SUPPLEMENT TO THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR.

THE DREAM-MAIDEN.

By John Blackmajs'. I

Peter Popkins was one of my earliest com" panions. We had known each other from boyhood, and indulged in dreams peculiar to country-boys, which have not been realised in actual life. Crome is a pretty English vil lage with its old Norman church, its water mill, and daisy-sheeted green, where we spoited on the quiet evenings of summer. We quitted Crome within two years of each other for the metropolis, not literally be lieving that London streets are paved with gold, but with vague notions that it was a very grand place, where we might find op. portunities of improving our condition and of becoming famous— perhaps wealthy, like "WMttington and other men of whom we had read in pictured story-books. Again we read of Crnsoe's adventures, and dreamed of distant islands in the Pacific Ocean and of Australasian goldfields ; then we would be come great travellers like Mungo Park, write big books, and tell of adventures be yond the sees. Popkins was a fair scholar with other advantages which I did not pos sess, and . through the commercial inflnence of his dead father's friend, John Hartley, a member of the Society of Friends, whose counting-house was in Threadneedle setreet, he succeeded to a clerkship in Fri day-street, near the spot where the poet Milton was bom. Prospects looked bright for several years until plain John Hartley, merchant, died. A shadow then crossed my friend's path, which might appropriately have been termed the shadow of death, and which impeded his progress for a considerable time. We frequently met at each other's lodgings, and alternately talked of religion, politics, literature, and love, Popkins always avowing that he would never marry under a hundred a year. There is nothing more agreeable to the feelings amid the busy soli tude of a large city than the conversation of an old friend from the same country settle" ment with whom you can pleasantly talk over old subjects, and recall as it were old faces from the dead. In this innocent "wsiY Popkins and I passed many a pleasant even ing together, chatting of Crome and its rustic associations. Popkins occupied apartments in Walnut Tree Walk, Lambeth, whilst I .lodged in Methley-atreet, Kennington Park, i My friend's lodgings were in a compact two storied house, sufficiently and conveniently remote from vocal intercourse with the great world to satisfy a modest bachelor, save the occasional unmusical sound of a street-organ, turned by a grinning, dancing Italian—a kind of music with which Popkins evinced no partiality. It was pleasant to visit Pop tins in his quiet retreat on a Sunday evening after service, when all round was still, and when we. could indulge in our poetic fancies. My friend'sjandlady, Mrs Goodenough, was a fine, generous woman, but somewhat pe culiar in her habits and opinions, and was fond of dogmatically expressing them, in a voice and manner that denoted her sincerity. Bad dress-impi overs and deceptive head dresses been introduced in her time, I feej me that the venerable lady would have. died suddenly of a nervous shock. She wore dresses of scanty shape, and a small bordered cap, exceedingly neat, which the committee of the Princes-street Museum would gladly have accepted as illustrations of the days of Elizabeth Fry and Hannah More. She was naturally kind-hearted, and evidently did all in her power to make Popkins comfortable, and thought nothing of a little trouble bes towed upon a profitable subject—indeed the old lady always seemed in her happiest mood when exerting herself for the benefit of others. " Poor Popkins !" she v c pathetically to exclaim, " has neither n o her nor wife, and therefore I feel it my duty to ■■". to his shir^ buttons and darn his stockii %s." Her li brary consisted of two books onjy, and which Bhe would never allow to be carried out of the house ; these were the family Bible and the Newgate Calendar, and I believe she prized one almost as highly as the other, but ■with this difference—the former waa her Sunday-book and the latter her week-eve companion. She was fully convinced that Dick Turpin was as great a hero as Napoleon. They were both plucky fellows, and worthy of European regard. Her daintiest table cloth, her figured window curtains (white as snow), and her choicest china (a wedding present) were also at the service of Popkin when he had company, for she had unlimited confidence in her young man lodger. Popkins had now been in London several years, but knew little of actual London life beyond his accustomed walk, and the generaj routine of office business. He was of are tiring disposition, very modest in his de^ meaaour, and seldom smiled, except when a pretty girl crossed his path. He lived much alone, not caring much even for the rapid talk of Ms thoughtful bnt loqnacious landlady. He Was fond of the old poets, and sometimes would venture to recite a few verses from, one of his favorites, but failed in winning the dame's approbation. " All very fine she would say, "but not half bo interesting as r the adventures of Mr Jonathan Wild." One ■evening. I called upon Popkins and found "(^unusually gloomy, and wondered what could be its secret cause. | " Popkins," said I, " what's the matter ?" IJnt^PopHns only sighed; I felt the more •Mprised because he was generally of a joy ens •"■ give / ely expressions. ) ;abl4ute?^s|bae " Anatomy of

