“Again I beg of you,” said he, “to keep that bewildered stare. You look like the head of S. John the Baptist, cut off and laid on a dish, that is painted in our church. I suppose it is because you are so unhappy! The general will no doubt send after you to have you hanged—unless he sends you the Cross of the Legion of Honor....” “The cross!” cried Jeannet, seizing the game‐keeper by the arm. “Yes indeed, idiot! I know how soldiers talk; would the colonel have said as much unless he was sure of the fact?” “The cross!” repeated Jean‐Louis, with tears in his eyes. “O Jacques Michou! if it were true!” “That would make you bold, eh? And it would be a fine present to take back to Muiceron.” “Hush!” said Jeannet: “the bare thought makes me crazy.” “I hope not,” replied Michou; “but I would be half wild myself. Come, now, let us be off; we have earned our dinner. M. le Marquis is asking for you.” “Wait a moment, good, kind Jacques,” said Jean‐Louis. “I have not yet thanked you; and yet I know you saved my life.” “What nonsense!” said Michou, who in his turn looked embarrassed. “In such a battle, do you think a fellow looks after any one’s skin but his own?” “Oh! I saw you,” replied Jeannet. “You sprang before me, or I would have been killed.” “Listen,” said Michou in a solemn tone, “before God, who hears me, and conducts all by his divine hand, it was not so much your life that I wished to save, ... it was another’s that I wished to take.” “How?” “We should not love revenge,” replied the game‐keeper; “but the temptation was too strong; faith! I am ready to confess it, if it was a sin—of which I am not sure. Jeannet, he who aimed at you from the barricade—didn’t you recognize him?” “No,” said Jeannet, “I saw no one.” “It was Isidore Perdreau. God have mercy on his soul!” said the game‐ keeper, blessing himself. “My poor Barbette in heaven will ask for my pardon....” To Be Continued. Fragment Of Early English Poetry. To Those Who Get Their Lyvyne By The Onest Craft Of Masonry. Knele ye both ynge and olde, And both yer hondes fayr upholde, And say thenne yn thys manere, Fayre and softe withouten bere; Jhesu, Lord, welcome Thou be Yn forme of bred as y The se; Now Jhesu for Thyn holy name, Schielde Thou me from synne and schame, Schryff and hosel, grant me bo, Ere that y schall hennus go. —_Christian Schools and Scholars._ Self‐Education.(69) Words the most familiar, and which convey to the mind the most clearly marked associations of ideas, very frequently grow vague and obscure when we seek to limit their meaning by accurate and scientific definitions. When we attempt to define that which is complex, or to make a generalization of facts of diverse natures, we find it extremely difficult to avoid including more than we intend, or leaving out something that should be embraced.