james-thomas-franklin-crimson-alters-or-a-ministers-sin-1895.txt

"Crimson Alters; Or, A Minister's Sin" Franklin, James Thomas 1895 Novel
It is sunset at Maxwell Place, and the last rays of sunlight fall in fading patches upon the emerald lawn. The tall pines, wavering in the slight evening breeze, intensify the gathering twilight, and the brooklet, passing with its murmuring music, hides its shimmering surface among the pines, while above the horizon the moon lifts its lovelit face to greet approaching night. Upon the time-worn steps of the Maxwell residence sits a lovely maiden, her silken hair flowing to her waist, a sea of flaxen thread. She is meditating. She thinks of the days of her childhood, and then comes rushing to her mind the memory of her dead mother. The scene of the death chamber comes before her. She remembers how her mother, dying, had bade her be true to herself and to her God, lest men should be persuaded to speak evil concerning her. But had she been? was the question that puzzled her. To be sure she had won many hearts and discarded as many lovers, though she was as yet just seventeen. Was she a flirt? No; heaven forbid that such a title ever be applied to one so pure in thoughts, so perfect in life. Her young heart had not as yet known love. But as certain as the blue canopies spread above us the heart that yearns to love will love with a passion unquenchable by the storms that rage in a fated life.

So this young woman was destined to love; but whom? Often had she dreamed of meeting her lover at the brook among the pines, and oft had she strayed thither, hoping her dream might prove true. But, alas! no lover came. It was from one of these expeditions a year ago that she had returned to find her mother dying. O, that beautiful evening! Try as she may, she could not forget it. How, that she had entered the death chamber and knelt at her mother's bedside. That mother, pale and dying, threw up her arms and clasped, them about her daughter's neck with this pathetic saying : "My fair and lovely daughter, only child and pride of my home, you will have much to endure, for young and beautiful girls are never safe while villainous men are uncaged. Therefore, dying, I leave you with a mother's blessing. Yea, the best advice a mother can give her daughter: Be true to yourself and to your God. Live a virtuous life, for a woman's virtue is the richest and rarest gift of God, and he who would deprive her of it is worse than the meanest thief. Judge your lover by the amount of respect he has for you, and marry him who respects you the most, for he loves you most. True love holds in absolute respect te object loved, and unless it does this it is not love, but passion of the loweest type. Therefore, much depends upon you and upon all young women, whether the young men be brutes or gentlemen. For, if young men discover that by being brutes they can win the fairest of women, then most young men will be brutes. But on the contrary, if the fairest of women, and that means the purest of women, decree that only gentlemen can win their affection, then all men will be gentlemen. For where gentlemen are in demand gentlemen will be plentiful, but when there is no demand for gentlemen there will be no gentlemen . And why should there be? There would be no way to utilize them if the ladies did not need them, and they would be a surplus product of no service whatever. So remember that every young man that falls some woman might have saved. Now, therefore, enter thou upon the mission planned for you and be a heroine in this life that you may receive a crown of joy in the next. Farewell ! " Then her arms relaxed and the fond parent fell back with a sigh of relief and her soul was gone to the God that gave it.

No wonder that the tear-drops trickle down the cheeks of the lovely maiden when she thinks of that eventful day. But it is not her nature to sit and weep, and she feels that she has done her mother's bidding, for many a lover has been discarded, not because she wished to flrt, but because he proved himself unworthy. Feeling thus a sense of having discharged her duty her face lights up with an expression of girlish delight and soon there is not so much as a trace of a tear upon that girlish face. She is her old self again, and, rising, she plucks a flower from an old flowerpot near by, and, placing it in her hair, trips lightly down the old stone steps and into the grove beyond.

And to the pines she coursed her flight, Tripping through the airy night.

Not long, however, had she wandered among the shadows when a beautiful tenor voice burst upon the silent air and echoed among the distant pines. "O what a sweet voice !" she said half aloud, u and it comes from the brook not twenty yards away. Well, I am going to see the owner of that voice." And stepping lightly to the brook's edge she gazed over the projecting ledge. Her heart stood still, for just below her sat a handsome young man toying at the end of his fishing rod while seemingly lost in song. She had seen many men quite as handsome as he, but none so attractive. What is it that brings a flush to her cheeks and starts her heart a-fluttering? She forgets her proximity to the very edge of the projecting surface and leans forward to catch the strains of that melodious voice: " My lover must be up in the cloud, For naught of her I've seen; Naught of her shapely form so proud, Tho' round the world I've been.

I would that she might drop from he cloud, Her fair and shapely form ; I'd steal one lock of her flaxen hair, "Enfold her in my arms."

Just as the last word was uttered the turf beneath her gave way and she, unable to stay her balance, was hurled headlong into, the very arms of the singer.

Handsome Jack Mc Allister, for it was he, was at first frightened nearly out of his wits, but in a moment, recovering himself and beholding the fair beauty encircled in bis embrace, his heart gave a wild and frantic leap and beat with sudden haste. Instinctively he bent and kissed the fair maiden, folding her closer to his heart.

"Heaven be praised," he whispered gently, "you have come from the cloud, and you are mine. Speak, darling, and tell me so."

By this time she had recovered from the fall and tried to release herself, and in so doing had looked up into the face of him who held her. Their eyes met, and it was the meeting of Cupid and Psyche. Two souls destined by Providence looked each other to eyes and loved.

"O, let me go!" cried she in a tremor.

"Not until you tell me that you love me," he answered passionately.

"O, you know I do," she said softly, "Now, will you let me go ? "

His arms released her and she sprang, up the bank and was lost among the pines before, he had time to intercept her.

And with fleet foot, like the wild deer, bounded. But left no track that might be hounded.

He sprang up the bank behind her, but she, had disappeared, and in spite of himself he could not tell which course she had taken.

"Who was she, I ponder?" he muttered to himself, "She is as beautiful as a poet's dream. And I am now persuaded more than ever to believe my mother's saying : ' The soul has an ideal lover planned in the creation of the soul. She says that there are several qualities in every soul that are in harmony with certain other qualities in nature, which are possessed by some other soul, and the two souls are at once instinctively attracted by each other, whether in the immediate vicinity or at opposite ends of the earth. And though each may go the world around and gaze upon faces sublimely beautiful and persons of rare intellect, yet no love is experienced, unless some quality peculiar to the one soul is found to be present in the other. Though it may admire, be fascinated or peculiarly drawn toward another, yet that is not love. And still where there are several qualities found harmonious to two souls and still some quality missing in the one or the other, a keen sensation of love may be experienced by both, but of short duration, since there is no complete circuit of harmony, for true love is one complete chain of harmony, binding two souls for eternity. And when one link of love's golden chain is missing the other links are at once perishable and may, under adverse circumstances or bitter disappointments, be replaced by hatred; but true love is ordained by high heaven, and when two souls* so destined look each other to eyes and love, such love not only lives through adversity, but endureth through eternity. Love, the noblest of all passions and a gift of God to all alike, for there are many cases in which persons meet and no sensation of love is felt until they have been constantly associated for months and perhaps years. Yet, as the image brought by sunlight passes the lense of the camera, being focused within, and falls upon the sensative plate hiding beneath its film till some powerful developer brings it forth a beautiful picture; so love may pass through the window of the soul and hide itself within, its presence unsuspected, till constant association or some powerful influence brings it forth in all of its sensitive sweetness."

"O sublime thought !" said a voice at his elbow. And, turning, he beheld his sister Kittie, her eyes beaming with merriment and she ready to burst into a fit of laughter.

"Well, Jack, what on earth are you talking about all to yourself ? Have you had a love dream?""No," he replied, "but I have had an angel drop right out of the clouds into my arms while sitting there by the brook."

"An angel ! What do you mean ? "

And then he told her the incident just related, and when he had finished he turned toward her to hear what she had to say.

"Well, I think it very rude in you to catch one of our neighbors and hold her till she begs to be released. We would not expect any more of a bear," said she, giving her lips a curl, "But hurry and let us go home, for the party is to be to-night in honor of your return and many of our neighbors will be present, and I just want you to look your best for fair Hattie Maxwell will be there, and it is said; that she is the prettiest girl in Christendom and has, had more lovers than- the man in the moon. Why, everybody just goes crazy over her; so you see that you stand in danger of losing your heart without gaining one in return."

"Bah! " said Jack, "I have not yet seen the country maiden that l am fool enough to love."

Kittie smiled, but made no reply, for she guessed from the very, first that it was Hattie who fell down the embankment into Jack's arms, but she wanted to wait and see them meet in public. Soon they were at their own doorstep; and great was their surprise to find that the guests had already begun to arrive. Each rushed in and made a hasty exchange of dress and was soon down in the drawingroom. As they entered Jack took a hasty glance around the room to see who was present. His eyes fell upon a dashing brunette, but at the first glance he decided that she was unattractive; and when he had been introduced around and had some little chat with everyone present, he beckoned Kittie to the window, and with a smile of triumph said "And that is the girl whom I am to steel my heart against, eh ? "

Kittie smiled as she regarded her handsome brother. "No," she said at length, "but you just wait a little while and she will be here. I don't understand why she is late. She does not live a great ways. Hark ! There comes a carriage down the drive. I wonder if it is she."

In a few seconds more there was a sharp pull at the door-bell and a minute later an object o£ beauty swept across the threshold. There was a stir and murmur among the guests' as she entered. And she turning and bowing toward all, swept across toward the window where Kittie was standing with her brother. Jack was mystified, for smiling before him with outstretched hands was the prettiest woman he had ever laid eyes upon; and what's was more, he recognized in her some resemance of the girl at the brook, though it did not seem to be her, for she met his gaze without wincing. And ere she had been with him ten minutes she had acted so as to convince him that she was not the girl at the brook, and still his heart went out to her. And during the rest of the evening, wherever she turned, she confronted a pair of love-lit eyes. Nor were they feminine eyes, but the deep black orbs of a handsome Appolo. At length she decided to lure him into the grounds, and accordingly stepped through the window and disappeared among the shadows. In a moment and Jack was at her side. She did not start, for she expected him.

"Why have yon followed me ? " she asked, turning toward him.

"Because I love you," he answered. And throwing himself upon his knees before her he pleaded for one word of love in return. "I have loved you from the very first," he said, "though I cannot tell why. It seems that our souls must have met and loved elsewhere, for this is not a new awakening of love I feel, but one I have felt before. I love you madly and life without you would be absolute misery. Will you be my wife ?"

All this while he had been holding her hands, but now she released them, and, drawing herself up with becoming dignity, replied: "You have known me but two hours, and now you plead with me to be your wife. I should not be surprised at this, for many like you have knelt at my feet and pleaded for the same thing, but none who had known me not more than two hours. Your sister has often spoken to me of her handsome brother and said that you had run all the girls crazy about you. I now understand how you did it. You tormented them so at first sight that they had to go crazy in self-defense. But in this case, my dear sir, it is different, though I may, for the sake of Kitty, learn to like you as a friend; you may hope nothing more. I now bid you good-night."

Thus saying, she swept across the lawn, stepped into the drawing-room to bid her friends good-night and soon her carriage was flying rapidly over the gravel walk, passing beyond and lost in the distance. Behind the shrubbery where Jack now stood abusing himself for being so rash stood another form, and a mischievieouc pair of eyes were regarding him with absolute merriment. In a moment more and a girlish form stepped from behind the bushes, and, with a mischievous little laugh, placed herself before him.

"Aha! you have never sen the country girl that you are a fool enough to love. O, my haughty brother! And yet you bow like a foolish child at Hattie Maxwell's feet and worship her who treats you with greatest contempt."

Jack looked at his sister in amazement. "How long have you been here, Miss Eavesdropper?" he asked in a tone of vexation.

"O, I followed you and Hattie here to see if you would keep your word and not let a country maiden make a fool of you," was the curt reply.

"O, thunder!" said he in an outburst of rage. "I want no more of that, I give you warning, or there might be found a cyclone playing long your cheeks, which may prove very damaging to those prattling lips of yours."

"You are not going to box my ears ! " said she saucily. Why, you need be ashamed of yourself, Jack l I am not to be blamed because you have made a fool of youself by making love to every pretty girl you have run across down here, to say nothing of the scorn and contempt you have received in return."

Before saying this she had taken precaution to place at least ten feet of earth between herself and brother. And well that she did this, for hardly had she ended the last sentence when he made a rush at her. She turned and fled, never stopping till within the very center of the drawing-room among her guests.

"What is the trouble, Kittie? " asked a half dozen voices at once. "Where is Jack ? and what made Hattie leave so abruptly?"

"For goodness' sake, girls, allow me to answer some of your questions before you proceed to ask more," said Kittie in a tone that savored of vexation. At this, to her great relief, the girls all tittered and changed the conversation to that of dress, and Kittie was soon as busy as the rest. In a few minutes and Jack was in the room, for most of the girls had their hats on and were ready to leave. So he wished to bid them good-night, a courtesy which was his duty to perform. Soon there was a general good-night, and the guests had passed out into the moon-liit night.

"Say, Jack," said Kittie, throwing her arms around her brother, "I want to beg your pardon for teasing you so ; and if you will come into the parlor I will tell you something."

He, forgivingly, bent and kissed her and then followed her into the parlor. And there he sat upon the long sofa and listened to her plan how he was to win Miss Maxwell.

"For you see, Jack," she said, "she is just the dearest, sweet thing on earth, and if you follow my instructions you will be certain to win."

"I hope so," said he. " However, I will try, and then trust the rest to fate. Now? as it is already late, suppose we part for the night ? "

He kissed her as he spoke, and soon they had retired, the one to dream of the girl he loved and the other how to tease her brother.

Day had just begun to dawn over the mead and the mockingbird had just begun to carol his first note of greeting to the early morn, when Kittie ran lightly up the Maxwell stoop and finding the door already open, the servants being astir, passed noiselessy up to Hattie's room. She paused at the bedside of the beautiful sleeper and bending, planted a kiss upon the lips of the unsuspecting dreamer.

"Hattie, wake up," she said and the closed eyes opened.

"Why Kittie, what brings you out so early? You must have run an errand of some kind, so sit down upon the bed and tell me all about it."

Kittie obeyed and putting her arms around Hattie, they whispered a long conversation.

Then they shook hands, each agreeing to carry out some plot and Kittie was gone. She tripped it gayly across the meadow as she returned homeward.

"Oh, what a dilemna Jack will be in when he finds that the girl of the brook is one of our neighbors and a relative af Hattie. It is a capital joke and I am just the person to see it out."

Thus musing she passed up the back stairs to her own room.

"Inside once more, and unobserved," she thought as she threw herself upon her bed soon to be lost in slumbor.

It was nine o'clock when she awoke and dressed herself for breakfast. On entering the dining room she found her brother already there, "Good morning, brother! Why you beat me down, didn't you? Well, I will apologise for having kept you waiting by taking you on a drive through the plantation after you have finished your breakfast. Would you like to go?"

"Yes, I think I would enjoy it," said he, "and was just about to propose the same to you."

"Oh were you? Then I am glad, for we will have a chance to see many of our neighbors in the fields, and very pleasant neighbors they are."

The breakfast was eaten in almost silence save a word now and then from Kittle and her brother would nod assent.

Soon breakfast was over, and Jack and his sister were flying along the lanes and through farms, drawn by as spirited a pair of horses as the country could afford. They stopped often to talk to the farmers by the way and he was hoping that they might stop at Maxwell Place. But Kitty who had the reins, as they neared it, made no stop. Miss Maxwell stood at the gate looking a perfect picture of beauty, her flaxen hair gathered in a knob at the back of her head and her dainty finger toying at the ring of her parasol. She smiled and nodded as the Mc Alister carriage swept by and then walked off in the direction of the brook. Jack could scarcely keep from leaping from the carriage and following after her. She was sublimely beautiful. However a look from his. sister who had divined his intention restrained him. "She is very pretty isn't she," said he in answer to his sister's reproachful look.

"Yes, very, but I will show you one on the road equally as beautiful. She is a relative of Hattie and very much like her. The chief point of difference being this; the one is proud and aristocratic, the other, simple and child-like. But look! There is the brunette you criticised so last night, let us stop and have a chat.

Maud De Fivas leaning upon her gate with her long black hair streaming down to her waist, presented a striking picture. Jack thougnt her more attractive than the night before and would have talked much longer had not Kitty put whip to the horses and sent them speeding down the avenue. At the same time another figure, superbly beautiful with long flaxen hair flowing loosely over her shoulders and she child-like in appearance, might have been seen tripping over the meadow from Maxwell-Place towards the farms.

She turned into the same road along which the Mc Alister carriage must soon pass and leaping the fence nearby, proceeded to where some people were gathering hay. After exchanging a few whispered words with the foreman, she picked up a rake and began to collect the scattered hay into piles and to toss it upon the wagon. She had not worked long ere a handsome carriage rolled up and stopped opposite the cottage below her. from the carriage came, forth a lady and gentleman and walked across the hayfield towards herv She did not look up and was apparently unaware of their approach until the lady addressed her."Why Evelyn! we find you in the hayfield and we have just come to visit you."

She turned and on beholding the gentleman uttered an exclamation of surprise. He at the same time made a similar exclamation. for they had recognized each other. Each stood gazing at the other blushing and unable to speak, as it seemed, until Kittie interfered.

""Well this beats me. I thought I would have the pleasure of introducing you to my brother, Evelyn, but it seems that you two have met before. Now tell me all about it, for Jack has not told me."

"O," she said seemingly recovering herself, we met accidentally at the brook yesterday." Jack and Kittie exchanged glances."O, yes, now I understand," said Kittie. My brother was telling, me that he had met an angel by the brook and in fact spent the whole time at the party last night, looking for her. I do not see why I did not think of you. Why did you not come? You received your invitation, did you not?"

"O, yes" replied Evelyn, but it was late when I got home and I felt indisposed." Evelyn was now moving off towards her cottage where she intended to entertain her visitors.

"Come both of you and never mind last night, but let us think of today,"

And with one hand taking Kittie's, she took Jack's with the other and like three children walked off towards the house.

Once inside and seated, Kittie excused herself on pretense of going to speak to the foreman. This suited Jack, for she had scarcely cleared the gateway when he moved over beside Evelyn and grasping her hand in his, passed one arm around her waist and poured into her ears sweetest words used by human tongue.

