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LORD KILLEEN'S REVENGE CFIAPTKR VlII.-(C.nitinu?Kl.) Varley aodded. If he uaa sorry for the untimely wilheriiii; of tin' fruit of hin loreleati niurriajte. it was a sorrow of the very vag'ucst. " I t&w it to-day," went on Donna, still in a lower key. " It was in her armsâ€" she Be«nie<l to olin^ to it. Her «jes weni lar,^ as those of one who aeldoin sleeiw. She was so fierce in her dislielief of the child'a coming death that one knew how entirely she lie- lieved. She impressed me. somehow," "Why will you l^lk of herf" crie<l Varley, with sudden, vehement impat- ience. He i>ao«»d angrily up and down the exquisite room for a minute or two, trying to restrain his bitter remorse, and Chen flun; himself suddenly into a chair. " Is it tru« what Constautia says." â- aid Donna, dreaiuily ; " she is a saint. Perhaps to be a mother would make one feel like that I She received me very porfecvtly. I â€" were I in her placi . \ad bad .she rome to see me â€" I should have slapped her on the cheek. But she re- ceived me with a jjerfect gT:u:e. It waa wonderful. I wish "â€"she paused, look- ing slowly at Varley. and then let- tin,; her eyes drop to the little white, idle hands toying with her fanâ€"" I wish, as it was to bci, that sheâ€" had be««nâ€" some other woman." She paused. Silence followed on her words. Her breath, that had tieen hur- rying from between her lips with un- due haste before, now grew painfully rapid as she marked the hesitation that kept him from replying. Waa he wav- ering? She lifted her heavy, white lids, and turned bur largo, slumbrous eye.s on bis with a glance of keenest â- crutiny. He felt it, and stirred !»- neatb it uneasily. " So do I," be said at last very quiiet- ly. His gaze was lient upon the ground. He could not see the swift transition of color that swept across her face, nor the light that lit her eye.s. " Ah I you have fearâ€" regret f" . she cried. The words fieemed to burst from ber in a little piissiou of contempt and anger. " That is a silly speech. I have no fear, and certainly no regret strong f.»w ugly things, I should have I)een as stupid a.s shi!. Uut if 1 bad done so, 1 do noi s •« how you would have lieen greatly the Uiser." " I do," said Varley. " Not to see you, never to hejir your voice, would have maxle life insupportable." " You managed to exist for a consid- erable time, however, without those joys. If 1 had never returned, I dare say you would have got on very well without them until old age seized you." " But you did return. We met. If I ever madly dreamed I had erased your memory from my he^rt, our first meet- ing dispelled the illusion." " If only you had not married," said she very low. And then, with a sud- den and entire change of manner, and a wrenching of herself away, as it were, from all such folly as even a â-  vague remorse : " Well," she cried gay- ly, "some one should go to the wall; and she â€" doesn't love you. She I" with I a cont^-mptuous intonation. " One can I see it in her eyes, her mouth â€" she does- n't know how to love. Sugar ?" She ' paused and smiled, as at some happy ' re<!ol lection, and leaned toward him. " Do you remember," she said, "what a baby yaa were about sugar long ago? , One, two, three lumps I used to drop into your cup, an<l you would not have ' them unless I put them in with my fingers. Once, when 1 refused (what a naughty boy you were then I), you thn'W my dear little reixnissee sugar- tong.s into tlw fire. You took your pun- ishment very well, however." Varley laughed. " Put them in with your fingers now," he said. " You owe me something. All my life, 1 think, since first I met you, has been one long punishment." " I'ntil now," she put in softly. "Well, how many ? The old numlier â€" one, two thriM-r lir«wdy, as of yore? One would imagine sweets might have i)alle<l u[X>u you by this." " Not such sweets aa you oan offer." He was quite himself again. Any shadow of niniorse that had fallen upon him had l)e»'n conquered, oast out by , the bright nevw of her pr««ence. He had pushe<l a low chair close to hers, and the [jerfuine of the violets that nestled ' in her brtviat came to him with every I breath she drew. " Ah I" said she ; " but if we are to ! be friends, you must lie goo<l, remem- l>er. Such petty speeches are to !