Now then, papa, the coach is at the door. Must we go to the city for the will? It is full late already." “No, dear—no; I will explain. There is no occasion to go to the city."

Both were so entirely absorbed by the quick thoughts which glanced in swift succession through their minds —his, indistinct, gloomy, terrible, as Night and Fear; hers, light and joyous, as flowers waving in the fragrant breath of golden summer-that no word was spoken by either till they arrived in Berkeley Square. "Here we are, papa!" exclaimed Miss Oakley, arousing her father from his dull reverie.

He slowly descended from the coach, dismissed it, and leaning heavily on his daughter's arm, entered the magnificent mansion, and was immediately ushered up stairs into the drawing-room.

once terminated. The will, sir, which my uncle, Siring a will last night,” said Hardy, with cool effrontery;
Martin Biddulph, left in your custody, and of which I "that I can testify."
have long known the purport, you of course have
brought with you?"

"The will!" murmured Robert Oakley, gazing with a perplexed and terrified expression at the speaker" the will!"

"Yes, sir; I speak plainly, I think. The will of Sir Martin Biddulph, left, as he informed me, with you."

sion.

Scoundrel!" exclaimed Mr. Severn, pale with pas

nated. Either, my sweet, amiable, virtuous coz, produce the will you speak of, or, like a sensible fellow, give possession at once to the undoubted heir-at-law. "Ah, yes, I remember," rejoined the bewildered I still adhere to my promise of allowing you a handman, rubbing his forehead, as if to recall some circum- some annuity for life-on condition, of course, that stance to memory, and looking fixedly at Mr. Conway, my unquestionable right is at once and frankly adwho appeared purposely to avoid his gaze. "The will mitted." —it was burned last night in the dreadful fire!" "I will accept no gift from you," replied Mr. Se"Burned!" cried Mr. Severn-"burned! Why, vern; " and I will assuredly surrender nothing till I this is a new invention! You said just now, Mr. have consulted Sir Martin's solicitor, whom I momently Conway, and the person near you confirmed your words, that Mr. Oakley declared no will of Sir Martin's had ever been left with him."

Nothing, my child," he answered, gently raising her. "Not left with me-no, no-burned, as I told you: how could I help it?"

The company, which rose at their entrance, were, "Father! father!" exclaimed Caroline, throwing when the servant announced their names, in a state of herself on her knees before him in an ecstasy of agogreat, and it seemed painful, excitement. The youth-nized apprehension, "what dreadful meaning lies conful bride, Mrs. Severn, was seated between her husband cealed in your words?” and mother, who each held one of her hands. Her sweet face was flushed and tearful; and an expression of angry surprise, not unmixed with alarm, was visible not only upon Mr. Severn's countenance, but on that of Mrs. Richard Oakley, whose husband was engaged in earnest, and, as it seemed, agitating conversation with Mr. Neville. At a little distance sat Mr. Conway, in an ostentatiously-defiant attitude, and insolent expression of face; beneath which, nevertheless, a person accustomed to note the exterior signs of human emotion could not have failed to detect hot and cold

flushes of undefined apprehension flitting to and fro. Hardy, by whom he was accompanied, stood a little behind him, his sinister features wearing their usual callous, God-and-man-defying aspect.

Exclamations of surprise, rage, and indignation,
burst from the lips of his brother and Mr. Severn.
"Stay, stay, do not curse me, sir; do not upbraid
me, Richard: I will make all right. That girl, that
lady, is she

66

your

child?"

'Yes, and the wife of the man you have carelessly or wilfully beggared."

"And did I not hear some one say, as we came along, that the funds had risen three per cent. this morning?"

expect."

“Quite right, coz,” rejoined Conway; “and if that astute gentleman—Mr. Smart, I believe, firm of Smart and Figes-does not long delay his appearance, I can have no objection to your remaining here till he comes"

This insolent speech, and the angry retort rising to Mr. Severn's lips, were both checked by the footman's announcement of "Mr. Smart."

