/ The king V-*cHONE A NOVEL OF AMERICAN LIFE I BY MAURICE 1 copyricbt, 18f2 Mid 1893 ty I ' CHAPTER XXVII. . [to* doi CONTINUED. The day was a terrible one for err them. They could not see any part wh of the battle; but the grinding roar aln of it rolled over the house, which coi shook as if with an earthquake. It ] seemed to them that they could hear hii; the despairing cry of the Americaus to as they fell crushed and bleeding un- ] der the victorious columns of their thi enemies. Mrs. Vernon kneeling in Go agony prayed and wept. Mademoi- a \ aelle de Sezannes cast herself upon a ing oouch and hid her face in the pillows; wa but Pauline stood at a front window ] straining her eyes and ears to see and wo hear. bat Before ttye middle of the forenoon the thunder and the patter of the fight gradually ceased, and soon J enough the broken and fear-crazed rar columns of the British came wildly straggling back across the plain, thi What had been solid walls of red uni? ,1 ?iv. *.;/. a o iurrncu OUluiCi a muuug nuu xujiumiv ? a vigor and steadiness was now a con- h?1 fused rabble, leaderless and dis- ? persed, all flying away from an im- set aginary charging column of Americans. f?r "Heaven be praised!" cried Paul- sp* ine. "They are flying! Theyaredefeated! They are driven back all wild f.? and routed!" Il't She precipitated herself upon her ? mother in an ecstasy of joy. V?? Mademoiselle de Sezannes sprang ^ls tip and ran to the window. OfFintho :? distance, as she looked between the orange trees, she saw men bearing litters, rolling cannon, running, limp- the ing, gesticulating, assisting wounded sPr comrades, leading horses on which f?r lay dead officers?it was a terrible ^r0 sight; but in the first , rush cf her w0 - ix; .. _ j..,T realization 01 iriuoipu hub ieit uu horror from the scene. Sho clasped ^ lier bands together and gazed with riQ ? ' wide open tearless eyes. to i It was nearly noon when the ser- kv vants brought in breakfast; meantime ie the British had disappeared, and a great silence lay upon the plain and str: the woods. The ladies had eaten x nothing for twenty-four hours, and ' now, with the great reaction from the strain of terrible anxiety, there came hunger. But food did not seem to 1 attract them; they ran to the windows jfti and doors every minute or two only the to turn away, disappointed, from the Ev desolate scene. livi At last, however, a footfall on the fig] doorsteps was accompanied by the' cat voice of Colonel Loring. fou a "Miss Pauline, will you let me in, ] please?" he called. the Pauline ran to the door and opened Fa; it. At first she did not notice that hei Loring was bloody. He stood quite mil ereet, and his face showed no sign of vra Buffering. the "Come in," she cried, "come in, thr Colonel Loring. It is so good of you die ?we are so frightened, so bewildered, -we bo lonely." [ ' She extended both hands with the pa] impulse of her delight at the relief tui his presence afforded. fJS He inclined his liatless head and 1 smiled in acknowledgement of her 8aj greeting, and now she saw that both paj his arms hung powerless, dangling ' and bloody. pil "Oh, you are hurt, wounded!" she bis exclaimed. "You have been shot!" an "It iB of no consequence; some light th< ? hurts that will give no trouble." He came in with a firm step and sat down in a large armed chair. ov "General Gibbs is killed; so is Pakenham; indeed, they are all killed; 8p the army is destroyed, it destroyed it- t0 self.* What a set of doits they all were!" Loiung spoke rapidly, but re| seemingly without much feeling. "n Before he had finished there was a kn knock at the door. Mademoiselle de thi Bezannes, who chanced to be nearest 0f it, flung it open. cri Yasseur came in -without cercmony and stood before Loring, his face twitching with the ecstasy of terrible ptt passion. Immediately he began to an poar forth tho most horrible curses, an and between them he sandwiched what he knew of Lor^ng's past history. It s]i was a denunciation at once eloqueut fe1 and brutal beyond description. Lor- ap ins; for once was unable to meet an