the large scallops, eight of which form the round. The D'Oyley is afterwards to be finished with narrow cotton fringe. The effect of this D'Oyley, from the contrast of the scarlet and white, and the delicate style of the design, will be found particularly effective. It also washes well, and is easily and quickly worked. The design may also be used on cloth, embroidered in silk, AIGUILLETTE. GRAPE PATTERN CROCHET EDGING. MATERIALS: For Ladies' under Linen, Nos. 10, 12, or 14, Evans's Boar's Head Cotton; for trimming Toilets, Counterpanes, and similar articles, Nos. 6, 8, 10, or 12, Evans' Best Knitting Cotton: with a suitable hook. For such trimming this edging is particularly effective and suitable. Make a chain of the required length, and, for a round article, join it to form a round. In this case the stitches must be divided by 43. 1st row.-S c. 2nd row.X 2 s c., 7 ch., miss 3 X, repeat to the end. 3rd row.-X 3 s c, on centre 3 of 7, 6 chain, X repeat to the end. 4th row (to be worked loosely).-x 2sc on centre 2 of 6, 3 ch., X repeat to the end. Follow this with a row of sc; after which you must work all the half-wheels thus: WHEEL 3 slip, 5 ch., miss 2, 3 slip (these 5 chain form the centre of the wheel). Turn the work on the wrong side. 3 ch, de on the last of the 5 ch, 3 ch, dc on centre of 5; 3 ch, de on 1st of 5; 3 ch, slip on the 1st slip-stitch, and two more along. Turn again, 3 ch, d e on nearest chain of last row, 3 ch, miss 1, 1 dc, 3 ch, miss 1, 1 dc, 3 ch, miss 2, 1 dc, 3 ch, miss 1, 1 de (this is the centre). 3 ch, miss 1, 1 dc, 3 eh, miss 2, 1 de, 3 ch., miss 1, 1 de, 3 ch, miss 2 of the foundation, and slip on the next three stitches. Turn. Work a de stitch on every stitch of last row. Slip along 2 at the end. Turn, and do a se stitch on each, with 2 in one every fourth stitch. Each wheel must be so far completed before proceeding further with the pattern. Begin the next wheel at on the 30th stitch from the last. When so much is done of all the wheels, you will again work complete rows, thus: 1st row. Begin on the 7th stitch before the 1st wheel, x 5s c, 2 ch, miss 1, 1 de, all round the wheel, ending with 2 ch, miss 2 on the foundation; and do 5 more sc, 7 eh, miss 2, 1 dc, 7 ch, miss 3, 1 de, 7 ch, miss 2 x. Repeat along the whole length, 2nd row. X se on centre one of 5 before the wheel, 12 s c on the wheel, 5 ch, withdraw the hook, and insert it in the eighth, missing 4, draw the last chain stitch through; 1 ch, sc under the 5 ch, to cover them, sc on all the wheel but the last 7. 5 ch, take out the hook, and insert in the 5th from it (backward), draw the last chain stitch through, 1 ch, sc under ch of 5, and on the rest of the wheel. 1 sc on 3rd of 5 ch, sc under each of the three following loops to cover them. You now work on the loops only, leaving the wheel, which is complete. Dc on middle of 1st loop; 7 ch, tc on middle of next, 7 ch, tc on the same, 7 ch, dc on centre of next. Turn, and cover each ch with sc. Turn, 3 slip, 9 ch, sc on centre of this loop, 7 ch, dc on centre of next loop, 9 ch, de on same, 7 ch, sc on centre of next loop, 9 ch, slip on last but two of the same loop. Turn, 1 ch, two slip connecting with the side of the loop on the wheel; work under all the loops in s c, till the last, when you join, as before, to the small one on the wheel. Turn, slip-stitch over the loop, and along the wheel for six stitches beyond. 10 ch, sc on centre of 1st loop, 10 ch, sc on centre of next, 10 ch, dc just between this loop and the next, 11 ch, dc on centre of next loop a (the point), 11 ch, dc on same place; this forms the point. The other half is worked to correspond, from a backwards, till you join it to the wheel by a slip-stitch at the centre. Last row of loops, beginning from the middle of the first wheel, on which you do a slipstitch. 5 ch, insert the hook in the first loop, and bring the stitch through, 5 more ch, slip on the centre of the wheel again. 12 ch, sc on centre of next loop, 8 ch, sc on centre of next, 8 ch, s c on centre of next, 8 ch dc bebetween this loop and next, 8 ch; dc on the centre of the loop at the point, 9 ch, another d c on the same place. This last loop is the point. Work the other half to correspond, ending with the centre of the next wheel, from which you work as before, till you come to the end. Last row.-Cover every loop with sc, with a picot of 4 ch over every sc or dc stitch, as well as at the point, and on the 7th of the 12 ch. AIGUILLETTE. BEAD BORDER FOR ANTI-MACASSARS. MATERIALS:-Turquoise, Emerald, or Ruby Beads, No. 2. Evans's Boar's Head Crochet Cotton, This border is especially designed for the anti-macassar given in our number for May. The pattern is so arranged that by placing a star in each corner the design will be repeated in exactly the same manner at the ends as at the sides, the narrow border being carried round to correspond. Of course it is necessary that there be sufficient stitches at the sides and ends to make the patterns complete. Each one requires 40 stitches-3 between the two stars, and 37 for the star itself. There must therefore be, at each side, so many forties, and one 37, as the three stitches between will be wanted at the corner pattern, and not on the side. THE SECRET MINISTER. In the year 1778, Mr. Silas Deane, our first Minister to the Court of France, returned home; and among many conversations I had with him, he related the following facts: That when he was first sent to France, he was