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1)Publis. hd everyrtsoiAvetsig t! :1 Yoruinll. IRICHEANI) BEACON. - ,EY -P. MANGHAMI, ~~ Edi1W and Propiletor . . . l £IAT da~it &n f alakr Ite atasi .uD . *6IA C 100 1 itgi e n'1'erinI f StabbscripticutI : Of Iw opy one year............ . . . Ll.noII.)Ill~ lewcopy, six miii h .........l.. 2.ii" ibcrae. et atauIe minm. t Ten copies. in clubs one year, each...., 0 41 Singl copies ..... I o m All enrsul ripionsth lisr until thin adlvance. * Iaih rn~ii1~·iiin t oft. Ito lazit1. itt ii ion isi pad. I 1 ýV.O..N 1* flsýIIIA[II" MA '(.1Ii C. 1- :º. i1 HOL ii, li Miscellaneous Selections. JOIHN RBED'8 THOUGHTS. There's a mist on the meadow below; the her ring-frogs chirp and cry; It's chill whe the sun down, and the sod is not The worhl is a lonely place, It eems, and I don't know why. I see, as I lean on the fence, how wearily trudges han With the tiel ,r the, Spring in his bones, like a weak anwl elderly ruonl I've had it many a time, Ibt we must work when we can But day after day to toil, and ever from sam to sun, Though up to the season's front and nothing be I left unadene, Is ending at twelve like a clock, and beginning again at one. The frogs make a onrrowful noise. and yet it's the time they mate; There's something comes with the Spring, a lightness or 'ele a we'llht; There's soasething coan's with the Spring, and it seems to me it's fate. It's the hankering after a life that y,.tl never have learned to know; It's the discontent with a life that is always thus and so It's the woderin g what we are, and whets' we are going to go. My life is lucky enough, I fancy, to most men's eyes, For the more a family grows, the oftener some one dies, And now it's run on so long, it couldn't he other wise. And sister Jane and myself, we have learned to claim anl yieldl; She rules in the house at will, and I in the barn and geld; So, nigh uion thirty years!-as if written and signed and seitaled. I couldn't change if I would; I've lost tie how and the when; One lay my time will be ap, and Jane will be the mistress then, For single women are tough, and live down the single men. She kept me so to herself, she was always the stronger hand, And my lot showed well enough, when I looked around in the land; But lntmlred and sore at heart, and I don't quite understand. I wonder how it had been if I'd taken what others need, The plague, they say, of a wife, the care of a youmger breed ? If Edith lneasanton now were near me as Eatith Beed? Suppose that a son well-grown were there In the jdace of lhan, And ffelt myself in him, as I was when my work I shoold feel no older, are, and certainly more a man! A daughter, besides, in the house; nay, let there We never can overdo the luck that can never be, And what has come to the most might also have come to me. I've thought, when a nelshbor's wife or his child was care led away, That to have no loss was a gain, but now-I can hardly say; He seems to possess them still, under the ridges of clay. And share and share in a life is, somehow, a dif ferent thing From etroperty held by deed, and the riches that I fiel n close in te breast!-I think it must be the Spring. I'm drying up like a brook when the woods have been cleared arounmd; You're sure it must always run, you are used to the sight and sound Bu it shrinks until there s olylel a stony Atit In the ground. There's nothing to do but to take the days as they comen sadgo And not worry wth thegh that nobody likes to asbow, For people oelm talk of t ththgs they want to know. There's times when the way is plain, and every thing nearly right, And then of a des y stand Ilke a man with aoloadd sight; A bh seems ofka a beast, in the duskof a fall tag oght. I t move; my Joints are sti; the weather is breeding rain, And Dan is hrrying on, with his plow-team ap to the lanme. I'll go to the village store;i d rather not talk with Jane. _esprd ·ylesr In Atentic far March,. MADAME DUFOUS. "I womina who abe Is !" said Walter Drummond, looking back as he left the churchyard. " Who ?' asked Kate Hyalop with a dis ple d air. 'That lady n the blue and d abawl, who mst opposdte to a In edbr ," he am mwued. "Oh! that red-beaded woman r" ladlS maently. 'Why she was tr , el eame; what doelm so ld e be et" "But I wonder who she Is, and where aI comesm rom," resaeted Walter with "Renlly, Walter, you are very odd!l What ooneera ea it be o yours, ad why should you woder about e aIt all" a rrned Kate with iesht maner; ad her betrebi, ikg the hint, let the mate9a te., where ty all heed, warn Jst, a dull English vlle wlthout a history, ad Wltgier's was a ly l atural, mader the drmiie Sooa the whole p- was Itr with the wsm that a Madam Dubur, the yrety eeman who had mat on Sunday In ff.'Donehe led Dyed oa t she wea s Strr it in aman er so oestly a to be ext t wtOolbed. Te mtSasgr -ame rg .ybto church, wM geehimed brmI eimg herbver in* qu. l*rrI . ... It sw M te as ar to yLhd I:L a u ie-- -"ai LmaI,-esri al -te t waschh em ea 5o IOw ladese Dueser wa mrkes tws a slme tdapdto bhe l irhe a -- - au ding mid, t Urn l s at L eor Nu Dwas aR"- areda s red b end bwes a di as hle oi th wh Jt l5 r m hain sh a awt kinr dthem, set m sao unr m Lao o usa her moSher wasL wr vcty; t- action she had with her hands, "Miss Kate Hyslop? She is tlge lee-maiden bound in chains! the makes me shudder as if she was a ghost." "Or a detective." said Kate with ens phasis; when some good-natured friend reorted to her what the new-comer had The word struck. It was bitter and cruel; but then bitter things and cruel always do strike; and Miss Ilvslop's sharp surmise made the roand of the par ish underhand. tolks whispering among themselves, "She