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THE RESCUE.

“Will you class mine amongst them? This is toy last call to-day, for I have not many lady ] friends in New York, and I will say happy New Year to no one again today. I will giro you the last best wish.”

“Mr. Haven, yon will dine with us today?” said Mrs. Morton, joining them.

“With pleasure, madam,” and he rose to take his leave, having first ascertained their dinner hour.

Oh, that long, long day! Compliments, greet-

ings fell upon my ear: nothing interested me. At last, wearied and sick, I sought my own room, and threw myself upon the bed. Luoy missed me, but pleading a headache, I escaped the din- ner, promising to join her guests in the evening. I stood before my little glass dressing, and a  thrill of vanity passed through me. I saw large, dark eyes, soft brown hair falling in a profusion of curls, a fair, round neck and armB. My dress was simple, a dark-blue silk, but it was becom- ing. I wore no ornaments, no head-dress. As I looked, Lucy’s bright face, the fair curlB crowned with forget-me-nots, appeared beside mine. It was like an angel's face. The vanity fled, and feeling that Mr. Haven had shown good taste at least, I wreathed her waist with my arm, and we  went down stairs. The rooms were filled with guests, and Lucy was soon surrounded by friends. I Btole into a corner and watched them. Walter Haven was the favored one.

“Lizzie, dear, will you play a polka?” said Mrs. Morton. “I did not expect so many guests, and I have not ordered any music.”

“ Certainly,” and in a few moments I was securely hidden in a corner behind the grand piano. They whirled round and round, and I played.- No one missed me; no one thought that I could tire. Fortunately the music was almost mechauic&l. My thoughts were free. Two figures capae to the comer of the piano to rest after the waltz. They were Lucy and Mr. Haven. I turned my head aside and shook down my curls. Wal¬ ter’s back was toward me, but I oould see Lucy's lovely face.

“What a beautiful bracelet,” said Mr. Haven, bending over Luoy's arm.

“ You have only seen half its beauty,” was the reply. “See, when I touch this spring, it shows the face of the giver, Mr. Haven!”

He had grasped her arm tightly, and I trembled violently.

“Forgive me,” he said; “but the giver, tho— oh, Miss Lucy, I have sought her for months. I left home to attend to the publication of my book, and was gone some months. When I returned,

I heard that her guardian had stolen her fortune,. and she was gone away to earn her living. She, bo delicate and tender. Where can I find her?”

My hands fell upon the piano with a grand crash, and he turned. In an instant he stood beside me, while Lucy, dear Lucy, kept away the guests interrupted in their dance.

I left the comer, leaning on his arm, and we waltzed to dear Lucy's music, and nobody no¬ ticed us.

Next day he called, and the New Year that had opened so darkly, ow beamed with bright hopes, and I in a few weeks was Walter Haven’s wife.

THE RESCUE. BY

ELIZABETH The old castle is lonely, Dark and gloomy its halls, Thou‘rt a prisoner only Within its proud walls; Then ﬂy, ludyi fly, o‘er the blue rolling sea, There is freedom beyond its dark billows for thee. 'I‘hy stern father thou knowest Hath sworn by his sword To a cloister than gocst. 0r weddelt his word; Then ﬂy, ladyl ﬂy, o‘er the blue rolling sea, There is freedom beyond its dark billowe for thee. Unworthy young Harry, To call thee his bride, Thou'lt a broken heart carry If chained to his side; Then ﬂy, ladyl ﬂy, o’er the blue rolling sea, Where freedom awaits thee beyond it with me.

Thou knowest I have loved thee, How long and how well, So oft thou hast proved me ’Tvrere needless to tell; Then ﬂy, ladyl ﬂy, o'er the blue rolling son, And be happy beyond its dark billows with me. Bee yonder my vessel Spreads her canvas so white, Within sound of the vessel That frees the to-nlght; Then ﬂy, lady! fly, o‘er the blue rolllng non, 0r thou‘rt lost and forever to freedom and me. Then ere ’til as: late, Down the staircase of stone, Where my bold rowers wait, Let us haste to be gone;

And we’ll ﬂy, lady! fly, o’er the blue rolling sop, No cloilter beyond it shall hide thee from me.