THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 18, 1887.

(SUPPLEMENT,

Ruby's Reward.

" bYJIR S GEOROIE SHELDON, , n f "Tho Forsaken Bride," w- ■ •-. • : (iprownie's Triumph," "That ',-■' Dowdy," etc. fffcj — ____a. . CHAPTER in.

■, 'l.■'*:■■ A PLEASANT ENCOUNTER. ' I TFi jj sat a long timo lost in troubled irhfc after Edmund left him. He felt ; h, hurt and indignant over the treat-, •■jjt that he had received. •ge knew that, his Uncle Ralph never ■' Jd have allowed him to be turned thus drift upon ie ne had dreamed f the possibility of such treatment from Edmund; while in spite of all evidence to, rte contrary, he still believed that there . list e xist some document providing for jisfuXure. He was not suspicious enough to think : 0 Edmund would destroy or suppress*, nfcK'an' instrument if it had existed. He thought it must havo been mislaid or lost; but ho was greatly surprised and t-irt to find that the son of his dearest friend was unwilling to share something of his abundance with him. He knew that he had never really liked him—that he had i e ven been jealous of his love for his father, hot he was unprepared for quite such a display of aversion and heartlessness as he 'lud manifested towards him. Hisoffer of a position in the counting-room and the sneering reference to a " promo tion" if he "did well at his po/t," had jailed him beyond endurance ; while what fe had said about his father indulging in naixotic sentiment on his account, and the insult offered to the late Mrs Carpenter, by bringing him —the son of Mr Carpenter's fiistlove—into his home, made every nerve in his body tingle with indignation. "I will not bs under an obligation to him for another dollar !" he cried at length, starting to his feet with a crimson face and fiashing eyes. And yet, as his glance wandered about the beautiful room, and he thought how much he had enjoyed, in that home of luxury, with the one who was now gono from feeling of loneliness and homo jickness, such as he had never before ex perienced oppressed him.. But he would not stop to grieve or repine, jnd, with a resolute air, he strode from the house, turning hi? steps at once toward the city, to see what he could do to provide for his own future. But it was no light thing for him to give up the hopes that he had entertained for thenext two years -to tarn his back upon college, where he had stood well and been ambitious to do honour to himself and to the friend who had been so kind to him. Rwa3 no light thing to feel that, he must goout from that pleasant, luxurious home, to give up his liberal income, and be obliged toTabour longer hours in order to secure even an humble lodging and food to satisfy Ms; hunger, and bitter thoughts crowded fMck and fast upon his mind as he sped on toward tho busy town where he was destined to battle with fate during the iexfc few years. ;fle had a long distance to walk before he could take a car. Usually lie rode into the city, but to-day he had not felt that he W a right to use even the horse which jflrCarpenter had given him for his special Jming a couple of years previews. ; •-He reached the corner" at Tengtn and %>ped, hear a handsome residence, to ait until his car should appear. His (Stentiion was almost immediately attracted, pd the teraor of his thoughts changed, by to sound of a clear, bird-like voice: which tame floating out upon the air through an fen window, beneath /which he was fading. ~ ■ , ;Up and down the scale it ran, sweet, mag, and flexible; then suddenly changed and burst into a charming little s£g?a verse of Avhicb Walter caught, and wMch rang rhythmically in his brain long jfter.,. .... . ..:

"I will thy name repeat, Marguesite, Mar ■ ■ guerite, Foritisso sweet, so sweet, . ..;■. . - .<■. , • : . ftattic birds wijl stay to ljsten. And Q& sunbeams; glisten, . • Kthy goHen hair; S j Marguerite, so fair, so fan , . ''I wonder if her name is Marguerite," thohght Walter. "I know she must be 'fair°and sweet' to have a voice like that." : The' sweot song seemed to' lift something "ef'the burden from his heart, and he : would gladly have lingered to hear more of it, bat just then there came the tinkling of tie car-bell in the distance, and, casting one wistful' glance towards the house whence fchafc lovely voice h,ad proceeded, le walked to the edge of the sidewalk to hail his car. 1 The ne»b moment the door of the man sion, near which she had been , standing, opened, ane there skipped out a bewilder ing little fairy in the daintiest and crkpest fblue'lawns; with a cluster of pint roses in her belt, the prettiest of hats, adorned mfch the A-hitest and - roost graceful of 'feathers upon her golden head. • Eyes of liquid blue looked shyly . out from beneaifa silken fringed lids; delicate Wigs of sunny hair lay with careless grace Bpbn her-white forehead;'a lovely pink fluttered in her rounded cheek, and a merry anile parted a pair of red lips, thus reveal ; %"iwo rows of small, milk-white teeth ; beneath them. : ' .; .....,'■-■. -,-';■: J "She-had a coquettish, little bag of blue Nik" and velvet in one hand, and a music »ttof Russia, leather under her arm, which indicated that she was the songstress of a before, and was now going to foe .city for her lesson. • •. ' l-She tamed back as she reached the side walk and said, with pretty impcriousnes3 : ; /"Now, mind, Estelle, do not go driving |§il I get home; I'll make madam shorten toy.lesson, and come back just as soon as I and.kissing the tips .of the fingers to fte invisible personage within, the beautiful prlraa forward to the' curb just as the car, a obedience to Walter's signal, came to a W., '1' . : ';■■■• '. . 'Walter could not control tbe admiring wkthat sprang to his fine eyes as he stood I Reside to allow to enter firet. ' I -She flashed him a swift glance and smjle J wthanks while the colour, deepened in her I ™eeks as'she met hie eyes. . , But her little foot slipped aa she stepped I JPon .the platform, and she would haye I 'pn had not the young man sprung for- I Wind . assisted her to recover her I Wince.'•' ' ,'. '• : I y'l&pe you arc not hurt," he'saidi as she I cry, AvhOe he picked up and I Ws "fche- music roll which /she had § zapped:: , 1 ."Oα, iio, thank you,"' she returned, I fehima grateful look, " though doubt- I have been but for your kincl m. ***•'■■ ': ' ' ' ; .■■■•■'.,. ;| iSll 6 passed on into tlio car and took a I 'There was roonienough for auother, I ■■fio.dmpsfc unvoluntarily she motioned him fl ""it beside hei-, a privilege of v/hicli he I °??«itatihgly availed himself, "though with I TOkening pulses and a strange thrill in if eregion ofhis'heart. ?' • " ; . m appeared a tnfle shy, i 7 falter did not feel af liberty to open 1 J Creation, though he longed to hear m a pa ; n urK l bo learn who she was ; »■"*■!?)■ b °S> safe silent, but very conscious i each otji§ivall fcbe way I . w ...'•:'":.. /■" ' ■'■■ ■'■"-

