The Confederato Tadies, and Illicit in Her Name That Mos president the pleased

Offering With the

honor to be

Madam

to Accept of

Your Most obedient hunth Tervant Lafayette

Highest Regment of have the

the Congress, when that body of American representatives hesitates and doubts the expediency of accepting those services in the only proper manner, by giving the gallant young soldier a suitable commission, how nobly he evinces the entire absence of selfish considerations and of self-assertion, the sublime purity and marvelous sincerity of his avowed motives, by offering to serve as an unrecognized volunteer without command, and without compensation.

The Nation's noble Father was not slow to comprehend the young French volunteer, nor his. heart to receive and welcome him to the most intimate relations of his military home-circle. Washington saw in Lafayette, not an adventurer, not a seeker after warlike glory, but a pure, disinterested lover, an honest, earnest devotee of the cause which was so dear to his own heart-Washington knew Lafayette, and fully appreciated his noble character at their first interview, and the friendship, or rather the relationship of father and son, then formed, never grew less, but grew stronger and warmer on the part of each until the death of the elder, when there was not in all America a more sincere mourner than the noble Lafayette in his far-away France.

We shall not follow Lafayette in his doings in the American army; the scores of histories of our Revolution all record these, and we are not writing his biography; we have not herein to do with his exploits, but simply to study his character and the nature of his relations to our country.

and well-wisher, but that of a brother-not that of a foreigner, but that of an American patriot.

But we have other impressive illustrations of his warm love for the American Republic. Can we wish a stronger token than his journey to France in 1779 to secure active intervention and assistance for America, and his glad return with the intelligence of his success in obtaining a fleet and an army, besides a considerable supply of clothing, guns, and ammunition? nor was he content with this, he actually purchased with his own money a large quantity of swords and other equinage which he presented to his own command. Then we have his second trip to France, after Comwallis's surrender, when he went zealously to work recruiting an army for his beloved America; the fact that the conclusion of the war and ratification of peace made this army unnecessary does not render Lafayette's effort any less an evidence of his devoted love towards America. But even the fact that the assured independence of the American States rendered his services no longer necessary, could not repress his ardent love he must orce more come over and see the realization of his hopes and prayers, the fruition of his labors, in the establishment of the free Republic. Even the lapse of forty years did not weaken this attachment to the United States, and in 1824, he came gladly in response to an invitation to revisit these prosperous States. And he had ample testimony during this visit that his love of our Nation was heartily reciprocated by the people with absolute unanimity.

So long as our American Republic continues, so long as the American people cherish with fond affec tion the memory of George Washington, even so long should every American cherish, with love second only to that entertained to the great chief, the name and fame of the MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.

REMARKS.-The illustrations accompanying this article have been prepared with special care; the portrait, engraved by Rea, is from a French portrait of Lafayette in 1777, while the small medallion picture is a copy of the portrait

upon the medal voted to the Mar quis by the famous Seventh Regiment, National Guard, of the City of New York, on the Centennial Birthday of Washington, which was illustrated and described in the American Historical Record, 1874

CHAPTER X. NIDDERDALE COTTAGE.

"WHO is Honor Nethecote?"

Dym's curiosity began to feel aggravated by the constant recurrence of this name. Who could this mysterious individual be, who seemed to be the presiding spirit of the day, so that nothing could be done without her supervision? Was she young, or old? If she were Humphrey's sister, was she plain and freckled as he was? Dym wondered. There is nothing like a mystery to excite interest. An unconscious fascination impelled Dym to every spot where Honor Nethecote's name was mentioned-it seemed to be on the lips of every one, rich or poor.

"Honor's taste-how beautiful!" from Mrs. Trevor. "Miss Nethecote-ah, she promised Doll her fuchsia should be put in a good place." The latter sotto voce from a lame, sickly-looking girl, who with one crutch was trying to push her way through a throng of merry-faced lasses. "Ah, where's Phil, I wonder," with a patient sort of sigh that excited Dym's compassion.

"You are tired-can I help you to find your friends? It must be very fatiguing for you in this hot tent and with all this crowd," says Dym, in her pleasant voice.

bands tune up as briskly as though they were in the Cheltenham or Montpelier gardens. Mrs. Chichester and her court have retired to the coolest tent; the villagers are beginning to come in, in knots of twos and threes. Dym sees Phillis walking with her fellow-servants from the Hall. Mistress Dorothy, in her black silk and Paisley shawl, curtsies primly as she passes the hillock where Dym and her lame companion sat.

