Rachel Atherton to the wayward and self-willed Thomas Pembroke. Mr. Atherton was aware of his daughter's attachment; but, unwilling to grieve her loving spirit, he remained a quiet yet pained observer, until Thomas presented himself to ask her hand in marriage.

Thomas Pembroke was, in no respect, the man Mr. Atherton would have chosen for his daughter. He doubted not his love for her, but he very much doubted his ability to make her happy through a lifetime. His extravagant and roving disposition was ill-suited to her settled and quiet habits. Thomas demanded not only her hand, but to remove her from the home of her childhood to a land of strangers, with no other surety for her happiness than his humored and volatile fancy.

Mr. Atherton felt that this was asking too much. He mildly but firmly told young Pembroke that he could not consent to his union with his daughter, on account of her youth and the necessity of removal from home; that, in the present unsettled state of his affairs, a wife would prove an incumbrance, and that a few years' waiting would qualify them better for the duties of the matrimonial state. With good advice and well wishes he dismissed the impatient and thankless lover.

Thomas was grieved at Mr. Atherton's positive refusal; but he doubted not he would induce Rachel to become his wife, notwithstanding her father's opposition. In this he was disappointed. However, Thomas Pembroke was not bad man; and, in spite of himself, he loved Rachel better for her dutifulness.

Weeks followed days, and month succeeded month as regularly as when Thomas was at home. Summer had melted away; Autumn, with its withered leaves, followed; and Winter's chilling winds and snowflakes were also passed since Thomas's departure.

Rachel was obliged to acknowledge to herself that Thomas's letters were not so frequent nor so long as formerly. This, her fond heart told her, was occasioned by the urgent demands of business, which he represented as very prosperous. She had been expecting a letter for some time, and it would be a long one. Weeks passed on -no letter came. Rachel was unhappy. Thomas was sick-perhaps dead. The thought was too dreadful to endure. She reproached herself for not accompanying him. Seating herself one day beside a window from which she glanced around for something to divert her mind from its gloomy forebodings, a newspaper near by was eagerly caught up, and proving to be from New Orleans -enhanced its value. Almost the first paragraph that caught her eye was the following:

"Married on the 18th inst., by the Rev. Dr. Chartiers, Thomas Pembroke, son of the late Richard Pembroke, of Kentucky, to Cornelia Adele, only daughter of Alphonse Devaux, Esq., of New Orleans."

The paper fell from her hands. When discovered by one of the family, Rachel was alike insensible to her own wrongs, or their kindness.

The reader will pass with me over an interval of twelve years. At the reopening of our story, Mr. Atherton had been dead several years. Harry Atherton was married and settled on a farm of his own, within a few miles of his mother's. Minnie was budding into womanhood, with a fall share of beauty and accomplishments. Rachel Atherton—she was Rachel Atherton still-was at the age when woman has reached maturity. The serene placidity of her countenance, that mirrored so plainly her benevolence of heart, made her really beautiful. She had not remained unmarried for want of opportunities to change her situation. Many advantageous offers had been respectfully

declined. She acted not thus because cherishing a re membrance of her former love-she would have been hor rified at the thought. Her confidence in man had been shaken, her trusting affection, holy and deep, betrayed. She cared not to risk the small treasure saved from the wreck of her affections to the whirlpool of man's incon. stancy. Her life was not spent in brooding over her sorrows, but in a cheerful performance of duty, and in selfdenying benevolence, that caused many a sad heart to rejoice, and infused into her own spirit that peace of mind which passeth all understanding.

Thomas Pembroke, after an absence of several years, and the dissipation of his wife's fortune, returned a repentant man, to improve and dwell on his patrimonial estate, accompanied by his wife and children. Four years had elapsed since their settlement, and his plant. ation gave pleasing evidence of the industry and enter. prise of its owner. Immediately after his marriage, Rachel set about teaching her heart to forget that he had ever been to her aught more than an ordinary acquaintance, Heaven blessed her efforts, and a sweet feeling of resigna tion to its will was the result. But that calm state was of late strangely disturbed. Thomas Pembroke was a widower A contagious fever laid his wife and two of his children beneath the sod of the valley. Twelve months had pissed since that events. His occasional call, and latterly frequent visits, at Mrs. Atherton's, could not be mistaken. Feelings long dormant were reawakened in Richel's breast, asserting their prerogative with arguments that no woman's heart could resist. Rachel, being a woman only, not an angel, resigned herself to their sweet influence. Her eye brightened, her step became more elastic, her voice was gentler and sweeter. She was astonished at the intensity of her feelings. She blushed, too, when aware that her mirror was more frequently consulted, her dress arranged in a more becoming style, and her soft, shining hair adjusted with greater care than the respect due ber family demanded. All was forgiven. Twelve years of life were annihilated. It seemed but yesterday that s'e wandered by Thomas's side and listened to his words of love.