« tabooed. There are Constant las in the worlfl, and â€" others. I would have you beware." " There are also such hours as this," said he. Kven as he aiK>ke, ther* "-ame the sound of a heavy treail of approach- ing f(x>l.><(ei)s upon lh<! corridor outside. " Say moments, rather," whispered Mrs. Dundas, hurriedly, making a quaint little moue. bit. enough to work a reformation. But I I -};;- '{i^^ â- --â-  ..j.lL^'^rk'"'" ^" would gladly liave luul it all olhfrtvise." ' He spoke moodily. ' Have It .so, then." returned she im- glutton," went <m Miss MaoGillicuddy, triumphantly, who wa.s plainly enjoyr itig heraelfâ€" aa many lif ihe pious ones of the earth d,.., over the dH»i*air of the Kinnei-H. "liut your sin has found you out. And mine \a the privilege to )» the one to bring you to a sense of it, ti) jthow yuu th«i hiirrors of theft, to te.acb you the alxjminalion of greedir ne«s, to in.slill into your mind the ne- cessity for curbing the appetite, aiil subjecting all earthly i>assions to the more spiritual influciicts. Mind must govern liody, not body uiind!" She quite glowed with the fervor of her words, this old woman eloquent, aa she tbus addresaed the shaking child of eleven. "I consider it to be my duty to correct you, so 1 ordain that )rou sit here on this high ohair (I think it is a hard one) and keep that tart there 'before you on the table, within reach of your bund, for one hour by yonder clock. You ar» to keep your eyej* fixed upon it; but let lue find tliat during my absi^nce your teeth make no acquaintance with It." Barry could liear no more. He sprung through the window and into the room. Miss Miictiillicuddy glared at him. Norah burst into low sobs. Barry, for her own sake, took no notice of them. "I heanl you as I <;ame up, Miss Mac- Gillicuddy," h«5 began, shaking the hand of the unwilling spinster with im- men-se empreasment. "You are always so terse, so true, so eloquent, so â€" erâ€" to the piiint, don't ye know." Nobody could have known; but his manner was rieb in flattery, and Miss MacOillicuddy caught at the word elo> quent. Slie believed herself secretly to be a l)orn orator, and often sigtM!d for an opportunity to ascend a public plat* form and haranoue an intelligent mob. "If you have neard," she said, "you understand the sad necessity that has beK^n forced upon me Ijy this erring girl to punish a heinous misdemeanor. My wonlB, it appears, reached your ears. Such, Mr. Barry, are the salutary less- om* I teach my young cliarges, with a vi«!W to makinK tbtur vicxvj sulnervient to thpm, not they to their vioea, as is too often the case in this present de- moralized raaeiratioii!" She made a full stop. She seemed struck with ad- miration at her own fluenoy of speech. Surely that was a a(<ntenoe full of forc« and elegance. "Excellent! ExcellentI" applauded Barry. "Oh, if I bad inly bad an aunt like you in my jroung days, what a dif- ferent man 1 might le to^dfivl" He spoke with such extreme fervency, that Norah. who was still crying silent- ly with lowered and abashed eyes, lifteil her head suddenly to Ijestow upr on him a glance of withering scorn. She had lielieved ui Barry, and nuwl She puckered up her small features in'- to a disgusted expression, and her big eyes, that always st'^med so many de- f;nies too large for her thin little face, laslMvl firv. She had lost the elalnrate wink that Barry had liestowed U|»n her. and fully regarded him as faithless. She would liBve her revenge, however. petuously. She motle a m'omful ges- ture with her hand, and threw l)ack from her white brow the line red hair that hu'ig round it like a halo. " It is a simple thing to undf> â€" this ship of ours. 