iful dark eyes flashing,
under the proud and ardent spirit of ambition, for such in fact was the
principle which now urged and animated the contest. When nearly half an
hour had passed, Kathleen came behind her, and stooping down, whispered,
"Dora, don't turn your wheel so quickly: you move the, foot-board too
fast--don't twist the thread too much, and you'll let down more."

Dora smiled and looked up to her with a grateful and flashing eye.
"Thank you, Kathleen," she replied, nodding, "I'll take your advice."
The state of the contest was then proclaimed:--Betty Aikins--three dozen
and ten cuts; Dora M'Mahon--three dozen and ten cuts; Hanna Cavanagh
--three dozen, six cuts and a half; Peggy Bailly--three dozen, five and
a half.

On hearing this, Betty Aikin's cheek became scarlet, and as it is
useless to disguise the fact, several flashing glances that partook
more of a Penthesilean fire than the fearful spirit which usually
characterizes the industrious pursuits of Minerva, were shot at generous
Dora, who sustained her portion of the contest with singular spirit and
temper.

"You may as well give it up, Dora M'Mahon," exclaimed Betty; "there
never was one of your blood could open against an Aikins--the stuff is
not in you to beat me."

"A very little time will soon tell that," replied Dora; "but indeed,
Betty, if I am doin' my best to win the kemp, I hope it's not in a bad
or unfriendly spirit, but in one of fair play and good humor."

The contest now went on for about fifteen minutes, with surpassing
interest and animation, at the expiration of which period, the seven
o'clock bell already alluded to, rang the hour for closing their labors
and determining the victory. Thus stood their relative position--Dora
M'Mahon, four hanks and three cuts; Betty Aikins, four hanks; Hanna
Cavanagh, three hanks and nine cuts; Peggy Bailly, three hanks and eight
cuts.

When this result was made known, Betty Aikins burst into a loud fit
of grief, in which she sobbed as if her very heart would break, and
Kathleen stooping down, congratulated the beautiful girl upon her
victory, kissing her at the same time as she spoke--an act of love and
kindness in which she would have joyfully been followed by several of
her male friends, if they had dared to take that delicious liberty.

The moment of victory, we believe, is that which may be relied upon as
the test of true greatness. Dora M'Mahon felt the pride of that moment
in its fulles