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LAND OF THE POET’S DREAM. BY W. L. HAWLEY. Away, far away in the dim regions of space, There’s a wonderful mythical clime, Where no storms ever blow, And no cares ever go, And eternity mingles with time; Oh ! 'tie a wonderful clime, this far-away land, Where the sunlight of joy ever beams, Where there never is gloom, And the flowers ever bloom — This is the land of the poet’s dreams. Away from the dull earth with its sorrow and care, Far away on the wings of the wind, Up through the realms of spacs Let us fly to that place Where the ecstaoy of joy we’ll find; Oh ! the roses which bloom in this far-away land Are sweeter than on earth ever seem, And the River of Time Flows with rythmical rhyme Through the land of the poet’s dream. Oh 1 blessed is ‘the mortal who can go, in his dreams, To a world so wonderful and fair, And forget ev’ry trace In this mythical place Of the earth, with its sorrow and care, And live on forever in this far-away land, Where the sunlight of joy ever beams; Where there never is gloom, And the flowers ever bloom, In the land of the poet’s dreams. “ITS OWN REWARD.” BY M. E. M. "Ask her, my dears, by all means, if you wish it, especially as she happens to be so close to ns. My only fear is that she will feel dull in this quiet place; you know how very limited our means of amusement are." “ Oh, mother darling; if we may only have her here, we will engage to find something to amuse her! Beside, she’ll amuse us, you know; she is so bright and charming and clever that she’s the life of every house she goes to. You will be as much in love with her as everv one else is." ‘‘We shall manage somehow, mother, as Ethel says. There will be the bazaar at Warren, and the Tewsons are going to get up some archery meetings, and we can go up the river one day, and ‘‘Castor and Pollux are coming to Dene next week, and so there will be plenty of opportuni ties for entertainment." “The ‘heavenly twins 1’ Oh, Bertie, you darl ing boy to tell us that 1 When did you hear the news ?” “I saw the Squire this morning, and he told me he expected them by the five o’clock train.” The whole of the family were out on the lawn, enjoying the cool evening air that had succeeded the broiling heat of a blazing July day. Mrs. Dacre was Bitting in her low wicker-chair, with her lap lull of some white fleecy knitting work, which she had quite forgotten during the past half-hour’s discussion. Ethel was sitting in the swing and Daisy was presiding at the lit tle round tea-table, while Bertie—the midship man brother—had possessed himself of the ham mock that hung between the two great cedar trees, and was lazily swinging to and fro in a state of supreme contentment. Indeed hie sis ters had supposed him to be half asleep until his sudden contribution to the conversation had assured them that he was listening intently to all that was going on. Mrs. Dacre was the widow of an Indian officer and a distant connection of Squire Compton of the Dene, and on her husband’s death, she bad been glad to take advantage of her kinsman’s kind proposition that she should make Brook side her home, paying a merely nominal rent for the pretty cottage and grounds. Bertie, her only son, was at home on leave, to the un bounded delight of his family, hie ship having jnst been paid off on her return from the China station. The two girls had been paying a round ot visits, in the course of which, they had met at the house of a mutual friend, a favorite schoolfellow whom they had not seen for four or five years, and the wisdom of inviting Miss Juliet Fitzgerald to Brookside, was the question that was now under discussion. “ 1 know the sort of girl she is,’’ said Bertie, in a superior tone, as he vacated his hammock fireparatory to taking a cup of tea to his mo tor ; “ she’s one of your regular society girls, who will want no end of attention, and will ex pect me to be dangling about after her all day. Oh, I know them well 1” ‘.‘ You conceited little fellow I” exclaimed Dai sy, laughing. “ Why, you're only a boy, and I can assure you Juliet won’t trouble herself about you.” “ A boy, indeed ! If you saw me in command of a boat's crew, Miss Daisy, it’s not much of a boy you’d think me.” “My dear Bert, I am not questioning your professional value, but only suggesting that a woman of three-and-twenty, as a rule, prefers a man rather older than herself to—to ” “Flirt with. Just so—just what I said 1” re torted Bertie, dogmatically. “ Well, she won’t get me to flirt with her; let her try it on with Castor and Pollux 1” “My dears, my dears,” broke in the mother’s mild voice of deprecation, “don’t talk such nonsense, or you will end by making me dislike Miss Fitzgerald before I have ever seen her.” “It’s all Bertie’s nonsense,’’ said Ethel, as she left her seat in the swing and sat down upon the grass at her mother’s side; “Juliet is really very nice, and I am sure you will think so When you see her, dear mother.” Ethel’s prophecy proved correct, for, when the girls brought home their visitor in tri umph, Mrs. Dacre was pleased with her at first sight; and even before luncheon was beginning to feel the subtle influence of the girl’s charm ing manner. Mrs. Fitzgerald was of about medium hight, with a perlect figure, a pure pink-and-white complexion, wavy golden-brown hair, dark lashed gray eyes, a bewitching little nose, and a short upper lip that was perpetually display ing the small white teeth below jit—altogether what her friends had called her—a very charm ing young woman. Luncheon over, Ethel and Daisy escorted their friend on a tour of inspection over the house and grounds; and her warm appreciation of the beauties of their homo and its surround ings was as gratifying to the two girls as she evidently meant it should be. “You never told me Brookside was such a delightful place,” she said gayly, as she linked her arm within Ethel’s. “You always spoke of it as merely a cottage; and now I find it is quite a large establishment!” “ Well, J suppose we get into the way of think ing it a smaller place than it is because we are so near to the Dene, and so often there, and the difference between the two houses is so very great.” “The Dene? Where is that?” “If you could look through that grove of beech-trees, Juliet, you would see the Dene. When the leaves are gone, we can see the house quite plainly. It is only a quarter of a mile off, you see—our garden is really a piece of the park; there is a foot-path from this gate which takes us to the house by a very short cut.” “And who lives there ?” “ Mr. Compton, a sort of second cousin of my father’s; but we always call him ‘ Uncle Frank? lie is very kind to all of us; it was he who got Bertie his nomination, to begin with, and—-” “Is hie wile nice?” “ He has no wife,” replied Daisy, laughing merrily. “Heis an old bachelor, and will nev er marry.” “Ob I” said Juliet, opening her eyes. “ Then who does the honors, and who will inherit his place after him ?” “A very, comprehensive quealion, my dear. He has a widowed sister, who has lived with him for many years, and who makes the nicest of chatelaines, and his property will go at his death to his nephew, Egerton Compton. May that time be far distant I” “Is the heir not a desirable person, then?” “ Egerton? He Is one of the nicest fellows in the world; but I can’t bear to think of losing dear, kind Uncle Frank.” “ You will see what he is like for yourself to morrow, I expect,” said Ethel, “lor he and his cousin, Hildebrand Wentworth, are sure to be over here the first thing alter breakfast. They always turn up to pay their devoirs to mother as soon as they arrive at the Dene.” “ Hildebrand ! What a romantic name ? Who is he ? You see I want to be quite au courant about everything.” “ Hildebrand—Brand, he is usually called— is the son of Mrs. Wentworth, the squire’s sister at the Dene. His father was killed in the In dian mutiny, when ho was quite a little fellow, and hie mother has live'd with the squire ever since.” “ How very sad for tiro young man ! Then he is a sort of poor relation, I suppose ?” Ethel thought she detected just the least shade of sarcasm in Juliet's pleasant voice. “My dear Juliet, ’ cried Daisy, with a comic gesture ot dismay and astonishment, “Brand poor ! Why, he is heir to a baronetcy—one of the very oldest! His uncle has only two daugh ters, so he will come in for everything. The estates are not so extensive as the Compton property, but they are very large, and, beside, there is the title.” “ You know all about the people at the Dene now,” said Ethel, as she led the way back to the house, “and you will be able to appreciate the •heavenly twins’ properly when you'make their acquaintance.” “ Why do you call them by that name ? Did your brother allude to them when he spoke at luncheon of Castor and Pollux ?” “ Yes. They are so called for two reasons— they happen to be just the same age, having beeh born on the same day, and they are so ex tremely attached to each other that no one has ever heard a cross word pass between them. It was Bertie who first gave them the name, and it has stuck to them ever since.” “ And these two excellent persons are still unappropriated ! Daisy, Ethel, you don’t know how to take advantage of the blessings show ered upon you, my dears. Do you often see these interesting young men?” “ They don’t live here,” replied Ethel, some what coldly, for Juliet’s tone jarred upon her —she scarcely knew why. “ That is to say, the Dene is Brand’s home, of course; Eger ton’s mother, who is also a widow, lives chiefly abroad, as she has very bad health. They are often down here; but they are generally to be found at their chambers in the Temple.” “ Oh, they are gentlemen of the long robe then ?’’ “ Yes, they have both been called to the bar. Egerton went in for it at first to please his un cle, who wanted nini to have some occupation, and thought th.it a knowledge ol law would be uscfti! when he ha<J to manage his own proper- ty. And, when Brand heard of it, of course he must go in for it too; so they live together in chambers, and Come down here just whenever they feel inclined.” , “ A very nice arrangement; but see—there s your mother beckoning to us, Daisy I”—and the girls hurried away to join Mrs, Dacre on the lawn. . , They were busy playing tennis in th? even ing, when a diversion was caused b,y tne adyoit of the squire and his two nephews. Daisy and Ethel, who were partners, would fain haw 3 finished their game, but Bertie threw down ni ß racket unceremoniously, and Miss Fitzgerald was by no means loth to follow his example. The two handsome young mon in efening-dress and ths courtly, genial old sqfuira formed a very attractive trio; and it SUGm'ed to Juliet far more desirable to join in the group under the great cedars than to continue a game in which she really felt little or no interest. The “ heavenly twins ” were indeed a very i handsome pair. Egerton Compton was tall, stalwart, lair-haired, and blue-eyed, a typical Englishman—blithe,outspoken, irank almost to a fault. Hildebrand Wentworth was equally tall, but somewhat slighter, with close-cut black hair, that would have curled had it been allowed to grow longer, and quiet brown eyes that were frequently lighted up with a wonder ful smile; he was thoughtful, calm, perhaps re served, but with a charm of manner no less pleasing than that of his cousin. No one could have been long in their company without feel ing that the bond of friendship between the young men was of more thau average strength, although, in true English fashion, they were very undemonstrative toward each other. Juliet did not fail to notice how often, while the squire was conversing gayly with herself and her hostess, his eyes rested upon his neph ews with undisguised love and pride; and she detected at once the tender inflection in his hearty tones when he happened to speak ot “my boys there,” or “ thosejtwo lads.” “ They are the joy and pride of his life,” she said to herself; and she was right. As Ethel and Daisy laughed and chatted with the two young men in their usual unconstrained and friendly way, they little imagined how sharply they were being watched by the laugh ing eyes of their guest. Not a word or joke or gesture escaped her; and, while the squire was giving her with much elaboration the history of the cetebrated Cuyp that had been lost lor a whole generation and at last discovered by him in a forgotten lumber-room, he little guessed how he was boring his fair auditor, who was chafing at her detention, and, while apparently taking the most lively interest in the squire’s story, was longing to join the young people, and eager to begin to open her battery of fasci nations upon his two nephews. Her well-simulated attention was not lost upon the squire, whose heart she completely won by her gentle, deferential manner, and when at last, to her extreme relief, Ethel came up and carried her off, the old gentleman re turned to Mrs. Dacre and began to praise her guest most enthusiastically. “A charming girl—quite charming,’pon my word, my dear cousin Mary 1 Who is she, and where did the girls pick her up ? So much sense and spirit, and such a fine information, too—a very charming girl, Indeed !” “ She is the daughter of a Major Fitzgerald, of the Indian army, and my girls were at school with her.” “ Does she make a long stay with you ?’’ “We asked her to stay lor a fortnight, but she will probably remain longer.” At that moment the sound of a piano and the voices of Hildebrand Wentworth and Miss Fitz gerald singing “ Parigi O cara 1” came from the open drawing-room window, and the squire, who was passionately fond ot music, speedily made his way to the house with Mrs. Daorc, and was soon seated in his favorite chair, lis tening to the songs of which he never tired. Brand’s fine baritone was well matched by the light, clear, brilliant soprano of Miss Fitz gerald, which was admirably adapted for the operatic music which she usually preferred to sing, and the duet was an unqualified success. When it was ended, the squire asked Miss Fitz gerald for a song; then the Dacre girls sang to gether, and Bertie followed suit with what he called a “regular forebitter,” an affecting love ditty, sung in proper blue-jacket style, with a chorus in every verse beginning, “ High diddle diddle do—my love's dead 1” The squire had heard the song a dozen times before, but still continued to laugh over the concluding verse until his face became purple, and when Juliet saw that the old gentleman liked it, she drew the corners of her mouth up instead of down, and thanked the lad gracious ly for his “ most amusing song—so characteris tic, you know;” but her inward comment was: “The idea of the whole roomful of people listen ing to that rubbish!” At last, however, the old cuckoo clock on the stairs proclaimed it to bo half-past ten, where upon the squire rose, and there was a general move; for the households at the Dene and the Cottage did not keep town hours. As Mr. Compton walked home between his two boys he was busily laying plans and mak ing arrangements for all sorts ot excursions and entertainments which should “show that charm ing girl what our county is like about here, and our neighbors, too, lads,” and the young men were only too willing to enter heart and soul into their uncle’s schemes and to assist him in every way to do honor to their cousins’ guest. When Juliet found herself alone in her pretty room alter the girls had said their last good night, she sat for quite halt an hour in the low rocking-chair by the open window with her hands clasped behind her lovely unbound hair, thinking. The substance of her thoughts was expressed in one sentence, as she rose at last and noiselessly shut the casement with a last look toward the trees that hid the Dene from view. “Yes, either of them I I don’t think it will be difficult; and there's not much to fear from those two mild little girls.” * * * * * > Three weeks passed, and still Juliet Fitzgerald remained at Brookside. Mrs. Dacre’s invita tion had been lor a iortnight, and, as the end of that period approached, her guest did certainly begin to speak ot leaving, but it was in the pres ence of the Squire and his nephews; and, when Mrs. Dacre saw the blank looks upon their faces and caught the halt-expressed exclamations of disappointment, she could do no less than ask Juliet to prolong her stay—and so Juliet stayed. The first impression of Miss Fitzgerald’s ; fascinations was fast passing from Mrs. Dacre s mind. Quiet and gentle as she was, charitable 1 in her judgments almost to a fault, she had a clear penetrating mind and a sound fund of 1 common sense that would not allow her opinions to be influenced by such mere meretricious con- 1 siderations as a winning manner or an attrac- ' tive exterior. A good and true woman herself, 1 she loved truth and goodness in others, and ' the arts and wiles of the average fashionable ! young lady were very repugnant to her. Mrs. Dacre, having lived so long at Brookside, 1 in close proximity to the Dene and on terms of ' friendly intimacy with its master and his ' nephews, had of course received from her 1 friends and neighbors many a bint, more or less 1 vailed, as to the possible chances ot promotion ' for her daughters in that quarter nay, some ' had even dared to suggest that she herself might one day reign at the Dene. There were 1 not many people, however, who, having once f hazarded such a suggestion, had cared to risk < it a second time after seeing the manner in < which it was received, Mrs. Dacres quiet dig- f nity being something to be felt and remembered 1 for many a