unknown benefactor,” and desiring his consent to an engagement between herself and Robert Stanton.  The same mail brought a letter from Robert, saying that he had just made an offer of his hand to a Miss Helen Ashton, who was only waiting for her guardian to sanction her choice.  Judge Fulton’s consent was given, and he wrote to Nellie that before she was married he would make himself known to her, and give her a wedding at his own house.

A few days before Robert left for Kentucky Judge Fulton received another letter from Nellie, saying that it was Mr. Stanton’s wish to be married the ensuing autumn.  To this the judge gave his approval and determined as soon as Robert was gone to enlighten Nellie as to who her guardian was.  This, then, was the history of Nellie Ashton, whom we will leave for a time, and as our readers are probably anxious to return to the bland climate of Kentucky, we will follow young Stanton and Raymond on their journey.  Having arrived at Buffalo, they took passage in the steamboat Saratoga, which landed them safely in Sandusky after a trip of about twenty-four hours.  At Sandusky they took the cars for Cincinnati.

As they neared the Queen City, they noticed at one of the stations a tall, intelligent, but rather reckless-looking young man, who entered the cars and took a seat directly opposite them.  There was something peculiarly attractive to Raymond in the confident, self-possessed manner of the stranger, and ere long he had, to use a Yankee expression, “scraped acquaintance” with him, and learned that his name was Henry Ashton, and that he too was on his way to Frankfort, where he resided.  As the young man told his name, Raymond turned to Stanton and said, “I should think that you’d feel acquainted with this gentleman, you are so partial to his name.”

Stanton did not answer, and Raymond proceeded to question Mr. Ashton about Frankfort and its inhabitants.  “By the way,” said he, “are there any pretty girls there?  Substantial ones, I mean, who have a purse long enough to pay a fellow for the trouble of marrying them?”

Mr. Ashton smiled and answered, “Yes, we have a good many, and rich ones too; but the belle of the city when I left was a Mrs. Carrington—­”

“The plague it was!” interrupted Raymond, “and can’t we get rid of her husband somehow?  Won’t he die of yellow fever, cholera or something?  Or is he a gouty old wretch, who will live forever?”

“You prevented me from telling you,” said Mr. Ashton, “that Mr. Carrington has died since I left there.  But you will hardly win this fair, haughty lady, unless you can plank about a million.  But there are other faces quite as pretty, I think.  There is a Julia Middleton, who is attending school.  She is a great beauty, but, if report speaks truly, she would keep you busily employed in curbing her high temper.”

“No matter about the temper—­has she got the dimes?” said Raymond.

“About one hundred thousand dollars, I think,” answered Ashton; “but one would need to be paid that much for having such a fury as she is, and such a queer old rat as her father.”