Walter had, seen the initials R, G. eh paved upon the'clasp of her music-roll as lie picked ifc .up, and he puzzled himself during the ride to fit them to appropriate names for the fair 'divinity that had so sud denly burst upon his vision. He was at length obliged,to leave without lavintj the mystery solved, and rising, he luted Ins hat with all the courtesy of which ho was master, bowed Ins atfious, and went ins way, followed by as .witching a pair of blue eyes as ever watched a gallant knight out of sight. ° A regretful sigh escaped the little lady as he disappeared. "I wish I could learn who he is; I wonder if I shall ever see him apain;" she thought, and all during the singing lesson with madam, a pair of frank, handsome eyes'; and a, fine, broad white brow, .crowned with waving, brown hair.haunted her mind while that yet strong and helpful clasp of his good right hand, as was laid upon her arm to keep her ■ from falling, seemed still to thrill along her nerves.

Meanwhile, Walter proceeded directly to the business portion of the city, and'finally stopped before a door above which was a sign bearing the name, "Albert Conant, Architect and Builder."

Ho entered the building and in a few moments was in the architect's private office.

Mr Conant; was alone and engaged with some plans that were spread out upon a desk before him. Walter bowed, and, removing his hat, said : " Mr.Conanb, my name is Walter Richard son, and I have called to ask if you are in need of office help"?" ''* Ah ! Do you know anything about my business, Mr Richardson?" inquired Mr Conant studying the frank attractive face of the visitor. "Not ranch, practically,l am afraid, sir, although I have given considerable time and study to certain branches of ifc. But 1 have a desire to learn ifc thoroughly, ard have come to poe if I cotdd find an opening, with that end in view." Mr Conant asked him a number of ques tions, and appeared considerably surprised upon being told that he had been reared by Ralph Carpenter. "I knew Mr Carpenter well," ho said. " So you are the boy whom he adopted ? If he was as fond of you as I have heard, I am surprised at the necessity of your ap plying , to me for employment, for he was a very rich man, and ought to have liberally provided for you."

Walter considered a moment, and then freely told the man just how he was situated, although ho tried to cast as little reflection as possible upon the son of his bene factor.

jvlr Conant r.ppeared to be deeply in terested in his story, and his lips curled scornfully when Walter montio , ed the paltry offer that lie had received to induce him to become a plodding clerk. "So you did not feel inclined to take up with Mr Edmund Carpenter's offer ?" he observed dryly, as Walter concluded. "No, Bir. 1 cannot make up my mind to enter a counting-room—l have no taste for that kind of life ; while it seemed like a wagte of time to attempt to earn my living and study evenings. I should pre fer to begin upon tho business I have in mind, and work for less for awhile, for I should feel that I am learning all the time. I have heard it said," he -added, with a smile, " ' once a clerk always a clerk,' and I do not feel as if I could sit my life out on a stool and become simply a mathe matical automaton."

Mr Conant smiled. Ho liked the ring oi decision and character in tha young man's tone.

" Some book-keepers receive very good salaries," he said " True ; but the majority do not, and I wish to become an independent business maw, by and by. I believe it is in me, arid I mean" to try for it." " What is your idea about learning to be come an architect ?"

"I am afraid my ideas arc somewhat crude upon that point, sir. I simply know that it is a profitable business. I am attracted toward it. ■ I telieve I have a natural aptitude for it, and I am willing to begin at the lowest round of the ladder and work my way up." " '„ " I like that ; it sounds as if you really mean business," returned Mr Conant, with an approving nod ; " bub what would you say if I should advise you to spend a year learning the carpenter's trade first ?" Walter's face fell, mid a quick flush mounted to his brow. It was just what Edmund Carpenter had said to him, and it would be beginning much lower than he had imagined he would be obliged to commence. "T)oes that sound a little rough?" ques tioned Mr Conant, observing his disap pointment. " I should advise the same if you were my own son. All architects should have a. practical knowledge.of the construc tion of buildings, in order to be able to plan them understandingly. I learned the trade when I was a yeung many and it has been of inestimable value to nre." '•But how can 1 manage it ?-who will teach me ?" stammered Walter, wondering how he was to live, and who would want to take,as a carpenter's apprentice, a young man of his stamp - one who had never been accustomed to labour,' and with hands as delicate as agirl's. Mr Conant regarded him very kindly. He understood his trouble ; he saw that ho was eager to do the right thing, and be maided by his superior Wisdom, and Ins interest in him deepened accordingly. "I think I can arrange that matter for you : that is, if you are willing to rough it for awhile; you cannot expect to have things move along quite as smoothly as they did when you were the proterje of the wealthy Balph Carpenter." " I do iiot expect it, sir ; but how can I Hto while I am learning? I must eat, I must have shelter; clothing I am weM supplied: with for the present. "Can you not remain where you are? Will not young Carpenter assist you in your plans ?" , , . . A»ain Walter flushed crimson. '' No sir ; he told me if. I would not accept his offer he would < washl his hands, of me entirely ' I would not solicit his assistance in auy way. Mr Conant, after that I wilt depS™ myself ; make my own way S be under no obligation to him," he said Pl 'Mr d Conant smiled slightly. , the young fellow's pluck and i"% n dence "Well " he said » tter thinking awhile, «I do not kn»» as I bl»J»e you, and! reckon aSL«nt,bufifyo«ooin.to m » t . ? ain Wi &S»rtwe,,ty.yca rS o.d an^e tion, as he . if, vos .a a y f