day. Although, among all the young s men ot her acquaintance, Mrs. Dacre acknowl- I edged to herself that there were none to whom 1 she would so gladly give her girls as to the ’ Squire’s nephews, still that acknowledgement 1 was the extent of her match-making, and by no ] word or action had she ever encouraged her 1 daughters to regard their two friends in any ’ other light than in that ot the pleasant, unem barrassed, homely relationship that had always 1 existed between the two households. Beside, 1 she had had sufficient experience of the world to 1 know that men with the prospects of Egerton 1 Compton and Hildebrand Wentworth were like- ’ ly to look for wives who were something more than the almost portionless daughters of ‘ an Indian officer. Sweet and good, well born ' and accomplished as her girls were, she recog- j nised the fact that there were others just as 1 sweet and attractive, but nobly born and splen- 1 didly dowered, who would be far more likely to win the regard of the two nephews of the proud ’ old Squire. So, when Mrs. Dacre began to discover that ’ Miss Fitzgerald was playing a double game — quietly, skilfully, but surely and steadily—her whole nature rose in revolt against it. She had 1 not wished to think so at first, and she had re buked Bertie very decidedly when he had tried 1 to “ put her up to Miss Juliet’s little game.” 1 but, as the days passed on, first one thing and then another combined to prove that Bertie was ' not very far wrong alter all. They had all been playing tennis as usual ono : afternoon, when Mrs. Dacre, resting in her low ' chair in the cool, darkened drawing-room, was . surprised by Bartie’s coming io through the ' open window and flinging himself down upon ' the sola with a very sour expression on his : bright face. “Why, my boy, is your game ended? What brings you in now ?” “Our game’s done—that soon came to an end ; but hers isn’t—the baggage 1” “ Bertie, Bertie, my dear, I really can’t have you say such things! It’s most impolite—and of a guest, too I” “ Well, mother, I’m just sick of it, and that’s the truth! I wish to goodness you had let her go away at the end of the fortnight. Its simply sickening the way she’s going on with Brand and Egerton, playing off one against the other, angling for them both in the most barefaced manner, and they don’t see it, bless you! That’s the worst of it—they just follow her like lambs. They’ve all gone to see the silver pheas ants now; Brand happened to mention them, and she was all anxiety to see them and that new setter that Egerton brought home yester day. So they finished the game, and off they’ve gone to the Dene.” “ And the girls “ Ob, of course they had to go, too ! But they didn’t want to go—they know the squire can’t bear to be disturbed just at this time. Brand is bound to hunt his mother up, and she’s sure to tell ‘the squire they’re there—although uncle Frank is as great a fool about that girl as any one. There—l’m sick of her 1 I told you how it would be 1” “Well, Bert, what can we do? leant tell her to go, you know, and she shows no signs of de parting ; beside, if the twins like to be civil to her, that is no business of ours. It is very kind of them to take so much trouble about our guest." “ Oh, yes !” growled Bertie, with a vigorous punch at the sofa-pillow as he spoke. “ And here are our two dear little girls quite shoved NEW YORK paTCTT, OCTOBER 2, 1887. into the background by this creatuye —J* - mother, if they’re not both over he . ■ Why, in love with her, I’ll eat my And ears a ll t» . 'Stage and “My dear boy,” ...... smile, as she r r his ’mother, with a kiss his s’- .-es*, and. in passing, stooped to that is ' ...etfifrned forehead, “I don’t think we . -evo, find, a’a for your sisters, you know - Sever like to bring tbeir names into any such discussion as this. We don’t label our JRirls ‘For sale,’do we? We must put up with Miss Fitzgerald, and hope she will soon take her leave of us.” Bertie, however, was not to be so easily paci fied. He himself had greatly admired Juliet at first, and had been prepared to devote himself heartily to her service; but, as soon as the “heav enly twins” appeared on the scene,he found him self ignored so sweetly, or tolerated so smilingly, that his amour propre rose up very quickly in re bellion, and he occasionally found it as much as he could do to he civil to his mother’s guest. He had counted, too, upon a fair share of the society of the “ twins ” during the term of his leave, and he was not prepared to assent to their time and attention being so absorbed by Miss Fitzgerald. Altogether, Mr. Bertie Dacre felt very cross and very ill-used ; and on this particular after noon, as soon as his sisters and their friend re turned from the Dene, be pleaded au engage ment, and went off in a huff to spend the even ing at the rectory. That night Juliet once again sat musing in the rocking-chair by the window, with a smile upon her pretty lips. “It only remains for me to make up my mind,” she said to herself, meditatively. “Shall it be Brand and his baronetcy, or Egerton and the Dene? I am sure Brand would have spoken this afternoon, if that little marplot, Daisy, hadn’t come sidling up when she did. Well, to-morrow we shall see what we shall see." And with this edifying reflection, Miss Fitz gerald went comlortably to sleep. At the same hour, Brand Wentworth and Egerton Compton, each in his particular room, sat writing a letter of the same purport—a short note, that meant lar more than was expressed in the few written lines. And, when each lay down to sleep, it was with a feeling at his heart of strangely blended sorrow and contentment; but there was more of contentment than of sor row. “ Here’s a go,” cried Bertie, rushing into the dining-room just before lucheon the next day. “ Did you know they were going ?” The question was put openly to every one present, but it was Jufiet who answered : “ They I Who—who are gone ?” “Castor and Pollux—gone up to town—sud den business—letters sent on from their cham bers, it seems.” Well trained as she was, Miss Fitzgerald could not entirely suppress the feelings of as tonishment and disappointment that Bertie’s announcement had raised in her breast. “Gone—both ol them ?” she exclaimed. “Oh, nonsense—they are coming back, of course.” “They often go away in a hurry,” said Daisy, tranquilly, as she began to carve a cold fowl before her ; “ but they are sure to be back in a few days—in time for the Temples’s garden party on Thursday. Juliet, will you take this wing ?’’ Just at that moment, however, Juliet felt too completely disconcerted to care whether she was eating fowl or bread; but instinct came to her aid. “ Thank you, yes. A small piece, Daisy—l am not hungry ’’—which was true. “ Who told you, Bertie?” asked Mrs. Dacre. “ The squire, mother ; I met him down in the village. It seems that Egerton turned out very early this morning and went off by tbe quarter to eleven train to town; his mother had sent rather an earnest message to him. She is in Paris, and he is off there at once. He left a note for the sqnire and one for Brand ; but no one saw him before he went.” “ Oh, only gone to Paris. Then he may eas ily be back in time to go to the Temples's gar den party,” said Juliet, feeling reassured at the news. “ Don’t you believe it, Mies Fitzgerald,” an swered Bertie. “Ten to one, when he gets with his mother, she’ll be wanting him to take her to Norway, or Switzerland, or somewhere. I don't suppose I shall see him again before my leave’s up.” “ Well, but what about Brand ?” asked Ethel. “Oh, Brand’s gone over to the Hunters’. Some thing about that wretched old chancery suit of theirs, which he had to see them about. You know he has the business in hand for them; and some fresh papers or witnesses have turned up, and be must needs go and overhaul the thing at once. He took some luggage with him, and told his mother he might be away some days." “ But did neither of them leave any message for anybody?” asked Mrs. Dacre, not a little mystified at this unexpected turn that affairs had taken. “ Yes, of course they did—both of them—just like me to forget it. The sqtlire told me to say that they each begged to apologize to you, mother, and you, young ladies ” —with a com prehensive bow—“for going off so suddenly, without being able to say good-by; but they hoped you’d pardon them, as it was quite un avoidable, etc.,” Bertie rattled on. “ Isn’t tbeir uncle very much put out at their running off in such an extraordinary fashion ?” asked Juliet, with a ring of asperity in her voice. “ Oh, dear, no ; he’s used to it. He thorough ly trusts them, and knows well that they always have some good reason of their own for any thing of the sort. He can’t bear to be roused up out of his morning sleep for anything—and that they know. He always sleeps badly until