THE Cordises were to give a party upon the evening of the day which marked Deck's entrance into the great firm of Cordis, Cordis & Co. An additional flutter of excitement followed the invitations, since it was rumored that it was also to announce the engagement between the eldest Miss Cordis and the new junior partner. It was in truth a kind of feast of the Prodigal Son, over which Deck groaned and chafed in secret. Few of us like to confess our misdeeds to the sound of a trumpet.

"Have you accepted ?" Mrs. Esterly asked Elinor. She hardly knew how to approach the subject, which had never been entered upon between them since that day when they sat together over the fire in the morning-room

a month before.

"Yes," she replied: O! yes; she should go, of course, she thought, sighing. People always went; they dressed and danced, and laughed and sang, though the earth crumbled to atoms beneath their feet-as it would one day, perhaps, while the play went on. They are not exactly our set," Mrs. Esterly said, meditatively. "But then one should not despise the bone and muscle of society." And she patted her silken knee while an expression of benevolence crossed

her face.

"Especially where it is gilded," Elinor said. Poor Elinor's voice sounded sharp and strange, even to herself. But everything had changed to her. The lights had all gone out. The beautiful world was shrunken and shriveled. There was nothing true or stead

fast any more. mouth.

The taste of ashes was in her

"And then," Mrs. Esterly went on, too much engrossed with her own thoughts to heed the words, "they have been kind Deck; I could almost love them for that." And real tears shone in her eyes. There was a little stab in the words with all their feeling: for had not Elinor turned from him in that summer which seemed now so long gone by? Mrs. Esterly was not sure, she had never known the truth of it, but a little soreness had lingered in her heart towards the girl, believing this. But when one has had a heavy blow a lesser one is unheeded; and the stab was nothing to Elinor.

"Make yourself pretty to-night," was Mrs Esterly's parting injunction. The soreness had passed away for the time, and love for Elinor predominated. It was a pity, after all, that Deck should be carried off by those Cordis girls, with their sharp black eyes and dusky faces that looked for all the world as though the smoke from the iron-works had drifted into their blood. She would make one effort at least to save him. Elinor smiled at the words a little sadly. So it had come to that! Only a few short months since the prettiness-if there had been anyhad come of itself-a shining out of the inner warmth and joy. Now she was to make her self pretty. She remembered it again when she took up the delicate white robe laid out for her to wear. It brought back the night when she last met Diedrich Lisle-when she stood in the door, faint and frightened-then Mrs. Esterly's words came back to her: "Make yourself pretty to-night." Like a snare? Ah! no, no, she could not do that. The dress fell from her hands-a heap of soft, yellow lace, of lilies and shining silk-as the tears gathered in her eyes. God forgive her! For a moment she almost wished Diedrich Lisle were what he had been a year before, so that he still were hers! Had she urged him to a better life only to see it offered else where! Would another wear her crown? And must she join in the triumphal proces sion and sing pæans over his return? Ah, it. is like life! it is like God-she had almost said. Our desires, strong as prayers, are turned back upon us like daggers-to wound our hearts in the answering. Then she stood up frightened, aghast. What had she said? What had she thought? O! how selfish had been all her efforts after all. She had thought only of blessing her own life through his. She had urged him to be everything good and noble and true; but it was to be

her-O, for her. If she could forget herIf! If she could rejoice in the happiness which she held no part! Ah, if we could do that, heaven would have come to us re!

At least, I can bear it," she said; and aybe if she tried to make her heart strong der the burden the rejoicing would come and by-who knew? Even with this ought came the divine lightening of the ad, as though a hand mighty but unseen fad touched it.

She laid away the pretty white robe, and hose in its place something heavy and dark end crimson. "How unseasonable!" Mrs. Esterly exclaimed, when Elinor came down her at last. And no ornaments! Why, linor, you have forgotten!"

"I have forgotten nothing," she answered except that you were to come so early. m afraid I have kept you waiting."

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I

"It is very odd," Mrs. Esterly said, critially, still examining Elinor's dress, "but, fter all, exceedingly becoming, and so disStinguished!" and she pulled with a dissatisfied air at the countless pale green bows upon sher own gown, which seemed all at once overtrimmed.