'To see me now ani to .s|»eak to uie â€" there is not niue it t(» Iw renwunceil." "Is that how you look at it?" said he. There was reprcxu'h in his regard. " It is how you will learn to look at she mu.sedâ€" she would tell Coiisiantiai and lake that" look out of your eyes! And never, never would Constanlia !» Settle yourself in a Uired position, and civ'l t«) the traitor aKain. brighU-n up when be enters. Look sne- ! "You should rei>eni." said Mujs Mao- cuilly gla<| U>see him Ah, Jol Gillicudrly in a sepulchral tone, lookt- "She could, though. You don't know her. She would ask mo aireotly she oamo lack if I had slirred before the tinu'." "Well?" There was snmelhing so airy and innocent aliout Mr. Barry's voice as he asked this that 1 am glad to say the child failed to comprehend the in- iquity of the inquiry. "Well?' she repeated, tearfully, as it puzzled; "well, then, I'd have to tell, that's all." Sue was looking up at him from her stoi)! of repeuL:inc(< with great drown* eil eyes and a misfiuble red little nose. Tlie nose waa such a thoroughly mel- ancholy affair that it inflamed Mt. Barry's -ire against the alwe.nt tyrant. "Would you, though, by Jove?" he said. "What forVi Catch me telling her the Iru- Oh! hal h'm!" He broke off spasmodically, as he caught the child's clear gaze, and read something of wonderment in it that reduced him to order at once, and woke his slum- liering conscience, and made him very pnirierly ashamed of himself. "You mean â€" " she liegan, hesitating, as if uncertain. "Just so; just so," declared he. vigor- ously, with much effusion. "You are rightâ€" quite right. Nothing like the truth ut all hazards. Give me the truth l)eyond everything. Martyrdom rather than a lie. 1 feel quite like you. In Limerick, I give you my word, you wouldn't find a falsehood amongst the lot of us." "Yes," said Norah, who was entirely puzzled now, and so out of the running that she could only fall back upon the barmleas monosyllable that muaus, as occa&ion offei-s, so much or so little, "I say," said Mr. Barry, "do you think you can keep youi-stdf from falliugi asleep, and tumblmg of that consump- tive old chair, whilst I make a run to the village? If .â- so, I bet you a chip to a pony that we circumvent the old cat yet." He was gone as he spoke. Norah >iat on, spiwchless, oppre.s»ed, with a sense of even greater loneliness now upon her. Constautia was at Araglin, the boys at the Heotory, stumbling through their Latin priuier, and George was in Dublin. Now her last friend. Barry, had duierted her. Where had be gone? Ajid for what? Would he return? What was that word he had used â€" "oircum- beut?" How did a man "ciroumbent" a cat? Did it hurt? Was Aunt Bridget the oat in question? She bad not altogether come to the end of tbewi seoivt interrogations, and liad not so much as decided whether, in the event of it Ijeing proved that "circumtjenting" did hurt, she would be glad or sorry to see her aunt made a victim oX it, when Mi-. Barry once more arrived on the scene, rushing tumult<- uuusly into the room, twrrying in his hand the largest paper i»m that Norah had ever seen. (To he Continued.) GOLDEN GRAINS. All politeness is owing to liberty.â€" Shafttwbury. The man of pleasure should more pro- wl...; T.. I * ; .... :• * I ;««. 4. r» r... â-  . , â€" , **"' ii**»ii Kn. yivaaiitv suuuiu more pro what lurk to get you at this time of mg at Barry. The look, however, waa ,»rly be termed the man of pain -Col- lit '"''"'jrally your horri<l turmiis "» milil as she oould make it. She was ton. or your shortbornit, or I Lord Killen's Revenge. hold you fast Perfection is attained by alow degrees; requires the hand of time.