but you cannot miss your tarn, if you follow anything before which conveyed to you such the stream which comes from it. The broad an impression of stillness? Let us lie down waterfall is our object for a great part of the on the grass on the brink, and see how unway; the ledge over which the water spreads, moved the shadows lie. See here! look at and offers a curtain of froth and a fringe of these diamond drops, sprinkled over the herspray which may be seen far off in all wea-bage. Parched and hot as all is below, see thers. We will not go too near it, but hold how a cloud has here come down,-stooped the path above, where the ferns make a show in its course, to brighten the verdure in this of fencing us in on either hand. We are such recess. It seems almost a pity that no lamb babies as to lead the sheep after us by baaing followed us hither: yet how would it start at as we go; and it is droll to see how puzzled the echo of its "solemn bleat," as Wordsthey look, and how they stare round them, as worth calls it, and how it would listen for the if not quite sure that they are right. But we sheep-dog's bark, or anything that would remust leave off that now; or we may lead them lieve it from the depth of silence here! Can you astray among the heights where they may fancy a yet more impressive retreat than this, bleat in vain for shepherd or mate. How they not far from us? It is said that on the glassy stand gazing after us. If they are here when surface of Bowscale tarn, round which the we return, we will escort them down again. rocks rise darker and higher than here, no Now, up this heathery slope,-and over this sunshine touches for four months of the year: bit of bog, and up, up, that indistinct path and now and then the stars may be seen at yonder, and we shall enter that purple hollow noonday. We cannot see that here: but look, where lies the tarn. Did you ever consider, look!-that is a sort of dawn breaking on the F. and S.,-what tarns are for?-what special deep gray of the water,-those converging silservice they render? Their use is to cause very lines trembling on the surface. Do you such a distribution of the waters as may ferti- see how it happens? The wild-drake has taken lize without inundating the lands below. Af- the water on the opposite shore; and this way ter rains, if the waters all came pouring down he comes with his brood behind him. Yesat once, the vales would be flooded: as it is, here are more dimples in the mirror,-from the nearer brooks swell, and pour themselves some restless fish or fly. And after all, we are out into the main stream, while the mountain not alone! Some one is under that mass of brooks are busy in the same way above, emp-rock, angling. F. says it is a woman. If so, it tying themselves into the tarns. By the time must be F. M. It is F. M.: and now the rocks the streams in the valley are subsiding, the have to echo our laughter at being thus reupper tarns are full, and begin to overflow; spectively frustrated in our search after soliand now the overflow can be received in the tude. But our friend has caught fish enough valley without injury. That is the office of for one day; and now she must sit down to these little mountain lakes. dinner with us, and help us to pity the Ambleside people, who would be glad enough of such a seat as ours, amidst dews and shadows, and fresh waters, and not a sound but of our own voices. Now, do you begin to feel it? Does not some breath of coolness steal out of the purple hollow? You observe what precipices gird it about: and now, at last, you see the dark gray sheet of water itself. Did you ever see THE DISCOVERY, OR PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS. BY MRS. C. H. BUTLER. (See Engraving.) KATE CARLETON was something of a coquette, and her lover, Frank Ingleby, very jealous, which, of course, he had no good reason to be, for he knew perfectly well that there was no one so dear to the heart of Kate as he was himself, and that although she walked with one, rode with a second, danced with a third, and chatted like a little magpie with all the beaux of the village, yet, after all, when her eye met his, it was with a loving glance-such as she bestowed on no one else-and with a smile reserved for him alone. No, he had no right to be jealous; but as he was so, he should have kept it to himself, and not been continually upbraiding poor Kate, until he had the cruel satisfaction of bringing tears into those beautiful eyes. For, to do her justice, she had no intention of being a coquette. She was a sprightly, good-tempered little soul, and it was as natural for her to do all she could to make people happy around her, as it is for a bird to sing in the spring-time. Yet sometimes when she least expected it, when, in the innocency of her heart, she was laughing and chatting with careless freedom, to make the moments pass pleasantly, to some chance visiter from village beau-dom-she would, all of a sudden, find Frank's eyes darting anger and reproach into her very heart. And then there was always sure to be a scene, as the French say. Frank would upbraid - Kate would smile sweetly, and try to reason the idea of such a thing, reason with a jealous manwell Kate was young! Then Frank would work himself quite into a passion, and call her a flirt at which Kate would pout, while her little foot beat time to the throbbings of her heart-still Frank would persist in his reproaches, and then Kate would begin to weep, which was sure to bring Frank plump down on his knees! Ah, now it was Kate's turn to rule! sitting up so dignified, with her little head turned scornfully on one side, while Frank begged like a sinner, as he was, for forgiveness. No-she would not forgive him-not she indeed -he was very cruel-of all things she despised jealousy-she had given him no reason to say what he had! And Frank confessed it, and swore he would never be so unjust again, if she would only forgive him this once-just this once. But no; Kate declared she would never, never, nev-. Ah did you hear that? it was only the adverb cut in two by two lips! It was one of those beautiful evenings which seem made for lovers only, that Frank and Kate were strolling through the vine-trellised portico surrounding the pleasant little cottage of Mr. Carleton. It was in the rosy month of June, and the fragrance of sweet blossoms seemed floating