she had intended. Barbara's composure deserted her for the first time; she put her arms around Vallie's neck, and had a little womanish cry; but though she recovered herself very soon and thanked her gracefully, she did not carry the flowers.

The bridal trip lasted a month, and then Barbara came home, changed even in that time. The roses were gone from her cheeks, and never came back any more; the shadows that were used to hide themselves in her eyes, had crept out and covered her face. | You would not have known her for the same girl whose picture you see. Was she sorry before a month was gone? Yes; she was sorry before a week, before a day. Then she found a letter waiting for her. She did not tell me till long after, and no one else ever knew, but with the reading of that, her last chance of happiness in her married life slipped away. It was from Mr. Keith, and written, of all days in the year, the sixteenth of January-her wedding day!

It is needless to say he had not known that. As she opened it-you may think it was very wrong in her to do that, but she opened and read it many times before she could make up her mind to burn it-there fell out a rose-bud; he had kept the heliotrope. He told her, in no measured words, that he loved her with a love he had never felt before, and never should again. It was true, he had been engaged; it was an engagement into which his heart had never entered, but which he might have been faithful to, if he had never met her. After that October evening he had felt that his bonds were hateful to him, and that somehow they must be broken. He had had a long conversation with his father, who listened patiently to his confession, and advised him to go to Miss Grey and her father, and tell them the simple truth, but urged he should have no explanation with Barbara. would not be absent long, and it was a poor love that could not stand such a test as that.

He

The match with the daughter of his old friend lay near the heart of the judge; but he told Robert if he would agree to stay away even three months, and then came home still loving Barbara and released by Miss Grey, he would withdraw all opposition and give them his blessing. His son

thought this an easy condition; he was sure of himself, and thought he was sure of Barbara; so he had gone off hopefully to wait the time of probation. He did not find the Greys in England, as he expected, and had followed them to the Continent. There had been vexatious delays- in fact, Miss Grey had not been so willing to give him up as he had imagined, though she had accepted him in the beginning simply because her father told her to-but now, Robert wrote, he was free at last; he was coming home, he was coming to her, and if she refused his suit, if she said "No," she would have to say it looking into his eyes, and reading there a devotion she might never receive again.

It was such a letter as would come from a proud, passionate man, little used to being balked in his desires; who loved deeply for the first time, who had exercised over his feelings an unaccustomed control, and who feared that just as he had imagined what he coveted within his grasp - had felt secure of obtaining it, the treasure was slipping away into the keeping of another. It seemed that Mrs. Landon had confided to him her delight that before long her son woud have for a wife a girl she could really love, Barbara Nutt, whom he too knew and appreciated.

When Mr. Keith read this it did not take him long forgetting the silence he had promised his father to dispatch the letter Barbara received when it was too late. He started to follow, but at Paris found a batch of letters long delayed, and he came no farther; they contained the official announcement of the engagement and requests that he should endeavor to be with them on the sixteenth of January. He remembered that was the very day he had written to Barbara. When she was reading his confessions of love he was trying to decipher a not very legible little postscript at the bottom of another home letter from Will after the marriage; and as he did so the future looked very blank to him and there was a dull ache at his heart. It was in a woman's hand, and the writer said she hoped the friendship which she believed he felt for her, and which she certainly felt for him, might now ripen into a real cousinly attachment that he must try to give her a little place in his heart beside Will: and it was signed "Barbara N. Landon."

Poor Barbara! she had quite felicitated herself over this composition, thought it a capital way to show her indifference to him. How she wished it unwritten, for of course she forgave Mr. Keith's apparent desertion and the misery it caused, immediately; he loved her even as she had loved him that was enough.

