do me the favour to want Tom to see it. things, aint you, Tom? Long while in Cashmere-the Vale of Cashmere.-You know I've long promised you a sight of it, hey, Tom?"

bring in your shawl, I He's a judge of these

"With all my heart,"-going out and returning after a little delay, with her face flushed.

"What's the matter, my dear?"

"Why, where do you think I found my shawl?-this magnificent shawl that I keep with so much care?-that I do not see perhaps once a month?"

"How should I know? Where it belongs, I hope."

"No, my dear-but I found it in our nurse's room, hanging over a chair; and when I expressed my astonishment, what do you think her answer was-the jade! Why, that she had been playing mamma with it, to amuse the baby. Oh, these servants!"

Harper looked at the shawl, then at the wife, and then at the husband, with a puzzled expression, as if wondering what would hap pen next.

"And now, if you please, my dear child, just oblige me so far, will you, there's a dear -just so far as to order in your sky-blue bonnet, and white ostrich-feathers."

"A sky-blue bonnet, aud white ostrichfeathers?" whispered poor Harper. And when they entered the room, he stood staring at them, as if an apparition had started up through the floor, while his friend stood watching him, and evidently enjoying his perplexity.

"Well, George, any thing more?" whispered the obedient wife, blushing and faltering at every step.

46

Yes, one thing more. Just oblige me, will you, by putting on that bonnet and shawl in the way you generally wear them." "Don't be so foolish, pray."

"I beg you would, madam," said Harper, not knowing what else to say.

Well, then, if I must, I must;" and straightway the blue bonnet and white ostrich feathers were mounted, and the magnificent shawl was flung over her stately person, as you may see the drapery cast in a picture of Paul Vesnese, and there she stood, trembling with every breath she drew, and colouring to

the eyes.

"And now, my dear, one thing more. Just oblige me by walking across the room, with your back towards us, will you?"

'Why, what a fool you are making of yourself, George, and of me, too," said the dear patient wife, walking across the room, just as she was bid.

"No, never!" said poor Tom. "Ever what?" inquired the wife. "Ever see such an astonishing resem blance."

"Never!" said Tom, beginning, all at once, to see the drift of the exhibition66 never, in all my life, except in one single case the woman I saw in the barouche," fastening his eye upon the beautiful wife, with a puzzled expression-" though she had not the air of a gentlewoman, as I told you before, George."

"Exactly! But the step and the carriage -the bonnet and shawl, they are identical, ar'n't they?"

"Pre-cise-ly!'

"And she was the most beautiful creature, hey, Tom-the most beautiful creature, and the most of a―"

At this moment the door was opened, and the nurse entered to whisper something to her mistress.

Tom bowed-stared-and then stood waiting as if to be introduced to her—his head forward-his mouth wide open, and breathing so you might have heard him all over the house.

The girl heard him-turned as the light of a lamp flashed into his face, dropped upon her knees, threw up her arms, and screamed as if she was going into fits.

"Oh, mercy! mercy! have mercy on me! do not turn me into the streets, and I will never, never do so again!" cried the poor distracted thing.

In five minutes more, the whole matter was cleared up. To avenge the slight he had received, the unprincipled wretch, Millar, had actually employed this girl, and put her into Elsworth's family, and persuaded her to personate her mistress and wear her clothes, hoping to destroy the character of the wife, and sure of obtaining what he most coveted on earth-a vulgar notoriety, if nothing more. He had well nigh suceeeded. Another hour! a single hour, and the faithful wife and the affectionate husband might have been separated for ever. As it happened, every thing was explained now, even to the satisfaction of Harper, who acknowledged at last, that he saw no great objection, after all, to a married man being the father of a child by a married woman- -provided, however, that, in every such case, the woman was his own wife. And what is more, within forty-eight hours, the wicked and shameless profligate, Millar, had judgment-not of death, by a bullet through the head, nor even of disgrace by a cowskin laid over the shoulders-but judgment of notoriety, of oyster-shop and newspaper notoriety, for intriguing with cast-off chambermaids and milliners' apprentices-whose letters he always took care to preserve, and sometimes to publish in the Moral Reformer and Philanthropist.

FRANK FINLAY.

BY MISS LESLIE.

"AURA dear Aura!" exclaimed Lewis Marshall, "turn round a moment from the looking-glass, and hear the good news I have brought you. We are to have a glorious sleighing-party next Wednesday, and a dance at the new house, to do honour to your fifteenth birthday. My mother has just told me, and, without waiting for particulars, I ran away immediately to let you know."