on the gentle evening breeze, and on the rippling stream which ran softly murmuring at the foot of the terrace. The stars looked out brightly from their azure depths. Mars cast his most beaming smile upon the gentle Venus, and all the little stars twinkled their bright eyes roguishly. As for the moon, she was too busy in her own reflections, to heed the wooing of celestial or terrestrial lovers. Kate, looking up very bewitchingly in the face of Frank, said: "Now promise me, Frank, that when we are married, you will never be jealous again; for you must know that this unfortunate infirmity of yours sometimes makes me fear for our future happiness.” "No, my sweet girl, I cannot doubt you then;" exclaimed Frank; "you will be my own, my own dear wife, Kate, and never again, I promise you, shall my foolish jealousy cause you regret." "Ah, it is so mean to be jealous, now is not Frank? it is so unworthy a generous heart; it betrays such a want of confidence in the one you love! Really, Frank, I have been more than once tempted to resign you to some one whom you could put more faith in." The stars winked at this. "Why, Kate, dear Kate, is it possible! and yet you have borne my folly so like an angel. I should be a wretch indeed if I ever doubted you again!" cried Frank. "If I did not believe you-if I thought that after we were married, Frank, you would still conjure up your jealous fears, I should be perfectly wretched!" and the tears stood in the THE DISCOVERY. fine eyes of Kate as she spoke, which, that they might not be lost, Frank prudently kissed away. Earth, air, and sky, united to bless the bridal day; and on a bright beautiful morning, when the leaves danced to the merry song of the birds, Frank and Kate were married, and bidding adieu to the dear old family rooftree, took up their abode in a pretty little cottage, nestling like a dove-cot, "Down in a dale, Far from resort of people," and all hemmed in by shady trees, "In which the birds sang many a lovely lay Ah, what harmony within the dove-cot! What peace! what felicity! Had Frank a hundred eyes he would have failed to discover any fault in Kate, and not all the microscopes in the world could have betrayed a single flaw in Frank. And then such perfect unanimity of opinion. Why, if, like Petruchio, Frank had declared the sun to be the moon, Kate, though not the vixen Kate of Padua, would have sworn the same. They "discoursed sweet music," too, for Kate sang like an angel; and if ever angel played the flute, then Frank had certainly got the knack of it, and although music is said to be the food of love, our happy pair pretended to till a little garden where less ethereal viands might be found; the little flower plat, Kate took under her more especial care, but its roses were no brighter than her cheeks, nor the violet bluer than her eyes. Now, in the second honeymoon there came a letter to Kate from a young friend and schoolmate, announcing her intention of passing a few weeks with the new married pair. Kate really loved Sue, that is, she spared her just as much as she could from Frank, you know, yet she almost dreaded the interruption to the charmed life she was leading; and as for Frank, he was so much disturbed at the idea of a third party in love's tête-à-tête, that he was ungallant enough to consign this young lady over to a certain gentleman unmentiona ble. In due time, Susan May arrived, the very personification of fun and mischief; a round, merry face, large black eyes, which seemed to have caught their inspiration from the goddess of Mirth herself, red, pouting lips, and a little nose-ah! excuse me-the nose, to be sure, is a very striking feature, but has never been immortalized by the poet, I believe; and, therefore, I will only say of Sue's nose that it 93 turned up a little, just a very little, and seemed a very arch, knowing nose. Frank and Kate received their visiter as if they were truly delighted to see her, and really undertook to be very agreeable. As she was a stranger, of course it was incumbent upon them to invite other guests into their dove-cot solely for her amusement, and to say the truth, Susan would else soon have tired of the cooing of these tender pigeons. And now a little cloud, a mere speck, "no bigger than a man's hand," arose on Love's horizon. Kate was just as bewitching as ever to her old admirers; it seemed so natural to hear her sweet voice again in the songs she used to sing them, so pleasant to hear her merry ringing laugh, that all paid her the tribute of their gratitude for thus reviving old associations, by bringing her books, flowers, or music, and then, as Susan's captivating charms, and her versatile powers of pleasing broke more fully upon them, it followed that the little cottage became quite a scene of gaiety, and Kate, never once dreaming that she was arousing the "green-eyed monster," whose approach she had so much dreaded, welcomed and entertained their several guests with her usual sprightly tone and artless manners, yet always happier when she could steal a few moments alone with Frank. She was one evening singing a merry little song, in which Sue and several of the company joined the chorus, and quite a little knot of listeners were gathered about the piano. Kate played and sang with more than her usual spirit, and as the theme of the song was the misery of a bachelor's life, she archly addressed it, with her laughing eye, and a nod of her head to one of the gentlemen present. A general laugh marked the applause of her well-aimed jest. Kate sprang up gaily; as she did so, she saw Frank leaning moodily against the mantel-piece, and ah! the plaguespot was on his brow! Poor Kate, she saw it at a glance, and the tears came flooding up from her innocent heart. "We have been so happy-but it is all over now!" she mentally exclaimed with a deepdrawn sigh, then quickly forcing a smile, she joined Frank, and linking her arm within his, tried to win him to himself again. Frank had something in his throat to say to Kate the next morning before he went out; he had been trying for a long time to utter it, but he could only hem, and choke, like a frog with the whooping-cough. At last, with a desperate effort: "I really think, Kate, that for a married woman, you indulge in a little too much levity; I wish you would be more dignified." Kate had not once thought about the dignity |