Well, she took up the burden of life again and tried to do her duty-that is fearfully hard work sometimes. Will never knew of her receiving the letter, but their home was not a happy one; no children came to bless it; the husband devoted himself heart and soul to business, trying to gain from that the comfort denied them elsewhere. Though Barbara did her best, she could not deceive him, for he loved her and knew that she simply endured the love. Mr Keith did not come home, he simply wandered from place to place with apparently no aim in life; he could not forget Barbara, and he would not trust himself where she was. It was not the least of her punishment that she made the unhappiness of the only two men who ever loved

her.

"The days will grow to weeks, the weeks to months, The months will add themselves and make the years."

The years went peacefully enough, and the spring of '61 came and brought the war. I don't like to think much about that spring, or the four years that followed and the changes they made. Now that the war is over, we do not realize fully the difference it has made in our lives; for I believe not one of us passed through it untouched, or that we are quite the same we would have been without it. In so small a place as Adrian, the shock came home at once to every one of us. Not a volunteer shouldered his knapsack and marched away, but the tears, the prayers and the fears of the whole village went with him.

Will Landon was one of the first to answer the call to loyal men. He said farewell to law-books, wife, mother, home, and rushed away to the defence of Washington.

Ere

the three months service was over, he was engaged in recruiting a company for three years; and thence forward through all the long struggle, Captain Landon did good work for his country. The Adrian people watched his career with interest, and were very proud of him.

The cry

And where was Robert Keith? In the thickest of the fight too. sounded across the waters, and he felt that here was work suited to him - his chance had come at last. He took an inferior position in an Eastern regiment in preference to going West and availing himself of the influence he might easily have commanded. is needless to say he did not long remain in obscurity. His name was mentioned over and over for deeds of bravery, of almost recklessness, and when he first came back to Adrian it was the autumn of sixty-four, and he wore an eagle on his shoulder.

It

The very first day he called upon Barbara. He found her where he had parted from her; for when her husband first entered the army she had given up her house and gone to live with her aunt. Barbara saw him alone and what both suffered no one may say. They were both too generous to reproach each other, but they went over all the old ground, the mists and misunderstandings of years were cleared away. I know Barbara did not attempt to disguise her love and how she despaired when she thought that love thrown back upon herself, as a worthless thing. She spoke of the misery of the past and the little hope she had for the future, she told him how she had destroyed his letter, but kept the faded rosebud, and had not sung "Thy people shall be my peopeo," since she sang it to him.

Col.

So she blessed him, she gave him to God and his country, she kissed him for the first and only time in her life, and they parted. No promises were exacted, but both felt it would not be right for them to meet again. Keith's furlough lasted ten days, but he respected as well as loved Barbara, he was true to his best instincts and made no other attempt to see her.

Some weeks after this, in the midst of a long list destined to carry sorrow to many a hearthstone, we saw the name of "Major Landon, slightly wounded." His mother and Barbara were off on the first receipt of the The wound proved more serious than was reported; he had neglected it, spent half the night afterwards in a storm of snow and rain, attending to the comforts of his men; and when at last his wife reached him, she found they had been obliged to ampu

news.

They told her he would have to die, but she refused to believe it. She nursed him week after week, and at last he came back to consciousness, begged to be taken home, said he was sure he should live long enough to get there, and then he should be willing to die; the physcians gave consent, they knew it could not affect the result; one kind hearted surgeon himself accompanied them as far as Louisville, and so by slow stages they brought him back just when the war was almost over, and peace once more shining on the land.

It seemed as if half the people of Adrian were waiting at the station to welcome him. The hour was an early one, and it was Sunday morning. The crowd waited patiently for the train to come in, and for the few minutes that elapsed before it moved off again, leaving behind one car-that car they watched breathlessly till Judge Keith appeared. In a low voice he thanked them in the name of his nephew for this expression of their sympathy, told them their friend was much affected by being once more among them, and exhausted by his journey; would they be silent and make no attempt to speak to him?