signalled for the conductor to stop at the coi;ner where he was to get oft', he assisted her to alight, and received a low, sweet "thank you" that thrilled him and made him resolve to seek a formal introduction to her the first opportunity, and becoaie acquainted with her.

Instead of going directly home, he walked past the house, after "shd had entered, and read upon the silver door-plate the name of " Gordon."

"R. G. The 'G. must stand for Gordon," he mused ; and then he went out to Forestvale, puzzling his brains , more over what name the first initial stood for than upon what the issue of his next inter view with Mr Conant would be.

CHAPTER IV. " I WIJ,L MAKE THE MOST OK MY OPI'OK TUNITY." Walter learned, upon his return to Forest vale, that Edmund had cone to New York, and would not be back for a week. fio was- not at all disturbed by this intelligence, however; indeed lie was rather relieved than otherwise, for it would give him an opportunity to mature his plans without any fear of interference on his part. '.'-,'"<, At the appointed hour, the next daj, he went again to Mr Conant's office with the determination to be guided by his advice, even though' it should not be exactly In accordance with his taste or inclination. " Ho found him in, and was instantly en couraged by tho gonial manner with which he welcomed him. " "\Vell, my young friend," , he cried, as he cordially, shook him by the hand ; your promptness speaks well for your intentions. I trust you have considered well what I said to you yesterday." "I think I have, sir," Walter replied gravely. "'Has your courage been daunted by the advice which I gave you ?" "No, sir. If I can earn an honourable living, and at.the same time have a fair pro spect of realising my aspiration by-and-by, I am willing to adopt whatovcrmeasuresmay seem best for iitting myself for my business " "That's the way to talk; and now for tho result of my deliberations and investiga tions," returned Mr Conant. " I have an extensive contract on hand that will take nearly a year to complete. 1 have an ex cellent master-builder in charge, who has consented to take you under his especial supervision and teach you all that you are willing to learn. It will be hard, up-hill work, my friend—l will not attempt to conceal the fact—harder for you than for many others, because you have never done any work ; but I ki>ow that it will pay in tho end, if you will stick to it and do your best."

"I shall do that, sir, for I have made up my mind, and will not turn back now," said Walter, resolutoly. "That is well. And now about the terms. I can't promise you very much to begin with—not evon as much as Mr Edmund Carpenter ofi'ercd you. The first three months yon will receive a dollar and a half a day and your board. Mr Wayland will take you into his family, if that will be agreeable'to you. The next three months you will receive more, if you earn it, and so on; your wages will be gauged according to your ability. How do these arrange ments strike you ?" Walter in earnest thought for a few minutes. The outlook was certainly not a very tempting one. Seven dollars and a half a week seemed very little to him. How often he had spent double that to gratify a mere whim, or upui some pleasure ! But he was no longer the jwottga of a rich man; lie had nothing now in the world but his own energy and hands to depend upon, and he had no right to bo dissatisfied with what he felt sure must be a fair offer to one who know absolutely nothing; regarding the business he was about to attempt. Ab last he looked up and met Mr. Conant's eye with a resolute expression. "I cannot say that the work is exactly to my taste, 1, he said, " but I shall do as you recommend, ahrj I wiil endeavour to mako the most of my opportunity ; but——,,, "■ ■ : " Well, speak out, my young friend,' said Mr Gonant, encouragingly., '..;• - :  " Gould T nob study and do a little office work for you evenings, so as Co get on a trifie faster?" Mr Conant threw back his head, and laughed heartily. " Well, you are plucky, and your ambi tion does you credit; but let me tell you that, for the first three months at least, you will not care for much but rest and sleep after your regular clay's work is done. However," he added, seeing the disap pointed look on the young man's face, " if you find yourself equal to it, I can give you work and study enough. I shoaUl really like to see some of the work you have already done in my line." "Should you ?" asked Walter, starting up, eagerly. ' f I brought down a roll of drawings to show you; they are outside. I will get them." He disappeared from the room, but soon returned with a roll of plans under his arm. Mr Gonant examined them with interest. He made no comment until he had looked at them all. Then he remarked: "Mr Richardson, you just do your level best at carpentering for th& coming year, and there will be no trduble about your going ahead as fast as you like after that, and I will give you all the help I can." "You are very kind, sir," Walter re sponded, much gratified ab the high praise implied in Mr Conant's words and manner, "andl-iwM do my 'best. . When can 1

