Deserted, Juliette."

Juliette clung to her husband.

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Pierre the conscript, or Pierre the deserter. Him, with his long hair and beard, and shabby peasant dress, and laggard step. Besides, at a certain time of the day, there was no fear of meeting anyone. The two men employed on the place were off at the other end of the large field, so he went and came with a pleasant confidence.

Each day Pierre returned with a look of hope deferred, and a sad shake of the head, to Juliette's anxious, inquiring glance. At last, one bright sunshiny day-one of a succession of bright days-Pierre returned from his usual walk. To be sure, if Juliette's ear had not been filled with the sweet prattle of the boy, who was playing with the babe in her arms, she might have detected a difference in his step. She looked up, with the come-to-be-habitual inquiry, "Not yet?" in her face, as she placed the little Juliette among her playthings upon the floor. One glance at her husband's face told her all. What a beautiful expression it had brought from the home of the dead to that of the living! He held a tiny object in his

They will come again, Pierre." "Not yet, Juliette; they will not come again yet. I must remain here awhile. Oh, I prayed them to let me come; but they were deaf to all my prayers, and I am here. Night and day I thought of her, out there in her grave, and I could not rest-I could not stay. Mother! mother! you told me if I left you, I would break your heart. I have done it. You should be alive now, but I have killed you!" And Pierre buried his face in his hands. Up and down the floor of that little room he strode in his grief. "Oh, Juliette! it is so cold and silent out there, and I called upon her, but she did not answer; and when did I ever speak to her in vain before? Will she forgive me? Has she forgotten me? How can I live with-hand. Juliette gave a cry of delight, and the out her love? Mother! mother! where are you? Darkness, only darkness is where you were!" And all through that night the strong man gave vent to his grief amid the gloom of a vanished light, the desolation of a vanished love, while the weak woman, strong in sorrow, and clinging in joy, stood by him to soothe and encourage.

There came another trouble. Pierre must be concealed. "It may not be for a long time," he would say to Juliette. The low attic above the main part of their cottage was mostly used for storage, and was rarely entered, excepting during the winter; the ladder leading to this went up from Juliette's own room. The only female help was a deaf, elderly woman, who at night occupied the small room off the kitchen, and during this time of the year helped in the field, while her mistress did the indoor work.

two, falling upon their knees, bent over the treasure lying in Pierre's broad palm, pressed upon it each a kiss, and with eyes tearful in joy, raised towards Heaven, joined in the one word-" Mother!"

A few brief hours more of home and lovea fearful looking forwards to the dark fate gathering around them, and Pierre was once more the strong man-Juliette, though still the loving, sorrowing wife, the firm, true woman.

"It must be Juliette; and yet I feel as though all will yet be right, however dark it may now seem. Cheer up, and hope."

The next day, Pierre Pastelot, who had been searched for since the morning when, at the roll, no response had been made to his name, delivered himself up as a deserter. He was sentenced to be shot one week from that day. The distance of the throne from the people How happiness and unhappiness jostled each depends upon the character of those occupying other in the little home! Day after day Pierre it. Deafened to insensibility, by the cocoon of kept his prison garret, his children for company, greatness in which it is often enwrapped, the while now and then his wife would peep in voice of subject, unable to penetrate the foldupon him, with tender words and hopeful, and ings of vain state, falls upon air. But when return to her work with a heart heavy and filled from their centre, like suns, thrones shed around with forebodings over all, there yet beaming them rays of goodness and warmth upon which the joyous thought of the loved presence once the cold and suffering may cling and be benefited, how approachable they are, how the people rise up and call them blessed, and how blessed must they feel themselves!

more.

At a short distance lay the village grave-yard. Pierre could see the white crosses gleaming up into the sunshine from the little square window of his garret-prison. The cottage stood a short distance from the village, the land belonging to it lying in that direction. On the other side of it ran the hedge of a large orchard, off from this cut a half path, half road, which after a quick angle led through a dense coppice of willows, up from where, across a small brook, and on the slope of a low hill, was the graveyard. Here, each day, through this retired place, came Pierre, to visit his mother's grave. No one could have recognized him, either as

The pleading, but clear and distinct words, "Take me to the Empress," uttered by the woman standing there in the sunlight of that bright spring morning, burdened with her year-old, chubby babe, which slept in her arms, were not long in reaching the royal ear. It was the Empress herself who heard them, as with her bevy of court beauties, in the freedom she so much loved, she was enjoying the radiant sunshine and pure morning air. And the picture from whence the words came so pleadingly would have attracted eye of artist or Empress.

