Year: 1877

In the hrst place he is unpleasantly
truthful, and thereby getting one con-
stantly into awkward scrapes; in the
next, he looks with perfect horror on
round dances, believing them inventions
of his satanic majesty, and 1, who dote
upon them, have to tell our guests-how
you would laugh to hear me-that / do
not allow them. Oo you remember our
first galopO


Then he insists upon entertaining
every month some fifty dreadful chill
dren whom he gathers from the sur
rounding villages, and 1 am compelled
to assume the part of the lovely, chari-
table young mistress of the mansion, in
white decorated with blue ribbons, and
preside over the feast, the money ex-
pended on which 1 can't help thinking
all the time would have added some
nice little trife to my wardrobe or jewell
case.


Just think of it Pouring out tea
and cutting cake for half a hundred
pauper children-I who hate poverty in
any form and only like children in
poetry.


But to go back to the subject. You
can make your appearance as soon as
| the house is mine and will introduce
you as an acquaintance made in town at
one of the Lida Cranston's receptions.
And when you do appear you must get
rid of, for time, at least q wouldn't
have you give it up altogether, for to me
it is intensely amusing), your habit of
making fun of everything and every
body. :


And you must also pretend great in
terest in cocoons, chrysalis and all sorts
of horrid insects and in everything re-
lating to birds and animals, and never
forget to pat the dog and stroke the cat
whenever they come near you.


You can be very agreeable fellow
when you choose, and L am sure with a
little pardonable hypocrisy you can make
Uncle Maurice like you.


Once he likes you, I'll follow suit
which will be compliment to his taste
and fall in love with you.


Then we can marry as soon as we
choose. Immediately after our mar
riage business calls you to Europe; the
house is to-let-I have an excellent tenant
in view-and with many expressions of
regret, we bid farewell to our tiresome
uncle.


Now, Charles, send me no more
grumbling letters. My programme
must be carried out, and carried out
with much discretion, for besides the gift
expect on my twenty-frst birthday I
shall receive, as you know, large sum
of money when Uncle Maurice dies, be-
ing his only legal heir.


/ OF course some wretched institutions
for wretched people will come in for q
share, but have every reason to hope
the greater portion of his wealth will be
mine.


You hint that he may marry again.
No fear of it. He adds extreme con-
stancy to his other humdrum virtues,
and has scarcely looked at another
woman, so friends tell me, since his wife
died, fifteen years ago.


Indeed, he himself told me one even
ing in an unwonted fit of confidence that
"his heart was buried in his Cecelia's
grave" or words to that effect And
knowing that said heart is safely slowed
away under tombstone, it is rare salts
faction to me TO watch the young maids
old maids and widows setting their caps
at him whenever they can get chance
which is very seldom, and to see hin
walking the while sublimely Indifferent
among them, totally unconscious of theil
hopes and fears.


One of the old maids, they say, il
really in love with him, and has been al
her life, since her childhood's days
when he and she attended the villag,
school together.
In return for her early affection sh,
: had the honor of being bridesmaid t.
her successful rival, aud I fear he
later devotion will meet with no return
at all.


She is a Quakeress Wilson b.
name-one of those timid, low-voiced
; dark haired, selfsacrifcing women, witt
| eyes like a cow, that women of the worlt
cannot tolerate.


: I must say that she has never shown il
the slightest way the feeling ascribe,
! to her in my presence.


s True, she came here when Uncl
Maurice was so sick last summer, an
! nursed him through the delirious par
L of his fever land [ was very glad to hav
her do it, as / was terribly afraid of in
y fection), but that goes for nothing, a
she is fond OF playing the part of siste


of charity, and is oftener found at th


bedside Of some very i'll OF dying perso
e than IN her own ridiculously snug littl
n cottage.


v However, I was careful to have her &
!. before uncle became conscious, and hav
t taken care ever since that he neve
II should find out she was here. Not thf


/ think there is any more danger in tbs
Y quarter than any other, for Uncl
Ii Maurice, when they meet, which is onl
e on the childrens' tea and cake day.
d seems scarcely aware of her presence.
> But, as 1 said before, in cases lik
d this, one can hardly be too careful
n Uncle believes firmly that to the III
n ceasing care and untiring watehfulnet
" OF his devoted neice he owes his lif
E. May he continue in that belief!
ic And now goodbye. Destroy th
o letter as soon as read and rely implicit
r. on the judgment and constancy of


Your own LUCILLE.
ut The gentleman had Just finished rea
II ing these lines when down came Il
N rain in torrents, but he deliberate


folded the paper and placed it in h
e. pocket, buttoned his coat across h
le breast, crushed his soft, broad -brimmt


hat over his eyes and turned about in