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“MY DEAR SON,

“Congratulate me. The all-important day is fixed for the 24th inst. Come at once. Mrs. Dana is anxious to cultivate you, and my own impatience is an old story.

“Your affectionate father,

“H.J. LESLIE.”

“Confound Mrs, Dana!” was the son’s comment, for upon the subject of his father’s second marriage he was distinctly undutiful.

For a while he lost himself in pictures of the new home, and mentally resolved to absent himself as much as possible. He knew how his opposition was grieving his father, who thought him most unreasonable: but he persisted in refusing to see the lady until after the ceremony.

Suddenly with a terrific lurch the train was derailed and plunged down an embankment, not steep but rocky. The heavy Pullman toppled over, then planted itself firmly in a bed of fresh earth, and was still. There were wild cries of fear and pain, a loud crashing of glass lamps, and some wrenching of seats. Leslie fell into a pile of great-coats, and flung out his right arm just as the two ladies were dashed against him, and a sudden sharp twinge made him oblivious of everything.

When he recovered consciousness he found himself being pulled out of his corner, and realized by the agony of the motion, that something was broken somewhere. With one mighty protest against such vigorous handling, he relapsed into a dead faint. When he next opened his eyes he was lying between cool sheets in a pleasant room, and bending over him was the elder lady of the Pullman. The first bewildered look was rapidly merged into a frown of pain, as a sense of discomfort made itself felt.

“He is coming round, doctor;” said the lady.

Then to him she said;–“you must be very quiet. Your shoulder has been set. It is all right now. Heaven be praised that we did not kill you as we fell!” she added aside, and her sweet motherly face showed the sympathy he was in need of.

Then a voice at the door said timidly, yet eagerly,–“Mamma, come–Charlie wants you.”

The ladies vanished, leaving the doctor in charge.

Hervey soon gathered that they were at a farm-house near Columbus, Ohio; that Charlie had a broken leg, that his mother and sister, along with the others who had escaped injury, were stopping over to render service to the wounded.

“Who are they?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of his pain.

“I think the name is Raynor,” said the doctor; “Mrs. Raynor, Miss Eloise, and the youth, whose leg we set this morning. But say, young man, where are your people? Don’t you want some telegrams sent? You are not likely to get away from here very soon.”

Young Leslie groaned as he gave his father’s address at Cincinnati, then exclamed;–“See here, doctor, can’t you stop this confounded pain? What the deuce is the matter, anyway? Do get me out of this.”

The doctor gave him a soothing potion and bade him be quiet. He promised to send a nurse, then went to look after the more slightly injured patients.

Three weeks later found Hervey Leslie in dressing-gown and slippers, setting beside Miss Eloise Raynor under a large shade tree, the young lady reading aloud from Tennyson’s tender rhymes. At an open window in full view lay Charlie, still a prisoner, with his mother in close attendance.

Mr. Leslie had paid several visits, and assured his son that the only way in which he could repay him for postponing the wedding till he should be well enough to witness it, was by becoming reconciled to his new mother. At which the son smiled, for something had of late come over the spirit of his dream that predisposed him singularly in favor of weddings. A sort of low fever hung about him, which made it prudent for him to remain in the country; and he rather fixed the time of his departure when Charlie’s leg should justify the whole party’s leaving.