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Mr. Denison agreed with him. From that moment his fate was decided. Ken- net’s Green was L0 be his home. From Ken- neL’s Green he would thunder forth Lhe trutu to an unconverted World. on a salary of fifty pounds a. year. The artisan’s cottage was heucefornh in be called the Parsonage, and the chapel dignified with the name of Evangelical Universalis- tic Church. Mr. Bingley insisted upon these names. “ You won’t catch the pol“- lace, sir, if you don't have a big sounding name." he said. “ It can’t. be too big and it can’t be too long for 'em. ‘ \Vliat’s in A name ‘3' you say, as Milton or some of them chaps said afore you. Why, says I, every- think’s in a name. The people flocks to a name like flies to a honey-pot." the :6 flock had “ Well, Sir Roland was a. big pot out in India, and got a. handle to his name there Governor or something. I don't know no- think about ’em, except that: they’re a skinny lot. A cousin of theirsâ€"a. i'ellow that was always at their houseâ€"mu away with old Neave’s daughter some years ago, and then deserfed her ; ever hem that, sir? That little girl was their child.” “ Ah ! \Vill the Malena provide for her?" Mr. Denison was interested in hearing this morsel of gossip regarding the origin of Phillis \Vyast. _.___V; ... “ Not they. Old N’eave wouldn't take help from them, even if he wanted it. But he’s a warm man, uld Neave. Close-fisted too, and can hold his tongue. I don’t. sup- pose the Malets even know that Harry \Vyacc's daughter lives in Woodbury.” “ They are all church people, I suppose ‘3” â€"as if making an accusation. “ Every man-jack of them, sir. They’re a, bigoted lot, and will hunt us down if they possxbly can. Like the place, Mr. Denison? “’9. can do the chapel up a. bit, you know. I don’t like $0 see the sunctu‘ry in ruins. But we’ll mend all than” so much ; me,” said shake of } I’ll stand do, ” said to be av fished ch to have “ Yofi‘ll catch the Kersham people," said Mr. Biugley. “ There’s a lot, of ’em don’t go to Kersham church. But it’s a. haristocratic sort ot a place, is Ker- shame ; the pore villagers is led by the nose, what: with the Vicar, and the Squire, and the doctor’s families, and my lord liv- ing close by. Lord Kersham, that is. His place is between Kersham and Woodbury. He ain’t at home much: but Lady Kerslmm does the soupchariby business and visiEs the schools. Then there’s the Squireâ€"Mr. Malet, he‘s a queer lot, ; and his younger brother, Sir Rolandâ€"mid thing’ for the younger brother to be a. Sir, and the elder one plain ML, ain’t it '3” “ How is that ?” asked Mr. Denison “ How absepiciiy. flatini'his inanly chest. “ I don’t mean to go to the chapel any more, to have old Neave and Fairbairn crowing over me. If you won’t be our pastor, sir, I’ll go to church." It was perhaps this dire threat that van- quished Mr. Denison. He yielded, and thought that be discerned the finger of God in the grocer’s spite. He went to look at the hamlet, which was known as Kennet’s Green. The Green was a rhomboid of com- mon, surrounding a. yellow pond, where ducks and geese disported themselves as they do in Caldecott’s pictures; pollard willows borderel it at regular intervals, and behind the willows stood neat little houses in gardens bright with red and white daisies, yellow daffodils, and wall- flowers. Some of the houses were fairly large and some were mere cottages. One of them, of medium size, was empty. and could be rented for twenty pounds a year, which Bingley, the grocer, offered to pay. Kennet’s Green was not in Woodbury par- ish ; it formed part of the parish of Ker- sham, a village between \Voodbury and Kennet’s Greenâ€"half a mile only from the Green. but a mile and three~quarters from \VoodburVâ€"and it had no church ofits own. The litt‘e deserted chapel stood in a. hollow near the Green. It was a low~ roofed, miserable-looking place, overgrown with creepers, shadowed darkly by trees. poisoned by rank odors from astagnant pond close by. To come from the preteri- tious red-bricked chapel building on the breezy W'oodbury heights to the tumble- down little Bethel in a miasmatic swamp wasa