three or four o’clock, and then he can rest until seven or eight; and woe betide any one who disturbs him.” The explanation was quite satisfactory to every one present except Juliet, who, while she was compelled to appear outwardly indifferent, was suffering a keener disappointment than she had felt for many a long day. What had be come of those pleasant castles in the air, which only tbe night before had seemed so real and tangible ? Where were those subtle bonds that she had flattered herself she had cast about both young men—bonds to which they had seemed only too willing to submit ? Whnt of the choice she had found so difficult to make— Hildebrand Wentworth and his baronetcy or Egerton Compton and his splendid rent-roll? They had both gone without a word, a sign, or a message; and some unaccountable presenti ment whispered that for her they would never return. The day of the Temples's garden party arrived and passed, but the “ heavenly twins ” came not. Miss Fitzgerald lingered on for a few days, hoping against hope; and then, disappointed and disgustqd, barely concealing her weariness of the unenlivened society of the Dacres, she announced one evening that she must return home the next day, as her father could not spare her any longer. Mrs. Dacre did not press her to remain, as she had done on a former occasion; and the next afternoon wit nessed her departure, to the delight—openly expressed by Bertie, inwardly acknowledged by the others—of the whole household, Ethel and Daisy felt very uncomfortable about the matter. The gentle mother had not said a word to either of them which could be construed into regret that their visitor had ever come, or that her daughters’ friend had proved so unsatisfactory. The two girls, however, knew their mother too well not to be sure that she had been anything but pleased with their guest, whose habits, ways, ideas, were all after the first novelty of her acquaintance had worn off—so different from those of the quiet, homely household of Brookside. The explana tion that Daisy was beginning to offer—that Ju liet used to be so nice when they knew her— was gently interrupted by her mother : “Never mind now, dear child; she is gone ! I know that you and Ethel made a not uncom mon mistake in allowing yourself to be fascin ated by your old friend. Poor girl, she has no mother, and that is a sufficient excuse for many of her faults.” So the Dacre household returned to its usual quiet ways. Bertie’s leave came to an end all too soon, and his mother and sisters had once more to part—with smiling faces, but sore hearts—from the bright lad who was tbe life of the house ; and the usual round ot home duties —the working and visiting, the reading aud music of the sisters, the kindly parish work of their mother—went on in the old fashion, en livened by the constant friendly intercourse with uncle Frank at the Dene. Bertie had been quite sound in his conclu sions that Egerton’s mother would keep him with her after he arrived in Paris. He had found her health to be less satisfactory than usual; and, as she had been ordered to one of the German bathe, he had taken her there, and, to her great joy, remained there with her. As for Brand, ho had speedily brought his business at the Hunters to a conclusion, and afterward he had gone for a long yachting cruise to the Hebrides with General Hunter and his two sons. So September went by, and October was well advanced, and still neither of the Squire’s nephews had returned to the Dene. r * * * * * It was a cold, wet night in the beginning of November; the trees in the Temple Gardens were almost bare, but there were still a few leaves left for the keen wind to whirl against the closely-curtained windows of the joint chambers of the “ heavenly twins ’’ —to which, at last, those two wanderers had found their way. Egerton Compton, after installing his mo ther with due care in her hotel at Mentone, had returned to town, first running down to the Squire for a few days. The Dacres, he had found, were all away on a visit to an uncle who had just returned from India; so he saw none of them, and only heard such unimportant items of news as his aunt was able to impart. Had she heard anything ot -of—Miss Fitzgerald? he had asked, with just the slightest signs of hesi tation. No, nothing, was the reply; she had written once after her return home, his aunt be lieved, but that was all they had heard of her at Brookside. Egerton had returned to the Temple, to find that his cousin had just come back from his cruise, brown, hearty, full of life and energy, and ready for any amount of any kind of work that might turn up. Work and dinner being over, the two young men sat by their great glowing fire, with their pipes in tbeir mouths and newspapers in their hands. Occasionally one would say curtly: “ What does Bismarck want to be up to now ?” or, “What a lot ol bosh these starring politi cians do talk in the provinces 1” But otherwise the silence was broken only by the crackling of the fire or the placid breathing of Brand’s bull-terrier, as he lay asleep on the hearthrug. Suddenly Brand threw down his Standard, and Egerton looked tip astonished. “ Well, I’ll be shot I” “ What is it, old man ?” “ Who do you think was married yesterday at Southeea—St. Jude’s, of course?” “ I don’t know,” said Egerton, although he felt in bis heart that he did know. “Juliet Fitzgerald was married to that old buffer Sir Arthur Lindsay—his third wife 1” “ Can’t be j” “It is, though 1 Seo for yourself,” and Brand handed the paper to hie cousin, with his finger on the paragraph that contained the startling intelligence: “Yesterday morning, at St. Jude’s Church, Southsea, General Sir Arthur Lindsay, K. 0. 8., was married to Miss Juliet Selina Fitzgerald, second daughter of Major Fitzgerald, of the —th Regiment, Bengal, N. I. The officiating clergymen were the Dean ol Stokeover, brother of the bridegroom, and the Reverend James Fit gerald, rector of Much Dorley, cousin of the bride.” For some moments neither of tbe young men spoke, then Egerton said, drawing a long breath: “So you were not the favored ono after all, Brand I” “ 1 the favored one-? My dear boy, I made quite sure it was you; that was why ” He stopped suddenly, hut Egerton inter posed : “ That was why you bolted, Brand !’’ “ Well, you see, I thought, as I hadn’t any chance, I’d leave tbe coast clear for you, and not ” He paused, for a curious expression bad come over hie cousin’s face; then he added: “ You don’t mean to say, eld man, that you took yourself off because ” “My dear Brand, I felt I was getting hit in that quarter ; but I thought yon were, too, and so—well, I wouldn’t cut you out, and I just came away.” “ And we both made up our minds that same night, and each wrote that odd note to the other 1 I couldn’t imagine what you meant, old fellow, by saying you wished me every suc cess !” They sat looking steadfastly at each other for what might have been a minute of two, but to them it seemed that a whole life-time of deep and tender love was compressed into those few moments. As Brand found his eyes grow ing dim, he sprang up and clasped his cousin’s hand. “1 think we do love each other a bit, old boy 1” he said, in a shaky voice. “ She was growing very dear to me,” replied Egerton, huskily, as he laid his other hand on Brand’s shoulder;“ but I thought, if it was a question of your happiness or mine, that after all I loved you best. ’ “Nothing will ever come between us now,” said Brand. “I don’t think there’s much fear of that, Brand. It the two men had not been Englishmen, they would have fallen upon each other’s neck and have kissed each other in the warmth of their affection. Being English, however, and therefore not accustomed to any such display of feeling, they only gripped each other’s hands more tightly ; and then, sitting down again, Brand made up the fire, while Egerton filled his pipe, which had gone out during their con versation. “That old buffer !” ejaculated Brand, pres ently. “Why, he muet be sixty-six if he’a a day. However, she’s ‘my lady’ now, so that’s some compensation. Odd creatures, women 1” “ Well, don’t forget that we never gave her a better chance between us, bolting off as wo did, Brand. Perhaps “Oh, bah—don’t talk to me, Egerton ! A girl of that age, who can sell herself to a man old enough to be her grandfather, can’t be the girl I took her to be—that’s all.” Brand threw his newspaper on to the table, and put the little black kettle upon the hob, ready for the modest glass of grog that was to accompany the good-night pipes. * * * * * * * The Squire was in town for the Derby week, and he put up at Morley’s, so that he might not be very far irom his boys at the Temple—in deed, he spent a considerable part of his time at their chambers, never making his appear ance without .bringing something