"Evelyn, dearest, you evaded me at the brook but can't do so now. You then said you loved me, and now you must say that you will be my wife. Speak, darling, and tell me so."

She looked him steadily into the eyes, her whole soul speaking in that one brief moment and then she dropped her head and said: "Jack you know I love you. I can't help it, but am so afraid that you are trying to deceive me. Suppose I put you to test. Are you willing to answer a few questions truthfully?"

"I promise to answer truthfully, darling, whatever you may ask."

"Then tell me if you love me, exclusively." "I love you and no one else" he answered. "How long have you loved me thus?"

"Ever since we met at the brook."

"And you have not loved another since?" "No."

"Then I am the only woman to whom you have ever spoken words of love?"

"Yes I swear it to be true."

She sprang to her feet and with eyes flashing with anger said: "Jack Mc Alister, you know that you lie. You are deceit itself. Do you not suppose that I being kinswoman to Hattie Maxwell would know before this late hour that you met and proposed to her on your knees last night, not two hours after you met and made love to me? And you told her the very same thing you have been telling me. Now listen. I love you, but you have insulted me and my kinswoman by your deception, and we must part—yes part now and forever, farewell!" She bursted into a storm of tears and then left the room. He would have pursued her but she had taken the precaution to lock the door through which she passed and he could do nothing but sit and grieve because he had lost the one he loved. Kitty was now returning from the field and as she entered the room by way of a side entrance and beheld the troubled expression on her brother's face she broke into an exclamation of surprise. "Why, what on earth is the matter with you, Jack? and where is Evelyn?" He beckoned her to be seated and in whispered words related all that had occurred. When he had finished, Kitty rose with a smile and said that she would find Evelyn. So entering by means of an open window which Jack had failed to notice, she instituted a search for her through-out the house, occasionally calling out at the top of her voice, "Evelyn ! Evelyn!" but Evelyn was no-where to be found and she returned. "Well, brother, she has flown and we may as well take leave." And soon they were speeding homeward through the farms.

"Suppose we stop at Maxwell's Place." said Kittie, and Jack was delighted, so much so that the carriage was scarcely brought to a halt when he leaped to the ground, scarcely waiting to assist her, and ascended the step before the Maxwell-Mansion. He placed his hand on the door bell, but ere he could ring, the door opened and Hattie stood smiling before him.

"Welcome to you both," she said waving them to the parlor.

She shut the door and joined them, taking a seat beside Jack upon the sofa. He cast a long and wistful look upon her angelic face and figure, and his heart beat so loud that she could hear it. She caught his gaze, their eyes meeting long without wincing, and her heart ran wild with excitement but she did not betray it. She led them on a merry conversation and when they arose to go she persuaded them to stay for dinner. Jack was hopelessly in love with the woman beside him and at dinner he was too nervous to enjoy his meal.

Hattie noticed it and so did Kittie but they did not appear to do so.

But there came another minute more trying to Jack than any he had experienced, he had not eaten a dozen mouthfulls when a servant entered bearing a folded note upon a salver. "A note from Miss Evelyn to Miss Hattie," he said bowing. And placing the note beside her plate he retreated from the room. She took the note between her dainty fingers and carefully unfolding it, bent her eyes upon its contents. In a few moments the note dropped from her fingers and her eyes turned upon Jack. He felt her piercing eyes searching his very soul and believing that the note told of his proposal to Evelyn that morning He turned deathly pale and at the same time great beads of sweat poured down his face and fell upon his white bosom shirt. She took her eyes from his face and slowly said: ""Evelyn has gone, left at twelve to live with her aunt in the North, never to return." Kittie gave an exclamation of surprise. ""And why such a sudden flight?" She asked.

""Ask your brother',' replied Hattie.

"How should I know?" asked he, his voice weakened almost to a whisper.

"Why, because you ran her away," retorted Hattie, and to be sure Mr. Jack, you must have a heart as large as the ocean in order to be able truthfully to make love to every girl you meet. Now tell me, do you love Evelyn?"

"Yes," said Jack angrily, "and I will follow her to the end of the earth or find her."

"Ah!" exclaimed Hattie, her eyes sparkling with wonder," then you insult me: for it was but last night you swore on your knees that you loved me and now you tell me to my face that you love another—I admire your nerve."

Jack saw at once that he was caught and tried to find words to explain himself, but failing, turned to Kittie for help. And what he saw only angered and troubled him the more, for she had actually fallen back in her chair and gone into a paroxysm of laughter. He hastily rose from the table and left the room.

Kittie, anticipating his move, rose and followed, leaving Hattie at the table. And well she did, for scarcely had she time to gain a seat in the carriage ere he threw lashes to the horses and sent them flying over the dusty road. At home he left her to climb out as best she could, and reaching his own room, packed his valise and left the house without saying to any one goodbye.

And time brings not news good or bad, As months roll down its turbid stream, Naught of the gallant errant lad.

But many a vague and wandering dream.

Month after month had passed.

Christmas had come and gone and now the winter was passing into spring and yet no message from Jack had arrived to cheer the expectant hearts at home. Kittie, despondent went abroad early in the year and would not return before mid-winter next. This made it very lonely for Hattie, for her neighbors were verv busy with the farm and there was nothing for her to do, except to call occasionally at Mc Alister home to learn what she could from Kittie. Spring had passed and then the summer, and autumn now was painting upon his canvas the golden scenes of nature. The early October wind is stirring and the dead leaves rattle beneath its gentle touch. The woodland thrush is caroling the close of day and the sunbeams kiss the brook goodnight as it wends its way through the pines. Along the woodland path that leads from the Mc Alister home trips a beautiful girl and as she turns a bend in the path, she comes face to face with a handsome man.

"Jack!" she exclaims in a tone of joy that tells him she is glad to see him. He extends his hand and she places hers in his and he turns and walks beside her towards the brook.

"Hattie," he said, "you said once that I had insulted you, and I have come to beg your pardon and then say farewell.

When I told you I loved you it was true. Though just two hours before I had met and loved Evelyn and I have loved her ever since. But when I met you, you were so much like her that I fell in love with you and loved you as much as I did her.

Indeed I have ever since loved you both to madness. And having lost all hope of ever winning you or even conquering your haughty pride, I went in search of her.

"Failing to find her once, I am going again, this time never to return unless I find her. And though months may fade into years and my head be frosted by age, yet will I search until I find her, through life and then eternity. Now darling, since I have loved you both, you will not refuse to kiss me farewell?"

They were standing beside the brook when he spoke and he thought he felt her arm tremble as she slipped it from his and mistaking her silence for anger turned and, raising his hat, was up the bank at a bound.

"Jack! . O, Jack! don't leave me thus!"

The words were faint but he heard them and turning saw her reclining against the bank weeping. In a moment more she was in his arms. He bent his head to kiss the tear-stained cheek and she threw her arm around his neck. His eyes rested upon the golden bracelet that encircled her rounded arm and she at the same time slipped the comb from her hair, allowing it to fall in a flaxen mass over her shoulder. He read the inscription on the bracelet and could not believe his senses, for there before him in a bold inscription was the name. "Hattie Evelyn Maxwell."

He looked down into her face, and seeing that mass of flaxen hair, that childish face and a pair of love lit eyes looking up into his, he knew that Hattie and Evelyn were one and the same person and raised his eyes to heaven and thanked God that he had loved them both. Before the night was far spent he had asked Mr.Maxwell for his daughter's hand in marriage and it was granted, the wedding being set for the last of October. Long did the month seem to the lovers and no evening passed that did not see them upon the brook hovering in each other's embrace.

It is now just two days before the wedding and Jack is upon the brook waiting for Hattie that they may talk over the wedding so near at hand. But that little beauty was seated on the old porch with her arms around-her papa pleading that the wedding so long hoped for mignt be postponed.

"For you see papa," she was saying, "Kittie will be home about the last of December and then she can act as bride's maid and I know it will please Jaok."

"Just as you wish," said the father, "but it bodes no good to postpone a wedding and you will see."

At this Hattie gave a merry ringing little laugh and throwing her arm about her father's neck, kissed him and then like a fresh young butterfly just awaken from its torpid chrysalis by the sweet scented breath of spring, flits through the gateway and to the pines in search of her brook-side flower.

"Why Hattie," exclaimed Jack, how long you have kept me waiting!" And rising to meet her, took her hand in his and led her to a grass plot and bade her be seated. And then he sat besideher and looked down into her lovelit eyes as if reading the very depths of her soul. At length he spoke.

"Will you now tell me why you kept me waiting so long?' She raised her eyes to his.

"Yes,I will tell you, Jack, but I know that you will not like it, though in my opinion I have done what was best." "What did you do?"

"Well, I made papa consent to have the wedding postponed until the last of December. Your sister then as you know will be home and I can have her as my bride's maid. It was she who was instrumental in making our lives a Romance and I think she ought to be given the pleasure of seeing us united, don't you?"

"Well, from your standpoint of view, yes.

But I would rather not have the wedding postponed, since it will create so much comment. And besides it is too close to be postponed anyway. I am of the opinion if it is postponed to day, it will never be at all."

"O, Jack!" gasped Hattie, "you doubt me?" "How can you do so when you know I love you so?"

"I do not doubt you, dear, but who knows what may happen in the future. However if you wish it, it shall be as you wish. And I will go abroad so as to bring Kittle home earlier. Thus having spoken they joined hands and vowed that nothing earthly should come between them and the day of their union. How vain was that vow and how grim future smiled when he heard it, and could the young lovers have seen that face bewreath-ed with smiles, they would have at once changed their vow and their young hearts, as they parted at the moon-lit entrance of Maxwell-Place, would not have beatten so lightly. Next day however found Jack with traveling bag in hand, waiting at an uptown station, in a distant city, for the incoming express which was to take him to the sea far from Maxwell-Place. Ah! could he these words have read he would have hastened home:— If once those wedding bells are stayed And fate forbids them ring, If once the wedding is delayed, Not even Cupid's rushing wing Can ever more persuade them ring For love will be betrayed.

At home the people are wild over the news that the wedding has been postponed and Jack gone abroad. "No good will come of this" was heard to say many of the older people while many of the younger people in person had called upon Hattie to see why such a thing ha'd been done. She dismissed them all with a smile and the assurance that all would end well.. - "For there is nothing in the old bug bear, No good comes of a wedding once delayed" she said. And having dismissed the last of her inquisitors, she went in quest of her father. She found him in the library reading the morning paper. As she entered he put the paper aside and greeted her with a smile.

"Good morning my charming daughter!" "You were not down to breakfast. I supposed your neighbors had beseiged you in your room. I saw several of the girls going up to your room before I got out of bed good, and they seemed to be quite put out about you postponing the wedding and I agree with them, it was a foolish thing. However I don't mean to scold you now, so sit down and talk awhile with me; for I have news to tell you."

She kissed him as was her wont to do, and then dropped upon the floor at his feet and looking up into his face, asked what it was he had heard so pleasant, "Our new minister has arrived," said he, "and has just called to see us but you were so busy chatting with those misses up stairs that I thought it best not to call you. He is a very handsome chap and seems to be so well-bred and highly refined. He ' will preach for us in the new chapel tomorrow. That is why he called on me. I being a deacon of the church, he wants me to be present this afternoon at conference. I am sure he wil be liked by the laity of the church. Even you my dear, who always has been opposed to preachers will like this one."

And highly pleased at what he considered good fortune for the people of the community, Mr. Maxwell passed his fingers through his daughter's hair with a great deal of satisfaction while he waited for her reply.

"Well, papa, I hope I may be as well pleased with onr new minister as you seem to be. I am sure the people ought to treat him kindly. As for me, I shall do the best I can in trying to make his stay pleasant, though I must confess that I have little faith in his being single. For as you know, papa, nearly all the ministers tell the tale of being Single as soon as they get ten feet from their wives. And as far back as I can remember, every preacher that we have had came with that tale, "I am single," and before his term had ended, had despoiled some young woman of her virtue, and as a shield against forced marriage, proved beyond a doubt that he was married and posessed a family, of children. Then when the church reported the facts to the presiding elder, that divine was himself so corrupt that he not only gave the preacher a good recommendation to the bishop but had him promoted to eldership over the same circuit. Now if this is not an outrage on the pulpit, tell me what is. The ministery now adays is but a cloak for deviltry, and behind it all classes of women-killers shield themselves from punishment for their crimes. Every man who wishes to ruin some woman by robbing her of of her virtue, proceeds at once to the conference and applies for a license to carry out his hellish purpose in the name of Jesus. And it is granted. But if he succeeds well in destroying some woman's virtue, the next general conference ordains him elder and sends him back to the same circuit to run the race for bishopric. Having succeeded in ruining every young woman in his domain, and having caused a new census to be taken of a new population; there is a call cession of conference to elect him bishop. There is a mock ordinance and the Bible and hymn book are placed upon, his head and he admonished in the name of Jesus to forever support the cause of Christianity, moralty and virtue. How the words tickle his soul! His face stretches into a broad grin as he looks up and beholds, looking him straight into the face, ten-thousand women whom he has ruined, ten-thousand babies ready to call him papa and ten-thousand drunkards ready to welcome him home to the saloons. O, sacred alters, how much thou hast been wronged! O, heaven and God, ten-myriad voices call upon thee for vengeance! For thy most sacred dwelling, the pulpit, now floats like a miniature ship upon a sea of sin, And upon her deck stands the minister as captain. How he rubs his sin-stained hands as he beholds ten- million young women, tossed by him over board, sinking beneath the sin-boiling waves of perdition!"

"Hattie, O, Hattie, for heaven's sake stop!" said Mr. Maxwell, his eyes filled with tears. But Hattie went on.

"The church is gone, for her alters are lost; her sacred chairs adrift upon a swelling tide of tobbacco spit, her deacons drunk, the virtue of her women casted hopelessly upon the mercy of him who would destroy it, the preacher. O, heaven! fair heaven! tell me to what end will unrestrained deviltry hurl itself: into what haven will the tempest tossed church be finally anchored: in what age will thy holy alters protect rather than destroy the sacred virtue of women? Ten-million saints are looking down from their heights above to witness our progress in moralty and religion. But alas! no longer can we gratify their expectations: for their eyes no longer feast upon a shrine of mundane purity. No longer does thy alter beam by righteous splendor lit, ornate and brilliant, but rises up like some rocky barrier, frowning dark through its sin winkled vissage upon all that is good and just."

At that moment overcome by emotion she paused to look up at her father. He was weeping bitterly, his emotion being incontrolable. While his daughter spoke he had been watching the expression of her face and saw a holiness there he had never seen before. She was so much like her mother, and a purer being and more devout Christian never lived. So as he gazed upon her and thought of how broken hearted he would be should his fair child fall victem to one of these despoilers of virtue as she had so eloquently painted them—and the more he thought of it, the less he was able to bear the strain—and breaking down beneath the burden of such thought his eyes had melted into tears.

"Papa! O, papa!" said Hattie rising and putting her arms around him," I have made you cry and I am so sorry. But what I said was true and you know it. And O, I had such a fretful dream last night, papa. I dreamed that Jack and I stood before the alter to be married and when we joined hands, the preacher who was performing the ceremony took from some place of concealment a knife, with which, at one fell blow he severed our hands in twain and interposed himself with a grin that was simply horrible to see. So frightened was I, that I at once awoke and then commenced to weep. I. am not superstitious, papa, but I don't much like that dream: it is a foreboding of evil and means no good to Jack and me."

"Well," said her father, "I told you not to postpone the wedding, for I, all along have had a strange feeling about it, but all may yet end well. Who knows?"

"You are right papa. It will yet end well, for I have sworn that nothing shall come between me and Jack, and nothing shall." As she uttered these words she tossed her head and a saucy smile burst into wavelets over her child-like face, and in a moment she had forgotten the lengthy sermon she had preached to her father and scampered off to look after the dinner so that he might not be late for conference. Mr. Maxwell was thoughtful for a moment, and reclining in his great arm chair, fixed his eyes upon the ceiling. A minute later he aroused himself to other thoughts. The church was occupying his thought. Through his mind there were revolving schemes plausible enough for the new condition of affairs. "With this young chap at the head, our church will dawn a new era into its history." This he said half aloud as he rose and betook himself to the kitchen to see if dinner was ready. Hattie was just about to ring the bell as he entered. Seeing him enter, she hurriedly dropped the bell and whirled his favorite chair into place and bidding him be seated took her own place at the foot of the table, which place she had held since her mother's death. The meal proved to be a tempting one and Mr. Maxwell ate with increasing appetite, at the same time cracking jokes with his daughter as though he was but twenty when in reality he was nearing sixty. When dinner was over he donned his coat and hat and with his favorite walking cane twirling about his finger, walked off rapidly towards the church. It was quite six o'clock when he returned with heart over flowing and much news to tell his daughter.

"He is just the man!" he, exclaimed after having given his daughter the usual kiss on returning. "Why my dear he preached for us after conference and you should have heard that sermon. It was eloquent and touch-ing. lt made me think that youth had once more dawned upon this decrepit frame of mine."

"O papa! he must have mesmerized you to make you talk like that. However, I am a little curious about this new minister and promise that on tomorrow I shall be the first in our pew that I may hear him."

"Thanks, my dear!" said he fully believing that should she hear him she would like him more than she thought. Hattie divined his thoughts and made haste to set him right.

"No, no! she said, I will never like him, but only want to discover whether he is true or deceitful like his kind."

At this Mr. Maxwell seemed a little disappointed but he did not dare argue with her for fear that she might preach him another sermon: so bitter was she against preachers. So wishing no repetition of the morning's scene he finished supper in silence, hoping that time might develop some changes in the mind that now seemed so inflexible. When supper was over he arose from the table, kissed his daughter goodnight and wished her happy dreams and pleasant slumber.

"What a beautiful Sunday, and how the birds do carole their sabbath glee!" exclaimed Hattie as she tripped along the path leading to the church.

"I think I had better hurry, for there goes the last belltap and I am a quarter of a mile away."

Light footed as she was, she was late in reaching the church and not wishing to disturb the services by entering late, sought a side door and found her way to the choir. The new minister had been sitting near the organ and as she approached, he arose with a look of deepest surprise. He had never seen woman so sublimely beautiful.

