Mrs. Carroll had retired to her bed with a nervous headache, leaving Debby to the watch and ward of friendly Mrs. Earle, who performed her office finely by letting her charge entirely alone. In her dreams Aunt Pen was just imbibing a copious draught of Champagne at the wedding-breakfast of her niece, "Mrs. Joseph Leavenworth," when she was roused by the bride elect, who passed through the room with a lamp and a shawl in her hand. "What time is it, and where are you going, dear?" she asked, dozily wondering if the carriage for the wedding-tour was at the door so soon. "It's only nine, and I am going for a sail, Aunt Pen." As Debby spoke, the light flashed full into her face, and a sudden thought into Mrs. Carroll's mind. She rose up from her pillow, looking as stately in her nightcap as Maria Theresa is said to have done in like unassuming head-gear. "Something has happened, Dora! What have you done? What have you said? I insist upon knowing immediately," she demanded, with somewhat startling brevity. "I have said 'No' to Mr. Leavenworth and 'Yes' to Mr. Evan; and I should like to go home to-morrow, if you please," was the equally concise reply. Mrs. Carroll fell flat in her bed, and lay there stiff and rigid as Morlena Kenwigs. Debby gently drew the curtains, and stole away, leaving Aunt Pen's wrath to effervesce before morning. The moon was hanging luminous and large on the horizon's edge, sending shafts of light before her till the melancholy ocean seemed to smile, and along that shining pathway happy Debby and her lover floated into that new world where all things seem divine. * * * * * WET-WEATHER WORK. BY A FARMER. III. Will any of our artists ever give us, on canvas, a good, rattling, saucy shower? There is room in it for a rare handling of the brush:--the vague, indistinguishable line of hills, (as I see them to-day,)--the wild scud of gray, with fine gray lines, slanted by the wind, and trending eagerly downward,--the swift, petulant dash into the little pools of the highway, making fairy bubbles that break as soon as they form,--the land smoking with excess of moisture,--and the pelted leaves all wincing and shining and adrip.