Alison Brand's Battle in Life. "I am not poor enough. I have everything I want, and my father is rich." She turned down the lamp, and, drawing aside the curtain, gazed out into the moonlight. Below lay a well-kept garden, with smooth-shaven lawn stretching down to the river, and beyond the river fields, woods, and the distant hills were in a haze of silver. A beautiful fairy scene it seemed to her in the enchantment of the moonbeams, so still, so beautiful, giving no sign and raising no thought of warfare. Alison pressed her glowing face against the bars of the casement window, and glanced upwards at the moon and stars that were so far, far away. Suddenly a sense "One's life is curbed in of oppression came to her. here," she said. What can I do? My hands are tied; there is nothing to fight for or to fight against. Like a quiet stream pushing through a pleasant meadow goes my life day by day." 66 And she almost felt as though she would gladly change places with the poorest drudge who had to work her way, toiling hard for her daily bread, fighting the battle as so many fight it, with only God to look down and pity with a great pitying love the tears and the struggles; yet with an all-gracious smile, since He knows that the end shall be victory, and that the poor worn brow shall be crowned with a glorious crown, and that the wearer shall at last understand the mystery of the life hidden with God, the life lost on earth but found again in heaven. What numbers of heroes and heroines there are in the world that the world recks not of; that we pass daily in the streets; that we see in the poor places in our crowded churches and chapels; who wear shabby garments, and whose names have never appeared in print as having done a deed that has given them a place in the world's fame. And yet heroes and heroines nevertheless, and chronicled as such in that great book whose pages are never torn out or its insertions blurred and blotted. Alison was an only child, and, as she truly observed to herself, she wanted nothing. Her parents were rich, and almost idolized her. Nothing had been spared on her education, and all her tastes were gratified. And yet with the inconsistency of human nature she was not content; the chains of prosperity seeming to her as hard to bear as the bonds of adversity. "It all smothers and oppresses me," she said. "I want to get free. I want to breathe; I want to try the powers that God has given me; to use the talents that I know are mine." Just then a gentle tap was heard at the door. "Yes, mother," she answered mechanically, as she opened it. Mrs. Brand was somewhat of an invalid; she had never been strong, and a cold wind or an unusually sultry day would unfit her for any exertion. People Alison said that if she had had no time to take care of herself she might have had better health, but those who knew her better saw how feeble and frail she was. knew well how little strength her mother had, and in her own exuberant health felt as if she and her mother had changed places, and that she was the protector. "I must take care of you, little mother," she would say; "you must not tire yourself." To-night she felt the protecting spirit come with her. It might be that her mother fuller force upon would need greater help than ever, and Alison was ready to give it. She looked on the unconscious form of her father, and, as this feeling of responsibility pressed upon her, her heart gave a sudden leap and then sank within her. Had her longing been answered in this terrible manner? Had discontent at her seeming want of purpose in life so soon found work to do? It was not as she had meant it. She had but felt the energy, the power within her, and had repined at not being able to go forth into the world and prove herself. She had a love for music and painting. Might she not develop these and shine as an artist, or take some path that would lead to fame, and be carried from height to height, lulled by the music that success plays with syren-like sweetness. She had been longing for action, something to take her out of the niche in which she had been So she morbidly placed. Had she been wrong? And were others to suffer through her discontent? reasoned with herself in the midst of her sudden grief and anxiety for her father. If Alison had been an ordinary girl these thoughts would not have arisen, but she had been accustomed to reason with herself and to carry out her own arguments and theories, questioning keenly if this were right or wrong and endeavouring to find the motive for every action. And, with her usual keenness in maturing and dissecting, her brain was busy at work, and a condemning spirit seemed to show her in a vision a dark shadow, whether of death or lengthened-out days of weakness, perhaps of imbecility as the result of her repining. The doctor had pronounced what each had known, "But with so comparatively that this was paralysis. young a man," he had added, "there is every reason to hope for the best." And to this hope Mrs. Brand clung, and Alison strengthened her in it, though she had still the foreboding that a beginning had come to something that drew the cords of destiny in more oppressive folds But it was not Mrs. Brand, but her aunt Miriam around her. who stood in the doorway. 