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 Ule'g Joaraey. t 1 the ?»« for this J)'rao« nOway ^^^Btatotunod. of night: •^JfiHrf With iepioi»«» Md feu*. «ithUit9 dijcomf orts *nd dugen. «..neelnotb3«dof.f»ld. ^, le^iDg from (Urk into iMrkn* ^^ plunging from gloom to daq ffiad out thro- the tunnel* of mldBlght Ta the field* that are blooming ud f»if; the recks and their shMlows iunfonnd oa, ' Tho' we c»tch not one gleam of the d»y. Above M f"' «*•" " laughing A,«ldiTin?fWt«"etta« « V Oovrn ovj r t M walla in the weet, «,e Urt fio»l 6°" o' °"' J"""" Ih«re Ue« the great SUtion of KMt the grand central point of all i»flw»y« ill n»As cluster here where they end â- li, the final resort of all tourtat.; ^Ij fival lines meet here and blend. All tickets, or mile-booki, or paaaes. U stolen, or begged for or bought, 00 whatever ro»d or divirion, tin bring you at last to this spot. If yon p»a8« at the City of Trouble, OrwMtintheVaUeyofTear^ Be p»tient-the train wiU move onmrd. And sweep down the track cf the years. Wherever the place is yoB seek for. Whatever yonr aim or your quest, VM will come at the last with rejoioiBg To the beautiful Station of Rest. |SfOEMAIfD_SUNSHINE. CHAPTER 11I.-(C0KTINUE1.) ind this would be no imall sacrifice on Eyi*rt the future holds great posaibilt'ea Ifo-littlafair-haired Lisle Warbnrton. When of age I sball come into upwards of wtiiouMuid a year-even now I have two handred to do what I I'ke withâ€" more pretty j„BMi and furs than I can find any use for, Itrmkets and laces without end. My aunts .jceive three hundred a year for my main- iinaDce I might have a maid of my own if _. had not absnrdly decided that It was Ktter to make me attend upon myself. All this wealth had come to me most un- spectedly about ten years ago, my mother's t surriving brother having died in Aus- i very rich, and I being the sole descend- int of the Incledon family then extant. I a child at school near London at the Be but on my accession to fortune my I or trustees had transferred me to imnch more expensive school abroad, given Be an allowance, and one of themj who had I i friend of my uncle's, had had me to â-  honse in Paris daring the vacations. My nt, Mrs. Tom Incledon, the widow of an- iier of my mother's brothers, had hi herto ken sharge of me but she had died a few Bosthi previously, and I suppose I should â- re xmi to live at Osierbrook if this for- had not turned up in the meantime. D tiit, however my aunts may try to keep be is nibjectioa now, the day is not very r diatant when I shall be a person of some mportance. Iney do not care whether I even " come nt ' or not, whether I am presented at «urt, or have any of the advantages which y bnlliant " prospects " might have led tc expect in fact, I believe they would (much better pleased if I renounced the prld altogether, and made up my mind to !e:d the rest cf my life at Osierbrook; but |»n only biding my time. I am young lri:h, and " pretty," as old Mollle says. 'e same of Lisle Warburton shall make a iiation yet in the great world of fashion â-ºiioD my aunt, think only a little less hope. "ly given over to perdition than the lower poM themselves! 'ErroU, this is my little friend. Lisle Nbaton." I "Te just come into the great drawing-. «aia:Velfry, witha faint cUck clack of pSMled shoes, and a soft frou-frou of â- ^•^^en train, I have put on one of my "^â- ^ dinner-gownsâ€" a pale blue silk, ve8 my arms and shoulders bare ' "^^^e fastened a broad band of tnr- J o«t, with my fluflfy golden locks S »Wt my forehead, and a soft bright ,j, " "'y.o^wks. People tell me my fc. Jf* ""«n's face-so fair and inno- ^^^ inch a broad space between the 'Hr«i«f»ifcfJWBrg» iM| i »i lJ^ -»..:â- T3we^^.l^:la.!»»T^^, fknOg t dbSag-rooin.