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owed to Halltex. The hftOduck'H ftiet are on thy abore, Canada, my Canada ; Tha halibut H at my door, Canada, uiy Canada. Kor Bmtttt aud »ju li;unn, chub aud otl, ForoodQtb. bake and tnackarerl, ArlM and moot the Yankee Btoal, CaDada, my Canada. Thoa wilt not cow*ir in the briuo, Can«da. my Canada; Thou wilt not <)ro)i thy tltthiuh' line, Cftna^la. my t'anada ; Defend ttiy Hculpiii, Have thv skate, Htriku for thy ahad with soul clato. Don't •w<Mir, ntid ttpit iinoo thy bait, Oauailn, my C&naaa. Dual cotitlv with fi borriuK ract;, Oaiiaaa, my ('aimda ; iHt up yonr HwordtlHh in its placo, Canada, my Cuiiada ; If for roprisal yuu would huo, Just turn yuur othtT chookâ€" pleaso do, Aud tak» II ViiuktM; Hiuauk or two, Canada, my Caiia«la. â€"Jiurdette iJi Brooklyn Kagle. A COMPLEfE MISCNDEKSTANDING. Iiv M.iifi\iii:i ( ii.isbV. CHAPTJiR I. It was a rainy day in KuptambcT. Oa a narrow road, Hanked by tall pine- trees, in a remote p»rt of New Kngland, foar borsea dra^iied a lamberiog stu^e- ooach ap a steep bill. Oa the seat beside the driver sat au oM man, dressed in a baggy overouat and a battered felt bat. Ho had no umbrella, and his indilTorenoe to the weather was to be inferred from the tact that be choHe an outside seat in pre. ferenoe to the many empty ones inside the stage. Ho was talkiD|{ to the driver with the BQstaiuud monotony of one wboisaeouro from interruption. " Well, aa I was sayin," he said, " Deacon Bliss, bo says to mu, you got to cat iUmento mori on them gateposts, and that'H all there is about it. You can cat your own name somewhere, with ItuiLUr under it, too, if you want to ; but it stands to reason that liemento mori oui^hter go on the gate of a bary-in'-Kronnd." Ho paused a mo- ment, and then oontinaed, with a latent twinkle in hia faded, Jiiudly eyes : " I <Ud out Memfnto mori on one of them gate-posts, and I out Uu/.ekiah Hanford in letters the â- tme size on the other, ao there's my monu- ment fur all time, fur that wall ain't ever oomin' down, and Duauon Ulias couldn't say a word. The noil day as I wan goin' down â€" " At this janoture the driver's lips parted and emitted a short, sharp lan^h. Thisg tribute to hia ahrowdnesawasso unexpected that the old man pauaed and turned to him with a furtive look of 'juestioning. " You've uni to the atune wall to soon, Bqaire Hanford ; wu ain't past Three. mile Corner, and you won't havo enough to last till you get home," sail the driver. The old man relapsed into an offended Hilenoe. After a moment's pause the driver said, with a jerk of hia thumb toward the inside of the stage : " Who are tl'i folks yer goin' tor have to yer house, Siiuhu?" The old man (uruedover in hia mind the feasibility of showing the annoyance that he felt at the interruption of bis story; but on the consideration that Bam Hunter was too good a listener to bo lost, he ans- wered - " One of 'em's ('olonel ilrannan, and the other's hia brother. The young one's pretty aiokâ€" oonuiiinption, or somethin' like it, I reckon, and the colonel's brignin' him here fur a change of air. As I aaya to the colonel, this air will cure him if any- thin' will. Why, my brother James's wifo â€" I'll tell you about her. Bam ?" Uuntor smiletl grimly. "That atory'll last till you get home," ho declared. Thii two inside passengers were not even occupying tliemsolves by talking to each other, but were <»jtially silent. Une was a man about 40 years old, tall, and strongly built. Un sat somewhat stilly forward on the edge of the seat, hia atitude and expression statuesiiuely (juiet. There was mni:h that inspirud cootidence in the direct simplicity of his glance, shaded by a alouohed felt hat, and some- thing martial in the unconscious eroctness of his bearing. liesido him sat, or half-lay, a yonngman, enveloped to the throat in a heavy, loose ulster of yellowish cloth. The blonde etTect of hia fair hair and alight mustache was heightened by hia excessive palor. His eyes were olosod, and hiu dark laahoa alone saved hia face from being absolutely oalorless. The uh^arly cut featurea were handsome, and the whole face was chnraoteri/tirl by extreme aensitivimess. His long, wliitu hands the hands of an invalid â€" rested liatlrssly nn the leaves of a sketoh-book that lay on hia knees. Over the shoulder nean^at the open window was thrown a heavy