exigency with a prompt bar. He sat bl< calmly enough; but he could not stop Hej the curreut. Yasseur, in his wild wrath, seeing that his victim was ap- an parently helpless, went with a rush igi into the revolting details of tbe life tli which lie and Loring Lad passed together as outlaws in Spain. Tliey had jn robbed a couveut, killiuga nun to get co the jewels and precious stones nfter- he ? . ward taken from Vassenr by Pierre Bameau. He went on to tell how Lor- i0( ing and Pierre Ivameau were the same nj] man, and how Margaret, the robber's ce wife, had been innrdered by him in j-,r cold blood because she sought the SC( protection of a priest to escape bru- an tality. tel It was a story to chill the blood of so any hearer, and its double climax was lo< reached when "Vasseur dwelt upon tbe whipping that Hameau had caused ag him to submit to and the attempt to m, murder old man Burns iu the wilder- an Dess of the Pearl-River country. The ladies retreated before the bias- tb phemous torrent of mingled coufes- ho flion, denunciation and profanity. fr< Yasseur spoke so rapidly that liis ha say was soon ended, and then he I sprang at Loriug with a dagger. ??] "Die, Pierre llamean!" ho shrieked, jU( . in creole patois. "Die! Die !". ye But Pierre Rameau bad beard sucb tragic commands before this. He bad played a part in tragedy too ofteu to j,r be taken by surprise and laid out to K . easily. wl "Fool!" was all that bo said; and, ! ca rising with the promptness of a steel I spring, he kicked the littie man i ^i. through the open doorway into the an * yard. Vassenr arose from where he had fil falleu, pat his hauds 011 his chest, tot- A iered for a few paces along the walk do I OFa^ Y ISLAND, r/^ DURING THE WAR OF 1812. THOMPSON. lobert Bonner's Son*. rard the Rate, then sank he saw, without fairly realizing it, i tall, gaunt form of Burns go by h long, hajf-feeble, half-vigorous ides. CHAPTER XXVIII. A GLIMPSE OF LOVE. That morning of the eighth day of mary was one of awful suspense to i patriotic women of New Orleans, erything that could make life worth ing depended upon the issue of the tit whose heavy billows of sound ae rolling up the river to shake the indation of the city. Vladame Souvestre, as she stood at > window of the chamber in which irfax lay, held one hand upon her irt. She felt it leaping heavily with ogled dread and joy. Each throb s for the brave men battling down ire in the fog of morning, and each ob was also for the handsome solir lfing within four paces of her, ak and wounded, in her sole care, riie window-panes jarred with every lr\ifoHr?n nf flio liotf.lp.fhnnflfir. Sllfl ir*vi*w*w~ V. ?W ned now and again to look at Fair"Do not try to move," she would j\ "it will hurt you. Be brave and tient; it will come out well." Then she would go and smooth his lows or adjust the snowy spread of i couch. Her tiny hands trembled, d a bright rosy spot showed under 3 petal-like skin of either cheek. He tried to talk to her about the ttle, but she put one sweet hand er his mouth and shook her htead. "Listen and be calm, but. do not eak," she commanded; and he had obey. "Monsieur Crapaud Crapoussin will :urn after a while," she went on, ud he will tell us glorious news. I ow that our brnve men are killing ose British; I feel it in every drop | my blood. Hear how our guus j ish and roll!" She clasped her hands before her d stood in an attitude of intense, ssionate attention to the tumbling d bounding din aS it seemed to till space bj jars and throbs. Fairfax gazed at her through the adows of the chamber, and, to his rerish and misty imagination, she peared to irradiate a heavenly light, that a pale, tender aureole trern3d about her. A peaceful languor ized him, and ha slept. The streets were deserted and silent, d as the fog grew tenuous and vanled before the coming of the sun, e cannon roar seemed more distant. Madame Souvestre wandered arouud the chamber, moving noiselessly, ve' ing her face now aud again with r hands. Siowly the moments passed. She >ked at her jeweled watch; it was ue o'clock, and the guns had almost csed their thunder. Fairfax wa3 onthinrr lipnvilv lint lli.q Klfifin emed uatural. She bent over him d touched his hair with a furtive uder movement. How could he feel light a stroke on his loosely tumbled jIsh? "Ah, Fanline; jou have come to me ain! How kind, how sweet!'' he irmured. "And the battle is over, d we shall not be parted auy more!" The little womau drew back from e sleeper and turned pale; then a t glow suffused her cheeks. She jmbled and held her brow with both uds. "Panline! Pauline!" she whispered. 