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Major Lawrence, aon of Judge Law rence of Virginia, whose wife was a Lee. Is sent on a perilous mission by Oen. Washington, lust after the winter at Val ley Forge. Disguised In a British uni form Lawrence arrives within the enemy's lines. The Major attends a great fete and saves the "Lady of the Blended Rose” from mob. He later meets the girl at a brilliant ball. Trouble Is started over a waits, and Lawrence Is urged by Ills partner. Mistress Mortimer (The Lady of tne Blended Rose), to make his escape. Lawrence la detected as a spy by Captain Grant of the British Army, who agrees to a duel. The duel la stopped by Grant s friends and the spy makes a dash for liberty, swimming a river following a nar row escape. The Major arrives at the ■hop of a blacksmith, who Is friendly, and knows the Lady of the Blended Rose. Captain Grant and rangers search black smith shop In vain for the spy. Law rence joins the minute men. Grant a n d his train are captured by the minute men* Lawrence Is made prisoner by an Indian and two white men. who lock him In a strong cell. Peter advises Lawrence not to attempt to escape as "some one would send for him. Grant’s appearance adds mystery to the combination of cir cumstances. Lawrence again meets the of tho Blended Rose, who Informs him that he Is In her house: and that she was In command of the party that cap tured him. The captive Is thrust Into a dark underground chamber when Cnptaln Grant begins a search of the premises. After digging his way out. Lawrence finds the place deserted. Evidence of a battle and a dead man across the thres hold. Col. Mortimer, father of the Lady of the Blended Rose, finds his home In ruins. Capt. Grant Insists that Lawrence be strung up at once. Miss Mortimer ap pears. explains the mystery and Law rence Is held a prisoner of war. Law rence escapes through plans arranged by the Lady and sees Grant attack Miss Mortimer. Grant is knocked out by Law rence. who comes to Miss Mortimer s re lief and then makes his escape. CHAPTER XXII. I Uncover Captain Grant. The thicket was sufficiently dense to conceal us from the man, who re mained standing at the foot of the pteps. He was but a mere dark shad ow, and I could not even distinguish that he was a Eoldier, yet the danger of his presence was sufficiently great, for should he advance to the right he would come upon Grant’s unconscious form, and in that silence the slightest noise might arouse suspicion. Mistress Claire still clung to my hand, but only to whisper a sentence of instruction. “Go straight north, major, until you reach the hedge; follow the shadow of that beyond the orchard, and then take the road running westward. Don’t mount until you reach there— goodby.” “Goodby, you will not forget me?’’ “I—l am afraid not, but—but you must go!” I left her standing there, a faint gleam of white against the dark shrub bery, motionless. There is no incident of that night’s ride which I recall distinctly. I mere ly pushed on steadily through the darkness, leaving my mount to choose his own course, confident we were headed toward the river. I was suf ficiently acquainted with the valley of the Delaware, when daylight came, to decide upon the nearest ford. As to the British patrols, I must run the risk of dodging these, but felt safe from such an encounter for several hours. In truth I met no one, having no occa sion to even draw rein, although we passed through two small villages, and by a number of farms. I could not even determine that these houses were occupied; they were dark and silent, even the galloping hoofs of my horse failing to awaken response. It was already daylight when I drew up on the bluff summit to gaze down into the river valley. In the middle distance small villages faced each other across the stream, and toward these most of the roads converged— proof of the existence of a ford. I could not be mistaken as to the town —Burlington on the Jersey shore, and opposite Bristol. I should be safe enough in the latter, even if we had po outpost stationed there. I knew homes along those shaded streets, (where food would be forthcoming, and i Read the Lines Almost at a Glance and Suddenly Realized the Base Villainy Revealed. where I could probably procure a fresh horse. It was the nearer town, nestled on tho Jersey bank, that I studied *with the greatest care, but, so far ns J could see, the single