to analyze my feelings toward th'- im of all this feminine wire-working, bnti sedlwas desperately in love My kind p .at scoidod because my bills for fiuery had become so largo, and Zoe's father was ' quite horrid.' 1 studied to please the taste of my only mascu line friend, and Zee would have things lilce mine, no matter what the consequence She became so interested in the progress of my love affair that she almost entirely forgot her own, aud Henry Thomson's letters were somotimes left unread and were seldom answered. This state of affairs continued for several weeks, when one day I chanced to pick up a loose letter from near the sofa. It read :

My _.'kar Georcjk : I was much amuse:, ovot the account contained in your last letter of your life in Darby, and 1 behove I should be almost jealous of those Darby girl- did I not have tho most unbounded faith in toy lover. But, dear Gcorg «, while I am amused and know that your own heart, will dictate the best course to nursue, I c.n not but f»el sad when 1 think how often women forget to be womanly f tiers followed several paragraphs of very tender sentiment which I will not transcribe ] You ask me now to name -ho day. and to name an oarlv one. Then lot it be Just one month from this date. Your ANNIK

I did not faint, for I was not in the habit of fainting but my strength seemed to ooze out at my fingers' ends, and, weak and limp, I lay down on the sofa. I was not conscious of any o'.hei feeling than one of extreme mortification. Z.e soon came rushing unceremoniously into my room. ' What's the matter;' she exclaimed. ' Are you sick ? How you look 1 Oh, you poor dear !' and she dreuched my face with oau de cologne. ' I _m not Hiok,' I said in a voice so chang ed that Zoe fairly shrieked :

' What is tho matter, then?' ' Read this I lontical dropped it here last evening,' and I pavo her tho letter.

She read it, and let it lall. Then as she pat hor hands over her face, a low wail broke from her lips and the tear., trickled through her fingers. ' Don't feoi so, Zoe, dear. It doesn't hacfc me ; I only feel mortified, and wish I had never seen the creature,' for I thought my good little friend was mourning over ray disappointment. 'Oh, Fannie! don't you know? .Haven'i you suspected it V ' Mispeoted wha. ?' * Oh, I conic1 n't holp thinking more of Identical than I ought, though I didn't at first. I was afraid you would know it and think I was playiug the part of a false friend. I couldn't help it : but, oh, Fannie, I waa true to you all the timo and did all I could for your happiness,' and here Zoo sobbed ontright

I could not repress a lani^h at this sudden change in the aspect of affairs. ' I thought you were in love with Henry Thomson,' I said.

' I thought so, too, once, but he's so little, and not a bit like Identical, It couldn't last long. I've made a fool of myself I know,' and she rushed out of tho room.

I rushed after her, having recovered my strength, and soon brought her back. We talked over the matter coolly and calmly, pointing oat all his shortcomings and fuilings, and after an hour o.* more of ' considering the Hi .nation,' I said :

' Besides the mortification there's the lace and rib'oospa scolded so fearfully about— that wan a clear waste of raw material.'

"That it was" asserted Zoe with emphasis. ' Pa cave mo anitie money this morning and said 1 couldn't have any more for a loug time. Hut how are we going to keep the other eitls from laughing at us ? How they will rejoice ! That will be worse tSan all the rest. I be lieve that I have a greater capacity for trouble than anybody else.'

' I'll mannage that, but I shall never sigh again for an experience. C6me, let us go shoppingi I know thore is no grief a new bonnet can't assuage. Yon know wo were to get those two that we saw that are just alike.'

We made our purchases, and to the insin uatip» remark of the milliner that supposed I would soon be wanting something in white, I uttered an exclamation in blank astouish ment.

' Oh of course you will deny it, but why ia Mr. Smith so attentive ?'

' What Mr. Smith? You'll have to be definite,' I said merrily, 'but if you mean pa's clerk, I am surprised. Everybody in Darby alight to have known before this that he in to marry a young lady of Sutnmcrville. What has Madam Humor been doing that she should have forgotten to publish it ?'