â€" Vol- njured woman, su-. "-ne omgy int oi Diue rililHin t tiat adorn- ' .. '^"'''* "* ""> opposing biutal force to an account of your do- e<l_^ h«T dingier gmm. Then, once the stratzigems of human reason.â€" L'- just as well you caino , niope she atUlresaed the miserable Nor- j llstrango. ., , -. , .. ,, . ^ • ^ 1 xr . ' 'â- *" '*" you- "* Lord I *hi wlxi had clamlvnad into the 01)^-1 A picture is an intermediate some- itâ€" wh.-n ymi have forgotten. A faint ' Varley was on the point of yawning ! noxioua high chair plac«l nejir the thing between a thought and a thing.â€" No, not a wonlk Lord i table, on which was placed, in an offcu» Coleridge. Varley; not an exru-se. I forgive you." wv« prominenc*. the unlucky t.art. who ever saw old age, that did not not d«r» t„^ T I'"'*'^ "''"i ^t"*- ? i applaud the past and cSndemn the pr»- pii\i>Ti.'ij viv- ; P": """' '*' disoliey them, lest worst I - - â- â-  .â- â€"â- > "i^ . â-  »* I HAI I hR XIX. I u-fall you. I am now going to the quiver shook her voice ; somet hing came inti> her eyes that made them softer. deeiK-r, lovlier. Varley made a inove- menl toward her. but she waved him iMU'k; " No. no." she .said. " You must l)egin from this moment if it is to lie â- o." " There were years." said he " and yet did I forget ?" " How can I tell ? Lady Varley is un- deuLubi;|f handsome. She is a stone, a bit of ice. You 'u-ay have found her disappointing afterward, liut certain- ly she is handsiMue." "She may l)e. It is jKjssible. I don't know," said he. wearily. " There is only one thing sure that always your fac-e was liefore me, your voiw^ in my ears, your touch ujion my hand, my hair, your iinag*! in my heart." and give her ings. It was when you did Varley was o„ himself to death. I hough Harry had .suffered defeat on that last day wlwtn he strove to press his suit with Con-stjintia, still he wius in nowise daunted, and only waited for a romantic opportunity to prf«s if again. The romantic inonient, however, not pr6s.mling itself as quickly as the nt time ?â€" Montaigne. They could ueither of them speak for rage and so fell a-sputteriug at one another like two roasting apples.â€" Con- greve. When a man has not a good reason for doing a thing, he has one good rea- son for letting it alone.â€" Sir Walter " You will have to blot that out, my j her; and going uround through the friend, ifâ€"" She ixiused. She drew | tiny garden, gent ly appriMU^hed the n»'An'r to him with the soft, languor- j window, which waa open, anil bxiked ous movement tluit was part of her, ] in. SiHiielxxly wius there certainly, a and was always so sweet to him, and | voice fell ujxm his ears. But surely laid her small, fin«, strong little hand upon his breast. " It is not loo late yet. Goâ€" go Ixick to herâ€" to t he wo- man you have married; leave the wo- man youâ€"" She looked at him. " Love," he .saidi finishing lier sen- tence for her. He lifte-d her band from his breast, and laid it on his brow and then uiiou his lips. He kisse<l it sionately. " Love," he said ag-ain, but this time he called her by it, iis though it were her n.ame. " My one love, my sweet," She laugheil. All the coldne.ss. the cruelty went out of her eyej*, :in<\ a subtle iiKH'kery, tinj?ed with subtler tenilerne^is, UK>k its place. " Thai is not tht- way to Ix'^in," she whispered, her IxMuliful reil lips part- ed by a smile. "Take courage in Imlh hands, and put me from you." The pret- ty palm, that still lay iijion his mouth, pri'.ss«Ml it ever so delicately .os she thus a<lvi.s«d him to relinquish her. " Too late." " Nay ; that is mere cowardice. What «ni I more Ihnn another that you can not let me go? Caleb up your honor, 1 implore you, ere it sink into the mire!" She s[>oke nifx'kingly, with an iiLsolent daring, for as yet (he man had not so far fallen that his honor wiis no longer ibvir in hi.s sight. She laughed aloud in the certainty of her pi>wer. Her glance burning into his, was a wild mingling of love and tri- umph. " Honor. I'.