d more firmly impressed on her
mind; and to him, accused by his own father of being her only child's
destroyer, she left the bulk of her fortune, and established the outcast
in her near vicinity, firmly trusting that the Almighty, in his own good
time, would bring the real culprit to light. _Her_ heart fixed on this
culprit, but Mr. Lovell continued in error and darkness. Those precious
words spoken in his last hour proved, however, that darkness was
dissipated, and error abandoned, when the dying man murmured a blessing on
his exiled son, who had sacrificed himself to shield an ungrateful brother
from shame and opprobrium.

Within two years after her father and brother's decease, Rose rewarded the
long and sincere attachment of a neighboring squire by becoming his wife.
Lovell Castle was sold, and Mildred repaired to Lodimer; while, on the
original site of Ivy Lodge, a more commodious dwelling was in course of
preparation. There she resided with her beloved brother for the remainder
of their joint lives, and Mr. Edwin found in his sweet companion not only
a valuable coadjutor in his favorite pursuits, but an absolute rival in
the affections of his feathered pets; while the swan's nest among the
reeds on Lodimer's fair waters continued to be as carefully preserved and
guarded as it had been during the solitary years of the now happy
ornithologist.

A CHILD'S TOY.

The afternoon was drawing in toward evening; the air was crisp and cool,
and the wind near the earth, steady but gentle; while above all was as
calm as sleep, and the pale clouds--just beginning in the west to be softly
gilded by the declining sun--hung light and motionless. The city, although
not distant, was no longer visible, being hidden by one of the many hills
which give such enchantment to the aspect of _our_ city. There was
altogether something singularly soothing in the scene--something that
disposed not to gravity, but to elevated thought. As we looked upward,
there was some object that appeared to mingle with the clouds, to form a
part of their company, to linger, mute and motionless like them, in that
breathless blue, as if feeling the influence of the hour. It was not a
white-winged bird that had stolen away to muse in the solitudes of air: it
was nothing more than a paper kite.

On that paper kite we looked long and intently. It was the moral of the
picture; it appeared to gather in to itself the sympathies of the whole
beautiful wo