the beauteous stranger boy-with his locks of light- | his former doubts, and, upon inquiry, he found to his

BLANCHE ACHESON.

BY MRS. J. C. CAMPBELL.

(Concluded from page 151.)

the wind, as it bears onward the faded leaves on its unseen wings, wails on my ear with the melancholy plaintiveness of a funeral dirge-the very gleams of sunshine, which were once to me the types of all things beautiful and joyous, now wear a sad and mocking splendor. I wish Arthur was here; when he is by my side I feel safe from all harm; why did he leave me when the dark raven shrieked over me? Arthur! Arthur! come to me, mine own, come to me once again." And Blanche buried her face in her hands and wept.

"My sister-my own sister-" but the words of consolation which Mary attempted to utter, faltered and died away as she looked upon Blanche, drooping like the lily-bell when the spirit of the storm trails his dark wing over earth's loveliest and sweetest. Sitting down beside her sister, and locking her arms around her, and bowing her head until her cheek touched that of Blanche, she suffered their tears to flow long and silently together.

"I HAD a strange dream last night, Mary. Me- | weighing on my heart. The least noise startles methought I was standing with Arthur in the upper part of an old dilapidated building, in a strange, wild country, when we were startled by the most frightful and piercing screams, long, clear, loud and fiend-like, curdling the heart-blood with their terror. On looking up, we saw an immense bird, black as midnight, circling in the air. It wheeled to and fro, flapping its heavy wings, when, suddenly, with one downward swoop it caught a bright-plumaged warbler, which was soaring upward, and uttering again that fearful cry, which now seemed like a demon-shout of victory, bore its bleeding prey to a cleft in a massy pile of rocks, which towered high in majestic grandeur before us. Sick and faint, I turned away, cowering in dread as if the spirit of evil were ruling in the air; when I raised my head Arthur was gone. The bird was again circling and shrieking; instinctively I felt that the flash of its dark eye was directed to where I stood, and I turned to escape. As I fled through a long gloomy gallery I heard the rush of its wings, and gave myself up for lost; in an instant more it was wheeling over my head, and with the same yell with which it had caught the poor bird, darted toward me; for a moment I seemed turned to stone, but as it raised its talons, as if about to dart them in my side, I stretched my hand, and, grasping it by the neck, held it writhing like a worm in its agony. Again and again it strove to turn and bury its beak in my arm, but my strength appeared superhuman, and I succeeded in baffling its efforts, until thinking life extinct I threw it from me. Once more it rose-circled and shrieked once more I grasped it-once more its beak was turned toward my arm, but I bore a charmed life, it had no power to hurt me, and at length I flung it down dead, with its large heavy wings drooping by its side, its sable plumage ruffled and torn, and its tongue, forked like that of a serpent, protruding from its enormous beak. I flung it from me, and wondered that Arthur was not near to aid me in the struggle with mine enemy. Was it not a strange dream, Mary?"

"It was, dear Blanche, but you have grown fanciful of late, and some wild Eastern tale that you have been reading has held sway over your imagination during the hours of sleep. You were not always wont to be terrified by those freaks of fancy; why now give them even a passing thought?"

"I have been reading no Eastern tales, Mary; nothing in the slightest manner connected with that horrid dream; but there is a mountain-load of sadness

1

It was the middle of autumn, and the trees had pranked themselves right gorgeously. Here stood ́one, a veteran of the forest, dyed in crimson, as if a warrior's heart-blood had been poured into the veining of every leaf-there another, arrayed as if the divining-rod had suddenly rooted itself in a hoard of concealed treasure, and sprung up branched and decked with the coveted gold-some, brilliant as if the regal purple of an Eastern monarch had been shed to clothe them with magnificence, and others sombre as if hooded and cowled in the dark garb of a Carmelite. But all were beautiful, as the slanting rays of the parting sunlight fell among their slightly quivering branches, and the flame-colored glory, blended with deep amethyst, lay in long lines in the western heaven, while here and there a light pillar of misty brightness rose high, upholding the leaden pall which was gradually darkening the horizon.

A sunset! An autumn sunset! An autumn sunset in the deep woods! Alone in the temple of Natureroofed by the vaulted arch of the eternal heavensthe sere leaves strewing the long aisles-the light struggling in broken masses through the bright leafwoven oratory-its music, now low and sweet as the far-off sound of an angel's harp-chord, now full and loud as the roar of many waters, woke by the master-power of that mighty wind which uprooteth the forest in its fury, and sighs wooingly over the blossoms of the blue hare-bell in its mountain home. Is there not in the soul of man a secret sympathy

own.