3e loves someone?Pauline! Paulu! But it may be his sister. Yes, a. his voice was so ceutle aud calm; tuliae is his sister." Once ruore she cast herself upon the iedien and lifted prayerful eyes. A black woman, with a spotless lite turban on her head, came it!, rrying a silver tray with cofi'ee, licli she placed ou the table. She nuced askance at Madame Souvestre, d then silently withdrew. The rich brew in the Biasing pot led the room with its fragrance, plamp-faced maaculiue saint looked wu from a dark frame on the wall; his lips appeared ready to ask lor a cup. Fairfax awoke. "Pauline! Pauline!1' lie gently called. Madame Souvestre sprang up. "Ob! Ah!" ho murmured, looking at her iuquiringly. "You have had a good sleep," she remarked, "ami you look refreshed. Here is some coflee." "I have been dreaming," he said, smiling apologetically, "and at first " "At first you thought Mademoiselle Pauline was here." "How do you know?" "You are not reserved. You speak freely when you dream." "Do I? Well, it is all right if I did not disturb you." "Disturb me? Oh, no, not at all. I only heard jou calling for Mademoiselle Pauline. She is your sister?" "It was a most vivid dream. But the battle! Have you heard? Do you know how it is going?" "You do not hear any more guns," she said, turning to help him with his coffee, "but no word has arrived yet. Surely, Monsieur Crapsoussin will arrive soon." She put one hand under his head and with the other held the cup to his lips, while he took a hearty draught of the pungent black liquid. "Thank you, madame. That was delicious?the best coffee that I ever tasted; and I feel so much better. Surely, there will be good news. But what ie that noise?" Madame Souvestre set the coffee ou the table and hastened to the window. People were rushing along the street, shouting, gesticulating, grimacing wildly. Men, women, children, all appeared to be possessed by an uncontrollable excitement. Hats flew up iDto the air, old men were behav ing like boys. She turned toward Fairfax with a great light in her face and said: ' "It is victory! I hear them rejoicing! Listen!" The tumult increased momentarily, and above it all they heard voices singing the "Marseillaise." A servant admitted Crapaud Crapoussin whose left ear was under a white bandage that showed a stain of blood. "It is glorious!" cried he, pirouetting across the floor, "and see, I am wounded! A?bullet tore a gash in my ear; I shall have honorable mention. But, oh, it is a great victory] We tore them all to rags!" He went to the bedside and took a hand of Fairfax between both of his. "Ah, monsieur, the whole plain down yonder is red with dead British soldiers, and our army is not hurt," he went on rapidly, almost oht of breath. < ^ a ?? ? .'J "urapauu, aum rauiu, gu icwu Mademoiselle Pauline Vernon here to me." Madame Souvestre started and looked quickly back and forth, from Fairfax to the dwarf. "Mademoiselle Pauline Vernon," she repeated, with a confused expression in her face, "oh, to be sure; bat-; " she hesitated. "I made a foolish request," said Fairfax, quickly. "Of coarse it cannot be done. Forgive me; I fear my strength has fallen off until my mind is weak." "No, no, monsieur; but y)u talk too much; you must not do it. Certainly, though, Mademoiselle Vernon can come to my house to see you. Go, Crapaud, order my carriage and bring the mademoiselle here." f.ranitTwl ftnt. nf t.VlA uug ivnvnvu w-? ? ? room, and when they were on the stair she stopped him and said: "Is Mademoiselle Vernon his cousin or other kin?" "No, madame." "Is he ber