About this time, in a pleasant apartment, from which the dinner-table had just been removed, was a gentleman in middle life. His countenance wore a good-natured expression, and his figure inclined to corpulency. It wa evident he took the world easy. He was comfortably seated in a reclining-chair, his feet mounted on the back of another in front; his head thrown back, to facilitate the passage upward of the beautiful, wreathing columns of smoke that an exquisitely flavored "Havana" was exhaling. Ever and anon he removed the precious article, and amused himself in contemplating the lovely cottages, lofty castles, tasteful domes and various fantastic forms that the blue vapor above assumed; then daintily knocking off the ashes with his little finger, replaced the cigar, to puff away with increased zest on account of the voluntary cessation— not with a laborious vigor that would make it fatiguing, but with those easy, long drawn, gently emitted puffs that a practiced smoker so well understands. Gentle lady reader, you can skip over this part. Nature has deprived you of this delicate and ethereal enjoyment, and reserved it for the gentlemanly part of creation alone. By it their love and their hatred, their joy and their sorrow alike vanish into smoke.

The gentleman who was enjoying such a pleasant siesta was Mr. Pembroke. It is time we drop the puerile appellation of Thomas. Mr. Pembroke always chose the hour after dinner, while enjoying his cigar, to cogitate upon in← portant matters.

1. Making the Model.

2. Joining the Head.

a delighted grin, that Miss Rachel is at home,' or 'abroad'; or, Miss Rachel has the headache,' or 'is very well,' or something about Miss Rachel. Just as if I could go there to see nobody but Miss Rachel: They are slow

Now, if I could get that flower transplanted here, it would be a prize worth having. To be sure, it would be rather awkward to constitute a girl of seventeen the mother of a boy eleven years old. There is another consideration. If

With these agreeable reflections. Mr. Pembroke arose. Having adjusted his toilet with care and precision, he ordered his horse, and rods over to Mrs. Atherton's. Rachel, who was alone - her mother and sister having gone to spend the day with a friend-saw him approaching. A strange feeling came over her. Leaning against the window for support, she clasped her hands over her heart as if to still its rapid pulsations. Delicacy forbade her going into the parlor until sent for. Every moment she expected a message, but none came. At last Mr. Pembroke rode off. The servant informed her that Mr. Pembroke, on learning that Mrs. Atherton and Miss Minnie were not at home, observed he would not intrude on Miss Rachel, but, leaving his compliments for all the ladies, went away, as she had seen.

Rachel respected him for acting so delicately; still, her heart frankly confessed it would have dispensed with such nice perceptions. However, there was time enough yet, aud her cheek crimsoned at her own impetuous feelings. Several weeks passed away, and nothing of interest to Rachel transpired. At length one morning Mrs. Atherton requested a private interview with her. Rachel led the way to her own apartment with a tremulous heart. Her mother informed her that Mr. Pembroke had, by a written communication, with Minnie's approval, solicited her consent to his marriage with her sister; that she had consulted with her son, and both thought it a very unsuitable match, not only on account of the disparity of years, but, also, from Mr. Pembroke's fickleness and Minnie's deception and ingratitude, little abiding happiness could be expected. Consequently, she had determined, with her son's advice, to peremptorily forbid such a union, and warn Minnie, upon pain of her lasting displeasure, to cease all intercourse with Mr. Pembroke. If, in opposition to her wishes, Minnie pursued a contrary course, she had fully resolved to disinherit her.