So all stood reverently, with uncovered heads, while what was a mere shadow of the Will Landon they had known, was borne out in the light of the rising sun, and carried through the quiet streets where he had played as a boy, to Miss Jane's house, into the room where she had sat reading the Bible through all the years. Beside him Barbara had walked, not seeing any of us, never taking her eyes from her husband's face. From time to time she whispered to him softly; her hand was clasped in his, but though his cheeks were wet she had no tears to shed. She never gave up her post through all the sad days that followed: she was jealous of anything done for him by another's hand, even his mother's. She persisted in talking of the time when he should be well again, would say she was sure he grew stronger.

Will used to answer that he had known from the first that he should never be well again; but when he saw how she was pained

wards the end sometimes sadly shook his head. The spring came on, the days grew longer and longer, and at last there came one when the windows were left wide open, the breezes came in as they would, bringing the sunshine, the song of birds and scent of blossoms; but he was not conscious of it, nor had he one word of comfort for the heartbroken woman by his side.

If you should ever go down to Adrian, you will be shown the tall monument that covers him, on which is engraved the long list of battles in which he took part-the love and pride of Judge Keith caused it to be erected. For some time I saw little of Barbara, for I imagined, whether justly or not, that it made her more unhappy to meet me. Then peopie began to shake their heads when Mrs. Landon's name was mentioned: say that her mother had died of consumption, that she was going the same way, that her devotion to her husband had hastened the day. The fear that there was truth in what they said, carried me back to Barbara. I found her not the least concerned about her health, but evidently she was glad to have me coming and going in the old fashion. She told me once when speaking of Will, that he never once betrayed the disappointment his married life must have been to him; but that he had said he should like to see dear old Robert, and that sometimes he had fancied she might have had a happier lot if she had not taken compassion upon him.

Straightway I began building up anew the air-castles so rudely demolished six years before, but it was some time before I had a foundation for them. Col. Keith had come home when the war was over, accepted the worship of Adrian for a short time, and then gone off again. At the close of Barbara's first year of mourning he appeared again among us. Then she faced the great temptation of her life. In his estimation it was not yet too late, they might still find the happiness so long denied them. He had never ceased for a single day to love her, he pleaded with just as much earnestness now, she was as dear to him now that she was a faded woman as in the days of her girlhood. He would take her abroad, away from the place where she had endured so much health would come to her again.

Barbara refused, and all the inducements he could offer failed to move her. I suspect it was the recollection that she had confessed her love while her husband was away on those southern battle-fields where he found his death, that influenced her. She must make atonement, she had been faithless then, she would be faithful now. At any rate, her decision was given in a manner that left him no hope.

Robert told her she condemned him to exile that he would not and could not stay where she was - be compelled to see herto hear her name mentioned; if he had done any good in the world, anything for which men praised him, it had been done for the sake of her approval; now he should try no longer, he did not care what became of him, she might believe anything she heard of him, any stories which came to her, no matter how bad they were. He had wanted to give his life to her, she could have made it what she wished, but she had thought it too poor a gitt to accept, therefore it was a useless, a wasted she might reflect that she was respon

one sible.

I don't think Barbara got much comfort from her sacrifice, but I am certain of this much if she had had it to do over again she would have done just the same. For my part I think it was a mistake. She owed consideration to the living love as well as to the dead husband. She told me of Col. Keith's proposal, of her refusal, then she never mentioned his name again.

Stories did come to us, as he had prophesied, speedily enough. He had become very dissipated, was squandering his fortune, so they said; he was in New York, in New Orleans, here, there, everywhere, then he vanished. Wherever he is, on the Western plains, the forests of South America, the wilds of Africa, or in any of the gay European Capitals when the tidings reach him that all that was mortal of Barbara Landon is under the sod, he will suffer more than any of those whose tears were privileged to flow as they stood by her open grave, and the comforting words, "I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, write, blessed are the dead who die in the Lord, even so saith the spirit, for they rest from their labors," fell upon their ears.

Cousin Sue heard the story out and made no comment until I asked if it had interested her as much as she had imagined it would.

