yellow

scarlet

white

63 Salvia fulgens

bright blue scarlet

deep purple

59 Lobelia syphilitica

60 Lysimachia quadriflora 61 Phlox Drummondii

62 Enothera speciosa

64 Asclepias tuberosa

............

bright blue

yellow

purple

white scarlet

deep purple scarlet

65 Salvia ænea ......

66 Salvia fulgens

purple blue yellow lilac

scarlet

white

58 Salvia fulgens

scarlet

orange

orange dark brown scarlet

According to the above arrangements, the colours are not always placed so as to produce harmony in the optical sense of the term. The harmonic colours are arranged in the following order :

PRIMITIVE

COLOURS.

HARMONIC COLOURS.

Violet

(mixture of Blue & Red).

Orange

(mixture of Red & Yellow). Green

(mixture of Yellow & Blue).

But when the primitive colours are arranged side by side with their harmonizing colours, the effect is often so striking as to be almost unpleasing. Painters avoid this effect by the half-tints; the gardener must do the same. Thus, lilac may be advantageously placed by the side of scarlet. All the plants mentioned bloom freely, and flourish all the summer and autumn. The plants selected are such as form a regular progression in height, from the centre to the circumference, and are all of easy propagation and culture.

CHAP. I.

THE MOUNTAINEERS.

In the wildest region of the Haute Auvergne, upon a narrow ledge of rock suspended high above the fertile valley, and jutting from the precipitous shoulder of one of that chain of mountains which traverse the region between Cantal and Cabre, on a sultry day in the August of 1710, three men were lying upon the grass, beneath the shade of a cluster of chestnut-trees. Overcome by the parching fierceness of the sun, they were all three soundly sleeping, amidst the wreck of what had been a substantial repast, and which now afforded a glorious entertainment to myriads of insects

"In all the liveries deck'd of summer's pride," With spots of gold and purple, azure, and green." The air was balmy with the perfume of mint, marjorum, gentian, and mountain-heath; and the atmosphere was so clear, that the snow, which perpetually crowns the summit of Mount Cantal, might be seen melting into tiny streams beneath the ardent beams of the mid-day sun. Now and then the gentle lowing of the herds in the valley came faintly on the breeze, and sometimes the music of some distant shepherdboy, "piping as though he should never be old." On the one side extended the great mountains, stretching their white heads far into the blue sky, with grass, and flowers, and clustering pines, and chestnuts, clothing their rugged steeps with beauty; whilst far below extended the green winding valley, watered with hundreds of rivulets, and dotted over with sheep. Suddenly the loud, clear blast of a huntinghorn, and the deep baying of the hounds, came sweeping along the valley near at hand; and the three men started up, in an instant awake and alert, and gazed attentively in the direction of

the sound.

"Hark!" cried the elder of the three-a man of vast proportions and sun-burnt complexion "hark, boys! a hunt in the valley."

""Tis Madame la Comtesse, Father Jaques," replied one of the youths who were in his company. "She will come this way, and we shall see our new mistress for the first time !"

The horns sounded again, but this time more faintly, and far away. Once more, and it was but a breath on the breeze: then all was silence profound and unbroken as before. The three mountaineers cast themselves down again heavily upon the grass, and maintained a discontented aspect. These three constituted the indispensable triumvirate of the Haute Auvergne the vacher, or cowkeeper, who makes the cheeses which are the principal revenue of the seigneurie in this district of France; the boutilier, who makes the butter, and the patre, or herdsman, who has the exclusive care of the cows and the dairy. Their cabin was a little hut of logs and stones, with a kind of rude farm-yard attached; -and it was inhabited during six months of every year by these three dependants on the domain of the Château de Peyrelade. Fifty cows-all marked on the flank with the initials and coronet of the house-were under their care during this period, and here they manufactured the rich white cheeses which formed the principal wealth of the estate.

Whoever has travelled in the mountainous

regions of Auvergne will remember the triple bands of herdsmen, the almost inaccessible huts, and the strict distinctions of rank in this humble sphere of life. The cowkeeper is of authority, "a wise fellow, and, what is more, an officer;" the boutilier is the next in grade; and the herdsman is under both.

person

"Father Jaques," cried the herdsman (a youth of about sixteen), "you know our new lady?"

"Yes, my child," replied the cowkeeper, in a gracious tone-" yes, to be sure, I know her ; for I have carried her in my arms, and danced her on my knee many and many a time. Ah! that surprises you; but the snow has fallen for many winters on the summit of Mount Cantal

since that time."

"Then it was a great many years ago, Father Jaques. What may be the present age of

Madame la Comtesse?"