begin ?" • ■ The architect was much pleased at this question. It had the ring _of business, of energy and purpose that suited him exactly. '«Monday morning, if you like. That ■will givC you three days to wind up any little personal affairs that you my have on hand. You. can come to me here at seven o'clock. I will then introduce you to Mr Wayland, and then you may consider your self as fairly launched upon your new career. Shall 1 tell him that you will board with " Yes, sir, If you think it will be a suit able place." . " I should not recommend it if it were not. You could not get into better hands. And now," concluded the architect, glancino- at his watch, " I have an engage ment, but I shall look for you on Monday, at seven sharp." . Walter assured him that he wauld be on hand, and then took his leave , with a feel ing of responsibility and independence that he had never before experienced. " Smart fellow ; keen, intelligent, and with lots of talent and grit. He'll make his mark yet, and shame that-unfeeling scamp,; who, I believe, if the truth were known, has cheated him out of a for tune." ■ ' . /, , , J T - This was the mental comment of Mr CoNant as the door closed on Walter. '■ .' The previous day, immediately after the young man had left him, the noted archi tect had paid Mr Carpenter's old lawyer, Mr Fairbanks, a • call, and questioned him about the boy the rich man had reared. . . He learned his whole history, and be came deeply interested in him, while a sus- Eicion came into his mind that there had een foul play or else culpable negligence on the part of some ono, or he would never ! have been left to shift for himself after having , been reared in luxury a.nd affluence. *A ] • , . • He could not help believing, with Mr Fairbanke and good old M»s Coxon that Ralph Carpenter must have made a will caring for the son of the woman whom he had so fondly loved ; but what had become lof it was a scaled mystery, although it was i possible that Mr Simons, one of the wit ; nesses,might be able to throw some light upon it- when he .should return from I abroad, ' ■ • • L -•• - : ■

'Walter went directly home after leaving Mr Conant's office, and informed Mrs Coxon of the change that he was contemplating.'., The boy had always been a favourite 1 with her, and she had been greatly dis turbed upon discovering there was no will, and he nad been left penniless, while she had stormed and raved inwardly over Edmund Carpenter's treatment of him since his father's death. She threw up her hands with horror when Walter told her that he was going to be a carpenter. . • "What! and leave college,; Master. Walter ?" she cried, aghast. " Yes, and ' leave "college. , I have nothing to pay college bills with now," he answered, a trifle bitterly. "Mr Edmund ought to pay them," said fche woman, tartly. " Edmund thinks I have received educa tion enough, and that I. ought to earn my wn living now. 1 . , '• Perhaps lie didn't think he had learning enough jwnen he was only half through college. It's a burning shame ! What would poor dear Mr Carpoater have said if he could have known that this was going to happen ?" and tears of mingled anger and regret rolled over her cheeks. " Uncle Ralph knew that I wanted to be an architect, Mrs Coxon, and he was willing I should study for it," Walter said to comfort her. '.' Of course : but ho would have helped you to it in a decent manner. He never would have thrust you out of the house that has been your home for so many yeans." '' I know ■• but really I -prefer to go away, Mrs Coxon." "I can't blame you, after the way. you have been treated ; but you wouldn't have preferred to go if the master was alive." "No, there would have been no need," the young man said sadly. " There sliould be no'need now" wasthoin dignant retort. " I tell you, Walter," diopp ing her voice, and glancingaroundto see that no one could overhear, " I am almost sure that a good big slice of the old gentle man's property rightly belongs to you. If ever I saw anything that looked like a will, that document that I signed for him looked like one." "I am afraid you wero mistaken, Mrs Coxon," Walter answered, thoughtfully, " and it does no good to get excited over the matter. No will could be found, you know ; but even if Uncle Ralph did make one, he might have destroyed it afterward, thinking it would be wronging Edmund to will his property away to a stranger." " Stranger, indeed"! Why, Mr Carpenter just set his eyes by you." "Yes, I think he" was fond of mo, arid I am sure I could not have loved him better if I had been his own son." " And you ought to have a son's portion. There's money enough, goodness knows, for you to have a handsome slice, and wrong nobody." " Well, regrets aro useless. The fact remains, I have nothing. lam only a poor fellow, who will henceforth have to look out for number one," said Walter, trying to smile, bub feeling heavy at heart, nevertheless. " I can't bear to havo you give up collesre," replied Mrs Coxon, stifling a sob. Then, looking up suddenly, she added: '• I've saved up something, Master Walter. If you will only take it, and keep on, I'd be prouder than I can tell you." "Icouldn't," ho answered, flushing, but deeply touched by the affection that had prompted the, offer. " I should not feel right to take your money, Mrs Coxon, though I thank you for your kind interest in me. It would put me back in my pro fession, too, if I should spend two years more at college. I must get at the real business of lifo # a? soon as possible. I mean to do the very best that I can, and if there is any talent in mo, I intend to make it count for something:." "Of course you will. I am not a bit afraid but that you'll comeoufr at.the" ''top of a heap' yet," eaid the good woman, with an affectionate glance into fche earnest face before, her ; " and if you ever want any help, or ever get into any trouble, come to me. I'll always be a friend to you. And mind, you are to bring me all yonr mend ing, i'll look out for your clothes—that's the very least that I can do - and 'twouldn't seem natural not to have the handling of them after I'd done it for so many years." "You are very good tome, Mrs Coxon, and I know I shall miss you and your many favours every day," said Walter, a tear starting tohis eye. .v . "It breaks, my old heart to have you leave the house," moaned the housekeeper, with a sudden burst of tears ; " but you'll come and see nio, won't you, once in a while ?" ' - "Yes, of course I will. I have too few friends to be willing to desert the very best one that I havo loft," the young man an swered, heartily, though his lip quivered suspiciously over the words. It was very hard to go oiit forever from that elegant home, where he had been' so happy —where every wish had .been grati fied—and spend his fntsure among strangers, who had no interest in him, no affection foi iim. ' ■' •

But almost anything would be prefer able to the treatment he had received since Mr Carpenter's death, by which he had been made to feel that he was an alien and intruder; and the memory of this event went far towards arming him with courage and energy for the hard life which he knew was before him.

