Walter L'Estrange.

to admire , all we are wont to uphold . In the very midst of Society ' s dullest routine , all through its garish grandeur ancl its tinsel ornamentation , under its empty show ancl base affectation , its cruel treacheries and its base deceits , there is a life for us all , which is full , as in our story , of all that can attract and adorn , elevate ancl spiritualize humanity . With usancl close around usis that inner lifeeven herewhich uses the

, , , , world as not abusing it , and which is not allured by its flatteries or disconcerted by its frowns . To some of us of shallow minds , weak views , and perverted opinions , Walter l'Estrange may have seemed to live in vain . But not so ; on the contrary we have in his career the epitome of all true life here , courage in despondencyfaith in hopelessnesscheerfulness in disappointmentduty in life

, , , , and self-devotion in death . Like many another simple-minded hero , real ancl true and brave , buried away in the nooks ancl corners of the earth , in battle-fields and under the stormy waves , unknown , unmarked , forgotten of men , he has marched on triumphantly to the golden gates of the " land of the leal . "

A Mason's Story.

A MASON'S STORY .

IT was a beauteous moonlight ni ght . Gloriously the pale orb of night was shedding her lustrous beams o ' er the landscape , flooding moorland and fell , meadow and forest , church and houses , with her mellow light . We all love moonlight nights . They seem to come so naturally , bringing the spell of music , and poetry , and romance , with them . We , who are old , can cast our thoughts back to the time when we were not old ; we can remember times which cause the heart to throbit may be with intense painor it be with

, , may a lingering feeling of pleasure , or perchance a mixture of both ; for it tells of hours passed which can never be recalled , save in dreams , when we wandered arm-linked with those who have perhaps gone before . It tells of those to whom we were all in all , and who were all in all to us . It brings back to us "scenes of our early days which never depart . " And I for one love the moonlight . It is my greatest l ^ iness to walk in itor ling awake to be

p , y cheered ancl comforted by its presence . It seems to me also that it shadows forth an emblem of the peaceful life at last , when all care ancl trouble shall be thrown away ; when we shall walk amid the streets of fine gold , where '' they need not the light of the sun , neither the moon , for the Lamb , which is in the midst of it , shall light them . " But to turn to my narrative . I observed that the moon was shining , and that remark caused me to digress on to a

learned homily regarding the beauties of that particular light , superior to any electric light yet discovered or to be discovered . Let me try to describe the scene as I intended to describe it when interrupted b y my momentary flight into the realms of moralization ancl prosy garrulity . It was a quiet little market town in one of our northern shires , where our narrative first The

opens . moon was casting her beams over the roof , and gables , and spire of Trinity Church , in that town . Over the fields could he seen , stretching away into the west , the bleak and solitaril y grand mountains of Cumberland . Eastward could be observed the towering form of lno-leboro ' rising from a multitudinous group of lesser hills . Northward you could discern the snow-capped summit of Coniston Old Man , and behind him , Helvellyn , while to the south , bonnie Morecambe Bay , dotted with the countless sails of