çois Gaston de Lévis, the leader of her armies. He returned to Europe, to new campaigns; he rose to be Duc de Lévis, Marshal of France, Governor of a province; but no period of his life is more honorable to his memory than those weary months when, by his untiring exertions, his electric hopefulness, his dogged resolution, he sustained for a whole year the hapless fortunes of New France, wornout, bankrupt, starving, and abandoned.

"Tis not in mortals to command success ;

But we'll do more, Sempronius, we'll deserve it."

LOVE'S UNIVERSALITY.

E. H. L.

W

ITH statelier splendor than a monarch shows
Who spreads his purple of magnificence
To awe the city into reverence,

The setting sun on this lone desert throws
A flood of light, in mingled gold and rose,

As lavish as if here, from crowds immense,
Should rise acclaiming voice of frankincense,
Stirred by the grandeur that such grace bestows.
God's richer blessings with as generous hand

Impartial, from his throne are borne adown,
Even to the very loneliest in the land.

Look but beneath the cruel-seeming frown,
And learn of latent love to understand

How every cloud dissolves beneath its crown!

MARY B. DODGE.

F

A LAWYER'S JOURNAL.

EBRUARY.-I have sometimes arrived at the conclusion that I have made a great mistake in my choice of a profession. I had no decided bent for anything else; I did not dislike the idea of reading law in my uncle's office, and finally my mother wished it. So here I am at twenty-five, badly off enough. I have never had a case. I have done a little office-work; I have administered an estate; I have gone into court and heard other men argue cases. My mother died the year that I was admitted to the bar, so that my legal career is no longer a matter of moment to her. I have no other relatives to care whether I succeed or not. At the very bottom of my heart I realise that I am a vagabond by nature. I would rather be out West somewhere, mining, digging, editing a newspaper perhaps I fancy I could do that; at all events I could write the poetry for the Poets' Corner. They do say that a man who can rhyme is sure to be good for nothing else: I rhyme.

To-day, after having had my breakfast at the long, lonely, crowded hotel-table, I sauntered down the street with my cigar in my mouth. As usual, I made for the river. It is a habit of mine to stand for half an hour at a time with my hands in my pockets staring at the river, the sunlight on its surface, the ships coming and going. Sometimes I am not surprised that I have made such a bad out of it with my profession. I doubt whether a client has ever tried my door, found me away, and turned off disgusted; but if he ever did, I should never know it. Sometimes I do not go to that den of mine all day long.

As I stood on the wharf, the sun shining, the breeze blowing, a little steamboat came puffing and panting up. It had been up the river, where a set of poor, shiftless farmers lived. They had no produce at this season to bring down to the market in our little town; I wondered vaguely, why the deck of the boat was crowded as it was this morning. I stood by, having nothing better to do, and watched the passengers come ashore. A few shabby men and boys, with bags of potatoes and cabbages; then a little group headed by a man, who might have been a minister, who was followed by a woman carrying a baby, and with two children clinging to her skirts. As they passed me, one of the children stumbled and fell. I stooped to pick it up and to say a word of consolation. The woman stopped, laboriously extracted a handkerchief from her pocket and dried the child's tears, and attempted to hush its sobs in rapid, caressing German. pushed back her veil, meanwhile. I never saw anything more beautiful than this woman's face. It was, however, more the beauty of a child than of a woman. Such a rounded face, every curve so exquisitely tinted; bright, soft, shy, hazel eyes, straight nose, a steady, delicate color in the cheeks, full red lips, parted over small white teeth. The upper lip was perfectly straight, although short, and imparted an air of firmness and resolution to a face that would otherwise have been

She

singularly childish, almost babyish. The face touched me; there was a grieved look on it that I found myself striving to account for. The party went to a third-class inn near the wharf, and presently I saw the man issue forth alone. He came towards the boat and inquired of the captain how soon he would leave for Greenbriar again. When the captain told him at four o'clock, he nodded and walked off again up town. I then bethought myself of following his example. I started up the street, composing a poem as I went about a beautiful young mother with hazel eyes and a tearful smile. I was walking slowly in a brown study, when I suddenly turned the corner of the street that led to my office, and ran up against Bob Whyte. "Hello!" he said, "you are off the track as usual. There has been a parsonlooking fellow hammering away at your door for ten minutes. He has gone to Sharpe's now; lost a client. Hope you had a pleasant walk to make up for the inconvenience."

A week But I finMy copy

A parson-looking chap? I wonder if it can be possible that—" but Bob was off before I could finish my remark. Bob is a clerk in a bank; an old friend of mine, and knows my ways. later not a soul came near me all the rest of that day. ished my poem and sent it to the Lyre to be published. must have been very blind; there were so many mistakes in it that I was quite in despair when it appeared the next week. I had had a vague hope that the woman I had written it for would see it, and I knew that she would not be able to understand it unless the English was very simple and plain.

March. This afternoon I was strolling about the park, when I saw Mrs. Hope and her sister coming. I like Mrs. Hope, and there is something about her sister which attracts me strangely. Mrs. Hope is so well-poised, so bright, so handsome, and her sister is exquisite. There is a saintliness about both of them; only one is of the St. Margaret, the other of the St. Agnes type: St. Margaret who conquered the dragon of worldliness and led it in chains by her side; St. Agnes of the apart face, the apart life. I saluted, and would have passed on, but Mrs. Hope said : "Mr. Angel, I have a case for you. A woman in distress needs a champion: will you espouse her cause ?" "On general principles, yes," I replied.