Melancholy," was open on the:table beside him. "Ah," I remarked, "you have caught Dr Johnson's hypochoudria, or you have fallen in love." Popkins shrugged his shoulders at the la,st remark which aroused my suspicions. " No," he rejoined, " I have not got the necessary income—the hundred a year. I think I sh#U go to New Zealand where for tunes are readily made, and financial errors wSI be eaten up by the Maoris if you go there.. " Ho matter," he said, " if I stay at home I shall be cooked." His landlady entered, good motherly soul, and fearing that [Mr Popkins waa out of health, began to talk of arrowroot and gruel with a dash of rum in it and other nice cor dials, but Popkins would have none of them: his ailment was of the mind. "What is the matter, Popkins," I en quired. " Oh, notfaicg, Kothing," he replied. I expressed my belief that something, serious had happened, perhaps a death in the family. " No, no," said Popkins, " I had a dream last night which, has affected me, it seemed so real." '• Only a dream," I continued, "heed not dream?, dogs dream, they are but vagaries of a restless mind, shapeless, unreal, unmis takeable signs of indigestion — 'Wo are such stuff As dreams are made of and on* little life Is rounded with a sleep.'" "So wrote the great poet of humanity," rejoined Popkins, " but some dreams exert a wonderful influence over the dreamers, and become living realities." "Do not give way to fancy, friend," said I, " or there is no knowing to what absurd lengths you may go. You may dream that you have inherited a large for tune, and instead of being a millionaire you may wake up some cold morning and still find yourself a struggling clerk, existing en a clerk's miserable weekly pittance of a guinea. But tell me of your unhappy dream;" Popkins sighed agaiD, and said something about a hundred a year which I could not distinctly understand. " Bat what of the dream ; yeu know I am your friend ; you know the old adage open confession is good for the soul." §§" If I confide the secret to you say, nothing of the matter to any living soul," said Pop kins." 1 promised secrecy, and Popkins sat up right in his chair as a darfc and said— "I thought I was in a strange locality, among scenes very different fco those upon which I have been ac customed to look, either in the London parks or sunny Crome. I was somewhere by the sea-side, among the ferny rocks and dark hanging woods, like unto the beautfiul scenery of Devon, where I could hear the songs of the summer birds and the dashing of the waves upon the shore. The sky was blue with scarcely a cloud to intercept the view, when I saw distinctly the form of a beantifsil girl with two of the finest eyes that ever grased a human form. Those eyes were full of diviae expression, so like what aßs*l» f eyes sxa represented to be, but of wkjt«ji w» of the earth can have no adequate hea^tad^ i*Ba. M n Sfc»,p, Pop&ins," I exclaimed, " are you re»lly bkoc, or have you been reading Ivan hod or David Cepperfield, and dreaming of Rebecca or Agnes." "I cannot stop," rejoined Popkins, "Jam not mad, but yeu must listen.". "And what about the hundred a year," I said. " Money had no connection with my sweet dream," roared the visionary. "I was en* tranced with the beautiful form before me, and felt an irresistable desire to approach the ideal of my highest conception of female loveliness as she stood with her eyes upon me— lake Prospering gathering flowers, Herself a fairer flower; Or, Ruth among the alien corn. "And did you succeed, my dear Pop kins ?" I said sympathetically. "No, no," said he, "I made the attempt and fell prostrate to the floor, and upon waking found that I had rolled out of bed ; but the beautiful picture had passed—it waß only a dream, only a dream. A feeling of cold disappointment passed through me t like the shiver that portends a fever, while the clear stars looked bright from the silent sky through the frost-figured panes on my bed room window as the clock struck three. I was brought to my feet by the shrill voice of my landlady, who screamed out at the top of herroice, 'Popkins, Popkins, there are burglars in the house !' "' "What did you take fer sapper, my friend," I said, and took his hand tenderly; " Beefsteak and onions," he shouted. ", That the stuff," I continued, "of which dreams are made of. Eat no suppers, Pop kias, and no dreams will disturb your slum bers. The beautiful dream-maiden was the half-pound of steak, and those bright eyes were simply two ordinary onions. Popkins replied with some warmth, aid repudiated the idea that so divine a creature could proceed from such common sources, a nd avowed his belief that the maiden of hia dream was a being of flesh and blood, that she would become the companion of his eventag walks, and the ■•lace of bis solitary

