"I am quite contented as I am," said Mrs. Gaynor, coldly. "I do not desire-"

"Oh, yes, I know," interrupted Lydia Walton; "there never was such another nurse -so kind, so considerate, and so skillful; and, I suppose, when you do a thing well, you get in time to like it. Not that it would ever suit me," she continued; "I mean, to make a profession of it as you do. There is nothing I could not do for a person I love, if I had any one to love; but to have to be at the beck and call of any one-to dress their wounds, and to give them their medicine, and bear their ill-tempers-lor', nothing would induce me to do it. I would sooner be a singer with five turns in different halls every night."

Mrs. Walton's face was flushed when she had finished speaking, and she sunk back in her chair as though fatigued.

"I told you you were over-exciting yourself," said the nurse, sitting down by her and soothingly laying her hand on the patient's. "There are some compensations even in this life," she said, pursuing the train of thought which the other had started. "It is something to be able to give ease to those who are in pain, and to help the weary to their rest; it is something to be able to forget one's own self in administering to the dire necessities of others, and in- I think you had better sit quietly now," she said, checking herself, "and not worry yourself any more about Mr. Burton; depend upon it, he will come as soon as he is free." "It is all very well for you to talk about sitting down quietly," said Lydia Walton, with asperity; "you have been bustling about all the morning, and are tired and like to rest yourself; but I have done nothing but look blankly out of this window, like sister Anne, waiting for somebody to come, and I want to be amused."

"Shall I read the paper to you?" said Mrs. Gaynor, cheerfully. "I have no doubt I can find something to interest you in it."

"I should doubt it very much indeed, and I won't trouble you," said the patient. "I do not care a bit about politics, and the funds, and what the swells are doing; such matters never amused me, even when I knew something about them. If we had the Era now, you might find something in it, as I like to hear about what is going on in the profession-but there, never mind, don't trouble yourself."

Mrs. Gaynor had had sufficient length of trait ing as a nurse to know that in her patient's im table state any further attempt to sooth her wound be useless; so she refolded the newspaper which she had opened, laid it on the table, and took "p some sewing, with which she silently occupied herself. In about ten minutes a light foot was heard on the stair, and Clement Burton appeared in the room. His presence was so genial, and his smile of salutation so sweet, that it was customary for his patients to say that he brought sunshine with him. Even poor Lydia Walton, "cranky," as she often described herself, was not exerte from this pleasant influence, and greeted Mr. Bur ton's advent with a smile.

"You have come at last, doctor," she said. looking up at him.

"At last!" repeated Clement Burton. "It almost worth while incurring the implied rebuke to know that I have been expected."

"Not much of a compliment, when you are the only person whose coming breaks the dread:." dullness of one's life," said Lydia Walton, with 1 smile which lit up her face, and gave those wre saw it a faint notion of her former beauty; “but I forgive you."

"You would do more than forgive me if you knew all," said Mr. Burton. "Though I have not been with you, I have been talking about you a great deal, and I am going to ask your permis sion to bring a good friend of mine, a lady, to see | you."

"Oh, Lord!" said Lydia Walton, in com horror, "I don't want any ladies to come and see me."

"Why, just now you were complaining of the dullness of your life," said Clement, laughing at the intensity of her expression.

"Yes; but one had better be dull than have one's lodgings invaded by some old frump, wo only comes to stare at what a music-hall singer is like, and who has a lot of tracts dribbling out of her pocket."

"The lady of whom I am speaking cannot be well called an old frump," said Clement Burton, continuing to laugh, "as she is young and very good-looking. However, since you seem to have taken fright, I won't bring her to you, at ali events, for the present. Well, Mrs. Gaynor, and how is the arm?"

"Making daily progress, I think," said the

that time the required information shall be furnished."

Lydia Walton folded up this paper, placed it in an envelope, and addressed it to "G. M., the Hermitage, Campden Hill."

"That will gain a little time," she muttered; "and that was all I could hope for just now. It has come upon me so suddenly, that I do not know what to think, or how to act. In a week, perhaps, I shall be able to do something with this wretched arm; not that what I have done just now will improve its condition."

She pulled a string, the loop of which hung around the arm of her chair, while the other end was attached to the bell, and waited for the answer. Presently, the woman of the house appeared-an unmistakable lodgings' landlady, with a flushed face and a carnying manner.

"What, all alone, dear?" she cried, as she entered the room. "What has become of that sweet Sister Gaynor, who is supposed to be so attentive?"

"She has gone out for a few minutes, Mrs. Frost," said Lydia Walton. "She looked so pale and peeky, that I insisted upon her trying the effect of a little fresh air, and I have persuaded her to walk around Russell square for half an hour."

"Such a kind soul you are," said the landlady; "always thinking of those about you. Now, what can I do for you?"

"Do something for yourself first, Mrs. F.," said Lydia, with a smile. "Take this key and open that cupboard, where you will find a decantur, and help yourself to a glass of that old port which you like so much."

"Just what I said," murmured the landlady, doing as she was bid; "always thinking of the comfort of others."

