but that the mother caught up the lovely infant, and soared far, far out of her sight. And then I have seen her myself positively unkind and very rude to that enfant terrible, young Love! He is sometimes rather intrusive, I must admit, very much given to appear when he is not wanted, and very hard to keep silent when you want to think about other things; but Common-sense shows him no mercy. I have heard her tell him that he does more mischief in the world than she will ever be able to find remedies for--and I believe her. And I have seen her more than once turn him out and shut the door in his face; but the wild imp invariably ran round and climbed in at the window! Poor Common-sense has been so ill-treated, you see, by the world, that she is old before her time, and not very light of foot. Ah, well! we must not be hard upon her, for she means well; and good intentions, although not everything, are of some value; besides, I should be sorry to live myself, or to teach others to guide their lives, by the dictates of Romance. I would certainly invite Common-sense to pay me a long visit, and I would give the excellent old woman my best bed-room; but I would also, even at the risk of mortally offending her, ask Romance to look on me now-and-then, just to give a grace, an ornament, and a perfume to my life, as the flowers I gather in my garden give a grace, an ornament, and a perfume to my drawing-room. We sometimes see a steady, middle-aged man lay aside the dignity of his years, and play forfeits, or build card-houses with a group of happy children; so may we escape now and then from the excellent, but rather tiresome companionship of Common-sense, and glide away with Romance into the shadow-land of Fancy, and, forgetting that we have grown old and steady once more try our skill at building a castle in the air! But how very far I have wandered from hope, and looking forward, and all that; and of course I have forgotten many (excellent?) remarks I intended to make on the subject. I shall merely add now that I do not believe hope ever really dies out with any of us; it is only, as of old, in Pandora's box, buried alive-and we (wisely or foolishly according to circumstances) let in a little air now and then, which keeps it from dying. We are like children, who, having caught a bird in their rambles, carry it home in a basket, to kill it with either cruelty or kindness as the case may be; but they are not contented without raising the lid of the basket every five minutes, just to see how the little prisoner is getting on. It watches its opportunity, and, suddenly with a bold dash, makes its escape and flies joyfully away. So with us: we have not the heart to indulge in our hope, or to smother it outright at once, but go on peeping at it until it suddenly escapes like the bird, and soars far above our control into the clouds. To my thoughtful readers many examples far more forcible than those I have mentioned will occur of anticipations which have ended in disappointment-none the less bitter because we will not acknowledge that it is disappointmentof hopes which died out, never to be revived; but, by way of contrast (if from no higher and better motive), I would remind them of an anticipation which must ever fall short of the glorious reality-of a hope which, if it exists at all, can never be utterly extinguished-can never fail, but will keep, as ever, looking onward and upward to that blessed home where all tears shall be wiped from our eyes. Yes, that is a hope worth cherishing-a home worth winning-a home which, if we do struggle for and reach at last, we shall not look around us to say, with a sigh of disappointment, "Yes, I am here; my object is attained, and yet I am not satisfied." PHANTOM S. BY ADA TREVANION. When I arose, and silently Passed out into the night, I heard the streamlet singing clear, The faint breath of the waning year The Autumn earth was slumb'ring deep, Like bird with folded wing, As the sick dream of health, in sleep Perchance she dreamed of Spring. All things were dumb, resigned, and still, The grey clouds floated past; And stars bloomed out above the hill Fair, tremulous, and fast. I saw the ancient blackthorns three; Untouched by the moon's smile. A phantom palfry ever near I reached the cross of stone; "It would be very lonely here At night, for one alone:" So said a voice where dark trees archA voice remembered well; A shower of leaves from beech and larch Upon my pathway fell. A phantom face smiled back on me, I knew 'twas vain, but franticly MR. HARLEY'S PASSENGER. BY MARION HARLAND. You will be home by sunset, will you not?" asked Mrs. Harley of her husband, as she followed him to the door one bright sharp morning in mid-winter. "I shall try to return before dark; but if I am detained later, you must not be uneasy. It will be moonlight, and, with this snow on the ground, as bright as day." "You will have a charming jaunt! I wish I could go with you!" said the wife, drawing in a deep breath of the pure cold air, and shielding her eyes from the blinding radiance of the