home, I hoped that she might, and that I

might wish him joy on the auspicious event in tJjo possession not only of his dream maiden, but of one hundred a year

Popkins was silent and made no reply, but relapsed into a dreamy reverie. I tried to rouse him, and read one of Hannaford's Dartmouth poems, on the "folly of love,' but could not drive the fear and superstition out of his thoughts. I pointed out to him that although love was a prolific theme for bache lor poets, such as Thomson, Cowper, and Kirke White to sing about, but that love, unassociated with domestic activities, was of little use in this practical, hard world of ours. Without the useful the beautiful was not available for the true embellishment of home. Fven Burns, who was the poet of love, was at last compelled to say—

Talk not of love, it gives me pain, For love hatli been my foe ; He. bound ■with an iron chain, And plunged me deep in woe.

Still the drsam haunted Popkins, the bright eyes were still upon him, and the form of the maiden became the invisible com panion of his daily life.

The Summer passed, the tranquil reign of yellow-leaved 4utumn commenced, and fre quently in his journeyings, to and fro 3 Pop kins met a young lady jxodestly attired in half mourning. Her walk in Übe Borough was as regular as the hands of the Welling ton clock,—always at a certain place, at a certain hour. There was the very lookj the unassuming air, the simple attire, and the intelligent eyes. Could this young pt-reon be the substance of the shadow of his strange dream ? The eyes, the form, and the pensive beauty of the dream-maiden were all there, but the rocks, and the woods, and the sur rounding sea were wanting to make the pic ture complete. These, however, were but the outline which busy imagination might fill up. The central figure, the human soul were there independent of locality. They met almost daily, and if Popkins missed the peerless maiden a sense of keen disappoint ment overshadowed him for the day. In order not to keep the reader in suspense, I may briefly state in logical order that the lifting of the hat, the fmile, the word, and the "good morning " duly took place. Ihe ice, in ordinary parlance, was broken, and the solemn busiuess of courtship commenced in real earnest in the presence of the faithful moon, who whispers no earthly love-tales within the hearing of mortal ears. Bertha Jones (she could not help it) was the name of the lass, who was the daughter of a balf pay officer who had fought in India, but had since died in humble circumstances, and Berfcha and her mother were obliged to work for bread. A painter of some note had en gaged Bertha, with the consent of her mo ther, to attend at his studio, and sit for a picture upon which he was then engaged with a view of exhibiting in the Koyal Academy of Art. It was dming those sittings that the lovers met. Tho painter has since succeeded in winning a name among English ?nd foreign artists. However ingenious the artist may be in hia profession he always finds it neces sary to study the works of the divine aitist, and go to nature for hia truest models. The painter had seen the pale, beautiful face of Bertha at her mother's cottage in. Kenning ton, and her features impressed upon his canvass repaid his mental labours with per fect success. Some time after Popkins whispered in my ear, as we sat together in a city coffee-house, —"Will you come to the wedding ?"

"What !" I said, "have you got an ad vance of salary, Popkins. A hundred a year, eh?"

" No," shouted Popkins, "I cannot wait for that! Love is not altogether a matter of pounds, shillings, and pence. A good wife is worth her weight in gold."

I made no answer to Popkins. What could I say in the face of such common sense phil osophy ? I saw clearly that he had made up Ms mind for matrimony. I have little more to add to this remarkable story, which Mrs Crowe intends including in her new book on " Dreams and their Realization," which will form a sequel to her "Night side of Nature."

