OS DOLLAR PER ANNUM, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. TOAVANDA: Zliarsiiiin lUortiino, YUnnb 19. 1857. Sflcdfb poetrn. A FIRESIDE SONG. BY CALDKK CAMPBELL. Give Hope place Reside onr evonine-fire ; 'Twill add a wanner relish to his glow. And Bring oat pictures from the .smouldering pyre Which darkness and despair can never show : 'Twill breathe of Might that ushers the glad Day, Aud the white Winter followed by green May. 'Twill draw forth images of suns that rise Front the dark !>osom of the passing niist— Of smiling glances drying tearful eyes. And wau cheeks into roses new health-klst; Hope is not always false, wlute'er men say, Siuce after Winter fuUoivs green May. - Old is the night, but colder is the street— Im thankful for the fagot in the grate ; And dwell on every mercy thou dost meet. Blessing the hand which spares the griefs that wait, ! On many a sufferer, iu whose sterner way I.lagers the Winter longer than the May. Thank God for this, that Hope hath come from Him, j And nestles in oar hearts, like birds that find "Neath some kind thatch shelter from hail storm grim. 1 Ynd food where stacks of corn keep oft" the wind : Stay, heavenly Hope ! and teach us well to pray That Winter may be followed by green May 1 Sf 1 f fIC b Calf. i mmmi Sj| OR, FEMALE INFLUENCE. BY CATHERINE M. T HOW BRIDGE. Iu a cool airy chamber of a neat country telling, sat a drooping invalid, reclining fetb , almost helplessly, in a large easy chair.— the beautiful hectic on the otherwise pallid Treks, proclaimed the victim of cousumptiou. 0 a low ottoman at her feet, was seated a tai.g girl of ten summers. They were sis >. The elder had beeu not only a sister, but . m j mother to the younger, who retained no 'Taction of the tender parent iu whose arms r infancy was cradled. Vet had she scarce inissad a mother's care, so faithfully had -.at elder sister performed to her a mother's , ;.art. Hut now she too was smitten down, aud ci! did Ellen Hastings know that they soon part ; for her sister Clara had uot cou j'.ai from her the certainty of the painful - :i which must take place. She had • spokcu to Ellen of her own departure, .ii;a'y as she would of an anticipated jour- Iu this way the fair young girl had bc c familiar with the idea, aud thoughts of invested with such terror, had beeu rob i.aif their gloom, wheu she saw how calmly, " ;-'.:ngly and confidingly her sister could eu- j the dark valley. If this calmness was ev- ; • n danger of being ruffled, it was when Cla "light of her darling Ellen, who clung to : vii.glv as the tender vine clings to the inn support about which it twines. S . Ellen had taken her seat upon the ot a:. no word had broken the sileuee, but in ging glances bad spoken volumes of •ro.iv. affection aud teuder regret. The face ; e invalid was expressive of a yearning j 'triass, not unmixed with a shade of anxi-, 'j. as her thoughts were busy with the com- ( -• M jiaration. The countenance of Ellen ex -nJ intense afTectioirand sorrowful appre- j • GOD. At last the silence was broken by j G . who spoke as if all that had been pass - . the mind of each had found utterance i and she was but continuing the sub ' a which they had beeu commuuiug. Kar Eilen, I want you t/un to remember | t'.ings," .-he said. •' v much was expressed by that siuple , To Ellen it sjtoke of the time wheu the n so dreaded should actually have ta- j and she would no longer be shelter- , .1 blest by the tender, watchful love that -• and for her from the hour wheu the cold • all heavily upon the coffin of her mother, j •' ' a brief moment the poor girl hid her j a Ur sister's lap. and a couvulsive sob, , : r-sscd broke from her. But soon she ! hor head, aud trie*! to say calmly— at \ t dear s btcr, that vou wish me -Mirer.'" 'Tto i iiings. mv love. And yet both can in four short words, so that yon ' " 8-ways remember thein. I want yon to ' -me that vou will ever strive, l>oth to 1 -" 1 and to do good. Only four words— 1 ? "1 Do goodf But could I know that [ " Y express would 1m? embodied iu your ! tV. how calmly and hopefully could I you, for I should be sure that your feet Lever stray into any devious path of sin j - r Will vou try to remember these four ■ " b and" practice the two maxims com- 1 iii tlem V ! v ,ip ar replied Ellen. "I know ' drive to bo good, but bow can a little *•> me do good a a;a:-.v wiy>, mv love, if with sweet hu- J'• truthful earnestness yon strive to do * r t:! you of one way. Ever cherish -r art true and riirlit sentiments, and 2 ; rover occasion occurs for giving ut io :r> s ieh sentiments, never shrink from 1 -~' Ir. this way you will always exert t r . v 'r.iaence upon those with whom you Perhaps at another time I may tell •-•.her wars in which even a little girl, ► '- 7 io •'.