with Nature, that his heart-strings are ever played upon by her mysterious influence? She looks upon him with a bright and laughing face, and he gives her back smiles which are but the reflection of her She pours out the pleasant sunshine, gladdening and revivifying every green hamlet and quiet dell, and showering sparkles on every ripple of the silver wave, and she pours it too upon the dark lanes and crowded alleys of the thronged city, lighting up many a cheek long blanched by sorrow, and sick-honored Christmas-what an inexhaustible fund of ness, and want, and making the sufferer to feel that the sunshine is indeed a blessed thing. It is not until the spirit has been worn and crushed, that Nature's joyous greetings seem a mockery, and it was painful to see the young and fair Blanche Acheson, on this glorious evening, bowed in bitterness of spirit to the very earth.

| friend this week past," said Mr. Acheson, a few evenings after Arthur's return. They promised to pass Hallowe'en with us, that we might talk over some of the tricks still practiced by light-hearted youngsters in our father-land. I shall be sadly disappointed if they are not here, for I like to preserve the memory of old customs, when mirth and hospitality make even the poor and the care-worn to forget their want and wretchedness for the time. There is holy, time

Soon after the night which saw Mick Cassidy so vainly pleading for his life, Conyngham had taken a hurried farewell of Woodvale. Pleading a long deferred engagement to spend a short time with a friend in a distant part of the state, with a thousand burning words to Blanche, and exacting from her again and again a vow of unalterable fidelity, he tore himself from her side. He had written but once, and then he spoke of the necessity of a prolonged absence, and of his soul's wish to be united to her who was dearer to him than life.

Edward Ogilby and his friend were also away. They had been passing the summer months in visiting many of those beautiful places which so justly excite the admiration of travelers from the Old World, and a letter received that day by Mr. Acheson, put the family in momentary expectation of their arrival.

While the sisters were still sitting pondering over the past, and vainly endeavoring to lift the veil from the future, the tramp of a horse was heard, nearer and nearer" It is coming up the lane, Mary, let us retire." Nearer and nearer-across the avenuethrough the gateway-it is behind them-the rider springs from the saddle, and in another moment Blanche is folded in the arms of him for whose absence the warm tears so lately shed are yet glistening on her cheek.

| kindliness and good-feeling is stirred up by the churchchimes on its hallowed morning. How the heart of every member of a family glows with gratitude to God, and with love to each other, as they return from praising him in temples dedicated to his service, whose arches have resounded with anthems hailing the nativity of our Lord. What warm thanks ascend from the well-filled board to Him who hath laden the barns with plenty, and made the presses to burst out with new wine, and how the charity which burns within the breast, makes us to feel that it is more blessed to give than to receive, as we look on the glad faces of the humble partakers of our bounty. Here, there is New-Year, with its interchange of kindly greetings, and its gift-giver riding over the tops of houses, and down the chimneys, to fill the stockings of the little ones. Do you remember, Mary, the New-Year eve you lay watching for Santa-Claus, and saw your mother and me stealing in and depositing your presents? I believe you never looked out for St. Nicholas after that."

"Mr. Ogilby," said a servant, opening the door of the apartment.

"Ned, my dear boy, we were just talking of you. Where is O'Neil ?"

"He will be here in a moment, dear uncle, we only arrived in town this afternoon. Harry met with an old friend of his at the hotel; on introducing me to the stranger, I found that his father and you had been very intimate, and, relying on your Irish hospitality, I invited him to spend Hallowe'en at your house."

Ogilby glanced round while he was speaking; Mary was already at his side, with his hand pressed in hers; she led him toward Blanche, there was a slight, a very slight tremor of the voice as he returned

"Blanche! mine own! mine own! no earthly her gentle salutation, for an instant there was a reelpower shall ever again part us."

"You look ill, Arthur-you are pale, and your eyes have a dark shadow, as of grief and watching, around them-why is this?"

"All will be well now, dearest-there has been watching in the long hours that kept me from youand there has been grief that we were parted from each other, but 't is over now I am once more by thy side; I am the dove returning to the ark, not the raven flying away from its resting-place."

A shudder passed over Blanche; she thought of her dream, and clung closer to the side of Conyngham. Mary had left them after the first greetings with Arthur, and, before they entered the house, he had drawn from Blanche the promise that another month should make her all his own.

"We have been expecting my nephew and his

ing of the brain, a dimness of sight, it was but an instant, yet Conyngham's jealous eye had detected those signs of a passion wrestling with and seeking to hide its agony, and appearing not to notice the proffered hand of Ogilby, he bowed with a cold and stately silence. In a few minutes they were joined by O'Neil and his friend.

"Mr. Fortescue," said Harry, addressing Mr. Acheson. "When Edward learned that Major Fortescue and yourself had been friends, he was sure that his son would meet with a welcome reception."

"Bless me! can it be possible? Guy Fortescue! The major had but one child, a boy six years of age, when I saw him last-and now that I look at you, it seems as if your father stood before me, looking as he did twenty years ago; bless me! but I'm glad to see you. My dear," addressing Mrs. Acheson, "you