aloud, pulling the rose she had but recently plucked to pieces, and wondering greatly. "But when he is painting he forgets time, and everything else, even me! Artists are very peculiar certainly, and if peculiarity is any criterion of genius, what a great artist he will be !" "No, never a great one, Miss Tregon well," cried a breezy voice, and, following the words, Harold himself stepped on to the verandah; "but an aspiring one, nevertheless, and doubly so since he has the pleasure of such society as Miss Tregonwell's." "You flatter, Mr. Pollamaunter," was all Amy could reply; "but I suppose artists flatter in speech as well as in painting." She was placed in a somewhat painful position, since she feared Harold had heard her recently uttered thoughts, rather an awkward situation for any girl. And so really he had, though he skilfully hid every trace of it, and answered jocularly: "Not always, Miss Tregonwell; as a rule they are a plainspoken set of fellows, too plain of speech perhaps for their own good at all times." Oh, I like independent people," she rejoined, recovering herself completely, "and despise craft of any kind, especially in women." ("A regular philosopher," thought Harold.) "Women are angels," he answered aloud, "at least, I know a woman who is an angel-shall I put it in that way?" She looked at him sharply a moment, and found him as pale as death, and nervously engaged in tearing a flower to pieces-it was a pansy, and meant thought. "Are painters iconoclasts?" she queried, pointing to the blossom at his feet. "Pardon me, Miss Tregon well; but I-I really forgot what I was doing. No, artists are not iconoclasts intentionally, I believe, but, alas! unknowingly, in some cases"—and he, too, looked at the petals at his feet. "You are to-day, sir," she said, with seeming severity; "and let me tell you it greatly detracts from your art.” I humbly beg the death upon my knee," breathed Harold softly, and though he did not suit his action to the words, he poured forth such a cataract of love as quite overwhelmed Amy. As crimson as the roses around her, she stood, her heart beating in strange accord with the outburst, whilst Harold pleaded his cause. He told her of his art, his passion, his hitherto lonely life, how she had awakened his love amongst the pictures, how he had yet his future to make, and had only his brush to make it with, not veiling his true position in the least. "I am only a poor artist, Amy, poor and proud, intensely proud to ever hope for the hand of a Tregonwell's daughter, but I love you, dear, loved you the moment I came upon you so unexpectedly in the gallery, and I shall ever love you, whether you say me ay or nay. May I hope, Amy," he continued, "hope for life and love, or must I leave you, and go back to the old life, the old solitude, the old routine?" What could she say? Had our heroine been proud and haughty, a toss of the head, an imperial gesture, and a few cold words had sufficed for answer. But, as it was, with the true feeling of womanhood, with a feeling true to herself, she bade him hope, and gave him love. He sealed it with a kiss, and there amid the blossoms affection's tale was told : "The sun in all its gladness, was not so glad as they, Just entering from night's portal to love's bright-dawning day; The future, all forgotten; the past and all life's care Was gilded by the promise and trust comingling there!" Ah, sweet indeed to them was the first dawning of love; just as the flower receives its hue from the sunshine, so life is made the rosier for love-it is the very tint of life's own petals. Aroused at length from their trance by an unusual stir in the hall, Amy knew within herself that the young lord of Crayburne Court had arrived-and forthwith she told Harold, with all a woman's gentleness, of her father's motives. "After all, perhaps, only my suspicions, dearest.” Thus did she soften what she felt would prove a blow, and left him then, with an assurance of unalterable affection, to greet, as became a daughter of Tregonwell, her father's guest! (To be continued.) 130 THE THE UNION JACK. BY MRS. ISA FORSYTH. "The flag that lights the sailor on his way, HE primary design of a flag is to make known some fact or want. In the army, the flag is the distinguishing mark of each regiment, but in the navy it is of far greater importance, as it often constitutes the only means, which vessels have of communicating with each other, or with the shore, and, for this purpose, devices of conspicuous colours are hoisted. The use of the flag, under which men are united together for some common purpose, or as a rallying point in battle, takes us back to the world's earliest history. The Jewish army was marshalled by the aid of standards, and in the Song of Solomon we read:-" Who is she that looketh forth in the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners?" The