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2 For Woman’s Work. A BIRTHDAY OFFERING. BERTHA H. STEWART. The years roll on in their ceaseless round, Flowers blossom and wither and die; But no withered buds in her heart are found, Time smiles as he passes them by, And murmurs,“ Not yet, I will leave them alone, They are far too fair to kill, I will wait until they are fuller blown, And then I shall garner at will.” So he goes on, and her beauties grow Sweeter and fairer each day; I should like to a.-k Time if he does but know That he never can take them away. For the flowers that grow in one good heart, Ere their beauty and life be spent, To some other life will their seed impart— Their living fragrance have lent. Ah, dear! Time is kind,so be kind to Time, There are those in the world today Who bartered the hours of youth sublime, And are fading in sorrow away. There are so many hearts full of tears unshed, Pleading for Time’s “ not yet.” The dearest thought of a day that is dead, Is the oue which recalls no regret. For Woman’s Work. MURIEL. A Tale of the Sixteenth Century VEN though I be one of the “reformed,” it need make no difference to you. We both worship the same God, but in different ways, and I promise 1 you never to interfere with your devo tions.” “ Oh, Louis, this is terrible! It is what I have dreaded. Did not Madame de Clune insure me that she had seen the young Lord de Montluc coming from a conventi cle, conversing with one of the most deter mined Huguenots? But I would not be lieve it. I wag sure she must have mistak en you. Tell me this is merely a horrid nightmare, or that you are saying this simply to test me. Anything, anything but that it is the truth.” Louis had grown pale to the very lips, as he listened to Muriel’s impetuous out break, “ My beloved, although I hold all earthly honor, all earthly joy, as worse than empty and desolate without you, yet I cannot give up the knowledge I have gained during the last few weeks, even if the price be your love.” Muiiel turned to him mournfully, “ Alas 1 Louis, it is yours, and I cannot withdraw it, even if I would.” Louis drew the slight figure towards him; “Why should you withdraw it? Ere the morrow’s sun sets, an indissoluble treaty will have been sealed, that no earth ly power can or will unbind.” “ Ah, you do not understand! It would be like betraying my trust, for it would be betraying my faith.” Meantime, Madame Seronye had not been unaware of the little scene that was being enacted in the window seat. She had purposely given Louis the op portunity of seeing Muriel alone, for she too had heard of the change in his religious views from one whom she could not doubt, and had deemed it best that Muriel should learn the truth from no other lips than his. Being thoroughly impregnated with the idea of the old religion, she had been de lighted, when she found that Muriel was as sincere a devotee as herself. In her inmost heart, she could but pity these two, of whom she had grown very fond, knowing too well that Louis’ high nature would never stoop to deceit, and that Muriel would never ally herself with one who differed with her in so es sential a point. Thinking that the interview granted was surely long enough, Madame Seronye drew aside the curtains, saying: “ Ah, ma mignon, the roses will utterly leave your cheeks, if you do not guard them better! ft is far past our usual hour of retiring,” then turning playfully to Louis, “ Fie upon you, Monsieur Louis, for not taking better care of my niece!” she laughingly with drew. Long did Louis gaze after them, and as they disappeared among the crowd,he mur mured, “God knows I would stand be , tween her and every sorrow!” and then came over him an utter sense of his desola tion, if Muriel should keep her word, and he knew her too well to doubt that she would. Silently he overcame, one by one, the manifold temptations of the evil one; and a stranger, glancing at the tall soldierly man, with the stern, set face, would never dream of the conflict that was raging so wildly within. The days sped into weeks, and the weeks into months; but to some, it seemed as if Father Time had weighted his feet with lead. Outwardly all was harmony, all was peace, but those who knew best felt that it was but the lull before the tempest, and took precautions to prepare themselves against its fury. The marriage of Henry of Navarre with the king’s sister, Marguerite, had taken place on the eighteenth of August, and the Guises had returned. All felt that a crisis was at hand, but few even imagined what a crisis! Seated in her charming boudoir is Mu riel. She is wan and pale; the sorrows of the last few months have weighed heavily upon her, for unlike Louis, she had not his fountain of comfort to draw from. From day to day, she had heard tales of shocking wrongs done in the name of Mother Church,” and her firm faith was beginning to totter. But the night before she had been the agonized eavesdropper of a whispered dialogue, the fearful mean ing of which, she could but under stand. She never knew how her trembling limbs bore her to her own apartments, but she could not afford to give way, and, ringing a bell, she ordered a trusted page to deliver the hasty little note she had written to no other hands than those of the Lord de Montluc. She is awaiting impatiently, now, the in terview which she had solicited. A firm step from without draws near, and, after a gentle rap, the door opens, admitting Louis. Muriel rises quickly, and Louis steps to her side. “ You sent for me, Muriel, and lam here. Can I be of any service to you ? ’ He marks with pain the sad curves about the usually smiling lips, and the eyes that look as if sleep was a stranger to them. A flood of passionate longing sweeps over him, and taking her in his arms, he holds her closely to him. For a few moments the silence is