is not so far out, isn't our Vicar's young lady: and maybe the' detec.tive will light on our fine Madaname some day, at last." But no one said this to htrself, and the pretty strange r still lived in the sunshine and nourished herself on incense. Walter Dlrummond's habits werechang ing. From a docile, steady, methodical young man, in to time, provelbially good- I nattared if not very bright, and as intno cently candid as a child, he was fast be coming irregular. uncertain, and reticent. ll. was always out, and no one knew where: nor would heexplain when he cmne home, silent and depressed as no one had ever seen himn before. Neither his mother's I business nor his fiancee's pleasures touch ed him. Kate looked on at this change, and I said nothing. She had evidently her own mind on the matter, and Mrs. Drummond i who knew her, was quite aware of the future preparing for her boy. But she I wisely left them to fight i. out between 1 them, knowing that the struigle had to c 'me, if not about one thing then about another; and Kate had to be crowned c queen when all was over. " Walter, I want you to ride with me a to-day," said Kate one morning. " I am very sorry," he answered hur riedly; "I cannot to-day." 'No! Why?" " I have the boat to look to," he said. She fixed her cold eyes on him steadily, I and her look brought the blood into his a face. "" Are you going to visit Madame Du four again?" she said scornfully. " You I need not speak, Walter. your looks are an- 1 swer enough," she added. " Pray don't add falsehood to the list of your lately acquired accomplishments. It is what I have longsuspected; what. knowing you, I and how weak you are, I foresaw from I the first." "And what is it you suspected and fore- 1 saw from the first, may I ask?" said Wal ter angrily. " Why should I say it? You know as well as I ; and I don't care to dig in plw- a ed ground," she answered slowly. " I will not allow your Insinuations!" said Walter with vehemence. "Will you not? But if I choose to make them ?" "Then I will not listen to them," he said. " Your friend shall, Walter," said Kate deliberately. " Kate, you are trying me too far!" he cried. "What folly is this you have taken "No folly at all, Walter-on my side. I will forbear to characterize what you a have taken up, on yours. I only know a the fae, that all these long absences of yours-these mysterious affairs which oceupy you from morning to night-me a I simply that you are spending the time a you deny to us with this Madame Dufour. Isay no more, and insinuate no more-no I more at least,"she added wirh a slight sneer, "than your own conscience ech- - Oes." f " And If I do see Madame Dufour at times. am I not master of my own ac tieons?" said Walter. " I also of my own thoughts," she re plied. " You are free to be your own mistress for all time, and in all ways, so far as I am concerned," said Walter indignantly, a great hope irradiating his face as he spoke. I " Thanks," she answered, her monoto nous voice as calm as ever. " You meant e that for magnanimity, I daresay; but 1 shall not accept it. I always have been, and always mean to be my own mistress I under all circumstances; you know that, I Walter. But we have wandered from our point-will you ride with me toV-da?" ' "I told you before, I canot, ' said Walter sullenly. "Ver welt,' sheanswered; but neith er shall dme Dufour." She rose on this and walked steadily and quietly out of the room,Ivins Wl ter wth thesoetion that a thondgboit had fallen at his feet. Kate had seen clearly and spoken truly. Walterhad carried to the beautitfl stran ger the lnner wealth of a nature which, until now, had been given to no one. He ad engaged 6imet to Kate ayslop two years ago, it is true; but it was a thing that had been done for him, more thanu one whhkh he had voluntarily chosen for bimseitf His paremrs wished it; Kate's bher had wished it; and Kate herselft wtped it-which cleched the matter. rthe best, however, Kate was only to bi like a sister; not always so niee, and not always so dear. When Madame Dutfour came, the ebalned fbmntain leaped into life and melo dy. To say that be loved her is to say little. It was adoration more than comr moa love. He loved her as he had never loved befoueas he had no prvision he could baveever loved at all. And bshe well she iat piayd, ad then shelernt. He was "her boy, she used to say with those sweet llof hers that looked as if they had not bee in existence more than twenty r at moset-Kate H a l was d wbe was long peat y, and pdt y" sad te yoth- just two tar oldr than she ooked-loaged to tidl b that. If hi was a boy to hrIn the Iteaiy o his dewdou, the nethI of hs persunariy, ho was a man to - alt la the p on and pomwer of is love. t nomw hatwsasktedet d? t Le to ewhh Kate's not It weoo ibes i. He i hose wi to do; ablandonMa Douor Cbsesk with his bds;tee, d to eldt the em he loel btter tlha his lo-ed If lso, i neas i hel her, she w l was so Sabde Mm dared not even bit at M blov-or he mus t app~t r ,ad, bremk his I wh et med , s sIe e a whos oLu D sf her lofor At lmee-ntia he rushed of io Elm ta m Id Id am mome what Was hesd Half , sel site 8eti, sndke h lying, hald lee asw, Dehor , was dn Dhher as abeet wan dyo -drese, a - the eed eIvet, wed win l sau d bweis, and a largeh bowl of old Venan bbal e . It was ethese k ed laeria -I le s "Tad dranke h a ma -- Es H lohad wht is talled a wholesome uI detll and liked cheese and beer. AAh, mybo7!" she am with her a reusing acceat and young-motherly man ner, and holding out both her hands to m Las heame ln, bat not riMli to re ealve him. "Toujours leblenveunl" "H Bow kind yo are to let me come," stammered Walter, flinging himself on a