street was de serted. To the south, certainly two miles away, a squadron of horse were riding slowly, surrounded by a cloud of dust. Without doubt this was tho British patrol that had left the village at daybreak. It was a hot, close morning, and the padded Hanger’s coat heavy and tight fitting. I took it off. Hinging it across tho saddle pommel. As I did so a folded paper came into view, and I drew it forth, curiously. My eye caught the signature at the bottom of a brief note, and 1 stared at it in surprise. Fagin! How came Fagin to be writing to Captain Grant? He pretended to be a Tory to be sure, yet both armies knew him as a murderous outlaw, plundering loyalists and patriots alike. There came to me a memory of Far irU’H chance remark that Grant had me connection with this fellow’s ma- MY LADY of DOUBT BY RANDALL PARRISH Author of "Love UNder Fire" "My Lady of the North."etc Jlluslratiom tg/ HENRY TlflEDE COmaeHT a CO. 1911 raudlng. I had not seriously consid ered it then, but now—why, possibly it was true. I read the lines almost at a glance, scarcely comprehending at first, and then suddenly realised the base villainy revealed: “Have the money and papers, but the girl got away. Will wait for you at Lone Tree tonight. Don’t fail, for the whole country will be after me as soon as the news gets out about Elmhurst. FAGIN.” So that was the reason for this raid —Grant’s personal affair. He had re turned to Elmhurst, leaving his men to trudge on into Philadelphia under their Hessian offloera so that he might communicate with Fagin. What a pity it was I had failed to kill the fellow. Instead of leaving him unconscious The papers! Perhaps they were in the coat also. Surely Grant had no time to change or destroy them, as he must have ridden directly to Elmhurst. I searched the pockets of the garment hastily, finding a note or two, his orders to escort Delavan, and a small packet tied securely by a cord. I felt no hesitancy in opening this, and as certaining its contents. The lines I read hastily seemed to blur before my eyeß; I could barely comprehend their purport. Little by little I grasped the meaning of it all, and then my mind leaped to recognition of Grant's pur pose. They were notes of instruction, brief orders, suggestions, memoranda, such as might be issued to a secret agent greatly trusted. These were ad dressed simply “Mortimer,” many un signed, others marked by initials, but I Instantly recognized the handwriting of Washington, Hamilton and Lee. Without question this packet was the property of Eric Mortimer, but why had the boy preserved these private instructions, covering months of op erations, I should judge, although scarcely one was dated? And what caused them to be of value to Cap tain Grant? The answer came in a flash of suspi cion—the colonel. He could be threat ened with them, blackmailed, dis graced before Sir Henry Clinton, driv en from his command. They were ad dressed merely to “Mortimer,” discov ered at Elmhurst, and were sufficient to convict of treason. It was a fiend ish plot, well conceived, and Grant was fully capable of carrying it out to the end. 1 could realize what the possession of these papers meant to him—military advancement, a distri bution of the Mortimer estate in which he would doubtless share, and a fresh hold on Claire whereby he could ter rify the girl into accepting them. I stood there In uncertainty, turning these papers over and over in my hands, striving to determine my duty. Should I return to Elmhurst? To do so would only bring me Into renewed peril, and would apparently benefit no one. Without this packet Grant was helpless to injure Colonel Mortimer. As to Claire, Seldon would protect her for the present, and as soon as the father returned, he would doubtless compel her to accompany him back to Philadelphia. The best service I could render was to destroy these notes, and then seek out Eric Mortimer, In Lee’s camp, and tell him the whole story. All that anyone could do now was to warn tho Mortimers against Grant, to let them know his treachery, and this could be best accomplished through Eric. Although in different armies, striving against each other In the field, there must still exist some means of communication between father and son, or, if not, then between brother and sister. With flint and steel I built a small fire of leaves in a cleft beside the road, and fed to the flames one by one the papers from