snow, that enwrapped hill and dale in a covering of glittering white, several feet in depth. Why don't you? there is room for you, and I should be charmed to have your company. Come!" "Tempter!" laughed Mrs. Harley, shaking her head. "What would baby say to my desertion? and how would house affairs go on without my presence? No; you must be content with Johnny as my representative for this once, and I will try to be satisfied within doors. Perhaps may go next time." I Mr. Harley was examining the harness; adjusting here a buckle, there a strap, and concluded by patting the neck of the fine animal attached to the dogcart. "I like to be sure that all is right, before I set out. A ride of forty miles through the heart of the Peak requires stanch gear and a trusty horse." "You have both!" observed the wife. "Come, Johnny: papa is ready to lift you in." The boy, a merry-eyed, rosy fellow of seven, put up his lips for a farewell kiss, and sprang into the vehicle without assistance. "We have grown independent, you perceive," said his father, smiling proudly as the urchin established himself upon the seat, and made a great parade of tucking the rug about him. 66 "As becomes a young gentleman who accompanies his father in his business excursions!" replied Mrs. Harley. Good-bye, dear!" in response to her husband's kiss. "Take care of yourself, and come back early if you can. Johnny, be a good boy, and don't trouble papa!" The horse sprang forward at the word of command, and the vehicle tolled fleetly down the road. Mrs. Harley was just closing the door, when she heard the sound of wheels coming nearer instead of growing fainter in the dis tance: "My whip, if you please!" called her husband, as she ran out to inquire the cause of the return. "I left it in the hall." "I thought Red Rover never needed it!" answered Mrs. Harley, handing him the forgot. ten article. "He never has; but that is no guarantee that he never will be the better for a touch of the lash. No wise driver sets out upon a journey without his whip. Good-bye again!" How often, during the day, did the picture of the travellers, as they appeared at that moment, recur to the mind of the fond woman they left behind! Her husband's tall figure, enveloped in his shaggy great coat; his low hat shading his kind, clear eyes, and the strongly-marked features she thought so handsome, and the boy's happy face smiling at her over the mountain of shawls and rugs in which his careful parent had wrapped him! "It's bad luck to turn back, and master oughter have knowed it!" grumbled old Sally, one of the fast-diminishing class of faithful servants, who had lived in the Harley family when the present master was born, and knew herself to be a privileged character. "If he had jest made a cross whar he turned round, and spit onto it, all would have been right!" Mrs. Harley smiled, without contradicting the croaker, and went up to her room to see if her babe were still sleeping. The first object that met her eyes upon entering the chamber was a pair of pistols lying in an open leathern case upon the bureau. Really, Fred's humour is a forgetful one, to-day," she exclaimed, taking up one of the weapons. "I never knew him to leave these before, when there was any chance of his being benighted upon the road. Perhaps he did not take them because he was so sure of returning by daylight." "Is the road really dangerous?" inquired her sister, who sat by the cradle; "or does he carry them as a matter of form?" "As he does his whip, I fancy-from principle!" returned Mrs. Harley. "The Dale has a bad reputation, founded, I believe, upon the legend that a pedlar who was murdered there twenty or thirty years since. It is a dreary and desolate route, not a human habitation being visible for six miles, and a forest of evergreens lining the road on one side; but Fred has traversed it upon an average once a week for the last dozen years, and has never seen anything more frightful than his own shadow. It is perfectly safe during the day, being the main road to B, and continually travelled by farm-waggons, and carts from the mines." Frederick Harley had succeeded, by inheritance, to a valuable farm in the neighbourhood-a fine, commodious homestead, and, as was soon discovered, by means of his harmlessly upon the bureau at home. He recollected perfectly how he happened to leave it. He had reloaded the weapons (having fired them off the preceding day) when his wife called to him that breakfast was waiting; and he put them down, intending to revisit the room before his departure. Finding that it was later than he had supposed, he ate his breakfast hurriedly, stopping several times during the meal to add intelligent researches, a wealth of minerals stored in the bosom of the lofty hills, among which he had drawn his first breath. A liberal education and the advantages of travel had given him just and enlarged views of internal improvements, and the policy of developing the natural resources of his patrimony. Within five years from the date of his accession to the estate, a joint stock company, of