thought of a time, not perhaps so very far off now, when with love and friends, and plenty all around he too should keep his wedding-day. And it may be that as he thought the joy in his own heart was none the less intense and sacred because there came mingling with it a remembrance of some of the chastening possibilities of life, and a feeling of kindly sympathy with some other travellers on its road for whom the end of the journey to gether could not be far distant now.

Left alone with his wife Timothy seated himself beside her, and patted her hand encouragingly.

Moll."

"Very fine, dear," and she looked at him with the smile whose sunshine had made life bright to him for SO long.

"Such splendid food and nursing, Moll; and the rooms! why, I'm only afraid you'll be looking down on this poor little place when you come back to it after a bit so well and strong; for it's wonderful how well folks do get in those hospitals, Moll, quite wonderful."

"Yes, Timothy, so they do, very often."

Her lips trembled, but only for a moment. Then, with a brave attempt at cheerfulness, she continued:

"But Tim, my man, it's getting on, and we're wasting such precious time, sha'nt we begin?"

And drawing nearer still, Timothy began. It was an old, old custom with them now. Year after year as the day came round they had kept it together in the same simple fashion, though never before in such a room or with so little to help the keeping. Formerly the little anniversary festival had been as a sort of happy duet between them, each in turn reviving some sweet old memory or cherished recollection, the precious gleanings of a long married life, too dear and sacred for the common handling of every-day use, and only lovingly and tenderly brought out on such a day as this to be dwelt on, laughed at, ay, perhaps wept over too,

the friends-and he named them one by one-who had collected at her home near by to wish them well; and at last of that real home-coming, the settling down in the poor little attic rooms which his love and thought had made so sweet and snug and cosy.

"And the violets," she put in quickly, "don't forget the violets, Tim."

"Aye, the violets, I pinned them on myself, didn't I? The sweetest breast knot I could find for the sweetest lass in all the world to me."

He paused again and she watched him keenly, anxiously.

"Yes, Moll," he resumed presently, "don't let us shirk it, old girl; thenbut his voice sounded strange, and she could barely catch the words, "then came that grand first dinner-party of ours; you and me for guests, and fishfried fish it was, with potatoes, fried potatoes and I don't know what besides; and you laughed so because 1 couldn't help to cook them, do you remember, Moll? Do you remember?" and throwing back his head, Timothy burst suddenly into a laugh so strange and wild that it well-nigh tore poor Molly's heart in two. Then, as suddenly ceasing, he buried his face in his hands and sobbed as though his heart must break, while the quiet tears ran down her old cheeks too, and what could she say to comfort him?

For nine-and-thirty years that little anniversary feast had been celebrated so worthily, every item of that happy

But she shook her head sadly.

"It was for the cab, Tim. There is neither train nor 'bus to help me, and I must go in, you know."

He sat still once more lost in thought. Then jumping up excitedly he stood before her, and spoke fast and eagerly.

"Moll! think! You know the park, quite near? Could you with my arm, my strong arm, dear, could you walk to its gates? You could? Then listen, Moll; I'll carry you through, it's not far, and then, why then, it's but a step on the other side to the hospital door, do you see, old woman, do you see?"

Moll nodded, but looked confused. The nod, however, apparently satisfied him for he offered no further explanation, only asked if she minded being left by herself for a bit, and then, smiling mysteriously, disappeared.

Left alone, Molly lay still, too tired and weak to wonder much at anything, while her mind wandered dreamily back again over the pages of that old life story whose joys and sorrows seemed to-day to have become so strangely merged in one; till at last she remembered no more, the tired eyes closed wearily, and calmly and peace fully old Molly slept.

Timothy's re-entrance awakened her and she smiled a welcome.

He came forward eagerly, his old face flushed and glad, his little body bent half double over the covered tray his shaking arms were carrying SO proudly; a tray from which there is sued forth the all-pervading smell, appetizing or sickening as the case may be, of-fried fish!

for a few moments," he cried out; and still beaming from ear to ear, Tim brought forward the little round table, placed it near Molly's chair, and softly and quickly proceeded to lay it. Fish! potatoes! bread! butter! tea! milk! Why, what more could king or queen desire? And all from the marvellous possibilities of one bright shilling! Then, diving into the mysterious depths of a back pocket, Timothy produced therefrom a little bunch of violets, crushed indeed and faded, but sweet still, and bending softly over Moll he gently fastened them on her breast. Then seating himself opposite to her he told her eagerly she might "look."

Her unaffected surprise was rich reward indeed.

