wore. The next carriage-load were all new faces one of the gentlemen had such magnificent moustaches, and the lady he was so attentive to, wore a plaid travelling dress and dark-brown gaiters. Mary Butler, indeed! She was miles away; and it served her right, too, the forward chit!

John was not yet convinced; he knew that his sister had good eyes-very sharp eyes, he might say—(“Why, John, you goodfor-nothing fellow!" broke in the amiable young lady in question)-but that was Mary Butler, and she might see for herself to-night, for of course she'd be at the party if it was.

At eight-for Rivertown people thought that hour the extreme of fashion—there was a goodly throng of guests assembled in the pretty parlours of Mrs. Jackson. Mrs. Harden was there, in the glory of a new black silk. Miss Harriet was irresistible in pure white, with a pink sash and bows down the skirt; her hair dressed after the pattern of the tallest figure in the last Lady's Book fashion plate. If it did not look well, it was not Adeline Mitchell's fault they did each other's curls always, and as Adeline had no invitation for this particular evening, she had exhausted two full hours and all her ingenuity, to do her friend's hair in the broadest, finest plaits that Rivertown was ever surprised with. Mrs. Folger and Mrs. Utley, though they had not expected to go, for they were little known in Mrs. Jackson's circle, were astonished at receiving cards, with a particular request in Mrs. Jackson's own handwriting, that they would not fail to be there. This they could not account for; the same note was appended to the card received by the Harden family, and a few others of their acquaintance; and Harriet had boasted not a little at the circumstance, from which she drew the inference that Mrs. Jackson wished her sister to be very intimate with them. This was told

more than once, and at last became " Mrs. Jackson said positively she should be very much hurt if we did n't come, being old neighbours so long."

The bride had not yet made her appearance, but the New York strangers were there; and Harriet was made inconceivably happy by Mrs. Jackson's introduction to the gentleman with moustaches, who began a most entertaining conversation. Mrs. Harden nodded and smiled at Mrs. Utley in delight; Harriet had doubtless made a conquest. Just at that moment, the bride and her attendants entered, and both mother and daughter stifled a scream of anger and amazement. Mary Butler-beautiful, so beautiful, in her satin dress, with tunics of delicate tulle· was the first bridesmaid!

Ah! there could be no mistake now. And if any there were, it had been quickly dispelled, for Harriet's companion, Mr. Costar, began most earnestly to praise Miss Butler, presuming that she was a friend of Miss Harden's. Poor Harriet, obliged to sit there and listen to the recital of Mary Butler's triumphs, how much she had been admired in the city, how every one had regretted her stay had been so short!

"You have such a treasure in her," said Mr. Costar; "I almost envy your delightful little town that one possession. She must be universally beloved, though, now I think of it, I recollect something Jorden told me of malicious stories got up by a set of disappointed old maids, or some people of that sort. Ah, yes," he continued, unconsciously, "that was the reason my little cousin was so particular that she should be first bridesmaid. I remember that Miss Butler would not listen to it at first. I wonder if any of those people are here to-night? Do you know any thing about it?"

Mr. Costar knew not that each word was a dagger to his listener. He had been told by his hostess to be very attentive to Miss Harden, and was so, because it was Mrs. Jackson's request. As her mother came rushing across the room to her, he politely resigned his seat, and left them to console each other in their mortification. They understood the particular invitation now. They began to have a glimmering of the truth. And was it not punishment enough to see Mary Butler moving as among her cquals, admired by the strangers, and noticed by the élite of Rivertown, who now sought one before unnoticed, because others did so? And she, not seeming to know any thing of this strange by-play, moved gracefully and gently among the guests, bearing her honours, or rather her deserved praises, most meekly.

SKETCH THE SECOND.

MORE OF MARY BUTLER.

CHAPTER I.

"Where did I leave off? Oh-"-WIDOW BEDOTT.

ITTLE occurred to disturb the tranquillity of Rivertown for some time after Mrs. Jorden, "the bride," as she was called for six months at least, was fairly settled in her comfortable new house.

Miss Adeline Mitchell lived exactly opposite, and during the cleaning, moving, etc., her mind and heart had been completely

occupied. Now and then Harriet Harden relieved her from her arduous post behind the second story window blind, and the two together could tell you any article of furniture that the Jordens possessed. John Harden vowed he believed they knew how many pails of water had been carried in from the street pump, and the exact quantity of lime that had been used in whitewashing. But Adeline said this was only because she happened to mention before him that there were two solar lamps, one for each parlour, and a mahogany bedstead in each of the front chambers. She did wonder, and she could not help it, why they wanted two washstands in the same room; she was sure there were no less than three marble-topped washstands in that house, besides four maple ones. The very "hired girl" had a new wash-bowl and pitcher.

She did not know what others might think, but for her part, as Mrs. Harden said, "easy come, easy goes," and she guessed Henry Jorden would learn to know the value of money one of these days, now that he'd got a wife that could help him spend it. She actually was going to keep two servants, a woman, and a little girl to run of errands, besides the man who took care of the horse and brought the water, and all that.

It was worse still when it was duly announced, by observant neighbours, that they had two horses, and Mr. Jorden had ordered a magnificent new carriage at Delamarten's, which magnificent establishment would have passed in New York for a plain, light family vehicle, and would have excited no attention whatever. Yet not once was it seen in the streets of Rivertown but clerks hastened to store-doors, milliners' apprentices dropped straw and silks to run to the "front shop," and servant-girls ran to call their mistresses, bidding them hurry as they came, "or it would

get by." Everywhere windows flew up, and blinds flew open; it was almost as much of an excitement as when "Dickens " passed through Main street the summer before. Every traveller who arrived at the Rivertown House for months afterwards, that was so unfortunate as to wear a linen blouse, and have an uncommon quantity of long, light hair, was surely "Dickens himself, again ;" and so any strange vehicle, of whatever description, that could boast of four wheels and a covered top, was at some period and by some persons, taken for the new carriage, and criticised and depreciated as such.

Gradually the fever of curiosity came to a crisis, it passed, and in the languor that succeeded the dearth of incident was unrclieved for weeks. But after the catalogue of Mrs. Jorden's furniture and wardrobe had been duly committed to memory, Mary Butler and her mother were once more taken under consideration. Mr. Jackson had interested himself very much in their behalf, and through his generous exertions they had gained a tiresome law-suit, and found themselves once more possessed of a small, but, for them, sufficient competency. Mary Butler had her own piano now, and her little parlour was as fairy-like a boudoir as one could wish to see. They had rented a cottage that stood back from one of the principal streets, with a closely shaven lawn in front, bordered by flowering shrubs of every description. A grape-vine clung with its sweeping foliage to the trellis that extended the length of the house, and here Mary was as happy as a bird with her books, her flowers, and her piano. She did no discredit to her teacher, and often, in the evening, her clear voice came ringing through the foliage, arresting the passerby with its wild melody, until quite a little audience gathered under the elm-trees; and the murmurs of applause, if not as loud,