>,t " " ' L ;•' other time never earae. A violent f. -,'b . g was induced by the exertion of d After it was over, the invalid was . • exhausted, to her couch, from which '■ rv.se again It was the last time L *'*' left alone with her sister. One obl r more experienced now constantly took w- • * vTh .-h she had so fmjneutly oceopi- L After tbi*. every attempt to con- , "tressed the fast failing iuvalid, aud | THE BRADFORD REPORTER. these proved to be her dying words, her part ing counsel to the stetef she bad so fondly cherished. As such, they made a deep and in dellible impression upon Ellen, who had always listened to her sister as to au oracle of wis dom, and who now treasured in the depths of her heart these her last words. Ellen felt very sad and louely after the death and burial of her sister. She took it so much to heart, that she grew thin and pale, and looked only like the shadow of her former self. Ilcr father watched this state of things with much anxiety ; for Ellen was now the only treasure left him, and be was disposed to guard her with the tenderest care. He resolved to change the scene, and divert her thoughts from the deep grief which Was preying npou both mind and body, by sending her to spend a few weeks at the*house of a friend, who had a large family of children, some younger and some older thau Ellen. Mr. Hastings felt sure that the society which his daughter would fiud there, would soon dissipate the saducss which oppressed the mind of the bereaved girl. When Ellen arrived at Mr. Herbert's she found there a lively group; for to his own large family were added, besides Ellen nasL ings, the sou and daughter of a distaut rela tive At first, Ellen felt little disposed to join iu the mirth and gaiety which always reigns where such a group of children, buoyant with health aud happiness, are collected. But she was naturally of a sociable and lively disposi tion. and though her mirthfulness was temper ed and subdued by the remembrance of her re membrance of her recent affliction, she was soon ready to join cheerfully, and with a keen relish, in the occupations aud amusements of her young companions. Ellen soon made friends with all, not except ing Arthur and Lucv Donning, who like her self were enests at the hospitable mansion of Mr. Herbert. Arthur Dunning possessed a fine How of spirits and a ready invention, which added much to the enjoyments of the juvenile circle of which he was for the time being a member. If a new feature added zest to an old and almost worn out form of recrea tion, Arthur was usually the inventor of it.— Or if a ready sally of wit threw the circle in to a convulsive fit of laughter, he was the au thor of it. But it must also be confessed that he was somewhat reckless and mischievous.— If at times, he greatly promoted the enjoyment of his companions, he, at other times, greatlv marred it by the mischievous tricks, which lie delighted to plav upon them. At last, the ob servation was frequently made that Arthur Dunning would be a first rate fellow, if he was not so full of his tricks. One day, when Ellen entered the nurserv, she found it occupied only by little Mary Her bert, who was very busy in erecting what she considered a very imposing edifice with the materials furnished by a box of building block . She was putting the finishing tuu.li on the work when Eilen entered. Mary turned round, and seeing who it was she exclaimed triumph antly. "There, Ellen, i-n't that first-rate ?" "It is very well done," said Ellen. What is it'!—a church ?" " A church ! —no !" said Mary, almost in dignantly. "Don't you see it is a great facto ry ? It looks almost just like those Sarah and I saw last week, when father took us to C.— I w ill go and ask Sarah if it don't. Where is she ? do you kuow " She was iu the garden when I came in." "I wiil go and a.