"And, now then, do something for me, or rather for Mrs. Gaynor, who wrote this letter before she went out, and has left it behind her. I know she was particularly anxious that it should be posted at once, and that she would be sorry when she found she had forgotten it. Do you mind sending your girl with it now?"

"Too delighted to oblige, dear," said the landlady, taking the letter from her. "I will send it off at once; and if Sister Graynor does not come in soon, don't you mind ringing again; and I will come upstairs and sit with you, if you are anyways dull."

"She won't mention anything about it to nur Gaynor," said Lydia Walton to herself, after ! e woman had left the room. "That glass of wire will make her sleepy and she will take a nap, the lazy old wretch; and even if she did mention the letter, she would not recollect the address of it G. M. eh! and the Hermitage! What a queer name for a place. I wonder what it all means.”

Late that afternoon the letter reached its destination. Miss Middleham had a small dinnerparty, and she and her guests were strolling in the grounds when it arrived. She took it up with a number of others from the hall table, and runni her glance over them, said, in a low tone, to C.ment Burton, who happened to be close by ne "The advertisement has borne fruit already; here is a letter for 'G. M.'"

"Don't be too excited about it," he whispere "That is a useless injunction," she reple! "Make yourself agreeable to these people wiel step aside and read it.”

In a few minutes Grace rejoined her guests As she approached, Clement Barton eagerly looked for the expression on her face. There was to flush on it; no triumph; no excitement; and s shook her head with a disappointed air. As On as they could exchange a word, she said to muta:

"It is a mistake, after all. George Heath a perhaps, a common name; at all events, tre wrong person has answered the advertisement."

"The letter is not from Miss Studley, then?' asked Clement Burton.

"No indeed," said Grace. "I knew from: first glance that the address was not in Anne's handwriting, but I hoped the inclosure might b Look at it, however," she said, withdrawing the note from her pocket. This is not Annes hand; it is not even the writing of an educated person-the whole thing is sprawling, and te letters are badly formed."

"I do not quite agree with you," said the surgeon, after a pause, during which he had narrow y looked at the letter; "the writing is not that of an uneducated woman, but rather that of a person who has attempted it with a hurt or maimed

hand.”

"You may be right," said Grace, "but it ev dently does not come from Anne, and there interest in it ends. There is nothing to be dore now but to obey the injunctions of the writer-to withdraw the advertisement, and to wait for a week."

Trimilki.-Spencer has clothed his May with all the attributes of poetry:

"Then came fair May, the fairest maid on ground, Deck'd all with dainties of her season's pride, And throwing flowers out of her lap around; Upon two Brethren's shoulders she did ride, The Twins of Leda; which on either side Supported her like to their sovereign Queen : Lord how all creatures laugh'd when her they spied, And leap'd and danc'd as they had ravish'd been, And Cupid self about her fluttered all in green." The Saxon name of the month has a pastoral charm about it which is as delightful as the gorgeous imagery of the great poet. "The pleasant month of May they termed by the name of Trimilki, because in that month they began to milk their kine three times in the day." The illumination of the Calender carries us into the pleasant fields, where the sheep are nibbling the thymy grass, and the old shepherd, seated upon a bank, is looking upon the lamb which the laborer bears in his arms. The shepherd describes his duty in the Colloquy of Afric: "In the first part of the morning I drive my sheep to their pasture, and stand over them in heat and in cold with dogs, lest the wolves destroy them. I lead

them back to their folds and milk them twice a day, and I move their folds, and make cheese and butter; and I am faithful to my lord." The garments of the Anglo-Saxons, both male and female, were linen as well as wolled; but we can easily judge that in a country whose population was surrounded by vast forests and dreary marshes, wool, the warmer material of clothing, would be of the first importance. The fleece which the shepherd brought home in the pleasant summer season was duly spun throughout the winter, by the females of every family, whatever might be their rank. King Edward the Elder cammanded that his daughters should be instructed in the use of the distaff. Alfred, in his will, called the female part of his family the spindle side. At this day, true to their ancient usefulness (the form of which, we hope not the substance, has passed away), unmarried ladies are called spinsters. But the AngloSaxon ladies attained a high degree of skill in the ornamental work belonging to clothing. The Norman historian record their excellencies with the needle, and their skill in embroidery. Minute descriptions of dress are not amongst the most amusing of reading, although they are highly valuable to the systematic chronicler of manners. It may be sufficient for us to point attention, first to the

cloaks, the plain and embroidered tunics, and the shoes of the malès. These were the loose and flowing garments of the superior classes, a costume certainly of great beauty. The close tunic of the laborers is distinguished by the same fitness for the rank and occupation of the wearers. The practice of bandaging or cross-gartering the hose is indicated in many Anglo-Saxon drawings. Secondly, the ladies wore a long and ample garment with loose sleves (the gunna, whence our gown), over a closerfitting one, which had tight sleeves reaching to the wrist; over these a mantle was worn by the superior classes, and a sort of hood or veil upon the head. Those who desire further information upon the subject of the Anglo-Saxon costume may consult Mr. Planche's valuable little work upon "British Costume," or the " Pictorial History of England," Book II., Chap. VI.