the packet, glancing over each one again to make sure of its contents; all were addressed alike, simply “Mortimer,” but upon two 1 found the word “Elmhurst.” It was easy to see how the discovery of such communications would tempt an un scrupulous scoundrel like Grant to use them to Injure another, and win his own end, but why had that young Eric failed to destroy them as soon as re ceived? When the last paper had been re duced to ashes, I stamped out the em bers of fire under my boot heel, and, with lighter heart, rode down the hill toward the ford. CHAPTER XXIII. Between Love and Duty. It was already growing dusk when I rode into our lines at Valley Forge A brief interview with .Colonel Hamil ton revealed his appreciation of my work, and that my hastily made notes of the Philadelphia defenses had been received twenty-four hours earlier. They had been delivered at headquar ters by an officer of Lee’s staff; no, not a boyish-looking fellow, but a black-bearded captain whose name had been forgotten. All Hamilton could remember was that the notes had been originally brought in by an Indian scout. Eager to discover Eric Morti mer, I asked a week's release from duty, but there was so much sickness in the camp, that this request was re fused, and I was ordered to my regi ment. Busy days and nights of fatigue fol lowed. Washington, watching like a hawk every movement of Sir Henry Clinton in Philadelphia, convinced by every report received that he was about to evacuate the city, bent all his energies toward placing his little army In fit condition for battle. Some recrultß were received, the neighbor ing militia were drawn upon, and men were taken from the hospitals, and put back into the ranks us soon as strong enough to bear arms. Inspired by the indomitable spirit of our com mander, the line officers worked inces santly in the welding together of their commands. I scarcely knew what sleep was, yet the importance of the coming movement of troops liel<l me steadfast to duty. Word came to us early in June that Count d’Estalng, with a powerful French fleet, was ap proaching the coast. This surely meant that Clinton would be com pelled to retreat across the Jerseys, and a portion of our troops were ad vanced so as to be within easy strik ing distance of the city the moment the evacuation took place. The re maining commands pressed farther north, near convenient crossings of the Delaware, prepared for a forced march across the British line of re treat. Maxwell’s brigade, with which I was connected, even crossed the river In advance, co-operating with General Dickinson and his New Jersey militia. All was excitement, commo tion, apparently disorder, yet even amid that turmoil of approaching bat tle, Hamilton recalled my request, and granted me two days’ leave. His brief note reached me at Coryell’s Ferry, and, an hour later, I was riding swiftly across the country to where Lee had headquarters. Not once during all those days and nights had the memdry of Claire left me. Over and over In my mind I had reviewed all that had ever occurred between us, striving in vain to guess the riddle. Now I would see and talk with her brother, and perhaps obtain the explanation needed. Yet I have gone into battle with less trepidation than when I rode into Lee’s headquar ters, and asked his chief-of-staff for Eric Mortimer. He looked at me strangely, as I put the question. “I should be very glad to oblige you. Major Lawrence,” he replied gravely, "but unfortunately I have no present knowledge of the young man.’’ “But he was attached to General Lee’s staff?” “Only in a way—he was useful to us as a scout because of his Intimate knowledge of the Jerseys. His home, I understand, was near Mount Holly.” “What has become of him?" “All 1 know is, he was sent out on a special mission, by Washington’s own orders, nearly a month ago. We have not directly heard from him since. An Indian brought a partial re port of ills operations up to that time; since then wo have received nothing.” “An Indian” I exclaimed. “The same who brouglx in my notes?” “I believe so; yes, now that I recall the matter. I had no opportunity to question the follow; he simply left the papers with the orderly, and disap peared.” “And you have heard nothing from young Mortimer since?” “Not a word.” “He must be dead, or a prisoner.” The chief smiled rather grimly. “Or deserted,” he added sharply. “I am more inclined toward that