-k her to come here. Won't you stay here till I come back, and sec what she says to it ?" Ellen good humoredly promised to comply with this request. Scarcely hud Mary left the room when Ar thur entered it. As soon as he saw the pile of blocks which Mary had denominated a fao torv, he turned to Ellen, and said, " Who did that !" " I.ittle Mary did it, she calls it a factory." " A factory ! ha ! I will just tumble it over and see what Mary will say when she gets back." Arthur advanced towards the miniature fac tory to execute his intention. But Eiica sprang towards him, and before his fi>ot had touchtd it, laid her hand on his arm, saying earnestly and pleadingly, " Arthur, I wouldn't do it." Arthur arrested by the earnestness of her manner, stopped short, and looking her in the , face, said, " Why not, Ellen T For a moment, Ellen hesitated what reply | to make. But as she stood there, uncertain what answer to give to this interrogation, a ' scene was suddenly presented to her mind, which almost dimmed her eyes with tears. — i She was not in the nursery at Mr. Herbert's j but she was in that sacred well-remembered chamber, seated on a low ottomau by the side of her sister. She heard her say, " Ever c'uer i.-h ih your own heart true and right sentiments, and when a proper occasion occurs for giving utterance to such sentiments, never shrink from doing so." The scene faded, and the re ality was once more before her. Arthur Dun ning was by her side, and he had asked her why he should not overturn the playhouse reared by Mary Herbert. Was not this a proper occasion for uttering the true and right sentiuieuts she felt iu relatiou to such deeds ? surefv it rnnst be so. and she would not hesi tate, though perhaps the high-spirited and reckless Arthur would only laugh at her. The tender recolection which had been called up, probablv added persuasiveness to her manner, as with "her hand still resting upon Arthur's arm. she replied. "Oh because Mary thinks so much of it, aud of showing it to Sarah. It will make her verv unhappy if it knocked down before Sarah sees it ; and vou know it is always a sad thing to make others tin happy. It is so much bet ter to try to make them happy " Arthur looked earnestly at Ellen ; but he did not langh at her. as she almost feared he would On the contrary, he said in a subdued voice ; " I know yon are right, Ellen : I will not kuock it ilowu." PUBLISHED EVE[IV THURSDAY AT I'OWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH. Ellen's words and manner made a much deeper impression than she was aware of.— After this, wheu Arthur was about to perpe trate any inisehievous trick, it seemed to him as if a gentle band was laid on his arm, and a soft, persuasive voice said, "Arthur, I wonld j n't do it and lie could not do it. The con sequence was, his young companions soon be gan to wonder how it happened that Arthur had so suddenly abandoned all his late tricks, and become so agreeable a companion. But no oue, not even Ellen, guessed the cause.— She was too modest to attribute an energy so potent to the few words she had spoken in the nursery. j Six years passed away, and FAlen Hastings was no longer a child, for she bad bloomed in to womanhood, having reached the golden age of the novelist, sweet sixteen. Hut during these winged years, which in their Bight had borne her so rapidly to this point,she had nev er forgotten her beloved sister Clara or her parting counsel. To be good and to do good, i had been her constant and noble aim. Stich an aim could not fail to give a moral elevation and dignity to her whole character, which greatly enhanced those natural charms with which she had been endowed in uo stinted measure. When Ellen was sixteen, it so chanced that she spent a few days with a friend who resided in a city where was located a flourishing col lege. One evening, during this visit, she was introduced to a small and select circle of inti mate friends, among whom were two or three of the college students. One of these was no other than her old playmate at Mr. Herbert's, Arthur Dunning. But .Ellen did not recog uize him. They had not met since that time, and as that meeting had made no particular impression upon her mind, it was almost for gotten. When introduced to Mr. Dunning, no suspicion of ever having met him betore cross ed her tnind. Not so, however, with Arthur Dunning.