' You don't say '('

' Yes, I happen to know all about it' in a tone that I intended nhor:ll convey the im pression that the BiiVvject was stale and un iuteros'.in;; to me.

The desired effect was produced. Zoe cnught her cue from this and when Smith brought home his bride everybody was pre pared for it, aud Zoo and I were the first to o_.ll up.m her

Tii..t; w:vn long years ago, and I still linvc the letter as a souvenir of the pant, If Zoe suffered from the ' pings of despised love ' she hid it from even me, and frite sent her a great broad-shouldered lawyer the very next year, and sho left Darby forever. Vi\ wanted a younger partner in the business, and found one. Ho was 'agteat, grand, wholo-soulod man,' and I found ray hero, IJis name is—we'l, itdoosn. matter, for to me he is tho Smith of Smiths.

<t seems really like madness to increase the rate of speed on railways yebthereis some talk of so doing, even as if the late calamities were quite unheeded, and contained no warn ing that speed in already overdone. By-the by, what is it people want to get " tiiere " for so quickly—for when "there" ninely niue onn of a huudrod have nothing particu lar to do thru could not be done on the mor row, and rind time to hang on their hands •.bough to gain that idle condition they have risked their lives in undue speed ?

'G _». Expectations.'—Tom (to Jack who had just received a le.ter ) : —Yop look pre cious down, ukl nno! Nothing wrong, is here w.oh the rich old aunt who's been so b„d I hope she's not worse.'—Tack ; —'JST-o o —she., better !'

' What' are you confidence operators ?' paid a gruff Old •fellow Ip two little beggar girls who asked 'for-, aljnS. ■' No, sir,' said the smallest, with charming simplicity, '.no, sir; but we'opes to be.'

Aunt Charlotte's Yarn.

Aunt Ohaelottje said to her giddy young

niece ;-—

'Now, Ida, my dear girl, take my advice, ana don't imperil your own future happiness nor be guilty of injustice by slighting the man to whow you have given your troth, or by foolishly teazing him in order to test.his affection. There is a story in my own memory that I have never told you ; and I could not now bring myself to do so only that I see you don't like me to lecture you, and 1 wish you to learn wisdom by an easier method than that of bitter experience. • When I was a young girl we lived, as you know, in Canada, in one of the small lake-shore towns between Toronto and Kingston. Your grandfather was a man of note in the town, and I was a good deal sought after. I was giddy, too, and selfish, though I did not then consider myself so. I had many admirers and suitors, among whom the one I liked best was Harry Vane. From my very infancy, Harry had been my gallant, and though I sometimes pretended to be and sometimes really was, jealous of him and otherwise offended, and he the same with regard to mo, we always made up again and were better friends than ever. There was not really any engagement between us, though Harry had asked me to form one ; but my parents objected to long engagements, and we were not ready to marry. Matters stood thus w ;n, early one Spring, we had an additi • i to our list of beaux in the form of a I'.shing young fellow, an Englishman, sent out by % wealthy firm of the mother country for the purpose of establishing an agency in their line of business. His head-quarters had been at Montreal, but ho now announced his intention of making our town his home during the summer. 'He had a good deal of leisure, and spent no inconsiderable part of it at our house, or in promenading the streots with mo. I could scarcely set my feet on the sidewalks without encountering him. His name was Bowns, and ho claimed to bo of aristocratic parentage. ■ He was handsome and affable, though rather supercilious, with a very distinguished appearance ; so no wonder the girls of our set wished to attract his attention, and were envious of me Of course I was proud of my conqueßt,J and perhaps carried myself a little haughtily in consequence. For some time Harry pouted, then openly remon strated, even pleaded ; but as I angrily asserted my independence, he finally desisted from all apparent notice of the matter ; and whenever we met he treated me with indifferent courtesy, and altogether showed a manly self command which I did not fail to notice and admire. Still I must confess that at that time I gave very little thought to Harry or to any of my old admirers ; it seems wonderful to me how completely I was fascinated by the pre possessing stranger. ' To be sure, he Mattered my vanity not a little, and my empty head was turned by his lavish, adulatory style of compli ments. He raved about my eyes of htavonly-blu-3, the golden glory of my mermaid locks, my swan-like neel-, and an endless Mow of pathos that ought to have disgusted me, but did not; and xo I listened and he ranted. About the middle of August we made up among our set a picnic party to drive out to Bice Lake Plains, aud spend the day in boating on the lake, gathering huckleberries, wild flowers, etc., and generally amusing our selves.