theory. He was a reckless young devil, attract ed to our service more, it seemed to me, by a spirit of dare-deviltry than patriotism. Lee thought well of him, but I was always suspicious. He be longed to a family of loyalists, his fa ther a colonel of Queen’s Rangers. Did you know him, Law’rence?” “The father, not the son. But I am not willing to believe evil of the boy. I cannot conceive that treachery is in the Mortimer blood, sir, and shall have to be convinced before I condemn the lad. When did he leave here last?” “About the middle of May.” "Would you mind telling me his mis sion? Where he was sent?” The officer glanced keenly into my face; then ran hastily over a package of papers taken from an open trunk. “I can see no harm in doing so now, major. He was sent to communicate with a British officer—a prominent Tory—who has associations with ‘Red’ Fagin, and others in MonnSouth coun ty. This officer has in the past, for a consideration, furnished us with valu able Information, generally through young Mortimer, who knew him. He had written us that he had more to sell.” “Where were they to meet?” “At a rendezvous known as the Lone Tree, not far from Medford.” “Was the Tory officer named Grant?” He stared at me in surprise. "I am not at liberty to answer.” "Oh, very well; however, I under stand the situation even better than you do probably. Only I advise you one thing—don't condemn that boy un til you learn the truth. Grant is an unmitigated, cold-blooded scoundrel, and the treachery is his. You’ll learn that, if you wait long enough. Morti mer Is either dead, or in Fagin’s hands. Good night.” I passed out, and was beyond the guard, before he could call me, even had he desired to do so. I had no wish to talk with him longer. I felt disappointed, sick at heart, and real ized this staff officer was strongly prejudiced against young Mortimer. It seemed to me I saw a little light, al though not much. Eric had been at Elmhurst, and Claire was not innocent of his presence in that neighborhood. She was shielding him, and it was through her help that his first report to Lee had been sent back by (he In dian. Then Eric must have been in the house while I was there. Indeed it must have been Eric who made me prisoner. And to protect him she had told mo a deliberate falsehood. As I rode back through tho night, finding a path almost by instinct through the maze of military encamp ments, I thought of all these things, exonerating her from wrong, and yet wondering more and more at her real connection with the various events. The chief had not stated what infor mation of value Grant had promised to reveal; nor what Eric’s first report had contained. In my sudden disap pointment I had forgotten to inquire. And where could the boy be? What could have happened to him? Some thing serlouß surely to keep him thus hidden for nearly a month. Claire would know, but she was probably long ago back in Philadelphia in the heart of the British garrison. And I? Well, I was tied hand and foot by dis cipline; helpless to turn aside from duty now in the face of this new cam paign. Every man was needed, and no personal consideration would ex cuse my leaving the ranks even for a day. It was with heavy heart I rode into the camp of my regiment, and lay down on the bare ground, with head pillowed upon the saddle, knowing the drums would sound in a few short hours. It was hard to work through the routine of the next few days, although, some excitement was given us of Maxwell’s brigade by scouting details sent across the valley to observe the movements of the British patrols. X)n such duty I passed the greater portion of two days in the saddle, and, by chance, met both Farrell and Duval, who were with the Jersey militiamen, now rapidly coming in to aid us, as the rumors of an impending battle spread across country. Farrell came at the head of fifty men, rough look ing, raggedly dressed fellows, but well armed, and I had a word with him while polntl; g out w'here Dickinson’s troops were camped. Unfortunately he knew little of value to me. Mor timer’s column of Queen’s Rangers had passed his place on their returr to Philadelphia two days after my ea cape. Grant was not with them, but Claire was, while Peter bad been left behind at Elmhurst. Fagin had not been overtaken, although the Rangers had engaged In a skirmish with some of his followers, losing two men. Colonel Mortimer had been wounded