-ederic !" sh«i repeat- ed n-okle-ssly. "Think of ill It is a magic word that shoulil sway you. To love her iiieaiis honor ; to love me " â€" ebi- crept closer to hlin, and raising one arm, pnsse<t it slowly secluctively arounil bis nex-kâ€" " diahoiior !" "So lie it," said Varley unsteadily. He drew her to him and iiresseil his lips to the exquisite blue-veined t hroat, from vvhich the lac^e.s fell away as though deeming it .shaino to hide it. She sunk into a low (diair, and pour- ed out tea in(o the pretty eggshell china cui>s liefore her. 'rhere was a delicate flush ujion her checks ; her eyes were gleaming ; she looked adorable. " After all," she .said, " we have had our little tussle for nothinir. Whv should you not lie my friend V Whv not call here as you will, in spite of all the firudes in t he world ? There is noth- ing dishonorable in the iimtp fiu-t of your finding me more attrax^tive than your wife. If I had forbidden you my {ureaence tiecause Constanlia said a town, to lake the chair at the Wo- m<^n's Hlut^ Hihiion meeting that lakea olaor this afternoon. 1 shall prolialv ly lie away aliout two hours, but as your punishment is to last Iml an hourâ€"" Slie beHitated. "I have Imon mild, cul- ,-, , = . .. ., .- .... iw-bly mild, I think." She hesitated, sou t of a lover desired, he one day made again, and Norah grew cold with fright Scott. up his mind to defy the power of et- lest the second hour was aUnut to l» j There is in every true woman's heart iuanbeil_up to The Cottage taoked on to her first term of impris- I a spark of heavenly fire, which beams now«!ver. my word has gone ^ anil blades in the dark houxs of adver- sity.â€" Irving. It is not enough that poetry should be so refined as to satisfy the judg- ment ; it should api)eal to our feeling and imagination.â€" Horace. Repartee is the highest order of wit, as it bespeaks the coolest, yet quickest exercise of genius, at a moment when feet, and in a new suit of gray- clothes that he ontnoint. flattered himself were" eminent ly beiom- ; forth," she went on at' last, "and so it ing, to seek an interview with Con- 1 shall rest. Watch that clock, you un- stantia He knew the room that oftenest held Imppy girl!" pointing to the undainty t'mepijHxs that dcHecnited the mantel- shelf; "and when the hour has gone by, you may ^t off tliat chair. To stutly the tune is the one recreation I will allow- youâ€" the only opportunity I will IJJ'nuit you to remove your gaze from tnose were not the dulcet tunes of bis that evidence of your gluttony. I re- the passions are roused. â€" Colton. "•'"*''''' I I gn'i that I cannot stay to entertain If his lielovct was a most alarming ^P"- ^'^- Barry." with grew.some gra- old woman wilh a <-ap and a false front, "lominesd; "butâ€"" and a violent lenim-r. certainly she it! 'Oh, thank you. I lieg you will not was. Miss Mactiilliciiilily in a fine "'^f*'" '"an your good work for my frenzy was [Hiiiring forth the vials of «**«." entreated Bsrry, eagerly. "I her wrath on the wretched Norah, who 'n»'r»ly came to ask George a question." pas- stixnl a ireiiibling, n»Un'ralile culprit tie- ! ,'*«"'te "o. Y'ou will remain here, 'â- â€¢â- '^ fore her. Harry stared, aghast, unable, '"'''â-  Prolwbly for some time. Let me 3 aslonishment ' '*« "f y" to stve that ti Men and things have each their pro- per iMjrspective ; to judge rightly of some it is necessary to see them near, of others we can never judge rightly jfoui^uld. to move, so great was his astonishment ' '*8 "' y" to stve that that unhappy and disapooiiitment at not seeing Con- *',"!,"," y'l'ler olieys my behest." stantia. He wiis, too, a remarkably ! i«siy U|Hin me. It will give me a gooil-natunut young iinan, and to see """owful pleasure to see you are oliey^ Norah in woe went to his heart, lie '"', ••" ">*> very letter," said Barry wan fond of Norah, not only IxH^use she '"""'inly. was niiar to his rose, but for her ow-n ,,.,'' ''*^ ^^^ adieu and left the room, sake.; and the child was fond of him, ! .