directions for the crochet pattern:-Take chain between the six long of the last Bumber 4 of Boar's Head Crochet Cotton, row), three chain, three long, three chain, and commence by making a chain of loop in, five chain, loop in, and repeat the forty-two stitches in length; turn round, long stitches. Continue these rows until and work one long stitch in every loop, there are seven in depth. On the last with one chain between every other long row, work three long, three chain, three stitch: this is to form the circular shape long, three chain; loop into the three for the top. Second row.-Work one long chain between the long stitches of the and three chain, leaving two loops be- last row. This is for the first border of tween the last row. Third row. Five the pocket The second border must be chain, loop in, five chain, loop in, three commenced in the same manner, but chain, three long, three chain, three long, must be made the length required. three chain; loop in these six long loops, and work on one loop of the last row, SHAWL BORDER IN IMITATION CHANfive chain, loop in, five chain, loop in. TILLY LACE.-We here present our readers Fourth row.-Five chain, loop in, three with an engraving of a shawl border from chain, three long stitches worked on the the stock of Mr. W. Vickers, of Nottingthe three chains in last row, three chain; ham, who made a large and worthy show three long, three chain; three long (these of like fabrics at the International Exhisix long stitches are worked in the three bition, and has long upheld the renown VOL. III.-NEW SERIES. Σ of England in this important branch of made. We understand that this Notits staple manufactures. This example tingham lace is becoming very fashionis the produce of the Pusher Lace able, and for this reason introduce it to Machine. The fabric, on leaving the the attention of our readers. Mr. Vickers machine, undergoes the process of em- employs a very large number of female broidery by hand, in order more clearly in this and other work of a like characte to define the outline of the design. The Princess of Wales has, we have Various articles of this description are reason to believe, given orders for several manufactured, chiefly shawls, scarfs, articles in Nottingham lace, as well as mantles, tunics, flounces, &c., in imitation bestowing her patronage upon the rib of the real lace of Chantilly and Bayeuse, bons of Coventry. Lace and ribbons to which it bears a close resemblance in always form an attractive feature of a the structure of the net, and the general lady's attire, either for morning, evening, effect produced. As will be supposed, or promenade costume; and we are glad however, much difference exists in the -for the sake of the workers, no less than prices of which the two articles are pro- for that of the wearers-that so delicate, duced, the one being wholly due to hand appropriate, and graceful a style is coming labour, and the other principally machine into vogue. IN THE FIRELIGHT. A small Ar the door of a splendid mansion in Arthur's mother and Mrs. Hunter were the principal street of a town noted for second cousins; both had married early its wealth and extensive commerce, stood in life. The former because she loved a tall and intellectual looking youth with all her heart a man every way about twenty; his dark brown hair, waving worthy of her best affection, the latter, be gracefully over a full broad forehead, cause it was an advantageous settlement, and clear eyes of the same colour, gave and conferred upon her wealth and station. an air of truth and frankness to his face. besides giving her a kind and indulgen The lower features were far from fault- husband. Worldly-wise individuals may, less, but a happy, good humoured smile perhaps, pronounce her choice the wisest, wreathed his lip, as he took a letter from for Henry and Alice Ogilvie had the his pocket, and gazing at the superscrip- world before them, with only their faith tion, murmured, "Mrs. Hunter! Ahem I in each other, and £200 a year, to wand wonder what will be the result of this off alike, its smiles and sneers. letter of introduction to my mother's fine-incumbency annually yielding the above lady cousin! I expect she will turn up stipend, and a few pupils, were the only her aristocratic nose at a distant relative means the young clergyman had to keep she has never seen, or, perhaps, even heard poverty away from his loved ones. Arthur of. Well, I am not about to solicit a was the only son out of a large family of favour at her hands. So here goes!" and girls, two older than himself, who, at the applying his hand to the bell, the lusty time of his leaving the paternal roof, were peal soon brought a "man of plush" to the learning, as governesses, the great lesson of door. Upon being admitted, Arthur Ogilvie life" to labour and wait." A short followed his conductor through various time previous, Mr. Ogilvie received a crowded passages with beautiful statuary letter from an old friend, who, having no and articles of vertu, and was at length child of his own, offered to defray Arthur's ushered into a spacious apartment, where we will leave him, and gain a little insight as to the reason of his appearance at that particular house at that precise moment. college expenses. This offer was gladi accepted, as the boy's dearest wish had been to follow his father's steps. And now, as his bright dreams seemed about to be realised, he set out, his heart beating high with hope and expectation. His mother's letter to her cousin, was to bespeak her countenance and kindness towards the youth, who, for the first time had been deprived of a mother's tender care, a father's counsel, and a sister's love. And now we return to him as he stood in the presence of Mrs. Hunter. Having perused the epistle Arthur handed her, she rose and cordially greeted the young man, which greeting made him feel at home with his mother's fine-lady cousin. She possessed a kind heart, did Mrs. Hunter, though fashionable life had somewhat chilled the inherent warmth of her nature. An invitation to spend the evening was the result of a long conversation, but some business calling Mrs. Hunter from the room, Arthur was left to his own reflections. His first act was to glance round the apartment, and a half sigh escaped him, as his eye scanned the splendour that surrounded him. As he was thinking how many gratifications money could procure, and picturing to himself what his own humble future would probably be, the door opened, and the slight figure of a young girl appeared, bearing all the blushing beauties of "sweet sixteen." Her soft hair fell in golden plenitude over her fair shoulders, and her merry blue eyes danced and sparkled, as they fell upon the tall form of our hero. Going up to him, half shyly, yet brave in her conscious innocence and unconscious beauty, she placed her hand in his, saying, in low musical accents, "I