“And this was buried by your Aunt Susanne Le Blanc?” asked Mrs. Purcell, turning to Mrs. Laudersdale again, with a flush on her cheek.

“So I presume.”

“Strange!  And this was given to mamma by her mother, whose maiden name was Susan White.  There’s some diablerie about it.”

“Oh, that is a part of the ceremony of money-hiding,” said Mr. Raleigh.  “Kidd always buried a little imp with his pots of gold, you know, to work deceitful charms on the finder.”

“Did he?” said Marguerite, earnestly.

They all laughed thereat, and went in to tea.

[To be continued.]

EPITHALAMIA.

I.

THE WEDDING.

     O Love! the flowers are blowing in park and field,
     With love their bursting hearts are all revealed. 
     So come to me, and all thy fragrance yield!

     O Love! the sun is sinking in the west,
     And sequent stars all sentinel his rest. 
     So sleep, while angels watch, upon my breast!

     O Love! the flooded moon is at its height,
     And trances sea and land with tranquil light. 
     So shine, and gild with beauty all my night!

     O Love! the ocean floods the crooked shore,
     Till sighing beaches give their moaning o’er. 
     So, Love, o’erflow me, till I sigh no more!

II.

THE GOLDEN WEDDING.

     O wife! the fragrant Mayflower now appears,
     Fresh as the Pilgrims saw it through their tears. 
     So blows our love through all these changing years.

     O wife! the sun is rising in the east,
     Nor tires to shine, while ages have increased. 
     So shines our love, and fills my happy breast

     O wife! on yonder beach the ocean sings,
     As when it bore the Mayflower’s drooping wings. 
     So in my heart our early love-song rings.

     O wife! the moon and stars slide down the west
     To make in fresher skies their happy quest. 
     So, Love, once more we’ll wed among the blest!

ARTHUR HALLAM.

We were standing in the old English church at Clevedon on a summer afternoon.  And here, said my companion, pausing in the chancel, sleeps Arthur Hallam, the friend of Alfred Tennyson, and the subject of “In Memoriam.”

     “’Tis well, ’tis something, we may stand
     Where he in English earth is laid.”

His burial-place is on a hill overhanging the Bristol Channel, a spot selected by his father as a fit resting-place for his beloved boy.  And so

     “They laid him by the pleasant shore,
     And in the hearing of the wave.”