"I am much obliged to you," replied Aura; "but, of course, I knew it before you did. The Miss Dawsons first proposed it. Poor girls! they are completely out of their element in this dull country place, and are glad to start any thing by way of variety.My mother wished us to have the party here at home; and it was only this morning that she consented to its taking place at the new house, which is certainly a preferable arrangement, as we can then have the pleasure of sleighing as well as dancing."

Lewis. To be sure; and the sleighing is the best part of the pleasure. The snow is in fine order, and we shall go like streaks of lightning. Well, the first thing to be done is to invite all the neighbours.

VOL. I.

Aura. All!

Lewis. I mean, all the boys and girls. I may as well start at once, and go round in the sleigh with the invitations. I like to see the happy faces on such occasions.

Aura. Stay, Lewis, and listen to me. This is my birthday party, and I am determined it shall be select.

Lewis. That is one of the words you have learned at the boarding-school; I am tired of it already. We never were select before, and why should we be so now? Come, let us, however, make a beginning with the invitations. Where shall I go first? To Big 'Possum, or to Hominy Town?

Aura. As to Big 'Possum, I intend, for the rest of my life, to cut every man, woman, and child, in that whole settlement; and as to the place you call Hominy Town, I won't answer, till you give it its new name of Scienceville. Are there not two Lyceums located there?

Lewis. Lyceums! Fiddlesticks! Two log school-houses, where Increase Frost, of Vermont, sets up in opposition to Maintain Bones, of Connecticut!

Aura. Well, I must own that, after all, the preceptors are nothing more than mere Yankee schoolmasters. But there is Monsieur Nasillard's French study.

T

Lewis. Yes, the back room of his wife's barber-shop.

Aura. You need not trouble yourself about the invitations; I shall write notes, and send them by Pompey. The Miss Dawsons would be horrified to receive theirs in any other way, and so would their brother, Mr. Richard Dawson, who reads law.

Lewis. He might as well read Tom Thumb, for all the good his law-books will ever do him. The lawyers that get forward on this side of the Alleghany are made of different stuff from Dick Dawson. Nothing could have started him west but the prospect of no business in Philadelphia. That's also Frank Finlay's opinion. Now I talk of Frank Finlay, I can certainly go over, and give him his invitation, without the ceremony of a

note.

Aura. Now you talk of Frank Finlay, he shall have no invitation at all.

Lewis. No invitation at all! Aura, you are not in earnest?

Aura. Yes, I am. Frank Finlay shall not be of the sleighing party. Do you think I could live, and see him there before the Miss Dawsons in that vile purple and yellow waistcoat, that he always wears on great occasions?

Lewis. I never knew a girl go so much by waistcoats! A fellow is in or out of favour with you, just according to his waistcoat.

Aura. As to Frank Finlay, his waistcoat is not the worst of him, neither. Think of his head!

Lewis. Inside or out?

Aura. I mean the way in which his hair is cut.

Lewis. Why, his hair is well enough. I can prove that it was not done by a pumpkin-shell, as I cut it for him myself the last time it wanted trimming.

Aura. Oh, then, no wonder it is all in scollops!

Lewis. Well, as Frank is a good-natured fellow, I can easily prevail on him to get over his scruples about having his hair cut by a woman; and I'll go with him to Madame Nasillard, and she shall give him a touch of her trade.

Aura. Then his pantaloons are always too short.

Lewis. That is because he grows so fast. But he got a new pair the other day, with two tucks in them; and if he should grow considerably between this and Wednesday, it is very easy to let out a tuck.

Aura. Altogether his costume is intolerable, and he shall not come to the party.Ungentility makes me nervous, particularly in presence of the Miss Dawsons. Suppose, now, that Frank was to ask one of the Miss Dawsons to dance?

Lewis. No fear of that, as long as they can get other partners: for I can assure you he

likes the Dawsons quite as little as I do.—A set of insolent, affected, pretending flirts, whose father, being unable to support their folly and extravagance in Philadelphia, has come to this side of the mountain, in hopes of bettering his fortune, and living cheap. You were just beginning to get a little over the boarding-school, when these Dawsons came into the neighbourhood; and, finding our house a convenient visiting-place, they were glad enough to establish an intimacy with you, and they have turned your head all over again.

Aura. Lewis, you may say what you please, but even in a republican country, there are certainly distinctions in society, and it is the duty of genteel people to keep them up.

Lewis. I heard Dick Dawson say those very words last Friday.

Aura. You cannot deny that the Dawson family and ours are the head of society in the neighbourhood of Scienceville.

Lewis. I shall still call it Hominy Town. Aura. Nonsense! And is there an estate in the whole country that can vie with my father's plantation?

Lewis. Farm, farm! Aura. No such thing! Nobody shall call me a farmer's daughter. Is not my father in the Assembly, in the State Legislature?

