III.

A MEMORY.

"At the door you will not enter,

I have gazed too long,--adieu!
Hope withdraws her peradventure,
Death is near me and not you."

MISS BARRETT.

SLOWLY fades the misty twilight,
O'er the thronged and noisy town;
Clouds are gathered in the distance,
And the clouds above it frown.
Yet before her, leaves swayed lightly
In the hushed and drowsy air,
And the trees reclothed in verdure,
Had no murmur of despair.

She had gazed into the darkness,
Seeking through the busy crowd,
For a form once pressing onward
With a step as firm and proud.
For a face upturned in gladness
To the window where she leaned
Smiling with an eager welcome,
Though a step but intervened.

Even now her cheek is flushing
With the rapture of that gaze;
And her heart as then beats wildly-
Oh, the memory of those days!
As a dear, dear dream it cometh,
Swiftly as a dream it flies!
No one springeth now toward her,
Smiling with such earnest eyes.

No one hastens home at twilight, Watching for her hand to wave; For the form she seeks so vainly Sleeps within the silent grave; And the eyes have smiled in dying, Blessing her with latest life, Smiled in closing o'er the discord

Of the last wild earthly strife.

IDEAL HUSBANDS;

OR,

SCHOOL-GIRL FANCIES.

CHAPTER I.

Miss Juliet Capulet was mistaken. There is undoubtedly much in a Charcoal Sketches.

name.

"True love is at home on a carpet,

And mightily likes his ease;

True love has an eye for a dinner,
And starves under shady trees."

N. P. WILLIS.

ET me usher you, without ceremony, dear ladies, into No. 20, a commodious apartment on the first floor of a wayside inn. It is undoubtedly the pleasantest room in the house, and, at this moment, is enlivened by the presence of two young and beautiful girls. There are huge travelling-trunks and carpet-bags, yawning widemouthed; for the ladies are just completing the fatiguing process of packing. Thus far they have journeyed in company, but now their paths separate; and as they have been room-mates at school for two years, you can imagine there is much to be said on both sides.

"Clara," said the younger, a bright-eyed maiden "just seventeen," "is n't it time to dress? The stage leaves in an hour, I

heard the waiter say. You do my hair, and then I'll braid yours. We shall not have a chance to play waiting-maid for each other very soon again.”

"True; but don't forget your promise, that I am to be your bridesmaid," was the reply.

66

Nonsense," said the other-blushing, nevertheless, as young girls will when the subject is thus brought home to them; "you will need my services first, Clara. You are older than I.”

"But you are prettier than I, Ella."

"You flatterer!" and the curls Ella had gathered over her little white hands were suffered to fall caressingly about her friend's face. "Besides," continued Clara Howard, "you are an heiress; and I"- her red lip curled scornfully-"I am dependent upon a stepfather for the very necessaries of existence."

"How can you say 'dependent' so bitterly, when you know how kindly he speaks of you, and loves you, I am sure?"

"Yes, I know he loves me; but his own large family are to be provided for; and so, you see, puss, I lack one of the essential qualifications to the estate matrimonial. What were you telling me about Mr. Huntington? I was so busy then."

"Oh, only Frank says he will join our party (I can say our party this year) at the Mountain House; and, you know, I have wanted to meet him so long. I wonder if he will like me?" she added, musingly.

"He is certain to do so, if he once sees you. And, Ella, I declare, you are half in love with him already. Your sister evidently thinks him perfection."

"You know he was her husband's friend for years, Clara ; and -I wonder how he looks," the young girl said abruptly. "Strange, Agnes has never described him to me!"

"She wishes you to be surprised. I have no doubt he is a

splendid fellow."

"Oh, he must be.

Tall-yes, I am sure he is tall. I never

could endure short men. Then, he has jet black whiskers and a mustache. And his hair must wave; not curl, but wave a little over his brow. He must have a beautiful mouth, too, or I am sure I could not like him. Clara, positively, I never could marry a man who was not tall and graceful, with dark eyes and whiskers, and a perfect mouth. Yes, and an aristocratic name he must have, too, or I never could consent to change my own for his. 'Ella Kirkland' is far too pretty to be lost in Smith, or Jones, or Thompson. Let me think: Huntington-it's a beautiful name, is n't it?"

"Yes, Ella Huntington is not so bad. But I don't care a fig for a name, so a man is wealthy. I believe I would marry plain John Jones, if he was as ugly as poor Jackson with his red hair and weak eyes, provided plain John Jones had five thousand a year."

"Oh, Clara, don't talk in that way; I know you are only joking. But then-"

"No, I'm not joking," retorted the other, firmly, almost fiercely.

Poor girl! she is not the only woman of her age who considers wealth an essential to domestic happiness. She had been reared with luxurious tastes and habits; but the wealth that supplied the one and fostered the other, had not been her own; and the taunts of her mother's step-children had only created a desire for a fortune under her own control, that she might outshine those who were her superiors only in the wealth she so coveted. But Clara Howard is not our heroine, beautiful as she certainly was,