Popkins and Bertha were religiously mar ried, and occupy a pretty cottage on Camber well Green. The dream of young love is over, and Popkins has found the dream maiden much to the annoyance of Mrs Goodenough, who still lives in Walnut Tree Walk, for she has lost her young man lodger, and feels that she shall never find another lodger like dear Peter Popkins, he was so regular and so amiable. The last time I saw Peter, previous to crossing the ocean for Auckland, he appeared quite happy in the marriage state, and was deep in an elaborate treatise on " Mental and Moral Science," while gentle Bertha, with little Popkius on her left arm, was knitting a pair of winter stockings for her devbted husband.

THE LAST SERENADE.

He sat upon an oaken stump. His fiddle in his hand, And gazed upon the window-sill, Xo see her small white hand T*iat rested there so lovingly— It made bis great heart stand. He murmured, " My Mary love I Art thinking, sweet, of me?_ Would I bad wings, now as a bird- Like a little bird so free— t : I'd fly up to thy window, love, .. And sing a song to thee." - He placed his fiddle 'neath his chin, ' And straightened up to play; And " Mollie Barling" was the song— But not upon that day Was heard along those bottom lands That sweet, affecting lay. He heard the window slowly raise : His bow he gently prest, And then looked up to catch her smile, And watch her heaving bieast, ■ ~ When— splash I—went water on bis fact, And on his Sunday best. She gazed awhile, and heard a sigh, Then slowly went below, And smote her breast, and faltered out, " Alas 1 I didn't know 1" All that was left of that serenade Was a lonesome fiddle-bow. He never came to sing again To please Squire Ashton's daughter, He staid at home and fiddled not Until he had forgot her; And thus the romauce of his life Was ended by cold water. — Lewvenworth Times.

TALES OF THE GOLD FIELDS.

By Joe Fernroot.

YANKEE BILL'S GOLDEN HOUSE,

When- Yankee Bill and his two mates—Tom Leader and Jack Stringer—started on their fossicking expedition, they little thought that they would rival that illustrious Prince, Aladdin, and prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that, fact is often as strange, if not stranger, than fiction, by themselves living in a goldan house, constructed by the un romantic hands of Yankee Bill, but so it was, and this is how it all came to pass.

The second evening after V ankee Bill and his two mates started, with their tent, tools, and tucker from Punga Flat, old Sol, with solemn grandeur flashed its brilliant rays over the mountains and gullies of the Thames. Before wishing this side of the globe good night, and amongst other places that came in for a share of the setting sun's warmed friendship, was a small gulley, situ ated in the heart of the ranges some few miles inland from Grahamstown, But it was a haul matter for the sun to get at certain parts of the gully, for ife was rather deep,and giant kauries, aided and abetted by a dense army of other forest trees and bushes, had made up their minds to keep the sun away altogether, if possible, but they could not manage it quite, for on this particular eveningfa flood of light danced and quivered through the forest leaves and branches, tinging the gigantic trunks of the kauris with a crimson hue, and shone' fair on the faces of three miners, who were seated

round a fire outside of a small square calico tent, that was pitched at the bottom of the gully. Lord ! how lively the sun seemed that evening—how it twinkled and glistened through the leaves and branches as if quite delighted at having discovered Yankee Bill and his two mates, whose eyes blinked again in the sunlight—but it was only for a short spell—as it Boon dipped behind a neighbouring ridge, and was off to take down the shutters of the Old World, and herald forth another day. Twilight is of short duration in these climes, co the small gully, with its kauri trees and miners camp, was soon enveloped in a gloomy shroud—pierced only by the blight coruscations from the mineis fire, upon which more wood was piled till it crackled again, shooting up glaring flames, that threw a lurid light for yards around; conjuring Tip all sorts of weird formß and shapes, that seemed to dance in and out of the dense black bush, and amongst the quartz boulders that lay in the gurgling cieek at their feet.

" If," said Yankee Bill, throwing the remains of his tea out of his tin pannikin, "If there ain't gold in some of theße 'ere gulches, why I guess I ain't a Yankee, and never seed a diggings afore not away in Californy, or Victoria, or West Coast, or anywhere else. I reckon its about fifteen year since I was sluicing in just such another spot as heieabouts. 'Twas in Nevada I was. Lord, boys, that were diggings. Yu kood see the gold sticking out a foot. Nightmare gulch, 'twere korld," and Yankee [Bi relapsed into silence, and pierced into the red embers of the fire, as if lost in remem brance of the nuggets that he had seen sticking out a foot.