* You must know that there is an irregular chain of small lakes extending transversely from the Bay of Quinte, near the eastern etid of Lake Ontario to the eastern end of Superior. Bice Lake is the first of the chain, counting from Ontario, and it lies at a distance of from two to four hours' drive from several towns on the frontier. We had an early breakfast, and set oil'at 8 o'clock, so that we need not be on the ro:td during the heat of the day. There were several car riages; the one in which I rode was a handsome barouche, hind from a livery stable for the occasion, and by my side sat the all-conquering Mr. Bowns. ' For some unexplained reason Harry Vane did not go iv any of the carriages. but was mounted on horseback, and he rode gayly by the side of lirst one vehicle, then another. When we had gone a little distance out of town the country air, Rights and sounds were so exhilarating that we in our carriage began to sing. Harry ; hearing us, rode up and joined in the song, he being particularly fond of singing. Shortly we struck off into an old ditty which he and I had sung together countless times when we stood each first in the esteem of the other and no gay stranger had come between us. For a stanza or two Harry sang bravely, but when we came to the refrain suddeuly his horse bolted and he rode oil', ditching at his hat with one hand and seeming to draw rein with the other. The others of the party thought hi-* hor^e had shied and run away with him, but I saw through the whole mttneouver. and a sudden pang shot through my Selfi-di heart.

'On reaching the hike at the poiut agreed, upon, we separated into small companies, aud wandered about at will, but keeping within the vicinity of the camp until tho horn sounded for dinner. We were all. as is usual at picnics, in hungry mood, and we did not dine inincingly.

, 'After dinner we lolled about on the grass, for awhile,, then formed a plan for the afternoon's campaign. There were

near by several canoes or row-boats that were kept for hire, and a fair proportion of our band decided in favor of an excur sion on the lake, some parties going in one direction, some in another. The boats would accomodate only four persons eacn, the rowers and two others. Three boatloads, twelve individuals in all, determined to pay a visit to the tower on the opposite shore of the lake, and about three miles further up. As wo divided ourselves into parties of four I felt an irrepressible desire to have Harry Vane, who had declared for the tower, in our boat, so I called out: ' Harry are you coming with us ?' mean ing by us, Bowns end myself, ' I shall never forget the look of mingled pain and pleasure with which he replied, ' No Charlotte ; George Law is quartered in your boat.' 'It was 3. 30 o'clock when we landed neir the tower and drew the boat up on the beach. This tower was an octagon building four stories in height, consisting of only one room in each story, with a narrow spiral staircase leading from base to summit. At the top was an observatory not much larger than a good-sized bird cage, which had once been furnished with a small telescope mounted on a swivel, but was now reduced to a very common place spy-glass. The basement was a deep, dungeon-like hole, with a grated door, through which one entered a subterranean passage leading out to the shore of the lake. This tower, with its lean-to kitchen, or, rather, cookhouse, was built on a hill at the distance of about 200 yards from the water's edge, and it was the product of a Quixotic Englishman, and old bachelor's fancy. The whimsical tnandidnotcarryout his original intention of making a complete miniature castle of the feudal times, but suddenly abandoned the enterprise, and went as he came, no body knew whither. This odd little tower had been surrounded on all sides, save the deep bank next to the water, by a diminutive moat, which was now a dry ditch filled with weeds and wild flowers ; thore. too, was the wreck of a toy-like drawbridge, and within the inclosure were several quaint-looking garden-chairs cut into the stumps of trees. There was a family residing in the houso, at least they mado it an occasional residence during the summer, but that day they were absent, and tho garrulous old servant in charge-showed us over the premises. We stole down by the light of a lantern through the underground passage to the opening on the lake ; we climbed the steep stairs and peeped through thoold spy-glass, sat in the grotesque chairs, and gathered bouquets from the quondam moat. All thase vagaries consumed so much time that, before wo were aware, the sun was going down the westward slope in a way that, when we noticed it, sent us to our boats with speed. Wo were soon gliding over life water in jovial spirits aad at a fair rate of motion toward the eatnpiug place on the shore next home. The three boats kcot near together, and as we went we sang Tom Moore's Cauadiau boat-song. Just as our voices were ringing out:

"Row, hrother*, row, fo' tho stream runs fast, Tne rapid, aro noar and the daylight Is p_.ed ,' a sudden breeze almost took the light umbrella with which IwasjscreeniDg myself and companion from the suu and wind (we had left our bonnets at the camp) out of my hand. The breeze had subsided for a moment, and then came again more vigorously than before, and held on steadily. GoiTerally or frequently a stiff breeze rises on those lakes about or soon after sunset, but now the sun was certainly half an hour high. Sudden squalls espec ially when thunder clouds arc hovering near, accompanied by dangerous disturb ance of the water, are unpleasantly often the concomitants of boating on those shallow lakes.

'Looking around the horizon we discovered the cause of the suddenly rising wind. A heavy pile of black clouds coming up bchitid us in tho north-west were spreading themselves along the northern horizon, and extending upwards almost to the zenith ; and at the same time we began to hear thunder mutter and see th clightening play, though not very near. The weather-wise ones of our party said the shower was spending itself north of us, but we might get a sprinkle from its skirts, and the wind is sure to be troliblesome.

' Meanwhile we had crossed the lake, and were making our way down to the landing adjoining, which was our camp, keeping close in shore to avoid the commotion of the water.

' There is a peculiarity in that lake. The wild rice, from which it takes its name, grows over almost the entire bottom of the basin, and when at its tallest the grain lies floating on the surface of the water, and the Indians, when it is ripe, paddle round and get it in their canoes. This, however, makes navigation to ordinary rowers rather difficult, and where the basin is particularly shallow, or when the waters are agitated by storms, the passiige is perilous.

'1 soon perceived that Bowns and Mr. Law were by no means masters of the situation ; and oh, how I lcnged for the tried and trusty arm of Harry Vane to steer our giddy little skiff. Just then Harry, who was ahead, called out to us to make for an islet, a little way out in the lake, on one side of which there wag not much rice, and which had been used by ■the Indians as a landing place, as it sloped gradually into the water ; he said we had better laud there and wait for the squall to pass over. ' The rowers turned the boat toward the

islet and pushed out vigorously, I mean time holding the umbrella low like a tent or awning over my own and Nellie Morton's head for now it was raining. Again Harry called to us to shut down the umbrella, lest it should catch the wind and upset the skiff, and the next moment Bowns, who had not said one woid to us girls since the wind sprung up, snapped out, ' Yes, certainly, down with that umbrella.'

' What with a sense of danger, and what with sudded consternation at being spoken to in such a tone and manner, I had no self-command, and, in shutting the umbrella I somehow lost my balance, and next instant IJwas sinking in the blinding

waters. «I must have risen very quickly, tor the boat was there, and I laid my hands on its side, but quick as a flash. Bown's hand came down on mine, and, though he afterwards said that he tried to lay hold of mo to assist me, I know that he disloged my hand. True, I should have upset the boat, and just as true he flung me off to perish. As I sank again, even through the gurgling in my ears, I heard the voice of Harry Vane, 'Courage Charlotte, I'm

earning. ' Again I rose and again sank: Then I ceased to struggle, and the pain of suffo cation was gone. I knew that I was dy ing, and like electricity all my past life flashed before me. I had no terror of death, but I longed to ask Harry's pardon. Bowns I seemed to have forgotten. The tall rice was all about me, and I knew no more until a deadly sickness and great pain woke me to conciousness. Was it the gurgling water or human speech that rumbled in my ears ? I did not know ; I did not care ; I only wished not to be disturbed—not to suffer.

