The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. XX, No. 994, January 14, 1899

By CLARA THWAITES.
All rights reserved. ]
There are hours when voices call us From earth and sea and sky, To take the benediction Which falleth from on high; And ere they fleet, their benison Our eager hands may hold, Bring out your every chalice, When heaven is raining gold!
There are days of bright endeavour, When the spirit is aflame To reach unto the utmost That human heart may claim: Press on, ere daylight dieth; Press on, true heart and bold; Possess the good thou cravest, When heaven is raining gold!
There are times of glad refreshing, When roses strew our path, In summer's bright effulgence Or autumn's aftermath. Hereafter we may wander In darkness on the wold, Rejoice, with joy undoubting, When heaven is raining gold!
The storms will surely gather, The sunshine will not last, But the heart may count her treasures When the skies are overcast. Possessions past revealing May be ours, and wealth untold, If we but seize Love's largess, When heaven is raining gold!

A TALE OF THE FRANCO-ENGLISH WAR NINETY YEARS AGO.
By AGNES GIBERNE, Author of “Sun, Moon and Stars,” “The Girl at the Dower House,” etc.
FRIENDS IN NEED.
“I want to look up a Mr. and Mrs. Curtis—a young artist and his wife. He was pointed out to me at appel . They were at Brussels on their wedding tour when the arrest took place, and I'm afraid it is a serious matter with them, in more ways than one. Mr. Kinsland asked me to call.”