Egyptians had ensigns, with representations of their favourite animals, and, in early Roman times, a bundle of straw on the point of a spear was used as a military standard, but this soon gave place to bronze or silver figures attached to a staff, and, later on, the eagle became the chief ensign. Throughout history we read of many famous banners, and of heroic deeds of valour wrought in their defence. We, in common with all other nations on the face of the globe, have our national flag, which floats over the land of the brave and the free "The meteor flag of England, for we can repeat, with truth, the old Spanish boast: "On our sovereign's dominions, the sun never sets. Never was isle so little, never was sea so lone, But over the scud and the palm-trees an English flag was flown." It is the emblem of British might and valour, and, wherever it goes, it bears with it the proud assurance that those who claim its protection may live in security and peace. There is not a soldier of our beloved Queen who would not die to preserve its glory, and all her loyal subjects rejoice in the respect which the Union Jack commands all the world over. This being so, the history of its origin and development should be of the greatest interest and importance to all. The Union Jack, as we know it, did not spring into existence at once, but has been built up, piece by piece, and every addition to it marks an important epoch in the history of our nation. Its foundation is the Cross, which witnesses to our being a redeemed people, and it is now a "triplet of crosses," for it is a combination of the crosses of St. George, St. Andrew, and St. Patrick. These, as all know, are respectively the patron saints of England, Scotland, and Ireland. In olden times, it was believed that each individual had his or her guardian angel as an ever-present protector, and, in like manner, each country was supposed to have its particular saint to watch. over it. The national emblem of the Cross seems to date from the time of the Crusades, which were military expeditions to the Holy Land, undertaken by Christians, in the eleventh, twelfth and thirteenth centuries, to rescue the country from the power of the Mohammedans. The soldiers of this Christian army bore the sign of the Cross to mark their common purpose, and each contingent was specially distinguished by its uniform and its banner. The French carried a white cross on a blue ground, and the English a red cross on white. The latter, in course of time, came to be called the Cross of St. George, and was constituted the badge of English nationality. But who was St. George, and how did the red cross come to bear his name? The prototype of England's patron saint was a native of Cappadocia, where he was educated in the belief of the gospel by his Christian parents. Removing into Palestine, he was appointed a commander in one of the legions of the Emperor Diocletian the Tyrant. During the height of his military reputation, a cruel persecution of the Christians took place, and St. George, withdrawing himself from the service of the Tyrant, publicly denounced him for his barbarities. Continuing firm in the support of the Christians, he several times underwent torture, and at last was ignominiously drawn through the streets of Lydda, and beheaded on the 23rd April, In the East he was the most highly venerated of all the holy martyrs, and his fame gradually extended to the West. Churches were everywhere dedicated to him, and statues raised in his honour. Other different accounts are given of the career of St. George, and wonderful deeds of valour are attributed to him in the ancient legends and ballads. Chief among these is his victorious combat with the dragon 290 A.D. From time immemorial it has been the practice for all nations to adopt some peculiar cry in their war-like attacks, and Richard Coeur de Lion, impressed by the fame of the saint in the East, attacked and defeated the armies of Saladin on the plains of Jaffa, under the war-cry of "St. George," thus associating his name with the army of the red cross. Edward I. encouraged his followers by the same cry, and his grandson, Edward III., invoking the aid of "God and St. George," defeated the French at Sluys, and thus won the first great naval victory of England, which Froissart, in his Chronicles, describes so graphically. Shakespeare's warriors make frequent use of this war-cry, and on the field of Bosworth, Richard III. exclaims: "A thousand hearts are great within my bosom: In 1348, Edward III. instituted "The most noble Order of the Garter," with the motto, "Honi soit qui mal y pense," and dedicated it to St. George, who has ever since been considered the patron saint of England. Pendant from the collar, in gold and jewels, St. George represents a Christian hero in spiritual armour, vanquishing the old dragon, the great enemy |