slightly. As to Eric he knew nothing —no one had even mentioned the lad’s name. It was thus clearly evident I could do nothing/ although I now possessed a well defined theory of just what had occurred. To my mind Eric was In the hands of Fagin, either hidden se curely away among the sand caves for some purpose connected with Grant’s treachery, or else with the intention of claiming the reward for his capture offered by Howe. The former prob- Farrell Came at the Head of Fifty Men, Well Armed, and I Had a Word With Him. ably seemed most likely in view of Grant’s failure to return to Philadel phia with Colonel Mortimer, yet there was no reason why the conspirators should not wreak vengeance, and win the reward also. But did Claire know, or suspect the predicament of her brother? If she did, then she was seekisg to conceal the truth from her father, but would never remain long Inactive in the city. I knew the girl’s real spirit too well to believe Man and the Mammoth The skeleton of a mammoth discov ered in the department of Pas de Ca lais. France, measures feet in length. Tho head Is well preserved, with finely enameled molars of the true Siberian type, thus furnishing one more proof that the whole country was once a land of Ice ar.d snow. At a din ner given recently on a sand-bar in the Danube an attempt was made to con vey an idea of the food consumed by man in the time of the mammoth. Cab bage soup cooked over hot stones, horse ham, roast pork with boiled millet, and turnips cooked In hot ashes composed tho bill of fare. The dessert was dried pears and honey.—Harper’s Weekly. Sounds Like Good Logic. Recently, several educators came to tho conclusion, after a lot of argument and discussion, that it is useless to teach girls higher mathematics and logic and that the time should be de voted to giving the girls a mor’e prac tical training that will fit them to be housewives and mothers. It is much better, say the educators, to teach she would fall for long in learning the boy's fate. CHAPTER XXIV. Forcing Clinton to Battle. I waß left behind at Coryell’s Ferry, for ther purpose of hastening forward any supplementary orders from Wash* ington, when Maxwell, and the Jersey militiamen, pressed forward in an ef fort to retard the march of the enemy. From the reports of scouts we began to understand what was occurring. Before dawn on the eighteenth of June the British army began leaving tbs city, crossing the Delaware at Glouces ter point, and by evening the motley host, comprising Regulars, Hessians, Loyalists, and a swarm of camp fol lowers, were halted near Haddenfield, five miles southeast of Camden. The moment this knowledge reached Washington, he acted. In spite of op position from some of his leading offi cers, his own purpose remained stead fact, and every preparation had al ready been carefully made for ener getic pursuit. Our troops fit for serv ice numbered less than five thousand men, many of these hastily gathered militia, some of whom had never been under fire, but the warmth and com fort of the summer time, together with the good news from France, had inspired all with fresh courage. What ever of dissension existed was only among the coterie of general officers, the men in the ranks being eager for battle, even though the odds were strong against us. There was no de lay, no hitch In the promptness of ad vance The department of the Quar termaster-General had every plan worked out In detail, and, within two days, the entire army had crossed the river, and pushed forward to within a few miles of Trenton. Morgan, with six hundred men, was burned forward to the reinforcement of Maxwell, and. relieved from my duties at the ferry, I was permitted to Join his column. (TO DE CONTINUED.) By Camel Across the Sahara. N. lo More, a Frenchman, 24 years old. has Just completed a Journey by camel across the Sahara from Al- giers to Timbuctoo, In the French Soudan. His object was to mark out the route for a proposed aeroplane flight avross the desert He was away from civilization for 13 months, and covered more than 5.000 miles. At Ain Salah, which was reached after 13 days, the traveler met another Frenchman .and his wife, living In the lonely district After that the caravan went for 29 days without meeting another human being. cooking, housekeeping and nursing. So far as logic is concerned, the edu cators point out that the minds of young women can be disciplined just