A very properly-named gentleman indeed; and moreover, spruce, neat, spotless, as if he had just stepped-powdered hair, pigtail, polished Hessian boots, bottle-green coat, light-flowered waistcoat, gold snuffbox, and all-out of a show-glass. One, too, of the most polite, the most courteous of gentlemen; bland as summer in speech; in action, it was reported, keen as the north wind: a bachelor withal, although a great admirer of the gentler sex, for whom he invariably manifested unbounded respect and deference. He glided courteously round the circle, tendering his compliments or his snuff-box alternately to all; which done, he had leisure to gaze round in astounded recognition of the perplexed and angry countenances by which he found himself environed.

"It is not that," interrupted Mr. Severn impatiently, although he still hesitated to ask the question which trembled on his lips.

"Very extraordinary, upon my word! Quite, it They had at two o'clock at all events," said Hardy, should seem, 'à la mort.' Sir Martin was unquestion soothingly. ably a most estimable gentleman, and, of course, it is But all this Caroline Oakley heeded not, neither did "Good; and that lady is your daughter? So, Mr. | proper and natural his death should excite grief—naher father. She only saw her beautiful cousin Alice: Conway, I shall not want your assistance, and every-tural and proper grief, that is; for I hold excess, even it was more than two years since they had last met, thing will be right again—quite right." He laughed of virtuous emotions, to be unchristian, and thereand she speeded with eager fondness to embrace, to faintly, and stood up, gazing with a vacant, elated ex- fore—” congratulate, to lavish on her the joyous tokens of her pression upon his auditors. Their stern and indignant affectionate, loving admiration and delight. As for looks appeared to recall his wandering mind to a sense Robert Oakley, he saw at first but a mass of faces, of the reality of the scene before him. His filmy menacing, stern at least, he thought, except, indeed, eyes lightened with momentary intelligence; he burst "Not that! Then what, in the name of fortune, that of his brother-his brother, so coldly thrown off, into a paroxysm of tears, and threw himself into the can it be? Something excessively melancholy and contemned, abandoned, many years before, but who arms of his brother, exclaiming, in the last coherent grievous, I should say," added the solicitor, helping now stepped forward and shook him warmly by the words he ever uttered, "Forgive me, brother; oh, for- himself to a comfortable pinch, and bowing with elahand, as he guided his tottering steps to a chair. What give me. I helped to burn the will last night! He, borate courtesy to Mrs. Severn, "to throw a gloom could it all mean! His agitation, his bewilderment, Conway, paid the price of my soul: and I, miserable over the features of your husband-excuse my freewere pitiable. He rose from his chair, and seemed villain that I am, who killed my wife, have now ruined dom of speech, madam, pray; it was quite involuntary about to cross over to Mr. Conway, then sat down you, yours, Caroline-all that ever loved or trusted-spontaneous, I assure you-and the possessor of again, got up, reseated himself in the blankest confu- me." sixteen thousand a year. Very melancholy and griev sion and dismay. ous indeed; quite a curiosity, I should say, and I am extremely anxious to make its acquaintance. I think I perceive," continued the oily man of law, finding no "You hear?" said Mr. Severn, addressing Con- reply to him-"I think I perceive the cause of this way.

"Calm yourself, Mr. Oakley," said Mr. Severn. "This matter will, I have no doubt, be speedily cleared up. You of course received my note?"

"He did," replied Caroline Oakley, who, puzzled and dismayed by the strange aspect of the circle of faces round her, except, indeed, that of Neville, had rejoined her father. "We are here in compliance with the request it contained."

"That being so," continued Mr. Severn with relaxed sternness, "this strange misapprehension can be at

Violent convulsions seized him, and he was borne out of the apartment, followed by his weeping, horrorstricken daughter.

passing cloud. Don't you think, sir,” he added, ap

"I have heard,” replied that person, quickly recover-proaching Mr. Conway with his extended snuff-box, ing his momently faltering hardihood, "I have heard the ravings of a lunatic. You heard him declare a minute before that no will had been left with him. That, no doubt, is the fact."

“Unquestionably I do. He succeeds to the real estate, and so much of exclusive personals, though there are conflicting decisions, as pertain to the proper maintenance of his condition. The family plate and furniture of Oatlands, and this mansion, for instance, would, in my opinion, pass to you with the realty, as the late Sir Martin Biddulph's heir-at-law, were you not—as we all know you are-and really were it not that the fortunate legatee is my excellent and esteemed young friend-if he will permit me to call him soMr. Severn, I should greatly regret the circumstancebarred from the succession by the amiable baronet's will."