A young creature, in the picturesque peasantdress of the country, stood in the relief of the great trunk of a large tree, against which she had been leaning. The little cap seemed to scarcely touch the golden hair that rippled off around the small head, and above the broad white forehead. She bent forwards, one arm around the babe, the other extended in supplication, while the large blue eyes, beneath their weights of dark fringe, looked beseechingly up into the face turned towards her. "Take me to the Empress." And the red parted lips quivered and closed, as though in weariness of the one burden they had the long morning borne. The sunlight shimmered through the branches of the great tree, and scattered in silvery showers upon the two, the peasant woman and the Empress, as the latter, having motioned away her women, gently took the heavy child from the mother, seated herself upon the stone seat near her, and laying the little sleeper across her lap, looked up kindly, with the words, "I am the Empress, my child. What can I do for you?"

A quick gleam flashed over the face of the peasant woman; then the lids fell over the great blue eyes; she sank on her knees at the feet of the Empress, while choking sobs surged up from the overcharged heart. After this burst of emotion, in which the overtasked heart found relief, with a look of peaceful confidence she gazed up into the fair, kind face bending over her.

child. Your husband shall not die. God only knows how I prize this opportunity of rendering a home happy." She gazed down upon the babe sleeping sweetly on her lap, and a tear gathered in her eye as she thought of that, but one tender young life, which could set the seal upon her life happiness. Tenderly placing the babe in the young mother's arms, with a kind adieu, and an assurance of Pierre's safety, the Empress joined her ladies, and disappeared from the sight of the now happy Juliette.

It was when, a few hours after this interview, the Emperor had requested her presence, that the Empress presented her petition. And when had petition of hers ever been refused? This one, on this day, most certainly was not in vain.

The day was drawing to its close. Pierre's request to see his wife had been granted, but Juliette had not yet come. Up and down his cell strode the condemned. To-morrow morning, ere the sun could drink all the dew from the flowers, and the birds had finished their matin songs, he would have crossed the cold sea from which warm, bright life so shrinks. Would that mother for whose sake he had incurred this death meet him on the other shore ? "Mother! mother! a little while and we shall meet!" And up and down, in the solitude of his prison, Pierre strode, and prayed. The jailor brought in his supper. He heeded him, saw him not. He pressed his burning forehead against the cold stone. "Mother! Juliette! home!" A form stood before him. The sunset beams slanted down through the grated window upon a face, out of which a pair of eyes were searching his. Pierre knew the face

What soldier of France did not? The deserter fell upon his knees. "Sire!"

"Pierre Pastelot, you are a deserter from the ranks of the army of France. You are condemned to die. Do you not fear death?"

"No Sire; but I love life. I have a wife and children."

"I know you are," said she, naïvely. "Mother Margate told me so well how you looked." And Juliette went on with her simple story. How Pierre had been conscripted, Dame Mar--those eyes. gate's meeting with the Empress at the little chapel, her husband's resolution to serve France, their mother's death, and Pierre's desertion, and his delivering himself up. "You will save him, madame—I know you will. I knew, if I could see you face to face, as Mother Margate did, you would pity us, and save Pierre. They told me the court was here, and that you were out in the grounds every morning with your ladies, and I, said I will come here, too, and every one I meet, I will say to them, take me to the Empress; for I thought that you, who are so good, would have some around you good also, and that they might pity me, and take my words to you; and then I was sure you would have the goodness to let me see you face to face. To-morrow he is to die. Oh, madame! you will save Pierre-you will not allow my husband to die?"

At the mention of the name of Dame Margate the Empress drew her hand across her brow, looked for a moment back into the past, and vividly the old woman weeping upon the steps of the chapel rose before her. And here was the Juliette of her simple story told by the old woman amid the tears shed over the useless neuvaine. Laying her hand upon the rippling wealth of hair, and looking down into the plead ing, upturned eyes, in a sweet voice she said "Go back to your home with a light heart, my

"A soldier who deserts knows his fate. Why incur the penalty?"

Pierre arose to his feet, drew his thin, almost emaciated form to its full height, and looked down upon the master of empires before him. The large, dark eyes were bright and dialted, the pale, haggard face seemed glorified, as if from an inward light, as one moment upturned to heaven, it bent towards the Emperor.