fall indeed. Still Kennet’s Green was supposed to be a healthy place. he Denisans drove away from the yellow- brown door of the narrow red-brick house in perfect silence. Esther thought with regret of the comfortable rooms. the garden full of roses, even of “the cross cat " that she had tried to love. As the cal) rolled through the quaint Woodbury streets, now half obscur- ed by driving sheets of rain, past the square red chapel, to which they had said good-by for ever, Mr. Denison leaned back in his seat and put his hand over his eyes. A sudden fear assailed him. Had he been wrong or right? He could not tell. Esther was gazing out of the window. Margaret Denison took courage. She put out her trembling hand and laid it on her husband's knee, in a mute caress. He took it in his own and clasped it closely, forget- ting to suspect ner motive. secure in a new consciousness of her comforting pity, her hardly entreated love. His heart rose a little within him. Hardship and poverty they might encounter; but at any rate they were going to meet it hand in hand. He brushed a tear from his eyes and tried to smile. CHAPTER VII. AT THE D0\\'ER HOUSE. “ We must run glittering like a brook In the open sunshine, or \vcare unblcst: 'l‘hc wealthiest man among us is the best." WORnswoRrH. A nearly level road led from Kennet’s Green to Kersham, between rows of tall elm-trees and hawthorn hedges, behind which a park on the one side, meadows on the other, bespoke a tranquil solitude. Be- fore entering the village two large houses and their grounds were seen to face But other members of the congregation resolved to “ stand by" Mr. Denison. They liked his preaching, and they liked the man. They were headed by e. grocer of consid- erable wealth, who had long pined for of- ,fice and influence in the chapel. He called several meetings of sympathizers with the preacher, and led them to make a business- like proposition to him. There was a little disused meeting-house, once Baptist, once Unitarian, now almost in ruins, at a hamlet about two miles from \Voodbury ; they offered to take it, put, it into repair, and guarantee him, at any rate, one year’s modest salary, if he would become their pastor. “ We want the Gospel, and we’re Willing to pay for it,” said the grocer, in- flating his manly chest. “I don’t mean to go to the chapel any more, to have old Neave and Fairbairn crowing over me. If you won’t be our pastor, sir, I’ll go to church." The congregation split into two parties Over Mr. Denison’s retirement. One, heari- ed by Mr. Fairbairn and Mr. Neave, was for cutting at}r all connection with the here- tic as soon as possible. Somebody spoke to Mr. Fairbairn about the minister's future life, and asked what. were his prospects. Mr. Fairbairn delivered himself of an au- swer with a. pithy promptibude which could not be surpassed. “ Prospects, my dear sir ?” be said. “ Prospects? Hi5 prospects are to go to hell.” And With a wave of his hand he dismissed the preacher to his doom. Mrs. Fairbaim went away angry, saying that that; Denisou woman was a. proud, stuck-up creature, who would soon have be eat humble pie. But this did not prevent her from coming again, when the DeDIFODS were leaving \Voodbury, and with tears and sighs and Inineubations thrusting aten-pound note int!) Esther's hand with injunctions to give it to her mother and say nothing about, it to anybody else. 77 She was especially to be sure tine Mr. Deuison did fiat heir of it uriously ' Never stand t s In like mai CHAPTER VI.~â€"(C0.\‘TI (I. name. The people flo flies to a honey-pot.” ‘raid that I shan’b attra the simile’s an ominous Mr. Denisou, with a smi KERSHAM MANOR. at my meant .vly estab- ant, sir am I can - them he fur M] can .xry his AT THE DO\VEB “0179K “ We must run glittering like a brook In the opensunshino, or wear-c unblcst: The wealthiest man among us is the best." Wonoswonrn. A nearly level road led from Kennet’s Green to Ker-sham, between rows of tall elm-trees and hawthorn hedges, behind which a. park on the one side, meadows on the other, bespoke a tranquil solitude. Be- fore entering the village two large houses and their grounds were seen to face