"I wonder who she is," he was thinking as his eyes involuntarily followed her into the choir. "She must be a little haughty" he thought, "or she would never have passed me without a bow, knowing that I am the new minister here." "Ah! she takes her seat at the organ. Now I will find out if she has any genuine talents or whether they placed her there for ornament."

Just then the organ began to pour forth a tune of sacred harmony and a rich soprano voice bursted forth in sweetness, filling the empty air with its trembling strains till the entire chapel resounded one trembling sea of sound. O, how the tears welled up to many eyes and how heaven bursted into many hearts! "Ecstatic minds leaped forth and swept over heaven's portals borne on that harmonious swell. The minister not one moment had taken his eyes from the face of the singer. He studied her perfect features, he noted her graceful form and for one minute thoughts flashed through his mind that one day will prove to be dirty spots in the minister's crown. Meanwhile, Hattie was studying the face of the preacher. She did it however without appearing to do so. And the way she did it was by placing directly before her a small mirrow and reflector. Thus by looking straight to the front she could see all that was taking place at either side. So it was that as she sang she looked into the handsome face of him who stared unwincingly at her. He possessed a peculiarly handsome face and a pair of eyes that would search a woman's sou I to its depths. These eyes were fixed upon Hattie and with Hindi powerful magnetism that it made her start and for one moment forget the song. She pushed the glass away she could not look into those eyes, they filled her soul with fear and when she had ended her song she sought her, father's pew out in the congregation leaving the organ in charge of the assistant organist. When she left the choir many eyes followed her. wondering why she had left just at the time they needed her most. But when they saw her enter her father's pew all thought she had gone temporarily and would soon return. In this they were mistaken, For she settled herself down beside her father and there remained during the rest of the service. She was not by any means a hired organist. Her extraordinary musical talent had led the members of the church to persuade her to take the lead in the choir and she had agreed to do so with the understanding that she might leave it when she pleased. So on this particular occasion she took advantage of this liberty and sat in the audience with her father. The Divine was eloquent in his sermon. Every word Boomed to strike home to Homo one's heart, and even Hattie at one time dropped a tear. Mr. Maxwell was so filled with emotion that he could scarcely contain himself; And when the meeting was over he stepped! forward and caught the minister's hand and gave it a hearty shake. Then after some greatdeal of enthusiastic eulogy on the sermon he turned his eyes toward the pew which he had just left.

"Come" said he "and I will introduce you to my daughter, the organist of our church. For since you are to be with us as pastor, it is well for you to know all of your flock."

And he turned toward the spot where he had just left Hattie waiting. But she having divined his intention had slipped through the doorway and, with some merry school girls romping, was tripping the woodland home.

"Well, she has gone and left me, he said.

I suppose she has found some frolicsome little miss to go with her romping through the wood-lands."

"Why, is she that fond of romping?" asked the minister with a smile.

O, yes, she is very playful and would miss a good dinner to have a pleasant frolic in the woods—but by the way, would you not like to go with me to dinner?" "Hattie is probaly off for the rest of the evening and we can have the dinner all to ourselves, and a pleasant evening's chat besides."

The minister was thoughtful awhile. If she was not to be there he could see no need of his going, but on second thought he decided it would gain Mr. Maxwell's favor and wisely accepted the offer. Arm in arm they left the church by the path leading along the brook, that being the nearest way home. The young Divine was very witty and entertaining, making the walk homeward a very pleasant one. When they reached home, Hattie had out stripped them and was reclining in a hammock on the front porch reading. She was so absorbed in what she was reading that she did not see her father and the minister until she heard foot-steps upon the porch and her father's voice ringing in her ear.

"Well, you did not wait for us, my dear, and I thought you were taking a romp in the woods with some of the girls. Allow me to introduce to you our new minister, Rev. Daniel Spikenard." She bowed and extending her hand, said: "I am pleased to meet the Rev. Spikenard, for I am sure I have enjoyed one of his best sermons today. Now Reverend how are you this fine day?"

Her whole manner was so charming and inviting that even Mr. Maxwell was surprised. Rev. Spikenard was at first dumbfounded. Her ravishing beauty paralysed him. However in short he gained his speech and assuring her that he was in a perfect state of health, complimented her for having rendered such a striking piece of music at the opening service.

"But," he added, "I was surprised to see you leave the choir at the very time when most needed. Now tell me why you did it" he said with a smile.

"O, I wanted to enjoy all the service myself," she said, "and, not being the regular organist, I thought I would sit with papa in the audience. I sing and play sinply because I like to help the church and may stop when ever I choose. Now then am I not excusable?"

"0, yes," he made haste to reply, "But I hope you will throughout my stay remain in the choir. We can't do without your voice, it is the life of the choir."

O, thank you sir, you flatter me, but I assure you if there is any thing in my power that I can do to advance the interest of the church, I will do it."

Then changing the subject she led him on a discussion of science until the bell rang for dinner. Mr. Maxwell led the way and Mr. Spikenard, giving Hattie his arm, followed chatting all the while. The dinner was a lively one and Hattie was what made it so. It was her custom to crack jokes at the dinner table, and now she makes the Reverend gentleman forget his pastorship as she rattles away with her most witty sayings and repartees. Her father who always enjoyed a good joke joined her and all laughed away in the merriest sort of way. When the dinner was over, Hattie took the preacher on a stroll through the grounds, leaving her father to enjoy a pleasant nap until they returned. The preacher thought it the pleasantest stroll he had ever had in his life, and once or twice during the stroll had stopped to compliment the beauty of his companion in such a manner as to arouse her fears, and she asked that they might return to the house. On their return she thought it wise that she tell him that she was engaged to be married so that he might not trouble her with too much attention. She drifted the conversation into the channel of sentimentality and then exclaimed: "O, if I were not engaged to be married next month I would make it very pleasant for you. As it is, I will be so busy that I can not be able to do a greatdeal in making your stay a pleasant one, though I am sure you will find our young ladies of this community capable of winning your deepest respect if not your heart."

Then she laughed a merry rippling little laugh and changed the tide of conversation without allowing him time to reply. She did not fail however to notice the peculiar way in which he looked at her and it made her tremble. There was something in his piercing eyes that stirred her soul to uneasiness, and she was glad when the walk was ended and she was once more at home.

"Well, we've had a plersant stroll, havn't we Mr. Spikenard?" asked she, forcing a smile that pained her. He assured her that it had been the most pleasant of all his life and after talking awhile with Mr. Maxwell, took his leave. He had scarcely passed the gate-way when Hattie turned to her papa and said: "Papa, I do not like that man, there is an air about him that makes me tremble. And those eyes of his pierce me to my very soul. He looked at me once in the most peculiar way I ever saw man look at woman, and I feel the affect of it yet. O, it is the most peculiar feeling I have ever felt, it made me feel like fainting. I am sure papa, that I can't stand his visits to the house, and if you love your daughter you will forbid him the place. I feel unsafe with him in a mile of me, for he is a devil in disguise and he can't deceive me. I am not so young that I can't interpret those looks of his. He is what mamma would call a rascal and you may depend upon it. Though, you may do as you please, I have warned you." And she swept from the room leaving him perplexed and deeply troubled.

"I wonder if what she says is true. It can't be. But then woman ought to know when man is unsafe and I ought not to force his presence upon my daughter if she dislikes or suspects him, but I will have to treat him kindly I being deacon of the church."

O, fathers, dear hoary headed fathers! better fill every cell of your revolvers with balls and prepare for war than to force one dirty preacher upon a pure home. Young women though strong, can not always resist the wily tongue of the evil tempter. And were women wise, when the modern preacher comes round, they would flee to some place of hiding like so many chickens when the hawk is about, for truly lie is a human hawk and the dirtiest in all Christendom. Where is the altar that is not made crimson with virtues own life-blood, for the preachers have crucified her. Yea they have spurned her, spit upon her their foul tobacco spit, drenched her in their dirtiest liquor, robbed her of all her purity, crushed out her pure life's blood upon the altar and casted her body to the dogs. And this done by men of a sacred profession, for each carries with him these sacred articles, without which no gospel "could" be preached—"the whiskey bottle," "the dirty cigar," "a dirty and treacherous heart" and no principal at all. O heaven! how long will it last? O, mothers and fathers! how long will you subject your daughters to the cruel outrages of the pulpit? Ah, dear reader! could Mr. Maxwell have taken this view of the ministry, this sad story would probably have never been written. On the other hand however he dismissed from his mind the precious words of warning and rising summoned his daughter to prepare for church.

"Hattie! Hattie!" called he in a voice that was husky, "Come down at once, I am ready for church."

"Excuse me tonight, papa, I am not going," came back the timid response.

"All right," said he, "then I will go alone, since I must lead the prayer meeting.

"With heavy heart he left the house and wended his way to the church. Hattie sat up long that night. She was thinking of her dead mother and wishing that she had some one to advise her, but alas! it could not he. She must be her own guide since her papa did not seem to understahd in spite of all her talking. Thus she sat and thought until his footsteps resouhded in the hallway. Then she left her seat and ran lightly down stairs with a gay "Hello! papa" and threw her arms about his neck.

"Why you are not in bed yet? How is that?"

"O, I wanted to kiss you goodnight, you see, and to learn something about the meeting," she said.

"Well you just missed it by not going to church, my dear, we had another one of those heart-touching sermons that did my soul good. You must change your opinion of the new minister and go to church more. You don't know how much we missed your voice to-night. And next week the revival will begin and of course you would not stay at home when you can do so much good, my dear. For God requires every one to do what good he can. And those who are able and refuse to do it, violate his great command, and by so doing are guilty of a great sin. I would never have thought it of you, Hattie, to shrink from your duty when it is yours to perform. You are very unlike your mother, and, I fear, not near so good a Christian."

"Papa, O, papa! Do not accuse me of being false to my vows because I fail to like a preacher. I connot help it, but if you persist, I will try to like him better. I will bo kind to him. And to please you, papa, I will do all in my power to make it pleasant for him though it be at a peril of self srcrifice. For I am sure he is no gentleman, and I am unsafe with him, but if you think he is all right, then he must be, for you, my dear father, would not think a thing that is wrong." Then casting an injured look at him that told him plainly that he had misjudged her, she returned to her room without the kiss she had sought. All night her dreams were troubled. She saw her mother frowning down upon her and heard her voice bidding her to stay away from the church and the new minister. And then she thought the minister stood beside her and all of a sudden he turned into a huge serpent, and coiling himself around her, fastened his fangs into her flesh. At another time she was walking through the garden of Eden, innocent Eve, and lifting her eyes beheld a great and tempting serpent whose eyes and face resembled that of the new minister, and whose tongue spoke to her and bade her sacrifice her virtue for the benefit of the church, and she had obeyed. What a frightful dream! She awoke trembling and panting and there was that peculiar feeling over her that she could not explain. She opened her mouth to call her papa but her tongue failed to give utterance. What was it? And when she felt the strange sensation leave her, she began to weep. O, what a horrible night she had spent! And while she wept, day dawned and the sun-beam came stealing through the window to kiss her tear-stained cheeks. At the same instant the breakfast bell went jingling through the hall and bade her arise. She sprang from the bed and hastily dressed herself in one of her choicest gowns, and with her hair streaming loosely behind her, hastened down the stairs. But as she neared the drawing room she heard voices on the inside. Thinking it rather early for a visitor, she tipped noiselessly to the door and peeped in. She fell back with an expression of horror, for there sat the new minister saying that he had come to take her driving and that his new rig was already at the gate.

"Tell her," says he, as Mr. Maxwell rose, "that I am here and wish to speak to her at once."

She did not wait to hear more, for fearing that her father would turn and see her at the door, she turned and ran away to her own room and, quicker than it takes to tell it, was in bed again. Her father overjoyed at the prospects of his daughter taking a drive with the new minister, did not wait to send a servant, but with the activity of a boy betook himself in search of her. In his hurry he actually forgot to knock at the door but pushed it open and rushed in. She was somewhat surprised to see her father come in person instead of sending a servant.

"Well, papa, how you frightened me! Are you tired waiting for me to come to breakfast?

"O, no, not that said he in breathless haste, but I come to tell you that Rev. Spikenard is down in the parlor and wishes to speak to you. Will you get up and come down at once?"

"No, I will not, papa, for I have had such frightftl dreams all night that I am sick and I have decided not to come down at all. Will you tell the cook to send my breakfast up to me?" He looked at his daughter with disappointment in his eyes but when he saw her pale face he did not doubt that she was sick and hastened down to inform the parson. That Reverend gentleman was very "'much disappointed, and Hattie from her window saw an angry look upon his face as he turned his horses from the gate. "She is fair," he thought, "and has turned her head against me. I understand it all. She suspected me from the very first, and I will tame her yet or my name is not Spikenard. She did me a favor if she had known it when she told me that she was engaged to be married within two months. For now I need not fear disgrace since she will marry before such can happen. I have set my head to make her submit to me and I have never failed since I have been in the ministry. Proud beauty though she is, her pride will bite the dust ere she has known me long. I will only wait until the revival begins and then I will play the double hand like most preachers do. For if women ever hope to live virtuous lives they must wait till all the preachers die. Therefore I trow that before a week has spent itself, this proud beauty will be in my power and probably in disgrace. What matters it to me? The ministry is the highest profession that man can claim and none but my victims would ever suspect me of stooping from such high callings to destroy the sacred virtue of woman."

Thus thinking, he betook himself home to prepare his sermons for the revival. Hardly an hour had spent itself after his departure from Maxwell-place when Hattie redressed herself and, in all of her charming beauty, sought her father in the library. He was reclining in his great arm-chair: and she beaming with smiles of child-hood days, passed over to his side and dropped down into his Jap and circling her arms about his neck, kissed him as was her wont to do when she was a child.

"Papa I am better now, she said, and I want to read to you as I did when I was a child, may I?" And as she spoke she rose and took a book from the. shelf.

"Why certainly, dear, I will be so glad to have you read, for you are so much like yon were in child-hood. What has changed you?" Hattie laughed and taking her seat upon the foot stool at his feet, her favorite resting place, she read loud and long and he listened with heart felt interest. At length she looked up to find her father fast asleep and did not awaken him but stole softly from the room to wander upon the brook. She had scarcely reached it when she came face to face with the parson. He raised his hat and begged that he be allowed to accompany her. She did not see how she could refuse and bit her lips , as she accepted. He treated her with extreme politeness. He made for her a swing and at one time in letting the "old'cat" die she had tried to jump from it and fell right into the minister's arms. He folded her a moment to his bosom and seeing a hot flush come to her face, he quickly released her and before she had time to speak and just as though she had been a mere child, took her hand in his and led her away on a chase after a passing butterfly. This rather amused her and she joined in the chase in high spirit, for it was her delight to play. And over the logs and by the brook she ran till the butterfly went across to the other side and then, sat down exhausted by the water's edge. The parson sat beside her and she had begun to think him a very jolly fellow after all. Thus thinking and being posessed with mischief. She dipped her dainty hands into the water and dashed it right into the minister's face and then she bursted into a fit of laughter as she watched him wiping it away.

"If you do that again," he said, "I will plant a kiss upon those pretty lips of yours." Her eyes flashed with anger and she turned defiantly towards him.

"I dare you," she said, and hardly had she spoken when he gathered her into his arms and showered a half dozen kisses upon her lips, and then before she had time to speak or even move he had found another butterfly to chase. His whole manner seemed so amusingly rediculous that she forgot her anger and bursted into a ripple of laughter.

"Well, Mr, Spikenard, you are the jolliest, funniest man I ever saw. Why I have been trying all day to get angry with you and have accomplished nothing as yet. Now I am going to stop trying and here is my hand and my friendship, take it. And she extended her hand towards him. He grasped it eagerly and said: "Well, I am glad that it is all over. " So now give me some token by which I may know that you are in earnest, for you are very changeable, you know."

"What token do you want?" she asked looking up in surprise. Is not my hand or my word enough?"

"But," said he, "listen." "If you will allow me to take back the kisses that I placed upon your lips, I will believe that you and I are friends and not before." She was thoughtful for a moment and then looking up into his face, asked: How will you take them back, they are gone, are they not?"

"O, no," he replied , "they are still upon your lips and I have but to place my lips upon yours and take them away one at a time, do you consent?"

"Take them," she said, and without knowing why, she allowed him to put one arm about her waist while he lifted her chin with his hand and planted kiss after kiss upon her lips, each time pausing to look down into her eyes as she looked up into his. Somehow a strange feeling had arisen in her breast and some unknown influence made her like the pastor even more than ever before. He offered her his arm and she took it, and together they tripped merrily on towards the house. The dinner bell was already ringing and Mr. Maxwell was standing in the doorway looking in the direction of the brook. A broad smile spread over his face when he saw Hattie and the new minister come in the yard together and each greatly interested in the other. Hattie was the first to speak.

"Well, papa I have brought Mr, Spikenard home to dine with me. I know that he must be hungry, for we have been chasing butterflies all the morning."

"Well I am sure you could not have pleased me more, my dear," said her father with a smile, "but come, I am so hungry that I am very nearly starved," Thus speaking, he took the parson by the arm and led him to the dining room while Hattie ran up stairs to arrange her toilet. Soon she returned and taking her place beside Mr. Syikenard, was the gayest at the table. "When dinner was over, Mr. Spikenard took his leave, but not before he obtained from Hattie a promise to go with him driving on tomorrow. Mr. Maxwell was glad to see such a pleasant turn of affairs and, as he thought, wisely kept his tongue. For had he spoken, as he should have done, he would have spoiled a bit of fun for the parson. The morrow came and Hattie had her drive. The parson was unusually pleasant and gallant. It was a double hand he was playing and he had to work with care. Hattie had ceased to suspect him now, but could she have known his deep laid plot or, better still, could she have had a mother to advise her, she would never have allowed him a second time to put his arm around her and give her the good-night kiss. The man who was playing into her confidence was but a serpent who was little by little getting her into his coil only at the last moment to fasten his deadly fangs into her heart and wreck her life forever. Fate was at last against her and there was no resisting it. Day after day found her in the minister's company, and no day passed that he did not try to plant a kiss upon those sacred lips—I say sacred because her virtue surpassed by far the average girls. She had never known the evils of this life and was child-like, pure and innocent. So innocent indeed that she did not perceive that she was being charmed by a handsome face which was luring her into ruin and disgrace. However she was a sensible girl, and too much kissing she disliked, so one evening when the parson offered to kiss her good night, she tore herself away from him and in an outburst of anger forbade him ever to call upon her again.