Charles Peale Polk, the Artist.-The enquiry in your MONTHLY of March, 1876, together with the reply of Mr. Saffel, in the April number, having been sent to me by a friend, I take the liberty of addressing you a few lines, giving you, from family papers in my possession, information in reply to the questions in the first number as to whether he was an Englishman, or a native American. In the first place, I shall give you his antecedent family history. The earliest record of the family begins with Robert and Magdalen Pollock (or Polk). Robert Pollock, whose father was a Scotch Baron, settled in the County of Donegal, Ireland, in the time of James I. Robert Pollock married Magdalen Porter, (the widow of Colonel Porter), who was the daughter of Colonel Tasker. Being strong Presbyterian's, and concerned in the troubles of those times in connection with Cromwell and Charles I., they were among the number who were compelled to fly the country when Charles II. came to the throne after the death of Cromwell. About 1660, Robert and Magdalen Pollock, together with their six sons and two daughters, set sail for America, and settled in the then Colony of Lord Baltimore and now Somerset county, Maryland, at a place now known as Dame's Quarter. All of the sons married and became the progenitors of numerous families. From one of the sons were descended the late President, James K. Polk, General Thomas Polk, of Mecklenburg fame, Bishop and Lieutenant-General Leonidas Polk and others. From another son, Governor Charles Polk, of Delaware, deceased, and from another, the present Ex-Governor Trustea Polk, of Missouri. From Robert, the fifth son of Robert and Magdalen, is descended the Artist. This Robert -of Robert and Magdalen-married a Miss Giulette, and had a son Robert, who married Miss Peale, sister of Charles Peale, the founder of Peale's Museum. This latter Robert, father of Charles Peale Polk, was a distinguished naval officer in the French War, and was mortally wounded on board his ship by a splinter, during a desperate engagement. His portrait, in uniform, was in the possession of Charles Peale Polk, at whose death it fell into the hands of his (Charles'), widow, who took it te Fredericksburg, Virginia, since which time we have no trace of it, although I have tried to find it. Charles Peale Polk had two sisters, Elizabeth and one other. Charles Peale Polk was three times married, first to Miss Ruth Ellison, of New Jersey, by whom

he had children, Elizabeth E., Robert, Josiah, David, Anva M. P., Edward, Theodore, Caroline, Franklin and Ru His second wife, to whom he was married in 1811, was the widow Brockenbrough, of Virginia, and by her he had re child, Columbus C. Polk, who went to sea and was never afterwards heard of. Charles Peale Polk's third wife wa Miss Ellen B. Downman, of Virginia. By her he had te child, Ellen B. Charles Peale Polk died in 1822, aged st. Some of his descendants are now risiding in Philade ¡ha, among whom are Mrs. Laura Hall and her brother, Dıvıl F. Polk. Elizabeth, the sister of Charles Peale Polk, me. ried the Rev. Dr. Bend, of Christ Church, Baltimore, `: they left no children-at least there is no record of s.1 among the papers in my possession. Edward, one of the sons of Charles Peale Polk by his first marriage, was an officer in the United States Army, and died unmame. You will, therefore, perceive that Charles Peale Polk was not an Englishman, though it is probable that he stu lied in England, under West, as did his uncle, Charles Wilson Pealt, who painted the "Roman Daughter," the "Court of Death,' as well as numerous portraits of the distinguished men and women of his times. Charles Peale Polk no doubt inhented his talent for painting from the Peale family, as we have t knowledge of any of the Polks since then being deveter the Art. Robert, the naval officer, and father of Chures Peale was a brother of my great grandfather, and my grante father was visiting them at Philadelphia when the Declara tion was read, and volunteered in the Pennsylvania L re As to Charles Peale Polk's service in the Army, I kn w nothing; but think it exceedingly probable that he was n ́t behind his numerous relations in attesting his devotion to the cause of freedom.

WILLIAM H. POLK.

Notes Omitted-The rejoinder by Mr. Evans to Mr Henry in reference to "the Expeditions of George Roges Clark," shall appear in the June MONTHLY; we beg to thank Mr. Crossley for his article, but judge it best to omit it, because he is evidently mistaken as to the facts on which he predicates it, as we think he will see if he again reads the paper referred to by him; besides, we cannot see any good probably to result from writing of a dead man's sins, when the sins themselves have no vitality to injure the living.

"Miss Seward's Monody."-In the April MONTHLY, we gave a paper by Mr. Charles B. Carlisle on the alve subject. Dr. Lossing, in a private letter, expresses dia's as to the supposed correspondence between Miss ward and General Washington, and adds: "I cannot but think tha the letter signed Anna Seward' is a forgery. Mr. Carst says the Monody' was published in 1789; I have a copy f the first edition, printed at Litchfield in 1781, with the auto graph of Miss Seward attached."

"The Charter- Oak."-Among the papers we have a one on "The Charter Oak," by W. T. R. Saffell, which we have been holding for some time, hoping to find an accurate picture of it from which to engrave an illustration to acc pany the paper-can any one of our readers tell us where to find such a picture?