as much, if not more so, by putting them through rigorous courses in what will be of practical benefit to them in life. It further is argued that mathematics and such studies do not help a woman to be a better com panion to her husband, for he uses those things only in his business,-and a woman rather should study things that can bo of help to him ir his hours of relaxation. Emotions and the Senses. Pleasurable sensations arouse pleas ant emotions. The sunshine Is always enlivening to some people, and the gloom always depressing*— men have despaired in darkness and taken their lives because of an oppression duo to 4he dark. We can to a degree choose what our sensations shall be. and so to some extent determine our emo tions, but tho mere gratification of sense is nearly always followed by de pressing emotions. The Suitors of Mrs. Merriwid MELISSA WILL NOT BE SCORCHED BY A BUNNY DISPOSITION. Mr*. Merriwid came into the room where her maternal maiden aunt Jane waa Industriously tatting, and her head was drooping and her step weary. She passed her hand across her half-closed eyes and sank into the easiest chair, with a deep drawn sigh. "What’s -the matter now?" asked Aunt Jane. "A touch o’ sun, a touch o’ sun," re plied Mrs. Merriwid, faintly. "Mr. Gladden has been beaming on me for the last three-quarters of an hour and there wasn't a shady spot In the room. He’s the most refulgent person I ever did see, but basking In his rays for more than a half hour gives me pro nounced pangs of anguish. Would you mind having the blinds down, dearie? And I’d like to have Hilda toll an Imitation of a passing bell on the lowest cup of the gong, If she Isn’t too busy. Let’s talk of graves and worms and epitaphs. Would you rath er be buried or cremated?" "How absurd you are, Melissa," Aunt Jane reproved. “That’s the kind of conversation I want," said Mrs. Merriwid. “Go on, dearie." "I won’t do anything of the sort," said the elder lady. "Some of these days you’ll be sorry you ever said such things.” "I hope so," replied Mrs. Merriwid, meekly. "I trust there are Badder days in store. You’re doing nicely. “I Could See Him Making Light of All My Troubles." But, honest, auntie dear, do you like ’em as cheerful as Mr. Gladden?" "Of course I do," Aunt Jane an swered. "A person can’t be too cheer ful." "I disagree with you," said Mrs. Merriwid, emphatically. "I think Mr. Gladden is. Of course, being a pro moter, he’s got to be more or less sanguine and encouraging but, In my opinion, be runs It about sixteen hundred feet into the ground. I’m not a prospective investor, whatever he may think, and I refuse to believe that everything happens for the best. I want to have a presentiment that the worst is yet to come, once in a while. If I wanted to take a perpetually rose colored view of existence, I’d wear pink goggles. Imagine that man as a husband!” "I hardly think that is a proper thing for a lady to do," Aunt Jane opined. "Fudge!" said her niece. "As if a lady would do anything else! He’d be everlastingly galumphing in and exasperating you with his idiotic opti mism. no matter what happened. If the cook left at tho most inconvenient time, he’d tell you to cheer up because It would be all the same in a hundred years and that there were just ns good fish in the sea as ever caine out of It. and that care killed a cat and away boys with melancholy and that sort of piffle. If the laundress ruined your very best waist, he’d grin and say that there was no use crying over spilled milk and that every cloud has a silver lining and in trouble to be troubled is to have your trouble dou bled." “I’m sure I think that’s a very sen sible way to look at things," observed Aunt Jane. "Fretting over a thing never helped it yet, and it’s always better to be hopeful and look nt the bright side." "Suppose it hasn’t any bright side," argued Mrs. Merriwid. "Suppose It’s a slab of soft coal. And what a wom an wants in a husband is sympathy. If she’s lying down with a sick head ache. she doesn’t want him to jolly her up and tell her she just imagines the ache part. And if he can’t come across with the price of a new hat once in a while, it Isn’t nny satisfac tion to her to bo told she’ll be sport ing diamond tiaras by next fall on the strength of his scheme to establish aerial road houses for the flying ma chine trade. You give Mr. Gladden a patent clothes pin and the population of the United States at the