Alas! the day is spent and eve draws nigh;
The king's first subject dies--for naught,
And wasted moments by the hundred score
Of past years rise like spectres grim
To warn, that these days may not idly glide away.
Oh, New Year, youth of promise fair!
What dost thou hold for me? An aching heart?
Or eyes burnt blind by unshed tears? Or stabs,
More keen because unseen?
Nay, nay, dear youth, I've had surfeit
Of sorrow's feast. The monarch dead
Did rule me with an iron hand. Be thou a friend,
A tender, loving king--and let me know
The ripe, full sweetness of a happy year.




THE UNKNOWN LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.


A new gem has been added to sacred literature, and this is the
accidental discovery by Nicolas Notovich of a Buddhist history of a
phase of Christ's life left blank in the Scriptures.

Notovich, an adventurer, searching amid the ruins of India, delving deep
in all the ancient Buddhistic lore, accidentally stumbles upon the name
of Saint Issa, a renowned preacher, ante-dating some 2,000 years. The
name becomes a wondrous attraction to Notovich, particularly as he
learns through many Buddhist priests, Issa's name in juxtaposition with