lover?" "Yes, madame." "Crapaud Crapoussin, if you bring her heie, I will kill you, do you hear?" "Yes, madame." She wrung her hands and looked down into the distorted face of the dwarf. "No, no, Crapaud!" she presently added, her voice softeniug and the tears rising in her eyes, "no, no, I am foolish?I did not mean that? Here Crapaud!" She drew forth her purse and gave him some pieces of gold, pieces hard to get in those days. "Tako this, and make haste! Go bring Mademoiselle Vernon. Do you hear? Hurry!" "Bat, madarae," said Crapaud.with a sheepish smile an be pocketed the money, "Mademoiselle Vernon is a prisoner in the bands of tbe British. I lind to speak as I did to Monsieur Fairfax, because he ought not to know that the mademoiselle is a prisoner. It would' excite him, kill him, to know." Madame Souvestre's face paled, and she trembled from head to foot. "These are terrible times, Crapaud," she falteml, with a meaningless intonation in her voice, "terrible times." He saw her Rasp and loose her balance. He caught her iu his sturdy arms, lifted her with ease and bore , her up the steps into a chamber wlierg he laid her on a couch; then he ran for her maid and sent her to her mistress. "Bah! It is very bad," he muttered to himself, "this way of the women. I It 18 01 ways JOVe uuu suasuj ?iiu weui, Bab!" He fumbled the bandage over bis ear and grimaced hideously as he | looked at the blood tbat bad oozed ' out upon bis fingers. Fairfax waited for what seemed an I age to him before Madame Souvestre returned. Sbe was pale, but the smile on ber lips and tbe ready cleverness of ber manner bid from birn tbe fact thaf sbo bad been suffering. He knew tbat sbe bad a brother iu Jackson's army, a young fellow just coming te manhood; she had spoken of bimoften, and be attributed her excitement tc uneasiness about him. Crapaud Crapoussin returned at tbe end of an hour and said that Pauline was wot at home. "She is very well, though," be volunteered to remark, "the servants told me so." "Thank you! I nm glad you did not find ber. I wns balf dreaming when I asked you to fetcb ber; it was absurd. Fairfax was looking at Madame Sonvestre wbile be spoke. Something in the deptb of ber eye as she momentarily returned bis gaze was a rev elation; he felt a strange, sorrowful thrill go through him. After all, her kindness to him had brought her but suffering. Ho was aware of this tomc; tha knowledge came to him through one of those obscure but ever reliable veins of '.'onsciousness by which we receive all of the most precious and many of the mo6t saddening impressions of life. Trio* a!-* a tVtsNTi s\f It ar lirnfVt or " """ l"C" lUWUfcULU W Why hail she not inquired about him 1 of Crapaud Crapoussin? She felt guilty and abashed, and her heart throbbed painfully. Turning upon the dwarf wi$b a sudden flare of fretfulness in her face, she demanded: "Why have you not told me of my brother, Emile?!' Crapaud's countenance grew asb engray, and his usual clever glibness forsook him wholly. "Oh, yes, your brother ? your brother Emile is?oh, he is very well; yes, he " "Monsieur Crapoussin!" "Yes, madame, your brother " ) "Monsieur!1' j "Monsieur Emile, your brother is " "CrapaudI" "Is dead?shot?killed!" Crapand bubbled these worls forth as if frightened almost out of his senses. That afternoon they brought the dead soldier home to his .sister's house aud prepared him for burial. CHAPTER XXIX. ; AT LAST. Bums, "when he caught sight of Pierre Bameaa making his way through 1 the woods into the swamp, rushed after him with the energy of one who ] feels that the spurt of strength vouch- 1 safed to him is to be short and fiual. The old man knew that to fail now meant to fail forever. The terrible < excitement^ exposure and effort of the j past fortnight had drained the cup of j ' 1 ? 1 ? ' A - A.1? i?ii.