66 What is the matter, Aunt Miriam ?" exclaimed Alison, gazing in some alarm at her aunt's grave face. "Your father is not well; we have sent for a doctor." Alison pushed gently past her aunt, and flew to He was lying unconscious and her father's room. almost motionless, save for the occasional twitching of his mouth. Her mother was standing beside the bed watching him anxiously, her pale face paler than Alison glided round to her, and, putting her arm around her, stood quietly by her. ever. "Aunt Miriam," she said suddenly, as, after a few "how did my grandmother manage to days her father began slowly to recover from the attack, She had her children to live for, to bring up, to live ?" educate." "Yes, yes, I know that," replied Alison, "but I want to know how she found means to support them; for I have heard you say that her relatives were not rich." "No, but they helped her to the best of their ability. She took a small house in a cheap neighbourhood Did it pay well ?" "Not the army," said Alison; "I do not like fighting." "One may be an officer and yet never be in a single "Not well, but sufficiently; it was struggling battle," returned Lewis. "The army offers induce work." 66 Yes?" "And from this beginning she got on, and as her children grew up she was helped by friends to place them out in life. Most of them prospered, and then your grandmother had her reward. The evening hour of life had its peace and light." "And my grandfather was nothing more heard of his death ?" "Not until years afterwards; then a stranger called to see your grandmother. He had been abroad at the time of your grandfather's illness, and had a letter to your grandmother which he promised to deliver with his own hand when he returned to England. But circumstances prevented his return for several years, though when he did his first care was to call upon my mother." "And the letter ?" "Was one that gave your grandmother comfort. It was the letter of a truly repentant man, who had treasured up her sudden hope and pondered over it until he had made her newborn trust his own, and she knew that the end had been peace." "And this stranger ?" LEWIS SEATON was constantly at the Brands. The fathers being in partnership had made them almost like brothers, and Lewis had been the constant companion of Alison. He was not going into business; he, like Alison, was an only child, with a large fortune awaiting him. He had not quite made up his mind what he was going to do. He had a visionary idea of a career, but no thought of a battle connected with it. He had talked it over with Alison in his college vacations, and she had pondered it in her heart, perhaps more deeply than he had done. He was handsome, he had good abilities, and succeeded when he chose to work, which was not always, as his nature prompted him rather to glide as easily as possible through his studies. He was certainly to travel for a year after leaving college, before he ultimately decided upon his choice of a profession. "I may enter the army," he said, one evening when he and Alison were alone together. ments, and then if one is ordered abroad there is foreign life to see." Alison shook her head. "The bar," said Lewis, "has its advantages. I might go through all the gradations until I became, perhaps, a Lord Chancellor, though that is not likely." Alison laughed. "What nonsense you are talking, Lewis." Lewis Seaton threw himself into an easy-chair, and half closed his eyes. "I am only considering a career," he replied, half smiling; "you know it is what you have always been impressing upon me, and I am willing to weigh everything carefully. And next term is my last, and after that a whole year's travelling! From Norway to Rome, Alison, only think of that? Should you not like to go too." "Of course I should," said Alison, simply. "Why should you not?" asked Lewis, suddenly rousing from his recumbent attitude. "It would be easy enough." Alison looked at him in surprise. "Why But Lewis looked serious enough now. should we not go as man and wife? Why should it not be our wedding journey? Alison, our thoughts have never shaped themselves into words, but have we not an interest in each other that would make this possible? Is it not the unspoken wish of our parents that this should be? Alison, it has been my dream from boyhood; have you never thought of it?" Alison started. She did not know-she could not tell-if "yes or "no" would be the truer answer. Everything seemed suddenly to take a new aspect, the brother and sister life had gone, and could never return again. She glanced for a moment at Lewis, and then she knew all, and as Lewis bent to catch her answer her lips almost unconsciously murmured able exertion. The valley is safer than the