" Bather a rum name," wasn't it, sug gested Tom Leader, at which Yankee Bill only shook his head, and {muttered as if to himself, " Night-mare gulch t'were korld."

" I suppose some feller had a nightmare dream, and so found out where to look for the gold, eh, Bill," said Tom Leader.

" Well, boys, some feller did have, a nightmare dream, and that's why the gulch was called Nightmare ; and that feller that had the nightmare were a pardner of mine —but he did not find enny gold threw it; not much he didn't; but when he kern out of his nightmare dream, he diskivered some thing else." " What was that ?" asked Tom Leader and Jack Stringer in one voice. " .'-. " Why, he diskivercd that he had shot one of his pardners. Yer see, this feller that had the nightmare dream was often took that way, andfused to kick up darndest monkey shines in his sleep you ever seed. We used to shy boots at him. It shut him up at furst, but he got used to 'em at last, and thought nothing of ennytb g but hob nailed 'ens.^They used to w^Ke him up, yu bat. 'Twas one night, a pardner of ours went to the store, some four miles away, and didn't get back to the tent till very late. He no sooner began to take off his coat, it .was moonlight, and he did not strike a match, than the darned cuss, in his nightmare dream ups with his shooter and lets fly at him. The bang of the derringer woke me tip to find our partner stretched bleeding on the ground, and- the nightmare-feller screeching murder. Lord that were a night. It turned out that the nightmare-feller was dreaming that someone was coming in the tent to stick us up, and I reckon we had a few dollars' woith of gold handy. He was iv his monkey shines at the time, and his mate just then coming into the tent and taking off his coat, th« tarnation skunk jerked ont Ms dsninger from under his pillow and let driv«, and that's why they called it nightmare, Gulch." "Did the nightmare-feller ikoot him dead, BUI." I ; * " Wall, I reckon he did, for his partner never never spoke again; the ball went straight through brain, and now I reckon ise gwynne to tv» in," and Yankee Bill stood up and went down'on all fionn, and disappeared into

the calico tent, followed silently by his two mates—Tom Leader and Jack Stringer.

'Tis said that uneasy lies the head that wears a crown —perhaps so ; but Yankee Bill and his two mates were not troubled with crowns—royal or monetary, so their slumber was the reverse from uneasy, as anyone might have judged by the deep sonorous sounds of breathing that soon was heard issuing from the interior of the tent. After a while, the fire burned down to a dull red, and now the silence, the deep intense silence of a calm, dark night reigned around, and not quite still though—for the little creek gurgles and purles past the miners' tent, whilst the musical, rushing sound of a dis tant waterfall occasionally rises on the night aia. But hark ! shrill, clear, and treble, there's no mistaking that sound familiar to all New Zealand colonists. It is the '* More Pork," the New owl that breaks the quiet of night with its ecreech, which is echoed back in the ranges and ever and anon answered by some btother more pork far away down the creek.

The Bell bird, New Zealand's celebrated songster is now, forsomereason not satisfactor ily accounted for, a rara avis in terra. The tra veller through the bush now-a-days is sel dom if ever cheered by the melodious tinkling that once used to be the glory of New Zea land forests. Some wiseacres say tbat the wild cats have driven them away, others that the climate is getting colder than it used to be and the natives when questioned upon the subject, grandly shake their heads, and say that they don't know. One thing is certain —they have disappeared and left to the tui the undisputed honour of proclaiming the dawn of day, and so it happened that the tuis residing in the immediate locality of the small gully in which Yankee Bill and his two companions had camped, \*ere startled one early morning by hearing a strange and, to them, unknown sound. It was a dull, thudding kind of noise, so the more curious of the tuia summoned up courage, and flew away to the spot from whence the strange noise proceeded—determined to unravel the mystery, which waß however easily explained when they with their little bright eyes saw a man recking a miner's cradle, and two other men picking and shovelling gravel into it. It was Yankee Bill and his two mates, who were on payable creek gold, that is loose

