dens of Alexandria Bay to
inaugurate the winter sports by giving a Halloween party, and every one
looked forward to this with the wildest anticipation.

Jessie Bain had always been the moving spirit at these affairs, despite
the fact that they were generally held in the homes of some of the
wealthier girls, their houses being larger and more commodious.

The party, which was to be on a fine scale this year, was now the talk
of the little town.

But much to the sorrow and the amazement of Jessie Bain, day by day
rolled by without bringing her the usual invitation.

It wanted but two days now to the all-important party. Jessie had gotten
her dress ready for the occasion, thinking that at the last moment some
of the girls would come in person and invite her. Not that she cared so
much for the fun, after all, but her uncle was anxious that she should
go more among the young folks, as she used to do. It was simply to
please him that she would mingle among the crowd of youths and maidens.

At last the day of the Halloween party rolled round.

"Well," said her uncle, as he sat down to the breakfast table and waited
for her to set on the morning meal, "I suppose you're getting all your
fixings ready to have a big time with the young folks to-night?"

Before she could answer, there was the postman's whistle at the door. He
handed in a large, thick letter, and it was addressed to Jessie Bain.

Jessie turned the letter over and over, looking in wonder at the
superscription. The envelope contained something else besides the
letter--a newspaper clipping. This Jessie put on the table to look over
after she had finished the letter. It was a bright, newsy epistle,
brimming over with kindly wishes for her happiness, and ending with a
hope that the writer might see her soon.

"Who is it from?" asked her uncle.

The girl dutifully read it out for him.

"He seems to be a right nice young man, and quite taken up with you,
little Jess," he said, laughingly.

He saw by the distressed look on her face that this idea did not please
her.

"He would have to be a mighty nice fellow to get my consent to marry
you, my lass."

"Do not fear, uncle," she said; "you will never be called upon to give
your consent to that. He is very nice indeed, but not such a one as I
could give my heart to, I assure you."

"Then let me give you a word of advice; don't encourage him by writing
letters to him. But isn't there another part of the letter