trouble about. Let me see-one part of the concert W to bo sacred and the other profane—l hope that doesn t mean that it is to be wicked. If I may choose, I prefer appearing in the sacred part, I will sing eepct ari deeper still." . , , There ran a sort of terrified gasp through the assem bled ladies 31 r Crane, who liked, to be everywhere, and hear everything that went on.. sacked the knob of his stick and chuckled. At last somu one said very fee bly, ' What, that grand thing!—the song John Braham made immortal ?' ' Did he r said Hugh. ' I should have thought the com poser had some hand in doing that. Don't youappioto of my choice V 'ltis a difficult song,' was the reply. 'Do\ ou know the recitative ?' < Recitative,' repeated Hugh, absently ; 'O, to be sure. That is, of course I shall get the music, and my sister will run through it with meat home. 1 don t think jou will want me . t the rehearsals,' he added, with a twin kle in his eye. ' I wish you good evening.' Mr. Carton's step was more elastic than usual as he went awav. Perhaps the fresh summer air and the beauty of woods and fields did him good. At any rate it was with a verv bright face that lie stopped at (he little door in the wall that divided Mrs. Wynne's garden from his park, lie opened this door, listened, and shook his head, but indignantly. Some one was playing a pi ano which was not in very good tune. By and-by the sound ceased, and a little figure eaine to the window, peeped through the muslin curtains, and saw him. 31r. Carton took off his hat, as she inet him at the door. 'I thought you didn't play,'he said. 'I don't-for visitori,'was the reply;'but mamma likes it. I was only trying a bit from 'Oberson.' It is sueli sparkling music, just as if the writer were just so brimful of happiness and mirth that lie didn't know what to d'> with himself.' ' Then you cor. hi n't fancy the man who wrote it dy ing slowly while ho wrote? said Mr. Carton, gravely. ' What judges we are all of us !' ' Was Weber dying when he wrote ' Oboron'?' asked Bertie. 'Yes,' replied Mr Carton, 'and knew that he was.— He wrote it for an English opera company, and came to England to put it on the stage. He left his wile and bairns behind him in the far off country, and worked all the harder in the hope of seeing them once more be fore he died He never did, though It's sad. isn't it ? We won't talk about it. What's that puzzled face for?' 'I was wondering,' said Beijtie, 'how you, who don't care for music, came to know all this about Weber, and to be so interested m it' ' I may know something of the life of a clever man, though ewotchets and quavers were Greek to me, mayn't I?' laughed Mr Carton. 'And how can you tell that I don't care tor music, eh?.' ' Well, you never say anything about it,' replied Ber tie. 'And then the choir—' 'O, the choir,' said Hugh, slowly. ' But then you see, in the foreign churches, at least some of them, one might get a little spoiled for—your choir ?' 'Don't call it mine,' said Bertie. ' They wouldn't ad mit me if i wanted to join it, which 1 do not. for I couldn't spare time as the others can ' ' Why wouldn't they admit vt?' he asked. 'O, I don't know.' replied Bertie, with a little shrug of indifference. 1 I'm insignificant and a nobody, and then my voice is neither one thing nor another—not worth you know. I can't go up to B nor down to wonderful depths, Mr. Carton." ' Will you let me hear it?' said Hugh quickly. 'Are yon serious?' said Bertie, looking up, with a lit tle flush of astonishment. ' Indeed 1 am, he replied. 'Sing something for rnh.' Mr Carton was silent for a while after the song was finished, and he looked over Bertie's music discontent edly. 'These don't suit you,' he said at last. 'I wish yon would let ine get some soprano thing's for you. lam going to send to London. Ah, by t!o way, I havn't told you about that. I hope I shali not disgrace mysclt; but 1 am going to sing a solo at this grand concert.' 4 It's quite true,' said he 4 Don't look so terrified. — Your amateur performers are always indulgently allow ed to blunder. Is it not so? What o'clock is that?' lie added, suddenly. 'I had no idea it was so late; and Ethel will be waiting for inc. That reminds me, Miss Bertie; take my thanks for all your kindness to her, and to me, through her. And now let pay my respects to Mrs. Wynne, for 1 must go.' IV. Mr Carton was a bachelor, and rich; so it would never do for Dyke wood to ofieud him outright. Ife must sing his song; that was, if some happy chance did not interfere to prevent it. It the Dykehanibury mag nates did make fun of them all, they mu t bear it. Mr Crane said it would serve them right for besieging the man as soon as In* came among them; and of course he would make a tool of himself. The ladies comforted themselves with the reflection that a failure would do hirn good; would make him more humble and tractable, and teach him not to make remarks about the choir.