"
Phil had risen while he spoke, as if the enthusiasm of his mood
lifted him into the truer manhood he aspired to attain. Straight and
strong he stood up in the moonlight, his voice deepened by unwonted
energy, his eye clear and steadfast, his whole face ennobled by the
regenerating power of this late loyalty to country, wife, and self,
and bright against the dark blue of his jacket shone the pictured
face, the only medal he was proud to wear.
Ah, brave, brief moment, cancelling years of wrong! Ah, fair and
fatal decoration, serving as a mark for a hidden foe! The sharp
crack of a rifle broke the stillness of the night, and with those
hopeful words upon his lips, the young man sealed his purpose with
his life.
THE KING OF CLUBS AND THE QUEEN OF HEARTS.
A STORY FOR YOUNG AMERICA.
_FIVE_ and twenty ladies, all in a row, sat on one side of the hall,
looking very much as if they felt like the little old woman who fell
asleep on the king's highway and awoke with abbreviated drapery, for
they were all arrayed in gray tunics and Turkish continuations,
profusely adorned with many-colored trimmings. Five and twenty
gentleman, all in a row, sat on the opposite side of the hall,
looking somewhat subdued, as men are apt to do when they fancy they
are in danger of making fools of themselves. They, also, were _en_
costume, for all the dark ones had grown piratical in red shirts,
the light ones nautical in blue; and a few boldly appeared in white,
making up in starch and studs what they lost in color, while all
were more or less Byronic as to collar.
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