CHAPTER V.- ;.... IN WHICH THERE IS AN INTRODUCTION. At seven sharp on Monday morning Walter presented himself in the office of Mr Conant, who immediately accompanied him to the block, where he was introduced to Mr Wayland, the master builder, and set regularly to work as an apprentice. We cannot follow him through the year that ensued ; one or two incidents will serve as links in our story, and show sdnietliing of the struggles through which he passed, and the success which he attained. He did not like tlie carpenter's trade any better than he had anticipated. It was hard, rough work, and not at all suited to his taste; but Mr Conant had said that it would be an important stepping stone toward the goal which he was seek ing, so he threw his whole heart into 'the business, determined to master it iri all its details, in order that he might apply its principles to his future profession, .'•f. ." ; The first three months were indeed very tryinc ones to him, and he found that he did not care for much but sleep and rest after his day's work was even as Mr Conant had said. ... He was lame and sore iri every joint; his hands were bruised, and cut, and,scratched, from contact with rough boards, arid the awkward use Jjf implements to which he was so unaccustomed, and looked little.like those delicate members, which for years had been white and soft as a woman s, and of which he had : been not .a, little proud. ■, '~ ~ ■ '■■ V . But these were minor trials, and being possessed of a strong constitution and.a splendid physique, he gradually became, more- used to his work, and soon learned how to favour himself. His' muscles touo'hencd, his sinews strengthened, until 'at fength ; he began to glory'in the new powers that were being developed , within , him, and to experience some of the dignity and nobility of labour, albeit his. tastes were not exactly suited thereby. : ■'.'-' . ~ After a time he began to feel the old ambi tion to get on faster rising within him, and one nio-ht he presented himself at; Mr Conarit's house and requested that he might have something given Mm for evening oc cupation. '.:''•■ ..','; , , . The architect, who had been watching his progress with great interest, and was well pleased with tlie way he had conducted himself, willingly complied wjth his request, gave him a key to-his office, where he Cjjultt

work comfortably, and began tp initiate him iir the more intricate mysteries of his pro fession. ' This was work thab just suited our hero, and as time passed, he became more and more inspired with a love for his business ; his enthusiasm waxed stronger, while lie began to'appreciate the wisdom that had directed him to master the fundamental principles of construction. Mr Conanb -was surprised at the rapid strides that ho made, and; soon allowed him to assist him upon his plans, and often con sulted him regarding-pouvba thab required a 'good deal of thought and judgment. Toward the last of the year Mr Conanb contracted to prepare plans and superin tend the building of an elegant new resi dence, that was to. bo erected upon, the banks of the Boliuylki.il and nob very far from Fairmount Park, the beautiful public grounds of the city. There was upon these plans considerable work thatMr Conant allowed 'Walter to share with him, anditwasnotlongbcforc the young man became absorbed in it, asid devoted so much time to it that jiis employer began to fear that hla health would suffer from such close application. But his enthusiasm did nob abate until the designs were com pleted, and then he was as familiar with every detail as the groat architect him self.

Mr Conanb had promised that they should be delivered to the owner upon a certain day; bub he found that ho should be obliged to be out of town ab bhab time, so he requested Walter to take them to a certain street and number, with a message to the effect thab he would call upon his return 'arid explain anything that might not appear plain to the gentleman. The young man was very proud of , , his commission, and started forth in high spirits ; but what was his surprise upon ascending the steps of the mansion bo which ho had been directed, bo find himself before bhe very door from which had issued the attractive maiden whom he had encountered that day when he had firsjfc started forth " to seek his fortune," and who had so entranced him with her sweet song, and whose beauti ful face still haunted many of his waking and dreaming hours. He knew that bhe name of the gentleman who was about to build was Gordon, but ho had not associated him in any way with tho lovely girl whom lie had often longed to meet, bub whom ho had never seen since that bright summer day. Ho mounted the marble steps with quick ened heartbeats at this unexpected discov ery, and rang the bell. A servant answered the call.

Walter inquired for Mr Gordon, and was shown into the library, whero the gentle man sat reading by ahandtsomo.table.in the centre of the room.

He delivered Mi' Conant's message, and handed the plans to him, -whereupon the gentleman cast aside his paper and was in stantly all attention and interest. " Sit down a moment, young man," he said, waving Walter to a chair ; "I would like just to glance at them, and then I may have some message I would like to send back to Mr Conant."

Waller obeyed, and took the chair offered him. Glancing around him, he noticed that the room was most luxuriously fur nished, and that, there were evidences of great wealth all about him. The many books in their rich bindings and elegantly carved cases ; the choice pictures upon the walls, and costly busts of great authors, scattered here and there, all spoke, of abundant means.

Mr Gordon had become absorbed in his plans, and the stillness was becoming awkward and oppressive to Walter, when all at once, from somewhere above, there came tho sound of a fresh young voice trilling a jjopular opera air. He flushed, to Ins temples, and his heart gave a sudden bound. Tie instantly recognised the voice, and it made him long- to look ouco more into the lovely face of,its owner.