^ mu A ms vitality almost to me uuuuui, xuu ; fire of monomaniacal frenzy bad j burned so fiercely in his breast of j late that his eyes showed the effect by ? a wild, steadfast, strained stare, not ( unlike that of a dead man. When he ^ shamble 1 past Pauline at the edge of , the swamp, be did not see her, so in- j tently was bis gaze set upon the re- < treating figure of the victim he longed ' for. j "Kirk MacCollough!" be called, and ^ the name rasped the woods like a file. "Kirk MacCollough, I am coming!" At the sound of the voice the dark ' man baited and turned about. "You bad better come no fartheii" he coolly said. "Stop right here!" Burns slackened his pace, but came steadily ilpon him, fumbling meantime for the knife in his bosom, his drawn feature set and rigid. Rameau retreated, walking slowly backward, fixing bis tiger-like eyes ?iM.<1 1 ? An iKa aM r>-?oti'q fr>no blCttUlljr uu bug vtu wuu u ?MVvi Pauline ran bacu to the house as soon as Rameau left her: so she did not hear the voices of the two men, although they rang with strange distinctness through the moss-hung aisles of the forest. "Max Burns," growled the outlaw, with a certain harsh accentuation, "I do not wish to injure you. Keep off!" "Ha! Ha! Injure me! You cannot; I am beyond that. Injury is already hardened upon me like a mail. Death itself cannot find a loose joint." He was speaking with the preacher's intonation and his words had a suggestion of the pulpit. "Though you be Satan himself, I will prevail over you! Yea, now is your time come to die!" (to ee continued.) Whistled as They Oieil. It was the fourth day after the late General Lawton's force had left Manila on its dash into Laguna. They were approaching the town of Paete, and a squad of five of Weissenberger's sharpshooters, men from the North / Dakota regiment, were working their way through the bamboo thicket. It had been the boast of the North Dakotans that they had uot as yet lost no men in action. Suddenly the sqnad received a volley of fifty shots from an insurgent trench fifteen yards in fronj. Two men were killed, one mortally wounded, one slightly wounded, and the fifth unhurt. He was Slutland, big and red-cheeked. He does not think he did anything remarkable; but in* " -? 1 1. - .1 ?,1 hohin/l n sieau or ruumug utj mu^pcu ueuiu>> ?. rock, yelled for assistance and emptied the chamber of his rifle into the enemy. He held his ground till assistance came, and then he joined in the charge of our line, which emptied the trenches. Tiiat night, two North Dakota men who knew that their wounds we' mortal were lying on cots side Lj side. I "Let's smilo and. die game," one said. i "We might as well whistle, too," was the reply. 1 They whistled until their breath ' gave out. and then they died smiling. ?Now York World. i ? ] Tliree Chivalrons Young Men. The age of chivalry is not dead. A small girl was coming down the steps J of the elevated railroad. She came j ' -V - I I I clown in jumps, one Biep ai a uuie, after the manner of smali girls, and sbe held nu open bag of caudy in her i band. Tbree young men, in the awe. some regalia of correct young men orf their way to make a party call, started ' to ascend the stairs. Tho small girl's i eyes opened wide and fixed them- ! i selves 011 the row of shining hats api proaching. She continued to jump, one step at a time, missed her footing, and just saved herself from falling by j 1 grasping the handrail. But the can1 ilies bopped high in the air out of 1 the paper-bag and flew in a chocolate ' 1 shower over the tbree exquisites. For an instant they stood amazed, staring ' 1 at the puckered-up face of tho young 1 i lady in short skirts. She was the ' ronnooi. nMaonpfl nf mind (and her equilibrium) and at once set about 1 . recovering ber chocolates. The three vonng men took the bint. And tbe 1 birds in tbe square near by twittered with mirth to see three frock-coated, gloved, high-hatted irreproachables stooping and peering and bumping i against each other as they gathered up the sweetmeats of a maiden in ^ short skirts.?New York Commercial ' Advertiser, . - ; -c, :-y- ' ^ v- >v. v-.