dropped his eyes upon the table, first of all he caught and kissed Rose again for her affectionate care, and then, by his exclamations and questions, exhibited all the surprise and satisfaction that the most exacting little Rose could have desired. While they supped, Rosalie explained the mystery of the plums and raspberries, and, after relating the visit of Billy, requcsted an explanation of the other mystery, of the butter, milk, and vegetables, and expressed her fears that, after all, she had no right to them-that they were intended for some one else. Mark reassured her by giving his opinion that they were intended for herself, and no other; and that she would find out, the next day, probably, the kind neighbour who had sent them.

After supper was over and cleared away, and the young pair had rested awhile, and the moon had risen, they crossed the rill and went up the hill to enjoy the fine air and the extended view.

And thus closed their first day at the log cabin.

And the next morning Rosalie found out her kind neighbours.

CHAPTER XXIV.

DOMESTIC ARRANGEMENTS.

"They grow in the world's approving eyes,
In friendship's smile and home's caress:
Collecting all the heart's sweet ties

Into one knot of happiness."-Moore.

THE next morning, after breakfast, while sitting alone in her cabin, engaged, as usual, in needlework, Rosalie received a call from her kind neighbour, Mrs. Attridge, whom she found to be the wife of the worthy proprietor of the neighbouring lead-smelting furnace. "Fat, fair, and forty," with a fund of good nature and good humour, in easy circumstances, and with much experience in Western life, this lady proved an invaluable acquisition to Rosalie in the era of her cabin trials. Her frank, gay, and homely manner invited confidence. She pressed upon her young neighbour the freedom of her garden and her dairy, for as long as the latter chose to avail herself of the privilege, or until she should have cows and a garden of her own. -telling her that it was the custom of the settlers to accommodate each other in that way, and that she herself, in the first year of her residence here, had been indebted to a neighbour for her milk and vege tables. Talking of vegetables, led to the subject of "Billy," whom Mrs. Attridge laughingly averred to be a vegetable himself, for verdancy. Billy, she said, was a native of Holland, brought over to America in his infancy, and left a destitute orphan, whom her

mother had taken and brought up, but whose peculiarity of disposition and simplicity of character was such as fitted him only for house-work. She said that, on the death of his first mistress, Billy had attached himself to the fortunes of herself and husband, and had accompanied them to the West, and had been their only house servant ever since-cooking, cleaning, washing, and ironing, as well as any woman could.

Rosalie was amused, cheered, and comforted, by Mrs. Attridge's lively conversation and kind sympathy -yet during the lady's visit, a case that had troubled the youthful wife for several days still weighed upon her spirits and cast its gloom over her countenance, and refused to be shaken off.

Mrs. Attridge, with a housekeeper's sympathy and a woman's tact, divined the cause, and with rude but kind promptitude drew the trouble out to light, by suddenly asking—

"What do you intend to do about your washing, my dear?-for it is all nonsense to suppose that you could wash."

"It is, indeed," said Rosalie; "and that is just what disturbs me so. I can manage to keep our cabin tidy, and dress our little meals; but I cannot wash-indeed, I cannot. I attempted to do so, but, after having exhausted all my strength, and made myself almost ill, I failed. And when I know that every pioneer housekeeper needs to be competent to the performance of all her domestic duties, I feel thoroughly ashamed of my helplessness in some respects. And when I see my husband so patient and cheerful under domestic annoyances that no day-labourer with an efficient

helpmate ever has to suffer-oh! you know I must feel so cruelly disappointed in myself."

Mrs. Attridge made no comment, but looked upon. her young neighbour with a considerate, fond, protective expression on her honest countenance. And after a few minutes, Rosalie spoke again

"Can you advise me what to do, Mrs. Attridge? for I have resolved that, in our present circumstances, my husband shall be put to no expense for these matters."

"Oh! pshaw! you can never do it; and some other plan must be thought of," said the visitor, reflectively.

"Yes, it is real incapacity on my part-a want of the requisite physical strength. I am not constitutionally weak; but the muscles of my arms and chest have never been trained to great or continued exertion, and strengthened by that process-more is the pity! Look at my wrists."

And Rosalie, smilingly, delicate, fair, tapering arms.

tearfully, held out two And Mrs. Attridge took

and held them affectionately, while she said—

"I know I know it would be useless and cruel to expect hard work of you; and yet the expense oughtn't to come on him, neither, just now. I have been thinking, since I sat here, of an Irish family of the name of Malony, who live in a shanty about a quarter of a mile from this, on my road home. The man works at our furnace, and the woman washes for bachelors. Now, although they are thriving, she and her family are always ragged, because she is as ignorant as a savage of the use of a needle; and, besides, she says she hasn't time to sew. Now," said Mrs.

Attridge, half laughingly,, as she arose to depart, "suppose you were to barter work with Judy Malony, and pay her for washing by making up clothing for her children? At any rate, I will call and see Judy on my way home, and send her over to you."

Rosalie cordially thanked her kind friend, and held her hand, and felt unwilling to allow her to depart.

"I shall send Billy over with more fresh milk this evening. And you must not mind his grumbling— he grumbles at me and Mr. Attridge all day long sometimes, and won't allow us to touch a thing in the garden till he thinks proper, without a deal of grumbling."

Mrs. Attridge, after promising Rosalie to walk over and see her often, and spend whole days whenever it was possible, took leave, and departed.

That evening Mark Sutherland returned home sooner than usual. His countenance was cheerful with good news, and he threw into Rosalie's lap a packet of letters and papers from home-the first that had been received since their separation from their friends.

There was a letter from Colonel Ashley, full of kind wishes, and something more substantial in the shape of a cheque on the St. Louis bank, for his niece. He informed them that he was again. alone that his son, St. Gerald, having lost his election, had, under the disappointment, yielded to the wishes of his wife, and taken her to her Southern home; and that he expected his own eldest daughter,