On Rachel's partial recovery from the shock this sudden and unexpected intelligence occasioned, she begged to be left alone. She closed the dcor after her mother, and gazed around the neat apartment, hallowed as it had been by the dreams of her early love and the fond hopes of their realization. Now they were past-fled for ever! Her heart was pierced, not only by one of whom she had every reason to expect better, but also by the sister she had cherished and almost idolized. Poor heart! it was too full to weep! Rachel fell upon her knees. While endeavoring to calm her agitation, she earnestly besought that Divine support might be granted, and the right influence her actions. She looked down into her heart, and was conscious this love she had been cherishing reigned supremely there. She trembled to think of aught interfering with her duty to her Maker, and doubted not but He had sent this stroke as a token of His fatherly love to reclaim her. She bowed in submission. Her vows with God were renewed-her whole heart given to Him. Rachel

meek, consistent Christian, whose piety governed her conduct and shone in her life. Lately, she had wandered from her heavenly Father, and placed her affections upon. an earthly object. The dispelling of this vain illusion | had shown her the state of her heart, and humbly and penitently she besought forgiveness. Nor did she sue in. vain. She arose strengthened. A holy calm was upon her face and in her heart. She sought her mother, and told her she was now prepared, according to request, to express her opinion concerning the important event that had so agitated the family. She mildly represented that the course her mother suggested would have an injurious effect. To Minnie it would appear cruel and unjust; and to Mr. Pembroke the loss of Minnie's property would be. nothing, if he really loved her. As Minnie had yielded so far in a clandestine correspondence, she was confident her young and inexperienced heart could not withstand the fervid eloquence of Mr. Pembroke; if Mrs. Atherton withheld her consent, they would marry without it. This shebesought her mother not to compel them to do. She urged these views upon her mother and brother, until they, filled with admiration of the pious girl, and deamingit the lesser evil of the two, consented to the marriage. An early day was fixed for the ceremony, which was performed privately in the presence of a few friends. Rachel was firm and collected. Hers was the only voice of the family that faltered not in the congratulations, the only cheek that kept its color.

A few months after Minnie's marriage, Mrs. Atherton, who had been feeble some time, became a confirmed invalid. After lingering many months, soothed by Rachel's care and affection, she quietly slept beside her hus-band. As was supposed, Mrs. Atherton left the property to her older daughter. Rachel's grief at the death of her mother was great, but she knew where to apply for consolation. One year was spent in travel, after which she quietly settled in the old homestead. Six years passed. Rachel could scarce believe it, so tranqui', so satisfactory was the life she spent. Early one morning she was bastily summoned to Mr. Pembroke's. A blood-vessel was`ruptured, and he was pronounced by his physician in imminent danger. When Rachel arrived, she found her sister almost frantic with grief, and Mr. Pembroke dying. He beckoned her to approach.

Rachel," said he, in a low whisper, "I have sent for you to relieve my dying moments. An unfortunate speculation has involved my estate-my wife and children are beggars! From you alone do I look for succor; oh, disappoint me not! Promise me you will take care of and support them. My life is ebbing away-sight fails-do you promise?"

"Heaven assisting, I promise," was Rachel's firm reply. He made a sign to have his wife and children brought. Seizing Rachel's hand with his cold grasp, "I give them to you!" he said. "God bless you and them !"

The exertion was too much. He fell back, and life was gone.

Upon the settlement of Mr. Pembroke's estate, but a small pittance remained to his wife and children. They at once became members of Rachel's family. Minnie never recovered her cheerfulness. A feeling of inferiority, an overpowering weight of obligation, depressed her, and caused her to receive Rachel's kind attentions with ill-suppressed dissatisfaction. Unhappy and discontented, she gradually wasted away; and Rachel wept beside the graves of father, mother and sister. Carefully did Rachel Atherton train the children intrusted to her care. The oldest, Mr. Pembroke's son by his first marriage, she educated for

Rachel Atherton still lives, happy and beloved, a bright example of the triumph of duty over temptation, and self-denying piety over the natural and unsanctified propensities of the heart.

BLUE FLOWERS AND BEES.

WE have long seen that Nature never sought to make a secret of the fact that insects owe their very life to flowers; and now it is no novelty to remark that the benefit is absolutely mutual, and that without the industry of insects certain flowers would actually cease to exist. Naturalists have placed the matter beyond a doubt; and Darwin's convincing experiments upon the superiority of cross-fertilized over self-fertilized flowers are fresh in every mind. Some very curious facts have lately been elicited with regard to the preference shown by hitherto supposed illogical creatures for certain colors.

It is true that close observers have long been aware that beetles, bees and flies display manifest likings for different kinds of plants; that certain flowers are only visited by certain insects, which will pass over many apparently tempting honey-cups in a diligent search for the particular one they prefer; but by what rules they are habitually guided it has been thought impossible to discover. Now, by some still more recent investigations, we are led to think many insects are provided with a color-sense; that small flies as a rule prefer white; most beetles, yellow; and that blue flowers are specialized for fertilization by beesblue being the favorite color of bees, and the adaptation having gone on pari passu on both sides; so that, as the bee-flowers grew bluer, bees grew fonder and fonder of blue; and as they grew fouder of blue, they have more and more constantly preferred the bluest flowers.