^i "*'" ^"^ ba*' disappeared safely up though ixThaixs she had a preference pi^.", K""*^«'l«'l walk, and the gate had for Stroiige. So great now was Bar- ' , " ,^" Iwhind her, a fact a.s<!ertained ry'a concern for the frail little creature ! !.'y "''^- Barry by a juiUoious {Keeping under .sentence, that he leaned his ! J""** liehind the dingy otirtaina, he IIk>ws on the wiiidow-itill, and listened I turned to Norah but at a distance. â€" Rochel Wit may be a thing of pure imagina- tion, but humor involves sentiment and character. Humor is of a genial qual- ity ; dwells in the same cliaraoter as pathos, and is always mingled with sen- sibility.â€" Giles. Resentment is, in every stage of the passion, painful, but is not disagreeable unless in excess ; pity is always pain- full, yet always agreeable ; vanity on the contrary is always pleasant, yet al- ways disagreeable. â€" Home. Beneath the rule of men entirely great, the pen is mightier than the sword. Behold the arch enchanter's I hen said to c<impii'- {.'eotions there, and went up to t he â- t. Niirah liad nvi. 'â-  "ttle Sinner nerohed on her stool of with all his might to the allereation within, if that could Ix) cjilled an al- tenation when only one spoke. The child si!emed stricken into a dumb ter- ror. He had -not heard the lieginning of the " n>w," aa he called it, but he gathered .sufficient from wkit wHii Ix'ing bend the fii-sl act. Norah had evi dently not Ix-en pniot against the tem- ptations of a little fruit tart, two inches by two and a halt inches, one of halt u dozen prepared for the day's dinner, and had taken it from the i>an- try, and had eaten i>arl of it when Misa fltacGillicuilily Imd (tounced upon her, and dragged her into this small parlor to receive punishment. I,ater on. It transpired t'oat Mulcahy had given the little tart, with a kiss, and her blessing in honest Irish, but the child had Ix-en too frightened to explain. The unhappy tart now lay upon the table, Imlf demolished, and the more U>,nn(ling in that fruit cxiuld lx> seen. "lo .steal," Miss MacGillicudily was saying in awful voic*, standing ere.ct, her gaunt figui-e drawn up to its full- est height, whilst she shixik a long forefinger at the trembling Norah, "means to lie a thiefl You are a thiofi" The. child writhed in an agony of protest, but her frightened little tong- ue clovH to the roof of her mouth, and no sound came. Harry's heart bled for her. "You are not only a base thief but a t!ii».". o...„.;':r u .. ,,, J , , I wand I itself a nothin'5 1 but taking sor- witb her^ tL- ^* ^i"*' ^i^*? 'T'' J° ""-y from the master hand, to paralyze tate " H« J^'^ * ".'? * "'"''' °' ^^^ the Caesars, and to strike the lol^ earth gai«. Me stoo<l on tiptoe onoe more l.reathless HiUwer and oraned his neck cautiously, and | '"^"''"?^- "^^''«*- . had the gratification of. seeing her ' % who opposes his own judgment sulking down the road up to her anklea ; fK^'n't t^« .'»«»?«>»' °^ ''»«' ''S^.^^K.''* in. dust. "Well, of all tW old divilsl" \° '* '?i''**'.'^'^.t "answerable truths; said he. He gave up bis private re- I ''* ^""Jf *»** ♦™'^'' "," .^"^side is a fool, •^ ' as well as a coward, if he is afraid to sad Norah had evi- '""« sinner ptJrohed on her stool of re^ ?-T°.," ^^^ "' '",'« currency or mul- pcntjinoe. titude of other men a opinions.