— The impression made upon his mind had l>een far deeper, and therefore uot so easily effaced by the lapse of years. As soou as Klieu was introduced to him as Miss Hastings, he was struck with something familiar in the glance which met his, and iu the toues of the voice which fell on his ear. They seemed to have a strange connection with some scene of the past, though all was dim and indistinct, lie could not recall where he had met that glance and heard those tones. T or half an hour after this introduction, Ar thur Dunning puzzled and wearied hiiuself by chasing this phantom of the past. Sometimes it would almost assume a tangible shape and he would think he was about to seize it, when it wonld elude his mental grasp, seeming as airy and intangible as ever. At length, oue of the party with whom Nliss Hastings was on terms of familiar intimacy, ad dressed her as " Ellen, my dear " In a mo ment the misty veil was r-moved from the inind of Arthur Dunning, aud he mentally exelaim- C i, | " I have it, I have it now ;it is Ellen II is tings," and internally the whole scene iu the nursery at Mr Herbert's came up before him. i"lt is the very same. I was sun* that her countenance and the toues of her voice were strangely familiar, and equally sure that they were connected with some cherished recollec tion of the past. Ah ! that fortnight at Mr llcrliert's—how well do I recollect it ! Ellen Hastings was my good angel then." Towards the close of the evening. Arthur contrived to get by the side of Ellen, aud also to draw her into a free and animated conver ; satiou. lie was aliout to call to her mind their former acquaintance, when the attention of both was arrested by the conversation of the other members of the little group. Certain college regulations which were re garded by many of the students as very un reasonable, onerous and arbitrary, had occa sioned a dissatisfaction so general, that a plan was forming and being openly discussed, to resist them The disaffected students imagin ed they were so strong in numbers and influ- I litre, that if they combined in this movement, they should overawe the college officers, aud compel them to modify the odious regulations. In this way they thought to escape the dis grace usually resulting from rebellion against ! college laws. j Tiie plan hail been boldly discussed by a portion of the students for some time, aud : those present did uot hesitate to bring it fur ! ward and combat its reusability, in the select circle there gathered, Arthur Dunning, who I was naturally somewhat impatient of restraint, had beeu inclined to sympathize with the dis affected party, and had serious thoughts of joining them, should their plan be carried into i execution. The subject was discussed with much ani mation and earnestness by those present, and a variety of opinious w ere expressed in rela tion to it. After listening to the rest for some time. Arthur suddenly turned to Ellen, and | said. " What do you think of this measure, Miss Hastings ? Would you advise us to join the party who are about to adopt it ?" *• I wouldn't do it," replied Ellen, earnestly, though her cheeks were instantly after suffus ed with blushes, as she thought how frankly she had expressed her apiuiou to au eutire stranger. The words torched an electric chord in the mind of Arthur Dunning.— ** I wouldn't do it.*' He was instantly transferred by them back to childhood's days. Once more he was in the nursery at Mr Herbert'*- The hand of the speaker was laid pleadingly, arresting!/ an his arm. He could hardly persuade himself that he did not feel Us gentle pressure. At last he roused, himself from his musings sufficiently to recollect that the silence which followed Miss 1 lasting's last words might seem to her long and strange. Almost mechanically he inquir ed. " Why not Ellen hesitated. Was he called npon to express to Mr. Dunning,"Stranger as he was, the sentiments she heid on sueh .-.abiects?— Then again the words of her dying siter were brought to her tniud. She was sure these sea tiweuta were just aud right. Why should she "REiSARDEESS or DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." hesitate to utter them, when called upon to do so ? She replied— " I cannot approve of resistance to rightful authority. I know there are young men who under certain circumstances, regard such a coarse as mauly. But to me it seems exactly the contrary. No course is so truly mauly in a young man, as that of yielding gracefully and unhesitatingly to the authority of those who by virtue of their office have a right to claim obedience from him. If the regulations seem somewhat arbitrary, the manliness and self-command which yields