footstool by her side. lie was pale and agitated, but his eyes told the old story as eloquently as they had always told it. "llHw can I ever thank you for all your kindness to me?" " By not assuming that I have been kind at all," she raid: "or." lightly touching his shoulder with her fan, "by putting it the other way, Mr. Walter, and counting me grateful to you." The) oung man lun hback his head: Ma:ulame Dufour's fair face flushed, and her eyes drooped at the love that was in his. lie took her hand and carried it to his i lips. "Better than the wealth of the world !" he murmured in a low voice: but she, playfully pulling one of hi brown curls, said in a pretended anger I that was more bewitching than evetwr her kindness, "That is what you deserve, naughty boy ! You presume too much, I mon ami." Just then a ring came to the fron' door. "'Tiens! who can th at be?" she cried, with surprised eyebrows. Walter first crimsoned like a schoolboy caught, and then turned pale like a man before whom is a struggle unto death. lie knew who it was, clearly enough; i and Madame Dafour read his knowledge I in his face. So. the battle had come, had it? Bien ! i She was ready. She never raised herself from her loung- d Ing attitude, but even curled hers-lf round into softer lines. The tender man ner grew more tender, the n.weet. low voice more caressing, the creeping touch of her long white hand more velvety, as 1 it first pushed back the golden fringe tluat shadowed her forhead, then rested on Wal- I ter's chestnut head ; the tremulous facet no longer dimpled with smiles or quiver- i ed with sympathy, but took on itelf at mask half moc.king, half impassive, and I wholly irritating to an antagonist; and t then bliss Hyslop was ushered into the I room, to find the siren in her most dan- 1 gerous mood, surrounded by her most , bewitching accessories, with her own I lover, who was also her rival's, sitting ut her fee', worshipping. ' Miss Hyalop! how very kind !" said t Madame DIufour, in a pretty, languid' voice. "A rare pleasure, but none the t less welcome," she aided, offering her hand. "I came for Mr. Drummond, Madame Dufour; not to pay you a visit." said Kate, in her stoniest manner. "Walter, I you are wanted at home." "Poor Walter ! I hope he is not to be scolded very severely at home," said I Madame Dufour, with a mocking accent. " Who wants me?" asked Walter indif 1 ferently. 1 " I," said Kate. 1 " Your pleasure?" was Walter's reply, t not looking up. " I prefer not to discuss my affairs in I public,' said Ka*e. "'1 want you; that I is enough; so, if you please, Walter, come; and at once." " I am engaged." said Walter; " I can not." " Madame Dufour, I must ask your as sistance," then said Kate, turning to her I rival. " Will you kindly command Mr. !)rummond to obey me?' " What an extraordinary proposition !" laughed the siren. "What do you take meTor, Miss Hyslop ? II "What do I take you for?" repea ed a Kate, very slowly, and eyeing her keenly. " Well, I might take you for many things 'a -for an actress may; or an adventuress; t for arunaway; perhaps for a woman who , ought to be-where shall I say ?--n Mill- 1 bank for forgery, like that Clara Bell the I papers were so full of just before you d cane here; or I might take you for an d hones: woman, intending no evil to any one, and carefhl to avoid scandal. You see, Madame Dufour, a stranger as you I are may be anything. Who knows?" During Kate's speech Madame Du four's face had not changed a muscle, save the faintest quivering of her upper lip, and the sudden starting of big drops both on it and on her brow. "You have a Iertile fancy, Miss Hyslop," she drawled out with a little laugh. " Really your roll-call of posslbil ities Is so crowded, I cannot remember half my probable characters." ' Have you taken leave of your senses, Kate*" demanded Walter sternly. " 4o; but you have," she replied, as sternly. "Again I ask, Walter, will you leave Madame Dufour and come with me?" "And again I answer, I will not." said Walter taking the long white hand in his. " You have made It n ry, Kate, that some one should protect Madame from in yaou very wise. However, your wisdom or you: folly is no business of mine. I have done my duty; and yo must act as you choose.' Without another word she turned round, and went out; and as she shut the street-door afterher Madam Dufour sank into Walter's arms la a violent It of sob bing and weeping; and Walter, holding her to his hart, kissed away her tears, and told her that be loved her better than life itself, and that he would devote hit life to her service, now aad for ever. "Dear boy!" she msaid, at length, smil ing through the disorder of her pason. 'It was worth the anguish ofenduring her insolence to know that I have such a ureux chevalier-that I have such a gal lant soul from so ungenlal a fate !" And while this scene was talng place Kate was wakin homewar throngh the Iae, muttering, half aloud, " I wonder if that shaft struck true! 1 eaId aot read her hae. I wonder if It is she, afterall! That foolish flow! But Lwilnltlet him go. allthesame. He suite me; ad be will -n frget that wicked woman when he lads out what abe is, ifsheisasl bellevehertobe. If she is not--" But this thought displased her, and she pat It fom he r to indulgethe dream that she was what a ertatn leter-re eeived that mamng from London In an swer to one of inql from her tochlag a suspicIon she had trlaed from the Mist-gave great caus to suappops Katewas so r wte In hergsneraton that she oald held h we. Having at her shbolt, eald to walt the mresult. A rdl, when Walter rs tamed hme latalila evealng, she re oelved hIam with the quiea stoidity com ma to hr d mothetr by wrd or look made tshe mtssest rerenae to the stormy seema that had tahenpaeat Elm Cottage that . 