" These plans are certainly very attrac tive, Mr Richardson," Mr Gordon observed, looking up jusb then ; " bub I wish Mr Conahfc could hnve come himself this even ing, , for there are some questions I would like to . ask—some things that 1 do not quite understand. However, I suppose I cau go down to his office any day and he will make everything plain bo me." "Perhaps I can tell you, sir," Walter said, rising, and moving toward tho table. " 1 assi-ted Mr Conant about theplaus, and am quite familiar with them." Mr Gordon seemed well pleased at this intelligence. Ho moved, a chair to the table for him, and for an hour kepb him busy explaining and talking over various matters connected with the new residence he was contemplating. Just as Walter arose to go, there came a light step and a rustle outside tho library door ; then a gentle tap. " Robert, may I come in ?" queried a sweet voice, and, without, waiting for a reply, the door swung open, and a vision of loveliness appeared upon the threshold. Walter stood spell-bound. The beautiful girl of whom he had been dreaming for months appeared like a framed picture in the doorway. She was clad in a misty dress of white tulle and lace, looking as if she had suddenly dropped to earth from some fleecy cloud. The light, airy costume suited her delicate style of beauty to pei-fection, and her. only ornaments were sprays of dark-greon feathery ferns, that made a charming con trast, and nodded and quivered with every movement of her graceful figure. " Excuse me, Robert," she said, flushing and drawizig back, as she met Walter's admiring eyes, and recognised him in stantly; "I did not know you had com pany." "Never mind, Ruby, you know I told you to come to me before you went out," replied Mr Gordon, turning to the bright vision with a smile. " Yon look like. a fairy fresh from some mountain dell, and if I were going to Mrs White's lawn party, I should claim you for at least half-a-dozen dances. But, pardon me," he added, turn ing to Walter,, who stood irresolute and embarrassed:; before the beautiful appari tion, "Mr Richardson, allow me to intro duce my sister, Miss Gordon." Walter ' bowed low, and Miss Gordon swept him the' prettiest'little curtesy imaginable, while she expressed her pleasure at the meeting. ■ . i. Then she turned again to her brother and asked, wistfully: " Can't you come up to Mrs White's by and-by, Robert? You know I enjoy dancing with you better than , anyone else, and I'll save half a dozen dances for yon, if you like."

Mr .Gordon laughed heartily. " What would all your young admirers say, - petite, if- they could hear that, I wonder—to prefer a , grey-headed elder brother to the gallant beaus of the clay ?" " 'Tis the fashion to'admire old things nowadays, you. know," she retorted, archly ; then added, " but truly, you always fit your step to mine so nicely, y I won't in terrupt you any further, though—that is, if you think I'll do," she continued, demurely, but with a shy glance, as if she were half ashamed to have anyone know that she had come for her brother's ap proval of her costume before going out. . ; There, was a world of tenderness in the strong man's face as his eyes rested upon her; and truly, she was as lovely as a •dream. . •' • ' •

~ You always do, Ruby j but, really, I believe I never> saw you quite so pretty before/ he said, fondly ; then 'added, with a mischievous glance at Walter's earnest face, " and I am sure I am liot the only one who will think so to-night. Has Mr Car penter come for you yet?" ''■ Walter started at the r souhd of that name. '♦'•'. "No ; but I am expecting him every moment; There, that must be his ring now 'and I must run for nay wrap;" - - ■•'..;..»■■-••■

. jV'Good' bye,' Robert, rliwisH you would come later. Good evening, Mr Richardson. And with another bewildering glance and •bow, pretty Ruby Gordon vanished from t'leroom. "You must excuse this little domestic by-play, Mr Richardson," said Mr Gordon, turning to Walter, as she disappeared, while a tender smile still lingered on his lips ; " but I have no children, and I have always made a pet of my younger sister. I must confess to'a weakness for liking to see her at her prettiest, so it has been my custom to have her come to me whenever she is dressed for company. But I thank you for giving me so much of your time this evening. I fear that I have detained*. , you longer than I ought." "Indeed, lam very glad to have been able to explain your plans to you, and. I am at your service at any time, if Mr Conant should be engaged, and I can render you any further assistance," Walter replied, as he bowed himself out, and turned to leave the house. In the hall he encountered Edmund Car penter face to face. Ho it was Edmund after all, as he had feared, who was to escort Miss Gordon to Mrs White's lawn party, and a thrill of pain shot through his'heart at this confir mation of his fears. ' Young Carpenter seemed much surprised to see Walter there, and the old frown of annoyance clouded his face as he recog nised him. <

He had not seen him since he had told him he could not accept his offer, but had decided to take his future into his own hands.

'' Very well," he had coldly replied. '' I suppose -there is nothing to prevent your doing as you please." And that was all that had been said upon the subject. Now,, however, curiosity prompted him to stop him, while he remarked, with some thing of,sarcasm in his tones :. " Really, Walter, I was not aware that you, were a visitor to this house." " I am not," Walter replied, " I merely came upon a matter of business for Mr Conant."

"Ah ! Well, how are you getting on, and how do you enjoy the carpenter's trade?"

The tone, more than the question itself, brought a hot (lush to Walter's cheek. " I believe I have been doing very well: at all events I am sure that the knowledge which I have gained will be of the greatest practical use to me in the future," he answered, with quiet dignity.