obedience becomes only the more evident." " But are there no cases in which arbitrary rule should be resisted." " I will not take it upon myself to answer this <|ues tion iu the negative. Allowing that such cases do occur, it does not seein to me this is one of them. I think that every mem ber of the college who joins in this scheme of resistance, will one day regret it. More ma ture years will show him that he was hasty and impetuous." Arthur Dunning listened to Ellen's words as to au oracle, though certainly there was nothing oracular in the manner iu which they were uttered ; for that manner was singularly modest and unassuming, robbing her words of wisdom of anything which could appear like dictation. As Arthur remained silent, Ellen continued ; " Pardon me, sir, if I have expressed my opinions too frankly. My only excuse is, that you asked for such an expression of them." " And I thank you most sincerely for grant ing that request," replied Arthur, warmly. No further opportunity for conversation with Ellen was presented that evening, and Mr. Dunning parted with her without reveal ing the fact that he was the Arthur of by-gone years. But Ellen's frank protest against the pro posed scheme of rebellion was not without its effect on Arthur Duuning. The plan was at last carried out by a portion of the students, who hoped that their number and respectabili ty would shield them from disgrace. But this hope proved delusive. The officers of the col lege were uot so easily overawed. Those who enlisted in the scheme were driven to the al ternative of making a humble confession of their error, and promising obedience to the very regulations against which they had rebel led, or of being in disgrace. But Arthur Dunning was not of tlieir num ber. lie pondered seriously the words which Ellen had spoken, and the result was that he did not do it, but at the expiration of his col lege course graduated with distinguished honor Five years pass away, and Ellen Hastings is spendiug some at the house of another friend, in a city many miles distant from the one to which the brief visit just chronicled was made. Here again it was her fortune to meet with Arthur Dunuiug. He was introduced to I her at a large juirty which she attended soon after her arrival. But she failed to recognize in the popular and pleasing young lawyer, wbos talents and eminent social abiiities ha ! made him a universal favorite, the high-spirit ed and mischievous Arthur Dunning of child hood's memory, or the youug collegian with whom she had jiassed but one brief evening. Not so witli Arthur. He was not now j>er plexed by dim recollections of the past as he had been on the former occasion, but at once recognized in M iss Hastings, the fair mentor of former years. Arthur now sought the ac quaintance of Miss Hastings, and fortune seemed to favor his wishes j for he frequently met her in general society. But though he constantly sought opportunities for intercourse with her, yet his attentions were so quiet and unobtrusive, that they excited no particular observation. He was often on the joint of alluding to their former meetings, but some thing always seemed to hold him buck, and he continued to suffer Elleu to suppose that they had receutly met for the first time. Ellen was herself much interested in the youug lawyer, whom she thought remarkably agreeable. If any deeper interest was awak ened by his quiet and gentlemanly attention, she was at the time unconscious of it. Things were in this state, when, one even ing. Arthur and Elleirchanced to meet in a small and select circle. Early in the evening Arthur was called away by a friend, who wish ed to see him on pressing business. It is re lated ot an eccentric individual, that he was always observed to be the last to leave any company in which he was fonnd. At length surue one had the anxiety to a-k him the rea son for this. Ilis reply was, " I have always noticed that eaeh one, as soon as he leaves the eonqianv, becomes the theme of conversa tion for those who remain." The company which Arthur Dunning left that evening, prov ed no exception to this rule. " Dunning is a fine, talented young man," remarked one. " Yes, a young man of mrt talents, accord ing to my judgment." remarked another. '• And of rare social gifts," said a third.