each other on e‘ither side of the road. One. the smaller and sooner reached, was of red brick, ivy and clematis draped; the grounds Wcre exquisitely kept, but screened from the vulgar eye by lofty pslings and a hedge. The privacy of the other house was still more strictly pre- served. A high brick wall hid it so com. pletely that nothing but a row of upper easements and a sloping roof with stacked chimneys and dormer Windows could be seen. The high wall enclosed a courtyard, a small flower-garden beneath the windows of the. house, and the house itself, behind which the grounds and park stretched away for some distance. This house, a red-brick mansion with white windows. was known far and wide as Kersham Manor. The smaller building facing it was called the Dower House and belonged to the Malets, but was at present occupied by their cousin, Mrs. La Touche, whose husband was at a military station in India. Passing by these houses, a triangular open space was reached, flanked by small shops, the church on a piece of rising ground, and the churchyard. The base of this triangle was formed by a long white road, which in one direction went up-hillto VVoodbury, and in another wound between two long straggling lineszof cottages to the open country. Build- ings were dottedabout for some distance also along tne Woodbury road, but they did not form a continuous line. The saddler’s shbp the blacksmith’s forge, the village schools and a few cottages stood on the one hand : the village inn upon the other, with garden and bowling-green attached. The larger shops adorned the sides of the triangle; they were mostly red-brick buildings of the pseudo-picturesque order. In the village streets and back lanes the houses were of paler hue and less conventional pattern. The Vicarage stood on higher ground near the church, and scarcely a glimpse of its rose-clad gray Walls and brown roof could be obtained from the village street. From the height on which it stoodâ€"a. height crowned by a fir plintation which gave the whole scene a strong- ly marked background of shadow â€" Kersham could be Viewed, lyingsnuqu in a hollow, with its warme tinted, dark-red} roofs embasomed in clustering green. rIhe ‘ church-spire seemed to dominate the valley; there was a silvery gleam of water, an im- pression of purple hill country in the dis- tance. It was a homely, sylvan scene,such as grows very dear to the hearts of those i Whose fathers have lived and died beneath 1 those humble roofs, and lie in serried ranks beneath theshade ol theivy-mautled church. ‘ It called up ideas of resc, oi perpetuity. The whole world might change : kingdoms ‘ be lost and won ; but Kersham would always be the same. So Sir Roland Malet thought when he came home after a sojourn of twenty years in the far East. He had judged and gov- erned; he had been almost a king in his, own domain ; he had written books and achieved a European reputation -, and now he had come back to his native soil. to the It was on a very wet afternoon in June that. the Denisons left \Voodbury. The min had fallen all day: it, came down steadily, Bersistemly, as if in never would leaveA off. Escher and Phillis met no more for a time. Phil was taken away to the seaside by her grandmother, and could not walk so far as to Kennet’: Green when she came back. So the children’s friendship slumbered. if it did not die. In their previous career chairs and tables had been always provided for them. But Mr. Bingley and his wile loyally did their best. They sent of their own household stuff all that they could spare, and others did the like. It used to make Mrs. Deni- son cry when poor men and women, who had “got good" under her husband's preach- ing, as they said, came with hunble offerâ€" ings of pots and pans, mg carpets, and cushions filled with goose-feathers, a hop- pillow, or a. darned and netted antimacas- sar, because they had heard of their minis‘ ter’s destitution. Mrs, Sims, the char- womeu, brought a big wooden spoon. There were some costlier gifts, without name, which Mrs. Denison fancied must have come from Mrs. Fairbaim ; but of this she could never be sure She returned the ten pounds which