velvet. Loop of black velvet in front, surmounted by a bird, heavy cord, and each point terminating with a tassel. Sleeves with rich scarlet plumage. Bow and ends of black velvet at reaching only to the elbow. Muslin undersleeves. the back, fastened by a tasteful jet ornament. No. 2.-The Carlota is also of black beaver; the rim is covered with black velvet, with a narrow binding of blue velvet. Bow in front of blue and black velvet, with a magnificent jet ornament. An elegant ostrich plume at the side completes this rich and jaunty hat. No. 3.-Little girl's dress of alpaca, ornamented with a trimming of gimp and steel. Russian paletot of black silk, edged with steel drop-buttons. The paletot has short sleeves. No. 4-Little girl's dress of gray silk, with a Figaro jacket, corsage and circular. All are trimmed with narrow blue and green silk gauffered ruffles. No. 3.-The Eugenie is of white felt with green silk tulle No. 5.-Dress and paletot of alpaca, trimmed with braid or coiled around the hat, and fastened in a bow behind with flow. I velvet and steel buttons. The paletot fits the figure, and is ing ends. The bow is enriched by sprays of green velvet wheat. In front a handsome aigrette pompon, and white tip are embedded in green silk tulle. square in the neck. At the sides it is cut up, and laced across with braid or velvet. No. 6.-Costume for a young girl of twelve or fourteen. The dress and paletot are of alpaca, and the trimming consists of bands of the same material cut out in a fancy pattern, with silk of a contrasting shade laid beneath, and edged with narrow velvet or a cording of silk. Nos. 7 & 8.-Back and front of a boy's costume. The material is cloth for short pantaloons, which are belted at the waist, and also for the jacket. No. 9.-Little girl's dress of Empress cloth, scalloped around the skirt, and open jacket, and bound with brilliant plaid silk. A tucked underwaist is worn beneath the jacket. 'THE PROMENADE BOOT. INTRODUCED by J. and J. SLATER, 858 Broadway, is the only style for the coming season for ladies' and children's wear. It is neat and handsome. I was an orphan, and Mr. Gladstone, my guardian, was endowed by the provisions of my father's will, with a power even parental in its extent; and he exercised it-for my good, he said, but I could not regard it in that light, and yet he was a kind, generous, warm-hearted man, and he treated me always as one of his own children. He chose to consider that I had a wheen of romantic nonsense, however, and I felt very hardly used. With regard to the disposition of my hand in marriage, Mr. Gladstone had entire control, and in the event of my marrying any man other than his choice, I was doomed to lose a large slice of my fortune. "Confound the money!" I declared to myself fi'ty times a day, as I approached womanhood, and felt how very hard it was -young, rich, and handsome, as every one declared me to be debarred free choice in the important matter of a husband, and I am sure every young lady who reads this must sympathise with me-it was hard! Mr. Gladstone had often pointed out to me the advantages of a union with a certain Mr. Reginald Hawley, the son of an old friend of my father's, and always destined by him for my future husband. I had heard the praises of this paragon sounded-his eligibility as a match for me, for he had a fortune almost as large as my own, had been presented to my consideration till I hated the very sound of his name-I always did hate the name of Reginald-and again and again I declared that I would live and die the sourest and crabbedest of old maids rather than marry any man not my own free choice. Upon the occasion of repeating this determination in very emphatic terms for about the three-hundredth time, Mr. Gladstone hailed its conclusion with "Hadn't you better wait till you see Reginald, Florry, before finally making up your mind? He will be here to-morrow, and I will lay you a wager of half your fortune that before six months you will be his wife." "Never!" I declared, with all the emphasis of a naturally strong voice and considerable temper, but I felt myself turning pale at sight of my guardian's immovable, resolute face, and I retired to my room to brood over some means of escape. I would leave the house-I wouldn't look upon this hateful man who was born to be the bane of my life-I would put barriers mountain high between myself and this detestable Reginald Hawley-but how? Ah! happy thought! Not in vain had I lain awake till the early morning hours, storing my mind with novels and romances. I would leave the tyrannical roof of my cruel guardian, and in the disguise of a poor girl seek some humble employment where, perchance, my