' Slowly my comprehensions returned, and I found myself on a bed in the log-cabin of the man who kept the boats on hire, and it was night, for candles were burning. Some of my companions of the picnic were there, but I was too weary to ask questions. ' When next I opened my eyes it was daylight, and my father and mother were bending over me.' ' Suddenly I remembered something of tho drowning and I cried out, ' Where is Harry ? He said he was coming.' ' They hushed and soothed me, and I suppose administered a narcotic, fori have only a faint recollection of lying on a bed in a covered conveyance, and of being annoyed by the jolting. ' The next time I awoke my mind was clear. I recollected all, and begged to be told how I was saved. My friends evaded this question, and my suspicions being aroused, I demanded to see Harry Vaue. Finding they could no longer put mo off, they told me *hat Harry had rescued me and swam with me toward the islet, where one of the boats had just landed. Another gentlemen waded out breast high to meet him. and drew me to tho shore, suposins, that Harry was following. But Harry did not follow, and in the excitement about me he was not missed until too late. Whether he was exhausted or whether he took cramp, no one could tell. This only I know and never shall forget: Harry Vane was drowned in saving my life. This also I know : I shall live and die Charlotte Kemp. As for Bowns, I hated then, I hate still the sound of his name. He left our town almost immediatley after the occurrence, and I never saw his face after the day of the picnic'

Mark Twain's Homo at Hart ford.

Quite recently I rode out on Partn ington Avenue, to view the domicil of that latter-day eccentric, Mark Twain, aud was much edified by half an hour's inspection of the premises. A queer, ] rambling edifice of variegated brick, j possessing innumerable steep gables i of different sizes, and two octagnal1 wings sprawl on the top of an irregular! elevation, facing, of course, to the rear. Fronting the street is the kitchen, with a row of clothes lines before it, upon which, every Monday morning, curious pedestrians may inspect the family linen. Opposite, commanding a fine view of the stable, and up a steep declining, where Hog hiver, the muddiest stream in Connecticut, trickles at the bottom, is the parlor. Before it, upon a wide piazza, are scattered numbers of easy chairs, of rattan, table of the same material, and here also swings a hammock. It is the pride of the fortunate proprietor that no two rooms in the building resemble each other in the slightest respects and, indeed, a glance at the odd nook; and corners, the projecting balconies' diminutive windows, and incompre hensible recesses, would suggest an architectual conundrum of extreme in tricacy. To the left, on entering the grounds, are several green-houses, in the rear, a spacious barn, and to the left ot that a servant's house, in which many a family might live comfortably. "■ll of the buildings are a dull red, variegated with bright crimson, and may be described as edifices of abori ginal extraction in their war paint.

The books -bat make a sensation are those

than are unreadable. They are like indigesti ble diuners. Toe dinners that are . easily digested are never spoken of, the next day.

Rebecca of Ivanhoe.

WASHINGTON lEVING'S _?lEB_. AJn> I LOVE. * *•

The Chbonicle recently printed _l following vagrant item under the T> P . *' head:— % ' Mis. Grundy say 3 that tha orirf_i I Sir Walter Scot's Rebecca, i Q the -1 of 'Ivanhoe' was a Philadelphia J.^ whose picture Washington Irvin- B uWesi| to Scott.' ° "H1