the corn dealer’s wife had given to Esther. She was a. meek woman in appearance ; but she had her pride. She might take gifts from th03e who loved and were grateful to her husband; but she could not take money from the wife of her husband’s enemy. She was jealous for his honor, although she did not sympathize. with his peculiar views. chapel. Those whom he Carrie for the most part illiterate me! chance of making themselves ll So the Danisous removed {rm to Kennet’s Green. They ha. furniture to put in their cottage In their previous career chair a same. land Maleb thought when he fter a sojourn of twenty years st. He had judged and qov~ lived for generations. had been, and used to the eried away we men Who saw as important. twenty years Lged and gov. a. king in his an books and 'ion ; and now ve soil, to the rn, where his generations. where W not DO like me to In“ dad and the ‘ oi the prayer daughter growing up,these were things to be considered. At presentNiua. wasonly twelve not a great age, but at seventeen a girl is certainly marriagenble. Mrs. La. Touche wanted N ms. to marry well,and marry early. There were three more girls coming on, Cecily, who was four, and the twms of two years old, Dolly and May. Her boyvbahies had died, and fourdaughters, in thesedays, were really something of a. luxury .’ Mrs. Lu. ’l‘ouohe sometimes said that positively she must have them all taught a trade, so that they might never be a burden on dear papa. ' She was still a pretty womanâ€"especially in the evening. She looked well,too,a.s she reclined in her basket-chair in the shade of the beech-tree, with her rose-lined hat drawn forward over her white forehead. She had very beautiful eyes, dark and velvety; but the lines about them told a. tale of years that she would fain have ob- literated. Her face was delicate,but slightâ€" 1y wrinkled; her mouth straight as a line, with colorless thin lips. Her dress was be- coming, and as youthful as it could decent- ly be made for a woman of her age. Lean- ing back in her chair and playing with the rings on her white fingers, or the ivory paper‘cutter that lay between the pages of the lust Fortnightly (Mrs. Lil Touche was nothing if she were not “advanced”~in a. ladylike way), she looked the embodiment of peace and refinement, and an utter con- trast to the caller who sat opposite to her. lib wk t/hl It was not to mean entire idleness, how- ever. Sir Roland said that the boy should have a. tutor. Hence came a diseussmu in the shade of the beech-trees on the Dower House lawn, one September afternoon. Mrs. Ln. Touche liked to have tea. out-of-doors. She had a pretty gor- den, aud was always complimented on her flowers. A shady gardenâ€"hat be- came her, and a scarlet parasol set off the complexionâ€"always an advantage. Indeed there were many advantages in having tea. in a. garden. One could stroll about, or isolate oue’s‘ self with a. congenial companion. Men were less stitf out of doors than in a. drawing-room. With a. daughter growing up,these were things to be ab Sir Roland returned from India when the boy was thirteen years old. and from time to time tutored him a little and made a. companion of him a great deal. Sebastian was devoted to his Uncle Roland. He was very fond of the Squire too. a. hale, white- liaircd man of sixty, a thorough country gentleman, with whom he had walked and ridden and hunted as long as he could re- member; but his affection for Sir Roland was the adoring sort; he believed in him, adopted his modes of speech and thought, clung to him with all the affection of his nature. It was always a. dark day for the two men as well as for Sebastian when the boy had to go back to school after the holidays. And although neither of them would have lifted a finger to keep the boy at home for his own pleasure instead of sending him to the place where he would receive education befitting his position in the world,each was secretly d tlighted when the doctor informed them than Sebastian, alter a severe attack of the measles and whooping-cough during the summer holi- days, would be better at home for a few months than at school. He was not quite strong enough just