that he thought was a necessity, either for use or orna ment. “They’ll all coms in handy when you get married, lads,” he would say, in reply to their expostulations; and at last they ceased to do anything but thank the kind old man at every new proof of his thoughtful care for his •‘ boys.” They were all going to lunch at Lowndes square, one day, and the two young men, hav ing called at the Carlton to pick up their uncle, had hardly got down to the steps when the old gentleman turned to Egerton, and said : “ I’ve been hearing some terrible news just now. and about some one we all know very well too 1” “ I’m afraid it has upset you, sir,” was Eger ton’s answer, for his uncle looked sorely troubled. “It has upset ma more than 1 can tell. You remember that pretty girl Juliet Fitzgerald, who was staying at Brookside last year—ay, and whom you both treated so badly, you rascals, bolting off without even saying you were go ing 1” Oh, yes; they both remembered her very well —with a glance at each other behind the squire’s back. “She married some old fogy of an Indian general—third wife—lots of money, and all that; dare say you heard all about it—eh ? Well, first of all she runs her husband into no end of debt with her extravagance here, there and every where. Nothing was good enough for her; if he’d been made ot money it would have been enough to ruin him almost.” The squire paused to take a fresh breath, and struck the pavement fiercely with his gold-headed stick. “ Well, now she's left him—taken up with some actor fellow-singer—l don’t know—they’re all the same—and they’ve gone off together to Paris, I think.” Neither of the young men spoke, but, as they were waiting to cross Picadilly, their silence was not noticed. One thought was in the minds of both—“ What an escape I” The squire contin ued his discourse when they were once more in motion. “ I was quite taken with her myself, boys, I will own - so much so that I remember 1 wished above everything that one of you would make her my niece; but apparently that never struck you. I was sorry then, but lam thankful now that my wish came to nothing.” Just at that moment the squire stopped to ex change greetings with a olub acquaintance, and his nephews walked on a few paces. “We lost nothing, Brand, it seems,” said Egerton. “No; but gained infinitely in other ways. You see, my dear fellow, in this as in some other thinps, virtue has its own reward 1” “Dear little Daisy Dacre is worth a hundred Lady Lindsays,” said Egerton warmly. “ And Ethel is worth a hundred added to thsit,” declared Brand. “ Don’t you think we were a couple of idiots ?” inquired the other cousin. “ Ah, well, that is putting it rather strongly, Egerton ! But I’ve been thinking a good deal lately about the Dacres.” ‘‘ So have 1.” And just then the squire came up, so no more was said. * ♦ * » » Mrs. Dacre is to have her wish fulfilled, after all. The “ heavenly twins ” came again to the Dene last Summer, and, when once more the old happy friendship with the Dacre household was resumed, it was not long before Brand and Egerton learned to forget all about recent try ing events, ank to find in the two sweet sisters more than a compensation for that mutual self sacrifice which was in their eyes “Its Own Re ward.” PARADISE LIFE IN A CRIMINAL COLONY. An interesting account of the present status of notorious French criminals in New Caledonia has been furnished by an official who has just returned from that penal colony. The most re spectable, as well as the senior, of all the convicts is Berezovskl, the Pole, who fired at the Em peror Alexander 11. during the Paris Exhibition of 1367. He is now in the Island of Nou, where ho occupies a little room apart irom all tbe bad characters, and Las oven a small garden for him salf. He roams about the island, which is one fourih of the size of Pans, at bis own sweet will, and bis conduct has been irreproachable. He receives a large quantity ot newspapers, books, and pamphlets from different countries by every mail. Berezovaki is now old and feeble to an ex treme degree, Of a different class are Gilles and Abadie, the murderers of the Paris grocer Lecercle. These worthies are employed as street scavengers at Noumea, and their occupation is looked upon by their companions in penal servitude as a good one, for it is eiey, and also enables them to pick up bits of tobacco and various odds and ends, including occasional alms. Pel, who poisoned his servant at Montruiel, and then burned her remains in a stove, died in the be ginning ot the year, as well as Moyaux, who murdered his own daughter. Givchard, who murdered a bank messenger at M arseilles, is doing well as a store clerk, and hopes one day, if not to get to Australia, at least to settle down in New Caledonia as a colonist. One ot the most comfortable thriving of the convicts is Fenayrou, the Parisian chemist, who led the lover of his wife into an ambush at Chatou, and then murdered him in a most atro cious manner. This criminal has passed through the various categories until he has arrived among the first-class convicts. He has a share in a farm which he and his wife superintend, and he has under his orders some of the lower class of criminals. His life sentence has been commuted to one of twenty years. The doctor who was condemned last year for having sent poisoned game to a colleague, is giving satisfac tion in the colony, and hopes to be able to obtain the privileges accorded to Fenayrou. On the whole, the educated criminals, even those who are undergoing sentences for serious crimes, are highly spoken of by the Governor ot Noumea, and the most unmitigated rascals are the Paris gamins and the brutish peasants or laborers, most of whom are murderers. Every year a certain number of these has to be shot down by the warders. The official who uses his revolver against the convicts is tried as a for mality by a court-martial and acquitted. The number of convicts is 10,0u0or more, and there are in addition 240 female convicts sent out to Noumea of their own accord, from the Maison Centrale, of Paris, for the purpose of marrying first-class misdemeanants. These wo men are supervised by nuns. There are on the island aiv hnnd ’ -—- number 0 ' first-class convicts amounts to 1,600, and some of them, like Fenayrou, have been allowed to send for their wives. The State furnishes them with agricultural implements, food and even a few head of cattle when they are per mitted to begin farming, and they generally con trive to do well. Another class, apart from all the others, is composed of skilled tradesmen and mechanics, musicians, and even actors. These have a sav ings bank of their own, a kind of club, and are almost too prosperous lor convicts. The bands men are said to be as good as many regimental performers, and they play programmes of select music before the governor’s mansion, twice a week, ’beside giving occasional con certs. From this it will be seen that the life of many convicts is far better than that which is led by thousands in tbe slums of Paris, and it is no wonder that such being the case, numerous transgressors against the law of the land, including those who commit the most ter rible crimes, should view with longing and de light their dispatch to New Caledonia by the cle ment mandate of the President of the Republic. HOMOR OF THE T)UEL BY THE DETROIT FREE PR3I3 FIESD. NOT ACCORDIN’ TO SCRIPTUR’. A man in whom his townsmen hafl always reposed the greatest confidence, suddenly failed in business, thereby involving many ol his friends. A knot of men were gathered at the post office, smoking and talking the matter over. “Wall,” said a wit, “John couldn’t expect to prosper, ’cause he didn’t go accordin’ to Scrip tur’. That tells ye to take in strangers, and John he’s been and took in his friends.” ONE FOR HER. He had on a winter overcoat and thick gloves, and as he entered the car he stood for a mo ment and gazed at a demure little woman who was dressed for a July day, and seemed to be plenty warm. " Humph !" he exclaimed, as he sat down. “Some folks couldn’t freeze to death If they tried to.” “ No, sir; that’s so, sir,” she lispingly an swered, “ and it’s because you are just too sweet lor anything.” TOO POOR FOR CIDER. A citizen of Detroit, who was at Farmington, Novi, Wixom and other small villages, the other day, saw a good many wagon loads of very poor apples passing toward the depots, and he finally stopped one driver, looked his load over, and observed : “ Going to make cider of these ?” “ No, sir ; they arn’t fit.” “Then perhaps they are to feed stock with?” “No, sir ; they are going to Detroit to an ap ple jell factory.” STILL THE STYLE. An enterprising Yankee, who owned a large chair manufactory, had occasion one day to show a friend from over the water through his establishment. The Englishman, amazed at the quantity of chairs that he saw in their various stages of completion, exclaimed : “ ’Ow can you hever hexpect to sell so many chairs ?” “Wall,” said the Yankee, “I guess eettin’ down ain’t gone out of fashion yet.” SHE WAS IN THERE. “Bub,” said a patrolman to a boy on Brush street, “ I am looking for a crazy woman. Have you ” “ Yes, sir ; I know where she is. She’s right in that honse 1” “Ah I She went in there, eh ?” “ Yes, sir ; and she’s my mother.’ “ What ?'” “She asked pa for four dollars this morning, and ho said she must be crazy. Please don’t call the wagon aud get all the neighbors out, but take her out the back way 1” VERY MILD. “ Uncle Jack,” said a City Market butcher to an old colored whitewasher, the other day, “you know the weather pretty well, don’t you ?” “ Yes, sab.” “ What kind of a Winter do you think we’ll have ?” “ Well, Bah, dat same queshun war’ axed me yesterday, accompanied by a gift ol ton cents, an’ I predicted a werry mild Winter. H owsum eber, as you haven’t ” “ Here’s a dime, Uncle Jack.” “Ah f thanks. It’s gwine to be mild, sab— werry mild. Yes, sah—we’ll hey Summer all Winter, eah.” NEVER HEARD OF IT BEFORE. A drummer for some Eastern house, who was strolling around the foot of Third street the other day, thought to guy a boot-black a little, and began: “ le this place called Detroit?” “Yes, eir.” " What State is it in ?” “ Michigan.” “Singular that I never heard of it before. What’s the population ?” “ Two hundred and fifty thousand.” “Whew! And is this the Missouri river here ?” “No, sir; it’s the Detroit.” “Well, well! Let’s see. Detroit, State of Michigan. I must write that down and try and remember it, for I may meet some one who has heard of the place. How do you spell De troit?” “ See here,” whispered the boot-black, as he beckoned the stranger into an angle of the building. “What is it?” “ Don’t go to too much trouble. Il you’ve escaped from Kalamazoo, get right across to Canada. If you aren’t loony, then keep your eyes open for the Fool-Killer I This town is his headquarters.” KILLED AT ATLANTA. They were tslking about the cheek of tramps the other day, when a Woodward avenue mer chant said : “ Two or three weeks ago a tramp came in and struck me for a quarter. Two days later he came again. In two weeks he called on me five times, getting something each time. I final ly turned to and gave him an awful blasting. He listened to me quietly and respectfully, and finally said : “ ‘ My excuse is that I served my country.’ “ ‘ You a soldier—bah I’ “ ‘ But I was, eir. They have got me in the painting of the Battle of Atlanta.’ “ ‘ I don’t believe it’ “‘lf you take me in there, I’ll point myself out to yon. If yon don’t see me represented there, you may kick me.’ “Well,” said the merchant, “I took him at his word and went over to the panorama with him. He didn’t hesitate at all, but walking to the front and pointing to the railroad gap, he said: “ ‘ There I am, sir.’ “ ‘ Where ?’ “ ‘ Just to the right of that dead horse.’ " ‘ But that man is dead.’ “ ‘ Yes, sir. That is the battle I was killed in!’” A WONDERFUL BABY. When Three Days Old It Shouted “Pull off the Quilt.” (From the Arkansas Gazette.) There Is a bigger attraction here in Little Rock just now than Showman Barnum ever possessed. This wonderful phenomenon is at present re siding on Twelfth street, and is in the shape ol a colored baby, not yet seven weeks old. It talks, not like a grown person, it is true, but at the same time as well? as any child of three years ol age. Tbe parents ol the child are a Mr. and Mrs. Scott, who reside on Tweltth street between Centre and Spring streets, and are hard-work ing, respectable people. Mrs. Scott is the mother of twelve children, who are not differ ent from others ot the same age, and have so lar shown no remarkable peculiarities. When three days old this child startled his mother and several children who were present by re questing those present to “ pull off the quilt." This caused a sensation lor the time being, and on the next day the baby called out: “ Say, whore is mamma ?” When visitors were told of this unheard-ot proceeding on the part of a child not a week old, a watch was kept by several young ladies and gentlemen, who wanted to hear the child talk. The result is that they were finally con vinced that the reports circulated were true. From the time the baby first opened its mouth until the present there has not been a day that it did not talk more or less. It says such words as “pa,”“ ma,” “come here” and “let me alone.” The sentences are not full and well rounded and the words are broken, but all the time intelligible. A commission of several gen tlemen will go up and examine the child to dis cover, if possible, what there is “ in the wind ” that causes this child to talk like a half-grown person. The parents are very much annoyed by the hundreds of visitors who throng the house. WHERE ViOLINSARE - MADE. THE SOLE INDUSTRY OF A SAXON TOWN’S THRIFTY PEOPLE. Those who fiddle and those who love to listen to the fiddlers will read with interest the follow ing from the Pittsburg Dispatch: It is truly astonishing how many violins there are imported into this country annually, especi ally if we consider that there is really but one place in the world where violins are made ex tensively. That place is Markneukirchen, with its surrounding villages, Klingenthal, Fleissen, Rohrback and Graslitz, in Saxony, Germany. There are altogether about 15,000 people living there who do nothing else day after day but make violins, and to go there and watch them is one of the most interesting sights I ever en joyed in my life. The inhabitants, from the little urchin to the old grayhead man, the small girl and the old grandmother, all are engaged in making parts ot the fiddle. A good one consists of sixty-two different pieces. They are cut, planed, smoothed and measured, everything being accurate and pre cise with tbe model. The older men make the finger-board from ebony and the string-holder or the screws. The small boys have to make themselves useful by looking after the glue-pot on the tire and bringing their elders things as they want them. A man with strong, steady bauds and a clear eye puts the different pieces I toycihor, and this is ths most difficult task of : all. Most violins are made of maple-wood that grows in that part of the country or over the frontier in Bohemia. The women generally occupy as j polishers. This requires long prk'ctico, and a i family that has a daughter who is a good I polisher is considered fortunate. Even a young man, when be goes a Wooing, inquires whether the young girl is a good polisher, and i! she is it certainly will increase his affection for her at least two-lold. The polishing takes a good deal of time, some of the best violins being twenty and even thirty times polished. Every family has its peculiar style of polishing, and they never vary Irom that. There is one that makes nothing but a deep wine color, another a citron color, yet another orange color, and so on. How a Military Dispatch was Once Carried.— ln 1874 or 1875, a detail of American soldiers, to be absent for several days, was sent from Fort Sill, Indian Territory, down the Cache creek, to cut timber for building purposes. The party was encountered the next day by Kiowa and Comanche Indians, and completely sur rounded. Alter several charges the Indians gave tho soldiers more rest, but kept them so close that nobody dared to steal through to bring help from Fort Sill, and so matters stood for several days. As was usually the case in euch expeditions, there were several dogs with the party, mostly of the “yaller cur’’ kind. One of the soldiers had the idea of fastening a tin can, with a message by the officer in charge, telling how matters stood, to the tail of one o the dogs and chasing him home. This was done in the evening, and, as the dog neared the Indians, they fired at him, but, seeing the tin can pounding the air, they thought it great fun, and yelledmnd chased the poor dog still faster. The animal arrived at the fort nearly dead, and went to the company, quarters. A kind-hearted soldier relieved the poor brute. In so doing, he noticed the slip of paper in the tin can, anc raised the alarm. In a short time the command ing officer was notified, and several companies on horseback went to the rescue of the beleag uered party. The Indians saw them coming, and fled. A Burmese Sam Slick. —An amusing scene took place at the corner of Fraser and China streets, Rangoon, one morning, between two sweetmeat-sellers. The men were endeav oring to undersell each other, and at each re duction extolled most lustily the cheapness and quality of their respective articles. At last, when the price had come down to the lowest point, one apparently gave up in despair, for,, picking up