to go in the character of a Bermudian merchant; and the better to cover his design, he did not take any considerable sum of money or bills of exchange with him for his support; but the Secret Committee were to send them after him by the way of London, to arrive in Paris nearly as soon as he could himself, lest a capture should betray his secret. He arrived at Paris in safety, and made application to Count de Vergennes to be heard on the subject of the American dispute; but the Count took no notice of him. He repeated his applications in vain. His remittances were all taken or lost, and he soon expended what cash he had brought with him. He became exceedingly distressed, and knew not what to do. His landlady became uneasy, and he found that he should be soon turned into the street. He repeated his applications to the Count with earnestness, but could not gain an interview. Which way to turn he knew not; he walked out into the fields in despair. In his walk, he met with a citizen who lived in the suburbs, with whom he fell into conversation, and finally told him his distress, as a merchant whose remittances had failed, and who in consequence knew not where to get a meal. This man generously took him to his house, and agreed to board him till he should get a remittance from his friends. After waiting some time longer, and finding no hope of seeing Count de Vergennes, he determined on returning to America. He had actually packed up his light wardrobe, and was preparing to embark, when, in the afternoon, he received letters announcing the Declaration of Independence by Congress, and the action of General Arnold on Lake Champlain with the British fleet. Within two hours after, he received a card from Count de Vergennes requesting his company immediately on business of importance. Mr. Deane, being exceedingly chagrined with the treatment he had received, refused to go. The next morning, just as he had got up from bed, the Sieur Gerard called upon him from the Count de Vergennes, insisting on his calling and breakfasting with him. He again refused; but on Mr. Gerard pressing it with warmth, he agreed to go. When he arrived at the Count's, he was received as an old acquaintance, and treated with as much familiarity and friendship as if there had been a long acquaintance between them. A long conversation took place on the American contest, when Mr. Deane acquainted him with his mission and his wants. The Count made the most positive declinations of doing anything to promote the disaffection of her colonies with Great Britain; that France should support her faith with her good ally, Great Britain, and could not hearken to any proposition inconsistent with her treaty with that power. And so they parted, with some assurances, however, that his personal wants should be supplied. The next morning, a man under the name of Mons. Beaumarchais (whom Mr. Deane considered as sent by Count de Vergennes) called upon him, and told him that he had heard that he (Mr. Deane) was a Bermudian merchant, and that he was desirous of contracting with some person for a quantity of merchandise; that he (Beaumarchais) had been a courtier, and had been banished on some affront given at Court; that, lately, he had permission to return; that he was just entering into mercantile speculations, and, if they could agree, he should be glad to serve him. Mr. Deane took the hint, told him that he wanted warlike stores, from a flint to a thirty-six pound great gun; that he could only purchase on a long credit, to be paid in instalments; and that he must also be supplied with a vessel or vessels to carry them to America. Beaumarchais answered that it would take a long time to manufacture so large a demand. Deane said they must be provided immediately, as his wants admitted of no delay. He replied that he was acquainted with the king's armorer, and perhaps he might be prevailed upon to lend him what was wanted, and he would restore them as they were manufactured. In fine, an old frigate was immediately laden with everything that was wanted. But just before she was ready to sail the British minister found it out, and made a spirited memorial to the king. A violent proclamation was the consequence, threatening death and destruction to all concerned in so wicked an attempt, and ordering the frigate to be immediately unloaded. She was accordingly unloaded in the day, and the loading put on board three merchantmen at night; and they sailed in a few days, two of them arriving safe in America, to the great relief of the American army. All this was a profound secret, but was well understood by Congress to be a present from the King of France, but could not be entered on their minutes. After this, the famous Thomas Paine, being then secretary to the Secret Committee, and under oath of secrecy, or some writer in the public papers, divulged the whole business in one of his publications. This brought the French minister forward by a warm memorial to Congress, who found themselves obliged to deny the King of France having anything to do with the transaction, declaring it to have been a common mercantile contract with Beaumarchais. He or his heirs have since taken advantage of this acknowledgment, and have called on Congress to pay the whole purchasemoney, with interest. STRONGER CHAP. III. Monday came: on Tuesday our party was to break up. Twelve months at least must pass before I could hope to see Edith Lyne again, for she was to be quite that