"Go on-go on."

know, Mr. Smart-none better, I am sure-the position seat, crossing his legs, and evidently greatly enjoying was very speedily realized; and Sir Francis and Lady and rights of an heir-at-law?" the eager curiosity which hung upon his words-" in Severn, in the enjoyment of their mutual affection, this very case, supposing-only supposing, mind— their brilliant fortune and position, might be reckoned that what we have heard is true, how, except upon among the most favored of mankind. There was no the principle of Quem Deus vult perdere—prius likelihood, either, that this baronetcy would lapse, by dementat'-correct, I believe, Mr. Severn-or, would failure of heirs in the male line. A very happy you say, 'primum ?""' woman, doubtless, was Lady Severn, for she was good and amiable as fortunate; but anything like so proud a woman as her mother, Mrs. Richard Oakley, she assuredly was not, especially when that excellent lady had her quiver full of grandchildren. But it is time to close this somewhat garrulous narrative of long since passed, and, except to a few persons, almost forgotten events; and I perhaps cannot better do so than in the words of Mr. Twynham, who frankly admitted-I think it was on the day after the christening of the fourth, perhaps the fifth child-I am not sure which-that "gentleness, guilelessness, simplicity, beauty, and grace, may insure happiness even in extremely unequal marriages—a truth exemplified in the domestic lives of Sir Francis and Lady Severn." "An example, however, which ought not to be set down as a precedent," said Mr. Smart, who was present; and I agree with him.

"How else, I say, could ordinarily sane persons imagine that the old established firm of Smart and Figes would have left such an important document to a single chance of fire or other accident. The truth is, gentlemen-I beg ten thousand pardons-ladies and gentlemen; and, by the by, Mr. Conway, you have been in Paris, I know-it appears to me that the "Have you the original draft of that will ?" said Mr. | politest nation in the world, as they call themselves, Severn.

and in fact are in many respects, are strangely out “Original draft! No, certainly not. Of what pos- with their "messieurs et mesdames.'” sible use would it be?"

"I thought, perhaps, helped with your testimony, it might avail; but as it is, we are, it seems, beggars !" "Eh! what!" exclaimed Mr. Smart, springing briskly up from the chair in which he had just seated himself. "Eh! what!"

"The devil fly away with you and the politest nation into the bargain!" exclaimed Conway; "what is it you are driving at?"

"Take it coolly, pleasantly, Mr. Conway, as I always do," replied the lawyer with super-blandness. "The plain truth, then, since you will have it, is, that “The will is destroyed-burned !" said Mr. Severn, the will of Sir Martin Biddulph was executed, as all bitterly. wills ought to be, in duplicate; and that here," draw“What! eh!” again ejaculated the lawyer, wheel- ing a neatly-folded parchment from his pocket, “that ing half round, and facing Mr. Severn.

"The late Sir Martin Biddulph left no will," said Mr. Conway from the opposite side; and Mr. Smart wheeled back again, once more repeating, "What! eh!"

No one seemed disposed to further enlighten him, and he was compelled himself to renew the conversation.

“Upon my life, this is very extraordinary. Will you, sir-will your ladyship-I beg pardon, I am wrong-premature, at all events. The baronetcy is, I am aware, extinct, in consequence of the failure of heirs in the male line; but it will be renewed, madam, no question of that, looking at the steady support given to the minister by the late excellent baronet. Still I am premature; but will you, madam, prevail on some of these gentlemen to explain?"

"The explanation is as easy as it is conclusive," said Mr. Severn, and he related what had previously occurred.

“Remarkable, madam, is it not?" said Mr. Smart when the narration was finished. "Quite a drama in itself-quite so." Harry Neville's keen eye noticed that the revelation just made had not in the slightest degree diminished the lawyer's deferential manner towards his sister. "There are, you perceive, all the usual dramatis persona: le jeune première,”—a most profound bow; "la dame noble"-a less elaborate inclination towards Mrs. Richard Oakley; "and-and" -he glanced towards Mr. Conway; "but, perhaps it might be deemed discourteous to pursue the analogy

here is the counterpart!"