'Now, that is really not fair," cried Miss Agnes,-I never remember the young lady's real name-"Jeanie, you must explain. And don't commit yourself, Mr. Angel, without due reflection; you might do more harm than good."

"In the first place then, Mr. Angel," explained beautiful, animated Mrs. Hope, "I am a Committee-woman. I am one of six ladies who

make it their business to visit the jail." "You fulfil the prayer the Church makes, that mercy may be extended upon all prisoners and captives."

"Last month a woman was taken there on suspicion. She was accused of murder. Her husband died suddenly six weeks ago, under very suspicious circumstances. There are facts which appear to implicate her. I do not believe she is guilty; but she must be proved innocent. And she has no money. And the counsel employed by the State may or may not do her justice."

"I wish I were a better lawyer, Mrs. Hope. But such as they are, my services are entirely at your disposal."

"Stop! stop! I don't want you to put it in that way. I don't want you to plead the woman's cause until you conscientiously believe her to be an innocent woman. Go to see her first, and then if you think you can undertake the case, you will be doing a charity. But being the man you are, you will probably do her more harm than good, as my sister says, if you try to get her off against your conscience." "Thank you, Mrs. Hope, for the trouble you have taken to analyse me."

"You do not give me many opportunities of seeing you. What I know of you, I am obliged to guess at. Do you always intend to lead a hermit's life, Mr. Angel?

"I shall be very glad to come to see you, Mrs. Hope," I said, frankly. I suppose I am an unsociable creature, and that is the long and the short of it. I do not often feel disposed to seek out my fellow-men."

"Then you mean to go to see Mrs. Heimniss?" Miss Agnes said, with a very earnest look in her eyes.

"Yes, I will certainly go, and then I will call and let you know the result."

The two sisters walked on. I lounged about by myself a while longer, then I turned towards the town. I walked down the dingy street that led to the jail, and having obtained admittance, made my errand known. I was shown upstairs to a long hideous room, with a coarse creature in the dress of a woman lying on a narrow iron bedstead at one end of the room, and with a lovely graceful figure walking rapidly up and down the room, hushing her baby-a lovely figure, with the lovely face I had seen once before on the wharf. I went forward and showed her my card. "Mrs. Hope asked me to come to see you," I explained. "I am a lawyer. If you care to have me take hold of your case, I am willing to do so; unless, having heard your statement, I find myself unable to help you."

I said all this very slowly. She fixed her beautiful hazel eyes upon me and listened attentively; but she gave me the impression that she was listening more with her eyes than with her ears. Do you understand me?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied, "I understand; but I speak but a few words." Then I tried German. I contrived to piece out a conversation with her by means of the two languages. A perfect sympathy was established between us. All the chivalry of my nature was aroused. This - young, beautiful, defenceless was in danger of her life, charged with a hideous crime; if there was justice in the land, I would get it for her.

woman

She was a very remarkable person-evidently a woman of the people, and yet with a quaint simplicity about her that would have done credit to the manners of a duchess. Like all persons of her class in her country, her diction was good. I took out my note-book and began to take notes of what she said.

"Would the gentleman allow me," she suggested, "I could write down all these things he would like to know. I can write. My

father was a merchant, and he had me educated. Would you like me to try to write all that you have ask me in one paper?" "I think that would be a very good plan," I replied. "Then I would be sure to have your own statement without the risk of misunderstanding you. I can read German better than I can speak it." I rose to go. She rose too, one little girl clinging to her skirts. Another had fallen asleep on the hard boards at her feet. The baby she had laid on a bed when I had come in and had stated my errand. "I thank you for coming," she said; "I was beginning to feel out of hope. My trouble is very great."

"I hope I can help you. I will do my best," I replied. At the door I turned back to look at her. She had taken a seat again, and had rested an elbow on a table, her head on her hand, in an attitude of the deepest dejection. The little child had climbed up on her lap, and had laid its cheek caressingly against hers in mute consolation. She a murderess!

It

Next day she sent me the paper she had promised. Here it is. is written on coarse blue foolscap paper, in a beautiful German hand, clear and even as engraving.

HER STORY.

I was born in Elsass. My mother died when I was a little girl, and my father married again. His second wife had a son a year or so older than I was, with whom I was brought up. His name was Conrad Deifel. My name is Rosalia Heimniss now; it was Rosalia Grünberg then. My father brought me up to no trade, but I worked hard in the house; and I took care of the children, and I sewed. A German girl of my class is not apt to be idle. For two or three years I was engaged to be married to Johann Heimniss, who came over to America, came back home again, and there saw me and asked me to marry him. During the three years that he was away again I sewed and I knitted and I planned, and by the time he was ready for me I had ready a great chest of linen, and household stuffs also, stout and good, such as one has in the old country – a great chest-full. I have the same chest still, and the things are still almost as good as new. Our German goods are very strong and good. During all the time I was getting ready I saw much of Conrad, as he was after a while my father's apprentice. To tell the truth, we were never very good friends. He liked Gretchen Schultz, who lived across the way, and he took no pains to please me. I in return was not as amiable to him as I might have been. He was at an awkward, clumsy age for boys. In short, there was never anything in the least like a love-affair between us. I mention this because since then my enemies have said that there was. I married Johann, and we came to America to live. My father made no objection to my going. It was better I should be married, and a poor girl was not likely to have many offers. So we came into this State to live, and Johann opened a store at Greenbriar, up the river. Before that he had lived in this town, but he had not done so well here. There we made money at first. We had two children, and we were prospering until about two years ago.