— But little Bertie Wynne went about with a troubled face among the flowers, and told herself, with rising anger, that she hated the concert, and that nothing should' ever induce her to go to it. She was thinking this one Evening contentedly, while her busy scissors nipped away bei e ami there a dead rose from the standards, when suddenly a voice, which she knew pretty well by this time uttered her name, and she looked up and saw Mr. Carton's brown face above the wall on which his hands rested 4 lhe loses are finer than in tie,' he said, demurely.— 4 May I have one oftiyjm if I come for it?' He did not wai* for an answer, but raised himself to the top of the wail.and then dropped on the other aide. ' It a so far round to the gate,' he said, glancing at a wicket about three yards distant. 4 And besides 1 feel a "I'- 100 ' h °l slilL 1 nevei- Bee a wall like this ! , ! anll , n; ; J? cl,mb over 5t - Now for my rose.' Beitie banned him the scissors, but Hugh said. 4 No you ww. u m >- buuo " hoi J ,* question quietly, and in a tone which had lost its lightness, for, looking down at her as she obeyed bis command, lie saw her face was pale and fancied her fingers trembled. ' ' 4 What a ruffian of a fellow I am!' said be. 4 What is it: Mrs. Wynne— 4No, no,' interrupted Bertie; 4 mamma is all rhdit- it isn t that. And there s nothing the mutter, only— \£ r Carton, I want very much to say something to you if you're sure you won't be angry.' ' 4 Angry?'said be. 4 We ought to he friends by this time. Miss W ynne. \on are not afraid of me " 4 No.'said Bertie; 4 but-1 wanted your sister to say it, but she wouldn t. She said that 1 must speak to you myself, tnat you would not listen to her Mr r-.wr,, it's about the concert.' ' t0n > Hugh's face changed in a moment. Subdued mirth gleamed in his eyes, and twisted the corners of his lin* at thai 1 moußtathe > b,,t rlie was not looking Ue slid th ' nk 1 Bhall make aworße meBS t,uln the rest?' Bertie did not answer; she was looking away over the woods toward the spires of Dykehambury, some miles distant. 'Mr. Carton, everybody* is talking abort the concert,' continued Bertie. 'You see, it is not the thing as it would be if it" were confined to Dykewood and the choir. The Dykehambury Music Hall is a very grand place, and then people will come from all parts—' ' For fun of hearing what a fool I shall make of my self, eli?'" said Mr. Carton. ' Well, don't you perceive that by such means I shall be adding to the receipts? And as it is forcharity 0110 shouldn't mind being laughed at.' 'But, Mr. Carton, you don't know—' ' But, Miss Wynne, you don't know how I was beset on all sides about th is affair just at first,' interrupted Mr. Carton. 'They have begun to look coolly on mo now, I am aware; so tee how amiable I am to be still willing to help ' 'But if you can't?' said Bertie. ' A man never knows what lie can do till he tries ' said i Mr. Carton. hy, 3-m don t even attend the rehearsals' said Bertie. There was an involuntary movement of Mr. Carton's ; hands toward his ears. ' No,' said he, ' 1 do not; and j have not got the song yet.' Bertie lurried a horror stricken face toward him. 'Do yott know that the concert is fixed for Wednes. ; day V she asked. I ' \ es, r plied Hugh. ' [ expected to get 1113* packet |by post this morning, but it didn't come. I wonder if I remembered LO put in the address? he added with a , spirit oi mischief he could not control. Mr. Carton,' said Bertie, 'don't do it' | Hugh's air or' light raillery changed altogether at these pleading words. He bent down and took the two nor-" | vous little hands in his, and his face was very grave ' You don't iiko me to be made fun of,' lie said. ' You 1 are unhappy that is, anxious, on my account, Bertie?' 'Yes—and Ethel's,' added Bertie, quickly. She hard ! 13* knew what made her add that. Perhaps it wasstme- I thing in his face which she had never seen before; or it might have been the consciousness that he had called her by her name lor the first time. If she had looked at liiru then she would have seen that a debate was go ing on in bis mind. But she did not. He was silent for some minutes, still holding her bands; then dropping them, he turned away, and said, coldly, • I shall hope to see you at the concert, nevertheless, Miss Wynne; don't j disappoint me.' The words fell chili on Bertie's heart, and she took a step toward him. ' You are angry,' she said. ' T have offended you.' ' Xo. Good-night,' lie replied. Mr. Carton never looked back once, but went out bv j the gate this time, soberly enough, and walked away 1 along the