Sire, my mother died. I begged for leave of absence. It was denied me. I knew that I had broken her heart. I was her all. I was conscripted; the Empress gave her the wherewith for a substitute; but I was a soldier of France, and had no right to do aught than my duty. As such I left her in spite of her tears-her pleading; and when they told me she was dead, I knew that I had killed her! Sire, with us it is a belief that the first flower which grows from the grave-mould possesse a power that prevents the dead from forgetting you, and you also from forgetting them-belief how dear-how pleasant! With it death has

my

no terror, for death without being forgotten or forgetting, is only a delightful sleep, but a sweet rest after a long toil; and that flower! how I longed to see it bloom-panted to gather it! I deserted, and hastened on my way to find the precious treasure. After ten days of weary, toilsome journey, I reached mother's grave. It was yet new-the earth was still fresh above it, and not even a spear of grass had found root there. No flower yet appeared. I waited. Seven weeks elapsed, and then one beautiful sunny morning I found a little flower -a forget-me-not. As I gathered it, I shed tears of joy, for I thought that little flower was a message from my mother, and I knew I was forgiven, and that she remembered and loved me still. How happy I felt! and now I could willingly give myself up as a deserter. Sire, I can die! God will take care of my wife and children."

"Sire! Sire!"

And the dark form lay prone upon the ground. The arbiter of kings and people stooped, pressed his hand upon the bowed head, turned, and passed through that prison-door, which from a portal of death he had rendered an egress to bright, beautiful life.

The birds sang their songs, the coming harvests waved in the glad sunshine, and reunion blest the little cottage. Upon the simple prayers of the household were borne three names-that of the now sainted mother who had given love to the humble home, of the fair woman who had blessed it with her sympathy and kindness, and of him who had shielded it from the shadows of death. Number Four still strode through the land, but it could never again dim the sunshine of happiness in Pierre Pastelot's cottage; and Pierre, the pardoned deserter, was also Pierre the honourably

The night-shadows deepened in that prisoncell, and upon the silence broke the words-discharged soldier. "Pierre Pastelot, you are pardoned!"

THE TOILET.

(Specially from Paris.)

Transparent robes of gauze or muslin over coloured silk slips, and those of pearl-grey, or pearl-blue silk, trimmed with guipure or lace, predominated. The mantelet Marie Antoinette, of a self material with the robe, or of black or white lace, seemed to be the prevailing compliment to the costumes, and few things can be lighter, more graceful, or better suited to the lovely weather. Bonnets of white tulle trimmed with

FIRST FIGURE.-Metternich green pou-de-soie dress, trimmed at bottom with a deep Marie-Antoinette flounce, over which is worn a tunic trimmed with a pinked silk ruche, and a green silk fringe. Lamballe mantelet with two large square ends falling in front and terminated by a fringe. Bonnet of silvergray straw, trimmed with a diadem of black lace and a bouquet of small red geraniums. Muslin collar and sleeves fluted. Green silk parasol, with a carved han-blond lace and flowers, not one of which appeared to dle of rhinoceros horn.

SECOND FIGURE.-Silk skirt, striped white and pink, finished at the bottom with a Marie-Antoinette flounce. Pink silk tunic, opening on the left, rounded off in front and behind, and surrounded with a deep flounce of black lace. The corsage cut ofa piece with the tunic is fastened at the side. The sleeves are trimmed up the outer seam with a pink chicory ruche. Greek coiffure, raised in front, with curls behind, and a pink tuft at the side. Bonnet of black Spanish blond with long barbs and an agrafe of roses at the side. Black satin boots.

The Handel Festival, and more recent Rose-show at the Crystal Palace, have been to the élite of fashion, at home, what the Derby of Chantilly proved to the Parisians an occasion for the display of the newest phantasies, and most costly materials in dress.

resemble another in ornamentation, though all bore a close relationship in style, added to the agreeableness of the tout ensemble.

Here and there we observed a Watteau toilet, with square-cut low (body, showing a great deal of the neck for the display of colliers of gold, or pearl, or other jewels.