^' Thi* fint«T«aiiig a YaUg, ^twm m«» ddlgktfal foret-t. of thsTSmtTl^ P««J-d«,.d£ wh«iIdu«H iZatb^ the tediionabla world «£ which I had heard •ndw^butofwhkAIhad hMi«rto»sn nottiag. I bdiey* EaoVL R«th«f .rf UH in love with me at first right, widlkiiow that brfor» Igonpto mftoom «t cl«v« o dock I have lost as mnoh of my heart as it was possible to lose iu the ufmcn of four hours. I feel happier than I erer f«lt in my life before. I begin dimly to conpnhsad the great possibiUties tho world holds for me, to dream of what that wonderful thing called love may mean. I havo never even f anded that I cared for «X"Wi^:-r'WM»"^X-'iP^«* ' 0: "'â- "el am no "i and judge of my own ap- rj;^^«I think lam pretty, and I **y dr^fir* """** *°^ dim^ii. and 1 1 do joT 7*"'**° perfection. There- ^?^U^T^**U indisposed when i^jj^ introduces me to a taU and i»lto JJV*"'»Mred man In evening. S vi^ r^ "tandbg with her in the "55 opJ^' '°« "" »* «^ surprised "â- ^AZr^y eyes in a look of »W*'!.!^y»'» find this Dresden e^ jj^ not thmk anything so â- * *n*de ef real flesh and "iBU • I^«*erfurd smUes â- "•ttyott willgiy. her your any one yet except Judith â- ends a lltUe thrUl of something more than pleasure tiurongh my heart already to think ofErroU Rutherfnrd, to recollect how he had looked at me, how he had ^oken to me â€"not as to achfld, but as to a woman, gently, reverently, chivalrouslyâ€" I hadnever been so spoken to before in all my short ex- istenceâ€" to be treated like a princess by this man who himself seems like a prince. It is as novel as it is delightful, and has already gone a good way towards taming my little head. The next day we spend the delightful first hour after breakfast In the sonny old warden -Erroll and I he smoking, I walk- ing beside him down the long green alleys, and by the high wall where the cherries are ripening, io my pretty morning-dress of pale flowered chintz with pink bows, in which he says I look more like a china shep- herdess than ever, while the bees hum round us and the warm wind sighs by, laden with those " fitful blasts of balm that make tiie air of life delidous"â€" or so the Laureate says. " Do you remember Judith Irving, Mr. Ruthprfardf* '•Oh, yesâ€" quite well " he smiles, glanc- ing round at me. " She told me you had been playfellows as children." " So we were. But I did not think she took sufficient interest in me even to tell yon so much as that." " I don't know how much Interest she takes in you," I answer, laughing i " but I know you ought to fed flattered by her taldng the trouble to speak about yon at all." " I feel much more flattered by your re- membering what she said." " Do not yon like her T" I ask, looking up into the handsome smiling face. "Do your " Indeed I ioâ€" better than any one else in the world " He smfles at my earnestness. " Then I must not say anything agunst her?" ' Not to me, certainly But I don't be- lieve yon could say anything against her. The tilings people say of her are all false I* " What do they say of her " he asks a littie curiously. ' I am not going to tell yon. I dont know what they are saying. Btitstupidpeop'e who can't understand her talk a great deal of nonsense â€" ^the fsKst is she is too bright and clever for them, and sees too dearly through their miserable make-believes and hypocrisies. She is like a flash of dectric light turned suddenly on a ball-room, show- ing up all the wretched shams and pretenses wMch had passed muster In the deceptive rose-coloured glow of the oil-lamps " ' Bravo, Miss Lisle I wish I had a friend to stand up for me like that " 'Judlth does not want anyone to stand up for her," I answer, flushing. "And she does not care a fig what ignorant, stupid prejudiced old people think of her she has told me so a hundred times." "I must renew my acquaintance with this friend of yours," Enroll laughs, knock- ing the ash ofiF his cigar. "She