Lewis. Well, and so might Frank Finlay's father have been, only he would not run for candidate when they asked him, as he knew himself to be not clever at making speeches, (as my father is,) and he did not wish to be out-talked by the lawyer-members, whenever he felt himself to be in the right. And as to the value of the Finlay farm and ours, there is not the toss of a copper between them. You'll see what Frank will make of that tract of hickory, when he gets it into his own hands, and also the dogwood bottom.

Aura. As to that, he will be more likely to go farther west than to stay on his father's land.

Lewis. And, though Frank has not had a city education, there is not a smarter fellow to be found on this side of the Alleghany, or any that is more acute at reading, writing, and cyphering.

Aura. That is all he can boast of.

Lewis. No, it is not all. He reads five or six newspapers every day, besides other things. He can also tell you as much about the revolutionary war, as if he had fought in it.

Aura. Ah! he got all that information from his two grandfathers, and his five old uncles, who did fight in it.

Lewis. Well, and their having done so proves that he is come of good stock. And he has at his finger's-ends the life of Dr. Franklin, after whom he was called.

Aura. That's nothing. Almost every child in America has read the life of Dr. Franklin. Lewis. As to the Constitution of the United

States, I believe he knows it by heart. And then, when there are none present but boys, you would be amazed to hear how he can talk about railroads and canals, and steamboats, and manufactures, and coal, and other things of the highest importance to the nation. But above all, he knows the whole history of Buonaparte.

Aura. Still he does not make such a figure as Richard Dawson.

Lewis. So much the better.

Aura. There is no elegance whatever about Frank Finlay.

Lewis. Nonsense! Now I insist on it that Frank is a fine-looking fellow, besides being one of the best shots in the country. Is he not as straight as an Indian, and has he not red cheeks, and white teeth, and bright black eyes?

Aura. But still, as the Miss Dawsons say, he wants manner. Think, how they must be struck with the difference between Frank Finlay and their brother!

Lewis. Yes. There is indeed a difference. Do you remember the story of the backwoodsman that went to a gunsmith to buy a new rifle, and the gunsmith asked him if he would have a gun that, when discharged, made a spitter-spitter-spattering, or one that went jebunk? Do you see the moral? Frank Finlay always goes je-bunk, and is of course far preferable to Dick Dawson, with his spitterspitter-spattering.

Aura. I suppose you mean that he has the most energy.

Lewis. Come now, Aura, do be good! Away with all this folly, and let poor Frank join the party.

Aura. Upon farther consideration,Lewis. (Patting her shoulder.) Ah! that's right! I knew you would at last listen to

shall not be happy if Frank Finlay is before my eyes all the time. If he is present, my pleasure will be entirely destroyed; and I am sure my brother Lewis would be sorry if that were the case. (Taking his hand.)

Lewis. Well, as it is your own party, I suppose you must have your own way. But you had better not inform my mother that Frank Finlay is to be left out. You know, when my father first came to this settlement, (long before you and I were born) he had some difficulty about paying government for the land (for it was bought from the United States); but Mr. Finlay lent him money, and helped him out, and made all easy.Though my father is now a rich man, and needs no assistance from any one, still his gratitude and friendship for the Finlay family are as warm as ever.

Aura. My mother need not know whether or not Frank is invited, unless you tell her.

Lewis. I have too much honour in me to tell tales of a girl, however bad she may be. Aura-sister Aura, I wish I could see you once more the innocent, good-humoured, pleasant little thing, that gladdened all our hearts, before you went to the boardingschool, and before you knew the Dawsons; when you loved everybody, and every one loved you; when you were happy to mix with the other farmers' children, and to do as they did; when you had no accomplishments, and no airs, and when you delighted in reading the Arabian Nights. Do not you think you were much happier in those days? I too had a year's schooling in Philadelphia, but it did not make a fool of me. Boys are certainly much more sensible than girls.

Aura. Well, comfort yourself with that, and leave me to write my notes in peace.

Lewis. I shall be sixteen next June, and when my birth-day comes, what a barbacue I'll have! Frank Finlay shall be president of the feast, and not any of the name of Dawson shall show their faces at it.

Mr. Marshall, the father of Lewis and Aura, was now at the seat of the State Government, attending to his duty in the Legisla

ture.

He had built a large house on some land that he had recently purchased and improved, about seven miles from his present residence. To this place he proposed removing with his family in the spring, and here the birth-day party, now in agitation, was to be celebrated, as the new house afforded the accommodation of a very large room for dancing, and another for eating; and in going thither and returning, they could have the enjoyment of a sleigh-ride.

Being vexed and mortified at the exclusion of his friend Frank, and therefore unwilling to see him, Lewis volunteered to go to the new house three days before the party, and make it ready for the reception of the company, while Aura remained at home, and as