8 ted, too,uthe re wore charged; and -aled golden opinions for her own pat for the gene' rans aectlon they d she displayed to wards one so austieory. "Oh! Ikuow him. Hewilleome back to his better self a soon as this horrid ereatmure ha gone and go she shall," she said, milg, while Mrs. Drummnd ksed he tmearly, and Vicar called her " bleassed amoang women." "Madame,"'!hhe aid to Mrs. Drummond two or three days after this, during which they hadscareely seen Walter' nor had she noticed a crtain letter of his, giving her baek her freedom, an I breakilag of theproposed msrriage: "I want you to ask Madanme I )ufour to dinner t'-:aor. row.' "My. love!'" aid the Viecar'; wit' in a, tone l attoni-hIment: -'why havethat odi ouis woman hie ' " '"Iio noit ask me. pray." she answered. S"I wih it." "Welll. my dear. of c'ulrse vo know we all study your wishes in everytlhing." said Mrs. I)runenond humblr. "I alim sure. if 1 you like i , I have no objection; and I su.p po-e pal wiall have none." "hanks. A gentlenman is eomning front London," then sai Kate intdif;.rentlv. ''"What is the neaningof this. my boy?" I asked ,prett Ma.lame Dulour. when thel servant brought in a note tromi the Vicar- < age. requesting the pleal-sure of her con-. pany at dhinner to-nmorrow at haltf past six o'clock. Walter was startled, too. What did it tmean? liat his father and mother taken to heart how things st.e)l with hime: and i were' they prei.ared to receive her hle love'd as their own ? "S:hall I go?" the.n asked M~iadlme. `" lh, ye .: yes!" exelaimecd Walter. i '"You wish it. sly Iy?"'' 1 "Wish it ! D)o I wish t º live in heaven !" lie criel. "'lon't you know it is heaven to 1 Ien where von are?" t "'lBt thi terrible Mi-s Kate: will she like to see me'?"t "O)lh : don't you know that my mnuther h would not have askLCe you else.?" answered Walter innocently. ":Kate is the mnistress t of the Vieara:e, not my mother." 'Andl she will not iniult me again? She a will not pumnish ne, Waiter, for wh it II cannot hleilp--your love for me; and"--in f a lower voicce. :t siay. sweet, tremulous voice--"mine for you?" )On his knee's betore her.his fresh, young. fervid a.we turned upward to hiers as she bent so gracefully. ,o tenderly towardl him, his glad eyes dark and ael ,ist, with I the passivnate love which at last had found c its homelu, Walter poured forth his thanks, . his adoration, his protestatioe.s there was I nothilng to fear. and hIls assurance of de-' fence, in a breath : and Madame ISulfur. c smniling, radiant, lovely, turned to her t writing-table and wrote her acceptance of t the invitation on pink scented paper with t a golden mlonograun and coronet on the top. V You see." she said., with a pretty laugh, It pointing it out to Walter. "I ant really a I countes : but this Is the only sign of my c state in which I indulge myself. A coun teas with a couple of maids in a remote r English village!" The gentleman from London came, true t to his time; and Kate took it on herself t to show hin the one local lion, namely, i the church, with its old monuments, its y fine Norman arch, its quaint carvings, and a the like. Their talk was interesting f meanwhile; but it was not on the things they went to see ; and a listener might have heard, " Madame Dufour," " Clara B1ell," "forgery." "actress," "clever es ca:pe," " known bad character," uttered t more than on'e. But it came at last to a conclusion. the gentleman saying warmly. "But after all, miss, you have been the cleverer of the two," as they turned up i the l:uae to the Vicarage, to dress for din ner-and Madamne )Dufour. Exhetly at the half-hour she came; more enticing than ever, thougeht Walter, as he flew into the hall to receive her. lie I brought her into the room. leaning on his c arm, his poor foolish heart bounding with pride and joy. Kate and his as yet un annulled engagement with her were alike forgotten, as he led his queen. his a saint, his idol, to his mother; and it was with tifllculty that he prevented himseltf from saying out before them all, "Moth- 1 er, tdke her to your heart; she is your e daughter!" lie did, however, hold his peace, and only Kate read him clearly. and .hrugged her shoulders over the words. Graceful and soft 'were the few sentences said, in her slow, half lisping voice, by the fair faced stranger to Mrs. D)rmmond. who received them awkwardly. lhalf.timidly. as it conscious of the storm that was brewing. And then she turned to the Vicar, and made the old man's eyes sparkle with the caressing charm she threw into such an ordinary salutation as that of a guest to her host o , entering. To Kate the bowed with a pretty little air of trlumlh, and glanced hastily at the back of the gentleman from London, standing slightly apart and in the shadow. "I think there is some one here who knows you." then said Kate Hyslop, slowly. "Mr. Plumstead, you know this lady, I think ?" The gentleman from London turned quickly round. "An unexpected meeting, Mss Clara Bell," he said with a eruel t agh, and tapped her expressively on her shoulder. One fleeting spasm of fear and agony transfigured her loveliness to horror as he spoke, and then the candid blue eyes looked up straight into his, the sweet, small month quivered into its usual half. shy, half-plaintive smile, the graceful body swept a long, low courtesy, and the silvery voice said smoothly, "You are under some mistake, sir. My name is Madame Dufour-Caroline Dufour-and I have not the honor to know you." " Game to the last, I see !" laughed Mr. Plunmstead coarsely. "But the day of reckoning is conme. my lady, and