geese towards the goose-captain of the neighbourhood. Mother Agnes, sickle in hand, had already started to reap fodder for her cow; and Claude, who had had a draught of milk and had taken leave of Hans within doors, came forth, ready to start on his journey. His rude expulsion from the town overnight had, for the time, driven the girl Jaqueline from his thoughts, and, whether he would or no, he had been compelled to take flight in an opposite direction from that in which he had promised to overtake her; but he now purposed to follow her, though with little expectation of reaching her home in time to be of any service.

Farewell, Lisa," said he.

Farewell," returned Lisa carelessly.

"You will wish me good speed on my journey, I hope ?"

Oh, yes, as long as your road leads away from here, and your bag is empty.'

"My bag has a book in it still," said Claude, " and I will give it you if you will accept it."

"Thank you, I don't want such a present. I should have to mention it the next time I confessed, and it would soon be taken away from me.

Your books have done harm enough among us already. Oh! why did you ever come here? You have sown dissension between me and my dear father!"

He is longing to be at one with you again.Go, seek him, and make it up with a single word."

"A single word! What is that word to be? Why, you have opened a great gulf between us! My heaven is no longer his heaven-"

"Then let his heaven become your heaven. Oh, Lisa! let my simple persuasions find their way to your heart. What motive can I have for trying to lead people astray? I seek to lead them from darkness to light! from the power of Satan unto God!"

Thank you, we want none of your leading, we have very good leaders of our own already— authorized leaders."

Ah, Lisa, if the blind lead the blind, shall not both fall into the ditch?"

for

Really, we are very much obliged to you the supposition. I hope our way is as likely to be right as yours. I believe, nay, I am sure it is!"

“Well, since you will not accept my book, accept, at least, my fervent good wishes. And those wishes are, for your entire union of purpose and feeling with your father. However wrong you may think him, remember he is your father." "I have not to learn that now. Farewell, Claude; a pleasant journey to you, and a better mission to you!"

"Farewell, Lisa. The Lord watch between thee and me when we are absent the one from the other."

When he had walked a considerable distance from the house, he turned to take a last look, and saw Lisa still at the door, looking after him. He waved his hand to her, and she immediately went in.

T is four o'clock in the afternoon of a mellow

IT

autumnal day. The sun's slanting rays light up storied height and dimpling valley, rippling stream and broad blue river, purple mountains in the distance, and rainbow-stained crags nearer at hand, grey, green, amber, coffee-colour, red, orange and tawny. Steam-boats rush along that broad blue river, but, as yet, no railroads intersect the land; an English travelling-carriage is bowling along a high-road, planted with plum-trees and apple-trees loaded with purple and rosy fruit, which the peasants are busily gathering. Within the carriage, which is open, are Lord Coldingham and his daughters, the eldest of whom is reading, or seeming to read, while the youngest pursues

her quiet cogitations.

Isabel Eyre, who is

scarcely eighteen, is to be married at the end of the autumn, when her lover will return from a foreign court; this German tour, therefore, though it helps to pass the time, diverts without engrossing her thoughts. Between her and her younger sister there is all the difference between "out" and "not out;" to Ellen, scarcely seventeen, everything is new, everything is delightful; she wonders how her father and sister can read when there is so much to see; but discouraged by their pre-occupied attention to her frequent exclamations, she is trying to shut up her new and exciting impressions within her own heart and mind. Therefore she leans back in her softly-cushioned corner, notes all, and says nothing; but a continual smile plays about her sweet mouth, and lights up the dark depths of her large, stag-like eyes.

In the rumble sits John Perry. At the outset, he had a companion, Mrs. Evans, or, as she always pronounced her own name, Mrs. Heavens, the young ladies' maid; but she became indisposed at Cologne, and is to rejoin them at Bonn. Though she and John Perry are on the best of