slowly
down the aisle to his carriage, he could
not help recalling the day when his beau
tiful bride had chung, in trembling bash
fulness, to his arm, when he had there, for
the first time, called her his wife. {" | am
sick of all this idle pompW he said to
himself, as he entered the wide hall of his
own magnificent residence, attended by his
train of servants, and met by the obsequi-
GUS bows of the men who had conducted
the funeral; II am sick of all this
mockery l will bear it no longer. Would
that were poor, hard-working peasant,
with some honest hearts to care for me
and love me am heartily tired of your
great people"


Not many weeks after the funeral OF
the heir of the noble house Of Derby, a
solitary wayfaring man stopped at the
turning of a little foot-path, which led
down the sloping side of the hill over.
looking the village of H. He had
been leisurely wandering on since the
early hours of the morning, and had moi
vet found the place where he would rest
for the night. f" Here, at least, is happy
scene," he said as he looked down upor
the little village at the foot of the hill
About fifty or sixty persons were scattered
in careless groups, about the pleasant
green. Some of them were dancing be
meath a venerable grove of elms-other'
were crowding round the only booth which
had been raised in the rustic fair. A
least | may witness their enjoyment
though cannot share il" he said I; and
in few moments, he was standing be
meath the old trees on the green.
But, although he was not recognized a
the Earl of Derby, and disgusted by tn
attentions paid to his rank and station, h
found the familiarity of vulgar minds AM
low manners not quite so agreeable as h
had perhaps expected. Quietly he turne,
away from the noisy scene. He passe'
over the old bridge, which crosses tn
clear and shallow stream, and turned dow
a lane, the banks of which were overgrow


with wild flowers and struggling bushes {
birch. sufficiently high and thick to NEE
overhead, and form a perfect bower {
grateful shade. A poor woman was re


burning home through the lane with he


children, her infant sleeping soundly Q


her bosom, and curly headed urchin di


tending his cheeks with putting at hit


painted trumpet, the horrid grating


which had all the charm of novelty an


noise to him. The young mother locke


SO hot and tired, and withal SO goo


humored, that the Earl could not resi-


asking her if she could direct him to