â€" De Foe. "Poor little l)eggar^" said ho. as ten- i ^"o carry on the feelings of childhood derly as though he had called her by : into the powers of manhood, to combine a more eniUiaring appellation; "and was ' the child's sense of wouder and novelty all that fiLSH alxiut one oakej" | with the appearances which every day "Don't dare sixtak to me," returned , lias rendered familiar, this is the char- acter and privele^ of genius, and one of the marks which distinguish genius from talent.â€" Coleridge. Philosophy is a bully which talks very loud when the danger is at a distance, but the moment she is hard pressed by the en»my she is not to be found at her post, but leaves the . brunt of the battle to be borne by her humbler out steadier comrade religion, whom on modt other occasions she affects to despise. â€" Colton. Norah. with a wrathful shriek. Mr. Barry gave way lienoath it. He oi>ene<l his eyets and gazed at her in ever-inoreasing wonder. "Stuff ami non.seiiael" he oried at last; "d'ye moan to toll ma you didn't under*- stand me? That you didn't know I waa on your side? Why, if I hadn't pretended t^ lie civil to that old harri* dan slie would have bean horte now, and w-e couldn't have had an opportunity of paying her out for all her sins, I B.iy, gel off that skinflint of a ohair." He tried tenderly to lift her to the ground, ' I promisiB m oiiey â€" a promise gi 5I?"^',J*'*^ P""® "»* '"^ solemnly, as Muss MacGiliiouddy knewâ€" clung per- sistently to it. "Oh, I can't," she said, sobbing veh- emently, "I daren't. She would find me out." "She couldn't." WHY Ufm ARE SILT. EFFORTS TO ANSWER THE QUESTIOU I NOT SATISFACTORY. Frodnrril and I'Inritiefl the Atmoitphere- I KiilHril roiitiiientii and Created Car- ' rent*â€" Intereatiajc Infarmatlan. I The sea- at present contains ninety quintillions tons of salt. If this salt could be gathered in a solid form and compreased into the shape of a cube, it would contain 10,173,000 cubic miles. Each edge of such a cube would mea- sure somewhai. more than two hundred miles. This La enough to cover all the land on this globe w-ith a uniform layer of salt to a depth of one thous- and feet. The questions may well be asked, where did all this salt come from, and what is the use of it ? Several scien- I tific gentlemen have attempted to an- swer this first question, and their ef- forts are not entirely satisfactory. XIm second question is qot so difficult. According to the history of the crea- tion of the world, as told by Moses in the Gene.sis, it is implied that the oceaa ; existed liefore the land, for, on the . " third day " the " water under the hea- : vens " were gathered together and the I dry land appeared. SOLVING THE TROUBLE ' The statement has bothered a great number of able philosophers, whq. in their effort to stick to the letter of the Scripture and at the same time to reason out everything on perfectly oa- ; tural principles, have been puzzled t* know how such a grand transforma- ; tion could be accomplished in one day. [ And their perplexity waa not relieved when learned geologists announced that it must have required ages for the wa- ' ters that enveloped the earth ; to subside and reveal this land that '. lay beneath. But when it was suggested that the word " day " as used by Moses. meant« not a re^il period of tweuly-four hourt I but au era of thousands of years, the I difficulty waa removed. This meaning of the word " day " is at present gener- ally accepted by devout scientists, who now declare that there is nothing im- possible in Moees' account of the crei^ • tion. j HOW IT BECAME SALT. ^ Accepting the Mosaic account. Or. T. S. Hunt, a learned writer on the phy- sical history of the globe, supplies what Moses left out, and <a so doing he gives a very good reason tor the pres- ence of the salt in the sea. Having ar- rived at the point of Moses' meagr» narrative where the earth waa in a ; molten state and surrounded by aa I envelope of gases and of water vapour, I Dr. Hunt says: I " The carbonates, chlorides, and siU* I pliates (chemical uombiuatiuus of