Mildred: An Autumn Romance.

The General looks astonished . " Your explanation , I demand itj as your father . " " I have none to give . " " Oh , you have not . Very well , sir . We may as well understand each other at once . I do not pretend to unravel your mysteries ; but let me tell you once for all , if you marry without my consent , either this girl or anyone else , I'll clisinher it you ; I famil

will not run the risk of two sons disgracing the y . " Ancl with that the General tinned on his heel ancl entered the house . The young man , after pacing the avenue for an hour or so in the light of the lovely summer noon , sought his room , retired to rest , and after vainly trying to sleep , got up , lit the wax taper on his mantel-piece , ancl wrote a long letter , ivhich he carefully sealed and put in the pocket of his dress coat , ivhich he had hastily thrown off ,

intending to post it himself the next morning . As he again lay down and composed himself to sleep , he murmured to himself , " Poor Mildred , will she forgive me ' ?" ( To be continued . )

A Visit To Ashover Churchyard.

A VISIT TO ASHOVER CHURCHYARD .

Ye hasten to the grave ; what seek ye there , Ye restless thoughts and busy purposes Oi the idle brain . ' PHIS interesting paper originally appeared in a Yorkshire paper of some . considerable circulation , the Hull Packet and East Anglican Times , specially contributed , and we reprint it here , not only for its undoubted meritsand the

, amusement and edification of our readers , but for the purpose of suggesting to numerous kind correspondents the feasibility of making similar visits on their own account , ancl sending us like reports . We promise them a corner in the Masonic Magazine .

There is an old churchyard at Ashover , half buried amidst the Derbyshire hills , that contains many a quaintly carved stone ancl suggestive epitaph . It is the very ideal of an old churchyard . Tho venerable parish church , stately , weather-beaten , and with no mean pretensions to architecture , raises its solemn head in the centre ; around and withifi its shadow ancl the shadows of many trees are the rude graves . Time' has done its best to destroy the pristine beauty of the groundit has

; battered the stones about , and obliterated many a choice epigram and rural landmark , while the long , lank grass , which no sacrilegious hand has clared to disturb , threatens some day to swallow the remainder . Clean laid gravel paths lead from the gates to the church , and beyond is the village , peaceful , contented , and happy ; at least , so it looks to-day in the brilliant sunshine .

Jipitaphs , as a rule , are very unsatisfactory . They are too often only half-told tales . Sometimes it is a dreary lamentation , a vainglorious panegyric or pretty picture , with the inevitable moral filtering through . Perhaps Ashover is no better than its neighbours . It would be more satisfactory if it were possible to read between the lines , and know what manner of men these were who trod the earth these ages back , and catch beneath all this sycophancy—these fulsome epigrams—a glimpse of the actual creature he lived

as , ancl so step by step lay bare the social ancl profane history of the age . The cynic may justly claim ' a shrewd doubt that were these bones to rise froin the ground and survey the glowing elegies sympathising friends have placed there , they would have some difficulty in recognising themselves ; yea , further , insist to know who are the authors of these vile productions , who drag these rigid corpses from their graves , prop them against their icy headstones , and make their leaden lantern jaws to speak .