mountain, Alison." "You must do more than that, Lewis," pleaded Alison, and Lewis was only too willing to humour Alison in all her fancies to-night. He regarded her as a charming spoiled child, who had had her own way all her life, and yet was none the worse for it, and he liked to see the enthusiastic spirit that shone in her eyes, as she planned out his future for him. "We shall both be improved by travel; it is a sort of education to see foreign countries, and to observe the ways and customs of the inhabitants. We shall take notes, Lewis, and write an account when we return." Again he smiled. "And I shall see Florence-Venice-Rome !" murmured Alison, softly; "we shall see them together, Lewis. How beautiful it will all seem!" All at once she started. "What is the matter ?" asked Lewis quickly. "I have forgotten everyone but myself," she said, "My father is ill-my mother is not strong. Oh, Lewis, how can I go away ?" "There is plenty of time, Alison. Christmas has to come and go, and in the spring all will be right again. Your father is certainly better, and he will have your mother and your aunt Miriam. And our marriage will be a new interest, and infuse life and spirit into the house. As long as you are happy, your father and mother are satisfied." "Yes," answered Alison, hesitatingly; "and we should not go away for ever." "I should think not," returned Lewis; "I daresay we shall get tired of travelling long before our programme is finished." Alison looked up. "I think not. One would never be tired of seeing fresh towns and people, and the wonders of art, as well as the loveliness of nature. Lewis, it will be almost too much happiness. My life has been so full of happiness, almost too great happiness." "Why, Alison, what moralising spirit is upon you to-night, and yet it pleases me to hear you. Do you believe that you shall be so happy with me?" "Yes," she answered, gently; "I know I shall." So the two talked on; and when lights were brought in, Alison was roused to the fact of how time had flown by on wonderfully rapid wings; and then Aunt Miriam came, and a strange feeling of shyness took possession of Alison. She glided quietly out of the room, and upstairs to where her mother was sitting at her father's beside. She sat down at her mother's feet, and took her hand and stroked it. She did not speak for some minutes, then she said: "Mother, I am going to marry Lewis." Mrs. Brand opened her eyes wide, and, as far as the subdued light would permit, gazed intently at Alison, as though not quite comprehending what she had said. "What is it, Alison ?" she asked dreamily, as if awaking from sleep. Alison crept closer to her mother. "Mother, Lewis has asked me to be his wife, and I have promised." Mrs. Brand half checked a faint sigh that rose to her lips; but Alison caught the sound. "I thought you liked Lewis, mother?" "So I do, my child," said Mrs. Brand throwing her arms round her daughter and kissing her many times; "it has been the wish of your father and myself for many years that you and Lewis should marry. He is good, amiable, clever, and I am satisfied. But I lose part of my daughter-it was that which made me sigh. It came so suddenly, Alison, darling," and again she kissed her. "Mother," said Alison, "you will never lose me ; you will have two children instead of one." (To be continued.) HE year AUTUMN. is crowned with Thy goodness, Lord,- The fields are golden with the waving grain, PATTIE ELIZABETH VARNAM. VICTOR'S PONY. A Tale of the Franco-German War. BY ASCOTT R. HOPE. NE of Victor Dumaresque's most ardent wishes was to have a pony. His father had been a French officer of Chasseurs, fallen gallantly at the battle of Solferino, and the boy, who could hardly remember him, learned to look on it as the great object of life to become a dashing horseman, enter the cavalry, and distinguish himself in the service of his country. Ever since-on the death of his mother ten years later he had come to live in Alsace with his only sister and her husband, he had lost no chance of getting a mount on any beast which a neighbour might lend him; but his passion for riding had for the most part to content itself with the hope of one day having some sort of steed of his own. His brother-in-law, Alexandre Ackermann, was the doctor of Nordheim, a little village among the Vosges mountains, not far from the German frontier. Dr. Ackermann, not having been long in practice, kept no more than one horse, a sober, steady animal, of general utility, which had enough to do in drawing its master's light carriage up and down the hilly roads of that neighbourhood, without any spirit to spare for letting Victor prance about on its back at odd times. and Prussia; people spoke of war, which could not but be a bad business for Alsace, not to speak of its raising the price of quinine all over the world, and other evils. At any other time Victor would have been much interested by the very mention of war, but now his thoughts were all taken up by the new pony. Leaving