must be something out of the common to have won such a warm little partisan." " I wish Mrs. Rutherfurd would ask her to Velf ry I" I exclaim impetuoudy. " If she took her up a littie, my aimtsâ€" and other peo pieâ€" could soon follow her example." " Miss Irving used to come here oocadon- ally before I went to China. Does she never come now " " She has never been here since I came to Oderbrook, at all evdits." " You might persuade my mother to ask her perhaps She would do a great deal to please yon." " She is very go«»d to me," I answer, smiling. "But I wond«r why she never asks Judith hero now!" "IwOltdl yon what I think," ErroU returns gravdy. " I fancy my motiier had an idea that Miss Irving was setting her cap at my teoUier Ralphâ€" atlaart I tiiought so before I went toChina three yowa ago. And, as I snppose you are awaro that no mother ever thinks any girt good enough forhorson, my respected paimt disoonr. aged Miss Judith's visits to Tdfiy. That at least is the only sohitiani can find l«r thesBigma. I novsr askfld my motiMr any qnesfeioas on the sabject, nor did she v«i^ snfs any inteaatisn. B(^ tiilnk I oannot dsnyilMprolMUifty bdng soBwfsndation forEmO'h Jaditti had said dM woald rather ttro d»U a. It I,, than anywlMra dse intlM worid. She b]« sossm like a person who has a secretâ€" who oases for, orhas oandfw, â- Â«Â»abody very mnoh. Bat tten Mr. Batii- •rf««rfhsa married bdoto diowas grown np. and had been oonfeasedly heartiwokoi as a widower ever sfaM*. lamsuprisod at Jodith's throwing her heart away npon a asan who apparently n«itiisr dssirsdnor deservsd it. And yet â- keis jus»ths kindol girl who would he oapabTe of such an aet of self -inundatioa- of just sndi « mad, vain, foolish, obstinate, Irving; but it mrfortunate, peaoe-destotyying paadonâ€" of iS«a^« *H«^ t. "itia^ a««m1b a L.^m..1 1 just such a hopeless lovo. " Shall we have a game of tennis T Erroll asks a moment later, throwing away his cigar. We saunter round to the tennis-court between the double row of walnut-trees, and whfle I am wdting for Enroll to fetch the racqueUMrs. Rutherford comes out of the house, followed by a rather slight, dark- oomplexioned man with a short gray beard. " This Is my ddest son, Lide," she says, smiling gravdy and Mr. Rutherfurd shakes hands with me, and then stands quietiy by with his hands in his poc- ets, while his mother talks to me, looking away at the old sun-did on the grass-plot bdore the door. CHAPTER IV. The next few days at Vdfry are the happiest I have ever known. Even now^ " My heart is like a praphst to my heart, And tells me I shaQ lore.' Erroll Rutherf ard Is di{|kys with meâ€" we ride, row, play tennis, walk together the long June days are dl too short for osâ€" the June days with their glorious mornings, their long delidous afternoons, their dreamy eveninjjs. Even at night I lie awake thinking of him and going over and over again all the fond sweet things he had sud to me during the day. The likmg that we had f e't for each otiier on that very first evening has deepen- ed into a warmer feelingâ€" we are never happy unless we are together, never satis- fied unless we are looking at or listening to each other. Mrs. Rutheriurdis pleased at the fancy Erroll and I have taken to each other. She never tells me, but I can see it in the happy contented expreadon of her eyes when she looks at us I know she arranges tiie amusements of each day with tmt one aim in viewâ€" that ErroU and I shall enjoy tiiera together. Mr. Rutherford very sddom joins as, or t»kespartin any itnt- rtalnmimt that msy begoBgmiat Vslfry. Issshimat hreak- fast and dlnnari and ouoadond'yin the drawing-room after dinner, hot seldfpto at any ^«p time. Be iq^pears to he a itiave, reserved kind of man, and, whetheir he is dlil ftettlhg for his ycdng wife, or