natural gifts and talents might win me an honest, true, upright heart to love me for myself alone, and not for that dreadful twenty thousand dollars which had so long lain in my path a stumbling block. I was elated by this brilliant idea, and immediately locked myself in my room to bring it to completion. My first act was to tumble over all my dresses, and at sight of their magnificence to almost give up my project in despair. But to be balked thus | easily, by the first obstacle? I blushed at the thought, and then remembered two plain calico dresses which I had got the summer before, to gratify a whim to go berry-picking, and never once thought of since; if I had, they would doubtless have become the property of my maid long before. I found them, and selected a couple of the plainest lawns I possessed, and, together with some more articles, packed them in a small valise, and felt that my undertaking progressed successfully. I was uncertain about the time for making my flight, but finally determined on leaving the house that night, as soon as it was late enough to insure me against detection. The railway station was but a walk of fifteen minutes distant, I could easily carry my valise that far, and for the rest I had plenty of money to carry me several weeks ahead in the event of my not being able to suit myself in that time. All went well with me; no watch-dog howled the intelligence of my flight; no creaking door betrayed me; no untoward accident of any kind stayed my footsteps, and at eleven o'clock I was comfortably seated in the night-express train, en route for the little town of S It was about two in the morning when the locomotive shrieked the news of its arrival to the sleeping citizens of S and I had myself and my valise driven in the most modest-looking carriage I could see to the least pretentious hotel in the place, and very merry I felt when I found myself in the little room they gave me, and began to realize what I had done. Merry, and yet a little nervous and sad, too. Would they be very sorry when they missed me in the morning, I wondered; and would they be alarmed as to my whereabouts? Well, there was no use to worry them, unless I was a mind to take the return train and be discovered in the morning, valise in hand, and repentant culprit written on my face, by the first servant who should open the door of my guardian's house Decidedly I did not look with favor on that picture, and being dreadfully tired and sleepy, "I hurriedly tumbled into bed and slept soundly till far into the morning. Several days passed, and I had grown rather weary of Sand had many times debated the propriety of returning to my guardian's house, and as often dismissed the half-formed intention as base cowardice, when I alighted on something that revived all my fading dreams of servitude, and discoveries of disinterested lovers. This was simply an advertisement for a young lady to take charge of two young children and educate them in the rudiments of the English language. In vain I had applied for the situation of upper chambermaid, of housemaid, of lady's maid-but a nursery-governess! I had made no application for that noble position, and, I thought, if I can't get this I am surely good-for-nothing, and had better return at once to my guardian and tell him so. I applied for the situation of nursery-governess-was successful, and was at once installed in the novel, much sought for position. Mrs. Crawford, the mother of my pupils, treated me with great kindness; so I was shut out from the blissful experience of haughty and overbearing tyranny, but I should here be consoled by the trials to which those cherub children put my powers of patience and endurance- and I was consoled; that is, I was driven nearly frantic, and a hundred times a day I wished myself far away, and in my guardian's happy home; but then arose the image (or what would here been such, if I had ever seen him) of the abominable Reginald Hawley, and I smothered my feelings, and determined to try nursery-governessing a while longer. My patience was rewarded. Some days after this I heard Mr. and Mrs. Crawford talking over the expected arrival of a cousin -a poor cousin, I readily understood from some contemptuous words that passed between husband and wife, and my respect for Mrs. Crawford was not increased by hearing her say "that the front room upstairs would do well enough, and she didn't mean to make things so pleasant that he would want to stay long." "Poor Mr. Berkeley! If he could but have heard the welcome that awaited him," "I thought surely he would not be in haste to claim it." I was interested in him at once, and I felt that it must be very sad to be really