This publication has called from a I informed correspondent some interjfj particulars of the part taken by Iryj!^! supplying Scott with this interesting i-f 1^ ary picture from real life, iuclu^J. American author's early love, dissatL ment, and the mutual vows (of q^ taken by himself and the lady wholovJp' was not permitted to wed him, and J? is reproduced in Scott's charming ehara t of Rebecca. Our correspondent W-' information from a relative of the lad • question, and the already kncuvn _m_?l leave but little room to doubt that th freshly published details are aubstautklf correct. The story, as our correspond relates it, is as follows: ™ Washington Irving, in early life.becaij acquainted with a very intelligent y beautiful Jewess in Philadelphia, by tt name of Eebecca Gratz. This 'acily tance ripened into love, iv which -m shared, and Irving proposed marriage'J was accepted on condition that the m*d. of the lady would consent to the union S[ their daughter with a Gentile. <M Hebrew religion forbade such a marri__J and though the parents esteemed _J suitor highly, they could not bring theiri minds to consent to a violation of so. aw i a regulation of their faith. The attach' ment was so strong between the lady _J Irving that nothing but their elevated sense of the duty of a child to parental authority kept them from wedding, jw resolved, however, that in sentiment%! would remain true to each other tbJ, life and never wed. 8 1

It was during this state of their reMoo that Irvmg made his first visit to M Walter Scott. The ktter had alreadjl made for himsolf an undying reputioa _ an author, and the former, with _.ia literarj productions, had attracted the attention of the _' Wizard of the North,' who wasii that time incubating in his mind thai wonderful story of ' Ivanhoe.' Person*;, intercourse with xrving so won upon1 Scott's confidence that he sketched fohb the plan of the story, confessing, at tin same time, that he felt the need off heroine other than Rowena. Irving'skarl and head were full of his romantic low for Bebecca Gratz, and he modesfll proffered to furnish Scott with a heroinJ many of the incidents connected wil whom should be drawn from real If The offer was accepted, and Irving's V% becca, mutually pledged with him t unwedded earthly fidelity, stood as i_ model of the immortal Bebecca of 'Ircl hoe,' Scott, of course, adapted it to ti exigencies of his story, but the gra ideal as furnished by Irving was I changed. It is known to everyone that Km) I never was married, and those whow. intimate with him knew also, or belie..} S that the cause of it was an early af_t_' . ment, about which a cloud of myito; hung, rendering him insensible to t_j. blandishments and charms of oik."' women, by whom he was highlvesteem.)," and in the breast of some, it was supposs m a warmer sentiment existed. _ebe«i\;r

Gratx. gentle and loving, with heart _ hand ever open to suffering and sown remained true to her plighted faith, an. like Irving, died unwedded.

FALLING STARS.

FROM THE FRENCH 01" ___£_(___

' Shepherd, thou say'st mid yonder blue, r The star which rules us sparkles bri_M 'I do, my son; but from our view 'Tis hidden by the vail of night.' Shepherd, they say thy mind recalls The wild, weird words those planitsaj. What thou declares yon star which fall Falls, falls, and fades away ?' 'My son, when'er a mortal ends, His star drops earthward instantly; Thus one while reveling with his fridl Dies amid mirth and tipsy gle.! He hears not his companions call, H-3 last song has been sung to-day; His star acompiishes its fall, Falls, falls, and fades away !' Tne maiden, tender and untried, Soon to lisp for .h her bridal vows, A daughter fond, a loving bride, And worthy of a worthy spouse! The orange blossoms deck her pall, The priest must now the requiem say. Her star is one of those that fall, Fall, fall, and fade away ! Behold, my son, yon lapsing fires Were sonis greac noble's ! even he- His little splendor past—expires Amid his gold and blazonr J Though flaterers throng his splendid p* And fawn upon him, day by day, His life is but v scar sbafc falls, Falls, falls, and fades away.' y

Novel Features.— Laay : 'Too b-d-W .Bailey ! Only your second morning hew"[ you are quite intoxicated !'—Gardiner '.'^ a bit! Look agin, my ladish. itsh ;»JJ I'm new 1 Minesh a face as yon &W ushed to, aud then you'll find I ain't w* drunksh ash I mi^hc sheem to a stranger'

Pri-.__!l and E_bt-_._a by the *m»i_*KsSd B.._XT. of j_*nel__ at his General BtfWsS_ Offlce, Wyndham-street, in the City of At«*,| New Zealand : -. . , Saturday, October 28, ISTd.

EVENING STAR SUPPICEMENT, OCTOBER 38, 1867.