y, for you'll never be wanted where I
am."

And without another glance in his direction she walked away, while
Reuben stood and watched her out of sight. "That's ended," he said,
setting his lips firmly together and hardening the expression of his
naturally grave face. "That mad game's finished, and finished so that I
think I've done with sweet-hearting for as long as I live. Well, thank
God! a man may get on very fairly though the woman that he made a fool
of himself for flings back his love and turns him over for somebody
else." Then, as if some unseen hand had dealt him a sudden thrust, he
cried out, "Why did I ever see her? Why was I made to care for her?
Haven't I known the folly of it all along, and fought and strove from
the first to get the better of myself? and here she comes down and sees
a fellow whose eye is tickled by her looks, and he gets in a week what
I've been begging and praying for years for; and they tell you that
God's ways are just and that He rewards the good and punishes the evil!"
and Reuben's face worked with suppressed emotion, for in spirit he stood
before his Creator and upbraided Him with "Lo! these many years have I
served Thee, neither transgressed I at any time Thy commandments; and
yet this drunkard, this evil-liver, this law-breaker, is given that for
which in my soul I have thirsted!" and the devils of envy and revenge
ran by his side rejoicing, while Fate flew before and lured him on to
where Opportunity stood and welcomed his approach.

_The Author of "Dorothy Fox."_

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

POSSESSION.

She is thine own at last, O faithful soul!
The love that changed not with the changing years
Hath its reward: Desire's strong prayers and tears
Fall useless since thy hand hath touched the goal.
See how she yieldeth up to thy control
Each mystery of her beauty: enter, thou,
A vanquished victor. None can disavow
Thy royal, love-bought right unto the whole
Of love's rich feast. Oh outspread golden hair,
White brow, red lips whereon thy lips are set
With rapturous thrills undreamed of, past compare!
Oh ecstasy of bliss! And yet--and yet--
What doth it profit thee that every part
Is thine except the little wayward heart?

ELIZA CALVERT HALL.

AN OLD ENGLISH HOME: BRAMSHILL HOUSE.

A peculiar charm hangs about an Elizabethan country-house.

The castles belong to an utterly different st