"You are no gentleman," she said, "or you would not impose on a lady in this indecent way. Therefore I forbid you to ever enter this gate again, and as for me I will never, no, never ride with you again. And, sir, I shall tell my papa of your conduct as soon as he comes home."

Then with an angry gesture she waved him toward the gate and turned and fled to her own room ,to hold communion with God. O, dear reader, would every girl dismiss, from her house, him who tried to kiss her against her will, many a home would be saved. For the young man who always expects the girls, with whom he associates, to kiss him, is certainly aspiring to the ministry and will reach that sacred profesion at the expense of your own good name. Beware, therefore! And be sure that none except the lover's lip approach the sacredness of your own, less the fate that befell this dear girl will also befall you. Let us follow her up the stairway to her own room; and there upon her knees she is praying.

"O, Father in heaven! I commit to thee all my weakness and ask for Strength. A new light begins to dawn upon me and I know that I have committed a grave error, an error near unto breaking the sacred vow I made to my mother. But thanks to thee I am yet safe.

May I ever, by thy grace, maintain my purity both in heart and mind. Help me, O Lord, to be true to him who loves me and would make me his wife. Help him also, that he may never love me less than now. Grant that I may not stoop to one single wrong and do it willingly and knowingly. Let thy Holy Spirit abide with me during the rest of my life. Give to us a glorious revival next week and hear me now, O, Lord, as I reconsecrate myself to thy cause, that I may render much service. I ask it all in the name of him who died on Calvary, Amen." She arose from her knees trembling and weeping. She had been earnest, and that prayer, in part, would be answered. She would never do a wrong deed and do it without putting forward her greatest powers to resist it. But human flesh is weak and she must not be blamed for what will enevitably happen in the future. Her lover will not love her less, nor will her God forsake her, but the fair name of Hattie Maxwell will soon be a thing of the past. Dear reader, unless your mind is as pure as mine as I write it, and unless you are in heartfelt sympathy with the heroine of this story, it is better that you read no farther, but close this book and put it aside forever; for you are unworthy.

O: would those wedding bells but ring, Their jubilent tongues proclaim Some news that would her lover bring And save his love from shame!

It is the next week and the revival has begun. Many eloquent sermons has been preached and many souls have been brought to Christ. Mr. Maxwell is called away to the great city on business and Hattie is singing in the church choir. How her voice rings out upon the stillness of the night! How her heart starts and throbs as her soul vibrates in harmony with the song she sings! She thinks alone of heaven and her eyes are raised upward: her soul is filled with emotion and her voice trembles iddescribably sweet and touching. Every soul in that house is happy save one. Even the church itself moves like a cradle rocked by an angel's gentle touch. Never was music sweeter. The singer felt as she never felt before. Her whole being trembled and her eyes lit up with a heavenly radiance as they turned upon the audience. Little did she dream that that feeling was to be felt no more: that song, no more be sung: that her life of innoeence was at an end and shame with his black mantle hovered o'er her like a pall. She stood upon the very brink of misery and despair ready to make the fatal plunge. For in that "holy audience sat a Judas who remembered the words of our Savior, when he said, "What thou doest, do quickly," and he arose and went and stood in the vestibule of the church. By the time the singer's song had ended, she was so filled with the thought of heaven that she slipped out into the silent night, and with her hands clasped across her breast, called to her mother in heaven and wept. At the same time another figure stole cautiously from the vestibule and followed her. Dear reader, you know who it was. It was the new minisaer, for he, it seemed, was destined to bring shame upon the purest girl on earth. His time had come. It was a holy hour inside the church and no one would think of going home for two or three hours. Thus he, red handed devil that he was, might accomplish his foul purpose. Like some great cunning serpent he creeps behind her, and when she stops beside her mother's grave to weep, he puts his arm about her and begs her come away.

"You are happy," he is saying, "and it is not good for you to wander here alone. Come with me and I will take you home."

Without a word she allows him to lead her through the church yard gate and into the woods beyond. She is not thinking of him— indeed she is unaware of his presence____for her thoughts are still on heaven and her mother. The arm that encircles her waist is unfelt. The hand that toys lightly with her breast pin is unnoticed. Nothing fills her mind but heaven, fair heaven. And when she is brought to a standstill in the very heart of the woods, she lifts her eyes to heaven and sighs, then turning her eyes upon him who still holds her in his arms, she gives a start and tries to release herself. Her mind in part is called back from the great white throne to her own personal safety. "Oh, release me! Pray release me! why should you of all others seek to ruin me, to destroy the happiness I have so long enjoyed, and you a minister ? Are you such a villian as to be wholy unmoved by the holy influence that has set every heart a beating with holy emotion tonight ? " Then she bursted into a flood of tears. She hid her face in her hands and tried to think it but a dream, for surely a minister of God's gospel would not leave his sacred desk right in the midst of a great revival to pursue a young woman to her ruin. But alas! it was too true, for even then did she feel his arms about her and his breath upon her cheeks. She is awake now to his every movement. She sees that they have wandered from the path-way into the dark and silent woodland and she conwers in absolute fear.

"O, pare me! ", she wails, " for mother's sake, spare me! " "O, for the love of God, the church, and all that is sacred upon earth, spare me!

Do not wring from me the only treasure woman can ever possess, her virtue." Then falling upon her knees she raised her hands in suplication to God. Her whole frame was one convulsive tremor. At any other time her anger would have been a sufficient weapon, but alas! fraying just under gone a spiritual blessing, that weapon failed to serve her true. And as she knelt and wept, he knelt beside her and in the most suasive manner pleaded that she submit her self to the ministry. And then he quoted numerous passages from the Bible and interpreted them in his own way. Of course no such things could be found in the bible, but Hattie did not know it, and therefore became interested in what he was saying. And as she listened, overtempted nature bursted its chains and she weakened beyond her self control. Her bosom heaved spasmodically and her breath came quick and short. She fell forward in his arms with the last faint murmur, " spare me!" and all was over. Ah! dear reader, the devil always has a scripture verse to quote to you when he would accomplish your ruin. Therefore young woman I would persuade you to read your Bible carefully and know all there is in it, so that when the evil tempter comes to give you a Bible lesson, tell him that he lies. Woe to him who would accept the devils interpretation of God's word. It was thus that the dear heroine of our story was tripped, and now that it was all over, she began, when it was too late, to realize her error and the shame that must inevitably follow. She felt that heaven was frowning down upon her. For even then could she hear foot-falls of a darkened future.

The arms of fate were around her. She could hear the cry of her own strangled concience: she felt her pure soul being driven from her.

The parson for a second time bent over her and caught her in his arms, but now with super-human strength she leaped to her feet and threw him from her. And then she sprang forward and like the wild fawn startled, fled through the black darkness, guided alone by providence, to her own door-step. There her strength deserted her and she fell unconcious upon the stone step. One would have thought her dead as she lay there a pale and motionless mass.

The moon now lifts its smiling countenance above the horrizon and the moonbeams chase away the darkness and light the old porchway with silent splendor. In the distance may be heard the roaring of the nignt express as it comes thundering up to the station near by. Then there is a shrill whistle and the great iron monster stops, panting and snorting like some wild beast brought to bay, and again leaps forward puffing its fury till lost in the distance beyond. Along the narrow pathway of the pines wends the belated passenger. His form is upright and his hair like flakes of snow. He stops short at the Maxwell gate and looking about him somewhat nervously, opens the gate, slowly enters and directs his steps towards the stately old edifice. At the steps he suddenly stops and then more cautiously approaches a seemingly lifelsss form and bends over it. In a moment more he utters a hoarse cry and snatching it up in his arms, gave such a violent pull at the door bell that all of the servants were aroused at once and even the old house cat stretched himself and stared in amazement. "It is the master's ring," said the servants one to another, "but hwy so loud?" Can it be that he is sick or angered because we slept?" No one stopped to answer these questions, but actually fell over each other in trying to reach the door. As the door flew open, Mr. Maxwell entered bearing his precious burden.

"Come quick, Mrs. Payne," said he, addressing himself to the house-keeper. "Hattie has met with an accident of some kind and requires your immediate attenton." Good Mrs. Payne stepped forward and looked into the stil, pale and apparently lifeless face and bursted into tears.

"Poor dear!" "bring her up to her own room and I will try to arouse her. Harry, you go fot he doctor and hurry please."

Then she turned and led the way upstairs. Mr. Maxwell following with his precious burden." Put her down upon the bed, Mr Maxwell, and leave her in my care, she still lives. "Then the good little woman began to busy herself in loosing the clothes and administering restoratives. Mr. Maxwell stood by deeply concerned and ever watching to see his child's eyes open. Fully an hour passed ere the heavy lashes raised and anxious eyes looked up into the face of the father and seemed to speak, and then they closed again. Just then the doctor entered and dismissed all from the room save Mrs. Payne. And then he began at once to examine his patient. In a few minutos he turned to Mrs. Payne and said: "She suffers from mental trouble. There is a great strain upon her concience so great that it has shocked her nervous system." A girl of her age should be watched very carefully. There is nothing that I can do for her save give her something to make her sleep soundly so that her mind may be relieved of its worry. And you, madam, need only watch a few hours, and if she sleeps well, let her alone until morning. Goodnight!" And he was gone. Good Mrs. Payne left her charge long enough to run down and tell Mr. Maxwell that he need not worry, that his child would soon be all right, and if his services were needed she would call him.

"You may go to bed until morning," she said, "and then I think your daughter will have somethsng to tell you, but you must not worry about It tonight."

Then the good little woman returned to the upper room and took her seat like a guardian angel by the girl's bed-side. Long and patiently did she watch until her own tired eyes, worn out with watching, closed in sleep. When she opened her eyes Hattie was' sitting up in bed crying as though her heart would break. In a moment Mrs. Payne was at her side with her arms around her.

"What is the matter dear? Will you please tell me?"

Hattie raised her eyes and looked long and steadily at the little house keeper and then putting her arms around her neck, laid her head upon her motherly bosom and wept as bitterly as woman ever wept.

"O, Mrs. Payne! I have committed a grave error. If I tell you, will you help me? will you keep my secret?"

"Yes dear, you may trust me with whatever secret you hold, and I will help you. I have always hoped that you would confide in me, for I can give you a mother's advice."

Then Hattie related all that had happened the night before. Mrs. Payne listened, and as she listened, tears streamed down her cheeks. She tightened her arms about the girl and they both wept bitterly. "I will befriend you darling. I have always known that that man was a scamp and I loathed him worse than I do a serpent. I don't know what your papa was thinking about to have himalways poking around here. Why the very first day he came, I heard you tell Mr. Maxwell in the library that you didn't want to have any thing to do with him, and I wish you could have had your way about it. It is very unfortunate for you that such a thing should happen at this particular time, for now it will be impossible to honorably escape disgrace and you had as well prepare for it. You must tell your papa and then we will manage to go abroad and stay until all is over. But what will you do about Mr. Jack? You know that it is just one month to the wedding day. I am sorry that you ever postponed the wedding, for I have always heard that it boded no good to lovers. And he loved you so, my dear. I know that his poor heart will be broken when he comes and findsthat you have flown. Of course we must keep it all a secret from him and Kittie, for they would never forgive you. And since he believed you so pure, it would never do to have him change his opinion of you. We must find some excuse that will be plausible enough to quiet him for a while at least. What do you say to that?"

"Well, said Hattie, after a pause, I have decided to go away, but not before I tell Jack everything. He has been true to me and loved me devotedly. For this reason, I will not keep so grave a matter from him. Though he may curse me for it yet, will I tell him, and then I can die happy at knowing that I have not lived a deceptive life." Mrs. Payne stared at her in wonder.

"You are not going to tell your expected husband that you have been betrayed by another man!" "Hattie, you ae crazy."

"No, I am not, said she, for if he has loved me, he will thank me for saving him from marrying a girl unworthy of him."

"Do as you like, said Mrs. Payne, but that seems to me to be th most foolish thing I have ever heard. You are surely crazy."

"Well, we differ, said Hattie for I think it the right thing to do. No girl ought to keep grave secrets from the lover. In fact each should know the life of the other as if it were an open book. The life of many a girl has been wrecked because she failed to tell her lover some hidden secret of her life and left it for him to discover. No man will or ought ' to forgive the girl who has posed herself as an angel and he afterwards finds her to have been a devil from the beginning. Let the girl make her confession of unworthiness and if he is a true lover he will thank her for it, and though he may put her from him, yet in his heart will he love her. Better it is to lose a lover and retain his love than it is to gain the lover and afterwards lose his love. The latter must be the inevitable outcome in every case of deception. Now I have no hope of ever marrying Jack, nor would I marry him if he insisted on my doing so. For I am unworthy of his love; but I will tell him all, yes, every word and then we will part forever,"

"Well my dear," said Mrs. Payne, "I will not try topersuade you not to do it. l can only promise you this, that what ever you do or wherever you go I will not desert you. No, I will nurse you through your sickness and will be a mother to you as long as you will let me. And now let us go down that you may talk with your papa. I pray that he may not be hard upon you, for it was his fault that this calamity has fallen you."

"Hush!" said Hattie, "Do not blame my poor old father. He thought he was doing what was right. Rather blame me for going against the dictates of my own conscience, for conscience is a girl's best guide and when she violates it, if is her greatest sin." They were now at the door of the library and good Mrs. Payne left her to go in alone, for Mr. Maxwell was already there. Hattie pushed open the door and with an expression of mingled fear and anguish, crossed the room and fell at her father's feet.

"O, papa, dear papa! forgive me! I am no longer worthy to be called your daughter. I have brought disgrace upon your household. I have allowed the minister whom I hated to accomplish my ruin. Yea, even while the holy spirit was upon me last night, I listened to his tempting words and yielded. Do what thou wilst with me, papa. Kill me or drive me from you, I dserve it; but for mother's sake forgive me."

Dear reader, you can imagine the expression that played upon the father's face as he listened, and when she had ceased speaking, the whole horrible truth having dawned upon him, his face farily lit up with rage. He stretched forth one hand and threw her from him.

"You shall leave this house this instance," said he rising. "You have had no respect for your mother's teachings, no respect for my parental goodness, and no respect for yourself. You have done what no Maxwell ever did. Curse you! you have no right to live."

"Kill me papa! Kill me!" she wailed, and let me go to join my mother. She will forgive me, though I do not deserve it."

This pitiful plea touched the heart of the father in spite of his stern nature.

"No I will not kill you," he said, "but I will kill Spikenard." And he turned to the desk and took therefrom a revolver and counted the rounds in it and shoved it into his pocket. Then he stopped short and looked at Hattiee.

"A new Idea dawns upon me," he said. "It is soon time for the weddiug and if we write Jack to come home earlier we can have the wedding consumated and save your good name and no one will be the wiser."

She sprang to her feet, indignant at the idea. "No, never I" she said, I arn worthless now, and I know it, and l will never be so mean as to thrust myself upon an innocent man. I have made up my mind to tell Jack all as soon as he comes and then let him discard me forever, for I am unworthy of him." Mr. Maxwell was indignant and thought he meant to strangle her as he seized her by the throat."

You worthless imp! And you would bring disgrace into a pure home on account of your love for a man? You are as unlike your mother as the devil is like an angel, and I believe you got most of your qualities from the devil, for I am sure you did not inherit them from me. However, then I will make that chap Spikenard marry you and I will do it this day. What do you think of that?"

"As you like, papa," "though I hate that man and hate the idea of giving . Jack more pain by seeing me the wife of another. But if it will save our home from being disgraced, I will do it, but not before I have seen Jack and told him all. Then if you wish it, I shall marry and leave the country forever.

"No!" said the irate father, "you will marry this day. And in one hour I will return and I shall bring with me that parson or I will bring his head." And he left the house and strode across the pine-land toward the station. In his mind there was nothing but marriage or the death of the parson. As he neared the station the express came thundering up to the plat form. He stopped a moment to look at the passengers. And as he watched them step upon the platform his attention was attracted toward a rather proud looking woman and a hall dozen children which surrounded her. He heard her say: "Go, Maud, and ask the old gentleman," and he turned and approached her.

"Will you show me the way to the parsonage?" she asked.

"It is just over the hill," he answered, "and if you take the woodland path you will reach it in less than ten minutes. "

"But pardon me," he continued, "are you a relative of the parson? I see that the children seem to favor him." "No," came the response, "I am his wife and these his children."

His heart sank within him. There was nothing for him to do but to return home and vent his fury upon Hattie. "Curse him!" he muttered as he walked homeward, he is the dirtiest devil I ever saw. He knew that he was married and had the audacity to intrude into a pure home and ruin it. I will wait until his wife goes home and then I will empty the contents of this revolver into his carcass and leave him to fill a scoundrel's grave." And he fingered at his revolver nervously. Indeed it would not have been well for the parson had he met his irate deacon at that time. When he reached home he found Hattie sitting in the window of the library looking like a marble statute, oblivious of all around her.

"Well," said he abruptly, addressing her in a tone that was furious in itself, "that scamp is married and has a house full of children, for I saw them myself. Hattie never looked up. "And now that you are too good to marry Jack, you may pack your trunk and leave, for I loath to look at you."

Without a word, she arose and ascended the stairs. In two hours she appeared at the door of the library with traveling bag in hand, And good Mrs. Payne stood beside her. "Good-bye,,papa!" she said, bursting into tears. "Begone with your good-bye's and take them with you!" he thundered and shut the door in her face. Then he proceeded to pace back and forth across the library floor while the two women moyed slowly down the stone steps and through the gate beyond. At the gate the younger of the two stopped and looked back at the home she was leaving behind her and wept so bitterly that the elder lady tried to take her back into the house.

