The next morning she started for the city, with little Tilda, upon her important mission. Mr. Smith was a dry goods merchant, but his wife thought there was nothing in his store fit for her use under these circumstances. By the quantity of fabrics, silks, muslins, laces and ribbons, (to say nothing of gloves, flowers and countless other things) which she brought home, Mr. Smith was half-inclined to think that she was about to set up trade in opposition to him. But they were all for her and Matilda Eulalia, the lady declared, and he needn't laugh nor scold neither. She knew what was proper and could afford it, too!"

So Mr. Smith held his peace, with inward groaning, for he saw in the future a long procession of cold dinners and dry suppers, with loud talking dress-makers and milliners, coming and going, and his wife "tired to death," and cross, and the house in indescribable confusion.

Mrs. John Smith, the merchant's lady, had come into possession of an immense fortune, left by a dearly loved uncle, for whom she dressed in the deepest mourning. This was the story afloat in the village. It came to the ears of our heroine, and she held her head higher still, and talked more than ever of her dear, old uncle, who had willed all his vast property to her.

She received numerous calls from slight acquaintances, who were deeply interested in her good fortune, and congratulated her in honied phrases. But she cared little for the attentions of these persons, and treated all with the most superb condescension One thing was wanting to complete Mrs. Smith's felicity. Mrs. Harcourt did not call, neither Mrs. Johnson, nor Mrs. Arnold. Every night she dreamed of receiving them in great state, every morning she arose with that hope buoying up her heart, and every evening she bitterly reflected upon their neglect.

Through her children and those of Mrs.

Harcourt, she learned the name of the house where that lady intended to sojourn while at Newport. The Harcourts were to meet some relatives there from a Southern State. Mrs. Smith determined to happen there just before the arrival of Judge Harcourt's family, and she trusted to good luck and her own tact to bring about an intimacy. Without doubt Mrs. Harcourt regretted her former coolness, and would be ready to respond to the first demonstration on the part of the wealthy Mrs. Smith.

At last all the magnificent preparations were completed. Three huge trunks were packed to their utmost capacity. There were costumes for breakfast, and dinner, and supper; for walking and riding; for bathing, and negligees for sick days; there were robes for pleasant and stormy days; for picnics and balls and parties of every description. Yet, Mrs. Smith was in mourning, but fashion allows the fashionable mourner to solace herself with a wonderful variety of styles and fabrics.

Matilda Eulalia's wardrobe boasted of every color of the rainbow, and Orlando Augustus rejoiced in half a score of fantastic suits, rich enough for a young prince.

Mr. Smith stayed at home to attend to his business, and his happy spouse hardly regretted that necessity, for she felt that his presence would be a restraint. He had no aspirations, and she began to fear that she had been wedded to an uncongenial companion.

The journey was performed in safety. Strange to say, none of the vulgar travellers with whom they came in contact, seemed to notice them in the least, though so distinguished a looking group. Consequently, Mrs. Smith felt something as might a royal princess travelling in disguise.

She felt some misgivings as she took possession of her fine rooms at the hotel she had selected. What if she had made a blunder, and should miss seeing the Harcourts! The bare supposition made her half ill. But her chambermaid, a gossipping, trim young woman, relieved her heart of its burden. The Harcourts

were expected every day.

The suite of

rooms opposite hers were in reserve for them. And the rooms adjoining were occupied by Col. Ainsworth and lady, and Miss Harcourt, a maiden sister of Judge Harcourt; all very aristocratic people from Mobile. Miss Harcourt was a literary lady, indeed, quite a noted writer, decidedly odd in her ways, as rich and noted people are not unlikely to be.

The next day Mrs. Smith sat in one of the parlors, a little lonely, and her children were lounging listlessly about the piazza, tired and homesick. Miss Harcourt, a lady of forty years of age, plain in her dress, and simple in manners, entered the room. Observing Mrs. Smith, she approached her and introduced herself with graceful ease. Was she willing to waive all ceremony, that they might become friends at once?"

Mrs. Smith thrilled with delight, and replied in most cordial terms. This was more than she had hoped for, still she might have expected it, for the fame of her wealth had doubtless gone before her. Soon the ladies were conversing quite freely.

"Is Mr. Smith with you?" inquired Miss Harcourt; "I should esteem it a privilege to make his acquaintance." 'No; my husband is at home, immersed in the cares of his business."

Ah! then he cannot stop for a holiday? Now really, I think he ought to give himself some relaxation, with such fame and such a fortune in prospect."

Mrs. Smith bowed with a puzzled air. What meant this reference to fame in connection with fortune? she was about to allude in an affecting manner to her beloved and eccentric uncle, when the enthusiastic blue lady interrupted her.

"I congratulate you upon being his happy wife. I do always dote on men of genius! and all genius does not express itself in poetry; and then there is the poetry of action! inventive genius is admirable. I count poets and novelists and scholars among my friends, but I don't know a single distinguished inventor. I do lament that your husband could not leave his business. Are your children here? I long to see them.'

In a sort of amaze Mrs. Smith beckon

44

ed to Matilda, who stood in the doorway. Come here, my darling child," cried the poetess. "I love you, already, for the sake of my brother's children; they always mention Mary Smith in their letters, and my sister-in-law has promised me much pleasure in an acquaintance with her dear friend, Mrs. Smith."