yet for school life, the doctor said. The two uncles could not but be pleased at the prospect of keeping him to themselves a while. So Sebastian was at home, not ill in the least, only “re- quiring care,” which meant unlimited pct- ting from all who knew him. tion. Un revienl [ow‘om-s a, scs premters am- onrs. In later life he had become a student again. Hence perhaps his predilection for quiet, sleepy little Kersham and Kersham Manor, where he was now living the life of a. recluse. He was not the Squire of Kersham. There had once been three brothers, Stephen, Ro- land, and Goring Malet, and of these three Stephen was the eidestand the owner of the Manor. His wife had died early, leaving him childless. Roland had never married. Goring and his wife died young, bequeath- ing their only son, Sebastian, to his uncles’ care. The squire was fond of him and, it was supposed, would make him his heir. The boy was brought up at the Kershnm Manorand treated as the future musterof the place. At ten years old he had been sent to school. But school was not thought to suit him, and he was taken home again and committed to the care of private tutors until he was thirteen. Sir Roland did not despise or hate the conflicts of public life, but he had been into the thick of them and won name and fame; the time had come for him to rest. He was of a studious, contemplative turn. Left to himself he might have grown into oneof those intellectual epicures who spend life in es- timating the choice aroma of a. sentence,the flavor of an epigmm. But he was forced out into the world at; an early age, and the student had been merged in the man of ac- tion. OIL revient touiours a. scs premiers am- and smiled s into the gre world again name him f the a: life of 0 now tlw 3 him. Jut the at vet. lawns inside the t, after all, he relapse et studious life which I smiled at the invibat ar from stron liable into so yester miliarly, as r m, or loitere m than mm arts 1r play. said Mlss arden, here mill then rflies, and Sebastian into n fro rcat 1V w1th you‘!’ And :zu‘ prayed. But a 1:1 15:11 turned r nothing Kentish the sta. i 1m with ifo blaring, flann )n enemtions wi despise or hate the but he had been into won name and fame; him to rest. He was lative Lurn. Left to 8&1 red i ch eguu, Miss Meredith Douche at the [3694‘ vays delighted m lrls were flittin! Ball were 3 their 0 At an quietness them I) bri ite “Vonld knd Ball Sut at the 11y m (1 him , lik had >ontinuin the Vica him uoxsterou lted t1 flitting .6 area. ne and. th ti) V “Oh, but you-dear Miss Meredithâ€" you!â€"” Words seemed to fail Mrs. La. Touche at this point but her lips Wnre a smile of inefl‘able sweetmsi. Then hurry- ing on a. little, as if anxious to change the subject. she resumed. “I mean to take dear Nina up to London this winter for those charming concerts in St. James’s Hall on Saturdays. I see that Madame Schumann is to play. Do you not loveâ€"- actually loveâ€"her playing? ” “ Never heard her,” said Miss Meredith. “ No? Really, you surprise me i I thought that you heard everything. Her playing is so sympathetic. And then you feel that she is a. lady ; and it adds so much to one’s pleasure in listening, to know that she is a. lady, don’t you think so 1’" MES. La. Touche’s delicate skin suddenly reddened with anger. “Dear Miss Mere- dith,” she said, with perfect: SWeetness, “ they are bronher and siscer.” “ That’s all very well while they are children, but it won’t; do by-and-by, will it, ‘3” said Miss Meredith cheerfully. “Nina. is growing up; and if a girl sets her affec- tions on any oneâ€"” “In our circle,” said with a. touch of ladylikx circle, a young lady nei tion until it, is sought.” Miss Meredith laugl about the human heart' exclude it, from your faintly mimicking Mrs. anion. She and Mrs. met without a skirmish met witho ment Nin two ladies “ Nina. Sir Roland, with a murmured excuse, here walked away. and Miss Meredith could express her opinion with the ease that usually characterized her remarks. " Well, I don’t know that their minds need be sullied by whatever they read,” slze said. “I know I read any book I want,- ed to when I was a. child. I’m not a'wm‘e