"Yes, I was interested, but a little disappointed. The soul I saw looking from those eyes never found expression here; her life was not worthy of her, she did not find the straight and narrow path. I hope she is walking in it now, clothed anew and in her right mind. I cannot withhold my sympathy, but it goes out to her from impulse, not from my better judgment; sober reason condemns, though pity softens the verdict, for I know that any womanly woman, who so tramples on the best instincts of her nature, must suffer much. If she really loved Col. Keith, how could she stand up in the sight of God and vow to love, honor and obey,' another? If I had been in your place I should have been tempted to say that I knew a just cause why those two should not be lawfully joined together.' Do you suppose if she had confessed to Major Landon that she not only did not love him but did love his cousin, he would have insisted on marrying her? She was not brave enough, truthful enough to do that. Instead, she accepted the heart, the name, the fortune of an honest man, she had even his honor in her keeping, and how did she guard the trust? She began her married life with a lie, her first act in the home his love had given her was one of deceit, she was not strong enough to resist the first temptation that assailed her; at her first meeting with Col. Keith she confessed her love, which was then a crime, and which it appears to me she had cherished all these years, in place of trying to conquer it. The poor Major! One of our country's martyrs I could weep for him, though we cannot call that life wasted which was offered a sacrifice for many. It is comforting to the faith I have in women, in men, in human nature, which I believe in the main to be full of excellence, dignity and purity, that at last Barbara came to have some appreciation of the treasure she had had, even as she lost it, and that she did not consent to rest the foundations of her future happiness on a grave." I made no attempt to defend my friend, but I thought what need there is that we all should pray, "Lead us not into temptation."

What one of us has such belief in our own moral excellence and goodness, that we can say of the crimes or mistakes of any fellow creature, that in his place we would have resisted the evil?

A CHRISTMAS CAROL FOR OUR BABY.

BY MARIA R. BAKER.

Crisp and white

Lay the early snow, Kirtling the earth

In a Christmas glow; When, two years agone, In the purple morn, Joy to our hearts

With the day was born.

In the soft hush

Of the brooding night, Angels went gathering

The threads of light; Down through the deeps Of the heavenly blue, Coming and going

All the night through. Naught but a dream

Of all beautiful things — Naught but the ripple

Of unseen wings

Heard we, and yet

We knew at the dawn,

Angels that way

On their errands had gone. For thus it was

On a Christmas morn, Joy to our hearts

With our child was born.

Light as a fairy's

The fall of her feet, Robin ne'er warbled

A song so sweet, Cheek of the lily Was never more fair, Gold of the sunshine Sleeps in her hair. Cara, Carissima! — Lovelier eye Never gave back

The blue of the sky. And over all

Is a nameless grace,

his eye the Almighty presented himself as the great upholder and benefactor of the universe, his heart burst out in a song of thanksgiving and praise.

"I will extol thee, my God, O King, and I will bless thee forever and ever. Every day will I bless thee, and 1 will praise thy name forever and ever. Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised, and His greatness is unsearchable. One generation shall praise thy works to another, and shall declare thy mighty acts. The Lord is gra

豪 *

*

cious and full of compassion, slow to anger, and of great mercy. The Lord is good unto all, and his tender mercies are over all his works. ** * All thy works shall praise thee, O Lord, and thy saints shall bless thee. The eyes of all wait upon thee, and thon givest them their meat in due seaThou openest thine hand and satisfiest the desire of every living thing."

son.

No existing and palpable facts could give a higher conception of the divine benevolence than is here exhibited. God is represented as sitting amidst his sentient creation, with all their wants and their wishes active in them. To Him, as their great Benefactor, as the infinite Source of all blessing, they turn their eyes. On the motion of his hand they wait for their daily food. That hand the Creator opens, and lo! the desires of every living thing are satisfied. The myriad forms of life upon the earth have abundant provision for their wants.

How broad, how comprehensive, how rich and watchful, must be that benevolence which thus provides for the necessities of a