— " No social circle among his acquaintance is deemed complete without him " " Too social, I fear." remarket! a fonrth, gravely. "Or jverhaps I should sny too con vivial. A young man of his temjß-ranieut is iu peculiar danger." " Very true," replied an elderly gentleman " It is greatly to be regretted that Dunning is falling into such habits." Ellen started, and turning to an elderly la dy who sat by ber side, asked in a whisper, " What habits " It is said, and I suppose with truth, that Mr. Dunning is too fond of the wine-cup," was the reply. A young lady who had overheard the answer to Ellen's question, now drew near, and said. " What a jfity. is it not i to see so fine a young man ruinod !" '■ Is his ruin then a fact so confidently an ticipated r asked Eileb. '• AH who know him must hoj>e that he will escape such a catastrophe," replied the eider lady. "But those who have watched his course for the last year, are compelled to feel that his : danger is very great." " And has uo one warned Uu of his dan ger ?" asked Ellen'earnestly. "Do none of his friends seek to save hira from im|>euding ruin ?" A young man who stood near, replied, " lie is so proud and high-spirited, that he would only resent such an effort as the high est affront. He thinks himself in no danger, and the person who should tell him he was would only forfeit his friendship, without effeyt ing any good result." " Perhaps not," replied Ellen. "It maybe he would take it kindly. At nil events, the person would be discharging his duty.—Some one surely should warn him." " Suppose Miss Hastings should undertake the office. I know of no one who would be likely to have more influence," said the youvg lady, a little mischievously. Ellen would have thought little of this re mark, regarding it only as harmless raillery, hail it not suggested a question of duty. " Would it be possible for me to say any thing which could have any good effect V she questioned with herself. " I am almost a stranger. It is but few weeks since we met, and after a few weeks more we shall probably never meet again. Even should he be offend td with me, it could result in no great harm." After Ellen retired to her own room that night, the subject was again presented to her mind, and she felt a strong desire to warn the young lawyer of his danger. She half resolv ed that she would do it even at the risk of his displeasure. She now recollected that on more than evening when she had beeu in company with him, he had appeared quite different the last of the evening from what he had been the former part of it. At the time she little thought that the brilliant sallies of wit which he pour ed forth, were in no small degree the result of artificial stimulants ; but now she saw clearly how it was. A few evenings after, she again met Arthur at a large party. It excited no surprise that he should, early in the evening, quietly make his way to her side, for he had often done it j lefore But her heart beat as it had never j done on previous occasions, as she thought of the desire she had cherished to warn him of j his danger. Tiie task had seemed sufficiently ! formidable when it had been contemplated in the seclusion of her own chamber : but it now seemed impossible, as beside her sat the gen tlemanly, graceful, and dignified Arthur Duc niug. It did seem almost like an insult to warn him. of danger. Danger of what? Of becoming a besotted drunknid. Irnjiossible ! That graceful, manly form ! those searching, flashing eyes ! that elevated brow, stamped with the unmistakable impress of genius !—he in danger of such a fate ? It must be the hal lucination of a disordered brain. It could be nothing more, and she would not cherish it. As the evening wore on, the wine cup circu lated freely. Arthur's face became flushed, and his eyes flashed with increased brilliance. Vet lie stood beside Elleu iu the act of pour ing out another glass. " It is too true I fear," thought Ellen. Castiug a hasty glance around, to assure herself that she was unobserved, Elleu follow ed the impulse of the moment, and placed her hand over the glass. Arthur turned towards her, aud his inquiring glance demanded an ex planation " I wouldn't do it," said Ellen pleadingly, as her eyes met his. " 1 wouldn't do it." How those well-re membered words thrilled through his very soul! There was uow a depth of pleading earnest ness in the voice of the speaker, such as there had not IJCCD on the previous occasions. Ar thur was confounded. On those occasions he knew there had been a