nette, and commenced his discourse by a pathetic exordium, in which he recalled to the mind of the girl the instinctive affection which had been awakened in his by the first sight of her, and which had caused him to inmediately declare himself her protector and her friend; and then, passing lightly over the ten years which had passed since he expatiated with eloquence, but with delicacy, upon the charming surprise which had been occasioned him by the meeting with her again, and upon the sentiments with which her merit and the many virtues which embellished her had since inspired him. He had hoped, he said, for some little return upon her part, that, at least, of being taken into her confidence when a project of marriage was on foot,-and had not expected to have been first told by others of that respecting which he had the first right to be consulted.

Jeanette listened to the commencement of all this with an expression of very humble acquiescence; but the last words of it very visibly disconcerted her, and caused a crimson blush to deepen to an uncommon degree the always blooming roses of her cheeks.

'M. le Count is right,' said she, lowering her eyes, and speaking with a hesitation little common to her. 'I-I ought to have placed all confidence in the paternal bounty (these last two words occasioned Prosper a very painful sensation) which he has always expressed towards me; but-but-a young girl has always a repugnance to speaking of such things-that is-I mean, when-when they are not altogether serious.'

'Then this is not altogether serious, Jeanette,' interrupted the Count, with great vivacity; they have deceived me, then, have they, Mademoiselle?'

It may appear extraordinary, but it is for all that true, that till this moment Jeanette had never dreamed for an instant of the true nature of the sentiments which Prosper entertained towards her. She had nothing at all romantic or dreamy in her constitution; and the amorous folly of the Count was too much of a thing beyond the common ever to have entered for a moment into her thoughts. Moreover, the Count had authority over her as her master and protector, he was far, very far beyond her as to years, and vast changes-which had disagreeably struck the eyes of the young girl on his return-had taken place in his person and appearance during the ten long years which had passed away since she first saw him; and all these things, with many others, had conspired to prevent her ever thinking of him as a lover. The idea,

had it by any chance presented itself to her mind, would have appeared ridiculous; and the tall and handsome garçon to whom she had promised her hand, would have seemed to her much better qualified to fulfil the essential conditions of such a part. However, the vivacity of the Count, as he asked so precipitately his last question, and the particular expression which he gave to the last phrase, much as they surprised her, opened her eyes, and she commenced to see the truth. She hastily raised her eyes to those of the Count, and in an instant divined all. Then she lowered them to the floor again, and there was an instant's silence.

The fields, the woods, and the meadows which the Count had looked upon a few moments before with so much complaisance, passed now like a dazzling vision befere the halfclosed eyes of the young girl. The fine château, the servants, the carriages, the splendid dresses, the chapeaux ornamented with flowers and ostrich feathers, the jewels, the trinkets, and the chains of gold-all these things rushed together with a tempting splendour into her mind; but the just and upright instinct which had guided her always hitherto did not forsake her even now, but came as usual, to whisper its sage advice into her ear. She felt that the position which was offered to her was a false one; that the Count was only acting in obedience to a caprice which would not last long, and that there would be less of happiness than gratified ambition in the future, should she accept the proposals made to her. The éloignement which she felt towards Prosper did not amount to even dislike, much less to repugnance, whilst her friendship for Jacques Herbert was so calm that it could not be said to amount to a passion; so, to do justice to Jeanette, we must attribute the decision which she made so rapidly, solely to her reason and her love of right. Scarcely a minute elapsed before she had made up her mind, and then she answered Prosper's question by saying: 'I have not yet engaged myself completely, nor would I wish to do so without first consulting M. le Count. But if he does not object, I think that Jacques Herbert, who has sought me a long time, would be the individual who would, in all ways, suit me the best.'

This Jacques Herbert, does he live with M. Guillon, the notary?' then inquired the Count, as drily as possible. 'Yes, Monsieur le Count,' responded Jeanette.

"Then, Mademoiselle Heroé,' replied Prosper, it appears to me that you have already encouraged him in a sufficiently decisive manner without waiting for my authorization. At least, so I am led to believe by a certain conversation of which

Icverheard some words, the other evening, in the lane of the Pré-aux-Jones.'

For the second time, the poor Jeanette lost countenance, and, feeling somewhat irritated against her master, who had thus pleased to disconcert her after having played the spy, could not resist the desire to essay a little piece of revenge.