your fine airs go for nothing. You have been wanted bor some time, yon ke:ow, for that little mistake you made about young Charle Lawsona's name to that check you presented. By the look of things, I'm afraid we shan't get much out of the fre there," he added, in a kind of aside; ' and now I've found you I don't mean~to let you go agaito, I promise you. You have no right to comaain; you have whad retty long iannings, all things con " Walter! kill him !" shrieked Madame Dulbmur, turning wildly to her young lover. She had no need to urge him. Already his hands were twisted In the neckeloth of the detective, when, quick as thought, Mr. Plumstead drew a truan cheon from his pocket, and gave the boy ablow that rendered further Interferenee from him Impomible. SMy boyr my boy! You have killed him" r the miderable woman, fing ing herseif on her knees beside him. "Wataler! look up! speaktome! Brave, good, Innocent boy, speak to me once again !"she kept on repeatng, while mobs withoettears-thee terrible mbs of fear mInlled with angunish-shook her whole frame, uas she crouched close to the pale face, kissing it wildly. " Insolent ! abandoned !" said Kate, In deep tones, striking her hands from Wal ter's faee. "Your plaee Is not there." "Ah! but I loved him!" pleaded Madame Dufonr,with unconscious ptho. "Whatever I may be. Iloved him !" "Take her away," msaid Kate, sternly. "She has stood between us long enough." "They shall not take me!" she Sscreamed; but Mr. Plumtead bent over I her quickly; and, before she we!l knew that he had taken her hands in his, he had slipped on a pair of handeuff.s, and I had her at his mercy. " Loosen his cravat, throw water in his I face, and keep him quiet when he recot era; Sand don't fret, madam," to thepoor moth I er who was weeping violently on the Sother side. said the detective, as he pre par:l to pass out. leaving them with the boy lying as if dead on the floor with no more alpparent concern than it' Ihe had knockel d over a rabbit. It was all in the I way of his profession--merely a unit in I I s averwes--and he knew he had not I kiilled him. "" Now, then, my bwauty," he laughed, I turning to the poor wretech alternately cowering and raving in his gralsp, **to yolr hoiuse if youL please; and then we willgpct our litle bu-iness settled." l' he p.seid out through the village. st fr consenting to apllwaranees a to i cover wi:h a shawl the geohlen hlit ad that had so lately borne itself in triumnlph. and which was now so bitterly ablaseil, and to concmmeal the (ruel hanudelifls that shlonie among the bracelets on her wri ts. She was a prize, worth taking., anJ he wa pleasd with his day's work. Ye ars pasled. and Kate Ilysliop. for all her money and unrelaxing determination to marry Walter. was Kate Hlyslop still. and Walter [)rulmlnond, a sad. grave il:,n. pirenmaturely old. and always bear ing that heart treak of his aboult with ; himn. wa: living in London, In an isolated miserable fe~hion enoutgh, seeming to have little to do wi h life any way, and I to have parted ftrever with happine.ssand t holw. Hil tather and mother were dead. mudi he halI made no new friends. The I nily interest he took in anything was in y prisons and re.frmstories. These lie vi Ited co(is alltly; constantly, too, wander nd about the lower haunts of poverty and vice; or. seallddely chauning his mnetilod. le would roam about thw park andl the fathionable squares. always searching. 1 Raways hoping, and ever pursuing what 1 he never overtook. Ills rh tarh be Ltlme a kind of monomania with him : t but he never saw again the woman he sought. though day by day he said to himlself-now the moment had surely 1 come. he would find her to.day : and I when lie had found her, lie would take her to his heltrt lovingly, reverently, as rfold, and in his love he would cleanse her h of her stains. lie never thonught how t.me would have treated her. He looked tir the golden hair, the fidr flower-face, the sweet, shy smile of the early days: end once'. when he gave a grey-haired, haggard, broken-down berggar-woman ut l;lt:a-crown in the street, he did not know why she touched his heart so sadly, ar why she woke a chord that vibrated inm remembrance, but that had no echo in recognition. At last, one bitter winter's night, lie lied. lie had wandered restlessly all the lay. feeling so near and yet sofaroff, as it her form was walking with him side by side, stp for step, ashe pacel the long streets for hours; but he could not see her e face, nor touch her hand, nor hear her i voiee. When the night fell he crept back I to his miserable home, once more disap pointed and his mission unfulfilled. Ilis , heart broke at last; and when they came t to rouse him in the morning, lie was dead. d As they laid the poor worn body I str:lght, and fair for Its last rest. they found suspended round his neck a locket in which was a long tress of golden hair. c a date, a monogram, and " For ever," un- e Ilerneath. And when a wretched beggar- I woman died of drink and privation in a I police-cell. that same winter, they found on her, too, wrapped in a worn bit of pa per that had once been pink and stamped in gold. a short, crisp, chestnut curl, and " Walter," with the same date as his written within; while a trembling hand, of evidently later days. had scrawled in unsteady characters across, "My only real love. God bless him !"