that my mind is particularly sullied as yet.” “ Out of the W'oodbury Circulating Library, I believe. But she seemed a. nice, straightforward little thing ; not at all un- childlike. I was busy gardening, you know I can’t afford to pay a girdener, so I have to look after my flowers myself ; and she asked Whether she couldn't help me. I was just re-potting a. whole lot of new things that had come from Sutton’s, and she was no end of use to me. Oh, she’s all right: but I know nothing of the father.” “She is probably educating herself," said Sir Roland, “ and getting a. good education in the process.” He looked thoughtful as he spoke. Something had touched him in the picture of the heterodox preacher and his lonely child. “ You don't mean that, Roland !" cried his cousin. “\Vould you like Nina. to be educated in such a. way? For my part, I now scarcely ever read novels, they are so bad for the mind. And for a. young girl, surely, of all books, George Eliot's should be kept upon the shelf. They are so dis- tressingly atheistic in tone ; and reallyâ€"for a girlâ€"mot quiteâ€"quiteâ€"what one would wish. It is such a. pity that young people’s minds should be sullied before their time l” Sir Roland, with here walked away. a express her opinio usually characterize and Moral Philosophy. And the child’s not thirteen years old." “ Did her father make her read it '2" “Not be. She said that she wanted ‘to know things.’ I asked her if she never read story-books. and she said yes, she had read Adam Berle and Jane Eyre.” “My dear Miss Meredithâ€"” Mrs. La. Touche looked ineffably shocked. “Where did the poor, miserable child get books of that character ‘2” “ Out of the VVoodbury Circulating Library, I believe. But she seemed a. nice, straightforward little thing ; not at all on childlike. I was busy gardening, you know I can’t afford to pay a girdener, so I have to look after my flowers myself ; and she asked Whether she couldn't help me. I was just re-potting 3. things that had come she was no end of use t right: but I know moth you, mind,” said Miss Meredith. “ I know nothing about himâ€"â€" neither his morals nor his manners nor his mathematical I dare say they‘re all shaky. Perhaps there’s drink or something of that kind at the back of it. I'm only sorry for the wife , who looks a. quiet, refined sortofperaon, and a. rather nice little girl, who trots about; the garden with a. book. I spoke to her over the fence one day, and asked her what she was reading. You’ll never guess. Mrs. La. Touche.” with sake,” said Sir Roland. ment at Mrs. La. 'l‘ou should like to see the {e in earnest.” “Don’t, say that. 1 re: you, mind,” said Miss M 3“ A 1e: And n ther sson-book ‘2” s: superior smile bit of it. Chalmers’s Mental Philosophy. And the child’s sur as the quarrel about '2” Sir ired. He was always interest- ople : it was one of the things L Touche liked least about; him. punishment. The man couldn’t hot; enough for his congrega- ibury, so he had to leave. He little cottage on the Green ; djoins mine. The Wife looks i so does he, for the matter of ‘tily meanin " said Mrs. La. Touche, adylike severity, “in 011! dy never gives her afl'ec- .lght.” laughed. “And what heart? But perhaps you your circle?” she said. it for aid Mrs. La. Touche, "PP '1!" exclaime man can’t be preacher !” ring for cons: , with some 1che’a horror elIow. He 1 ommended him to But : ivancin d the SI Idare say w iiu 'oucl yuch )undlv sho men’s Green :ongregation x the little calls it. the l. Methodiub Sir in the vil He must be at this In 3y am 1136 Wit The distinctlve Roman arm was the pilum or spear, 4.1; feet of wood, 1% at iron; in weighed 10 or 12 pounds, and when thrown at, ten paces almost invariably prov- ed fatal. Athens had ten strategi, or draft, com‘ missioners ; these levied the troops; and together with the phylarchs,or colonels,a.nd taxiarchs, or captains, were elected by the people. legxdn was commandéd by 3. Tribune (Bri- gadier General). Medizeval infantry were either pikemen or archers. On the Continent the archers generally used the crossbow; the English archers preferred the more effective long l)ow,wlnch proved its superiority at