"Hurrah " exclaimed Robert Alston, swinging his hat in the air, as he came up the path; "hurrah there's going to be a draft at Brookside Won't it be jolly?" The group assembled glanced up at him, -a fair, fresh, rosy boy, without any cowardly blood in his veins, as you could easily tell, but given, as such natures often are, to underrating the silent bravery of others. "What will there be so jolly about it, Rob?" asked his uncle, with a peculiar light in his eye.