only broken by the humming of an insect, as it wanders aim lessly about the room, searching for an exit into the bright, beautiful world without. Finally Muriel rouses herself, “ Louis, you must promise to do something for me, that no one but yourself can do.” “You know m'ami, that lam entirely at your command. What is this great thing ?” Muriel looked at him beseechingly. “ Promise me that to-morrow, if you go abroad, or even if you stay at home, to wear this small token on your left arm;” and she held toward him a snowy handker chief. She was about to tie it on, when Louis, with a gentle force, made her desist. “ I must first know why it is on the morrow, that you are so anxious for me to wear this badge.” ’ “ Ah, Louis! is that the way for a gal lant knight to object to wear his lady’s colors ?” Muriel’s voice strove to be playful, but the anxiety she could not suppress was only too plainly portrayed in every fea ture. Louis gazed earnestly into the pleading face and answered firmly : “It was for no slight whim that you summoned me with so much haste to your presence. Tell me what evil you fear, what danger that may be averted by wear ing this dear token ?” “ Louis, I have from alas ! too good au thority, that ere two more suns shall set, not a Huguenot will be found in France. There is to be a general massacre, and the white handkerchief is the distinguishing badge—all wearing it will be safe. I im plore you on my knees to please me in this. It is but a little thing I ask of you.” Muriel spoke with the energy of despair, for she felt too sure that Louis would never accede. “ Is it then a little thing to desert one’s post in danger ? Is it nothing lor a man to save his mere life nt the expense of his honor? My beloved, you ask for that which is dearer to me than life.” She clung to him wildly. “ You do not understand what you say ; you are wilfully courting death by refusing to grant this simple request in which there is no dis honor.” His heart bleeds for her as he answers in a low tone, “ My love, the dishonor is not in the wearing; it is the purpose which sullies it. If you had asked for a boon that would have cost me my life, it should have been yours gladly, but this which you desire is not in my power to give.” The young girl leans wearily against a table; she knew all further urging was useless, and now only remained the fare well, which seemed as if it must crush her very heart. He folded her in his arms in one silent, lingering embrace—words were needless to them. ***** “ Muriel, my dear child, where are you going out in this chilly air ? Without any wrap,too! Really you are most imprudent!” and Madame Seronye ccmes hastily to ward her with a soft, woollen shawl, which she places about her shoulders. Time has dealt very gently in the year that has elapsed with the elder lady, and there is an expression of peace there which was wanting before. “ Dear Sante, you are always sothought- WOMAN’S WORK. ful of your heedless charge,” and Muriel kissed warmly her blooming cheek, “ I am just going down to bid adieu to Madame Leclere; I shall not be long; and she moved slowly away. During that last, terrible week in Paris, Muriel had waited eagerly, hoping against hope that Louis might be saved, but as the days dragged slowly by and she re ceived no tidings of him, she felt that they would never meet on earth again. The horrors then committed in the name of her religion, broke down the last stronghold, and she and her aunt together, in their adversity, had learned of Him, and had re ceived the promised “ peace unto their souls.” They had heard of the demolition of the old chateau by soldiers, who were regardless of aught but plun der, and they knew not where to go, for further sojourn in Paris was danger ous. At last some Huguenot friends sug gested Rochelle, and thither they had come, and been most kindly welcomed by others of the “ Faith.” Muriel, always delicate, had finally succumbed to an ener vating fever, and for many weeks her life hung in the balance. She was now slowly recovering, and the doctors had ordered an entire change of air; so, on the morrow, she and her aunt, with other friends, had decided to set sail for the hospitable shores of Old England. As she now walks wearily home, having made her parting visits, a man on the op posite side of the street, in ordinary labor er’s dress, watches her intently. There is that in his bearing, which shows that he has not always been accustomed to his present garb. He follows her to her own door, unnoticed, for she is busily thinking of the near future, and of her new home in the land beyond the seas. She enters the little salon, and seats her self before the grate fire, awaiting her aunt. Quietly the door opens, and the stranger enters. Muriel is heedless of the intrusion, until he stands before her. For a mo ment she is startled, then, as she scans his face more closely, she pales, as if she had seen a ghost. “Muriel I” “ Louisl” and he holds her closely. At last Muriel asks, half reproachfully: “ Why did you not come sooner? Why did you not let us know you had es caped ?” “ Because, my darling, I could not find you. My escape is yet a wonder to me. When 1 left you that last night, I had given up all hope of ever seeing you again, and was preparing myself to meet my fate bravely, when, as I turned down a narrow little alley to elude the crowd which was even then gathering in the squares, I met a man with a covered market wagon, and there flashed across me the idea of escap ing by flight. I debated long whether or not to risk asking this man to aid me, but thinking it might be my last chance, I ac quainted him with my danger. He seemed much struck by something in my appear ance, and asked if I was any relation to Gen eral Montluc. Upon telling him I was his son, he kissed my hand, and with tears in his eyes, informed