"Indeed; when you graduate let me know, and maybe I shall have a job that I can give you. Ah ! Miss Ruby, you aro ready ; we have a delightful evening for Mrs White's party," and Edmund Carpen ter turned abruptly from the young man, who lmd shaved his homo for many years, the unpleasant glitter in his eyes,, the dis agreeable sneer on his lips changing to smiles as Ruby Gordon came tripping down stairs, enveloped in a long wrap, a " fleecy nothing" of blue and white wool wound about her golden head. '' Aro you acquainted with Mr Richard son ?" she asked, looking a trifle surprised at finding them engaged in conversation. "I have that honour; our acquaintance dates back ten years or more," Edmund re plied, a sarcastic emilo revealing his white teeth, while his face clouded again as he noticed the light which came into Walter's eyes as they rested upon the fair girl. Ruby remarked it, ■: also the hot flush which the words had called again to the young man's cheek, and somehow she felt as if she wished to make amends for it. "Tell me, please, Mr Richardson," she said, turning to him with her most win ning smile, "were those the plans for my brother's now house that I saw upon the library-table f " They were, Miss Gordon." " And did you make them-?'•'-■ "Oh, no," replied Walter, with a smile. "I am too young in the business to have such a responsibility upon my shoulders. I merely assisted Mr Conant about some of the minor details and with the specifica tions." • "lam very impatient to see them, and I shall make Robert show them to me the first thing tomorrow. Perhaps," she added, with a coquettish little toss of her bright head, " I may not be exactly suited with the arrangement of my rooms. Do you suppose the great architect could be prevailed upon to make any changes at my suggestion?" "I am sure ho would be very glad to please you, if he could do so," Walter re sponded, his whole face aglow with admira tion, for she was so pretty, so sweet, and so natural in her manner that it was a delight to watch her. " Ahem ! Miss Ruby, I am afraid that .we shall lose our first quadrille if we linger," Edmund Carpenter here interposed. He was raging inwardly that Walter should presume to stand there so com posedly and convorse with the young girl, arid he abruptly stepped between them, while he east a dark look of jealous anger at the young man. Ruby lifted, a pair of wondering eyes to her escort at this rudeness, and she saw at once that he disliked her new .ocquaint ance. .. But phe was inclined to resent this surly treatment of a gentleman in her brother's house. :'. . " I suppose it is time for us to go," she said, a triile coldly, aud. <ji?j.wing her slight figure more erect; then she added, more cordially than she had yet spoken : " Good-night, Mr Richardson, I hope I shall meet you again, soon, then I will tell you how I like the plans," and with a friendly smile and nod, she took Mr Car penter's proffered arm and passed out to the carriage which stood waiting for them, while our young architect went back to his humble room in Mr Wayland's modest house, taking with him a gleam of sun&kine that brightened many a subsequent .day. < (To be Continued.) ' ■„

Some Facts About Volcanoes.

Mr S. Herbert Cox, F.C.S. 5 F.G.S., in structor in geology, minei'alogy, and min ing at the Sydney Technical College, gaTe a lecture in the School of Arts on "Volcanoes."' Mr Cox explained that earlier attempts to study volcanic phenomena had generally been attended with disastrous results to the inquirers, as their investigations had led, them to approach volcanoes when in violent eruption. Later investiga tions had shown that the immediate cause of all eruptions might be traced to the action of steam. The steam condensed above the mountain and torrents of rain fell, which gave rise to the well-known mud lavas which have done such damage at times, it being probable that Hercu laneum was buried under one of these • streams. 'Besides these fragmental ejecta, streams of molten rock are fre quently poured out from the craters, and sometimes- flow for great distances; and during' the eruption which took place in Iceland, two streams of lava were poured out from the crater, one of which flowed for 45 and the other 50: miles, entombing 20 villages and filling gorges 200 feet wide and 600 feet deep. A description was given of ,the formation of Monte Nuovo and Graham's Island in- the Mediterranean, both of which had been formed under the eyes of man, and it was stated that in two days Monte Nuovo.reached a height of 440 feet, and after being in eruption for a week became extinct. The lecturer pointed out how difficult it was to say when volcanoes were absolutely ; extinct, for prior to the year 79 Vesuvius had been looked upon as an extinct volcano, and since then it had been known to be dormant for as long as 100 years at a stretch, and Tarawera in New Zealand, which broke into eruption last year, had never been known to be active before,- and had- no sign of a Jjefpre this last eruption commenced, .STtnfwwa

LITTLE FOLK'S' COLUMN.

WINDING YORN.

Little Nellie, a four year old girl. Winding yarn for hor mother one day Gotit all hi a tangled twirl, ■ .1 ( Came to her auut iv a helpless way i With a face whose plead ing charm • The hardest heart would win, Says, " Oh, auntie, please fix this yarn , n j In a quick hurry, 'fore mamma conies in. ( Auntie with patience went to work,, ,'. AP smooth the tangled skein she drew ; With practised hand, gave a gentle jerk. ■~ A gain the thread went sm oothry ana true, Tlien ore that little face there broke •■ A smile most fair to sec; • With childish triumph, thus she spoke, ■; '' We fixed 'cm, auntie, you and me. i

. " Why, it is a3 plain as that two and two make four." '"But I deny that too; for two and two make twenty-two." Little Willie, when he first saw his new baby cousin, gazed on the tiny thing for a moment in awed silence, and then j whispered, " Mamma, is he a her V ;; Never speak unkindly to a child. A_» child's feelings are very, sensitive, and an.: unkind word rankles in its memory, and}; may cause it to drop an orange-peel in your path. • " Bessie, 1 hear your sister is ill. What ails her ?" " I don't know, ma'am. May ba its the diploma." The what, child? : "The diploma. I heard mother say she took it afc school." •, * A short time ago a little urchin in West-' minster saw a shilling lying on the pave-j ment. He had no sooner picked it up tban>. it was claimed by a sturdy carman. ' \ V ourj • shilling hadn't got a. hole in it, said the.; boy stoutly. " Yes, it had," said the roguav, of a carman.. "Then this one amfc.it,,.; replied the boy, walking off triumphantly. £

MORE! CHILDREN'S ANSWERS.