his tray, he beat a precipitate re treat. His rival’s triumph however was but short-lived, for the seemingly vanquished party soon put in a reappearance, and the contest was renewed; but no sooner had the former con queror reduced his price as low as he dared than a posse of native passers-by stopped and commenced buying hia sweets, continuing to do so until the whole stock was exhausted. The vender was evidently pleased at disposing of his goods so readily; but, to his intense aston ishment and disgust, he saw the buyers go quietly over and deposit the whole of their pur chases on the opposition stand, the owner of which had hit upon a happy ruse by which|to rid himself! of his adversary and increase his stock at one stroke; for, when he had taken his seem ing departure, he had only gone to collect a tew friends, to whom he had given the means to buy out the other. The man then began to sell off both stocks at their original rates. Thought In a Workman. —A striking instance of ths extent to which saving machin ery is carried nowadays, says the Industrial Journal, is shown in the tincan industry. Everybody knows that tin cans are manuiao tured by machinery. One of the machines used in the process solders the longitudinal seams of the cans at the rate of fifty a minute, the cans rushing along in a continuous stream. Now, of course, a drop or two of solder is lelt on the can. The drop on the outside, can be easily cleared away, but it is not easy to secure the drop on the inside. It wouldn’t do, of course, to retard the speed of the work—better waste the drop; it is only a trifle, anyhow, and to 999 men in 1,000 would not seem worth a minute’s attention. The thousandth man worked for a firm using one of these machines,and these about devising an ingenious arrangement for wiping the inside of the can, thereby saving that drop of solder and leaving none to come in contact with the contents of the can. He was encouraged by his employers to patent his invention, did so', and has already received several thousand dol lars in royalties for its use. As the machine solders twenty thousand cans a day, the solder saved by this invention amounted to about sls a day. It pays to think as you work. Calcined Oyster-shells as a Remedy for Cancer In a recent number of the Lancet, Dr. Peter Hood refers to a communication of his, published in the same journal nearly twenty years ago, on tho value of calcium carbonate in the form of calcined oyster-shells,as a means of arresting the growth of cancerous tumors. In a case which he then reported—that of a ladv nearly eighty years old—the growth sloughed away and left a healthy surface alter a course of the remedy, as much as would lie on a shil ling being taken once or twice a day in a little warm water or tea. He now reports another case of ecirrhus of the breast, in the wife of a physician, in which the treatment was followed by an arrest of the growth and a cessation of the pain, the improvement having now lasted for years, and no recrudescence having thus far occurred. He urges that the remedy can do no harm, and the the prima facie evidence in its favor is stronger than that on which, at Dr. Clay s recommendation, the profession lately displayed an extraordinary eagerness to try, Chian turpentine. He would restrict the trials to well-marked cases of scirrhus, and Insists that no benefit should be looked for in less than three months. One Good Trait. —lt is not generally known that the Prince of Wales regarded with deep affection his old nurse, Mrs. Mary Scar rett, whose death, at a very advanced age, was recorded two or three weeks back. He made a habit of going to see her at least twice a week, and would sit by her bedside for quite a long time. On the last occasion, as he was about to leave, she called him back and begged him to stay a little while longer, calling him by tho name of Bertie, as she used to do when he was a little boy. The prince at once resumed his seat, and sat there lor some hours, until the old lady had fallen asleep. He then kissed her forehead, and, with tears in his eyes, lelt the room, never to see his valued friend again in life. A bunch of white flowers placed on Mrs. Scarrett’s coffin was gathered by the Prince from the conservatory at Marlborough House, and tied with a ribbon by himself. The First Coffee-House. —The first coffee-house really deserving to bear that name, which was opened in London for the sale of the decoction from the Arabian berry, was estab lished in 1652 by Pasqua, in Newman’s Court, Cornhill. Pasqua, a Greek, was servant to Mr. Edwards, a Turkey merchant, and the taste for the new beverage increased so rapidly that cof fee-houses became common in London at the date of the restoration of Charles 11. It is re corded in “Evelyn’s Diary,” on May the ICth, 1637, that “there came in that year to the Col lege of Balliol, in Oxford, one Nathaniel Cono pios, out of Greece, who was the first that over I saw drink coffee, which custom came not into England until about thirty years later.” Low Ocean Rates fob Freights. —ln view of the low rates for freight room in the ocean steamships for several years past, there has been speculation in many minds as to how some of the companies continued in business. The freight rates are admittedly unprofitable, dividends have been passed with regularity, and yet outwardly the affairs of the different lines are all right. An authority, in speaking of this subject, said: “ The big companies haven’t depended on freight for some time. They have and do now, rely upon the big im migration to this country to meet expenses. In a word, the big immigration has kept some of the companies from shutting up shop.” Forgotten in the Will. —An elderly gentleman, who knew something of law, lived in an Irish village where no solicitor bad ever penetrated, and was in the habit of arranging the disputes of his neigbpors, and making their wills. At an early hour one morning, he was aroused from his slumbers by a loud knocking at his gate, and putting his head out of the win dow, he asked who was there. “ It’s me, yer honor—Paddy Flaherty. I could not get a wink of sleep thinking of the will 1 have made.” “ What’s the matter with thejwill?” asked the amateur lawyer. “ Matter, indeed !” replied Pat; “ shure I’ve not left myself a three-legged stool to sit down upon.” The Colob of Eyes. —Extensive re searches into the heredity of eye colors have led M. Alphonse de Candolle to consider it cer tain that women have a larger proportion of brown eyes than men; that where both parents have eyes of the same color the chances are eighty-eight to twelve that the children who reach the age of ten years (when the colors of the eyes are fixed) will have eyes of the same color; and that where the parents have eyes of different colors the chances are fifty-five to forty five in favor of brown as against blue or gray for the children. He claims that brown eyes are more favorable to health and longevity than the blonde types. A Strange Legal Muddle.— The Probate Judge of Smith county, Kansas, is in sane. He ought to be removed and another appointed; but the Governor finds himself in a dilemma. He cannot appoint a probate judge until a vacancy occurs, and no vacancy can be declared until the incumbent is adjudged in sane. In order to effect this, the lunatic must be tried by a jury and declared by the probate judge to be insane. No other person in the county has the power. This is the first case ot the kind that has ever arisen in Kansas. Blaming the Barbers. —Some physi ologists are more inclined to blame barbers than hats for the increasing evil of premature baldness. Frequent shampooing and washing greatlv injure the growth of hair by removing its o ly matter, though a common notion is that daily scalp-rubbing is essential to cleanliness. The avenues leading to an early grave have o.ten been stopped by Dr. Bull’s : Cough Svrtip. Twenty-five cents. The Quiet Girl.