-Londoe So ciety for F'bruary. Cotteweed Sagar. Every one in the East by this timne knows that a sugar is obtained from the sugar maple. This tree abounds in the Eastern States. As soon as the sap be gins to move, in the spring, holes are bored into the trees. wooden spigots in serted, and the sap flows out into the lit tle buckets provided for the purpose. This toap is then subjected to evaporation, and the sediment becomes maple sugar. In the West, the common silver maple of our Eastern cities has been experi mented with and f, and to yield a tolera bly good atrtle. Anothermaple, the box elder. or negundo, as it is called, also yields considerable. As these two maples grow very rapidly, they are often planted as much for sugar-making purposes as for the timber they yield or the shelter from the keen prairie winds which they afford. It has been found, however, that sugar producing trees are not confined to the maples. The poplars yield an article lit tle inferior to the true sugar maple of the East; and the annual product made by thu settlers in the cotton-wood districts of the West is by no means inconidera ble. The cotton wood poplar is one of the best Miends to the far Western settler. In many districts there is no timber except along the river banks and water courses, and it is then often conaned solely to the cotton-wood. It forms his firewood, his fenee-posts, and his cattlocorrals; and now it appears, as well as boiling his ecof fee, it furnishes the sweekening to make it palatable. Although found naturally in damp plaes it seems to grow as natu rally on dry land; and it is used for shel ter belts on farms and street trees for the towns, It grows with imlmense rapidity. The writerhas seen branches wlteh have made ten feet in length in asingle season; widle some stumps of trees cut down have indicated by their anual rings a di ameter of two feet in twenty years. The timberis soft and not very eaduring; but, take it all in all, the eotton-wood, to the Western man, is byno means ad. spised blesing.-Forsy's ',ss. A Ralway Nuleme. The English Railway system rbasatlst one advantae over ours-the traveler is not imte every fve minutes duriug his ourney, by venders of small wares. There, in ech station, the haudiome and well-supplid book-stall ilves the traveler ano tya to ifralih himself with then role or e r he my desire; and then, pe wy in the arll ria he is seuered feomnternrtIe Buthere the railwamy cormpres the privileges of the ears to render, and ddi~brately sbject puseges to a systsmatiued an meekness, is submitted to without a mur mar. Seareely has the train left the sta tion, ere a boy appears with a aurmfll of papers. He Inoseontat to walk through the train, quiet rding these who wIes to purchase aopportult to do so; but he thrusts his wares intoerbe 's lap, andl then immediately proceeds to gather them up. No sooner is the ear canvassed for the newspapers, than the vender re appears with a supply of candy-parcels, and thes e simlare airly breed upon every one's attention; then comes pop-orn, gumdrops, comie newspapers, almanaes, pamphlets of all sorts, doughnuts anui sandwiches, priaze-parels in whlIech the lucky purchaser will find a ring-the list Il almost interminable, the Industry of tile small boy wortny of a better cause, and the tax upon the traveler's patience and endurance rendered almost intolera able.-A-plpetoo. The "Three-Bottle" Times. IN those days Scotland would have been a rich tiell for Father Mathew's Ia Ihor. Hlabit: ol drunkemines were comn mon alike to rich and poor. They were loaseiated with goodfellowship. and were tenderly dealt with. even by the church. The orgies of I)sb:ldist.one Hall. graphi cally tdescribdl ill i:b Roy, found their c•ounterpart in maniy a *i'ottish manor. The' old bacchanlalian rhymne, '*" ll nl . swo.. to I".id, g.H.* to btdi ,dwr., llk a tl.. Il avces l* o, andt dit it n 4 )t..Iwr; 111it he that ows "l thw, I.s to Itwd In lllow, L.ar-w Ing, j..ll1 liti, atnd dii all honle.1 T1.l was. qulotted, lhalf ill earnlest, as apolig for the ex.'Xt.,caes which we'althy and re lwe't:ableh hosts. tunder the guise of hoipi t lity, literally forced uiponi their guetsta, wit nIt tihe clotht was drawn and the ladle:I had aban.loned the dlinner-table to their riotous lords and ma-ters. I i;have hea:rd lIIl father. thar n once. i rela:te what lhapl·ntted on tutch :ul tr'cato t io. when he wah s weet of thile actors. li had , teei tinling, u itli a party of e'ighlt or ten1 gentlemlen tandi a tew ladies. at tile luxu- i t ri'mlls ecountry-se'at of a friend who had1: shown hIinl imulch kindne.ss. When the ladies withdrtw, the lhot. having cauLed I tihe butler to set out on tihe t:able two doz-' oIn Iottles of port, sherry, anlld claret. locked the door. put the key in his pocket, shirking to-nighlt ! Not a mann lea.,ves this room till these bIttles are emptied." No remark was made ill reply, an:d tile Mine palt':s'edi round. MVy father drank tlree ; gl:asses-thle utmoltst limit to which I lave ever k nown lhimlto go, though he halb. ituallv took a glass or two of sherry alter elinner. At time foulrtlh rounid lie lpatsd the bottles without tillingK. His host re ilons)trated, at tirst in jest, then in a half-I angry tone, when the recusant iersisted. I Thierupn t my father, approaching a front wilndow which opened on the lawn. only a few fi'et below it, threw up the f a:sh, and leaped out, followed by three or four other guests. This enraged their host. As the fugi tives looked bac'k, they saw him upset the linner table with a violent kick. smashing Iottles and gla-,ses, and declaring, with an oath, that, if they didn't choose to drink that wine. niob(tdy else should. The deserters jonlled the ladies in the drawing-room, but tihe host did not reap pear : and my father, as leading conspira tor, lost. and never regained, his friend ehip.