She lingera still in the driving mist, 



Striving to keep his shadow in sight. 

 There's a tremulous smile on the lips he has 

 kissed. 



In her eyes shines a new sweet light, 

 And the sodden landscape fades away. 



A shining path spreads before her feet. 

 Love's deathless domain she has entered today, 



And, oh, to be living is sweet! 



HE. 



He, hurrying off to catch the train, 



Hopes that his people will like the match. 

 What a lucky girl such a husband to gain. 



For she wasn't mucli of a catch. 

 Well, the deed is done ; the victim must pay. 

 How much did that dress cost she wore to- 

 night? 

 She should make her own ; there's a saviL^ 

 that way. 

 Once married, he'll set all such things righi 

 — E. D. Pierson in New York Sun. 



LOST HIS BEAKD. 



"Rezonvillel Gravelotte! Montre 

 tout! What a longtime ago it all seema 

 — half a lifetime, monsieur!" said my 

 old friend Philipe Alibert, the ex-dra- 

 goon, as we stood before Brisset's pic- 

 ture in the salon of 1894. "Yes, that is 

 Gravelotte — I was there. Is the picture 

 like it? Oh, no doubt! The artist knows 

 — I cannot tell. I had to fight, not look 

 about. 



"You want an anecdote of our troop, 

 monsieur? Well, you shall have one. 

 You may take it that we were picked 

 men. There was but one youngster 

 among us, and to us old mustaches his 

 beardless face seemed strange. Ah, he 

 was handsome, with the beauty du di- 

 able, fairly tall aud very slim. He had a 

 caustic tongue, aud nothing pleased him 

 better than to use it on us, his comrades, 

 in such a manner that we feared him 

 and left him to himself. How it was we 

 could not tell, but Leon St. Paul carried 

 everything ktfore liim. Did one of us 

 offer attention to a pretty grisette mere- 

 ly pour passer le temps, Leon would cut 

 him out and cover him in his retreat 

 with confusion. This, in truth, was bad 

 enough when the intent was merely to 

 amuse oue.self, but, sacre, it is hard to 

 bear whtn a man was in earnest, as 

 poor Cambert was with Mam'selle Ma- 

 rie Emmanuel, the vivandierj. 



"A good creature, that Marie. We 



must say what I think, the inmost ri 

 cesses of her heart for monsieur le doi 

 teur. 



"Poor Marie! M. Vendome thougl 

 nothing of her. 



"Cambert hated Leon and would o: 

 ten say while stroking his thick, blac 

 beard : ' This young cockerel crows tc 

 loud, messieurs. We must cut his com 

 for him. ' 



" 'There are plenty of Prussian coml 

 for cutting. Corporal Cambert, ' our sei 

 geant would reply. 'Let us carve them 

 my friend, before we practice on eac 

 other. Who knows?' he added thought 

 fully on one occasion. ' The time ma, 

 come when we shall none of us ha.v 

 the heart for crowing. ' 



"Ah, well, the campaign was in it 

 infancy then, and France, like a brid 

 who decks herself for her nuptials, ha( 

 gone out to espouse the god of war, lit 

 tie dreaming what the children of he: 

 marriage bed would be. But to mj 

 story, monsieur. It was the eve o: 

 Gravelotte, and Cambert, moody as 

 usual, came across Leon trifling witi 

 Marie, the vivandiere. He found hei 

 smiling into the youth's handsome, 

 beardless face, and in a burst of sar- 

 casm unusual with him — for monsieur 

 will understand that he had no great 

 command of language except for curs- 

 ing — he said to her, 'Mam'selle Marie 

 Emmanuel, if you would have us con- 

 tinue to be your slaves, at least give us 

 a man for a rival. ' 



"Leon's face turned scarlet. 'Man or 

 boy,' he answered, 'I will wager my 

 silver rosary, blessed by the holy fa- 

 ther himself, against that beard of 

 youx's, of which you think so much, 

 that I ride before you into the fight 

 when next we charge the Prussians. ' 



"'Agreed!' replied Cambert lightly. 

 'Have the goodness to accept my assur- 

 ance mademoiselle, that I shall present 

 you with a silver rosary in a little 

 time. ' 



" 'Marie shall have the rosary, but 

 she shall also have your beard to stuff 

 a pillow for her favorite poodle, ' an- 

 swered Leon, and then, looking daggers 

 at each other, they parted. 



"The morrow was the day of Grave- 

 lotte, and we heard that we were to 

 charge the blue tunics and drive them 