"I should like to hear all about it, Grace," says Dym, settling herself comfortably against the treetrunk; and Grace, nothing loth, complies.

It was a long story, but Dym did not weary of it-possibly because it reminded her of Will's, wherein Mr. Chichester was ever the hero; without doubt he was Grace's hero. The little dressmaker's eyes filled with tears when she spoke of his generosity and goodness.

Grace Dunster lived over Burgess, the tailor's ; she had two little rooms there, which she called home. But she did not live alone; she had two young sisters, whom she had to maintain with her needle.

You had better see it closer," returns Dym, kindly. She pilots a way for the lame girl, and stations her very carefully where she can get a good view of the precious flower. She has no idea that this is the object of Guy Chichester's chivalry this morning-the lame dressmaker, Grace Dunster. Grace looks up with sparkling eyes. "Isn't it beautiful? I wish Doll could see how well it looks. If it had been a child we couldn't have tended it more. Phil used to wash its leaves and count the buds every morning. I think the squire will be pleased with it. Phil will carry it up when the show is over."

"Is it a present for the squire ?" asks Dym, with a winning look. She hears all about it presently, when she and Grace are sitting together on a shady seat on a hillock under some trees. The

And then Grace related, but very briefly, how her foot had been bad from a child, and how it grew worse and worse, "till the bone seemed to be on fire with the pain ;" and Grace worked on by day, and cried herself to sleep at night, but softly, so as not to awake Phil; and how her face grew pale and pinched-like with the constant trouble of it, and folks said she would go into consumption and die; and then how this came about to the squire's ears, and one day, when Grace was sitting alone, sobbing a bit over her work-just for relief's sake-the squire and Miss

Nethecote came in together, and were both of them so kind, and the squire asked her if she would be a good, brave girl, and do what he told her; and when she said " Yes," but very wanderingly, he told her that Miss Nethecote had offered to take Phil and Doll home to Nidderdale Cottage, and promised her old servant should look after Doll; but that he was going to send Grace down to a grand London hospital, where the cleverest doctors in the world would see her poor foot, and tell her what must be done to it; and when Grace cried, though it was only out of pure gratitude and joy like, "at being so thought of, miss," he promised there and then that he would come up to London and see her.

And he kept his word, and came twice or thrice into the great hospital ward when the amputation was over, and Grace was relieved of her life-long burden; nay, more, when the doctors said it would be long before she would be strong and fit for work again, he sent her to another beautiful hospital, built somewhere on the seashore, where for six happy weeks Grace could see the waves rippling over the sand, and drink in health with the sweet sea-breezes.

Nor did his kindness end there; "for if he did not meet me himself at the station and bring me home in his fine open carriage, which will hold eight comfortable, miss; and there I found Phil and Doll and Miss Nethecote, and the tea-table all dressed up with flowers, just as though it were a school feast. Why, it is making you cry, miss, I declare !"

Dym did actually brush away a tear. The narrative, simple as it was, moved her to tearful interest. What a great benevolent heart it must be that could interest itself in the trouble of a poor seamstress! Other men were doubtless as generous as Mr. Chichester; many a one would have sent the poor little sufferer to the London hospital, and, perhaps, even to the convalescent home-the lives of rich men abound in such deeds of largesse and almsgiving-but who among these Dives in purple would have troubled themselves with even a thought of the girl lying lonely and home-sick in her distant ward, pining for news of Doll and Phil, and ready to cry her eyes out with joy over the beautiful letter Miss Nethecote had sent, enclosing a note in round hand from Phil; and who but the squire would have brought his carriage around to the station door, and himself

supported poor little Grace's tottering steps down those dreadful stone stairs! But the climax of the story, the flower-decked table, brought her back to the old grievance: "Who was iss Nethecote ?" And she was about to put some leading question to Grace when Mr. Nethecote himself appeared at the foot of the hillock.

He doffed his straw hat, and looked so hard at Dymn that she felt frightened. She found out afterwards that he was very short sighted.

"Miss Elliott-ah, Grace, how d'ye do? In pleasant company, I see-Miss Elliott, the squire wants you to come down to the tent and have some refreshments, before it is too hot and crowded.”

He had not forgotten her, then? Dym looked pleased, but returned rather diffidently that she would rather stay where she was, unless Mrs. Chichester wanted her.