the state of Europe to grown-up people, he spent the rest of the day in considering what he should call his small steed, and finally resolved to give it the name of Lulu. Then there was mounting on it and trotting and cantering all day long, till the pony, if it had been consulted, must have wished it had fallen into the hands of a less active owner. It was a week or two before a proper saddle could be bought, but that made no difference. Victor had been told that he ought to ride bare-backed if he would become a good horseman, and that English boys learned so. That was enough for him. was enough for him. He looked on English boys as models in all such matters. His favourite writer was Sir Walter Scott. He spoke English quite well, for his mother had been an Englishwoman, so he was able to look on and laugh when his school-fellows were opening their mouths and making ludicrous efforts to pronounce as and es in the English way. His ideas of English horsemanship were chiefly taken from Sir Walter Scott, represented as a boy in a flowing kilt, galloping across the top of a mountain upon a bare-backed, piebald palfrey, with its two front legs in the air and its two hind legs on the ground, in which attitude it surely could not have got on very fast, out of the picture. His notion of riding, not a bad one either for a learner, was getting on, sticking fast, and going ahead anywhere. In the meanwhile the aspect of political affairs At last there appeared some prospect of the wish became rapidly more and more threatening. The of his heart being gratified. His sister and her hus- arrival of the newspapers was every day a great event band talked over it, and it was agreed that if Victor in this remote village. Those who professed to undergained a prize in his class next year a pony should stand such matters declared war to be certain. It be got for him. You may be sure he worked hard was a most serious thing for that neighbourhood, at his lessons all that winter, doing so well, and which had so often found itself the battle ground of bringing home such good reports, that he seemed to French and German armies. The people, though have an excellent chance of winning the promised attached to France, were Germans in all but the reward. Then Alexandre, who was a most good-name. The German frontier was so close by that natured brother-in-law, proved better than his word, for even before it was known for certain that Victor should have the prize, about the beginning of July he went to a fair in the neighbourhood and bought him a pony. It was a great day for Victor when the pony arrived, a brown, lively, hardy, little creature, with the brightest of dark-blue eyes, and such a splendid long tail. Its young master declared at once that it was the most beautiful pony in the world. His brotherin-law smiled at the boy's delight, but could not altogether enter into it, as for his part he was full of disquieting news, which he had heard in the town. A quarrel had suddenly broken out between France few of them had not often been across it; many had friends, relations, and business connections on the other side. Germany hardly seemed a foreign country to them; it was as if the Northumberland folks should be called on to believe that the Scotch, a few miles off, were all at once become their deadly enemies again as of old. Every fine evening they could see the ridges of the Black Forest, standing opposite their own Vosges, like the giant sentinels of France and Germany; and these quiet, honest people found it hard to realise that beyond the Rhine, armies were gathering to slay, burn, and destroy in their beautiful country. And what was it all about? That was what many could not understand. Victor's Pony. Little else would be talked of wherever two or three persons came together, in these days of alarming rumours; and naturally there was some difference of opinion. The good old times seem coming back again!' chuckled old Captain Bignon, a half-pay officer, who in his youth had served under the great Napoleon. "It's worth living, even with the rheumatism, to see another fine war. News of a victory every week, the French flag flying on one town after another; peace dictated in the enemy's capital. Oh! if I were only young enough to see something of it!" "But how would you like to see the enemy dictating peace in our capital?" asked M. Heck, the innkeeper, who came from Luxembourg, and was not yet grown such a fervent patriot as some of his neighbours. 