"No, I will not go back," she said. "It is not my home now. I have disgraced it and am driven from it. I long to go to my mother. She will share her home in heaven with me." And she turned away toward the brook. And when she had reached the spot where Jack had made her his promised bride, she knelt and prayed long and earnestly to God. Then rising she took Mrs. Payne by the arm, and pulling her veil low over her face hurried on toward the station; for it was near time for the up express. At the post she stopped long enough to drop a letter to Jack and Kittie giving them her address in a Northern city and requesting them to come at once to see her before going home. The express was now thundering up to the station and the two women scarcely had time to gain their seats ere the iron monster darted forward at a furious rate, putting distance between it and the little station. Hattie looked from the window until the last glimpse of home disappeared and then put her head upon the bosom of dear Mrs. Payne and fell asleep, And onward did this wild horse plunge, And sparkled fury 'neath its tread, Two thousand miles with iron feet, It beat the iron railings red.

It snorted forth its breath of steam.

And stopped a hundred times and shied, Then adding fury to its speed, Panted out its breath and died.

It was the eve before Christmas and the gray December clouds, that all day long has hung like a pall over the great Northern city, now precipitate themselves into a mighty snow storm. The winds run wild in their mad rampage and the snow-flakes fall thick and fast upon the pavements of the silent streets. In an upper room of a double-tenement, two women sit by a glowing fire. The one, an elderly lady of forty with a pleasant face and thoughtful expression, sits bolt upright holding one hand to the fire as if she has just come in from the cold without. The other, a girl of seventeen, sits upon the hearth-rug with her head in the other's lap. She has a pale sweet face, and it surrounded by a mass of flaxen hair that falls loosely over her shoulders gives her the appearance more of a Greecian goddess than of an American maiden. As she sits there listless as it seems, one would think her oblivious of the storm without; but not so. For she is comparing the force of that gusty storm without to the fierce howling tempest rageing within her own soul. This was to have been her wedding night, but alas l those wedding bells would never ring, for love had been betrayed. What would the people think at home when they learned for the second time that there was to be no wedding? Where was he this stormy night? Had he heard the terrible news and casted her aside without even a look of love? O, heaven would he never come! Had she kept herself pure, Santa-Clause might have brought to her a husband instead of this life of misery. But alas! she could but hope for naught. She had sown the first seed of corruption and could but hope to reap an abundant harvest of misery. Oh what a tempest was rageing within that troubled soul! Would Jack but come and tell her that he forgave her? what a burden would be lifted from her troubled consciencel At last overcome by the burden of her own thoughts she began to weep.

"Mrs. Payne!"

"What is it dear?"

"Do you think he will come?"

"Who will come, my dear?"

"O, you know whom. I mean Jack. You know that tonight was our wedding night, but now that cannot be, do you suppose he will come to see me?"

"l am sure I can't say, my dear, but let us hope anyway; and maybe Santa Clause will bring him over and put him in your stocking tonight."

"O, I would be so happy! said the young woman without seeming to notice the smile upon the lips of her chaperone; And it seems no good to pray, for my heavenly Father delayeth the blessing I have asked of him, I am so unworthy."

"My dear," said good Mrs. Payne; "you must mot despair, for it is when life seems darkest that the Savior bursts into the troubled heart and like the rising sun disperses Clouds and shadows and plants therein the light of eternal joy." And so it was as the good lady said, for even then a cab was flying at a furious rate through the blinding snow. And as it drew up in front of the double-tenement, two forms stepped therefrom and ran up the steps to the front' door while the cab turned away and disappeared in the way it came. In a moment there was such a violent pull at the door hell that Mrs. Payne half leaped from her seat.

"I wonder who has dared to brave the tempest this awful night!" exclaimed she looking at the girl at her feet.

"No one but Santa Clause I am sure," answered that young lady with a sickening smile. And both strained their ears' to listen as the land lady went through the hall to open the door.

"Is Miss Hattie Maxwell here?" asked a feminine voice.

"Hattie Maxwell!" echoed the masculine voice of the land lady.

"There is a Hattie Payne upstairs."

"Well, we will see her" said the lady. And the two were ushered through the hall and up the stairs.

"Come in," said Mrs. Payne as the land lady knocked at her door, and the door flew open. Two persons entered. "Jack!" exclaimed Hattie, and rising advanced a step and then dropped upon the sofa near by. Jack advanced to catch her in his arms, but she waved him back.

"Don't touch me, please don't," she almost wailed and then bursted into tears.

"Hattie, O, Hattie, darling! what is the matter?" asked Kittie throwing off her cloak and putting her arms about the weeping girl. "Do tell me what has happened. Do you see Jack standing there like a post? You have mystified him. Do tell him dear! tell him all your sorrow! Mrs. Payne, will you tell me what has happened to our darling? Come, tell us quickly, for we* are growing impatient." And as Kittie spoke she took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes, for she was weeping bitterly. She felt certain that some great calamity had befallen Hattie to make her weep so. And as for Jack, he had apparently turned to stone and stood there gazing at his weeping lover without a motion or a sound.

"Mr. Jack, please pull off your cloak and warm yourself," said Mrs. Payne, "and Hattie will tell you every thing by and by." And then she whirled a sofa to the fire and began to divest him of his cloak without asking his consent and then she forced him down upon the sofa with a command for him to sit there, just as though he was but a child and she his mother. He obeyed and Kittie also rose and came to the fire, for she was cold. When they had had sufficient time to warm. Hattie arose and came and knelt at Jack's feet and locked her arms across his knees.

"O, Jack! look down into my eyes just one look of love and then prepare bo hear the worse. I was once worthy of you, Jack, and I meant to be true bo you. My soul is still true, but I am no longer worthy of your love. I know that you have loved me and once upon your knees you plead at my feet for just one word of love. O, Jack! it is my turn now. I am wretched, indeed I am. My life has been wrecked and I am at fault. For I should never have postponed our wedding. Alas! it can never be now. No, never, for it is a terrible confession that t must make to you and then we will say farewell, for you will loath me then, Jack. Yea, you will look down upon me with bitterest contempt. You will cast me from you and leave me to pine and die. But I shall die happy, knowing that I have not deceived you. I was pure when you first met me, but, alas! I am pure no longer. My purity all has been stolen since then and I know not where I can have it restored except at Christ's blood bought mercy seat. He will forgive me, Jack, though you may not. You can not understand the scope of my guilt until I have explained it fully. Therefore listen. On the very day that you left, a minister came to our house. He was young and handsome, yea, almost your rival, Jack. And his deep and piercing eyes were lit up with what many a girl would have mistaken for love, but I knew it was but the fires of hell that lighted up those crystal orbs, and I shrank from him, I feared him, yea, I hated him; but he was forced upon me by my own father who thought that I ought to treat the ministry with all the courtesy due it. I followed his advice rather than displease him, yet I gave him warning that the ministry could not be trusted. And it turned out as I feared, Jack. At a time when I was least suspicious he took advantage of my weaker nature and robbed me of all that I have ever held dear, my virtue.

Papa drove me from his house because I would not; send for you and marry you to shield myself and family from disgrace. Now, dear, I could not do that. I am not deceptive in my nature though I may be weak. I knew that I could decieve you but that would be beneath the dignity of a Christian. I did what I thought was best and more god-like, I sent for you to come here that I might tell you everything. Now that I have told you, I can only beg that you will be merciful to me. Tell me that you forgive me, that you have been true to me while you were away and try to forget that you have been wronged by the girl you loved. Speak, Jack, and say that you forgive me and then let us part, yea, part forever." And as she spoke her sad eyes looked up into his eyes and he forgave her. He caught her up into his arms and kissed her on both of her cheeks.

"O, my precious darling," said he, "you are the most treasured of all earthly treasures. God has made but one woman like you and this one shall be mine. Yea, within the hour, darling, I shall send for the parson and you shall be my bride and I will save you from shame. No disgrace shall come upon you while I can protect you by my love and my name." And he folded her to his heart and bade her lift her eyes to his. She raised her eyes and looked steadily into his. And as she rested thus, her head upon his shoulder and her soft flaxen hair falling upon the lapel of his coat, she looked like a fresh young flower of heaven, plucked by God's own hand and pinioned there. She was so happy that her whole soul seemed to be in her eyes. She looked at him long and then drooping her eyes said. "No, it can not be, Jack. I can not marry you. I am so unworthy, and can never think of taking disgrace into your home. No, never, I will not consent; but I am so happy to know that you still love me. Therefore as the day is breaking, let us make haste and part; but make me this promise, love, that if we never meet again, you will on next Christmas morning search out my grave and place upon it a bunch of roses plucked from your own yard. Do you promise?"

Jack was silent, but after looking down into those beseeching eyes, he could not refuse, and promised. Then she waved him to the door, for the day was breaking. He did not go however, until he had arranged secretly with Mrs. Payne to pay over into her keeping, an enormous sum of money to be used by her for Hattie's welfare, should it be needed. And then giving her his address that he might be notified of any misfortune that might befall, he departed to roam upon the continent while Kittle his sister returned to her home.

No sooner had the people in Maxwell vicinity heard that the wedding' had been postponed, that Jack had not returhed, and Hattie had gone abroad, than they began to gossip. They felt sure that Jack had played the part of deceiver and Hattie had left home to hide her shame. gossip ran wild. And the minister taking advantage of an evil hour, ventured to say that Hattie had told him that her lover had brought about her ruin and then deserted her. These words were caught up on the tongue of the country people and ere Mr. Maxwell knew of it, his home had been slandered, his daughter expelled from the church and he himself summoned before a council to answer a charge of having tried to slander the ministry. The news fairly took the breath from poor Mr. Maxwell. He had had trouble enough already on account of this preacher, but to have his home and himself and the whole of the Mc Alister family slandered by this villian was more than he could bear. No, he would not stand it, he would tear out the villian's heart and cast it to the dogs. Aud then fairly overflowing with rage he grasped a revolver and set out for the parsonage. Had the parson been at home there would have been a dead dog in that vicinity and that dog would have been the parson.

However, it was too bad, he was not there and the enraged father had to return without having accomplished any good for himself or for his God. He returned slowly to his home wondering what might be done to avenge himself upon the parson. Finally he struck upon a plan. He would not go so far as to commit murder but would wait till the first night in January when the quarterly conference would be convened and then he would prefer a charge against the parson and have him removed: Now since what had been done could not be undone, this view of the matter seemed to be most plausible. However it was a mistake. One can not hope to obtain redress from the devil by applying at "Devil's Headquarters" for it. For. even while Mr. Maxwell was deciding upon a more moderate course of proceedure, the minister was in conference with the presiding eider. He was confessing his guilt on an elaborate scale while the presiding eider listened with eyes wide open. When he had finished the presiding eider said; "Well, my brother, and you are in a bad fix aren't you?" "Indeed," answered the parson, "and I have come to you for advice. Now I know that in our sacred profession, we have sworn to ruin as many women of our congregation as is possible within a given time, but I have not as yet made much of a headway and still I caught myself in a trap. For I have ruined the daughter of one of the most influential men of our whole community. He is the leading deacon of our church and his daughter was the organist of the church before this happened. Since then she has not attended the church. I know it was not right to destroy one like her, so young, so pure, so beautiful: yet to have spared her would have been out of harmony with our profession. Therefore for the devil's sake I dealt the blow and have flown to you for refuge. Can you help me?"

"I think so," replied the elder. "Now answer a few questions for me." "Had the young lady a lover?"

"Yes."

"Is he at home or abroad?"

"He is at the sea-side, or perhaps across -the ocean."

"Was there to be a wedding soon?"

"Yes this month."

"Why did it not occur?"

"The father expelled her from home and she is many miles away.."

"Did the lover hear of this?"

"No, he was only written to come, that the wedding had been postponed."

"Was he also a member of your church?" "Yes."

"Ah! then, I have it. Now listen. All you will have to do is to make out a charge against this lover and his sweet heart and expel them both from the church, and then file a double charge against deacon Maxwell, one for having shielded his daughter in corrupt practices, and the other for having tried to slander the ministry. After which, proceed to remove him from the deacon's bench and finally expel him from the church, and then your way is clear. Do you see?"

"Yes, yes!" exclaimed the parson, his face lighted up with joy. I would not have thought of that. However I will do it. The conference is to convene within a few nights and that will be my chance. But, by the way, I think it would be better to hold that conference early in the evening and have it over before night so that if there should be a quarrel I can take the night train and leave that I may save my scalp."

"I see," said the elder, "I see."

And so they shook hands and parted, the one to think of his quarterly conference, the other to write out his charge against his deacon.

It is a glorious new year and the Southern winds seem to whistle a new song as they scamper through forest and mead. The South bound express, once the fierce and half frozen monster of the North, now sniffs the Southern breeze and leaps forward in frolicsome delight Swinging itself around a great curve and snorting greetings to the little station beyond. It stops but a minute and then it is gone. A pretty little woman had stepped out upon the platform and after bowing smilingly to all who stood near, for they all knew her, she walked hastily away along the path leading by the church, How glad she was to be back at home, and yet the close observer might have noticed an expression of sadness flit across her face as she thought of home. Suddenly she stopped and looked towards the church. She could not understand the meaning of such large gatherings at this season of the year, for the church seemed packed from the door to the pulpit. She went in and as she walked down the aisle with her traveling bag in hand, all the congregation turned and looked at her. The parson was speaking and she sat down to listen. In eloquent tones he was denouncing Jack as the destroyer of Hattie, and Mr. Maxwell, an accomplice in the ruin of his own daughter. This startling announcement so unnerved Mr. Maxwell that he lost all the strength ho once posessed and bursted into tears. But Kittle leaped to her feet and with a fierce look upon her face, exclaimed: "It is a lie! A dirty designing lie! You, sir, are guilty of all this you have so eloquently accredited to others. You are a dirty serpent and [ appeal to the members of this church to put their heels, every one, upon your head and mash it into a million atoms. Yea, I appeal to the presiding elder in the name of God---------" She was not allowed to finish for the presiding elder ordered her put out of the house as disturbing the proceedure of the conference. Two rough deacons caught her by the arms and almost dragged her to the door and pushed her out, while a third bearing her traveling bag, threw it out behind her. She was so indignant when she found herself on the outside that she did not stop to pick up her traveling bag but fled across the woodland as fast as her feet could carry her. The servants at home were surprised to see their young mistress return and ran to meet her but she only pushed them aside and passing her mother without even looking at her, she passed up the stairs to Jack's room and loaded two revolvers and left the house on a run towards the church. The mother screamed after her but of no avail. At the church the parson was just concluding his speech when crack! crack! crack! was heard the reports of a revolver in quick succession. All looked up and when they saw Kittie with two revolvers in her hand they knew that she was a dead shot and every soul in that church sought refuge beneath the benches, each shot had struck the parson, but glancing had left only a furrow along his cranium. He lost no time in leaping through the window and betaking himself to the woods. But as he fled the leaden messengers were in his wake. And had there been any lice on that cranium they would have trembled and gone to shelter, for red hot balls danced a fandango upon that worthless scalp. Unfortunately the balls all glanced and the parson escaped with a bleeding head. That ended the conference for that day. No one dared arrest Kittie, for now the fact was dawning upon them all that the minister was a scamp and they were ready to believe what Kittie had said, that the parson was guilty of the very crime that he had tried to put upon another. Every one in that vicinity knew that Kittie was known for her virtue and truthfulness and no one would dare believe even the parson if she said that he lied. So Jack and the Mc Alister home were saved from disgrace by the grit of a woman. She could have just as easily saved Hattie if she had dared do it. But she would not lie not even for a friend, and when the neighbors crowded about her to question her about the Maxwells she wisely refused to talk. And soon the scandal was forgotten. The parson stayed well out of the way until Kittie went abroad and then returned' to his pulpit. Mr. Maxwell had quit the church and sternly refused to be called a good sheep while the devil was his shepherd. However the parson went on with his preaching and paid but little attention to his opposers. Before the spring had passed he had ruined more than a dozen girls and at the May conference had been ordained elder and sent back over the same circuit.

And with cigar and the bottle, In Jehovah's holy name, He went among our women To scatter seeds of shame.

It was on Christmas morning when Jack left Hattie and now it is October and not one letter has been received. Twice has he been back to the double-tenement and twice has he been told that she had gone away. Much he has wandered and in many lands, but no trace of the one he sought. At last he gives up the search, and stopping at a Southern hotel decides to spend the autumn there, and return home about Christmas. It is upon the veranda of this hotel that he has taken his seat this October's eve. And back to his mind comes rushing the thought of his lost love one. Ah dear reader! the heart awakened to love will love always, and when man has once loved woman, he will love her through eternity. Though at times it may seem that love's bright fires are smothered; yet hidden, remains a spark that the first breezy atmosphere may rekindle, and all of a sudden you will see the fires you once thought were smothered leap into a flame. So it was with Jack. He could fancy that he saw the fair head of his darling resting upon his shoulder and a pair of love-lit eyes looking up into his. He fancied that his arm encircled her. And bo great was this imagination that he reached put and grasped the hack of his chair. just then his reverie was disturbed by a shake at his collar. He started up and then dropped back smiling into his seat.

"And it is you; eh Dick?"- "I thought that a cyclone had me. Come and sit down, old boy and let us have a chat."

Dick Mannings threw himself into an old rocker and sat facing Jack. He was a hand-some youth and had been from boy-hood a friend companion of Jack. He had been at the hotel only a few days, and in that brief time had discovered that Jack had some very serious feflections at times—so very serious that he had decided to ask him what it was. Therefore he lost no time in taking advantage of a favorable opportunity. He had scarcely taken his seat when he turned himself about and looking Jack square in the face he said: "Well, my friend, I have for some time been observing you here of late and have decided that you have thoughts of a very serious nature at times and have decided to ask you to tell me what it is that vex you. Now I am all ears and promise to listen without disturbing you until you are through. What do you say?"

"Well, Dick," said Jack smiling, "I suppose it is well to tell you why I am sad at times. One reason is because that I have lost a lover which of course is enough to make any man sad. The other is, that I am seriously longing to enter the ministry and preach God's word." At the last declaration Dick started up. He could riot have been more surprised had he been struck by. a dynamite.

"You think of preaching? Why, I have always heard that you hated ministers worse than you hated snakes. And why such sudden change?"