gold washed from the reefs into the creeks. Although the Thames goldfields cannot be looked upon as an alluvial one, yet it not unfrequcntly happened that a great many ounces gold were procured from the differ ent creeks by]the aid of a cradle the same as on an alluvial diggings, and it is the opinion, of .many experienced rninera that many creeks would pay good wages if worked in a systematic manner on the Califoinian ground-sluicing piinciple with the hydraulio hose and quicksilver plates. But, however that may be, good payable prospects were obtained by Yankee Bill and his two mates, who followed the gold up till it brought them to a miniature waterfall which trickled down the face of a sandstone cliff about 14 feet in height, on the top of which the creek again trended. Past the waterfall no gold could be found. Dish after dish was care fully passed off, but with no resulb. Now an inexperienced miner in such a case would most likely have given up in despair, and gone elsewhere when no more gold could be found in the crack, but not so with Yankee Bill and his two mates. With them it was rather a hopeful sign than otherwise for it told them that_V they were 'in the immediate vicinity of the reef from which the gold they ■had obtained in the creek had come, so they set to work cutting a face on each side of the creek, and trenching here and there, but no thing came of it until the third day, when Jack Stringer discovered beneath the moss that was growing over the face of the water fall a small quartz reef that ran up and down the cliff. A lend and long cooee from Jack Stringer quickly drew to the spot Yankee Bill and Tom Leader who were in the vicinity. A dishful of the quartz was soon picked down, and the three miners in a state of excitement, only felt by gold-diggers under similar circumstances, awaited the re sult of the washing. The reef was a brown mullocky one, and it was some little time before the quartz stones could be sufficiently cleaned to ascertain their value. What a long time it seemed to get the dirt off. How the brown clay-like mullock would stick to the quartz out of sheer spite, it seemed, at last the quartz presented a clear surface, the dish was placed on the ground, and the three men knelt round it peered into it, then with' a loud cry Yankee Bill held aloof a small quartz stone richly impregnated with gold, then 'Jack Stringer discovered one, and Tom Leader fished one out, then several more- ware discovered more or less rich. The quartz stones were then taken out of the dish and placed on one side, while the important operations of pan ning off the mullock was gone through, a rather tedious operation, and requiring some skill, but Yankee Bill was equal to the emergency, and when after all the dirb was carefully was washed little by little, there remained two or three grains of fine gold at the bottom. Yankee Bill could contain himself no longer, but burst out in his own Yankee way, " Thar boys, I knoVd it, those ere gulches don't tell no lies."

There was joy that night in calico tent pitched in the little gully. * . ,

Silence. Golden silence as it is often truly termed was especially so in the case of Yankee Bill and his two mates. To a gold digger silence is very often as necessary for success as in any other pursuit of life. How many fortunes hare been lost through a mate splitting, 'or the solitary prospector divul ging his luck too Boon, and so having the golden cup "already at his lips snatched ruthlessly away. The three miners in the little gully kept their find secret, and by so doing they were enabled in the first place to obtain the loose gold from the creek and

