Late in the afternoon a handsome carriage drove up to the house, from which alighted a foreign-looking gentleman, of some twenty-five years, who was pronounced to be an English acquaintance of Mrs. Lion's who had been invited to the wedding. And a wedding, true enough, it was, for Dr. Mannerly came hurrying along toward the minister's about dark, equipped from top to toe, and wearing the white vest that decided him to be the happy man. And now the uninvited multitude envied the very lights that made brilliant "the east room," and no language could express their mortification, when the honest chaise of Mr. Worthiman dropped himself and wife at the new minister's door. But a greater surprise awaited them the following morning, when the carriage that brought the Englishman to the village, was seen rolling rapidly away, and in it, seated by the stranger, was the heroine of all their surmises. The doctor visited his patients as usual on that day, and the village newspaper announced the marriage, at Green Valley, of Sir Edward Sterling, of London, England, to Miss Rosina May, of the same metropolis. Mrs. Tiptop and her followers were dumb-founded! But the evil genius, paralyzed for the time, revived ere long again with fresh vigor, and became so vexatious to Mr. and Mrs. Lion, that a dismissal was asked for and obtained from the Second Congregational Church of Green Valley, which, at the last accounts, was about calling a NEW MINISTER. THE GARDENER. BY GEORGE S. BURLEIGH. From dewy day-dawn to its dewy close, Between the lark's song and the whippo-wil's, With life as fresh and musical as fills Their varied round, in quiet joyance goes The faithful gardener, spying out the foes Of queenly Beauty, whom, for all the ills They wrought her reign, his hand in pity kills. That pure-eyed Peace may in her realm repose. He bears cool water to the drooping flowers, And gently crops o'erflushed exuberance; Trains the young vines to crown imperial bowers, And guardeth well fair buds from foul mischance; Let others find what prize befits their powers, _His_ deeds put smiles on Nature's countenance. ONE OF THE "SOUTHERN TIER OF COUNTIES." BY ALFRED B. STREET. A realm of forest, hill and lake I sing, Nestling in wild and unknown loveliness Beneath the "Empire State's" protecting wing; But be not too inquisitive and press Its name--my motto must be, reader! "Stat Nominis umbra"--I'll not tell that's flat. But this much I will say; it bears the name Of a brave warrior, who, in times of old, Burst through the forests like a flood of flame, And on the savage foe deep vengeance told. And well that warrior kept unstained the wreath Reaped by his sword in fields of blood and death.