irhether sooh things possess no interest for him, eschews our boating and tennis parties with a persistence which amuses his younger brother. " Rdph is turning into a regular odclity " he laughs, on one of these occadons. " I think we must ask Miss Irving to Yelfry to rouse him out of his apathy." " I wish we could," i answer, sighing. I ave not seen Judith for six days, and, not- withstanding my new delidous sense of hap- piness, I pine for a glimpse of my friend. " Next time you come, we must manage it," Erroll says good-natoredly. We are following the rest of the party down through the pleasure-grounds to the river, Erroll in white flannel boating cos- tume, I In a pretty serge dress turned up with my favorite l^ht blue. We are going to row ourselves down to an island where there are the ruins of an old abbey the servants have gone before with our loncheon. It is a glorious morning, " the cuckoo tdli his name to dl the hills." " I believe you would rather have Miss Irving here than me, Lide I" Erroll says, in his boyish, aggrieved way, turning to look at me as we walk down the mossy path under the yews and laurds. "I haveknown her the longest," I answer coquettishly, withoiit meeting his eyes. "Bat that has nothing to do with it. I have known Miss Irving longer than I have known you, and does that make me like her better?" " Forfaaps you do like her better " 'Lide!" I smile, but will not look at him, though I know he is looking at me, " Yon are the most horrid little girl I ever " I am sonry yoo think so." "Bat I don't think so, fwtunatdy. I tUnk yoo are the deares t " Aooi^ ahead ti as stop tosak some- tiifa^ aboot tiio way. Errollnever finishes fab ssntenoe hot •* A void eaa Mac the celopir to aiy (teiA A wasd.0Ma fln sajr eyas with hvnr dsw." Erzdl loves ms and I lovs him. The fhonglit makes me inloleBahty Iisppfâ€" so happylhatl hsarand sss e s n r yUdng Hke one in adrssptâ€" tihk koilitec^ fb» Uoss^, tiwbraadsUid^ «iT« ttefaany face*. islHlai^aMsaEasIL Hs in Us wUls dtss^ withhii gsgf fMaandfdreolsdfasir hanging abont his fetoksad asks pdls Hbm hsavy honkâ€" hwtihsadsd, Msdss v es toUsd op to fais elbows, Us Una eiyss lani^rfng aft ms. An hoor or two Isftsr I And myssif sittfsc beside him on lbs edgs of Iks BtaMHii whm it rons nairowty batwesn tim aaalnhndand the island, brown and foamtngovsr Hebsnsd rooks and boolders. As ws dl^ we osn sse op a long vista of leaf-diodsd pools, with shafts el s a n s hine g Hmm s rln gdown throggh thelnanohss andpiodng gddan throogh the waterâ€" the soond of ths watsr is all the soond we bear, if indeed we hear it, being so antirdy oooiqpied with looking at each other. *• We looked ea tlM bnem haok. We looked on the hnm. And riddoBf we lodkid oa Eaoh other in tum.^ "I wonder if you are as happy as I am, Lisler' "I am happy enough," I answer with trutii. " Yon are a dear littie thing to say so " " Why fâ€" " Oh, becanse " He is lying, face downwards, polUng daides me by one out of the soft torf " That is no reason " I laugh, looking at the rushing golden-brown water dose to my foot " I wonder If you care for me as moch as I care for yoo !* He Is throwing a daisy into the watsr as he says It, and he does not look at me. " That depends oitirdy upon how much you care for. me!" I laugh, watching the daisy as It Is caught In an eddy and whirled round and round between two of the brown boulders. "Have you ever cared for anybody else, Llde!Vâ€" ««No." " Perhaps you do not really care for me so much as you think " "VeryUkdynot." " You provoking little thing " he laughs raising himself on his elbow. "I believe you are thinking of Judith Irving this very moment." " I Imagine you think of her more than I do," I answer a little jealously. "I? I hate her!" " You just say that to vex me." " I do not want to vex you but I do not like you to be dways thinking of that girl. " I often reproach myself for not thfnfcfa g of her more. I have been so happy at Vdfry." " Have you, da^Ung " he Interrupts, with a look which sends a thrill of paadonate pleasure to my very .heart. " How many questions yoa ask !