which he was the leading spirit, had erected substantial build-items to his memoranda. When he had ings and machinery amongst the hills composing the background of the smiling dale, wherein were situated the Harley family mansion and a group of smaller farm-houses. The sharp tapping of the picks and hoes was echoed from the dark gorges, and distant hills gave back the reverberant roar of the "blast,' ," which hurled pieces of rock in the air like pebblestones. Further down the valley arose, as by magic, a tall furnace of solid masonry, within the throat of which blazed an intense fire day and night; while, on either side, a smelting shop and rolling-mill added activity and clamour to the lately quiet scene. finished them, he put on his overcoat by the "Well, Johnny, you may be thankful that I did not forget you, this morning! I left my whip, and, as I now recollect, my pistols also." "Can't you ride back and get them, papa?" "No, I am behind time as it is; for I have much to attend to in town. It is a matter of little consequence, only I am ashamed of my carelessness." In all these improvements Mr. Harley was foremost and most energetic. In fact he was the virtual comptroller of the enterprise, from its inception to the present fruition of his dreams and hopes. Born to command, he exercised over capitalists and labourers a sway none the less absolute that it was apparently gentle and moderate. His fellow-directors solicited advice from him, which, however courteously couched, had all the force of commands; overseers and workmen came to him for orders and redress. He it was who visited the works in person every Saturday, and paid each man his wages; admonishing the indolent, encouraging the diligent, and rebuk-do, ing sternly the refractory and disorderly. "Why do you always carry your pistols, sir? Are there robbers in the woods?" questioned the boy, his eyes growing larger and darker, as he instinctively nestled nearer to his protector. "No; or if there are, they never come near the high-road. But it is safer to have arms of some description with me, carrying, as I often large sums of money in my pocket, and riding at all hours of the night in out-of-theway places." "Have you ever killed anybody with them, papa?" "No, my son! and I hope never to be obliged to use them against any human being." "Still," persisted the child, with boyish taste for the sensational, "if we were riding along here some dark night, and two great big men, with guns and swords in their hands, were to rush out of the woods and catch hold of Red Rover's head, I know what you would do! You would pull out your pistols and shoot, first one and then the other, and then give Red Rover one hard cut with your whip, and away we would go! Ah, wouldn't that be fun?" Dictator as he was abroad, no man was ever more indulgent and affectionate in his home. He had wedded, ten years before, a sweettempered, happy girl, whom his love and care had kept happy and sunny of mood until now. Their first child had died while an infant; and the memory of this, the only sorrow they had known, since their lives flowed into one, added strength and tenderness to the fondness they felt for Johnny and his infant sister. Already the boy tramped up the rugged road to the mine at his father's side, disdaining to accept the support of his hand; stood, an attentive observer of the wonders of puddling, moulding, and rolling; open-eyed and silent, while Mr. Harley issued directions to, or instituted inquiries of, the head workman; and, eight times out of ten, he was his parent's sole companion in his journeys to and from the town of B-, distant about twenty miles from the works. The principal object of the present visit to that place was to draw a large sum of money from the bank for "Like the two men who carried away the the purpose of paying the miners and other la-Babes in the Wood!' I know!" nodded bourers. Johnny. "I think, papa, they must have left the poor little children in just such a dark, lonesome place as this." They had gone five or six miles before Mr. Harle hought him of the pistol-case lying Mr. Harley could not help laughing at the sanguinary innocent's ideas of sport. "The day for such work as that has gone by, Johnny, and I for one do not care to have it come back. There are few highway robbers now-a-days, such as you read of in storybooks." They were entering the dale, and the father | was struck with the child's correct appreciation of the gloomy wildness of the region. The road was narrow; the cliffs almost clasping hands above it, and the unsunned snow, broken rudely to permit the passage of vehicles, lay in hard, rough masses against the boles of the trees, leaving just room enough in the centre of the highway for the wheels of the dog-cart. "It is a doleful neighbourhood!" he said. "But we have had some merry rides along here, and will, I hope, have many more.." luncheon he took Johnny with him to the bank, "There is the nice man that gave me the candy, papa!" he whispered. "There, just outside the door! He has been standing there