"Well, Dick it is like this. I have seen so much of the ministry and have found it so very corrupt that I am convinced that it would please God to renovate the pulpits and rid them of a vast multitude of corrupt scoundrels. One can scarcely fiind a preacher now adays who has not ruined some young woman, and what is worse, a woman of his congregation. Now it must be a nervy business for a man to stand up and preach a moral sermon to his congregation when he sees sitting right before him the woman he has ruined. And yet many of the modern preachers do. They indeed have more nerve than the devil. You very seldom see a preacher but that you see a cigar in his mouth and a bottle in his pocket. And as filthy as the slop cans of hell, he goes into God's holy sanctuary to besmear it with foul tobacco spit. And when the service is ended he takes another man's wife and disappears in the gloaming. Indeed when I was west in texas, I knew a minister who left his own wife and took a young woman and eloped with her to some distant state, After he had stayed away two years he returned and took another. For which act he was ordained presiding elder. So you see, Dick, the pulpit is badly corrupted and the man who undertakes to cleans it will have a double job. Now let me tell you of a preacher down in Tennessee. Why he just uprooted virtue wherever he found it and for his valor he was made elder. Soon he grew worse and was promoted to the office of chief commissioner of the state, and finally excelling all others in deviltry he was ordained bishop, arch devil over God's holy flock. What a shame l! Also in my wandering I have visited the beautiful southern city, Memphis, and found there many an immoral scamp who dressed in clergical dress and called himself a preacher, while at the same time he was guilty of despoiling some one of her virtue. One in particular had been married four times. The first wife he left because he cared not to be bothered with children, the second because she was sickly, the third because she asked him to come home at night, and the fourth because she asked for money. And now his whole feminine congregation make up his matrimonial field and two thirds of the little ones of his Sunday Sohool might justly call him papa. O, Richard, you can see how much the pulpit has been corrupted and how much I am needed to bring about the desired reformation."

"Yes," replied Dick, "I now understand your motives and heartily approve of them.

For it does seem that the devil has entered God's garden and planted a nefarious sin flower there. the lovely little violet, an emblem of the pulpit's purity, is hidden by the multifarious leafage and fruitage of this great plant whose odor renders obnoxious the church's atmosphere, and whose roots dip downward to the lowest depths of hell. Indeed the progress of the church is but a repetition of Israel's march to the Promised land. For now we are marching along the valley of Arabah and we are scorched by the heat of a burning desert of sand and by the fires of a blazing sun. We seek shelter within the church that we may quench our spiritual thirst, but alas! it is but a wilderness of serpents and the deadly fangs of the ministers are within our flesh and we die. Oh! would some young man, a veritable Moses be brought forward to rear up for us the mangled body; of a suffering Savior that we might look up and be healed! You are the man, Jack, if you are thus inspired. And may the blessing of an all-forgiving God be upon you. Now tell me of the other affair that troubles you. I think you said, that you had lost a lover, did you not?"

"Ÿes," said "Jack, "and to make a long story short, I will tell you in a few words. It was like this. I went home one day last autumn and while there, met and loved a Miss Maxwell. She was all a man could desire, and was, as l thought, the sweetest and purest girl on earth. We became engaged, the wedding was delayed and I went abroad. Then a young minister came upon the scene and wrung from her her virtue. She sent for me and confessed her guilt and broke our engagement. I forgave her because I loved her and because I felt sure that the girl that was frank enough to acknowledge to her lover that she had done an immoral deed, would in the future be pure enough to be his wife. In every case this ought to hold good and lovers should wholly confide in each other. No man's concience should be too black to lay bare before the girl he loves, and the same holds good with her. It is decidedly better to know the girl you are going to marry than to marry believing her a saint, only afterwards to discover that she is a devil. So I begged this girl to marry me, but she would not, claiming that it was not right and that she was unworthy of me. In that very act she made herself my superior. However she escaped me and I can find no trace of her. When we parted she made me make a promise that on next Christmas day I would seek out her grave and scatter flowers upon it. This is the secret of some of my gloomy expressions." And when he had said this, he threw himself back into his chair with an air of absolute despair. Richard Mannings seized his hand and looking him straight into the face said: "Old boy, you are made of stern stuff. You are worth your weignt in gold. Would that I were like you ! For surely God has much good in store for you. I can but urge you to enter his vineyard an earnest worker and in the day of harvest reap the promised reward. " Then at the sound of the supper bell the two men arose and arm in arm they disappeared through the door of the old hotel to sup the delicacies of a sunny south.

It was a dark and stormy August night. And the storm burdened clouds frowned in terrible fury down upon the sea-side town. Zephyr's firey serpents leaped forth and licking out their firey tongues left a zigzag path of flames upon the frowning night. Theu came the deluge and the storm king's furious bugle's blast sends a thrill through the hearts of all who hear it. The sea trembles and her swelling bosom heaves skyward till it touches the clouds then relapse with a feerful echo of her great heart's beat. All the night long the tempest rages. Black darkness hovereth like a pall over all the houses of the town save one. And from that one cometh a faint gleam of lamp-light. It is the chamber of the sick. Within a beautiful girl lies sick. By her bed side sits an elderly lady with a sad familiar face. It is the face of dear Mrs. Payne and the girl is no other than Hattie Maxwell. Upon the bed beside the girl and half hidden by the downy pillows is a beautiful girl child. It resembles the girl beside it, and one could not mistake that pale young woman as being other than the mother of it. At its birth she had fallen into fever and lost consciousness and it seemed that she would die. Nearly a week had passed and the doctor said as he left that evening that if she lived through the night, she would grow stronger on tomorrow. Would she live? "O, God! will the day ever dawn for her?" And the dear little woman who watched by the bedside, knelt and prayed. It seemed that God was wait-to answer her prayer for scarcely had she said "Amen!" when the young woman moved and her heavy lashes opened and a pair of feverish but beautiful eyes looked right into those of Mrs. Payne. The good little woman was too full of joy to speak and so sat still and watched. In a few moments the sick girl spoke.

"Mrs. Payne!" "What is it dear?"

"Will yon please give me something to eat? I am so hungry."

"You shall have it darling." And the good little woman went into the kitchen and took from the stove where she had left it boiling, some chicken broth and poured it into a bowl and took it to the bed side of thé sick girl, She sat, by the bed and watched and was surprised to see a sick person eat so heartily.

"I am glad to see you eat dear, Will you have some more?"

"No, I thank you," answered the sick woman greatly strengthened. "I simply want to sit here awhile and listen to the storm that is rageing on the outside. I like to hear the winds and thunder. It is such rest to me, for fair weather and star-light nights are two full of love and romance and have therefore become monotonous to me.

I think of love all the time when it is fair, and therefore it is pleasant to have clouds and rain and thunder to call one's thoughts back from the world of love to the world around us. O, wasn't that flash of lightening sublime? And the thunder, listen ! It fairly makes my bed tremble. How. I wish the clouds, would stoop and take me up from earth, forever to be hidden, from the face of man." And then her eyes turned upon the babe at her side and she sank back upon the pillow and began to weep, O, such bitter tears! It would take a pen more gifted than mine to describe her inward feelings. Dear reader if ever you are tempted to do as this girl has done think of her woes and compare them with her precious life of happiness and forever forbear to eat of the forbidden fruit. Long did she weep and at last fell asleep. Mrs. Payne now felt that she could safely take some rest and accordingly went to bed. the poor rest-broken woman slept till late in the day and when she awoke she found the girl awake and turned with her face towards the sea.

"How are you this morning dear? Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, much better," she answered, "and it is so pleasant to be here and look out upon the sea. I have been wake for more than an hour but would not disturb you, for I knew that you needed rest. You have been so good to me, Mrs; Payne, that I do not know how I will ever repay you. Surely by this time your little means must be very nearly exhausted. And then what will we do? I can not work until I am strong and already I must have become a burden on your hands. But as soon as I am well I will hire out some where and as long as I live I will work to repay you. That will not be long, for I feel that ere many months I must go to join my mother in heaven. Life has become a burden and the last chord is broken. The last hope has been taken and theje is nothing more to live for. Now tell me how much I owe you and how much of your own savings have you left. Can we possibly exist a month longer, for it will be quite so long before I can hope to be able to do any work. How sad it is for one who has been accustomed to a loving home to be driven mercilessly out upon the world. And yet I brought it upon myself. My poor old father is not to be blamed. For if a girl at seventeen has not learned how to take care of herself, she must reap the folly of her earlier years for not having learned." Thus she spoke and thus she thought. Her obedient and loving nature would allow her to find no fault of her father. She felt sure that, all the blame was here. She overlooked the fact that her father had forced the preacher upon her even against her protestations. It was her love of home and parents that made her feel her own responsibilities. She had loved her mother and she had equally loved her papa. This, dear reader, made her worthy of the love of her friends, worthy of the love of a good man, and worthy of the love of her God. Unless as you read you feel conscious of having discharged your duty in the home, that you love and respect your mother and father with your whole heart, you are unworthy of the love of a good man. And he should be pitied who would be so silly as to make you his wife. For if you in your single life have ever thrown a plate at the head of your father or a saucer at the head of your mother, in your married life you will throw a stove against the head of your husband. Hattie could have, had she been rebellious, stayed at home, for her father was very old and could not have forced her from it. Yet it was his wish that she might go, and his wish was supreme in his household while his daughter was mistress. At his bidding she had stepped out into the World to suffer untold agony.

Was there ever a girl like her? And as Mrs. Payne listened to her on that balmy August morn her eyes filled with tears. She loved the suffering girl with a mother's affection.

"My poor, dear, darling!" she said, and and moved over beside her. "You need not give yourself uneasiness about your debt of gratitude to me. You are my daughter now and I will be your mother. When the last cent in my purse is spent I will go out and Work for more and will give it all to you. It would be all my life could crave to be able to care for you and see that you do not suffer. However my purse is not empty. It is full to overflowing. And now that you are able to talk once more I want to tell you a secret. I have kept It from you heretofore because I knew that you would reject it. But now my dear I hope that you will think better of it. For it is truly the gift of God. You have not forgotten the night that Jack came to visit us at the double tenement?"

"No."

"Well, may it please God that you may never forget it. I had just examined my purse and found that by close living we had. just enough money to last for one year. I had not anticipated so, many expenses as have come to us since. And had I had no other source but my purse we would ere this time have found ourselves in a sad plight. However on that very night Jack took me aside and secretly made provisions for you and it has saved us. I would not have told you dear, had you not betrayed in your speech the fact that you are mentally disturbed about my financial condition. Jack was good enough to provide lavishly for you. And because he loved you, he has begged that you accept it for yourself and child."

"Poor Jack!" said Hattie, "he is too kind to me. I do not deserve it. And I would rather die than use his money. Yet if it gives him pleasure for it to be so, I will not deprive him of that pleasure and since I have such a short while to live, I suppose I had as well accept it. I do it esyecially for you, Mrs. Payne. For when I die I want you to take care of my little girl and be a mother to it, unless I shall hereafter leave other instructions with you. And the appropriation that Jack has made for us you may divide between yourself and her. If I never get well and if I never meet Jack, tell him that I appreciate his gift, and I appreciate his love."

"Yes, yes, I will tell him darling, and I will tell him how much you love him. But darling let us hope that you will live long enough to meet him."

And poor Mrs, Payne with her eyes brim full of tears, left the bed-side to busy her-self about the household affairs. Hattie left alone to herself went on thinking over the few remaining months of the future. She would, as soon as she was able, write a message for her young daughter and seal it and leave it in the hands of Mrs. Payne to be given her when she was seventeen. She would tell her the whole history of her early life and the romance and disgrace connected with it. What a message that will be ! Will the mother ever live to write it? Will the daughter ever live to read it? These questions the future will answer. Within a week there was a decided change in that house. The young mother, seemingly, had grown stronger every day. And by the end of the month the girl was out of bed and able to do house work. It all seemed so marvelous and supernatural that Mrs. Payne looked on in silent wonder. It was plain that the girl was not well and yet she tripped about here and there like a ten year old maiden. She seemed to take no note of things about her but bent her mind upon her work. At sunset every evening she would wander out upon the beach. And any one noting her silent movements, her graceful and upright carriage and then looking into that sad sweet face, would think her a beautiful ghost just come to earth. Soon she began to sew and to make garments for her little child. So many of these garments were made and so much time spent in the work that Mrs. Payne marvelled and asked why so much work was done.

"Because," she answered, "I am getting ready to die and I want to do all I can to help you that you may not find so much to do when I am gone. I have but a few months to be with you Mrs. Payne, and I want to be of some service while I am here." Mrs. Payne would have tried to persuade her to stop work, but alas! she knew it would do no good. There was a determined but unearthly expression upon the girl's face. Some wonderful change was working upon her. Each day she was growing strangely beautiful and more angelic. Often the little woman had followed her down to the sea shore and had seen her fall upon her knees and pray long and earnestly to God. And often when the prayer was ended would the fair girl stand and like a beautiful ghost wave a kiss towards the skies.

"This is to you, mother," she would say. And with a merry little laugh would add: "Do not be impatient, dear mother, I am coming to you. I am on the way. My trouble is almost over. Wait a little while, dear mother, wait a little while."

And thus the summer went by. The autumn began and the cold October frosts drove their sea-side visitors to their distant homes. The little town becomes very lonely to the few inhabitants. Mrs. Payne thought it the last town of the world but Hattie seemed absolutely content and refused to live in any other place during those long autumn months. Indeed she would have been glad had there been no one there beside herself, child and Mrs. Payne. She spent most of her time in sewing but now the sewing was over, what would she do? It had long been her most chsrished wish to be able to accomplish some good for her sex but her bright career had been ended by the ministry. What now could she do? A few moments decided it. She meant to save her little daughter at whatever hazzard. Her own time was fast waning away from earth and what she had to do must be done quickly. It was already December and she had much to do. Therefore one morning she surprised Mrs. Payne by telling her that she meant to spend the day shut up in her own room and did not wish to be disturbed.

"Why, my dear," said Mrs. Payne, "shall I not bring your dinner up to you?"

"No, I will be too busy to eat it."

"Too busy! Pray tell me what you are going to do that it will take your time from your meals?"

"Well, I will tell you. It is this. I know full well that I have little less than a month to live and there is my daughter to be reared without a mother. The day will come when she ought to know something about herself and her mother. Besides she must be saved from the fate that befell her mother. Therefore I will take the burden upon myself and will write for her the history of my life and an exhortation which, it pleasing God, may be a safe-guard for her against the snares of a wicked world. So now you know my mission, disturb me not. I will be down for supper, but not before."

Thus speaking, she passed lightly from the room and sought her chamber at the top of the stairs.

All day at the window overlooking a peaceful sea sat Hattie. Her finger's clutched a golden pen and from its point the liquid words burst forth a purple stream over a whitened plain. At last. her fingers paused, the sun was setting in the west and her work was done. She held the missive between her fingers and read it almost aloud —"My dear child, as you lie in your cradle I, your mother, look upon your beautiful face and innocent features and weep because that you are born. You are too beautiful to be safe from the clutches of an evil doer. Your mother was much like you in her infancy and is much like you now. I hope that you have the same talents in every re* spect, but I pray to God that you may not be as unfortunate as I. For while you lie there a perfect mass of innocence, my heart is quite broken and the burden of my guilt crushes me even unto death, for I am dying, though slowly, yet surely. It grieves me that I cannot leave you a name that will be honorable for you to 'bear, but alas! It can not be. You were born in disgrace and disgrace will cling to you; O, My daughter! my heart bleeds , indeed it does. I would that the whole past might be recalled! For some day I know that you will curse me for bringing you forth in shame. It could not be helped. Do not think worse of me than I really am. Though I might have saved you a name yet in God's sight it would have been worse than shame. Therefore that you may know your mother, her virtue and her woes, I write these pages of truth and leave them for you. Believe me, dear, I speak the truth and God has set his seal upon it as such. My life has not always been one of misery, but up to a year ago I was one of the happiest among women. I was born of good parents, reared by a good mother and grew up in a pure home. At sixteen I was deprived of my mother and the duties of the home fell upon me. My father never troubled himself to bother about me except to provide me with money and let me have my way. He knew that mother had spared no pains in raising me right and he felt that it was safe enough to trust me to-myself. One year after the death of my mother I met and loved a handsome young man. I promised to be his wife. And O, I was so happy! The day came for us to marry and I postponed it. My lover went abroad and I lived only in the expectation of his return. But ere he returned a preacher came upon the scene. I always hated preachers, for they all wore so very corrupted. This one was my pastor and I was organist in his church. I had a good voice and therefore played a prominent part in the church. However I did not like the parson and begged father not to allow him to come to our house. Father was old and thought it but right to make it pleasant for the minister and thereby compelled me to entertain him against my will. All went wrong from the very first, for he often tried to kiss me. I ought to have sent for Jack but I waited and that was my mistake. At last, one night right in the midst of a great revival the parson took advantage of an hour when I was happy and offered to lead me home. I did not object and he purposely led me from the path into the woodland.