"Madam doesn't want you," returned Mr. Nethecote brusquely; "there's a regular bevy of dowagers in there," nodding contemptuously to the tent below. "See the conquering Hero comes,' that's out of compliment to you, squire," as Guy Chichester's broad shoulders appeared below. "Here is a rebel for you! Miss Elliott won't obey orders-rather stop where she is."

Mr. Chichester looked up and smiled. "As though you can expect anything but contradiction. from a woman, Humphrey," in a tone of unusual benevolence. "Can't you bring her and Grace something good up there? Miss Elliott, I think after all you put on that pink gown for effectyou are so determined to show it. Halloo, Berwick, what are you after?" as the boy rushed past him, panting and breathless.

"I am only going to the house to fetch my wickets and bat, cousin Guy; those fellows up there want to get up a game of cricket. Well, what now, squire?" as Guy coolly took him by the shoulders and marched him off in a different direction, to where a knot of boys were assembled.

"I say, you boys, who proposed cricket ?"

The squire's tone was so awful, that consternation and silence prevailed, till a small boy said, "Burgess, sir ;" and was instantly hustled to the front.

"Who was that who peached on the other? Tim Rydell? Tim, I pity your father. wouldn't be the father of a sneak. Burgess, stand forward."

"Yes, squire."

future."

"We are sorry, sir." "I wish I had knocked

"You are the boy who seduced stilts and monkeys into this ground, and now you propose cricket."

"Well, we tossed up heads and tails, and cricket came down heads; and Brooks said dancing was slow, and we couldn't manage prisoner's base, and Master Burke he offered to fetch his bat and things; and it is such a nice smooth bit of land, squire," finished Ned, in a wheedling tone.

added Ned remorsefully; and "Cousin Guy, I'll just carry my bat back," from Berwick.

Well, is Justice appeased, Mr. Chichester?" "Oh, go your ways, boys," was the squire's somewhat irritated answer; "next time, when Miss Nethecote is not by to beg you off, I'll thrash the whole lot of you." This terrible threat was received with a shout of laughter; and the crowd merrily dispersed.

"Got her innings as usual," muttered Mr. Chichester, as he went back to join the ladies; and Humphrey Nethecote came back to Dym with the good things he had provided for her and Grace. "Which was Miss Nethecote ?" she asked, lean

Boys, Ber

"Please, squire"-a chorus of "O sir!" "Not a word. I hate insubordination. you all know me that I will be minded. wick, you deserve a thrashing; only your mother would never forgive me; nevertheless, you and Burgess, as ringleaders, must quick march off the field; and you may take that little sneak Tim Rydell with you. Come, be off with you!" "Nay, nay, I'll go bail for them, squire," in Humphrey Nethecote's tones.

"No bail!" was the severe answer.

"Boys, come to me; I will take you under my protection. Mr. Chichester, you cannot refuse a favor to a lady-please grant a general amnesty and pardon the ringleaders."

"Too bad, Miss Nethecote-you have always a trick of turning up when you are not wanted. I am not in a mood for forgiveness."

Dym peeped forward, but there was such a crowd around the squire and the boys that, in spite of her elevated position, it was impossible to see clearly; there were several ladies standing near, all strangers to Dym, but the voice did not belong to them-it evidently proceeded from one of the tent-doors.

"In spite of your remarks, justice must be tem

ing Grace, did not hear her question. By-and-by, when they had finished, and Grace, having sighted Phil from below, had hastily adjusted her crutch and gone down in search of her, this singular individual came and stationed himself against the tree trunk.

"Don't let me detain you. I mean, there is plenty of room to sit down," Dym hastily added, fearing she had been rude.

66

"Eh, what? I am afraid I did not hear you. Oh, there is no occasion for me to go down just. yet-and the squire asked me particularly to look after you."

"He is very kind," answered Dym, in a low voice.

"Kind! Ah, the squire's always kind, except to those boys just now. Ah, Honor had him there. I told Honor once that the squire ought to be a Jew; he is so careful to carry out that bit of the Mosaic law about the widow, the fatherless, and the stranger. I should think you found that out at St. Luke's, didn't you?" with an interrogative glance.

Dym wondered what Mr. Nethecote would have thought if he had heard the story of Ned Smithers. Not but what it was all of a piece with Grace Dunster's hero. Will had done well to warn her against hero-worship. She assented very quietly to Mr. Nethecote's question. To tell the truth, the worthy Yorkshireman somewhat bored Dym, who was a very lively little creature; he had