The surprise, joy, exultation, mortification, and rage, excited in the breasts of that auditory by this announcement may be imagined better than described. Mr. Conway, followed by his confidant, left the house in an agony of rage and disappointment. A few days' reflection brought, however, enforced calm and resignation. He accepted the considerably-augmented annuity proffered by Mr. Severn, and sought employment and distinction in the ranks of the British armies then engaged in the terrific struggle with the French legions in Spain. He found both there; and in the bitter fight before Toulouse, the Gazette said, a glorious death. Hardy was never again heard of. He vanished into one of the sinks of society, and doubtless perished there.

The winding-up of the affairs of Mr. Robert Oakley, who, it was soon authoritatively declared, had been smitten with permanent lunacy-he had received a heavy blow on the head, it was ascertained, doubtless at the fire-did not, thanks to the rise in the funds, and to the withdrawal of all claims due to the estate of Sir Martin Biddulph, wind up so disastrously as had been anticipated. After discharging all claims, including that directed by the dying commands of her mother to be paid, the large sum of which the firm of Cummings, Brothers had been legally defrauded, Caroline found herself possessed of about £12,000—not a very splendid fortune, but sufficient with the profits of her gallant, single-minded husband's profession, not only for her own and his moderate wishes, but for the future advantageous placing out of their rather numerous progeny; and for the present help and support of Caroline's God-stricken parent, who, helpless, dejected, “I will tell you,” rejoined that courteous personage utterly crazed, but harmless, passed his days in roamwith his pleasantest smile. "Did you ever remark-ing about the grounds and garden, ever muttering to but of course a gentleman of your intelligent observa- himself fantastic schemes of aggrandizement by suction must have done so that great rogues-nothing cessful speculations in the stock and money markets. personal, I assure you, Mr. Conway-this Oakley is of He died at the age of fifty-eight, making no sign course, as you represent him, a slandering lunatic; but except that of his life-surely a vivid and instructive still, as a general rule, you must have observed that one to all who have the will and faculty to read it great rogues are almost always great fools? In this aright. very case, now," continued Mr. Smart, resuming his

further."

66

'What do you mean?" exclaimed that gentleman with assumed fierceness, though evidently discomposed by the calm assurance of the lawyer.

Mr. Smart's anticipation respecting the baronetcy

From the London Illustrated Magazme.
THE HAUNTED SPRING

THE greenwood's shade and bower,
The streamlet's spangled flow,
That gems with silver shower

The gold king-cup below;
There they say the fairy dances,
In many a moonlit ring,
Are tript, till morning glances
Arounded the Haunted Spring.

I've lingered oft and listened,
The fairy harps to hear;
But kind eyes on me glisten'd,
With human love and fear;
And a spell, the fairy dances

To the heart can never bring,
I've known in love-lit glances
Beside the Haunted Spring.

Still oftentimes I linger

In the greenwood's twilight shade;
But by no fairy finger

The magic harps are played;
But Memory's spell unbroken,

Like a happy song, will bring
Each word in love once spoken
Beside the Haunted Spring.

AUTUMN.

THOU Comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain,
With banners, by great gales incessant fanned,
Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand,
And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain!
Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne,
Upon thy bridge of gold; thy royal hand
Outstretched with benedictions o'er the land,
Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain:
Thy shield is the red harvest moon, suspended
So long beneath the heavens' o'erhanging eaves,
Thy steps are by the farmer's prayers attended:
Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves;
And, following thee, in thy ovation splendid,
Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves!
LONGFELLOW.

A FRAGMENT

BY ALICE CAREY.

EVEN for the dead I will not bind

My soul to grief-death cannot long divide;
For it is not as if the rose had climbed
My garden wall, and blossomed on the other side.

FASHIONS.

BY MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS.