time away on the continent. I longed to talk to Edith about myself, my hopes of success, my plans for the future. Frank announced, as we sat at breakfast, his purpose of riding over to the next town for the day. "There is nothing in the world I hate half as much," he said, "as a house turned upside down by packing." My picture was finished, but I made it an excuse for staying at home. I loitered about, impatiently enough, half the day, hoping for some chance of seeing Edith. In vain. Mrs. Fairbank was in her room, unfitted by nervous headache for any exertion. The task of superintending the preparations, and lending a helping hand, fell entirely on her niece. Still, some time or other, it must surely come to an end. I wrote directions, and helped Grey officiously with the boxes down from the landing into the hell. Trunk after trunk, package after package, it seemed as if the last would never come. This piversion to my restlessness coming to an end somewhat late in the afternoon, I went into the sitting-room and took up a book, almost without knowing that I did so. In a few minutes she came in. "I want to put up the last number of Bentley," she said; "I fancy we left it here." "Let me look for it." began hunting about the room. 66 I sprang up, and Why, Mr. Margesson!" cried Edith, with some astonishment, after two or three minutes of unsuccessful search; "surely-yes, it is; you are holding it in your hand !” There it certainly was, turned upside down, just as I had held it before my face on her entrance. I looked rather foolish, tried to laugh and apologise for my stupidity. She was going away with the book, when I spoke it was my last chance. THAN "Shall you be too tired, Miss Lyne, for one more walk; just to say good-bye to the cliffs?" She stood hesitating, her hand on the door. "She is going to refuse," I thought, in an agony. "If I can find time," she said, after a pause, "there is nothing I should enjoy more, after all this packing." To my great delight, in about half-an-hour she reappeared with her bonnet on. The cliffs at this point, where the Dorset joins the Devon coast, are not, as is the fashion of cliffs in general, hard and cruel to pedestrians. They neither cut your feet with flint stones, nor put out your eyes with eternal chalk, or red and yellow sand-stone. On the contrary, these were imagined by nature in the most generous and happiest of her moods. She has carpeted them DEATH. with grass, with thyme, and elastic moss; she has planted thickets as shelter to rare ferns, and support to the tangled masses of woodbine and clamatis, through which the foxglove stands up boldly for light and air; she has made a labyrinth of green pathways, and set up knolls and mounds in plenty as resting-places, where you may dream at your will, with the sea stretched out below you, and its music in your ears. Straight across the cliffs, at some distance from the town of Lymrex, a wall has been thrown. Here, for a long way, they are enclosed. A narrow pathway is left, which ends in an outlet down to the beach. Beyond this point the cliffs are again open; the shore is wild and solitary. A touching story is connected with "Smuggler's Point," as it is called. Very, very many years back, a woman waited there for her husband all through two stormy nights and days. He was a sailor; had been summoned to his ship when their honeymoon was only just passed. The time for his return was close at hand, when his wife dreamed three nights running that he came and bade her watch at Smuggler's Point; for there he should land. The story runs that she believed the vision, and obeyed it; though every means, even force, was tried by her friends to keep her from the spot. At the dawn of the third day, as if some cruel demon mocked the vigil of love, a corpse, lashed to a piece of wreck, was thrown ashore at her feet. Thus she received her husband back, and thence his body was carried through the cliffs to the churchyard at Lymrex. The story grew old; it was well-nigh forgotten, when, a few years back, the Lord of the Manor claimed a right to build this wall across the cliffs, and make them strictly private. The towns-people resisted what they looked upon as an infringement on their privileges; records were examined, ancient precedents searched for a counter claim. On this occasion the old tale of that funeral passage was revived. Two or three eye-witnesses were still living; their testimony proved conclusive, and judgment was given that where that corpse had passed, it made a right of way for ever-a legacy to her native town, from that faithful heart, which then had been long at rest. Down this pathway of the dead we went. I followed Edith-for it was too narrow to walk by her side-with a heavy, dreary feeling-the sense of that long absence from her, now so near at hand; sometimes I steadied her feet, as the stones slipped from them, or rescued her dress from brambles, which stretched out their long arms on either side. At length, coming out on the sea-shore, we rested on a huge slab of rock, and watched the tide as it flowed in. Then I took courage to tell her of my life-hitherto so aimless, so miserably wasted; of my art, and my new hopes of excellence. Still I kept back the words which threatened, in spite of myself, to rush from my lips, and lay all my heart bare before her. If I could I hardly keep them down while I spoke, it was a | could I tell you cared for me? but it has seemed hundred-fold more difficult