last cen .bus and he’ll begin to imagine he’s .got a fortune beyond the dreams of avarice and nearly up to Morgan’s, and his wife will find that it begins to wear on her in time, like her last year’s dresses.” "It’s the optimists that do things," said Aunt Jane. "I know,” agreed her niece. "Hope springs eternal and it’s darkest Just before dawn and the longest lane must have a turning. It’s likewise an ill wind that blows nobody good; but you can’t make me believe that a bad egg is going to Improve in course of time anil be good, or that it won’t BY KENNETT HARRIS cloud up and rain some day when I am wearing my best hat. And If I lose my purse with twenty dollars’ worth of money In it, I don’t confi dently expect to have it returned to mo Intact within twenty-four hours; furthermore, I won’t dismiss the mat ter from my mind with a gay laugh. I’m not a pessimist, at that. I know one jovial, hearty, smiling, haw-haw lng optimist that I’d like to see with & raging toothache, anyway, and the last part of that sunny-tempered vis ionary’s name is Gladden." Mrs. Merriwid spoke with such un usual petulance that Aunt Jane look ed at her In surprise. Then Mtb. Mer riwid laughed. "The wretch proposed," she said. "You don’t meant to tell me!" ex claimed Aunt Jane. "I didn’t mean to," said Mrs. Mer riwid, "but I suppose I might as well. Yes, he wanted me to marry him and he couldn’t sec anything ahead of us but ineffable bliss. I could see quite a number of things. I could see him making light of all my troubles even if he didn't magnify his own, which your cheery optimist has away of doing, dearie. It's the easiest thing In the world to be philosophical over a broken leg when it’s the other r,i low’s, and it's cheaper to encourage your forlorn ani disconsolate brother man with a few words of cheer than It Is to lend him money. Well, I didn’t mention all this. I merely told him that It could never, never be. "‘Well,’ he said, cheerfully, T cer- tainly hoped that it could, but of course if it can’t. I’ll have to make the best of It. Maybe it’s just as well after all.’ "If you expect me to like optimists as far gone as that, you’re going to be disappointed,” concluded Mrs. Merri wid. (Copyright. 1912, by W. G. ChapmanJ Depth of Meanness. Little Jonas was the son of penuri ous parents, and the son bade fulr to outdo them in frugality—a fact that worked extreme hardship upon Bobby Graves, his seatmate. Bobby came home one night looking so depressed that his mother asked the cause of his trouble. “It's that Jone Peterbo!" burst out Bobby. "He's just about the meanest thing! He eats my apples all up, and ho never gives me even a'bite often his, an’ my apples are good an’ his ain’t —very! An’ today he made mo do his ’rlthmetic zamples, ’cause he didn’t know how, an’ he wouldn’t even lend me his pencil to do ’em with!"— Youth’s Companion. Happy Burmese. The Burmese are the most light hearted and care free people in all the world, and the sound of merry laughter fills ull this happy land. At heart the Burman is. first of all, a gentleman, and though ho Is the proudest mortal in the world, ho is unaffected, sincere and as simple as a little child, and is. moreover, remark ably free from the vices of other oriental races. The Burman may be indolent, careless and pleasure lov ing to a fault, but he is always kind ly. and what he lacks in ambition and industry is more than supplied by the energy and cleverness of his wonder fully capable women. Power to Do Good. The Increment that comes to any humnn faculty through use is the sweetest of all satisfactions to bo got out of work —sweeter than material rewards, sweeter than the praise of one’s fellows, sweeter than purchased ease. To feel that one is steadily growing in one’s power to do good there is deeper gladness in that, to an earnest soul, than in almost any thing else this world affords. —Pun- sliion. Her Faith Lost. A little 'Boston girl was coaxed to own to her aunt that she had done something which she ought not. and which she stoutly denied. Finally, such undeniable proof of her guilt was put up before her that she could no longer keep her denial. She turn ed to her aunty, and said: "Well, Aunt Kittle, you tan’t trust anybody, now adays!” The People Supreme. I repeat that all power Is a trust; that we are accountable for Us exer cise; that from tho people and for tho people ull springs and all must exist. —Benjamin Disraeli.