"Well, I don't know as it was.” "Don't you a day earlier?” wish you had got here earlier just 66 'Well, I don't know as I do : " and Mr. Barton seemed very much inclined to laugh. "Why, grandfather! We are very sorry the estate went in the way it did!" "It could not have been better disposed of," was the singular reply. The Howards were astonished; they knew not what to think of all this. But at this moment another knock was heard at the door, and Henry ushered in the "horrid Mr. Jenkins," amid the stifled exclamations, "A disagreeable fellow!" "I wish he'd keep away to-night!" "send him off quick, sister Ellen!" But what was their astonishment to see the object of their dislike advance towards Mr. Barton with a look of recognition, and a low bow, which the latter acknowledged by a hearty shake of the hand. "When did you arrive, Mr. Barton?" asked Mr. Jenkins, respectfully. "Not an hour ago," replied Mr. Barton;" and thinking I might find you here, I came straight to the house. I have already learned how well you executed your commission: these youngsters have been telling me how fortunate you were." "Yes, Sir," replied Jenkins; "I have succeeded not only in getting you the estate, but all the valuble property besides." And now there was another outburst of astonishment. "You, grandfather! is the estate yours?" they asked incredulously. "I expect it is," he replied, with laughter, "if Jenkins, my agent here, tells the truth.” "Why, grandfather, is it really yours?" "You little unbelievers! yes, it is really mine." "And shan't we have to move from it? "Not without you prefer to." "And won't the furniture be carried away ?" "Not a splinter of it, if you want it to remain." If there had been gladness before, there was ecstacy now if their hearts had been full before, they overflowed now. Susie and Clara climed into his lap, and almost suffocated him with kisses: Fanny and Ellen fell on the old man's neck, and wept, and sobbed, and laughed, while Mr. Barton himself cried and laughed like a girl. Henry and Granville took Mr. Jenkins by the hand, "horrid and "disagreeable" no longer, and thanked him a thousand times, and asked his forgiveness, and leading him to the sofa, bade him be seated among them. "I reckoned you would 'nt feel so hard towards me when you come to know the rights of the case!" said the almost unmanned agent. "There now, children," said Mr. Barton; "there now;" rising and putting the children from him: "you are making a woman of me! Poor things, I did'nt know as you cared so much about your home." But it was long before calmness was restored to the household. They had suffered so long and so keenly, their way had seemed so dark and hedged up, such despair had settled upon them, that now a reversion of their fortunes had taken place, their hearts were too full of joy, their bosoms too much charged with gratitude, to allow them to settle down into quietude in a moment. Mr. Jenkins soon took his leave, and then, till a late hour the happy children sat with their aged relative, talking of the past, planning for the future. The events of the last six years were unfolded to him with all their variety of light and shade, and his tears mingled with theirs as he learned the fiery trials through which they had passed. And they breathed more freely, when they learned that their mother's letters, written after their father's death, had never reached him; for it was pleasanter to believe the post had miscarried, than that a father had been so vindictive towards a being gentle and tender as their mother. And now had commenced the beginning of better days to the young Howards. In a few days, masons, carpenters, painters and other artisans were employed by Mr. Barton, who never did things by halves; thorough repairs were made, a large and handsome addition was erected, to enlarge the al ready spacious mansion, and when he returned to his distant home, there came to reside with the orphans, a younger brother of their mother's, with his wife and children, whose business it was to manage the estate. The sunshine of prosperity again beamed on them: the studies of the younger children were again resumed, their long-tried hearts were solaced by the love of their new-found kindred, and throughout their after lives they had reason to look back upon the day when occurred the sale of the homestead, an event which seemed to them at the time only fraught with unmixed misery,—as one of the most fortunate days of their lives. CANDLEMAS. BY MRS. N. T. MUNROE. There is an Irish legend of Candlemas which runs thus. The mother lights candles, naming them for each of her children, and the manner of their burning foretells the fate of those for whom they are named. The candle first consumed, tells which child will die first. WINTER had bound his brow with holly, And passing 'neath the misletoe, had clasped The New Year in his cold embrace. Congealed in icy tears upon the cheek His breath He pressed. Hoarse winds mourned through the leafless trees A requiem for the past; while no glad song Pale and wan the sun of February Shone in on Candlemas. A mother rose And lighting up the tapers duly ranged, Each taper named for one she loved, sat down |