Mrs. Smith was thunderstruck; like a flash of lightning was revealed to her the mistake under which Miss Harcourt was laboring. Her emotions were unutterable.

"Where is your beautiful brother Charlie?"

Matilda laughed gaily in reply. Miss Harcourt looked astonished, and the little maiden explained as well as she could for

mirth.

Miss Harcourt listened in some perplexity, and just as Mrs. Smith, recovering her presence of mind, was about to claim Mrs. Harcourt as a friend; to explain the social position of the other Mrs. John Smith, and to bring up her own dear, rich uncle, she arose with a confused apology.

"Excuse me; I see I have made a mistake. I supposed you were the favorite friend of my sister, Mrs. Harcourt. Please forget my freedom," and with a somewhat s ately bow, she turned away.

Mrs. Smith through the windows, saw Miss Harcourt walking on the piazza with Mrs. Col. Ainsworth, and knew that she was relating her adventure. Swelling with rage and mortification, our heroine hastened to her own apartment. As she passed through the hall, she heard the merry laugh of Mrs. Ainsworth, and the latter part of a remark — " To think you should take that vain woman for our Mrs. Smith, and that horridly over-dressed little girl for her beautiful Mary!"

The next

This was the one drop too much. Mrs. Smith had barely strength to reach her room, when she gave vent to her feelings in her usual stormy manner. day she was really ill from the effect of violent weeping, but towards night she recovered sufficiently to converse with her knowing chambermaid.

Judge Harcourt and family had arrived

in company with a great inventor and his wife and two children. Everybody wanted to see Mr. Smith and praise him for

his wonderful invention.

Do you know anything about this Mr. Smith?" faintly inquired the suffering lady.

"O, yes," replied Betsey, with confidence 66 e; Mrs. Harcourt's girl tells me everything she knows. Mrs. Smith is a great friend of Mrs. Harcourt's; I believe they used to know one another when they were children. She is a perfect lady, so they say, and her children are prettier, even, than the Judges'."

"But what about the invention?" "I don't know what it is exactly, nor what it is for; but Mr. Smith has got up some wonderful machine, for something or other, and everybody is praising him and telling what a genius he is. He'll be vastly rich, too, for I heard them say that he had already refused one hundred thousand for the patent right.'

"Oh-oh-oh!"—groaned Mrs. Smith, writhing on her pillow.

"Dear me," cried Betsey, "your head grows worse every minute! you'll have to take some morphine."

"Yes, these nervous headaches are dreadful! oh-oh! I shall be better alone -hand me that camphor-bottle before you go out."

As Betsey closed the door, Mrs. Smith almost went into convulsions. The pain in her head was agonizing, but the storm of envy and disappointment was harder still to bear.

That Mrs Smith haunted her everywhere; she stepped in before her, and won every prize from her. And now she was rich and her husband famous! Her own fortune, immense in her fancy, before, dwindled to a paltry thing.

For two days she kept her room, then she made a most careful toilet and ventured below. She seated herself in an obscure corner to take observation. There was an animated group upon the opposite side of the room. Her own children were there, with those of the other Mrs. John Smith and the little Harcourts. They were seated around a table examining books of engravings. Little Mary's sim

ple attire contrasted favorably with Matilda's elaborate toilet, and Charlie was dressed comfortably as well as prettily..

Upon a sofa near by sat Mrs. Harcourt, Mrs. Ainsworth, and her unconscious hated rival. Never had Mrs Smith seen her neighbor looking so well. She was dressed in exquisite taste; even the envious critic in the corner was oblig ed to confess it to herself, and her fine features were lit up with a beautiful glow.

At that moment, Mr. John Smith, the inventor, sauntered into the room with Miss Harcourt on his arm. The lady who had a passion for celebrities, and doted on men of genius, was talking in a very fine strain. The merchant's lady was surprised to see how much like a gentleman looked John Smith, the mechanic. His slight figure was erect and graceful; his face delicate; his full forehead white as snow, and his blue eyes keen and flashing. He listened to Miss Harcourt, and smiled blandly, and now and then spoke a word in a very musical voice.

Miss Harcourt saw our Mrs. Smith in the corner, and bowed distantly with a rising blush. Her motion was observed by the ladies upon the sofa, and each pair of eyes were turned in that direction. A smile hovered over Mrs. Ainsworth's lips, but was suppressed instantly, while the other ladies looked away directly, without the slightest sign of recognition.

The merchant's lady had once given the cut direct to the mechanic's wife, and was not surprised at a similar return. But surely that Mrs. Smith needn't be so uplifted with pride, she cared not for her society: and as for Mrs. Harcourt she gave her up entirely; such a complete aristocrat could never be her friend.

She immediately took refuge in her self-sufficient pride, as weak people are apt to do when their overweening vanity is so deeply wounded. She arose and haughtily beckoned to her children to come away from their little companions. She would suffer no more such mortifications, but would take rooms at another hotel, immediately.

But a letter from home, entreating her immediate return, changed her plans. Wondering at the reason of her husband's