as she replied. But as if I never could love any one else." I shut my lips resolutely; I drove the rebels Oh! how often the memory of that answer back. She bade me hope for the future; she was to come like music on my solitude! promised me success, and made my heart leap up by saying it would be her joy to witness One thought possessed me as I listened: "Here is my good angel at my side. O God! might she be ever there-through life-at death!" "Give me a subject!" I cried; "only give me a subject; I could paint that better than anything else in the world!" In the midst of that great joy a fear crept: it."What if I should fail?" I whispered. "If I should never earn a right to ask your hand of Frank ?" Her eye kindled. "Look up," she said; "look before us!" and she touched my arm lightly. As," with vision purged with euphrasy and rue," "I turned from her fair face to that of nature. And a glorious scene it was! A magnificent sea ran high up on the beach, so that the rock where we sat was every now and then dashed with spray. The clouds, which had gathered heavily towards noon, were now breaking up and drifting off; while the western sun filled air, sea, and sky with an ineffable light: rock, cliff, and promontory-all stood transfigured in that fervid, passionate glow. Nor was a touch of life wanting-homely, even rude in itself, but it harmonised well with the whole scene. In the foreground to the right, the sturdy Devon coast-men were piling up huge masses of stone into a wagon, drawn by powerful horses. And over all, the strong sea, lifting up its voice, said to my heart: "laborare est orare! laborare est orare!" and my soul answered with a vow that my work should be no less than worship. We watched in silence as the picture slowly changed. That intense light died away, save where it quivered on the topmost crag, or burnt on the distant horizon. The sea hushed its great unrest; rose-coloured clouds came floating up into a softer blue, and all the tender influences of evening gathered round us. As Edith rose to return, I began some indifferent remark; but the strife was useless, those words must come, they would not be gainsayed. "One thing I have kept back till now," I said abruptly, trying hard to keep my voice steady as I spoke. "I would still, but my love is stronger than my will, Edith!" and I took her hand. "All my work must be built on one hope; without that, success is worthless. Tell me at once is that hope vain ?" This appeal, so suddenly made, startled her. Only for one moment before they fell did those true eyes meet mine. I saw her heart speak for All the woman flushed up in her face. I caught her in my arms: that dream had come me. to pass! "Oh! Edith, Edith!" I said at last; "and all this time I have tormented myself, thinking you indifferent, cold-a thousand unjust things I have thought. Forgive me, dearest: tell me how it really was?" "I dared not love," she replied, "How Edith raised her head from my shoulder; she looked straight into my eyes. "You will; I feel you will," she said; "but you shall not be measured by your success. Only work patiently, that will satisfy me, and shall satisfy my friends." I began to plead for a correspondence, but to this she would not consent while her brother was ignorant of what had passed. I felt she was right; of course it was quite out of the question to ask his sanction of any engagement between his sister and me at present. "Let us wait patiently," she said, with her beautiful smile; "I trust to you; you may trust to me. I am glad," she added, blushing and hiding her face again on my shoulder, as she called me by my Christian name, "I am so glad that we have known each other's mind before this long separation." Up that pathway of the dead we two came back together. Not at all too narrow now for me to walk by her side. I held her hand in mine; I supported her on the slippery stones. Oh! with what joy I whispered to her that this was an earnest and a token of our way through life! Only for one minute I saw Edith alone next morning before they left, though I tried hard for a chance of a longer meeting, and I thought she tried to give me one. However, that minute sufficed for her to draw a ring from her finger and put it on mine. "It was my mother's," she said; "I know you will not disappoint me." So they left me. I took lodgings at Lymrex, and stayed there till the spring, working with all my might. Frank sent me one letter from Paris: it was full of Edith's delight at her birthday present. I tried hard to entrap him into a correspondence; but he never wrote a letter if he could help it, and after writing a good many times and getting no reply, I had to give up the attempt from sheer ignorance of his address. However, I found plenty to take up my time and thoughts. The days went as if they had found wings. That picture on which I was working must find a place in the Royal different years; of these, two had been in the Academy. I had sent half-a-dozen there in Exhibition; the other four came back to me decorated with that white cross at the back which we painters do not rejoice in as the badge of the Legion of Honour. On this occasion I never gave way to despondency; I felt inspired to achieve success. I laboured as those did in ancient time, who, in lofty tower and cathedral dome, built up their noble thoughts of Faith and Love-as those old religious painters, whose visions changed to life upon their canvass, How infinitely far my work |