am Maude Hunter, and am come to take you to papa, who is in the study." Arthur gazed on the youthful form of his com. panion, his own eyes falling beneath the clear gaze of her's, and, as she stood there, the crimson velvet curtains casting their warm glow over her cheek, and the flames of a winter fire bathing her hair in a ray of deeper sunshine, he thought, but, I do not suppose he could have told you what he thought, nor can I pretend to tell; so, still holding her hand, he accompanied her to her father. Thus Arthur Ogilvie and Maude Hunter met, for the first time, "in the firelight." * Three years pass over, and we again meet Arthur Ogilvie in the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Hunter. His studies finished, a degree taken, and about to depart for a distant town to take possession of the curacy to which he had been ordained, he stands before them in all the strength of his early manhood, this time, indeed, to ask a favour at their hands, even the priceless boon of their darling child. Throughout his college career he had ever found a warm welcome from his relatives, and constant association with the fair being who came to him like a spirit from dreamland on the evening of his arrival, had taught him still more deeply to feel, even as he did then, that the world, henceforth, held no form so fair or dear to him as that of Maude Hunter. And she, the fairy child of that first interview, was she still "fancy-free?" still a stranger to the "fearful gift, that, on thy heart is laid, O woman! a power to suffer and to love?" Be that as it may, Arthur was in her parents' presence, asking them to sanction his love, for his was too honourable a nature, to seek to win Maude without their consent. Their kindness had been so constant, and their approbation of his career so earnest, that his warm heart anticipated no ultimate denial, though he expected a probationary period to be demanded ere he took Maude from a wealthy home, to share what would be, in comparison, but a humble lot. Thus he stood before his relatives, strong in his holy and fervent love; and, having poured forth his petition, he awaited, with beating heart, their permission to seek their daughter, and hear from her own lips the sweet words-"I love thee." And something in the young man's head that infallible instinct which lovers always seem to possess-told him those words would not be wanting. The answer came at last, dashing all the bright hopes of youth and manhood to the ground. Mr. and Mrs. Hunter acknowledged the warm interest they took in his (Arthur's) welfare, owning his merit, and praising his honourable candour in thus placing his cause in their hands first; but Maude might not wed a poor man; she was born to grace a higher station, and they would never consent to see her the wife of any who could not "Good-bye, Arthur!" murmured she; "but you must come and see us often, whenever your parish can spare you." "Dearest Maude, we are parting now for years, in all probability perhaps for ever; but you will not forget the companion of your youth, will you?” bestow on her the luxuries of her early go, and, taking her hand, he bade her youth. In vain Arthur pleaded; mam-adieu. mon usurped the place of mother-love; and, having exhausted all his eloquence, he turned away bitterly, saying, "I cannot come here again; but may I not see Maude-Miss Hunter-before I go?" "Oh! certainly," replied Mrs. Hunter; "but I trust to your honour not to make her acquainted with your sentiments." Arthur's lip curled slightly, as he said, "Fear not, madame! Arthur Ogilvie will never seek your daughter against her parent's wish. No!" added he to himself, not if my heart broke in the struggle to conceal my feelings." "That is well, my dear Ogilvie," said Mr. Hunter; but cheer up, man; you are young yet, and will find many a girl with charms sufficient to dissipate this first love-dream. Maude is in the diningroom; go and make your parting address." Arthur coldly took the hand held out, and turned away, his face bearing testimony to the conflicting emotions raging in his breast; but, ere he reached the dining-room, his features had regained their composure, and none could have guessed the warfare going on beneath that calm exterior. He paused, with his hand on the lock, as a sweet voice was heard within, warbling an air they had both sung in happier hours; and the thought that such might never be again, almost overcame him, and he half determined to fly, lest the temptation should prove too strong. But "I must see her once more, my beautiful darling!" was his thought, and he entered. There she stood, clad in white garments, while over face and figure fell those rosy hues which once before made her beauty almost ethereal. Arthur placed himself by her side, and, in calm tones, measured and respectful, he told her of his approaching departure to his country curacy. And she, interested in whatever concerned him, questioned the how? when? and where of his future plans, till, in relating his hopes and aims for bringing his parishioners to the knowledge of a heavenly love, he almost forgot the bright dream of earthly affection that was fading from his view. At length he rose to "Parting for years! forget you, Arthur? never!" Her voice faltered, and the strange alteration that came over her features, told Arthur a tale which, but for his promise to her parents, would have prompted him to fold her to his heart; but honour forbade it; and, while the full knowledge came to him that he was loved, he had to put from him the priceless gift, and, pressing her hand to his lips in one passionate kiss, he fled, fearing to trust himself longer, lest words he might not speak should find utterance. Turning for one more look, as he passed the window, he saw Maude fling herself on her knees by the sofa, and bury her face in its cushions, her slender form shaking by the sobs she strove in vain to check. Oh! this was anguish indeedto know that he condemned her to suffer as well as himself. But, even amid his sorrow for her, came the blissful thought that she did love him; and, though her parents might forbid her hand to rest in his, they could not prevent her heart from loving where it would. Thus, “in the firelight," Arthur Ogilvie and Maude Hunter again met, and--parted. Two years more, and the Hunters were no longer "dwellers in high places." A commercial panic had laid low their worldly pride, and the haughty head of mammon's worshipper was in the dusteven the dust of death. Mrs. Hunter and Maude left their beautiful home in the hands of strangers, and went forth to find rest in those humbler walks of life, once so despised. Arthur, on the contrary, had reaped the reward of his earnest continuance in well-doing, and, on the death of his pastor, mounted another step on the ladder of life. The pretty vicarage of Beaconburn was now his home; and, a devoted labourer in his |