travulling-rug, which, cati. etantly displaood by the jolting of the stage, slipped to the lluor. Each time that it did so the older man leaned across, and lifting the rug, rearranged it viith awkward tender- ness. A muttered "Thank you!" waa the only audible noticn that hia action received, but the youth'a level browa mot each time in a quick frown of irritation. At length when this had uucurrod several times ha opened hia oyea. " That will do, Diok. I'm very much obliged, but I'm >|iiitu warm enough with- out it. How much longer arc we to bo in this hideoua machine?" " Juat beyond the topof the hill, I think," was the anawi.'r, spoken in a strong, un- modulated voiiie. Then, as if glad to avuil himself of the opportunity to speak, he asked, nnxioualy : " How do yon feel now, Julian'? Any hutter than whe^ we started? It's a poor day, but tlie air's far more bracing than that cIoh') city." Ha inhaled a long breath of the frAgraiit piney air. "I couldn't have breathed in that placo another day. No wonder you're sick. I toll you, Julian, a week on the plains would make a difTarent follow of you I Kven this place we're going to will do you good." " I Buppoaa HO." " I'm sure of it, my boy. You've spent too much time in that studio ; yon haven't lived au activi' life. A few weeks here will set you up, and then we'll try cainpingont. It'UbejUHt the thing for that cough of yours. Nothing like aUuping in the open air for caring a ootd." The yonny man shivorod nnoasily. " Can't I do anything to make yon more comfortable?" continued the oliler man There was only a ahaku of the head in reply •Then I think I'll goon " top for awhile, and perbapa you'll get some sleep." _. „ , j,.._ , Ue leaned out of the window ; the aommit ' of ths Uower-like f reshnebi ot her baanty, of the hill bad been reached and the thin- ning of thj pine-trees showed the rolling country, with wooded bills, glorioos with autamn tints of gold and dan and flaming crimson. The rain had stopped falling, and the dull gray of the aky was broken by patches of deep blue. Before there was time to hail the driver ths stage stopped at the gate of a farm-houae which stood some ten yards back from the road. It was one of thoue long, low hoaaes which do not seem to be built on theground, but to grow out of it, clinging lovingly aa close as posaible to the earth. Two large elms overshadowed it, and to the right there was an applo- orohard, with a distant view beyond of meadow ond woodland, and silver gleam of a largo sheet of water. Close to the house, on the other side, were straggling barns and oothooaea. The two men clambered down from their high seats. Hunter went to the back of the stage and began silently lifting down down the luggage ; Sanford walked up the irregular flag, atones, which lay on the graaa in front of the house, forming a path to the door, whilu Colonel Urennan openud the do3r of the stage. "Julian," he atiii, "here we are, my boy I" The young man lay with hia eyoa closed, but when hia brother apoke he opened them with a dazed expresaion. He got out, but staggered slightly as be tried to walk up the path. Uis brother supported him, and as they reached the door Sanford came out, followed by an old woman, dreased in a dark calico gown and abort white jacket. She led the way to a room on the right of a little hall, talking rapidly all the time. "Obâ€" now- jest to think of my not bein ready for you ! Wliy, I didn't a'pose the stage 'nd be along for a half-hoar yet ! But I know you'll excuse my jacket. Now the young man (2o<f< look sick, don't bo? But you see if this ain't the best placeâ€"" Her How of words was interrupted by an exclamation from Colonel Brennan. " Julian I What's the matter ?" The da/.ed look in the youth's eyes deep- ened, hia pallor boosaio deathly, lind sway- ing alightly for an instant he toppled over on the tloor in a dead faint. Mra. Hanford contemplated him for a mo- ment, in silent amazement. " Otl, the awful ! the dreadful I what under the canopy!" alio gaaped: then throw- ing hor apron over her face she rushed from the room, calling: " Winifred Amnnda Sanford- do yoa come (iown-staira thia minute I The young gentleman's layin' dead on the tloor, and I'm uure I dunuo what to do !" Culonel Brennan knelt down by Julian and supporting hia head, his eyea lixed on tlie white face in an agony o( apprehen- sion "Go and get aonie water," he said to Banford ; " bo ijuiuk about it !" There waa a sound of haaty footsteps on the ataira, the rustle of a dress, and a tall young woman entered the door. Bhe carried a glass of water in her hand, and cruastng the room knell down by the young man and began to bathe hia forehead with a handkerchief which ehe dipped into the water. " Fan him, please!" she said to Colonel Brennan; " there'a fan on the mantle- uhelf." During tlfteeu years of a roagli Weatern life Colonel Brennan had been almost nnconaoious of the peraonality ot the few women he had come in contact with ; yet at thia moment there pieroed through hia anxiety a sense of the extreme composure of her manner, lie obeyed blindly. It seemed a long time before Julian's eyes upened. Wbeu they did, he aoarcely knew where he wax. liendiug over him he saw a beautiful face -calm â€" serene â€" pity- ing. No; "goidenaos do not pity," he vaguely thought. " Where am 1?" The face hovered a moment before hia waver- ing eyea, and then melted away. " .lulian !" aaid hia brother's voice, plead- ingly. " Look here, my dear fellow, how do you feel? Are you bettor ?" The familiar tone broke through the net-work of dreains in which he uwmed to float. With the full liile of ruturniu^t aoiouxneaa cainu a fueling of impatiuuou at hia Weakness ; he raised himself to a sitting position. "Why, yes," he said, "I'm all right. That's very odd, that aensatiou. I never had it before." He attempted to riae, and with Colonel Brennau'a asuiatanoe he stood on his feet. " I think I'll sit down," he said; "I'm rather dizzy yet." lie dropped into a uliair that stood near him, and looked arounri, as if more fully to take in hia aur. roundings. It waa a amall room with a low oeilling; two aidea were of wood painted dark red, aa was tlie high mantle and open llreplaoe. Above the mantle were little oupboartls with braaa knobs on the doors, that re- ininiiod one ooriously of the lookers in the cabin of a ship. .V brilliantly tlowered paper covered the two remaining aidea of the room. The furniture waa of the moat aiiti,|uo iiattorn, aud extremely shabby. Kiddlebaoked chairs, and long, uncoinfort- ablu wooden settea were arranged against the walla. The only niodorii thinga in the room wore u new, aliinning nvelodeon and a large rookingohair, covered with blaok haircloth. Near the door stood Sanford and hia wife. The old woman came for- ward with an air of mingled fright and im- portance. " Well," she aaid, "that's too bad. For the land's sake I I waa real scared wliun you went off like that. Don't you think ho'd heat go to his room and rest a bit, and and I'll Bund his supper up to him? There, now, if 1 didn't forgot about them cakes!" she e.\cUinu<d. "Where's Winifred, Mr. Banford? Kho'll take you np to yonr rooma, and I Know yini'll joat exoiiHO nio I" Bhe left llio room hurriedly, as she spoko, followed by her husbanii. Julian turned toColunel Brennan with a slightly pu/./.ted air. " Wasn't there â€" wot there aomsono elaa here a minute ago ?" he aaked. Before his brother oonld reply Banford returned with his daughter. Bhe stood in the doorway speaking to her father a mo- ment, apparently unnonscioua of the intent scrutiny that Julian was giving her. Bhe waa unusnally tall, and ther was a genor. oua sweep in the lines of her fignre. The setting ot her head and throat on her Bhoiihlora was fairly niajeatio, and her soft dark hair wound around the arched head, and growing low on her forehead, contras- ted with bar gray eyea and the fair bloom of her skin. Bhe might have heen, in apite twenty-eight or thirty ; there was nothing of the yonng girl about her. " I guess yon'd better go np and rest," said Banford, kindly. " I'm glad you're all square again. Winifred â€" this is my daughter Winifred â€" she'll show ye up- stairs." Winifred led the way, and Colonel Brennan followed, supporting Julian. The stairs were not wide enough for two people abreast, and the colonel fell behind. At the top of the stairs Julian wavered, and would have fallen again had it not been for the young woman, who turned qnickly and threw her strong arm around him. His brother waa at bis other side in an instant, and together they helped him to his room, and settled him in a large arm-chair. "Thank you I" he said warmly, to Winifred. " I should have fallen if it had not been for