"It's your cab, dear heart," he cried. "Your cab! you couldn't use it and a riding-horse too, could you? and here's your horse all saddled and ready. It's quite right and square, Moll," he added quickly, as he caught sight of an expression of doubt on her honest face. "Didn't the doctor say it was to make the journey easier? and won't it, old girl, won't it? Ah, I thought that would settle it."

Whatever she may have felt, Molly had not the heart to object any further, and so the wedding-feast proceeded.

Timothy picked out the daintiest and most tempting morsels he could find, and for his sake she did her best bravely, but it was hard work. Everything tasted so strangely to-day; even the blessed cup of tea seemed to have lost the magic of its strengthening and reviving powers; and at length, all further effort impossible, she waved off the last proffered morsel and lying back wearily, shook her head.

"Eat it yourself, you don't cheat fair, my man; and, ah Tim," she added sadly, "you've forgotten something after all, for that day you drank health in a glass of beer."

our

Timothy had expected this and was not to be taken at unawares.

A little later, just as the short spring day was drawing to its close, the few pedestrians hurriedly wending their homeward way across that quiet bit of the Park, paused for a moment to gaze at a somewhat unusual sight. It was that of a little old man, weak and tottering himself, but pushing bravely and steadily on with eyes firmly fixed on the still far distant gates, and carrying on his back, her thin arms clasped about his neck, her hands firmly grasped in his, an old sick woman, Molly, his wife.

Hearts are kind, and more than one friendly offer of help had been made to Timothy, but though grateful for the offers he had seemed almost impatient at the delay and declining all assistance had plodded quietly on again.

He could hardly have told how often he had stopped to rest since first that strange journey had been begun; certainly each time that the shelter of a friendly seat had been gained, often of necessity when there had been no such help at hand. Somehow he had fancied himself so much stronger than had proved to be the case, for it surely could not be that Molly was heavier than he had imagined, and she so weak and ill!

At first her cough had been terribly bad and it had torn and hurt him so to hear it; but of late it had seemed to get better and at last it had ceased altogether, and very gratefully Timothy had thanked God for that. A few moments ago they had stopped to rest again for the last time and he had questioned her tenderly as to how she did. Her face looked paler he thought, but she seemed easy and happy, and she had smiled so sweetly at him she answered rather drowsily, "quite comfortable, Timothy, only very

as

sleepy; good-night, my man," and he had kissed her lips tenderly and reverently as he always did, and then cheered and comforted had once more pushed on.

Ah! there were the Park gates almost reached at last; and indeed it was time, for his old arms ached terribly and his old knees threatened to fail him altogether. He spoke encouragingly to her from time to time but she had evidently fallen asleep for she did not answer him. It was better so, he thought, for now she could not guess how tired he was, and it would have hurt and vexed her sorely had she known it; his good old loving Moll!

Only a few more weary steps and the gates were really gained. Passing through them on they went, these two strange travellers, and the little band of urchins in their wake noticed that just before the great door of the hospital came in sight the old man panted more and more and his poor little stock of strength seemed almost exhausted.

Yes, the labor of love was all but over now; one more effort and the goal was reached. Worn and weary, and spent with fatigue, but still clasping tight that precious burden Timothy stumbled up the last steep steps, and as friendly arms drew him into the safe shelter of that fire-lit hall, and kindly faces looked pityingly into his, the place seemed suddenly to become confused and misty, the voices to recede further and further away, till at last, wrapped in a merciful unconsciousness, he remembered no more.

Faithful unto death; his task was done; that kiss in the Park had indeed sealed their last good-bye, and his loving old arms had held her to the end. For, as they gently unclasped her arms from about his neck they saw that Molly was dead.

the "House," he said; the dreaded law of separation had lost all power to hurt him now; he would just take one more look at her and then go home.

They went with him to where she lay, the matron and a doctor; not the friendly young doctor of the morning but another whose face looked unsatisfied and tired. Something had gone amiss with his life-springs of late, and since then he had ceased to believe in the divine possibility of good, either human or divine, and now he eyed Timothy with a half-curious, half-pitying gaze.

The latter shed no tears, had shed none indeed since first they broke the news to him; the comfort of them might come later, perhaps, and there was time enough.

He stood by her side now, perfectly composed and calm, scanning earnestly each still feature as though to learn it the better by heart. Then he laid his honest, old, work-worn hand on hers and kept it there for a moment.

"The ring," whispered the doctor to the matron, "it may buy him a drop of comfort at least. Let him have it."

She hesitated; then touching Timothy gently on the arm she pointed to it.

He glanced towards the doctor as though to bid him good-bye too, but he had moved off from them, and seemed busy over something at the further end of the ward. So Timothy went away.