car- bon, chlorine and sulphur, with oxy- [ gen) were changed into silicates. The cartK>u, chlorine and sulphur, being thua I fret»d from the oiyge^i, separated ia the form of acid gaaea. These, with niti-ogeu, vapour of water and a prob- able excess of oxygen, formed the at- i mosphere. which was very dense (and j also ifery unheoitby.) " 'The surface of the eaf th waa cov- ered with lumps of molten rock (prol>- i able resembling furnace slag.) Th« I deprensed parla of the surface were fill- I ed with highly heated solutions of hy- : drochloric and sulphuric acids, which I ate into the surface and decomposed it. j In this way tho silicates were changed I to pure silica, taking the form of quart* I as the atmosphere cooleil, and the con- densation of the vaporous atmosphere, prixluced a«va water, holding in soTutioa phases of sodiiuu, calcium and mague- sium, and salts of ummouium. The at- mosphere, thus freed of its noxious ele- ments, became pure and fit for man." WHAT IS IIS USE ? It is therefore evident that the sea has been salty from the creation of ttM world. The salt does not come, as ia generally supposed, from friction of the water against salt " rot-ks " in the bed of the ocean. This then, answers the first question. Where did the salt come from ? The s»H'ond question is pretty well answered by Mr. G. W. Littlehale* in the Popular Science Monthly. " It seems," he says, " that the sea was mode salt in the beginning aa a part of the grand deaign of the Crea- tor to providie. for the system of evo- lution which has been going on siuM the creation. Many distinct species at living organisms e.xist in tho sea aa a result of its salinity, and their re- mains have lar^ly contributed to the growth of continents." The minute creatures that have lived in the aaa for ages past have left en- during monumenta in the shape of is- lands, rocks and continents. If the sea bad not been salty these marine ani- mals oould not have exi8l«Ml and sec- reted the hard substanoe known aa a " caloereous skeleton," which wcjj large- ly contributed to the growtho of con- tinents. Among these early inhabit- ants of the sea were corals, crinoids, sea urchins and star fishes. The saltiness of the sea has alsoiijucb to do with the ocean currents, which distribute the 1. ^t of the tropics over tue colder regions of the earth. Cur- rents are largely due to the difference between the specific gravity of sea wa- ter and the fresh water of rains. Thua when rains falls on a c^jtain iiart of the ocean the effort of the heavier salt water of the ocean to establish an equilibrium causes a current. " Having contributed to the growth of continents, the saltneas of llie sea has in a like degree peopled them by influencing hmuan migrations througlii the streams of the ocean, upon which the race of man was spread to the dis- tant archipelagoes at a time when there were only rudimentary means for struggling against the forces of na- ture.' The prosperity of a people is propor- Irtit the o'hiid »tron«" in iZl I ''9'"^'" '" '*»« number of hands and to olJy-^^promte^ivS^ siU ' '^'"'^ «««!,Hl<y employed. To the oom- j iiiiiuoae given siir- pymty sedition is a fever, corruption is a gangrene and idleness is an atro- phy. Whatever body or society wastes more than it acquires must gradually decay; and every being that continues to be fed and ceases to Talxir takes away something from the uublic stock.â€" John- THE WATER CRESS. The water oreaa contains very man^ sanitary and medicinal qualities. A curious characteristic of it is that, if grown in a ferruginous stream, it abf sortie into itself five times tho amount of iron that any other plant does. For all anaemio constitutions it is, there- fore, specially of value. But it also contains proportions of garlic and suU- phur, of iodine and phosphatea. and is, therefore, most valuable as a Wood l>uruier. »>