you." She did not notice his apeech. " I'm going down to get something for you to eat," ahe aaid, calmly. Her voice was clear and low. " Mother'U bring it np in a minute. Tea s ready, if Colonel Brennan will come down." She drew down the blind of a window where the sun shone in on Julian's face, and then turned to go, bat at the door she stopped, and with her head raised with stag- like eroctness, swept a barely imper- ceptible courtesy and left the room. Julian's eyes Hashed aa be looked after her. "Go down, Dick," he said; "I'll do very well here. It may be imagination, but I seem to feel better already I " There was a spark of animatioa in his manner as be said the words. Ho took bis pencil and sketch-book from his pocket, and began to draw rapidly. From the stairs came the sound of stamping and gasping, and the old farmer mada hia appearance in the doorway, ataggering under the weight of a heavy gun-oase. "Where's thia to go. Colonel? In yonr room on t'other side of the passage? What have you got in here anyhow, that's so mighty hefty?" " Hold on! " called the colonel, "I'll help you with those things, Banford. Julian, I'll be back after awhile." He followed Banford, and Julian still bent over hit •ketch in entire absorption, when ha was roused by a voice at his elbow. " Now, sir jest take a bite and see how much better you'll feel." Mra. Sanford stood before him, with a large tray, ou which waa a medley of eat- ables â€" coffee and boiled flah, a pumpkin- pie and a dish of green pickles. There was something in the scent of the cofTee and the home-like aspect of the blue-and-white cracked china that pleased and tempted Julian. " Why, Mrs. Banford," he said, "that looks uncommonly good." " Now you begin and eat that. You better try them pickles. Winifred made 'em, and she's a powerful hand at pickles. I do hope you'll like everything; it's the tlrst time we ever took boarders, bat we tried to tix things nice." Bhe set the tray table, and in doing so her eyea fell on the akotch. Bhe snatched it from Julian with the same abruptness that characterized all her actions. " Child of grace ! if that ain't Winifred I " Bomething in the idea seemed to tonch her sense of buinor. Bhe laughed immoderately, holding it at arm's length at tirat, and then putting on her spectaolea to examine it more olosely. " Now, ain't it nice to draw like that ; she i.< pretty as a picter, if I do say it." Bhe spoke in a tone of rambling meditativeness. " Folks aay it'd strange alio ain't married ; but, lor', she won't look at the young men 'round here. 1 danno why, but it's funny when there ain't one of them but baa asked her â€"and ahe so pretty! " Julian held out his hand for the sketch, coloring slightly as he did so. " You don't know what her beauty is," be murmured under hia breath. The old woman did not catch the words, hut the tone reached her ear. The foolish \aoanoy of her expression changed to a keen look of cariosity tor the space of a Buoond. " Well, I know folks do take on about her, and her pa sets an awful store by her." " Mra. Banford," said Banford, from the door, ile{ioaiting Julian's trnnk in the room, "supper's ready, and s'pose you comedown." Ue was in his shirtsleeves, and spoke with some irritation of manner. " Wliero did yon put my dnater?" be con- tinued, with a warning look. Uia wife looke<l depreoatingly at him. "Oh, Mr. Kauford, I jest bung it np in the atore-cloaet. I thought, perhaps, yon'd be agreeable to tryin' your blaok coat for a spoil in the house, now we got com- pany." "No, I won't Mrs. Banford; what would I have to wear to funerals, I'd like to know ? No; you get my dusterâ€" lively now! and don't you go fur to hang it up in thatstore- cloaet of your's again." They went down the hall, Sanford ex- postulating and his wife a[)ologizing, until their voices died away in the distance. The sunlight faded in the room where Julian aat. Ho had Unlshed his supper, and as the twilight grew he continued to touch up the little sketch of the haunting face he had juat seen, adding lines and shadows until the likeness, which had been striking at tlrst, was entirely destroyed. He tore the leaf out of the book, and crushed it impatiently in hia band. "There's no use trying to draw sach a face," ho thought, " when one baa only seen itonce. What lines in her head and brow? How do such people happen to have a daughter looking like a goddess? How ipiiet and calm she was 1 It's aoarcely human. 