For young ladies, costumes of white alpaca, trimmed with mauve or blue or green ribbon, were in the ascendant, and in their freshness and simplicity were without doubt amongst the prettiest dresses present. Several silk robes, cut round without trains and trimmed with a fluted flounce, with high and plain corsage buttoning in front, looked comfortable amidst the prevailing length of train trodden under foot, or crumpled up in disorder to escape being so. By the way, the great paniers behind are abandoned

during the hot weather, because, says our correspond-muslin, and at the same time preserve a fashionable ent, "qu'ils se chiffonnent trop facilement en etoffes appearance. At present one of the newest styles is égères" in their stead: the tunic or the Watteau pre- the tunic, rounded before and behind, and relieved a dominates. Leaving the rich silks and richer laces to the sides. It may be made in linon, muslin, la Sultane, rich wearers, it is pleasant to know that good taste and above all of foulard, which is the prettiest intercan help the less wealthy to be equally well dressed, mediate between the transparent and the silk robe. at a cost that comes even within modest means. The Apropos, shot silks are again in fashion. lace-toilets can be replaced with ones of tarlatane or

m.

D. English.

Long treble crochet.
Miss.

TATTING.

Double stitch; one French and one

PRINTER'S MARKS.

IN THE DIRECTIONS FOR EVERY KIND OF WORK.

These consist of crosses X sometimes printed as the ordinary letter X; asterisks -daggers, t. They are to indicate repetitions in any row or round. Two similar ones are placed at the beginning and end of any part to be repeated, and the number of times is written after the last. Thus, x 3 dc, 5 ch, miss 4, X 3 times, would, if written in full, be 3 dc, 5 ch, miss 4; 3 dc, 5 ch, miss 4; 3 dc, 5 ch, miss 4.

Sometimes one pair of marks is used within another, thus-X 5 dc, 3 ch, miss 2; * 1 dc, 3 ch, miss 2* twice; 4 dc, 2 ch, miss 1 x twice. This, written at length, would be 5 dc, 3 ch, miss 2, 1 dc, 3 ch, miss 2; 1 de, 3 ch, miss 2; 4 dc, 2 ch, miss 1; 5 dc, 3 ch, miss 2; 1 dc, 3 ch, miss 2; 4 dc, 2 ch, miss 1.

This example will show much valuable space is saved by the adoption of these very simple and comprehensible terms.

Round. A line of work beginning and ending at the same place, without turning back.

Row.-A line of work which requires you to turn it in order to recommence. Example: We speak of rows in a garter, and rounds in a stocking.

ROUND D'OYLEY OR HEAD-DRESS.

THE CENTRE STAR.

MATERIALS-Boar's Head crochet cotton, of Messrs. Walter Evans and Co., Derby.

Commence by working 12 patterns of the pearl by turning the cotton twice round the Vandyke Edging," in the May number, finish-pin, work 1 double and draw close; join the ing at the 48th rosette; then leave an end of cotton to the same oval as the last; then join the cotton to the extra pearl, keeping it in the centre of the loop, and sufficiently loose not to contract it; then join to the centre pearl of the next oval.

cotton.

1st Oval. Fill the shuttle, commence a loop, leaving an end, work 6 double stitches, then (1 pearl and 2 double alternately, 5 times); draw close.

2d. Commence, work 2 double, join to the last pearl; 2 double, join to the next pearl; 2 double; then (1 pearl and 2 double, 5 times); draw close.

Work 10 ovals more the same as the last, and when the 12 are made, keep the cotton at the back and join it to the centre pearl of the last oval; then to make it round, thread a sew

ing-needle with the end of cotton and join the

1st and last ovals together.

The Joining Ovals-1st Oval. Commence loop, work 1 double, then (1 pearl and one double, 4 times); take the Vandykes and join to the 4th pearl of one of the rosettes which form the point; then 1 double, join to the 5th pearl of the same rosette; 1 double, then (1 pearl and 1 double, 4 times); make an extra

2d. Commence, work 1 double, join to the extra pearl loop already attached; then repeat from all round; when the 12 ovals are finished, fasten off. Sew the end Vandykes together to make them round.

Work 12 scallops of the "Gimp Edging," which we will give next month, omitting the 'Heading."

66

should now be tacked on a round of toile cirée, To attach it to the centre star, the two pieces or stiff paper, and the wheels made which join them together, using finer cotton; the rosette at the point of each Vandyke is to be sewn to the gimp edging by joining a pearl of the same ovals to the two centre pearls of it.

A wheel is also to be made in the centre star. The work should now be taken off the paper.