him, and gave orders that his arrival should not be made known to her. Next morning he went to the asylum, and by accident, met her, with her attendant, upon the broad steps of the portico. He signalled to the attendant, to make her refrain from giving Laura any intimation of his presence, and ascended the steps as far as he could from them, intending to defer his experiment until after their return from their usual walk. But Laura stopped, and cried out in her inarticulate way, and ran towards him, expressing the most extravagant joy, caught his hand, and at once made known to him, by the language he had himself taught her, that she recognized him. By what means this remarkable perception was effected, he could not discover. Perhaps the carrier pigeon might tell, if he had reason and speech; but it proves that there is more in heaven and earth than is known to utilitarian schoolmasters. And this is the point I was running round after. I was as sure as Laura Bridgman that there was something in the whispered Italian discourse that I had felt before. "The guardian angel is watching," said I, rather abstractedly, in English.

The angel fell upon my shoulders with both hands; and laughed merrrily at the quiet relish with which I had imbibed such a long current of compliments.

"I know who she is; whispering will not deafen me; Italian will not cheat me."

"How did he detect us, dear Frederick ?" "He can see in the dark, read through a book cover; he is a clairvoyant without hocus pocus, sees everything when he is wide awake.”

Ashley accompanied this explanation with such a look of intelligence as called a rosy blush upon the cheek of Eliza, and a look at me from her joyous eyes, which was better than all the compliments I had listened to.

"She knows the whole story. I have no secrets from her. I made a clean heart of it, and it has done me good."

"I'll warrant it has been your salvation. The prodigal was too long away and in misery, was he not?"

Extravagant flatterer! What shall I do to make him say something that I can believe?"

"I will tell you, dearest; you shall forgive him for not having made love to you on his own account."

"I shall reward him by endeavoring to make his friend happy."

"He who can receive such a reward will find happiness, even where others might find misery." "Frederick proposes a little excursion to Rome; you will not refuse us your company?"

"I shall be delighted. We will see Peruggia, the valley of Chiana, Thrasymene, Spoleto, Terni, all

the delightful places, and with you to help us, we cannot fail to enjoy them. Does Madame go, and Papa?"

"Mama will go; Papa says he will take advantage of your good-nature, for he has some jocky business with Lord Normanby, and others. I wonder how they can trouble themselves so much about

races.

CHAPTER VIII.

The British Ambassador at Florence was a courteous and jolly fellow,- begging his pardon. His house was English ground, and he was John Bull, when any of his countrymen wished to better their condition. Marriages, to be all right in England, must be solemnized by the English church, upon English ground, or the ground occupied by an English representative, and if a little more liberty might be desired in this particular, the way in which Lord H. received his countrymen on such occasions, reconciled them to the dignified formality.

A few days after his return from his wanderings of the head, for his heart had not wandered nor wavered, Ashley was married with due solemnity and ceremony, as if it were a matter of grave importance, and not a mere common-place, civil contract. They received the congratulations of a numerous company of friends, some of them looking very resigned, and then set out for Rome.

There are many tolerable books of travel, in which the reader will find an account of a journey from Florence to Rome, which will render it inexcusable for me to inflict more upon him.

THE TROTH-PLIGHT.

BY ABBIE E. REMINGTON.

"The funeral stone is on his brow,
The funeral earth between ye."

'Twas a night I shall ever remember,
The moonlight crept over the hill,
While a shadow lay deep in the valley,
And silence was heavy and still.

And the clouds floated light o'er the heavens,
Like spirits that noiselessly pass,
And the dew-drops lay thick in the meadows,
Like pearls 'mid the velvety grass.

With the hush of the silence around us,
We stood 'neath the moon's tranquil light,
And a heart that was true as the truest,
Was plighted to me on that night.

We had looked not above or around us,

We saw not the eve-star arise,

But we stood 'neath the love that had crowned us,
And gazed in each other's fond eyes.

And we saw that with undulous movement
The mist to the hill slowly crept,
As we said that on earth or in heaven,
Our troth-plight should ever be kept.