1 couldn't tell whether she waa eorry for me, or only i)uietly contemptaoua at my weakness." The evening wind blew in at the window chillingly ; with the son's departure all warmth had gone from the air. Julian wont to the window and drew it down. The room wore aa air of dreary melanoholy. The old four-post bed, with its white ourtaina, loomed strangely in the dim, gray light. At the side of the room the opening of the black-painted fire-plaoe yawnud like a oavuru. Borne dead leaves on the hearth executed a fantastic dance as the wind swept up and down the chimney. Before the window the branches of the trees waved incessantly. The damp air seemed to strike into tho young man's breast, and hia cough echoed with a hollow Bound. "Why did 1 come here?" he thought, half-hopelesely. On the threehold of thia chill and gloom thore appoarod a sudden vision. In the doorway stood Winifred Banford, holding above her head a lighted candle ; the down- ward light illaminated her face and figure, deepening and shadowing her eyea, tinging the bloom of her ofaeeka, outlining the oahn enrre of her lips. In her other hand she carried a basket of kindling- wood. "May I come in?" ahe asked, with a slight imile. " Mother thought it was get- ting colder out of doors, and you might like a fire." Brennan started to hia feet.! " Oh ! thank you, yon're very good," he stammered, confaaedly ; "I won't trouble you ; let me do it?" Bhe only looked at him in sarpriae. " I always make the tirea," ahe answered quietly, " and as you're sick you'd better keep quiet and rest." Something in her manner silenced Brennan. Half- unconsciously, partly from exhaustion, he sank back in bis chair and watched her as she knelt on the hearth, and setting the basket beside her, rapidly laid the kindling under tho logs that rested on the andirons. Bhe touched the shavings with the candle and the dames loapsd np the chimney. Hashing into the darkest corners of the room. The warm glow seemed to draw oat tlie rich woman- liness of the kneeling tigare, and to haman- ize Brennan's dreary tbougbts. " I beg yoar pardon," he aaid abruptly, -' but will you let me paint your portrait some day?" For the first time her composure varied. A deeper color came into her face, and she turned her head slowly toward him with an upward glance, in which there was the faintest semblance of co<iaetry. " Y'ee, if you want." "Has anyone evcrpainted yoa?" bo asked eagerly. " There never has been anyone to do it," she answered. Then I shall be the first." The thought seemed to give the young fallow deep plea- sure. " Have you always lived here? " Yes, always, except when I ran away to the convent." " Kan away," he repeated, " why did you doit? ' " I couldn't stay here always, and I never sec anything." " Bat what did yoa go forâ€" not to be a nan?" he hazarded " No," she said, smiling a little. " To study ; to get away from here. I was tired of it. I had a friend there, and she got me in ; bat father came and took me away when I'd been there three months. It waa a good while ago, and I haven't been away since; " she paused a minute, " we're poor, ' she added, simply. Bhe stood ap and leaned against the mantle, looking down at the young man. The lire-light dickered on her face aud on her violet print dress, tinging it with pink refiections. The folds of the soft material fell with the simplicity of sculpture. As if pleased with the rapt observation of the young man she stood motionless for a few minates, and then walked toward the door, sayingâ€" "I think I'll go now. Yoa'd better go to bed, Mr. Brenaen. It's easy to see that you're tired out." There was a note of protecting kindness in the aweet voice. Again the little courtesy, and the vision had diaappeared. Brennau was alone once more, bat the room was changed. There was the ruddy fire-light, the snapping, crackling pine logs, the warm, scented air, and whether hia eyes were opened or closed the mysterioua beauty they had first beheld floated before them. When his brother looked in on him, an hour later, he found him already in bed and asleep, and although ho coughed at fre<]aent intervals, be still slept, with a boyish smile on hia faoe. CHAPTEK II. Two weeks later, on an afternoon when there was a midsummer softnesa in the atmosphere, old