He had almost reached the great outer hall when he heard the sound of hurrying footsteps behind him and his own name spoken, and turning round he saw the doctor.

The latter looked at him silently for a moment, and there was an expression on his face that had been wanting there of late.

"Will you shake hands with me?"

said the doctor.

A. M. CAMeron.

From The London Times. THE OLDEST CITY IN THE WORLD. To have unearthed the ruins of the oldest city in the world, the foundations of which were laid some six or seven thousand years before the Christian era, is a reward of which an explorer might indeed be proud. Such good fortune seems to have fallen to the lot of Mr. Haynes, who for nearly five years has been in charge of the American expedition engaged in excavating the great

He glanced down at it, such a poor little line of gold, worn thin in long and loving service for him, and shook his head.

"Thank you, ma'am," he answered gratefully. "You're very kind, but I'd rather not. Come good or ill my old woman would never part with that, and I won't take it from her now." He hesitated for a moment, then gaining courage as he looked into the matron's sympathetic face, he continued:

"If I might make so bold, ma'am, would you let me have my dear girl's bonnet?"

Very tenderly she gave it to him, such a poor old rusty thing, and he received it reverently as we do something that is sacred and very precious; then with a grateful "thank you, ma'am," he turned to leave the room.

lonia, the site of the ancient city of Nippur, the sacred city of Mul-lil or the "Older Bel" of the Semites.

The history of the expedition which since 1888 has worked upon this site is a remarkable one; and its great work has been so quietly done that it has attracted but little attention except among students of Assyriology. The work was undertaken by the University of Pennsylvania, the funds, which have amounted to about $70,000, being provided by a small committee interested in the work. The expeditions of 188890 partook rather of a prospecting survey and were under the direction of Dr. 'eters. The trial trenches produced a harvest of about ten thousand tablets and inscribed objects, among them several records of Sargon I. and his son Naram-Sin, whose date, B.C. 3800, was by many regarded

bricks, and formed a broad roadway leading up to the tower. The whole temple enclosure is surrounded by a massive wall, of which more than thirty courses are still visible.

The great mounds of Nuffar are situated on the cast bank of the now dry Shat-en-Nil, a great main artery navigation canal which once connected Babylon with the Persian Gulf. The central feature of the ruins is a vast conical mound-called by the Arabs Bint el Amir, "the Amir's daughter," which rises to a height of nearly twentynine metres above the surrounding plain. This mound marks the site of the great ziggurat or temple stage tower rst built by Ur-Gur, or Ur-Bahu, as he was formerly called-about B.C. 2800, and subsequently repaired and added to by later kings. This vast structure was the central point of the explorations by Mr Haynes.

We have long been familiar with another of the great stage towers, erected by Ur-Gur at Mugayyar, the ancient Ur: but the one at Nippur is the first that has been thoroughly explored. The tower rests on a basis 59m. by 39m., and is built, like most of these Babylonian towers, with the angles to the cardinal points. It appears to have consisted, like that of Ur, of three stages only, not seven, like the later towers at Babylon and Khorsabad. Each stage had a thick coating of plaster, composed of clay mixed with chopped straw; and to protect the lower stake from the winter rain it was faced with kiln-burnt bricks and a coating of bitumen. The ascent was on the south-east side, and here it would seem Mr. Haynes has made a most important discovery. Two walls of burnt brick, 3.40m. high, 16.32m. long, and 7m. from each other, were built out into the temple courtyard, and

The arrangement of this temple and tower of Ur-Gur bears a most striking resemblance to the early Egyptian pyramids, especially Medum and the stepped pyramid of Sakkara, while the causeway recalls that of the second pyramid of Khafra, which connects it with the so-called temple of the Sphinx. The question often suggested by archæologists has been, were these stepped pyramids connected with the temple towers of Chaldea or borrowed from them? There is now, however, a possibility of our reversing this question, in the light of these discoveries at Nippur. The pyramid we know was but an elaboration of the Mastaba, and the resemblance between these and the towers at Ur and Nippur is most striking. Dr. Hilprecht and Mr. Haynes maintain, upon very good grounds, that Ur-Gur was the first to build these ziggurats, and there is certainly no trace of such edifices in any of the older cities, those at Tello or Lagash and Abu Habba, the ancient Sippara, being both later. At no period in early Chaldean history was there so close a contact between Egypt and Chaldea as during the dynasty of Ur-Gur Dungi anu Gudea of Lagash. These rulers, as we know from their numerous inscriptions found at Tello by M. de Sarzec, were in constant communication with Egypt by sea and through the Sinaitic peninsula.