park. And Bertie stayed among the roses, 1 thinking she had done a foolish thing; wishing that | vainest of till wishes, for the past back again, till it grew ! late, till the moon came out, and she went into the house j with the heart ache. I . V ' I he clocks in the great square of Dykehambury were j striking seven, and one solitary gentleman was wander- I ing about the orchestra of the music hull. The organ stood ready open and this gentleman went up to it and examined the stops; but lie could not have done nothing further if he had desired it. since there was no one to blow for Inm, From the organ lie turned to the gland piano, struck a few chords, and broke off with u gesture of amusement. Jl was the air the variations of which lie had so unceremoniously cut short for Miss Grafton, flien this solitary gentleman espied in one corner a violin with its bow stuck invitingly across it. A strange 1 expression stole over his face at the sight of this, lie look off his gloves, and went up to it softly, looking round him as if he had been going to do some guilty thing. He had only time to adjust the instrument care lessly to its place, and to draw from it one long chord, when another step came up the stairs, and the conduc tor stood before him. Hugh Carton positively blushed as he put down his prize with reluctant fingers, lie glanced with a comical deprecation at the new comer, who knew 110 better than other people what were the powers of this bold soloist, and said, half smiling: 'Who knows? I might play as well as sing, if I tried.' lie "then selected his corner in the orchestra and took his seat. lie did not care about all the fuss and bustle of the green room, and be sat, indolently watching the take their places, the arrangement of harps and music stands, and the gradual filling of the hall down below, till the conductor came forward with bis baton, and the overture began. Xo one who looked at him would have thought that Hugh heard anything. He never moved a muscle of his face, never looked up even when the first soprano solo brought forth an en core, so clamorous that it had to be complied with lie was perfectly passive and immovable until his owtKurn can e, when lie stepped forward and took up his music. Even Hugh himself could not help being conscious of the subdued rustle that swept through the hall at bis appearance, a rustle of excited anticipation; a sort of self-gratulatory preparation to be critical. He knew tb it there were snides more cynical than pleasant on some faces, and that opera glasses were being leveled at him. His blooi might have flowed u little more quickly in his veins perhaps, as he looked down upon the audience below him, but tiiat was all. He could not see, though perhaps he guessed intuitively, that Bertie Wynne had her head bent down, and her hands pressed tightly together in an agony of suspense for him; for Bertie had retracted her decision not to be present. — She hud found it impossible to sta\' away; and she will never forget the moment when the first notes of Hugh's recitative broke on her ear, and the littlo rustle in the ball sunk suddenly into breathless stillness. Bertie's bead was raised, and the flush of nervous dread left her (ace. She had never heard anything like this before; it was very possible that Dykeharnbury never had either. The silence remained unbroken for some moments after the song was finished, and then the applause breko out in a deafening clamor, that would not cease until Mr. Carton came back, spoke a word to the accompanist, and substituted "Angels ever bright and fair." • ' The rest of the concert was hopeless confusion to Bertie Wynne In the interval she heard dimly the exclamation of astonishment and delight that passed from lip taj |jj) around ly;r; she even recognized the harsh chucldc of Mr. Crane, as lie asked old Mrs. Graf ton what she thought of the choir after that; and she was vaguly watchful of that one figure sitting silent and grave .in the orchestra, never moving, never seem ing to notice anything that went on, and to all appear unco profoundly unconscious of the commotion which us wonderful voieo had stirred up in the hall. She knew little more until she found herself in Mrs. Grafton's carnage, and saw Hugh at the window petitioning for a seat. He did not say much after he got in. '"The stars were very bright, and the air of the summer night was very sweet alter the close music hall. Perhaps although there had been no passage in Bertie's quiet so wonderful as that drive home from Dykeharnbu- I j, 1 V'f. gate in the wall, they bo'th got out, Yi" lL 8 chaperon drove away, with a caution to r. ai ton to see her safe into the house. Hugh took oil his hat to the retreating carriage, significantly, and stood in the gateway, looking down at the little figure all in white beside him. 