*' I laugh, shrugging my shotilders. " I mean to ask yon another before very long," he smiles quietiy. " I think I hear somebody calUng us " I exclaim a little hurriedly. ** Perhaps we had better go back to the otheis." " I suppose it is that wretched Trevor 1" he laughs, getting up Isdly. Th*t fellow is always spoiliag the fun for other people â€"I suppose because he can't knock up any for himself." We saunter back to the othets, or to all that are forthcoming of. the others, camped in a sunny hollow under the ruins. And I feel hapider than ever, find more than ever inclined to look upon it all as a dreain from which I must some tiaie awaken â€" such pas- sionate happiness cannot be meant.to last But, If it does last, how can people call this a miserable world One such hour as this, I think, could make my whole life sweet. We finish the evening with a dance at Vdfry, at which Mr. Rutherfurd puts in an appearance, though he does not dance. I do not think I shall ever forget this n^ht, or the waltzes they ^lay the periume of heliotrope must dways remind me of itâ€" I wear a knot el heliotrope in my white dress, fastened on the shoulder â€" ^tiiat and the string of pearls round my throat my only ornaments. Erroll dances with me very oftenâ€" one especially glorious waltz we have together, and when it is over we step out with the others through the open French windows on to the long terrace of smooth turi overlook- ing the garden. The air is warm and full o the perfume of the flowers, the moon is rising serendy over tiie woodland, touching the house and garden with a dlvery glimmer, but scarcdy bright enough to disoem " who Is who" of the shsdowy groups about tiie terraceâ€" certainly not bright ooogh to re- Ted us to any one but each other as we lean over tiie stone bdoony listening to tiie mono and breatiiing in long draughts of the dalioioas nl|^t air. "Lisle ^^»'H"g I think you love me a littie!" ms arau are ronnd me, his face stooped to minsk pale in the light of tiie moon. "Lide,tdlme. Isittraer' I let him hdd me so, oloss to Ills heart. I stamd tilers fat a moasanti dnmb •• WItti psrfaol J07, psq^taxsd ler oMsBBOos. Bathe makes ms say it at last And so we linger in the moonlight a littlo koger, mormoxing, "I know not what «f strange and sweet," and exehanf^ 'To«% iA«s thsse is Dtvimeed o T0w% m ttie hsait sa oa» wfld Isip fiam an ydsstiaai, as akeve jM«slr«Blqr|lMns^BlSb^ i (TO BB OORTanTKD.) ^^ ' ZHIBimOFQOD. Iks bOile is tbs bast book in Iks wsrid.-' JehnAdsoa. Thevs Isn book worik aU oiksr boobs wbloh wars ever printed.â€" Patriak Heniy. The faihla fomUies tte 0^ fitting Tshidn te eqprsss tka Aoo^ta that orerwkslm as whm oonftassplattaig Oe stellar adverse.â€" O. M. MitohdL Ths grand dd book ot God stiU stands, and thb eld earth, the mors ita Isaves ars tuned over and posidered, tiie more it will snslain and iliostrate the saorsd word.â€" PwL Dana. AU human JUsoeveries ssem to be mads only for the porposs of confirming m»e snd mors skrongly the troths oont dn s H in the sacred scriptnrss.â€" Sir John HeneheL In my invsstigaticm of natard soisnce, 1 have always found that whenever I can meet with anything in theldble on my subjects, it dways affords me a firm platform on which to stand.