poor and dependent on the favor of purseproud relations. Punctual to the hour at which he was expected, Mr. Berkeley arrived, and Mrs. Crawford received him with more courtesy and kindness than I had augured from her way of speaking on the previous day. She called him Harry, and professed herself very glad to see him, which she truly might have been for he was a pleasant sight to see. He was neither pale nor sad, nor threadbare in attire, as I had pictured him, but a very handsome fair young man of twenty-five or thereabouts, with magnificent golden-brown hair, merry blue eyes, and a graceful, well-made figure, set off with extremely well-fitting but not expensive garments. I gave one lingering sigh to the interesting pallor and melancholly smile I had dreamed of, and then give myslef up to a warm admiration of the genuine Harry Berkeley. He condescended at once to his young cousin's nursery-governess, and before the end of a week I felt that I might without vanity believe that I had won the heart of my employer's poor cousin. At first I was undecided as to whether Mrs. Crawford approved of his evident partiality for my society, but she settled my doubts by saying one evening as we were alone in the parlor together "I think it my duty, Miss Mason, (my name was Mansfield, but of course I disguised that) having noticed how greatly Mr. Berkeley admires you, to let you know that he is as poor as yourself." My heart thrilled at her words-Harry did admire me, then -I was not misled by what I wished, for others saw plainly what I almost feared to believe. I don't know what answer I made Mrs. Crawford-some confused thanks for the interest she showed regarding me, and then I hurried away to think alone--to think and blush and thrill at the thought that I was really loved, and for myself alone. When next we met-Berkeley and I—his manner and his words bad all a new and deeper meaning for me, and when he bent the clear gaze of his fine eyes earnestly upon me, I felt my face flush warmly, and my eyes dropped beneath his look. The tones of his voice were very soft and tender, and when we parted for the evening, the pressure of his hand on mine was a revelation to me, and awoke a thousand delicious happy dreamings I had never known before. He loved me! I felt it-I knew it; and I love him, too, and would not be afraid to tell him so when the right time came. But my guardian! Well, he would be furious of course, and I should lose I don't know how many thousand dollars. I was willing, and gladly accepted the alternative of my father's will. Evidently Berkeley was no vain, conceited popinjay who felt sure of the answer his suit would receive, for he approached his final declaration slowly, and as one who feared to hazard all lest he might also lose all. It enhanced my respect, and love, and admiration to be thus wooed, and when at last, on a glorious summer night, and underneath the millions of sparkling stars (all the surroundings were of a sufficiently sentimental character to suit even my romantic tale) Berkeley told me that I was very dear to himthat he would always love me during his life, whatever my answer might be. Surely my answer was not such as to cause an ardent lover one pang of disappointment. I hardly fear that the model heroines whom I so greatly admire, would have censured the ontspoken and unblushing frankness with which I accepted his love, and assured him of my own in return. "I exact but one condition, Harry," I said in conclusion, "and that is, dearest-that we shall be married at once." The trouble on his open brow vanished in an instant at my answer, and kissing my cheek-it was the first time-he declared that a sultan might be proud to accept the condition. So we were engaged. I was almost startled at the thought when I found myself alone in my room, and viewed in my own mind this highly successful little campaign which I had undertaken all alone and carried through so bravely. I was a trifle more startled in the morning when Mrs. Crawford, quite unceremoniously burst into my room, before I had hardly completed my toilet for the early breakfast. "So, Miss Mansfield," she exclaimed, half angry and half amused, and gravely shaking her finger at me, "So, so, Miss Mansfield, I have found you out have I? and a precious little masquerade this is you have thought fit to indulge in-an heiress of twenty thousand dollars stealing in like a thief in the night, and palming herself off as a poor governess!" Terrified though I was, and though I sank into a chair in a paroxysm of trembling, and feeling as if I must faint before Mrs. Crawford reached the conclusion of her address, I was half choked with suppressed laughter. "Dear