The following are a few more of the ludicrous answers by schoolboys and school-; girls to questions put to them in the course , of their lessons. Thek have been collected,;: by an ingenious schoolmistress as the re-, suit of her experience during many years.' : From the- collection of answers to mathe- s matical questions we select one or two :— i " A circle is a round straight line witb ( a hole in the middle." • " Things which are equal to each other are equafto anything else." i; " A straight line is any distance between

two places." j Under the head of grammar we read : — <f "Every sentence nuist begin with a caterpillar." n j " A vesb is something to eat. - Under other heads we meet with the fol lowing : — . ,■.■• ~ ' Republican.—A sinner mentioned in the Bible. " . 1 } Demigogue.-A vessel containing beer ( and other liquids. Publican.-A man who says his prayers < in public. j Tenacious.—Ten acres of land. The coercion of home things is remarkably ; as bread and molasses. • 'J The two mast famous volcanoes of are Sodom and Gomorrah.

An interval in music is the distance oa the key-board from one piano into the next. Physillogigy is to study about your bones, stummock, and vetebry. The weight of the earth is found by com- ,• paring a mass of known lead with a mass of unknown lead. ""What," asked a Southport Sunday school teacher, "is that invisible power fchafc prevents the wicked man from sleeping and causes him to toss upon his pillow ? " Fleas !" shouted the bad boy ab the foot) . of the class.

Humours.

'A FIRM advertises: "Our dancing slip- • pers for young ladies are simply immense. . \ " I thay, old chappie, can you let me have ; your horse to dwive in my dwag this after-;; noon?" " Why, of course. But why nob J nob dwive your own?" "My deah b0y,..: I'm going to take Miss Dwesser dwivmg, ; and she always weahs that duced wed dwess, : My horse is ecwu, y'know, and they don't match."

Discounting Diamonds.—Sagaciousyoung ■; man to society reporter : " How much will, i you chargh for a paragraph stating that a' 1 plain gold band is now the proper thing for ' an engagement ring ? I have to buy one : for Mamie to-morrow, and, if I could show her such a paragraph, it would be lOOdols. ia ! my pocket."

An inscription on a,monument winds up ; with the following touch obituary :—" She - : lived a life of virtue, and died of the cholera 1 ' morbus, caused by eating green fruit in the hope of a blessed immortality, at the early age of twenty-one years, seven months, arid •■ sixteen years. Readers, , go thou and do' likewise."

Physician (at the Hospital): I congratu-' 5 late you sincerely, my dear sir. Patient / (joyfully): Then I will recover ? Physician j No ; not exactly ; but after consultation we' have come to the conclusion that your case; • is an entirely new one, and we have decided-; to give your name to the malady, provided" \ thai , our diagnosis is confirmed by—the j autopsy. (Patient immediately expires from ! fright.) ■: 'J

A custodian of the Bodelian Library ab i Oxford used to show a cherished memento' | labelled the skull of Oliver Cromwell. A'Vl wandering anatomus, well up in osteology,.; having inspected the treasure, observed in-, j dignantly, "But thi3 is the cranium of a'< youth of twenty!" " Well, sir," was the. j answer, '' what prevents its being the skull'j of the Lord Protector when he was a young } man V

April as it Used to Be.

In a work entitled " The Twelve," pub- ' lished in 1661, April is described with a:! glow of language that recalls the Shakes- : perian era:—" The youth of the country, make ready for the morris-dance, and the • merry milkmaid supplies them with ribbons,, her true love had given her. The little fishes lie nibbling at the bait, and the por- ■■ poise plays in the pride of the tide. The . shepherds entertain the princes of Arcadia ; with pleasant roundelays. The aged feel a; kind of youth, and youth hath a spirit full 1 of life andactiviby ; the aged hairs refreshen, ; and the youthful cheeks are as i-ed as a ; cherry. The lark and the lamb look up ab i :he sun, and the labourer is abroad by the i dawning of the day.. The sheep's eye and;} the lamb's head tells kindhearted minds ; strange tales, and faith and troth make the 1 true lover's knot. It were a world to seb ; down the worth of this month; for it i 3; heaven's blessing and the earth's comfort. ; : It is the messenger of many pleasures, the' courtier's progress, and the fanner's profit ;i the labourer's harvest, and the beggar's pil-;' grimage. In sum, there is mucn to be . spoken of it; but, to avoid tediousness, I j hold it, ill all that I can see in itT, the jewel j of time and the joy of nature. Hail April, truo Medea of the year, ' That makes all things younsr and fresh appear. What praise; what thanks, what commenda-' dations due, , • For tvll thy pearly drops of morning clew? Whori we despair, the seasonable showers -'. Comfort the corn, and chete «£he drooping flowers;. As if thy charity could not hut impart A shower of tear 3to see us out of heart. . «j Sweet, I havo penned thy, praise, but here l< bring it, In confidence the birds themselves will sing it, April, 1887, certainly does not tally with this description.

We believe that if ©very one would use • American Co.'s Hop Bitters freely thoro would bo much less sickness aud misery in-the-world and peoplo are fast fijidins thia gut, whole families keeping woll afa trifling cost Jjyita use < oafii Jt... *.*.•% *«».,