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It was late when they reached Merrivale Square and the Cordis mansion, every window of which was like a flame. "But one Cannot be too late at such houses," Mrs. Esterly whispered, when they had gained the dressing-room. "It is something to escape one hour at least of martyrdom, and nobody knows how many awkward introductions to people one really cannot recognize again." Then she led the way to the rooms below. "A crush of course-such people always think there is strength in numbers.' But the remark was lost upon Elinor, who was making her stately courtesies and saying the words which one always says as in a dream, hardly conscious of the flaring lights and gayly-dressed throng about her, knowing only that Diedrich Lisle stood near. Her dress brushed him as she passed, but his head was bent to the dark girl whose hand he had just released from his arm-Za Cordis, it was, who shook out her scarlet and gold plumage, and flashed a smile from her dusky eyes as the gown swept by. With the passionate sweet strains of the waltz dying away upon her ear came a thrill of pain to Elinor.

crimson

"But

I can bear it," she was saying to herself bravely. "O! I can bear it." For had she not caught a glimpse of his face-the handsome face made strong by a new purpose! The music changed into a wild clash and

jangle of joy, and a sudden gladness filled her heart-almost like the rejoicing which was to have come by and by.

They passed on down the rooms-Mrs. Esterly with a graceful word for the people it was safe to know, and a polite obliviousness to every one else.

as

"Mr. Jocelyn! A mercy, I am sure; Jack Jocelyn's countenance beamed upon them. "If you could take us out of this! I suppose there must be a place somewhere for one to breathe. Horrible is it not? There, that will do, thank you," when they had gained a wide corridor, comparatively empty, which led to the ball-room. "A galop, is it? Certainly, Elinor, I see Major Spence is trying to reach us; but it seems likely to be a work of time don't wait, I shall do nicely now, and you can find me here when you return.' So Elinor, leaning upon Jack Jocelyn's arm, followed the crowd to the ball-room.

Such a wearisome dance as it was! with Jack Jocelyn radiant and happy, whispering she knew not what in her ear, while the music that tried to be gay but held ever a minor refrain, like a sad recollection, bore them on and on. "You are tired," he said at last, tenderly. Why did you not tell me?" for | Elinor's feet had suddenly lagged in the measure, while a strange faintness crept over her as, after one breathless pause, while her heart stood still and the blazing lights blurred and dimmed before her eyes, there came slowly borne to her down the length of the room the song which Deck had chanted upon the rocks the song which needed no words. It was nothing, he had said, without the twinkle of dancing feet.

"Take me away," she whispered; "O! Jack, please take me away."

It was a pretty little nest under the winding stairs where he led her; half hidden by a curtain of trailing vines, softly lighted; a bower from an old song, all fragrant with heliotropes, all silver and pink-even to the rosebuds under the slippered feet. She lay back in one of the delicate gothic chairs, her eyes closed, her hands fallen upon her knee-like a pictured queen who had found her crown heavy for the moment and so had laid it aside; like some poor young queen who carried a queen's heart-heavy and sad-Jack Jocelyn thought, and yet never guessing the truth; thinking only of her beauty and her weariness, and reproaching himself.

Suddenly the vines swayed and parted. It was Diedrich Lisle who flung the pretty green curtain aside, tearing it in his haste. "Elinor!" he exclaimed, with a great gladness in

I

his voice. She started, sitting upright, unclosing her eyes, the red called back to her cheek; then he hesitated, he stood still in his place staring at Jack Jocelyn, whose hand rested upon the back of her chair. All the eagerness and joy died out of his face. am too late," he said, turning slowly away. But Elinor rose from her chair. No queen ever left her throne in such haste. "I think," she began, stammering and blushing, and yet drawing near, "I believe I have been waiting for you." And she laid her hand in his arm. The flowers in her lap had fallen to the floor. Her gown swept them as he led her away.

Jack Jocelyn, picking up the bruised, forgotten blossoms, gazed after her confused, stunned, a blur before his eyes.. Poor Jack Jocelyn!

"I dared not come to you,-not yet at least," Deck was saying; "but I thought if you were here to-night I should know; I had given it up in despair, when half an hour ago some one spoke your name. I have searched everywhere for you since then. 'Proud as a queen,' they said, when they spoke your name; —and I—I am a mechanic, Elinor, while you are born to the purple. I have worked with

Wha

my hands, perhaps I may again; I like it, believe I have found my place at last. do you say to that?" He spoke hurriedly anxiously, but with no shame in his voic rather with honest pride.

"What do I say?" Elinor answered wit a soft little laugh,-all this seemed as nothin to her. Besides she had known it for a lon time, longer than he imagined. "I will sa anything you wish, Deck."

What could he desire more?

"O, you silly people!" was Mrs. Esterly comment and congratulation when they stoo hooded and cloaked under the porte-cochèr at last, waiting for the carriage; "when a this might have been a year ago or more, an saved a deal of heart-ache." And sh glanced at Elinor as she spoke.