And when I discovered his purpose I fell upon my knees and begged him in the name of heaven and his sacred profession to spare me. He argued and in spite of my protestations he accomplished my ruin. Then he repaid me for my folly by expelling me from the church. My father drove me from home and here am I casted out upon the world, and you, my precious darling, born in shame. I could have saved you, for Jack came back and forgave me and begged me to marry him and hide my disgrace, but I thought it unjust to him, and I was so unworthy. He went away but left for you a sum large enough to provide for your welfare. He did this because he loved me, your mother. Since then I have not seen him, but I will love him until death and even afterwards. Though now I am barely eighteen, yet I am dying. My heart is broken by care and grief and I have not long to live. I give you to Mrs Payne, the dear good woman who nursed me through my illness. Obey and love her as a mother and God will bless you. I can not stay with you long, therefore I give you a mothers advice. Take care of your beauty and let it not lead you into trouble. Remember, the beautiful girl has a hard time in this world. All men are against her. You must learn to treasure your virtue, for it is a precious gift of God. Let no man deprive you of it, but hold it to your dying day. For by so doing, you atone for the errors committed by your mother. I would further advise that you entertain not for a day the attention of any. preacher. Not that all preachers are bad but because there are such few good ones that it is but a game of chance to find one worthy of you. Love the cause of temperance and entertain no one who is against it. Hate the tobacco worm as you hate a snake; despise him who tarrieth long at the wine, and lift never your precious younw lips to be kissed by any man except your promised husband. Marry him who loves you and is able to provide for you. But marry him not if he has one immoral trait that he refuses to set aside, for your home would be worse than hell. For she who marries the devil must live in "Hell Castle." And to live in "Hell Castle "is to artake of the nature of the devil, to discard every gift of God, and to fret out an existence of absolute despair. O, for the love of God, young lady-----for that you will be ere this comes to your hands——do not betray the sacred principles that God has planted in you. Let not the nefarious sin-flower prosper in your garden of life but cultivate the precious little violet of love. Make it your mission to choose between God and self. Enter into the joys of his love and into his vineyard an earnest worker. Turn no one empty handed from your door. But seek ye those whom you can help. Hide not in your heart deceit, but let your life be an open book that all who wish may read. Avoid deep secrets and above all other be frank with your lover. Hide nothing from him less you deprive your self of his counsel And if he loves you, his counsel will always be good and cheering. Choose never man to wed until you have had communion with God and have taken him into your confidence. For then he will guide you in your search and bring you face to face with your soul's ideal. In love be constant and play not with the heart of another. Be dutiful at church and break never one of your sacred vows to God, for he has no pleasure in fools. And remember that the girl who looks lightly upon her relations with the church and cares but little for the duty devolved upon her there, is unfit to be the wife of any man, let him be saint or devel. Now therefore believe me, that what I speak is truth coming from the depths of an earnest and loving heart, and forgive me, your mother, for the shame I have brought upon you. Let your mother's sins be hidden by the effulgence of her daughter's purity. Try to meet me in heaven, the blessing of God being upon you till the day of our glorious re-union above--------farewell! _ Your Mother Hattie Evelyn."

Her slender fingers trembled and her eyes filled with tears as she read the closing lines. O, what an influence might she wield over the little one could she but be spared to be with her! However, she felt certain that Mrs. Payne would do her duty in moulding the character of the precious child. Wiping the tears from her eyes, the pale young mother arose and decended the stairs. Mrs.

Payne rejoicing to hear the familiar foot-falls upon the stairs, hastened to meet her, and like a fond mother caressing her daughter, she throws her arms about her neck and gives her a hearty hug.

"Darling, I have been so uneasy waiting for you. I feared that you might be ill and have been trying to make up my mind to go up to you. You can imagine how lonely I was without you. Indeed, dear, you have become part of my life and I don't know what I should do without you. I hope the day will never come when we must part, and yet I feel the day is near at hand, You are quite changed and resemble more closer an angel than a mortal."

Hattie laughed and kissing the little woman with a daughter's affection she moved off in the direction of the dining room.

"May I have Supper now? she asked. I am so hungry. Indeed being shut up in one's room all day is a splended appetizer."

Mrs. Payne did not reply but throwing one arm about the waist of the speaker fairly pulled her along to the table where a steaming supper was spread in readiness. Hattie ate heartily. For now that her work was done, her mind was free from its burden of care. By constant prayer she had resigned herself to the will of God and meant to make her last few days upon earth as pleasant to those around her as it was possible for her to do. There was no more work for her to do and she would be her old self again and forget the sorrow that she had borne. And at the table she was so very jolly that Mrs. Payne was quite taken with surprise. However, she was not deceived. She could see that there was something unnatural in such sudden change and her fears were rapidly increasing. She could not refrain from speaking. At length she spoke.

"Hattie, dear, you cannot deceive me and it is due me that I know the truth. What has changed you? You look as you did at Maxwell-Place. Your old beauty has returned and increased ten-fold. True health seems to leap into every vein. Your eyes sparkle with a heavenly radiance and your face is that of an angel. What is it darling? what is it that has changed you?"

Hattie laughed and then she turned those beautiful orbs upon Mrs. Payne.

"Well," she began, I suppose might as well tell you. God has changed me. He has heard my prayers and I am but growing in grace and beauty that I may return to my home and die. Indeed I am dying every day, but he has prolonged it that I might return to my father and my friends and die in my own room where mother died. I long to look upon the old church, to sing one more song in the choir, to sit once more , in my father's pew. I long also to meet the parson who has ruined me and clasp forgiving hands with him and tell him I forgive him and commit him to my God for the rest. I wish not to have one thing against any one when I die. Christ forgave them who crucified him, why not I forgive him who disgraced me. I want to be like Christ and be like him I shall during the remaining of my few brief days upon earth. I want to see my friends, and though they may scorn me, yet I must look them to eyes and endure their scorn. And all this God has promised me and I am content. No longer do I worry over the past or future but wholly lean upon God's word and am satisfied. In three days, I leave for home and though my father may not admit me yet will I beg admission and forgiveness. I will not again return to you when I am gone, for I go home to die. Therefore I beseech you to be not grieved over my departure but let your heart be light and joyous, I am very very happy and do not grieve because I know that I cannot live and you should not grieve about me. Your love has been all I could wish from one not my mother but the love of my God has been far better and when I leave you I enter into His glory and will there await the foot-falls of your coming to welcome you on God's eternal shore. Now will you grieve? Gan you not refrain from tears for a few days that my stay here may be full of joy without having to be reminded of the sorrowful past?" And as she spoke, she arose and passed over to where Mrs. Payne sat and throwing her arm around her, planted a kiss upon each cheek. "Now," said she, "forget your sorrows and enter into joy and rest."

The touch was magic. Mrs. Payne could not tell why it was, and perhaps nobody else could have told, but her fears were actually banished and her heart was relieved of its burden of care. She was happy, yes, absolutely happy. No longer would she weep or grieve. Her precious charge was going home to her own mother and to meet her God. She was prepared to go and O, how her words had touched her heart! Would any one dare to scorn one so pure and holy? God forbid, for she is as pure today as the little babe in its cradle.

"My daughter" said Mrs. Payne, "I no longer grieve but share your happiness. You have borne your burden well and I am glad to see that peaceful look upon your face. Your mind is at ease and your heart is content.

I enter into the spirit of your own pleasures and will do much to make the rest of your stay pleasant. Some day I will meet you in heaven but until that time your life shall be a wonderful example for me. I shall henceforth live nearer the cross of Christ and be consecrated to his cause. Therefore, dear, I grieve no more over the toils and cares of this world but will wait patiently for the glory of the next."

And as she spoke and kissed Hattie and then arose to clear the dishes from the table. Hattie arose and helped her, humming a merry song as she worked.

"Why, Hattie, it is like old times to sea you in high spirit. Will you play a song for me when we are through?"

"With pleasure," said Hattie, "I was just going to ask if you cared to hear me play." Then both women hurried with their work and when it was finished Hattie took her seat at an old piano that was dust-covered and worn. For, twenty years this self same instrument had slept the sleep of Rip Van Winkle, never, dreaming that it was out of date or far behind in the musical world. Yet the first touch of her angelic finger awoke this sleepy mass of ebon and the rapid pulsates of its great wire heart filled the room with sound. Indeed the old instrument seemed to be just in its prime, for never before had its chords vibrated sweeter. The player sang as her fingers tripped over the keys, and one listening to those heart touching strains would have thought it the voice of an angel singing in paradise. Mrs. Payne was charmed into silence, perfect silence. Her soul seemed to respond to the angelic strains, but her mouth said not a word. She had noyer seen one so changed as Hattie. To Mrs. Payhe, Hattie was an angel, the only attribute missing being her wings. When the song was ended Hattie left ,the old piano and whirled herself lightly over the floor. This was a greater surprise to Mrs. Payne than the music. It had not occurred to her that the young lady was as yet strong enough to whirl so lightly, so steadily and with so much ease.

"Indeed you are growing stronger dear," she ventured to say as Hattie stopped and stood before her."

"Yes," said the young woman smiling, "I am as strong as ever I was in girlhood and as happy as any mortal will ever be this side of Heaven. Come and let us go out into the moonlight and walk by the murmuring sea. And taking Mrs. Payne by the arm she nearly dragged her through the door-way and on a romp towards the beach. The dear little woman was so glad to see the girl happy once more that she could not refrain from joining in the frolick; and had a stranger entered upon the scene, he would have thought them two fairies dancing away the night. For hand in hand they were skipping like children in the merry spring. It was late when the two women re-entered the house. Both had forgotten their past week of sorrow and neither cared for the coming future save that they wanted to meet in heaven. That night Mrs. Payne's slumber was the sweetest of all her life. It is always so when one is just relieved of a burden of. grief and pain. Next morning the two women were up by light and each was rejoiced to kiss the other. Their lives had become so interwoven that it was natural for them to feel, the one as mother, and the other as daughter. The little sea-side cottage seemed to be filled with new life and light. A new era had dawned into the life of two people. The one was prepared to battle with the toils and cares of this world and the other prepared to meet her God. What a glorious dawning this must have been! The last day came in which the two women could hope to further enjoy the pleasure of each other's company. It was a pleasant December's morn and the sea breeze seemed so inviting that Mrs. Payne was quite anxious for Hattie to come down and take a stroll upon the beach.' But that young lady was busy up stairs packing her trunk. The time had come for her to hasten homeward to her burrial place, for she could not live longer than a fortnight and it was all of a weeks journey to her home. Her heart had long since broken and her recent fever had prostrated her nerves. It was only by the grace of God that she was ever able to leave bed and seemingly regain her health. It was God's way of helping her to die joyfully out of this life into the glory of his eternal presence. Her prayers had all been answered and her conscience was at rest. What an angel she seemed to be as she came lightly down the stairs I Mrs. Payne confessed that she had never seen such perfect picture of loveliness, so angelic, so sublime. In one hand she carried a small traveling bag and in the other she held a sealed package.

"Mrs. Payne," she said, "I now must leave you and I have brought to you this package. Take it and keep it until little Evelyn is seventeen and then give it to her, telling her that it is from her mother. Meanwhile I leave her in your keeping. Raise her as God would have her reared. Take the money Jack has left for us and divide it among you—yourself, Evelyn and the poor. Now do not grieve after me, for in two weeks I will enter into the glory of God and will rest in the arms of my mother. The hack-man is at the door and I must be going. You look disappointed, but you promised me that you would not grieve, so keep your word and trust in God; He will pilot you over life's tempestous sea. Now let me kiss my babe." And she held the child long to her heart and kissed it, and then, turning to Mrs. Payne, she threw her arms about her neck and bade her a long farewell; and she was gone, leaving the good little woman wringing her hands with grief.

The day on which Jack and Dick Manings has so interestingly discussed the renovation of the pulpit Kittie arrived at the Southern hotel, homeward bound from her great tour. Jack and Dick were seated at the table when she entered. Neither looked up and she took her seat beside Jack, never noticing the handsome face of either gentleman. She was very hungry and proceeded to devour the chicken and eggs before her. Richard Mannings was the first to look up. And when he saw the woman facing him, he sat bolt erect in his seat and gazed. He had never seen woman so lovely. He felt that he could sit there forever looking upon that beautiful face. In a moment she looked up. Their eyes met and two hearts beat uneasily. Both moved uneasily in their seats and neither seemed able to break the spell. At last Jack looked up, and seeing his friend sitting there like a statue, wondered what had happened. Then turning his eyes toward the woman at his side, he leaped from his seat nearly upsetting the table.

"Why, Kittie," he said throwing his arms about her neck and nearly choking her as he lifted her chin that he might kiss her, "where did you come from?" Dick, allow me to present you to my sister, Miss Mc Alister."

"I am glad to meet Miss Mc Alister," said Dick. "I think I met her once or twice when a child but in more recent years I have seen nothing of her, she being away at school."

Kittie returned his bow with a smile and added, "I am quite sure, Mr. Mannings that by this time you are no stranger to me, for my brother never talks of anyone else, and to be frank with you, I have often found myself wondering if when we met would I see an Appolo or an American bear."

At this they all laughed and Richard asked which of the two she decided that she had met.

"I have not as yet decided, Mr. Mannings, but if you give me more time I think that within a few days I can answer truthfully." "Well," said Dick, smiling, "I do not object to you having all the time you wish providing that I be allowed the pleasure of being often in your presence so that you may give me justice." "I will accept your proposition, " she said, casting a glance at Jack.

" Well, that decides it," said Jack, "for if you but give Dick the chance he will convince you that he is an Apollo or some very close relation."

Then the three arose and sought the veranda. They talked till the dusky night came down and then Kittie proposed a walk in the moonlight. Jack excused himself and let Kittie and Richard do the strolling. Later on when they returned to the house, Jack took Kittie aside and asked how she liked his chum.

"O, Jack," she said, "I think him just the finest fellow in the world."

"That is enough," said' Jack, "It is settled. I know where it will all. end."

Then he kissed his sister and led her to the music room where Richard had already preceeded them.

"Do you sing Miss Mc Alister?" asked he, rising from the piano stool as she approached him.

"Yes, sometimes, but it is such bad singing, Mr. Mannings, that I am afraid that it would break our friendship if you but heard it."

"No, never," said he.

Frienship may have different forms, But loseth ne'er one of its charms.

So you run no risk of breaking our friendship, now-will you sing?".

"I will," she answered and took her seat at the piano. Her light fingers flew over the piano keys and her voice broke into sweet strains.

'"Cupid thou art a wanderer - O'er every land and sea; One rapid arrow from thy bow Has settled it all with me.

And settled it all with me, dear heart, And settled it all with me."

At last she paused and turning her d rk eyes upon Richard, exclaimed: "There, I told you I could not sing and I have frightened you, for there you stand like a statue unable to speak or move."

Richard had been electrified by the singing, for to him it was the sweetest ever sung by woman. And why had she selected those words. Were they for him? At last he spoke. "No I am not frightened, but only thinking to see whether I could recall ever having heard those words before. They are new to me, and yet you could not have selected words to please me more."

"I am glad you like them," she said, "they are my own."

"What! Do you mean to say that you are the composer of that most excellent piece of music?"

"I am," she replied, "but I did not think that anyone would ever like it."

Why, it is simply beautiful," he said. "Now will you sing it over again for me?" "Not tonight," she said, and, rising, bade, him good-night. Once in her own room, how her heart did beat! It was love. She knew it was love. And he loved her, for she saw it in his eyes. O, dear reader, the tongue may lie but the eyes will speak the soul. She had interpreted him right. He loved her and with passion noble, true, and lasting. How each passed the night, no one can tell. But in the early morn both were up by time. When Kittie came down stairs with her hair filled with roses she saw Mr. Mannings waiting on the lawn. It all seemed to be a prearranged affair, for Dick looking up and seeing her, turned to meet her, and raising his hat offered to stroll with her down by the river-side. She accepted and together they strolled far down the river. At a bend in the river they met an aged man who appeared to be a tramp. His clothes were torn and dirty and he had a dirty little black bag swung over his shoulder. He was a comical sight to look at. Richard looked upon him with loathing, but something prompted Kittie to address him.

"Good morning old father !" she said, "you seem to be a traveler, may I ask your name?"

"O, yes, young lady," said he, "for I am proud to meet you. My name is Rev. Ward, and it always gives me great pleasure to talk to the ladies."

"Reverend Ward!" echoed Kittie. What, are you a preacher?

"O, yes. Why, I am the oldest preacher in the New nited States and won the premium at Washington for my oratory. Why, I was the only man who could successfully measure heaven. You know that, the Bible says that heaven is twelve furlongs one way and forty furlongs the other way____" "No, I don't know anything of the kind," interrupted Kittie.

"Well it does," said the old man, "but of course you have not read the Bible well enough to know what it says. So I just said if eight furlongs make a mile, then eight would go into twelve one time and four over, the four representing the four corners of the heavens, and then I said eight into forty, five times and nothing over; and putting the one before the five I found that heaven was fifteen hundred miles square and I told the audience that there was room for all, just get on board and follow me and thçy would get to glory sure. Well, the president gave me a gold medal for my sense." "I think you needed it," said Kittie "but you spoke of liking to talk with the ladies, have you ever been married?"

"I should smile young lady, I do not know how many times I have been married, Once I remember I was married four times in one year and raised six children during the year. I was a great Bible reader then, and I read where David was a man after God's own heart and hand a hundred wives and Soloman, the son of David, a man after David's own heart, had one thousand wives, and I have been trying to be like them, for I want to keep in accordance with the scripture; but bless your soul, honey, the woman I have now is the best woman in the world. Why, she makes all the dresses for the others and never says a word if I never go home." "Well have you any children living," asked Richard, much amused.

"O, yes,' came the reply, "I have in my immediate family thirty-six grown children, sixteen men and twenty women. My wife is ninety-five years old, and gentle and patient. Indeed she is the gift of God's own hand.

"You spoke of your immediate family, have you others not in your immediate family?" "Yes, bless your heart, about seven hundred."

Richard dropped upon the grass and fairly roared with laughter but Kittie was calm.

"You have a bag," said she, "may I ask where you are going?"

"O, certainly child, I am going to the International Fair at Atlanta to represent the " Missionary cause"over there in the National Convention one year from now.'" "What! You a delegate to the National Convention?" exclaimed Kittie, "why you are unfit to represent the devil's cause."

"Perhaps I am," said he, "but it strikes me that you are a saucy Miss. Girls are getting too impudent now adaye any way. Why my son Spikenard was telling about a girl down his way who tried to shoot him because he disgraced a friend of hers. Now that ought to have been me and I would have taught her a never to be forgotten lesson."

"What! Are you Rev. Spikenard's father?" asked she staring him in the face.

"Why he is my most beloved son" said the old man proudly.

"Well, I thought him the son of the devil and now I know it. Sir, I am the girl who shot at your son and if I had a revolver I would fill your scalp full of balls. Now be gone you worthless cur! You are a fine specimen of filth to represent decent people in a National Convention."

And as Kittle spoke, she turned and walkaway, Richard Mannings rose and followed her. She stopped at the river's edge and sitting down by the side of a great tree, bursted into tears and covered her face with her hands. In a moment Richard was beside her.

"Why do you weep?" he asked and sat down beside her.

"O, Mr. Mannings," she said imploringly, "will you, for the love of God and the love of humanity and all else sacred upon earth, enter upon the ministeral field and assist my brother in renovating the pulpit? Indeed our churches are ruined and young men are needed to carry on the work of renovation, tO establish purity in God's holy temples. Will you, O, sir, will you for the love of God enter upon this work? O, sir! do take the yoke of Christ upon you for it is easy and His burden is light."