Mrs. Crawford!" I entreated, "speak low-I would not have your words overheard for all the world-I have done nothing wrong; and do, there's a dear! Sweet woman, keep my secret, won't you?'' Mrs. Crawford burst into a pleasant little laugh. "O, yes, I'll keep your secret, my dear-a precious one it is-and pray, are you going to marry this penniless cousin of mine""' "This very day, if you will aid me." Mrs. Crawford shook her head at first, but I immediately brought the whole face of my story-a hated lover-a tyrannical guardian-to bear upon her resolution, and at last she relented. "So you ran away, and the unwelcome lover may look elsewhere for a bride, while you are 'O'er the the border and awa' wi' Jock o' Hazeldean '-that is with Harry Berkeley. O, you very, very shy young lady, and this is the person to whom I have entrusted the care of my only children! Well, well, well!'' and here Mrs. Crawford burst into a hearty fit of laughter, and appeared to regard the whole thing as a very excellent joke. With a last-roguish look she left me, and I did not fulfill any of my duties as nursery-governess that day. In the evening Harry and I were quietly married in Mrs. Crawford's parlor, with herself and her husband for witnesses, and we at once took the train for, and were, at nine o'clock, P. M., standing before my guardian, confessing our sins and asking his blessing. "Bless you, my dear children, bless you, with all my heart," said my dear old guardian in his kind cheery voice; "I'm only too glad to see you satisfied with each other and safely married, and feel in no way inclined to quarrel with the means. However, Florry, I must say I think it would have been quite as well to have remained at home, and gone through with the affair in an orthodox manner, But then there's no accounting for tastes. You should have heard the vows she made never to speak one civil word to you, Hawley." │I started as if a serpent stung me, and cast one fierce look on my husband. He looked quite imploringly at me, and held out his hands, "Mr. Reginald Henry Berkeley Hawley," said my guardian, waving his hand, next presenting me to my husband with mock ceremony. I burst into a flood of passionate tears. "O, you wicked, false, detestable, cruel man!" I began vehemently, as soon as I could master my voice. "I hate you; I do-I do! and I shall never forgive you, nor speak to you, nor have anything to say to you as long as I live-never! never!" and to give this vehement and vituperative address proper force, I at once flung myself into the arms of the man at whom it was addressed, and wept copiously on his perfidious bosom. My husband held me very tenderly in his arms, and soothed, and petted, and caressed me, and in short I was thoroughly ashamed of myself. "However," I declared, “ I hate the name of Reginald, and I shall never call you anything but Harry, and I command you from this moment to drop that other detestable name for ever. I'll have it cut off from your signature, if it takes a special act of Congress to do it, and costs every cent of my fortune into the bargain." And having established my character for will and energy once more, we all three laughed in high good humor, and betook ourselves to the dining-room, and a hot tempting supper. ARMADALE. BY WILKIE COLLINS, Author of "The Woman in White," "No Name," "Dead Secret." BOOK THE THIRD. CHAPTER XI.-CONTINUED. "In the meantime have I anything more to tell you? Are there any other people in our way at Thorpe-Ambrose? Not another creature! None of the resident families call here, young Armadale being, most fortunately, in bad odor in the neighborhood. There are no handsome highly-bred women to come to the house, and no persons of consequence to protest against his attentions to a governess. The only guests he could collect at his party to-night were the lawyer and his family (a wife, a son, and two daughters), and a deaf old woman and her son-all perfectly unimportant people, and all obedient humble servants of the stupid young squire. Talking of obedient humble servants, there is one person established here, who is employed in the steward's office-a miserable, shabby, dilapidated old man, named Bishwood. He is a perfect stranger to me, and I am evidently a perfect stranger to him; for he has been asking the housemaid at the cottage who I am. It is paying no great compliment to myself to confess it; but it is not the less true that I produced the most extraordinary impression on this feeble old creature the first time he saw me. He turned all manner of colors, and stood trembling and staring at me, as if there was something perfectly frightful in my face. I felt quite startled for the moment-for of |