— -The quiet girl never wears high colors on the street; you do not see her haunting in brilliant piaids, when they happen to be the style; when high hats are “in” she does not pile hers so high that it sweeps the cobwebs from the sky; she does not wear acf exaggerated bang when the bang is In vogue, nor the biggest bustle in town, nor the longest train to her tea gown, nor the greatest number ot bangles when bangles reign. But because eho does not chatter and giggle, and make her self conspicuous iu horse ears or at matinees, docs not announce her convictions on all occa sions and all subjects, and profess her admira tion at every hand’s turn, if must not be sup posed that she has no ideas or convictions or enthusiasms; that she moves along like a stag in the heavens, whicli obeys the laws of gravi tation without selecting its course or objecting to its orbit. She is quiet because she has no power to make herself hoard, to change her con ditions, or because she is maturing that power. In the meantime, it is tho quiet girl who mar ries earliest, who makes the best match, who fills the niches which her more brilliant sisters ; leave vacant, who manages the servants, runs > the sewing machine, remembers the birthdays, listens to tho reminiscences ol the old, and often keeps the wolf from the door. Women’s Dress. —Modern fashions in i women’s dross throughout the civilized world i are for the most part uncouth and devoid of grace. If we seek tho picturesque and grace* ful in dress, we must actually go among bar* barians to find them. In Spain, Greece and Italy, it is true, w - may still find a picturesque national eosium. . nt everywhere it is disan* pearing before thu ino ations of “modern style. We must go back to the ancient Greek race for grace in apparel, as well as in per* i sonal bearing. No Greek woman ever dreamed of wearing shoes that cramped her feet, witter | hoels three inches high, or of compressing her graceful waist in a villainous corset or of wear ing a monstrous bunch of jute to conceal the beautiful hair with which nature had gifted her, or of wearing long dresses to trail in the dust or mud. History does not relate that Greek women were ever troubled with corns or misshaped toes, but, on tho contrary, we gather that they were quite as fascinating as our mod* ern pinched-up damsels, and certainly more physically graceful and shapely. Monsieur’s “Tiger,” —Perhaps the most daring scheme for cheating the Parisian customs officers was elaborated by a gentleman w . ? W&8 in the habit of driving his elegant victoria every evening past the barrier at the entrance to the Bois de Boulogne. Ho was al* ways accompanied by a smart groom, who slum bered peacefully upon the box while his mas ter drove. Shortly afterward the carriage would return, and the officials at last became so accustomed to its passage that they ceased to examine it, and the owner drove back into lans at a smart trot, courteously returning their salutations with his whip. That smarV trot was his undoing. One evening the victoria ran violently into a heavy wagon, and master and groom were helplessly thrown out. Mon* sieur was picked up insensible, while from E deep wound in the head of the supposed groom slowly trickled a stream of champagne. The interesting menial was composed of zinc, dex terously fashioned and painted. The carriage was found to contain a zinc “ well.” which was likewise full of champagne. Only One Wheel to Go Round. —A watch having but one wheel is still in existence m France, though manufactured in Paris more than a hundred years ago. This watch was presented to the National Institute in 1790, bo \ deplorable state; but under the skillful treatment of an expert, harmony bo tween the various organs was successfully re established, so that it is even now in going or der. The great wheel, which gives the watch its name, occupies the bottom of the case and the centre of the plate; it has sixty teeth and ifi thirty-three mm. in diameter; its axis carries two pinions, one of which receives the motivs force from a barrel, and the other carries the "" minute work. The function of this great wheel IB quadruple. First, it acts on a lift, then on » lever operating on another, destined to lower the axis of the watch, and lastly on a third fever, the latter serving to return power to the great wheel at the moment when the action re* lenta by the rise of the axis— American Novel Reading in Japan. —Novela and story books in Japan are common. Ths people are diligent readers, and circulating libraries are found in every town and city. Men go around with piles of novels on their backs, btopning at the houses of customers, they leave new parts of a series, or fresh books, and collect the old ones. Thus a reader will week by week receive a new pamphlet fresh from the printers and to finish one book will be obliged to peruse fifty or sixty installments. Nearly all of th© common stones are illustrated. A reader of Japanese novels soon learns to tell the charac ters by their faces and garb, for these faces ara full of expression and faithfully portrayed. Yet to make recognition certain the artist usually marks each character by giving his name, or the first syllable or initial of it. This is put in a small circle on his sleeve. No matter how many persons are described by a writer, the reads* easily recognizes the hero, the villain and the people of lesser note. A Great Fbiend of the Widow.—«' Says an exchange: In the New Hampshire Legislature last Winter a new member, some* — what noted tor “pumping thunder,” made* speech—it was upon a bill for taxing bank divi dends—in which he attempted to be very pa-' thetic in favor of widows who owned bank stock. “Yes, Mr. Speaker,” he exclaimed with indigo nant energy, “tho gentleman from Dover, wh<3 introduced this bill, deaf to the cries ot he* orphan children, would strip the widow,” but before he could conclude the sentence he was interrupted by a laugh. Astonished, but un daunted, he exclaimed, with profound feeling! “ Gentlemen, it is not a subject of derision 1 J appeal to you in all candor to say if it is not worse than stripping. Put on this tax and you will drive the widow to her last shift I” Shonto of laughter here petrified him in his place, and he spoke no more during tho session. Wm. Delphy, Academy Hotel, Balti. more, Md., writes: “Salvation Oil not only re-' lieves rheumatism, but effects an entire cure.’ 9 Price twenty-five cents. A Pig Offends the Czab. —A witty clown, by name Durow, has just been compelled to leave St. Petersburg lor carrying jokes too far. He was giving a performance with a pia trained to various feats. At the man’s com mand, the animal took up from the ground 8J number of Russian coins, including imperials and small silver and copper coms, when, how ever, some rouble notes were thrown down, the pig refused to pick them up, even though whipped. Great amusement was caused bj> this discriminating act, and it was intensified aa a voice cried irom the gallery to the clown! “ You blockhead, if the Finance Minister could not raise the paper rouble in four months, how can you expect a pig to do it ?” Though a fa vorite with St. Petersburg audiences, the clown received orders to leave the city the following day. Pure Air. —A French scientist sayg that the air ot the sea, taken at a great dis tance irom land, or oven on the shore and in ports when the wind blows from the open sea, is in an almost perfect state of purity. Near continents the land winds drive before them an atmosphere always impure, but at 100 kilo meters from the coasts this impurity has dis. appeared. The sea rapidly purifies the pesti lential atmosphere of continents, hence every expanse of water of a certain breadth becomes an absolute obstacle to the propagation of epi demics. Marine atmospheres driven upon land purify sensibly the air of the regions which they traverse; this purification can be recog nized as far as Paris. The sea is the tomb of molds and of serial schizophytes. Taking His Revenge.— Day after day, 1 and for hours at a time, a man sits on a wharf at San Diego, Cal., armed with a four-tined har poon. At intervals the weapon leaves his hand, darts into the water and a squirming stingray iej brought up. He never speaks to any one, and does not encourage conversation from others. Many years ago ho was stung by a stingray, and was laid up for a long time. Since then all hi# time is devoted to an onslaught on the fish. What a Time People formerly had, trying to swallow the old-fashioned pill with its film of magnesia vainly disguising its" bitter ness ; and what a contrast to Ayer’s Pills, that have been well called “ med icated sugar-plums” — the only fear be ing that patients may be tempted into taking too many at a dose. But tho directions are plain and should be strictly followed. J. T. Teller, M. D., of Chittenango, N. Y., expresses exactly what hundreds have written at greater length. He says: “ Ayer’s Cathartic Pills are highly appreciated. They are perfect in form and coating, and their effects are all that the most careful physician could desire. They have supplanted all the Pills formerly popular here, and I think it must be long before any other can be made that will at all compare with them. Those who buy your pills get full value for their money.” “Safe, pleasant, and certain in their action,” is the concise testimony of Dr. George E. Walker, of Martins ville, Virginia. 1 “ Ayer’s Pills outsell all similar prep arations. The public having once use* them, will have no others.” —Berry, Venable & Collier, Atlanta, Ga. Ayer’s Pills, Prepared by Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co., Lowell, Mass. Sold by all Dealers in Medicine.