While she spoke Richard had been watching her. She seemed to him much more beautiful than before and certainly she had grown much lovlier, for the beautiful soul makes a lovely face. He had often thought of entering the ministry if he could first find an agreeable companion who would sympathize with him in the work. Now here was a glorious opportunity. Before him was a lovely woman pleading with him to enter the ministry and he loved her, yes, loved her madly, why not ask her to be his wife and with her to give him comfort, enter upon his sacred mission. Yes he would ask, and stooping, for he had risen, he bent over her a moment and then dropping upon one knee caught her up in his arms, and before she had time to struggle, placed a kiss upon her lips with words that fairly made her heart stand still, so great was her joy.

"Kittie, darling, I love you and my heart longs for your companionship. With your love I can enter upon the sacred work, God being my helper. Will you be my wife?"

Kittie's heart beat rapidly and she was too happy for words. She only rested her head against his bosom and raised her loving eyes to his face. He know then that she loved him and without saying a word he drew from his pocket a ring and placed it upon her finger. Jack was too happy for words when the two returned to the hotel and broke the news to him. November came and found the trio still at the Southern hotel. To the lovers, it had indeed been a month of bliss, but to Jack it had been misery untold. For now that Dick was going to marry Kittie, he wanted to find Hattie, thus hoping to have a double wedding in the little church at home. Soon the lovers parted, each to prepare for the wedding which was to take place about the middle of December. Jack once more went upon a wild goose chase around the globe in search of Hattie. At last failing to And her he gave up the search and returned home on the very day when all of Maxville was in excitement over Kittie's wedding.

He knew not she who loved him true Would on that day come into view.

And by the brook she took her stand And made a vow and gave her hand.

It is late in the after-noon and the soft gray December clouds bespeak a winter's solitude to the leafless trees of a murmuring wood. Zephyr's low whisper may be heard among the rustling leaves as they frolic hither and thither over the dry and airy woodland. The busy hum of carriage wheels break the monotony of the hour as they come and go. And the little village so lately wrapped in silence is now astir with excitement. A wedding is taking place in the old country church and as the South bound express stops at the little station and then hurries onward, a beautiful lady steps from the platform and slowly wends her way to the church where the crowd is gathered. The reverend had just ended the ceremony and the bride and groom are just about to kiss when there is a rustle in the crowd and every eye is turned upon what seems to be a vision rather than reality. A beautiful woman, angelic and graceful, moved slowly down the aisle. Her flaxen hair falling to her waist and a saddened face lighted by a heevenly smile made her most beautiful to behold. The ladies murmured, the gentlemen starred, and the bride with an exclamation of delight rushed forward and threw her arms about the neck of the beautiful vision. The two women wept on each other's neck, and the startled crowd came forward to extend the hand of greeting, Jack being foremost of all. Among that crowd came Rev. Spikenard and extend ed his hands. The lovely young woman placed her own hand into his and raised a pair of searching but forgiving eyes to his face. He will never, till his dying day, forget that look of mingled innocence and reproach. And her words will haunt him even upon his death bed. She spoke slowly and her voice was soft and clear. The crowd around her heard her say, "Dear sir, I extend to you my hand as a token of a forgiving heart. Not because you deserve it but because Christianity demands it. You, sir, have committed a grave sin and are worse than the vilest cur. My life by you was wrecked and my early girlhood purity destroyed, and yet you have the audacity of the devil to come and stare me in the face with that satanic smile which seems to boast of your dirty deed. O, sir, I forgive you though you have brought me to my grave! To God alone must you account for having polluted his holy temple and for having disgraced your sacred profession. God will mete unto you justice and you will surely reap the reward of your hypocricy. Now begone!

I care not more to look upon such animated maos of filth!

And with these words spoken, she turned her back upon him. He hung his head and slunk away, for a hundred fierce eyes were upon him. Every one desired to strike him down, yet no one dared, and so he escaped unhurt. The wedding for awhile was forgotten. All was insignificant now when compared with the beautiful girl surrounded by anxious friends. Even those who had spoken of her in contempt, now came forward to kiss her. None dared to scorn one whose face so much bespoke her innocence. That face lighted up by holiness bespoke a pure soul within. And though her fair name had been tarnished, yet her soul was as pure now as it was on the day which God gave It. It was a long time before the groom could get a few moments with his bride and even then she seemed to hesitate about leaving her lady friend. However they kissed and parted, the bride to go with her husband and the sad young woman to haunt the scenes of her girl-hood. Jack had been best man at his sieter's wedding and now that the parting words had been said he was busying himself at the carriage door, through which he handed the bride and then her groom. It was all done in nervous haste, for he had scarcely closed the carriage door ere he turned and went in search of the fair young beauty he had left standing by the steps. She was gone and , Jack followed. Her dainty feet had just come to a stand-still upon the brook's edge when Jack came leaping down the bank towards her. She did not turn, around for she expected him. It Was a lovely eve and the gray clouds that so long had covered the sky, now parted like a great curtain, and heaven peeped through its smiling face to witness the happiest of ail love scenes, Down the steep bank behind her came the lover but she had never stirred and remains motionless untill she feels his strong arm about her and then her heart beats with all the love of days gone past. A little more than a year ago she stood there in that self-sane place and Jack held her in his arms as now, but then in the former ease she had pledged herself to be his wife, saying that nothing could change her but death and now she is undoing all that has been done except that she loves him and will love him through eternity.

"O, Jack," she exclaims as his gentle arms enfold her, "I am so glad you came! It was here where you found out that I loved you and it shall be here where I shall begin a new life of love. It is so pleasant to have your arms around me, Jack, and to lay my head upon your shoulder and look into your love-lit eyes. I know that you love me and have loved me through all of my unfitness. Love-like yours will have its own great reward. Therefore I beg you to love another, one who will prove worthy of your noble love.

And release me, I pray thee, from my engagement and take back the ring that you gave me, for I am unfit to wear it."

Here she paused and nestling ner head closer to his bosom wept as only the lover can weep. Jack lifted her face with his hand and kissed her.

"O, darling, you cannot know how much I love you! I will never love another as I have loved yon. Yet if you wish it, I must release you. But remember, you are breaking the heart that loves you."

"O, Jack, don't say that! I never want to feel that I have caused another pain. It is nobler for me to die with all my shame upon me than to have another to share it. My heart has long since been broken, not that I was not loved, for I know I was, but because I am so unworthy of him who loves me. Now I do not feel just now that I have long to live. My heart is broken and my life is slowly passing away. Besides if I should live, I have a living child, little Evelyn, and she would serve as a constant reminder to you of my past sins and then you would learn to hate me. You could never trust me again and I could not blame you, and yet to know that I was mistrusted would render my life most miserable. O, Jack, it cannot be! No, never! There is a child between us and though you think now that it will be no obstacle to our love, yet in the end it would serve to separate us, which separation would be worse than death. "

"Hattie, stop !" said Jack full of emotion. "Do not worry about that. Little Evelyn shall live with us and I promise you she shall never know aught but that I am her father. I could not love you, dear, without loving your child. I would not love you without forgiving all your faults. It is too much the fault of men to be hasty in. condemning unfortunate women. No man should be hasty in condemning women if in his own life he has been guilty of a similar offence. Now I do not by any means confess that I have been guiltv, but it was not my goodness that makes me innocent: rather it was the lack of favorable opportunities. Most men are moral failures when brought square up to the test, and only because they rely too much upon individual strength rather than divine help. I have trusted much in self, darling, but now I trust in divine help and the love of a noble woman. I think of entering the ministry and hope not to be a repetition of Rev. Spikenard. I trust in God and your love to save me to the cause I so much love, do you desert me?"

Hattie looked up and there was a new light in her eyes as she asked, "Are you going to preach, Jack?"

"Yes," came the response, and then he waited to see what she had to say about it, for he knew that she hated the name of a minister.

"Well, I am so glad," she said, "for you would be so pure and holy. I have often prayed that you might be and now my prayer is answered. By all means preach and may God lead you in the right way. I think more of my promise now, and if it pleases God that I may live to help you in renovating the pulpit, then I promise to be your wife and nothing shall prevent me except death. This is final, Jack, provided that I live, but if I die regard me as your wife and scatter flowers over my grave. Now therefore if there must be a wedding, I prefer it early on Christmas morn and would like for Mrs. Payne and Evelyn to be present. But it is just a "week till Christmas and it is a week's journey to where they are. However here is the address and you can telegraph them to meet you half way and return with them on the early express Christmas morn. They will be in time and I will meet you at the altar in the new chapel. Nothing can change this, for I will meet you there. Now then hasten and break the news to Kittie that she may publish it, and leave your order with your gardener for the flowers that I may have them at my command. Then you must take the mid-night express and go and bring those precious loved ones. Now just one more kiss dear, just once more to lie in your embrace and to rest my head upon your breast and look into your lovelit eyes; just once more to hear you say that you love me and my happiness is complete."

He held her closer to his heart, he lifted her perfect chin and kissed her, he replaced upon her finger the engagement ring and poured into her ears love's sweetest words.

"Now that will do, love," she said, "and I will hasten home; so let us part."

"But may I not see you home?" he asked almost pleadingly.

"No, not this eve love, I prefer going alone, so good-bye!" And ere he had time to inter-cept her, she was gone. Jack went home and while he was surprising Kittie with the glad news of his expected wedding, Hattie was kneeling at the feet of her father pleading for a look of his love and forgiveness.

"O, papa!" she is saying, "can you not forgive your daughter? I know that I am unworthy to be called your child, that I have committed a grave error, yet for mamma's sake and. for the love of your daughter, forgive me and take me back into your home. I disgraced it once but now I will restore it ten-fold. My friends have received me back and will expect to be invited to see me here, now shall I not give them this pleasure and thereby restore the home, or must I be thrust from the house without even a chance to restore the fair name of my mother's home? O, papa! have you no heart? Are you so unforgiving?" And then she threw her arms tround his neck, but he had suffered much by her previous conduct and now his heart was turned to stone. For instead of being moved by the scorching tears and gentle touch of his daughter's embrace, he is angered beyond his self control and stretching forth his hand, throws her from him so forcibly that she falls prostrate upon the floor.

"There," said he, "begone! and never bother me again,for I can not and will not forgive you for the disgrace you have brought upon this house. But if you persist in staying here, I will not drive you away. There is the house, take it and do what you will, provided that you do not disturb me, for I never want you to speak to me again. My meals must hereafter be served in my own room, for it will not be well for us to meet."

There-upon he rang the bell and a servant entered as Hattie was picking herself up from the floor. Poor thing! it was hard to be treated thus, yet she did not complain and turned hopelessly towards the door.

"Here," said Mr. Maxwell to the servant as she entered, "show Hattie her room and remember that hence forth she is mistress of this place. As for me, you may say to the cook that I want all my meals hereafter served in my room." Then he waved them from him and resumed his reading of the evening papers. All the servants were glad to welcome home their young mistress and were enraged at the master for such ill treatment of his daughter. However his orders were tacitly obeyed. His meals were daily served in his room and father and daughter seldom met. The news of the wedding was rapidly spread and all the young people of the vicinity hastened to congratulate the expected bride. A storm party was arranged by them before the wedding day, at which party they not only restored her to her former place among them but by the honors they heaped upon her, they actually placed her far afove them and crowned. her belle of Maxville, which honors she justly deserved. Had it not been for the barrier twixt father and daughter she would have been profoundly happy: for now her home was fully restored, yea, restored ten-fold, and no more would her shame be remembered by those who know find loved her. Little Evelyn would bo gladly welcomed and would be received and loved for the sake of her mother. Few girls are so much loved by their friends, and but few could go astray now adays and hope to be restored to the favor of those who knew them. What a pity it is that the world is growing so cruel and cold! The party had just broken and the last of the young people were just leaving Maxwell-Place, when Hattie, light hearted and joyous, determined to violate one of her hither's oft repeated orders and, pushing open the door of the library, rushed in to where her father sat, still reading, although the hand of the old clock pointed to twelve. He sat with his legs crossed and looked up with a frown as she entered, but she would not retrace her steps, and throwing herself at his feet she locked her arms about his legs and pleaded as only a broken hearted person can plead.

""Dear papa, I come to you for the. last time. My heart is broken and I can not live under your roof without pour pardon. Do, dear father, for mother's sake and---"

Her speach was not finished, for just then her father raised his right foot and planting it brutally against her chest sent her sprawl -upon the floor.

"I told you," said he, "not to enter my presence again and gave you the house and the servants that you might not trouble me, but now that you have not obeyed my orders and have dared to enter my presence without my bidding, you shall go from this house immediately.

"Not tonight papa," she said, "for you know that the day after to-morrow is Christmas and the day appointed for my wedding, may I not stay until then? Let me stay papa and then I will go from this house never to return."

Thus speaking, she had picked herself up from the floor and stood looking at him with an expression upon her face that was never seen there before. He waved her angrily from him.

"Go," he said, "and go quickly,"

She casted upon him a look that in after years he never forgot.

"May heaven be more merciful to you, papa, than you have been to your daughter. You have been hard upon me but I forgive you and may heaven as freely forgive— farewell!"

The last thread was broken, the last fibre in that young life had snapped and her soul longed for the rest which this world cannot give. She dragged wearily up the stairs and reaching her room, took from her jewel case a golden heart and with a pointed instrument engraved upon it these words: "Be as true to your God as you have been to me.

"Hattie."

Then she sealed it in a velvet case and addressed it and placed it together with a note addressed to Kittie upon the table, next she went to her trunk and began to pack away her valuables. While packing she came to her bridal costume. At once she was seized with the desire to try it on. So without knowing why she did it she hastily undressed and redressed herself in her bridal costume and then plucking some flowers from a boquet that was sent to her that same evening from the hot-beds of Jack's garden, she stood in front of the mirror to admire herself. And never was there a flower in nature's garden lovlier than she on this winter's night, Though her face wore a shade of sadness, yet in every feature did heaven smile. As she gazed upon herself she sighed and, passing over to the window, she threw wide the shutters and looked out upon the full bright moon. Her soul was seized with a longing for heaven and she knelt and prayed: "O, God I commend my soul to thy care, for I am tired of this world! O, mother, wait a little while and I will be in, thy arms. "Then she whirled the sofa to the window and stretched herself upon it and thought that she would watch the moon and the star-lit heavens. She seemingly had forgotten that soon she must go out from the home that was once her own. And as she lay there in her bridal dress, a perfect picture of lovliness and beauty, a feeling of tiredness came over her and, as her weary lashes slowly closed, heaven seemed to stoop and kiss her and then her soul began to vibrate in response to unearthly music. Then came the sound of the flopping of angels' wings and the gentle arms of her mother seemed to catch her up from earth, and she was asleep. Yea, the promised, but tired and heart-broken bride was asleep. And even the moon-beams kissed her more gently lest they by their gentle touch might awaken her. The old clock upon the mantle almost ceased its breathing nor would it allow its great heart to beat lest the sounds might break the awful silence ; and the warm winter winds peeping in through the open window smiled upon the sleeping beauty and retreated with the musical murmur, "Let her sleep, yea, let her sleep, for rest like hers, well earned, is sweet."

It is Christmas morn and the measured tolls of the old church-bell startles many a heart with sadness. Are those slow and measured beats a call to the wedding? If so, why gathereth the crowd so silently? Why weepeth the audience so bitterly? Ah, the warm southern winds laden with an early morning's blessing, the fragrance of a neighboring hot-bed, might answer were they allowed to speak l The squirrel that frisks among the pines might tell the woeful tale of sadness, or the audience in the grand new chapel might speak the truth were it not that their tongues are paralyzed by grief. Slowly and mournfully the old bell tolls and the first dawn of day shows a sad procession wending its way to church. In the distance is heard the thundering of the South bound express. It has scarcely paused when a handsome gentleman leaps to the platform and assists a lady and child who follow after him. The child is fair haired and beautiful and the wo man who seems to be its mother bends her head and caresses it with a mother's affection. The young man is handsomely dressed and so eager does he seem to reach the church that he fairly pulls the woman and child forward in anxious haste. As he enters the vestibule of the church, a package is placed into his hands and he is commanded not to open it till he has seen his bride. He thrusts the package into his pocket and proudly enters the church,but mid-way down the aisle he stops to gaze at the curious spectators who burst into tears as they behold him.

"What is the trouble?" he hoarsely asked of a deacon nearby. "What mean these altars decked with crape? Do ye dare to mock my wedding?"

And he almost fiercely tore the crape from the altar and demanded the whereabouts of his bride.

"Be patient young man," said an old deacon, "your bride will come. She promised to meet you here and never will she break her word. Hark! I hear the foot-falls of them who foretell her coming."

Then the young, man looked in the direction of the door and beheld six pall-bearers bearing a golden covered casket, and im mediately before walked two flower girls scattering roses to the right and to the left and behind them came the minister repeating a Psalm. Slowly the procession moved down the aisle and stopped before the altar. The golden pall was removed from the casket and the minister (not Spikenard) raised his voice in trembling tones: "Behold your bride young nam !" Jack stepped forward and, lo!, in her coffin lay the cherished idol of his heart. A white rose in her hair bespoke her purity, and a bunch of violets upon her bosom told him that she was true to him even in death. At the altar she would meet him, she had said, and at the altar did she lay a beautiful corpse. She had kept her word and never a one of her vows was broken. And in the full dawn of that Christmas morn did the bride-groom, heart-broken, and sad, scatter flowers upon the grave of his bride. There is but little more to tell. Jack has entered the ministry and every evening may be seen caressing fair haired little Evelyn whom he calls his own. Mrs. Payne is staying with Kittie and her husband and is apparently happy, though sad at times. Rev. Spikenard has gone from bad to worse and though he is but an immoral scamp, yet he stands a fair chance of being elected bishop. Jack will probably be elected to supersede the parson and, to be sure, he will renovate the pulpit, for about his neck he wears a golden heart and the last and most treasured words of his loved lost one, bidding him be true to his God. Maxwell-Place is nearly deserted and often poor old Mr. M axwell may be seen wondering among the pines lamenting his not having forgiven his daughter and is haunted by her last pleading words. Alas, too late ! She will never return to plead at his feet. But he has learned even in his old age, that he who planteth thorns will assuredly reap the wounds.

THE END.