-R-obert Dale Owen in Atlantic for .l,, rc/t. Proportlen of Cream. Few persons are aware, probably, of the exteitt to which the percentage of cream I is influenced by the conditions of the cow. It is a curious fact that any excitement to 4 which tihe animal is subjected causes a very large loss of Beam on the milk. At i the Barre meeting of the Mass. State Board, I)r. Sturtevant of South Framing- 4 ham, said "Under the same feed, and un der the same circumstances, the same cow gave, one day nine and luf "per cent. of cream and another day eighteen per cent. of cream." Thereupon, Mr. Lewis, an old experienced dairyman said : "I can tell a bigger story than that. I have taken a good dleal of pains to test the value of my milk that I have worked into cheese. I have graduated glasses for the purpose, and I have foutad a cow whose uniform percentage of cream was eighteen per cent. reduced to six, in twelve hours, not from any change of food, but from a little excitement. You gentlemen who make butter, be careful to adopt my ad vice and always treat your cow kindly and gently; never get her excited, because every ounce-of excitement will take from her milk one per cent. of cream. 1 have known a cow abused by a furlous, brutal milker, and the percentage of her cream went down one-half. It is astonishing what an effect excitement has on the per centage of cream in the milk that a cow produces. You will be astonished if you will um.ke the test, and make it carefully. I have known a cow, excited from natural causes, to drop her percentage of cream in her milk from fourteen to six per cent. In twelve hours. So I would again repeat, whoever abuses his cow knocks out of his milk a large percentage of the cream." It will readily be seen how important it is to keep the cow quiet and from right and all excitement. The worry by dots., te hurrying and balloing of boys, when driving the cows home from pasture, the kicking and pounding of an angry milker, or any similar cause of excitement will be sure to reduce the quality of the milk to the extent of several per cent. of cream. This fact is too well attested by many careful and experienced dairymen to ad mit of a doubt, and the first object of con cern with the butter dairyman, especially, should be to ee that his cows are treated with the utmost gentleness all the time. The boys who drive the cows home will make a note of this, and when tbe spring comes and cows go out, just mark what we say.--Mas. PfourAgme. A hewspaper Ofee ea Zxibitlte. There are some things too mered for public display, and among them my be clarssed the art and mystery of"'ettlng up" a newspaper. It is annoueed, how ever, in a letter from Vienna, that at the IKternationalm Exhibition now belag or ganized in that city one of the great sights is to be the interior ofa newspaper oaffe, with editor, writers, reporters, printers and publishers at work, just as in ordinary life. The indstrous jornal ists ame tobe shown in a hu bage glass build. ing, like bees in a transparent hive. The editor will be s giving out subect revising arties, ad exemplygwil wate-paper baket at hand the-well known rule in respect to rejected commu alicatkes. Writers will be on view at work of the most varied klad-some at leaders, others at rviews and a few even (if the ebhratr of Austri journllm r l to be Sigoml.asiUtld) at the lace tare, a certain aember of ore, anxious to obtela "feve rbe toes" or to reply to iust but unmr.saeal criti lesmsia be nlowed to appear. Itis tobe hoped that the itmeary perfrmerls wil be well uptn thelr pars, that thie C torwl wearbecgf lg trave aspeot, sad tha th e wrlters llmetb seen pai logforalck of inspiradon or rfllag their memories too frequsmy by tual to books of referene. Cobett cuen ebn. it toodo gether on Knigto Common, tht onewspaper renderamight me by what sort of men they allowed themselves to be lalaaced. Thewriters of the Nea.s Frau Fsee had probably neverheard of Corbett's amusing but not very natelligent mneer. They, at all events, are the heroie gentlemea who, with a love of publicity which preve that their hearts are in their profei , pro pose dring tthe forthoming Vienna Ex hibition todo teir literary and journalis tie work in preseaese of as many thous ands of sight-seers as can be got toether from all parts of the world.-N. Y. I__ pendent. ___ Wr. may as well throw our money into the gutter, or go fighting wind-mills., as to try to make our fellow-creatares b'tter while we neglect the* physical condi teoss. The Value of Beauty. .At a recent agriculturadl metting in l'ennsylv:ania it was diur'sl whletler it was worth while, from a monetarv point of view, to ornallment firm groulnds. It is remarkable that, of the great inutmbwr of things disicatussel, lnol question icmled :o very interestinig. Onie would think that such a snubihj.t neee.,d no ,li.ussiotn; but when we drive throimlh the country and 4see so lt .liny fatrmiho,..s not only witnholt beauty, but a:bohlteily without comfort--an:d ev.en in ldesian:ue of all lt';atyv, Ias if cheerless. mlil-lrable condi tion were acttually prtti ramle-it is clear that tle quest.iont was not at all a pointlc-s one. One sleaker at that nweting pult the mal'ter in a practical lizht ini this way: If, hlie asked. we are buyving apleh in tefw market. andu have two samples twx' itflre Iit, both large. botlh of tequally excellent flavor, both, in faht, prelci,.ly the saute in every r..sleet. ext('It thalt one is of a greenl. lllinvitln, tint. and the other red and rouv-which do we take? Indeed, thel' in eewry breanst a love of lwa:;ty, miin n many nreslets it is all we live fir. 'e like thiis orld I me:lau it is lantitil ; 'eatlushethe ilower bloomll, the treeTs grow. and the birds sing; eni allse our eyes, ears and all ,uir .sens are pleased-l: and be '.me it is be.uty that iiled- more than any other element thoem charmis of life which Ms delight us ; a:tl, whether we are conlsc.iolis ot it or not. it enters largely in all our ealculationis as to, what we .