Banford sat an the bench on one aide of the wide porch at tho farm- house. He was basily engaged in whittling a piece of wood with a large jack-knife, talking steadily aa he whittled. Colonel Brennan aat oppoaite to him, libicniiig with grave attention. Ilia heated face a.ul muddy clothes, as well as the gan that leaned against the seat beside him, showed that he had juat come in from a shooting- expedition. " Yes," said Banford, " I've wrote some sharp political satires in my day, and them also in poeiry. That's something that comes by uatur' and birth, and can' be trained into a man. I'll lend 'em to yer soma day, colonel, orâ€"" here bis face be- came more animated, "I'll recite 'em to yer if you like. There'a the battle of Bunker Hill, one of my historical poems. It waa read at the town-hall, at OreenfielJ, last Independence Day, I do aolemnly as- sure you, colonel. It begins â€" " ' A tear stoed on tbo tuatlivr'a brow. As from the wall youni; Henry Dew Tho wat-tube liltod dewu.' I could say it all, but p'raps you'd as lief read it. You kin judge of it better that way." " I'erbapa I can," the colonel anawered, courteoualy. "Then I've wrote also poems ot natut'. Natur'a an inspirin' aubject. Joat take a day like this â€" " He took off hia hat and let the air blow hia gray locks olt his withered forehead. " There's something ao pure and holy in the hall look of everythin' to-day that it's like goin' into a charch jest to go oat into the fields. Mra. Banford now, " here his eyoi. twinkled humorously, " ain't much on natur'. She looked out thia mornin', and saya she, 'It's a fine mornin' for bakin',' and then .sho went in-doora and she's b'on bakin' all day I " The colonel's attention seemed to be wandering. Uis eyea were fixed on the orchard, where, through the green brauchea, in the diatanoe, could be seen the gleam ot a woman's dress and the outline of a man's figure. The oooaaional aonnd of voioea was borne toward them by the breeze. Sanford noticed tho look. " You needn't fret about that brother f your'fl, (Jolonel," he aaid; " he's all rit;ht. Winifred's out thore, and he'a paintin' hor. That's the idea he took into hia head. She's a sensible girl, a mighty sensible girl, and she'll take as uood care of him aa if he waa her brother. How old is the boy ? " Colonel Brennen uiado a calculation. " Twenty-two," he aaid. " I didn't think he waa aa old," he added, half to himself. (To becoutumecl.i When tho Clrons Bewail, " What time did young Bampaon leave last night Clara ?" asked her papa. "It was after midnight," replied tho girl, with a haughty sneer; " we had a quarrel, and I bads him good-by forever." "If you quarreled, I wonder hedidn'tleavoearlier.'' "Wo didn't beginquarreling until nearly 10 o'clock." BII.I. HYS â-²OOBFT8, And Prepare* a letter Wkloh Maj be UseA With Frodt l>r Any eandldate. New York World. Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen of the Committee : I have just learned by the merest accident that I waa nominated some ten weeka ago aa a candidate for the Preai- dency at the regular National Convention. Being oat of town at the time, and oox local postmaster refusing to forward news- papers without the payment of additional postage, I did not know about it, thongh I remember of telling a man last spring that if nc other man in the party seemod really fitted to be its standard-bearer I would run. That was the end of it, so far aa I waa concerned. When I made the promise I had an idea that possibly a better man would be found somewhere, and in that way I woald be enabled to get out of it. Acting upon that s apposition, I have made other arrange- ments, which, ot coarae, I will now have to cancel. We had purchased and put in oar coals for the winter, and also agreed to board the teacher at our honae. 