afterwards to possess what lad every appear ance of turning out to be a rich mine ; but nobody as yet knew anything about it but themselves, and the tuis, who although much given to carrying ta(i)l's, might be re lied upon in this case, and so Yankee Bill and his two mates Fet cheerily to work lo break down the quartz reef that opened out a small drive .and followed it for some ten feet, and it still yielded golden ore. Lots of profit able work in store,now-; heapa.of itfor months to come — perhaps for years ; —who can tell; any amount of preliminary work to to be done before opening the mine. There were big trees to be felled, and then split into timber for the drive ; so whilst Tom Leader and Jack Stringer went at the timber, Yankee Bill built a more substantial dwel ling than the little cabin tent; there were heaps of quartz boulders in and about the creek, and plenty of clay handy, so Yankee Bill built up the sides of a house with the quartz stones, about four feet high, and when this was thatched with nikau, a more wind and water-tight little shanty it would have been difficult to find. The reef that Yankee Bill and his mates had discovered was what is called a specimen leader or small reef about six inches wide, and shewing specimens of gold in most of the quartz. To work this reef successfully they bought the ironwork for a stamper and box, and also a berdau, which with great difficulty and a small horse they managed to convey to their mine; and when this great end had been accomplished a water-wheel had to be made, and a dam built in the creek to collect the water for turning the wheel, so that before all this was finished months had passed away. And did nobody find them out all this time except the tuis ? Yes, they were found out for one fine day, whilst Jack Stringer was wheeling out a barrow load of quartz, he espied on the top of the ridge right over him, a strange figure in a blue jumper, moleskin pants, and top boots, gazing intently down upon him, and when Jack Stringer shouted out, "Hi, halloa there I" the figure answered not, but disappeared into the bush, and was seen no more that day; but on the following days several figures appeared bolder than the first, for they came down to the mine, examined the quartz, asked to be shewn the corner pegs, and then to look at their miners' rights, which being all correct, the figures dispersed. Chopping sounds were heard, and pegs were driven in all round as fresh claims were marked out. A rush had set in to the little gully in the ranges. It has long passed the midhour of night, and silence reigns over the .camp in the little gully. iNow and again a light glimmers for an instant in one or other of the calico tents, with which the little creek is now lined. It is some sleepless miner wliq strikes a match to light his pipe. The occupants of the quartz-house are rest- j less in their sleep; they turn and twist j about and mutter in their dreams. They | had'retorted.their first lot of amalgam from their new one-stamper battery, and the result was a gleaming bar of yellow gold, weighing over lOOoza. It is in their house, stowed into a hole, and covered with earth, where it lies unconscious and yet able to disturb its owners in their sleep. Yankee Bill gives a sudden start —turns over—turns back again ; opens his eyes, and stretches out his arms ; then reaches to a small shelf, from which he takes a 'match-box, abstracts a match, strikes it against the wall, and lights a candle ; then he crawls quietly out of his bunk and goes to -where the bar of gold is deposited. It is safe ; so he turns in again, lights his pipe, smokes, and thinks cf the bar of gold—how much it is worth, and how many more bars of gold there are like it yet to be taken out of the mine. And all this while he is thinking, his eyes are fixed on a projecting piece of quartz that breaks out from the surface cf the wall. The light from the candle falls directly oh it and something on its surface, just a small speck seems to sparkle, perhaps mundic or crystal, so Yankee Bill thinks as it gleams in his" eyes, but still his gaze seems rivetted upon that little sparkle ; at length he sits up in his bunk and' bends over to the piece of quartz with the sparkle just to satisfy him self, he takes the candle and holds it close to the \ spot; he keeps it there for at least a, minute then Teaches his sheath knife from his belt and tries to scrape the yellow sparkle, then Yankee Bill gave a low long whistle, and commenced scraping the dirt from other parts of the quartz, till at last another little sparkle pseped out, this time he gave a chuckle, only intended to be heard by himself, but it was loud enough to cause Jack Stringer to rub his eyes and ask what was up. "Wall nothin' much 1 guess,'1 j answered Yankee Bill," only I reckon yere kivered orl over with gold," and then he gave another chuckle a little louder this time so that Tom Leader started up in a great j fright thinking that somebody had taken j their bar of gold, but he was pleasantly de- ' ceived, and then it was of no use thinking of more, sleep that night, so two more candles were lit, and it was a sight to be remem- ! bered to have seen how diligently Yankee Bill and his two mates went down on their j knees and scraped the dirfc off the quartz wall of their hut until the first faint i streaks of .morning light in the far.' off East, bid the tuis commence their morning song,,and when at last their eyes ached"again \ looking for fresh yellow sparkles which they discovered on many of the quartz stones they gave it up, but not before acknowledging the fact that Yankee Bill had unconsciously built them a golden' house, for'the little : yellow sparkle that first attracted his attention, was no more nor less than a blotch of gold in the quartz. It is needless to say that' the golden house was not allowed to remain standing very long, but was orusheS, and yielded oTer.sooz. of gold, which as Jack Stringer said, if it had been beatenout. thin, enough would have covered not only the flbor and walls, but also the roof, ' Yankee Bill and his two mates did well with, their mine. Their one stamper battery '*'

soon increased to* five starepere, and they k<pfc on crufhing and turning out fixm their retcrt bars of gold for over a year, when,. tbey sold the mine right out, and walked away worth a good twenty thousand a man. The fpeculators who bought the mine' formed it into a company, when strange to '• say, as in many other cases when a niine has been formed into a Company, the bars of gold could no loDger be extracted" as of yore, but. they certainly grew fewer'S and fewer until at last there were none at all. Then they commenced to sink deep, but with no success, for the deeper they went the less gold there seemed to be. One enter- 3 prising shareholder wanted te keep sinking .. until they came out at the other side of the globe, somewhere about London Bridge or. the Monument, but the resolution was , perhaps fortunately not carried, so at last the company went the way of most com pany's, and was wound up, not to makeiti:! keep goiDg, but to stop it from going any. longer. Yankee Bill sports on Mb finger a-i massive gold xiog, in which ia set apicee of '• goldeii quartz. Ask him where it came, i. frcftn and you will most likely be informed that it kirn out of his Golden House.