ever since we came in." Fred Harley's movements were always quick, and he wheeled now so suddenly towards the entrance, that he got a full view of the person who was looking through the glass-doorcaught his gaze, keen and covetous, riveted upon the pocket-book he still held in his hand. Then the spy slunk away, evidently discomposed by the unexpected notice he had received. "Who is that fellow?" inquired Mr. Harley, abruptly, of a clerk. It was noon when they reached B―, for the days were short, and the road was, as I have said, badly prepared for driving, having been much cut up by the wheels of heavy waggons. Johnny valiantly disclaimed being hungry or tired; but his father, without wounding his manly susceptibilities, proposed to leave him in a quiet little inn, where they often stopped for luncheon, and let him amuse himself by dining, while he, the senior, attended to sundry errands about town. To this inviting scheme Master Johnny's face and eyes said "Yes," even more promptly than his tongue; and having seen him ensconced in a snug corner, with a table all to himself, the promise of speedy dinner warming his imagination. Mr. Harley ensured the particular attention of a trusty waiter, who knew him well as an old customer, by crossing his hand with a piece of silver, and left them for threequarters of an hour more. When he returned, Johnny was curled up in an arm-chair, looking over a picture-book which his father had pro-street. vidently purchased on their way up-town, and munching a long stick of red-and-white candy. "Why, my son, where did you get that? You surely did not buy it without my leave, or asking for it?" No, papa. A man gave it to me." "What man? the waiter ?" "No, sir. A very nice, kind man, who came in just after you went out, and asked me if I were not Mr. Harley's son, and how mamma was, and when we left home, and when we were going back; and I told him you said we would not get off before night, we were so late reaching town; and he asked ever so many questions besides, and said he knew you very well, and wished he could have seen you; and then he bought a paper of candy for me." "Did you ever see him before?" "No, sir." Mr. Harley turned to the waiter, who had come forward to receive his order. "Did you notice the person who was talking to my little boy just now?" Í did, sir." "Who was he-do you know?" "Well, really, sir, I cannot recall his name; but he looked like a decent countryman-a farmer, I should say, sir." Satisfied that the inquisitive stranger was some one of his rural neighbours whose face Johnny had forgotten, Mr. Harley dismissed the subject from his mind. After finishing his "I never saw him before, sir. There is always a knot of idlers hanging about that door." If they are all as ill-looking as that one, you had better look sharply after your deposits," was the reply. "I never saw a more villanous pair of eyes.' Not ten minutes later a friend, the principal lawyer of B stopped Mr. Harley in the "When do you leave town?" he asked. "Then will you call at my office for a few moments before you go? I have a package of valuable papers which I wish to send up to your neighbour, Mr. Hinckley; you will oblige both him and myself by taking charge of them." "I will, with pleasure! I will go back with you and get them at once.' As he turned, he found himself almost face to face with Johnny's new acquaintance, who was leaning against the arched gateway of a covered alley so near by that he must have heard every syllable that was uttered. This time his eyes were downcast, and he was idly worrying, with bia foot, a mangy cur, gnawing a bone it had picked up in the gutter. His whole attitude and expression were those of a lazy lounger, who cared for nothing beyond the amusement of the moment. By the time that father and son took their places in the dog-cart for their homeward ride, one at least of them had forgotten the trifling incident of the meeting in the inn, as well as the offensive curiosity displayed by the shabby idler. The evening was cold, but not raw or piercing; Red Rover as fresh and lively as if he had not trotted twenty miles that day, over an uneven road, and had before him the certain prospect of a repetition of the task; Johnny was wide wake, although it was past his usual bed-time when they left the town behind them, and delighted beyond measure at the novelty of a moonlight ride. His tongue ran on untired, in its merry chatter, and his father preferred his sprightly prattle to any other relaxation after the cares of a busy day. Five miles from B- there stood, within an angle formed by two cross-roads, a deserted cabin-a mere shell of a house, with broken chimney and sunken roof. It had not been tenanted for several years; yet, as our travellers neared it Red Rover shied violently at some object standing within its shadow. "Whoa, sir! what are you about?" cried his master, checking him sharply. A tall woman came forward into the clear moonlight and approached the vehicle. "I beg your pardon for frightening your horse, sir!" she said, in a wheezing, husky