me that my father had befriended him when a young man, and that nothing he could do for his son could ever repay the debt he owed. He gladly consented to conceal me with the best of his ability, and taking out his garden stuff, made a bed for me of straw, and then cov ered me with his merchandise. What we both dreaded was passing out the gates, as we feared they might be carefully guard ed. As the cart was stopped at the Porte de Notre Dame, my heart almost ceased beating, for hope had grown strong within. I listened eagerly to the conversation be tween the soldier and my unknown friend, and you may well imagine my feelings, when 1 heard the former say gruffly, “ Well, get along with your old truck, I have weightier business on hand, than examin ing every old vegetable wagon,” giving the poor old nag a vicious blow with his sabre. It seemed months to me ere my friendly jailor set me free in the pure, open country. He advised me to make my way at once for the seaboard, and would not consent to leave me until he saw me safely shipped for England. There I heard of all the frightful events of that week, and even now, a thrill of horror chills me when I think of it,” shuddering. “ Oh, Louis, it was dreadful! Imagine being in the midst of it all, and utterly powerless to avert it. I think I will never forgetit. They say the king is haunted by the ghosts of his murdered subjects,” and’Muriel hid her face in her hands, “and then, I imagined you were among them. Could you not have sent me word you were safe?” “My dearest, as soon as it was at all safe, I returned to Paris, and could find no clue of you there. Since then I have been wandering from place to place in search of you. I came to Rochelle before, and could find no one answering to your descrip tion.” “ No, because on leaving Paris, we dropped our real name, and took instead, that of Meron to better escape detection,” interrupted Muriel. Louis took her hands in his: “ Muriel is it possible that what I have so long prayed for has really come to pass ? Then, my love, why need we be separated ? I have firm friends in England, and there together we may worship God as we would, until this storm blows over.” Muriel smiled softly. “We had already decided, Sante and I, to sail to-morrow with other dear friends, and you may come, too, if you wish,” she added, with a touch of her old playfulness. “ Her ladj ship is most kind to grant me her permission,” bending his knee before her, in mock gratitude. There was a quiet little wedding the next morning, and many were the loving con gratulations that were showered upon them. Muriel had won the hearts of all by her loving, tender ways, and they were unwilling to part from her. As she sits upon the deck, watching the fair shores of her own dear France fade from sight, her eyes grow misty as the thought comes to her, she may never see her native land again. Louis sympathises with her, and taking her hand in his, whispers, “My beloved, let us leave all unhappiness and sorrow be hind us, and let our love be the corner stone of our new home.” She smiles through her tears, as she murmers softly, “ I think, then, our cor ner-stone is already laid.” H. V. B. R. For Woman’s Work. FAULTS. Well, we all have them, you know. And in the nature of finite things, we could not be without them. Some have more than others, and some have worse ones than others, but I think no one will deny that they have them, to a greater or less degree. Then, having them, we ought to know what they are, and do all we can to rid ourselves of them. Sometimes our faults of disposition or manners are inherited. Then the fight must be a hard and continual one to avail against them. Those who are conscientious and try to become what they were meant to be, noble men and women, seek to know what their faults are, and having found them out, strive ever for their mastery. Thus it is that people who have grown old in trying to live good lives, to live as they should live, to become as near perfect as they could in this world in away that would fit them for a better one, have so few faults. If one does all that is possible towards the eradication of the faults that he finds within himself, he will do all that can be done. But there are persons who do not trouble themselves in the least about their faults. Their self-esteem is such that they think whatever they are, or do, is just what it ought to be. If they have high and even quarrelsome tempers, they congratulate themselves upon their lack of submission. If they are proud and self conceited, they sre glad that it is so; and so on, in definitely. They rather delight in their faults than otherwise, and, of course they never seek to subdue or conquer them. They keep right along through life, nurs ing and fondling their faults until they become eccentricities and disagreeable habits, that often make miserable the un fortunate people who are about them. Knowing ourselves possessed of a fault, we should strive to get away from it, even though our progress' is slow; if we keep it in mind as a thing to be avoided, we may subdue it at last. Then we should seek to know our fault®; to realize what they are, and to look closely at our thoughts and ways, that some little pet style, or way of thinking or speaking of things, does not become a real faulty habit while we are looking upon it as a virtue. Others will not often tell us of our faults, even though they may condemn them— both to themselves and others. Therefore let us search for them, and having found, may we ceaselessly toil to overcome them. Imogene E. Johnson. No woman can be handsome by the force of features alone, any more than she can be witty only by the help of speech.— Thomas Hughes. When a man learns to mind his own business and leave the affairs of others alone he accomplishes a success as great as falls to mortals.