1 might name other plana wa had made for tha futnre which will now have to be entirely changed, but the above will show you that in going into thia thing 1 am making sacri- fices which are not generally taken into consideration daring the beat aud aacerbity of .1. political campaign. If sleeted I will favor a higher price tor the manofacturer and lower prices for the consumer. I believe in aubmitting the tariff quea- tion to a popular vote of thia country and Earope, after which I would reaerve the right to do what I thought beat about it. I have not yet decided whether I woald favor patting the beat men into office, or whether I woald let them remain where they are, in the newspaper businesa. I favor aome more things, but out of respect for the convention which nomi- nated me I shall not embody them in thia letter, but wait till I am elected and then jar the back teeth of those whose votes I now deaire but whose opiniona I despise. My latcb-itring will be oat during th« day, and I shall aim to keep open all night. On Sundays visiting statesmen will please enter at the aide of the hoase, and I shall aak one and all to please retrain from loud aud boisterous language in the hall as they go away, even though there should be annoying complications in identi- fying umberallaa left in the hall- rack and quida of tobacco left on the atair rail. Let each take such umbrella and tobacco as shall be allotted to him wiiboat repining, and thus elevate and ennoble tha ettiquette and tuut diuembU of our national political systemâ€" a system of which we are all ao juatly proud. I trust that one and all will feel free to come and bring their dinuera until Novem- ber, for after that I shall, if elected, admit oaly reapectable people, and very few of those. Prior to election I shall maintain a general social sink of iniquity, and I hope aud trust that the various moral tester* who claim that they knew me when I waa poor and when my wife did her own work, and who now claim that they made me what 1 am, will call early, refrain from tying their team to the oleander and turn off their breaths on retiring instead of trying to blow it out. Tho house will be open for visitors im- mediately after prayers and continae ao until breakfast time on the following day. Guests and friends are requested to pass in through the folding doors leading out of the front parlor, view the remains and then continue out through the dining.room, kitchen and barn. Memento pickets for making canes may be fonud in the bay-mow marked as {ol> Iowa : TAICE ONK. \ The apples on the large tree uear the well are cooking apples and uot good yet, any way. If elected, I shall favor intemperance only in the case of aiokueaa. My wife joins me in the kindest regard* to your committee and hopes you will always come to see ua when you are in town. We are only a tew miles from the station and you oau easily find our bouae if you will follow the crowd. We think some of having a pink tea at our house on Thur*- day, and we would both be glad to see the National Convention and friends here be- fore we take np the carpets. Yours truly, Bigu bereLa^ P. B. I accept the nomination with pleasure. m Fresh Froiu Vanity Fair. Nuns' veilings have a wido selvage and border and are made up very simply for afternoon costumes. The novelty in silken fabrics is the bordered urmur.,-. There were bordered woollens for spring wear and bordered cottons for sammer. Paisley borders are found on cashmeres for house dresses, and very protty effeote are produced with a saah carrying out the idea of color in the costume. Tinsel strips are seen on some soft woollens for street costumes. In dark shades of India twill and in light shade* for house wear these coatumea aro eqeally stylish. ' Another novelty iu bordered fabrioa is the hair stripe with a wide border of plain material. This makea up very charmingly for an autumn walking costume, and needa no trimmings whatsoever. The aelvago in some beautiful new woollen has its width extsnded to IJ to 2 inches by a silk woven stripe about it. Thia is the solo trimming on those simple coatumea, which have a pretty effect uot- withataiiding their simplicity. Hare and b:>autiful Eaatoru atul'fg have a background of cloth or gold, 'i'tiia at 315 or »'20 per yard forms the pottiooat in rich coatuniBS. Tha Eastern gauzes are nearly aa expenaive and equally fashionable. It takes but little to embellish a dress and make it ijuite gorgeoua. w I Some small Boston boys were giving a liutUlo Bill entertainment the other after- noon, and young Joe Gammon waa an Indian whose bueiness it waa to bo stabbed by the scout. To prepare tor the aot he had stuffed the breaat of bis jacket with newspapers, but the knife ot Buffalo BUI found a joint in tlio armor of the redskin and with a shriek of " Ow" tho child ot the toreat dropped to the ground. The wound waa aovero enough to warrant hospital treatment.â€" Wcio York Sun.