-hail buy and what we will own. To mlak., our Ihones Iaulltil'fl shllolllul t ithe one bbjeet oft our lives. The ilere making money is all very well. It is in d. eel one of the virtues. Ih.e who is will ing to work. and is anxions to mLake and to save money by his hard labor, may have vices; but lie Is - "hlom .o Ioarsely had as the shiftless spendthrift wiit. while ridiculing the saving habits of parents or friends, is yet willing to bortow from or spend money for them But too often these praisewortly. frugl., anuld saving habits degenerate into a rule of life. and very little happiness or good in any shape results fromn the money nmade. A very little of thee savings-a very little time spent on beautifying onets hlomc-put a new phase on existetnce: and we really believe men would live an average of ten years more than they do if they were to say once in a while "berone dull care" in the mere matter of money-making, and devote a little time each day or so to mak ing a sort of Eden of their home and the surroundings. But it is not so much of the mere pleasure that we would speak. There is actual money in beauty. As the speaker above said of a beautitful apple, so it is of a beautiful farm. As a general rule a place in which taste is exhibited, and everthing is kept up in nice style, will bring double that of one in which misery and ruin rules complete. It is to be noted, however, that these pretty places are sel dom for sale. Those who cultivate these tasteful habits with the view of selling their places In consequence of improving them, seem to thrive in every other way ; and in time come to the conclusion that they can afford it. and may as well enjoy life in the midst of beautiful surroundings as to sell out for other people to enjoy. T . Press. Bmance of a Hair. To hear a French woman glorify France and vilify its enemies is to feel your own blood tingle. I heard, only the other day, of an incident quite apropos to this. A French lady, who married a German bar on some ffteen years ago, and who lives at Berlin in a style befltting her wealth and rank, had at dinner not long ago some fifteen or twenty Prussians sealed around her table. Notwithstanding her marriage she bad remained French at heart. In the course of conversation the Prussians be gan to bewail Paris, poor Paris, which was no longer Paris, and to predict that in ten years Berlin would be the capital of the world. She listened angrily, until no longer being able to withhold her indig nation she freed her mind to the effect that Paris was Paris yet, would always hie Paris, the most brilliant, most attract ive. most civilized and artistic city in the world. Moreover. she would lay a warer that her Prussian friends might select the most ugly and the most insignificant thing they might find anl Paris would make of it an object of beauty, such as Berlin would not dare to attempt. The wager was saoepted. and the next day the lady received a mall box, which upon opening she found to contain a single white hair. What could be made of one white hair? She did not know; but, concealing her embarrasment, she sent the hair to Paris accompanied by a letter giving an account of the wager, the dreumstances, &e. In due course of time she reeeived the box bmck from Paris. And what think .you Paris had madeof the white hair? Ithad been eneloed in a open trench of gold, which e rossed a medailion surrouneded with brilliant. At the top of the medal lon the Prssian eaglle in black enamel, with wings extended, held the white hair inl its elaws. Then suspended fomn the haidr was a little eseatcheon in white ea amel bearing this inscription: "Alsace and Lorranlae. You bold them only by a hair." It is not very probable that the Prusetsans were eager for another bet. Paris Cor. N. F. World. Biveer laws. We are glad to observe that the State of iladin shows igs of reform In reglrl toher divorce laws. It has itherto had the unenvlable reputation, and that, too, not without reason, of running a great divorce mill attractive to all eustemers whbo want th sort of ~art ground at the shortest~ mode. The le tur has just passd a ill rednl atbe number of k al ueasu for divore, reqmiriag that pI b sha ll have a eotnuous resldence in the State fr at lest two years before th _kJblI be endtlsd to eommence pro I i a divoree sroit, and aim pm vdingthatwherme tbhe petition has been glrmand without dequase ntI , te eae Qo be sweed ad the dere mt Tme urposs of the Mll Is to mese the law mere tr tad ts by lessen the felihlty with lv3 diveas an b procured. The di t eebat wll be a dammrase in the number of su sdh, and a m n puble m eseofthe ae. Uty sad of the marriageee meat. hNmm w e less likey he. after to invite the temporary resdene of persons who want to afind the shortest way to bra the lea bods of ymunalrr. If tl the Stats wold at unlorm divorce code, and then s`tate would recognise the alidty of a divoree decree in every other State, our Amerian Jurisprudene in respect to this subject would be very materIally im proved. There lano good reason why such should not be the fact. It would correct many of the evils wbhich grow out of the present divensity of legal prac tice.--N. F. ldrepeadet. Tana is no outward sign of pollteness which has not a deep mosal reason. True education teaches both the sign and the reason. Behavior is a mirror in whbich l every one shows hIs own image. There r is a politenaesl of the heart alidn to love. from which apring the eaiest politeness of ootward beIavr.