HE lovely weather that has prevailed through the THE latter part of October has kept our winter Fashions somewhat in the background; fall bonnets of comparatively light material still prevail; bright tinted shawls and mantillas have not yet yielded place to velvets and cloths, which will doubtless be introduced before the month is out; for the openings at our fashionable establishments have all been brilliantly attended, and the lavish expense in these, always expensive articles of dress, would startle some of our country friends, we fear.

folding over the arm like a talma; it takes behind a circular sweep, below the waist, and is folded over the arms with peculiar richness of effect. The furs of which it is composed are of Siberian sables, the most expensive skins that we know of. They are brought, like most of the best ermines, from the great prisonground of the Emperor Nicholas, and, with all their beauty, bring many a painful association with them. So much does the Emperor value this particular kind of fur, that he takes every tenth skin-of course, always having the choice ones selected-as imperial property. Thus, like the Gobelin carpets of France, the most perfect of these sables become an imperial monopoly, and are deemed of sufficient importance to be included with Maliehete marbles and other rare native productions with which the Emperors of Russia sometimes compliment the royal families of Europe. Our principal dealers find themselves fully occupied The color of this cape is a deep rich brown, the fur in meeting the demands made on their stock, in antici- thick, long, and fine. It takes many skins to compose pation of the approaching cold weather. The most a garment large as the one we illustrate; and as beautiful Russian and South American furs ever im- each skin is very dark along the back, there is a beauported are in the market this autumn. We have seen ful gradation of tints running up and down the cape, large capes of Russian sables sold at fifteen hundred sometimes forming regular stripes of great beauty and dollars each within the last month, and other qualities richness. Bulpin has already sold several of these sable of Russian and North American furs, graduating from cloaks at fifteen hundred dollars, but the same garment, eight hundred to eight dollars for a single muff or vic-made of Hudson's Bay sables, may be obtained at a torine. Of these varieties, we have selected three of price very much less. the most beautiful for illustration.

THE FURS.

The other mantilla or cape, chosen from Mr. BulFrom Mr. Cook's we have chosen a Fisherusse or pin's establishment, is of Chinchilla fur, not the Russian cloak of the latest and most beautiful fashion. meagre, thin, and inferior article sold of late years The form is that of a graceful mantilla, with a small under that name—an article that has succeeded for a cape pointed in front, and confined at the neck with a time in keeping this most beautiful fur in disrepute, heavy cord and tassels of white silk. The fur is of-but this which we select is of that thick, soft, and those exquisite ermines, found in the greatest perfection among the snows of Siberia, and gathered, doubtless, sometimes by the unfortunate beings who are every week driven, like cattle, from the receiving prisons in Moscow, to linger out a miserable life, or perish at once, in the severe climate which imparts such beauty and value to this most regal of all materials known for a lady's dress.

The ermine which composes this cloak is peculiarly rich and pure; the white, soft and dazzling, like newlyfallen snow, till the rich gold tint begins, and from that the dark tufts steal out like tassels of glossy jet. The soft and almost imperceptible blending of the gold and white, with the abrupt black contrasts of the tassel, forms that superb effect which will always make ermine the most favored among furs. The lining of the cloak is of white silk, delicately quilted.

The muff is of small size, scarcely larger than that of a Miss three years old, lined like the cloak, and gathered at each end with cords and tassels hanging low, and, when in use, blending gracefully with the heavier tassels belonging to the cloak. A Fisherusse of this pattern, with the muff, varies in price, according to the perfection of the fur, from one hundred and seventy-five to three hundred and twenty-five dollars. Of course, garments made of inferior skins may be obtained at less price; and victorines, taking much less fur, are proportionately cheaper.

peculiarly beautiful material brought from Buenos
Ayres. The under fur soft, and silvery white, tipped and
blended with black, producing the most lovely effect ever
combined in nature. To our individual fancy, the chin-
chilla is, next to ermine, the most beautiful fur on earth
for the young and lovely. Its peculiar colors match any
garment that the owner may wear, and for softness and
delicacy, it is unrivalled by anything but swan's down.
The front of this cape is fastened, after a fashion
peculiar to Bulpin's establishment, with buttons and
loops of silver-grey silk, finished at the point of the
small cape with a knot and ends of silken cord, to
which tassels are attached, that fall half way down
the front tabs. These tabs are of moderate length, and
square at the bottom. The dark lines on the back of
each skin running down the centre of each tab gives
an appearance of additional thickness to the fur which
nothing but an artistic taste can produce. The lining
is of glossy white satin, quilted in small diamonds.
The size of the garment is that of a fashionable

mantilla.

