Years before, when our young people were children, a juvenile party was given one evening at Mr. Heath's, in honor of his son's birthday. The children's schoolmates were invited, and Mark Gildersleeve among the number. Miss Edna, in white with a big blue sash, was naturally enough an object of much devotion to the young gallants in roundabouts and pumps, who certainly evinced good taste, as the little belle was lovely as delicate bloom, bright eyes, and rich curls could make her. Poor Mark was dismal enough while the dancing was in progress, as his sensitiveness in regard to his lameness, and his Methodist relative's scruples had prevented him from learning that accomplishment; hence, he would have passed but a dull evening, had it not been for Edna, whose kind little heart prompted her to select him as her partner in "Come, Philanders," "Oats, peas, beans, and barley," etc., when those games came on the carpet. This partiality on the part of Miss Edna naturally engendered much jealousy in the breasts of her numerous admirers; and one, a malicious urchin, with the instincts of an Iago, plotted to make Jack Heath his avenger. Jack, an overgrown, lubberly boy, swelling with the importance of his position, and the possession of a gold watch and tail-coat, was diverting himself by teasing the girls and playing tricks on the younger lads. Young Iago suggested having some fun with Mark. Said he, "I will go and get Willie Hull and Mortimer, and we'll all hustle him, eh, Jack?" "All right," said Jack; "he's a mean sneak, anyway. He thinks himself so smart. He's no business here. Edna sent him an invitation; I wouldn't." The boys surrounded Mark and jeered him. "Where are your gloves?" inquired Iago, Junior, pointing to Mark's bare hands. The poor boy colored, for the other lads wore white kids, while he had none--an omission due, most likely, to his sister's ignorance of the requirements of fashionable society. "Oh, what a pooty cravat! Look here, ain't that a pooty one? Don't you wish you had one like it? What lots of money it must have cost, eh?" cried Jack, in affected admiration, as he pulled the boy's rather gaudy neck-tie. "Let me alone," said Mark, indignantly. "Suppose I won't," continued Jack, "what are you going to do about it, limpey?"