A MARRIAGE ON SPECULA TION.

The French entered Amsterdam the 20fch of . January, 1815. The soldiers stacked their I arms on the pavement, and waited anxiously-, for their billets for quarters. Despite the severity of the weather, the '*} citizens turned but in large numbers to wel-i come and admire the veteracs in" their rags<- ; - ; There was general rejoicing throughout the city, which for the most part was illuminated. At the extreme end of the town there was a ' single house, whose dark, forbidding aspect was in strong contrast to the brilliant appear ance of the neighbouring buildings. It was the residence of the merchant; Meistef ' Woerden. He was completely absorbed in ~ commercial operations, and.neither knew nor ' cared to know what was going on in/, the' i political world ; and then he was too familiar | with the rules of economy to think of squan- ,*:), deling candles on an illumination. , /, ' At this moment, when all was joy and enthusiasm throughout Amsterdam,. Meister " Woerden sat quietly in his, big arm-chair ■ beside the fire.. On the table there was a little brass lamp, a mug of beer and a big clay pipe. On the other side of the fire sat an old maid servant, whose rotuneity be- " trayed her Flemish origin. She was occupied in shoving back the coals that had fallen out on the hearth, when there came a loud knock at the street door. , ... " Whp can that be? Go and see," said the old merchant to the maid, who had risen to: her feet. . ~.-, A few moments later a stalwart young# man entered the room. He threw off.his ' mantle and approached the fire. "Good evening father," said he. " How ? Is. it you, William ?. I did not expect you back so soon." " I left Broeck this morning, but the J reads have been made so bad by the army trains that we have been the whole day on the way," ■ " Well, did you see Van Elburg ?>', "Yes," eaid the young man, seating himself before the fire ; Meister Van Elburg consents to the marriage, but he adheres to his determination to give his daughter a dowry of only four thousand ducats." ; "Well, then, he may keep his daughter and his dowry," replied Woerden, with, ft frown. .« • father-,'.' " Not a word, my son! At your age we have more sense than to sacrifice everything for love, and to despise riches," " But Herr Van Elburg is the richest merchant in Holland, and what he doas not give now will be oursjat his death.": "Nonsense," replied Meister Woerden.^ "Am I too, not sick ? Listen, my soo. You will soon follow jne?in my business. I Never forget"; these two rules :—Never', give more than you receive, and, never further another man's interest to the detriment of your own. Guided by these principles one will better his 'condition in marriage as well as in trade." . , : . ; , ' " But,-father-" ' '• Not another word, my son—not another word !". ." ~.-• .. _. -, v - ( -' William knew his father too well to say any more, but he could not avoid: evincing his displeasure by his manner.- To this, however, the old man paid no attention; he calmly filled his pipe, lighted it and began'to smoke. Again there was a loud rap fat the street, door, while at the same time: the dogs began to bark. - -V r . .„ ■ ~ . >. : . ■ :■■.:; " Aha 1" said Meisfcer Woerden, " it must ' be a stranger, or the dogs wouldn't1 bark bo. Go and see who it is^ William." ■ The young man went to the>window.' " "It is one of the militia horsemen^" said William.,, ;■■■,■■■ \;:\, -■;■:.■::-,. ■; \\ £% > ■■. "A militia horsemaa ! What can:he want? ■>, ',;,,, • •■ ;_ At this moment the maid servant entered and handed Woerden a letter. He carefully examined the seal. i "From the provisional government," said he. His hand, trembled as he hastily opened the letter and read it, but suddenly the old tradesman's face lighted up with a joyous expression as he cried, ' , , ~ "Good—good T I accept," - .