â€" Lleot Maory. So great Is my veneration for tiie bible thai tiie earlier ny children begin to read it the more confident wiU be my hopes that tiiey wiU prove osefd dtizens to thsir coon- try, and re^ecteble members of society. â€" John Q. Adams. It is Impopible to govern the world with- oot Ood, He mast be w«rse than an infldd that Uoks fdti^ and mors than wicked that has not gratf tade enoogh to aeknowledge Us obligation. â€" George Washington. If the God of love is most appropriately woraUped in the temple of rdigion, the God of nature may be equaUy honored In the temple of sdence. Even from ita lofty min- areto the phUoso|^er may summon the fdth- fdto prayer, and the priest and sage ex- change dtara withoot the eompnanlae of fdth or knowledge.â€" Sir David Brewster. The Decay of Fzoiani^' From having been the loudest and ooaraest of swearers, English gentiemen have become the most intolerant of profane expresdons, and even the nuldest expletives are acoount- ed by tiiem as bad taste. Sddiers and saU- ors formerly looked upon swearing as a pro; feadond neoesntv, and perhaps stiU do so but probably a r. an like Wolseley shares the feeling of other English gentiemen with re- spect to profanity, and we know that Grant went tiirough aU the excitement of the cIvU war without an oath, though on both ddes the air was often blue with cursing. But, as we have sud, most men swear habituaUy or oooasioiiaUy. Itssems togivethemreUef^or tiiey imagine that it does, and they know no o*' er way of strengthening an assertion than b^ using an oath. In general, this swearing is in good nature, or, at most, expresses only momentary vexation, and often the profan- ity Is only hidalged In as a banter, for in- stance, by th* drivers in the streets, who wlU corse each other op and down, and stiU have no hard fseUnga. They simply swear for f on and to va'y the monotony of exist- ence. This applies ody to this ooontry tboogh. In England one can moont npon a 'bos at the .Kensiogton Museum, and drive through the g-wtt and crowded thoroughfares of London, aU the way to the Bank of England, and not an oatii nor an expletive wiU be heard. Beligion and Fties. " I wodd give nothing for tiiat man's re- ligion whose dog and cat are not the better for it, " sud Rowland HUl. UnUff adds: "Why not add cne's flies? Shdl we kiU themâ€" or take a moment longer, open the window, and banish them Into the great out- ride summer? The difference is no trifle dther to the flies or us. To the flies It is the diffsrenoe between life and death. To us it is the difference of our religion and Irrdiglon. It isn't ourrellglon wUch wiU dash from life the harmless buzzers; their crime, a littie an- noyance their penalty; death. 'D j yoa want to see 'oor Dod, 'ittle flyf said the 3-year- old, who hdd her captive In one hand, while she raised the other: 'Oo s'aU see 'oor Dodâ€" there!' and down came the hand, slapping It out of exirtenoe. Tliat God we caU a devil, and we pity the Uttie chUd whose home-creed taught It deviltry for divinity. But if that sort of tiiought wodd make God adevil, that sort of act In ua^ is not rdigion. The White Feather. It Is weU known that the phrase, "To show the white feather," is a synonym for cowardice, and it is said that no gamecock has a white feather. This expressicn must formerly have had a difiEsrent meaning, as it arose during the war between tiie early set- tiers and the North Amarioan Indians. A Qoaksr, who vsfossd to fly for safety, on day aawa band of Indians swooping down npon Uf home. As the teneta of Us fdth woold not allow him to reosive tksm witii a ToUsy of powder sndball, be invited them in, and set food baiore them. Jh* good, bflsrty msd so softansd ths savage lieart that, on leaving, the oUsf fastened m wbitt feather on the door as a badge of friendship and peace. Althoogh after thienuuty savage bandspasssJ that dwdUng, none ever vio lated the traatyby iqjoring the brass or its luuialea, 4 •OUUi«e is a1|F^ttai:lpilildif«ko plea- siMi«C Tontii M ffiilt « dsstii. %M^' ".5- n i I *•â-  r, M t It i iiii- ij li' 11 'Hi "if i\ I Si" •^JMii