'I have long known Jaques Herbert, Monsieur le Count,' she said; he is about my own age, and we have so long known each other that we have ended by loving one another without thinking of it, and almost without wishing it.'

'Oh! if that is the case,' replied the Count,' if you love one another so much, I shall put no obstacle in the way of a union so well assorted. I have had other views for you, and other hopes but I am not a tyrant, and you may espouse M. Herbert whenever it may please you. I will see that the necessary arrangements are made immediately.'

(To be concluded in our next.)

OUR FUTURE.

BY MARIE J. EWEN.

It shall be so;-for truth and right
Must flourish o'er this world of ours,
And wave their standards in the light,
Triumphant, from earth's topmost towers
The powers of wrong shall fall beneath
The light, Ithuriel lance of truth;
And glorious as the soul from death,
The world shall rise to second youth.

The sun that shone on Paradise

Shall light our changing paths once more:
The air shall ring with melodies;

And knowledge stretch from shore to shore.

Ideals that high dreamers sought

Shall live amid the works of men;

And all the poetry of thought

Shall blossom into action then.

God speed the time! And all is well.
(Doubt not, while He is throned above,)
Our earth's vast brotherhood shall dwell
In peace, and unity, and love!

IN fulfilment of the promise made in the last number of the FAVORITE, we now commence a series of short articles on Common Things. In doing so we shall be performing a duty so strongly recommended by Lord Ashburton, and insisted on so generally by the newspaper press. Flax, from its extensive growth and manufacture, and general use in this country may, with propriety, be called a common thing; and to know something about its history and use cannot fail to be interesting. It is found in almost every country in the world, and has been cultivated for its fibrous stalk from the earliest period of which we have any record. The Egyptians, as far back as the time of Joseph, knew how to prepare these fibres and weave them into linen cloth; and the cloth, so manufactured at so early a period, reached a high degree of perfection. It served as garments for kings and artizans three thousand years ago. Soloman obtained

this material from Egypt, and linen cloths were made of it by the Jews. The Greek historian, Heroditus, informs us that linen, in his time, was obtained by Greece from the land of the Pharoahs. At a very early age it was cultivated in India; and at the present time it is grown among the Hindoos, solely for the sake of the oil pressed from the seed; the stalk, in which the chief value of the plant consists, is, by them, thrown aside as useless. In the time of Pliny flax was cultivated in several parts of Europe, but it is not known to have been produced in England previous to the Norman invasion. In 1175 it served as a source of inland revenue, as we find it enumerated among titheable articles. This country has never grown a sufficiency of flax for its own consumption, although its cultivation was made compulsory by a statute passed 1531.

Flax is an annual plant, and has a green stem from a foot and a-half to two feet high, and a green flower, which is succeeded by a capsule containing ten flat oblong seeds of a brown colour. From these seeds linseed oil is obtained, which is extensively used in manufacture and in painting. There are a variety of kinds of flax cultivated. There is a small kind which does not rise a foot high, which grows fast, and which is cultivated principally for the oil it produces. Another kind of flax has a perenial root, and shoots out stems to a considerable height. It came originally from Siberia, but is not much cultivated, as its fibres are course. There is a very long variety which is cultivated in the neighbourhood of Courtray in Flanders. It requires a rich soil to grow in, and the stem is so long and slender that if it were not supported the least wind would break it and lay it flat. The most common variety of flax is of moderate height with a strong stem. If not sown very thick it will throw out branches at the top and produce much seed.

The plant will grow in almost every soil, but it is a most exhausting crop, and it is not surprising that farmers should feel indisposed to cultivate it while they are imperfectly versed in the art of flax cultivation. A considerable quantity of land is, however, sown with flax-seed every year in Somersetshire, Lancashire, and Yorkshire. It is also cultivated in Scotland, and still more so in Ireland, which island produces nearly all the flax which is used in its extensive linen manufacture. And Irish linen, both for quantity and quality, has an excellent reputation. Flax thrives well in the rich alluvial land of Zealand, and is raised with great success in the sandy soil of Flanders.

When the flax begins to get yellow at the bottom of the stem, it is time to pull it, if fine flax is desired, such as is made into thread for lace or fine cambrics; but then the seed will be of little or no value. It is, therefore, left standing until the capsules, which contain the seed, are fully grown and the seed formed. The pulling then begins, which is done carefully by small handsful at