"Twenty-five years at the most, come Sep"And she's so fresh tember," replied Jaques. and beautiful, that she does not yet look above eighteen. We always used to call her the little queen Marguerite; and sure, if a young girl

F

were to be made a queen for her beauty, Marguerite would have been crowned ten years ago. Ah, when she married the old Comte de Peyrelade, and went away to the King's court, there was not a soul in the canton but missed her. It was a blessing even to look upon her; she was so fair, so smiling, so gracious! From everybody you heard, Well, have you been told the news? The little queen Marguerite is gone!' And all the men sighed, and the women cried; and it was a sad day for the poor folks. Well, nine years have gone by since then; she has at last come back to us; the old Count is dead, and our little queen will live with us once more, till the end of her days!"

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Perhaps," said the boutilier, who had hitherto been silent.

Why perhaps?" replied Father Jaques, knitting his grey brows-"why perhaps?"

"Is not Madame young and beautiful?" asked the boutilier. "Is she not rich? Why, then, should she bury herself for life in an old chateau, which is only fit for owls and bats to inhabit? What will you bet that she does not return to the court before twelve months are over, and there marry some rich and handsome lord, as she deserves?"

Hush, Pierre!" replied Jaques, in a moody voice; "I tell you that she will neither marry nor leave us she has made a vow to that effect."

"Do ladies keep those vows?" demanded the incredulous Pierre.

"She will. Well, well, I must convince you, then. Listen, and I will tell you all that passed nine years ago in the Château de Pradines, the home of our little queen Marguerite before her marriage." The two youths drew nearer, and looked anxiously at the old cowkeeper, who thus began:-"The handsomest and noblest among all Marguerite's lovers was M. le Chevalier de Fontane: she preferred him; and though he was but a younger son, with a lieutenant's commission, the old Baron de Pradines consented to the marriage for love of his daughter; and their wedding-day was fixed. Then news came that M. George, the heir of the old Baron and brother of Mademoiselle Marguerite, was to have leave of absence from his regiment; and so M. le Baron deferred the marriage till his arrival-and sorely he repented of it afterwards! M. George was as much hated as his father and sister were loved in the canton; and the day when he had first left it was a day of rejoicing amongst us. It was late one evening when he arrived at the château, bringing with him an old gentleman. This gentleman was the Count de Peyrelade. As soon as supper was over, M. George went to his father's chamber, and there remained with him in conversation. No one ever knew what passed between them; but the night was far spent when he came out, and the next day M. le Baron, who had been full of life and health the day before the arrival of his son, was confined to his bed in the extremity of illness. A priest was sent for, and the last sacra

ments administered; and then the poor old gentleman summoned all in the house to take his farewell. 'Marguerite,' said he to his daughter, who was crying bitterly—' Marguerite, I have but a few moments to live, and before I leave thee I have a prayer to address to thee.' And as Mademoiselle kissed his hands without being able to speak a word, he added, "My daughter, promise me to marry M. de Peyrelade! At these words the poor young lady gave a great cry, and fell on her knees at the foot of her father's bed. Then the Baron turned to the late Count: Monsieur,' said he, 'I know my daughter: she will obey my commands. Promise me to make her happy.' The Count, greatly moved, promised to devote his life to her; and the poor dear master fell back quite dead! All this time M. George stood by with dry eyes, and an air of inflexible sternness; and as soon as his father had expired, I saw a look of satisfaction pass over his face. It was exactly twenty-four hours after his son's arrival that M. le Baron breathed his last. What a terrible night it was, boys! The rain and snow had never ceased falling since that fatal arrival. M. le Chevalier de Fontane, who knew nothing of what had passed, came riding into the courtyard just as the Baron had died. I ran out to him, for I was a stableman in the château, and I told him all that had happened. As he listened to me, he became as pale as a corpse, and I saw him reel in his saddle: I advanced to support him, when he plunged his spurs into the horse's sides, and fled away like a madman into the terrible storm. From that time he was never seen or heard of again; but, as he took the road to the mountains, it was supposed that he fell, with his horse, into some chasm, and was buried in the snow. Every year, on the anniversary of that day, his family have a mass said for the repose of his soul." Here the old cowkeeper crossed himself devoutly, and his companions followed his example. After a few minutes' silence, "Well, Pierre," he said,

66

now do you understand why Madame la Comtesse de Peyrelade has retired at the age of twenty-five to live in a ruinous old Château of Auvergne, and why she should never marry a

second time?"

The boutilier was so concerned at the history, that he had not the heart to say a word; but the herdsman, who was excessively curious, returned to the charge. You have not told us, Father Jaques," said he, "why the Baron desired his daughter to marry the late Count instead of the Chevalier de Fontane."

"I can only tell you the reports," replied Jaques; "for nobody knows the truth of it. They said that M. George was in debt to the Count de Peyrelade for more than his father could pay, and that he had sold the hand of his sister to defray it. Every one knows that the Count was very much in love with her, and that she had refused him. The valet told me that he had overheard M. George uttering horrible threats to his father on the night of his return."

"Is it possible that heaven permits such