Cl‘ecy, Poitiers and Agincourb. The army of Philip of Macedon was the largest standing army known up to his Lime, consisting of 30,000 foot. and 3000 horse, 1m main reliance was a great phaL aux of 18,00J men. He replaced the short spear with the lance 24- feeb long. The first infantry drill regulations of modern times were compiled by Maurice of Nassau during the rebellion ofthe Nether- lands. He also improved the cavalry to such an extent that during an engagement he could execute changes of front with large bodies at, a time. A Roman consular army comprised two legions, eachcomprisiug 4500 Men. The unit of the legion was the manipnlus, 100 men, commanded by a. centurion. The ceal them behind bodies of horse until a. critical moment. Until the time of Charles XII. of the artillery was not considered a the army; the men serving it were diets. wt. regarded as mecnaui At Leuctra. Epaminoudas broke the Spar- tan phalanx by forming his troops into a. deep column and attacking one wing of the Spartans, breaking it, then wheeling his ranks, and thus oubflanking the Spaxtan line. Napolean attached great importance to the light artillery, and his attention to this arm wonderfully improved its efficieuce in the new style of fighting in skirmish order. He was the first to mask batteries or con- horsVes got: frightened, and running away, often threw large bodies of troops into confusion. The flintlock was invented about 1640 and before the end of the century was in gener- a.1 use. Firing, however, was still very slow, and rarely more than twenty-five shots were fired by a. soldier in the course of a day. At the beginning of the fifteenth century a. marked improvement had been made in the infantry, which had been so drilled to maintain steadiness that It; was sometimes able to resist; a charge, even of the heavy cavalry. at one Dre- LW The French 5: strata against weapons - Frederick the Great revolutionized the cavalry of his time. All evolutions were executed at full speed, and the charging and rallying of the Prussian cavalry were deem- ed miraculous. The drill of the Roman soldier was ex- ceedingly severe. It comprised not only the use of weapons, but; running, jumping, climbing, wrestling, swimming, both naked and in full armor. During the time of Augustus the Roman army cansisted of twenty-five legionsâ€"«eight on the R11ine,three in Spain, two in. Africa, two Dan A Greek army was composed of the hop- litzu, or heavy armed infantry ; the thetes, or light infantry; an intermediate class,the peltastae. and bodies of mercenary slingers and bowmen. The ineffectiveness of medizeval cavalry is shown by the fact that it was always the slow moving part of the service, while all quick movements were executed by foot- men. The bayonet was invented by the French in 1040, was given to all the Austrian in- fantry in 1680, to the Prussiaus in 1690; the French adopted it. in 1703, the Russians in Some Interesting l-‘m'ls Not Generally Known. “ You have been overheating yourself, darling,” she said. " Take a. book and sit down in the shade.” And when Nina was out of hearing. “ I want that dear child to keep her complexion. Mine was like it when I was eighteen, but years and trouble soon rob one of its freshness. I assure you that I take every precaution. Nina. wears a veil and gloves when she goes out in a. morn- ing, even in the garden.” “ Good heavens ‘. Poor child ‘.” said blunt Miss Meredith. “ My little Methodist girl up at Kennet’s Green doesn’t do that ; but I warrant you she’ll turn out as pretty as Nina. any day l” Mrs. La. ’l‘Buche was too deeply disgusted to reply. LHIUSU lay. Her eyes were large mid blue; I kin had the hue and texture of the m lelicately timed rose‘leaves. Mrs. L‘onche looked at her anxiously, noting 31D nd. gypb, four in Syria, six on the A In" DEVELOPMENT. (TO BE CONTINUED.) the at her anxiously, noti 0.59 of color in the fair visitor, holding out; Ear :e mane of truce XII. of Sweden dered a part of {it were not 301- mechauics; the brou truted the hands of ket carrie Charles XII id Nina. rd r slip of a , hanging 1 flight see mpqme kne on or can- or foot ul arous every * ; her ‘eme vhic su- the an