'Well?' ho said smiling. 11 I never heard anything so beautiful in my life, said Bertie. l \\ hy didn't you tell us?' ' 1 ell you whathe asked; 'that j. once made a living by singing in public? I never said That I knew noth ing ot music it- was taken tor granted; and. excuse me, \ our Dykehambury people are rather supercilious, they amuse me a little. One only, out of all, did "not sneer, hut took a part that would have been doubly kind i! 1 had been the presumptuous tool thev thought me. Did you thiuk I did not know the sort of dead him on, it win he tun.' that posssesscd all Dykewood— you excepted ' \et one evening I was sorely tempted to teli. Do von remember?' '1 tnink so, said Bertie, as •.die made a step toward the house, but lie stopped her. 'One moment,' said Hugh. 'Something else dates from that same evening. My pulses are. riotously quick. I can tgo home till they are. quieter. I began to think, Bertie, that evening, that i might give 1113- little iriend arid counsellor a dearer title. It's very sweet to hope. 'l'm not fit." said "Bertie. •\ou are in 3- pearl ot price that 1 meant to win for myselt, il I could, said Hugh 'Listen: no; thus, with 3'our hand in mine, that 1 may feel it 3*oll shrink from me. .My father married an Italian opera singer, and was cut oti with a shilling for doing so Do 3*oll think the worse of me for my mother's sake ?' 'No,' replied Bertie." •1 have been next door to a pauper,' he continued. 'I have done the hardest manual labor, finally, I have been a public singer myself. Do you think the worse of mc for a!! tid- ?' 111 voluntarily. Dart ie crept a little closer to hi in. which . .was answer • utiieient. 'lr tiiosc rdlent woods and lawns could speak, the 3* would tell how 30U have haunted them .with your I ghostly presence. Come and make it real for me. I j-sliall come to-morrow, and the next day, and every dav until 3 011 wiil let me take 3*oll home. These tilings creep -out, don t they, Bertie ? To-morrow all Dyke wood will know what came of the grand J)\ kehatnburv concert.' ' 1 iiey will say that 1 am not good enough for you,' j returned Bertie. -Mr. Carton s answer as unimportant. He waited j until the hall door had close 1 after Bertie, stayed a little ; while longer, looking up at the light in her window, and then went off to walk up and down fn the starlight | and wonder that Fortune was good to hirn, just as he used to wonder in the old days at the strange grudge she seemed to bear him. Miscellaneous. ENCOUNTER. BETWEEN AN ELE PHANT AND A RAT- A very extra'- ' : .ary encounter between a raft and an ele phant has recently taken pJaee in the (jarden of Plants, London, which w;, w:uu --sed with interest by hundreds of persons : I'l'" keeper- w■ en age lin de>:royina a great many rats, when one of them escaped and ran to the spot allotted to the elephant. Feeing no other refuge, in the twinkling ol" an eye the rat snugly ensconced himself in the trunk of the elephant, very much to tin elephant's dissatisfaction. He stamped his foot and twisted his trunk round like the sail of a windmill. After these evolutions lie stood suddenly still, evidently reflecting on what wa- best to do. He then ran to the trough where he is accustomed to drink, and plunged his trunk into the water, then returned to his den, and raised his trunk; with the water lie absorbed, he dashed out the unfortunate rat, which was in a sheet of water like that is suing from a lire engine. When the rat fell to the ground the elephant seized him and made him undergo the immer sion and projection four times. At the fourth throw it tell 1 dead. The elephant with a majestic air, but cool and placid, crushed his annoying little enemy* with his foot, and then went round to the spectators to make his nsual collection of cakes, sugar and other dainties. The feat was received with , vociferous applause, which the elephant seemed fully to un derstand and appreciate. A STRANGE STORY. A few nights ago a respectable farmer, resident in the I neighborhood of Barton was driving froiu bis home in search of a nurse, when his attention was suddenly called in a field through which there is a public footpath. Alight ing from his gig, the farmer Hastened to the spot, where he ; saw a laboring man had been digging a grave. At the sight : of the farmer he made off, leaving the lantern and spade j heldifd him, and also an overcoat, which the farmer took I possession of. Journeying a little farther in ihe direction of ' lirigg, he met a woman, who said she was going to meet her sweetheart at the lonely spot indicated. Believing that foul play was intended, the farmer drove (lie girl to her own I house. Theaffair is now being investigated.— Jie