But before getting up to this point, it must be understood that every plant has a long history of its own, and that this history leads us on through a wonderful series of continuous metamorphoses. In the earliest flowers, there were simply leaves, stamens, and ovules; the stamen and Ovary being by origin modified leaves. All stamens show a tendency to become flattened out into petals. In the centre of the water-lily-one of the simplest types of flowers-a regular gradation from the perfect stamen to the perfect petal may be traced. We find the ordinary stamen with stalks and yellow authers; and then the stalks grow broader, and pollen-sacs less perfect; then a few stamens like petals, only they have imperfect anthers at the very top; and then the true petals. There are many other cases in which the stamens seem to have turned into petals; in almost all double flowers, the outer petals are produced from the inner stamens. Evolution is generally traceable, and the parent form does not always die out. The duckweed still exists the most primitive flower of all, consisting of a stamen and a pistil growing out of the edge of the leaf, and scarcely to be seen without a lens; but the ist:l contains true seeds, and it is thought that all existing flowering-plants are descended from this inconspicuous original one. By degrees, insects, visiting the tiny flow. ers and cross-fertilizing them, brought stronger and better blossoms to bloom; several stamens and several carpels made compound flowers out of simple single ones; stamens gradually crowded out from the middle, became flat. tened into petals; and potals changed from their original white or yellow, beginning first to be variegated, various

These different hues being laid up in the tissues of plants-an example of which is familiar to us all in the varying tints of Autumn leaves-a faint color-change is not an unlikely accident. Soil, climate and cultivation are known to alter the original color of flowers. The wild forget-me-not wanders from yellow to pink, from pink to blue; the wallflower turns from yellow to red, violet and purple; and it is quite fair to believe that, through the selective agency of insects, one particular color being chiefly visited by them, either by chance or actual preference, that color may be transmitted through generations, until it becomes a permanent one. Sir John Lubbock, after a series of experiments, arrives at the conclusion that blue is the favorite color of bees. That they possess a By placing honey on slips of glass resting on black, white, yellow, orange, blue, green and red paper, he found that, however often the slips might be transposed, the blue was the one preferred; yet, in a list of plants best loved by bees, given in Wood's Manual for their management, not a single really blue flower finds a place. We know, however, that blue flowers are comparatively rare, and it would appear that the spontaneous variations which make toward blue are less frequent than those which make toward pink, red, purple or orange. Monkshood, larkspur and columbine are chiefly fertilized by bees; and Darwin, watching the flight of a humble-bee from a tall larkspur in full flower to another plant of the same species at the distance of fifteen yards, which had not yet a single flower open, thinks that they were able to recognize it by the buds, which showed a tinge of blue.

sense of color there can be no manner of doubt.

Color would seem to vary most on the most curiously developed flowers; and those which have been most highly specialized are usually purple, lilac or blue. Now, bees and butterflies may be said to be highly specialized insects; and Grant Allen draws from this, that if the more specialized and modified flowers, which gradually fitted their forms and the position of their honey-glands to the forms of bees or butterflies, showed a natural tendency to pass from yellow, through pink and red, to purple and blue, it would follow that the insects which are being evolved side by side with them, and which were aiding at the same time in their evolution, would grow to recognize these developed colors as the visible symbols of those flowers from which they could obtain the largest amount of honey with the least possible trouble.

Darwin unconsciously adds weight to a deduction which at first sight seems to be almost too poetic and fanciful, by remarking that self-fertilized flowers are generally uniform in tint; whilst it is the habit of cross-fertilized ones to become darker. Should we be able to follow these arguments step by step, there will no longer be any hesitation in the matter; we shall no longer find any difficulty in believing that since blue is the especial symbol of advancement, the aristocratic bee should constantly prefer it.

DOLLS AND DOLLMAKERS.

DOLLS are idols, and, as the name comes from the ancient Greeks, the article is even older, and dates back to the early times of the human race. The tombs of Peru! and of Egypt, of Scandinavia and of the primitive Christians in the Catacombs, all combine to show that the little girls had their dolls, and loved them so dearly that their parents, grieving over their darling's early death,