--' ? THE REALM i&?B?B33?8saeBm New York City.?Military styles have taken an acknowledged place and are In great demand, both for house and street wear. The glint of gold, the MILITARY SHIRT WAIST. straight standing collar, the strappings and the brass buttons are all dear to the feminine heart. The chic May Manton waift illustrated includes all the essential features, and can be relied upon to give ample satisfaction. As shown., it is of dark red silk flannel, combined with black velvet, and trimmed with gold braid and buttons, but can be varied again and again. The foundation is a fitted lining that closes at the centre front. On it are arranged the plain back, the vest and fronts. The vest, which tapers gracefully, is attached permanently to the ight side and hooked into place at the left, and is finished at the neck with a standing collar portion that meets that j )f the waist. The fronts are plain at :he shoulders, but gathered at the waist and are finished with applied sands of the material.. The shoulder seams are covered with pointed straps, ind the neck is finished with a regulation military collar that closes at the eft side, where it hooks over invisibly >nto the front portion. A pocket is inserted in the left front that finishes tvith a flap, but both it and the shoul GIRL'S C der straps can be omitted, when preferred. The sleeves are in bishop t! ? I.-.1 1 _U1, oij'ic, iiuiajjcu >v iLii liun ii". [juiulcu cuffs. At the waist is "worn a belt of black velvet ribbon held by n gold clasp. To make (bis waist for a woman of medium size tliree and three-quarter yards of material twenty-one inches wide, three and a half yards twentyseven inches wide, three yards thirtytwo inches wide, or one and threequarter yards forty-four inches wide, will be required, with live-eights yard for plastron, collar and wrist bands. Glrl'f CoKtuuie. Little girls are never more charming than when gowned in plaid materials showing bright, vivid colors. The ory pretty little May Mauton cosdine illustrated in the large cut Is made from camel's hair cheviot woven with much red and lines of black, green and yellow, and is trimmed with bands of black velvet ribbon that serve as an admirable foil. At the neck is a V-shaped shield of heavy cream lace over plain red, finished by a simple standing collar. i Tbe skirt is circular, with a single seam at tiie centre back TJio upper portion fits snugly and smoothly, but below the hips it falls in soft, undulating folds that mean ample freedom [irnl flare. The fulness at the back is laid in an inverted pleat or can be gathered, if preferred. The waist is made over n fittvd lining and, with the skirt, closes at the centre back. The V-shaped portions iro faced onto the lining and the waist proper is arranged over it. The backs are plaiu across the shoulders and drawn down in gathers at the waist line. The front is laid in two backtvard-turning tucks at each shoulder, which provides soft, full folds below, find also is gathered at the waist line. The sleeves are suug, but not' overtight. and are linished with roll-over L'UffS. To make this costume for a girl of eight years of age four and tbree'juarter yards twenty-one inches wide, or two and a half yards forty-four inches wide, will be required, with one-half yard for V-shaped shield and ten yards of velvet ribbon to trim as illustrated. The Coral Front. A stunning effect produced by a beautiful young blonde at an "at home" vvhere she was visiting was achieved in the following manner: She wore a love gray cloth frock. The skirt plain, ?vit)j 110 fur or velvet trimming, fell OF FASHION. I wwwwmirW^^wwww beneath the jacket, also quite plain. The soft chinchilla collarette was thrown back and the huge muff was carried in one hand. The jacket wa9 worn open to allow the white lace waistcoat to be seen. This is a full "blouse" front, the fulness restrained in the following manner: Four chains of pinkest corals strung on gold wire meet on the breast behind a large coral dish, which was really a clasp, or pail of clasps. The chains ran up and down to right and left, connecting the upper and lower edges of the jacket fronts with each other and with the clasp. This is very beautiful. The Smart Thing:. if yo r visiting costume ic or pastel gray or a tender almond-faun' set :t off with one or two