“More probably as an example,” said his uncle, with a meaning smile. “Harry can never be classed among that portion of his sex, ‘to one thing constant never,’ and he, in my humble opinion, would love to communicate some of the same spirit to others.” A sly glance at Minnie accompanied these last words; but she was examining her fan very closely, and did not perceive it. At length she went and laid her hand upon his arm, looking up at him with a grateful expression. “You have been so very kind to me—so thoughtful of my enjoyment in the world, that I cannot thank you in words. Some of these days, like the mouse proved to the lion, I may find a way to serve you, but until then you must believe how deeply I feel all this attention. Now come and choose my costume for to-morrow night—shall I come out in all the splendor of my white and silver?” “No, my dear,” said Mr. Selby, kindly. “You must be like Rose to-morrow, and wear the other when my sister gets my old-fashioned house in readiness for another party, where you will receive the guests as your own. Now let me kiss that soft cheek, and run away to my business in town.” “And not see all _my_ presents, Mr. Selby!” exclaimed Rose. “They cannot equal yours, but I have some very choice specimens of porcelain, besides collars, capes, etc. Now look at this transparent lamp-shade, with the angels’ heads; and see these vases. Here is a coffee-cup for papa, one for Paul and Kenneth, with their initials, and here is an inkstand for my darling Kate.” “And what is for Lisa and Blanche?” asked he, admiring each as she presented them. “The lamp is for my industrious queen bee, Lisa, the vases for Blanche, and things innumerable for the rest. You do not care about seeing the ‘dry goods,’ I know, but wait until I show you some of my own work. I have embroidered three vests for my three pets—papa and ‘the brothers,’ besides a scarf for my friend, Mr. Selby.” He was delighted at the idea of being remembered by her while in a distant land, and Rose was forced to send him away to get rid of his thanks. They hurried over the rest of the unpacking, as many preparations were needed for the next day’s fête, and were soon running about from one room to the other, laughing and singing as in days gone by. [_Conclusion in our next._ * * * * * THEODORA. A BALLAD OF THE WOODS. BY GEO. CANNING HILL. With her raven tresses falling loosely down her neck of snow, And her cheek all flushed with crimson, like the morning’s richest glow, From a covert, Theodora, like a loosened sheaf of light, Burst, with wild and ringing laughter, in upon my wildered sight.