cause. But what ex cuse could there uow be ? and again he ques tioned. " Why not ?" " Because there is danger in the cup," was answered iu the same toue of geutle jtersua siveness. Arthur colored slightly, and replied quick ly, " Not for rue." " For all who love it," was the rejoinder. I The glass remainea v.nrasted, but Arthur ' escajietl from the side of Ellen as soon as he could do so without manifest rudeness, and he did not seek an opportunity of speaking with her again during the remainder of the evening. This did not escape the observation of Ellen, ami she feared that she had offended him deeply, i Tuis fear -o distressed her that she was start led by the secret that it revealed. She could no longer conceal from herself the fact that she was beginning to feel a deep interest in ' Arthur Dunning, much deeper than she suppo ' sed. or could have wished. The next day. Arthur sat alone In his office, 1 tuusiug on the events of the previous evening. The words >iiil rang in his ear. " I wouldu't do it," and agaiu, "it is fur all who love it!" " Is it jKxsible that Miss Hastings thinks me in danger?" he asked. And something like iudiguatioQ stirred within him. " How could >he have indulged such a thought—one. I am sine which never occurred to any but her. That I should have beeu so insulted, and by IRT too. If it had beeu any other jo inform fcer that this is the third time she has bee.i my kind mentor, my guardian-angel. But where can I meet her. I thir.k she will i>e at Mrs. Lee's party to-morrow evening.— If I do not find the opfrortunity I wish for there. I mu-t seek it elsewhere *' Arthur Dunning wa* not disappointed in re gard to meeting Ellen at the p irty the next evening. Arthur was on the wat< h for an op portunity of addressing her without ljeing overheard by others, but he carefully avoided prox.m ty to her until snch an opportunity should occur. Ellen perceived that Arthur avoided her, and was pained to see it ; for she thought it proved that he bad not forgiven her the liberty she took at their last meeting.— Since that time, the fear that she had offend ed him, had given her store pain than she could Lave wished, am' now that this fear seemed to be confirmed by Lis care to avoid her. she was more than ever troubled by it.— She tri.-d hard to dispel all thoughts of him from her mind ; but -he conld not do it. Strive as she would to banish these thoughts, they would quickly return, marring all the enjoy ment of the evening. At last, wearied with the effort to join in the fe-tivities which sho was iu no state of mind to enjoy, she withdrew to an apartment which had been nearly deser ted by the guests, and seated herself by tho window, the drapery of which served nearly to cnceal her from the few who still remained in the room. Arthur, who had been watching her. though afar off. all th evening, soon discovered the the place of her retreat, and followed her t lie re. She had not observed his approach, and when he addressed her she gave a quick start. Artliur perceived it and said, " Arn I not intruding, Miss Hastings?" " Oh, no," was the frank r**ply. " I hare not bad the pleasure of seeing you this even ing. Shall I tell you that I feared you were offended with in" Have yon yet forgiven mo for what you no doubt thought was an üßpar donable rudeness on my part." " How Jo yon know that I have been offen ded with you " 1 am sure you were the other evening, and I have feared that you -till were." " I will be perfectly frank with you, Miss Hastings. 1 will own that 1 did feel some thing like resentment at that time. But I have thought calmly and seriously of this matter since*, ar.d the result has beeu that i have be come convinced of my danger ; a danger of which no one but you has ever dared to warn me. 1 have sought you to night to thank yoa most s ncerely, aud to assure you that my-elf aud the wine-cap have parted company for ever.'' As Arthur said this, Ellen raised ler eyes to lis face wiih sash an expression of glad surri.-e a.- thrilled his very heart. I "Do you remember the words yon used," |continued Arthur, "when yon prevented me . from drinkiug lh.it gloats of wine "1 am sure ido not." replied Ellen, was too rauih lightened at my own temer.ty, in I taking such a hbertj with TOO an so short an i acquaintance, to n tain anything more than a ■ recollection < J tie general import of the word*." I " You caid. ' I wculd n't do it.' Do voa