voice," and I hope you won't think me very bold when I ask you to give me a lift for a few miles. I have been waiting here in the cold for near four hours, until I am afraid I have caught my death of cold. I came up this afternoon from B, in the cross-country stage, and it set me down here, where my brother was to meet me with his waggon, and take me over to his house; but he hasn't come, and I'm afraid something is the matter with him or his folks. Maybe you know him, sir? His name is Moses Nixon, and he lives a piece back from the road, on the right-hand side, about half-a-mile from the mines. "Steady! steady!" Mr. Harley had some difficulty in restraining Red Rover's desire to press forward. He was used to applications of this sort from pedestrians, and saw nothing improbable in the story he had heard somewhat impatiently, for he too wanted to be at home. 66 "I wish I had passed this way earlier," he said, kindly, so that your time of waiting might have been shortened. I do know your brother, and am glad of the chance of doing him a good turn. Excuse me for not getting out to help you in; but my horse is, as you may see, rather restive." The woman climbed into her place, with a hearty "Thank you, sir!" and allowed her escort to tuck the warm rugs about her, shivering audibly while he was thus employed. "I should have been frozen stiff in an hour more!" she said, with a snuffle and sneeze. "Are you warmer now?" asked Mr. Harley, at the end of another mile. "I'm a bit more comfortable; but my feet are like two blocks of ice!" "There is another wrap in the bottom of the carriage. Have you your feet upon it?" and he stooped to ascertain for himself if this were so. As he fumbled for the rug he struck his hand against the passenger's ankle. She wore men's boots, heavy and thick-soled, as he felt by passing his fingers lightly down the foot, and their size was enormous, even for a woman of her uncommon height. Without the least abatement of kindliness in his accent or manner, he added, "All right!" and resumed his upright position. But the eyes, above which the felt hat was slouched, were no longer careless and cheerful. Furtively, yet searchingly, they inventoried every particular of his passenger's attire and general appearance. She was gaunt and raw-boned, and wore a suit of rusty mourning, a woollen dress, a common blanket-shawl, and a black bonnet, with a scanty veil of black crape hung before her face. Thus far all was in accordance with her account of herself as the farmer's sister, and even the clumsy boots might have been borrowed for the occasion by any woman of her rank, anticipating, as she had done, the possibility of being obliged to wait in the snow for some time. Upon her knees lay a muff, wherein were concealed her hands, and to this Mr. Harley's attention returned, once and again, as drawn by some mysterious magnet hidden in this very useful appendage to a winter's night toilet. It was quite new, for each hair in the very common fur of which it was manufactured was smooth and glossy. Fred was a judge of peltry, and he knew that this was a cheap article; yet, in that region, rustic women were not in the habit of sporting such luxurious comforts-inexpensive as they might seem to a city dame. Ten shillings would have been an extravagant outlay for Moses Nixon's sister or wife to invest in a stuffed foxskin, for keeping warm fingers, that were wont to milk the cows when the frosted breath of the kine lay white upon their roughened hides, and to draw water that froze as it plashed over the sides of the bucket. True, the muff might have been the well-meant, but inappropriate gift of a town relation, and the recipient was not to be censured, if she incurred the risk of making her hands tender by using it upon this nipping evening, Just as he had arrived at this charitable conclusion one of the wheels struck a stone, or a lump of frozen snow, and the inmates received a smart jolt. The woman threw out her arm instinctively to recover her balance, and the dazzling moonbeams shone upon some polished substance within the orifice from which her hand was withdrawn. The next second she covered it as before, but the eagle eye of the observer who shared her seat had seen the outline and glitter of that which sent a shock through his hardy system. Could he be mistaken, and was the treasure she seemed to clutch more firmly, as she plunged her gloved hand back into the recesses of the muff, anything more innocent, more fit for a woman's handling than the butt of a pistol? If this were so, then the shudder of horror, the vain, wild longing for the deadly implements lying useless in the leathern case at home, were childish nervousness. If not-if the glance that seldom missed its aim, rarely failed to discern, instantly and correctly, the real form and nature of whatever came within its scope, had not played him false-he was in peril, the thought of which caused even his stout nerves to quiver. He made but one unguarded movement in the first thrill of apprehension, the spasm of deadly distrust |