things. Do not dream of purchasing a hat to match. You will present a much smarter appearance if you choose either a black hat, a mass of quilled chiffon arranged in waves, or a charming tuvquoise. blue felt "plateau." Trim it. with ribbon to match or with feathers the tint of your dress, and do not omit ihe correct touch of a few roses or rosebuds at one side under the brim or introduced between the superimposed folds of a double brim. Embroidered Shoes. Evening shoes and stockings are embroidered in gold. White slippers have designs done on the toes in seed pearls and gold threads. The white silk stockings *hat are worn with these have gold threads, in very delicate patterns of embroidery, running up over the instep. T,ie Latest Slit*. A novelty is phosphorized sillt, so called because the surface has a phosphorescent effect intended to suggest the glimmer on the sea. A "Woman's Waist. Fancy waists that include a waistcoat effect are exceedingly smart and much liked, both for the odd bodices and costumes made of one material. Silk, lace, chiffon and velvet are all combined, and rightly handled give a i OSTUML. most satisfactory result. The chic Mnv Mnnton deaicn illustrated is one of the latest from the other side, and will be found desirable in every way. The model is made from satin Aiglon in pastel pink with revers of cream guipure over white, soft, full front of white chiffon, and simulated waistcoat of pink panne with band of white ornameuted with small jeweled buttons. The foundation is a fitted lining that closes at the centre front. The back proper is seamless, but is joined to the fronts by means of under-seam gores. The fronts are plain and turned back to form revers. The full front, or plastron, is attached to the right side of the lining and is hooked over onto the left, and the simulated vest is stitched to position beneath the revers. The sleeves, as shown, are tucked above and below toe elbows and wrists, where they are finished with band; of lace, but. if preferred, they can be made plain. To cut this waist for a woman o? medium size four and a quarter yards of material twenty-one inches wide, or two and a quarter yards forty-four inches wide, with three-quarter yard of chiffon for full front and fiveeiirhths yard for simulated waistcoat, will be required when tucked sleeves are used; three and three-quarter rANCV WAIST. yards twenty-one Inches wide, or one and three-quarter yard forty-fcur inches wide, when pluiu sleeves arc used. \ ' GOD'S MESSAGE TO MAN* I . PREGNANT THOUGHTS FROM THE H WORLD'S CREATEST PROPHETS, < HB _ When We Look Back ? The Golden Op^ portunity ? Look Toward tbe Goal ?* li Tills Year Were Your Last ? Take < Troubles as Opportanltiea. 9B Another door, another path before ugp Leading along uncharted, unknown lands; 9fl tfo con the anil recede that hither bor? Pilgrims upon the New Year's shiningWe halt a moment in the uncertain shadows; ' T?.jgjMM We pause a little ia our onward track;. 7. Help us, 0 God, that straight may beour pathway, H When we look back! There will be trials: in their midst hold |H There will be pleasures: smile upootts^/j^B There will be sorrows: in Thine acms/^^H infold us, H| Thoa who hast borne the sorrowing- H lot of men! 9 Thorn will lip flnvs of Rtorm and night*. . HI of travail; " \ r m Like the young lions we may suffer.-/, lack; Cut O, that we may see that God has- ^ led us When we look back! - j.sWhen the ripe year has rounded tih fruition. And orchards bend, and droops the laden vine, >?.