Deck had taken a heavy plaid from his own shoulders and was throwing it over Eli nor's white wrap to shield her from the chil night air. "Are you sorry ?" she asked, anx iously searching his face, under the gas-light

'No, a thousand times no," he answered At which Mrs. Esterly wondered; but Elinor understood it all, and was content.

begins his pleasing task by raising dark and unfounded insinuations as to the legitimacy of his hero, and then occupies from twenty-five to thirty pages with evidence to prove that Mr. Lincoln was a confirmed infidel, and died playing a "sharp game on the Christian community:" that, in his "morbid ambition for popularity," he would say good Lord or good Devil, "adjusting his religious sentiments to his political interests." In meeting these insinuations and charges I shall necessarily have recourse to political documents and papers, but it shall not be my aim to parade Mr. Lincoln's political opinions, further than to eliminate from his writings and speeches his religious sentiments.

As to the ungracious insinuation that Mr. Lincoln was not the child of lawful wedlock, I have only to say that it is an insinuation unsupported by a shadow of justifiable evidence. The only thing on which Mr. Lamon bases the insinuation is, that he has been unable to find any record of the marriage of Mr. Lincoln's parents. Just as if it would be any evidence against the fact of their marriage if no record could be found. If every man in this country is to be considered as illegitimate who cannot produce his parents' certificate of marriage, or find a record of it in a family Bible anywhere, there will be a good many very respectable people in the same category with Mr. Lincoln. Such an insinuation might be raised with as much plausibility in the case of multitudes of the early settlers of the country. It is a questionable act of friendship thus to rake the short and simple annals of the poor," and upon such slender evidence raise an insinuation so unfounded. But I am prepared to show that if Mr. Lamon has found no record of the marriage of Mr. Lincoln's parents, it is simply because he has not extended his researches as faithfully in this direction as he has in some others. It appears that there is a well-authenticated record of the marriage of Thomas Lincoln and Nancy Hanks, and, in the same connection, the birth of Abraham Lincoln and Sarah Lincoln. Hearing that the Hon. J. C. Black, of Champaign, Ill., a warm personal friend of Mr. Lincoln, had in his possession several papers, given to him soon after Mr. Lincoln's death by a member of the family, and among them a leaf from the family Bible containing the record of the marriage of Mr. Lincoln's parents, I at once telegraphed to him in relation to this record, and have in my possession the following letter, which will explain

itself:

J. A. REED:

CHAMPAIGN, ILL., Jan. 8th, 1873

DEAR SIR-Your telegram of the 7th reached this A.M. In reply permit me to say that I was possession of the leaf of which you speak, and whi contained the record of the marriage of Thos. L coln and Nancy Hanks, the birth of Abraham Linco and Sarah Lincoln. The leaf is very old, and is t last page of the Apocrypha. It was given to me, wit certificate of genuineness, by Dennis F. Hanks 1866. I have sent both record and certificate to W P. Black, Att'y at law, 131 Laselle street, Chicago, I and duly by him delivered to the Illinois Historic Association. Hon. I. N. Arnold called on m brother and obtained the originals for use in a revise edition of his life of Lincoln, and I understand th since then they have passed into the hands of Rob Lincoln, Esq., where they were when I last heard fro them. Hoping that what I have written may be I remain very truly yours,

some.use,

J. C. BLACK

Presuming that the first of Col. Lamon libels upon Mr. Lincoln's memory is thus sufficiently disposed of, I proceed to consider the charges against his religious life and char acter. The best refutation of these charges. lies on the pages of the book in which they are advanced. However skeptical Mr. Lin coln may have been in his earlier life, Mr. Lamon persists in asserting and attempting to prove that he continued a confirmed skep tic to the last: that he was an unbeliever in the truth of the Christian religion, and died an infidel; that, while "he was by no means free from a kind of belief in the supernatural, he rejected the great facts of Chris tianity as wanting the support of authentic evidence;" that, "during all the time of his residence at Springfield and in Washington, he never let fall from his lips an expression which remotely implied the slightest faith in Jesus Christ, as the Son of God and the Saviour of men;" that "he was at all times an infidel." From twenty-five to thirty pages of evidence is produced in proof of this allegation.

But all this positive statement as to Mr. Lincoln's persistent and final infidelity is contradicted by the admissions of the book

itself. It is admitted that there did come a time in Mr. Lincoln's life at Springfield when he began to affiliate with Christian peo ple, and to give his personal presence and support to the church. It is admitted that he did so plausibly identify himself with the Christian community that "his New Salem associates and the aggressive deists with whom he originally united at Springfield gradually dispersed and fell away from his side." Here is the fact, openly and squarely stated by Mr. Lamon, that Mr. Lincoln even while at Springfield, did make such a change in his sentiments and bearing to