her ear, for she gave a violent start, and sprang from the knee of Jean-Paul, made one swift bound, pushed her lithe body through the thick hedge, and was off into the dark woods of the château; but almost as quick in his movements was Jean-Paul, for he sprang to his feet, tore his way through the hedge, and started in hot pursuit. She kept ever just in front of him, maddeningly near, yet maddeningly far. He pushed his way through the bushes, and the two soon found themselves in the beautiful woods of the château. Jean-Paul thought of nothing save that La Belle Hélène had escaped and he must get her once more. He called in vain; freedom was sweet, and the leaves must have felt delightfully familiar; and ever pursuing the rabbit who had allured her away, the brown beast kept just beyond her master's reach. Perhaps, however, she lost for a moment the call of her kind, or the imploring tones of her little master touched her, for she stopped. At that moment Jean-Paul threw himself forward and caught La Belle Hélène. As his hand fell upon her, another hand, not half so gentle, fell upon the shoulder of Jean-Paul, and with the rabbit clasped in his hand, the startled lad turned and confronted the gamekeeper, who stood with his gun in his hand, rudely peering in the young fellow's face. "Ha! ha! my pretty fellow, caught in the act, in the very act," chuckled the gamekeeper, maliciously, and he put his hand over the little brown rabbit. [TO BE CONTINUED.] A CHARLES LAMB PARTY. BY EMMA J. GRAY. "Who started the thing, I don't remember. Oh yes, I do--it was Edith Worster; you know she's a member of the Cozy Club; and I tell you it was just splendid, a capital idea, and so pretty in all its arrangements that I am willing to risk anything that you would like me to tell you all about it." At these words the dear old lady laughed aloud, for how could she "keep still any longer," she roguishly asked, "eaten up with curiosity, as I always am about young folks and their doings." And then Maud's long chestnut-brown hair, tied with a ribbon to match, fell over her grandmother's face in the endeavor to kiss her. For grandma sat in a large arm-chair, which her portly figure filled from arm to arm, while Maud stood at her back looking taller than ever this morning, on account of the long red stripes in her dark brown cashmere morning gown. Grandma had a square of a silk crazy-quilt in her hand, on which she was about to embroider her initials on a field of lustrous yellow silk, and Maud having now drawn up a rocker, seated herself for work also, directly in front, and as close to her grandmother as room could allow. "Heigh ho! I suppose I must sew on these tiresome napkins, or they'll never be done." And then spreading one smoothly over her lap, she continued: "Isn't it a torment, to have to stitch these things all around to keep the fringe from fraying? Don't you think fringed napkins a nuisance anyway?"