66 Impossible!" cried the veteran, scowling under his thick grey eye-brows. "We should have had you shot, M. Heck, in the old days, for even hinting such a thing. France has the finest army in Europe. These poor Prussians will run away with their tails between their legs at the very sight of our chassepots and mitrailleuses. I bet we are over the Rhine in a week." "I don't see what good Alsace is to get out of it, one way or other," said Alexandre Ackermann. But the captain only stared at him with silent contempt. "For my part," said Madame Heck, "I think that those who make the fighting should do it themselves, and all these poor women who have sons gone for Why can't the conscripts must agree with me. Emperor and the King of Prussia go and shoot at one another, with as many of their courtiers as have a mind, instead of sending poor hard-working lads like Jules and Fritz to make widows and orphans in one another's families, when they never did each other any harm." "That's how ladies understand politics!" put in her husband. "Is it not a terrible thing," said the Protestant pastor of the village, "that two great nations cannot settle their disputes without all the loss and misery of war?' be. "That's how you black-coats talk!" said the captain," but talking is not what makes the world go. Things always have been so, and they always will This war was bound to come; everybody has been expecting it for years, and it may as well come now when we are so well prepared for it. So glory for ever, and down with this beast of a Bismarck! How his people will hate him when it's all over!" "Well, we shall see," added M. Heck, but few people paid much attention to any such suggestions of doubt. Alexandre's private opinion, as often expressed in the bosom of his family, for among his patients he took care to hold his tongue on politics, was something to this effect: "People don't understand when they are well off! If they were only country doctors, for example, they would know what it is not to get their regular meals nor to be allowed to lay quietly in bed, nor to sit comfortably at home with their wives and children, and they would set more value then on the blessings of an easy life. These gentlemen who howl for glory ought to be treated like children, and not allowed to cry for what isn't good for them nor anybody else. Well, if it must be, I hope it will soon be over, for everything will be in a sad muddle till we settle the matter, just as that boy gave us no peace in the house before he got his pony and had done with it. Let us hope all will go well, or as little ill as may be." All the same, he was keen enough to see the papers from day to day. But if his brother-in-law was a bit of a philosopher, Victor, an officer's son, must needs be hotly patriotic. The pony having begun to grow rather a stale subject, its young master had now become quite wild with interest in the war, and when the news of its formal declaration arrived, nobody shouted with more enthusiasm than he; there were millions of people all over France that day shouting just as loud and thinking as lightly what was to come of it. His school had been closed; the building was at once to be turned into a hospital. He spent all his time now riding about the country to look out for the first movement of troops who were to pass through Alsace on their way to the scene of action, which, it was taken for granted, would be beyond the German frontier. That had always been the way in Napoleon's wars. Captain Bignon, the great authority of the neighbourhood in military affairs, had traced out half a dozen plans of the campaign, all upon German soil, one or other of which, he kept assuring everybody, would certainly bring the enemy to sue for peace before many weeks had passed. Then France would extend her frontier to the Rhine, and never more have any trouble from these pretentious Prussians. In one respect the war broke in upon the private plans of the Ackermann family. It had been arranged that they should spend August in the Black Forest, and Victor had looked forward to exploring this picturesque region on his pony. But such a jaunt was now of course out of the question. To get away, however, from the commotion which was about to disturb their quiet valleys, Madame Ackermann took lodgings at a small Belgian watering-place in the Ardennes, the doctor remaining behind for the present to look after his patients. She wished her brother to come with them, but Victor begged hard to be allowed to stay at home with Alexandre. Lulu and the preparations for war were quite enough amusement for his holidays. So the rest of the family went off, leaving these to keep house together at Nordheim as best they could. But first Madame, being of a cautious turn of mind, took care to bury almost all the plate and other articles of value in the garden, for fear of accidents. She knew what war was, she said: she had heard her father tell some strange stories, and the French soldiers were not much more to be trusted than the Prussians. July came to an end with all sorts of exciting incidents and rumours. Slight skirmishes between the outposts of the hostile nations had taken place here and there on the frontier. German Uĥlans were reported to have dashed across and made reconnaissances among the hills of Alsace; one such party had been captured while coolly refreshing themselves at an inn. The French troops came pouring into the country, warmly received by the peasants, who, as a regiment marched through their |