% Grant that not all unfruitful prove our- v. mission; t Give us a harvest-home of corn and,-'., wine! So may we serve beneath Thy benedic-^K tion, ,,X About the Master's business- n^ver slack; No tears shall fall from grief all unavail* When we look back. ?Emma Herrick Weed, in Christians, Enc.avor World. ' The Golden Opportunity. . - \ )a All beginnings, both of days and set- ^ vice, shine with Christ's presence and y thrill with the incentive of His trust, >$ Niaeteen centuries since the cOming of * our Lord have had their times of trial*'Vj of discouragement, of fear?the Twen- .;; tieth. openR with a light of hope and ?j faith. Brighter and clearer grow th? purposes of God through all the change* of our years. There is shadow yet, ba* ' not for him who turns his face towanl> dawn. There are mysteries-of life and $! dtath, but there is Christ, the greatest ? o? all mysteries, the dearest of allmends. There are sorrows, losses, sing? but there is joy in God, and wealth of love, and help for overcoming. Widen^,, '-i ing reuowsnip or service, euiar^iuK portnnity of work with God, deepening experience of life under guidance of the Spirit,-fill our hearts with cheer. Th? Golden Age is yet to come, the Goldea ?<* Opportunity of work with God come* ?' every day. There was never a bettei5 time to live, a clearer hope, a larger field of witness. Serenity of faith, active ity of work, joy of expectation, looking ^ for the perfect reign of lpve, crown the fjA new century's life. God is with ns toy:, our toil and rest. This is the Golden Opportunity, and in using it we hastes-^ on the Golden Age.?Isaac Ogden Ran-'/^ kin, in the Congregationalism ? i ll Look Toward the Goal. Christ was not of A. D. 30; no more . snouid you, unrist s rouower, De or a. ' D. 1901. Christ's foundations have stood & because they were pushed upward I and *5 not sunk downward. He refused at any $ point to anchor Himself to the world He had made. While helping it most He was most divorced from it. While look- , ing with most loving practical sympathy . upon the sore bodies and sorer hearts oi mortal men, there shone clearest in HI# % ejes the 'far-away look, the loek ^ohn ? followed when he saw that there is to be no more pain, no more tears. For though a kingdom on the earth* it is to be a new earth and a new hea- ' ' ven, and we are to bring it in by living & for it, and not for the old earth where the Klondikes are, and the stock ex-t changes, and the latest fashions from, >: Faris. If you wish to see plainly in the ^ present, look beyond the present. If you wish to win the world, wlq 'Q the next world. If you wish to help./'';;' men here, help them toward the hereafter. In shooting, men do not look at. "'If the musket, but at the mark; in living, the wise man will look less at the earth .i than at heaven.?Amos R. Wells, in r< no man can work." How well it will be, if there has been no loitering not "* ' neglect of anything, while the day lasts. If there is work in the church or com- - ^ munity that rests on us, let it not be -v neglected or cast on others. It will soon ' enough fall on other shoulders. When .* Wesley was asked how he would spend ?| the next day, if it we^e his last on earth, 'Si he gave the outline of a busy day, from 'h early morning till late in the evening, ;-'* and said then he would commit himself -J to God and fall asleep and awake io . ^ glory. So let this year be spent asvif it were our last, tilled up with labor land 11 prayer and self-sacrificing devotion to Christ. Whether this shall be our last year or not, it is possible to make it the best we ever spent. .Everything is pro pitious: the promises brighter than ever, grace in fuller measure, our hearts more sanctified, anil heaven nearer than ever before.?Presbyterian. Take Trouble* aa Opportunities Away, then, with all feeble complaints, all meager and mean anxieties! Take your duty and be strong in it, as God will make you strong. The harder it is the stronger, in fact, yoa will be. Understand, also, that the great question '.j here is not what you will get, but what you will become. The greatest wealth you can ever get will be in yourself. t Take your burdens and troubles and' losses and wrongs, if come they must and will, as your opportunities, knowing that God has girded you for tr'-oater I fhince tlmn thf?er? ?I-Tnrn no Rnclinnll "**?M tMM" lMVWfc' "*V,14VV v?. .rfw-j For the land whither thou goest in to possess it is a land which the Lord thy God careth for: the eyes of the Lord are cut upon it, from the beginning of the year even unto the end of the year. It is pood to begin the day, and l>egin the year, especially to begia our Jives, with