CLOAKS, DRESSES, &c.

the needle, through which the glow of the velvet strikes as if colored by a pencil. A degree of fullness is given to this style of cloak by two or three small plaits at each shoulder, which allow the velvet to fall in graceful folds over the arm.

The dress is of dark blue silk, with a basquine, edged with black velvet. The bodice is cut square at the neck, and fastens half-way up the front with knots of black velvet. The bonnet is of white royal velvet, edged with satin folds and blond lace, finished with ostrich plumes. The brim is circled with several rows of blond, with side trimmings of velvet flowers, thickly interspersed with the lace.

Having selected velvet cloaks, literally netted over with superb embroidery, from Mr. Bell's establishment, 58 Canal street, last month, in order to secure a tasteful variety, we take one for our left hand figure of an opposite style, and not less desirable for a great portion of our readers. It is a circular of fine drab cloth, trimmed with broad silk galoon of the same color, running in double stripes around the bottom of the cloak, and forming a graduated pattern up the front. The cape is small and pointed, both in the back and front, finished behind with a rich tassel. There is sufficient fullness on the shoulders for an easy flow of drapery over the arms. The lining is of navy blue silk, quilted in squares: and, altogether, a more chaste and elegant garment seldom appears for our approval. A dress of black silk, with three graduated flounces on the skirt, accompanies this cloak, each flounce edged with reversed points of black velvet. The basquine is cut in square blocks, deeper than the last fashion we reported, and trimmed like the flounces. The bodice is open, and worn with a richly embroidered chemisette. The sleeves flowing, and larger below the elbows than they have been during the season.

The bonnet is of dark blue silk, with divisions of

black velvet points. A tuft of blue feathers, tipped with black, sweeps from the right side to the edge of the bonnet, almost mingling with the blond and flowers that ornament the brim. For a street dress this is both subdued and elegant.

THE BONNETS

We illustrate for November are from the show rooms of Miss Jarvis, 72 Canal street. The one at our right hand is of a delicate fawn colored silk, thickly sprinkled with small white spots, raised from the surface, and scattered over the bonnet as if it had passed through a storm of seed pearls. The crown is rounded, and terminates in several graceful folds at the neck, fastened by a bow of ribbon, which gives a pretty finish to the curtain. Two folds of fawn-colored velvet pass over the crown. The trimming is one of those rich clusters of roses at the right side, creeping in a From the assortment of cloaks, also found at wreath, heavy with mossy buds and leaves, half over Bulpin's, we give one, in our right hand figure, of the front, and interspersed with gold and enameled maroon velvet, embroidered with superb horizontal berries that fall in glittering pendants from among the patterns, in silk, of the same color. The edge is roses. Little as we are disposed to fancy ornaments bordered with a pattern of grape leaves and tendrils, of the precious metals, mingled with flowers, the effect gracefully twined into a wreath, from which a succes- here is beautiful indeed; the golden drops twinkling From Mr. Bulpin's establishment, Broadway, we sion of branches, beginning in grape leaves and ending from among the moss buds as we sometimes watch have selected two mantilla capes, as varied in the tex-in tiny flowers, graduates to the cape. This is enriched dew drops turn to gold when the sunshine strikes a ture of their fur, as nature and opposite climates can by a vine of leaves similar to that on the edge of the thicket, heavy with blossoms, while the dew is upon render them. The first is made of Siberian sable, cloak. For a short, or too stout person, this upright them. A judicious admixture of these golden drops mantilla form, with a small cape, pointed in front, style of embroidery has a fine effect, as it gives an brighten the blond and roses that fill the open brim, the tabs in front terminated with three pendants. appearance of height which does not exist; a desirable which is relieved all round with edgings of lace. The lining is of light brown satin, closely quilted in thing with such persons. The grape leaves in this squares. The front of the cape is fastened by three embroidery are rendered lighter and more graceful by pairs of brown silk buttons, looped together with a cord embroidering the edges and fibres only in satin stitch, and tassels. The cloak falls amply from the shoulders, while the leaf itself is filled with silk lace work, done by

The other bonnet is of that rich chestnut brown satin usually known as tan color. It has what is in home language denominated a cap crown, gathered at the neck in a graceful cluster of folds; a band of ribbon