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'*'-W!Wf|f*'"'-''" '- ii-igi m til '"iiiiiiii AS GOOD AS aOLD. i. .' ( mad faat«n«(itiip,.a»d diraotad to the oli'<-n of tlie Caaterbritlge Chroniole. "N>w," said tienohaid. wiLh the bUze of satUjCaolion that h» emittBil i > It % \ CHA^TETR XIX. -^^â- *.*-*' Henohard and £aizal:»th sat poowr*- ing by the fire. It was three woeks at- â€" - â€" r- . . • .v.- !„. ii.â„¢.„i. . «I T. u J. »..-„-«i . iho ran- when he had carried his pointâ€" though ter Mrs. Henchard's funeral , the can ^^^5^^^^^, softened it thU time-'lM dies were not lighted, and' a flexuous ^^ upstairs and hunt for some docu- acroliatic flame poised on a coal, called uients that wi.l prove it all to-morrow, from the shady walls the smiles of all Gawl-niKht. my Klizalwlh-Jane." shapes that could re.spondâ€" the old pier- fflaas, with gilt ooluinns and huge en- tablature, the picture-framea, sundry knoba and handles, and the brass ro- sette at the bottom ot each riband bell- pull on either side of the chimney- piece. "Elizabeth, do you think much of old times?" said Henchard. "Yes, sir; often," said she. "Who do you put in your pioturea of •em f " ' "Mother and fatherâ€" Nobody else hardly." Henchard always looked like one bent on resisting pain when Elizabeth-Jane â- poke of Richard Newson as "father." "Ah ! I am out of all that, am I not?" Ite said. , . "Was Newson a kind fa- ther»" "Yes, sir; very." Henchard's face settled into an ex- pression ot stolid loneliness which gra- dually modulated into somelbing softer. "Suppose I bad been your real fa- ther?" he said. "Would you have cared for me as much as you caredi for Kich- ard Newson?" "I can't think it," she said quickly. "I oau think of no other a« my father except my father." Henchard's wife was dissevered from him by death ; his friend and helper Farfrae by estrangement ; Elizabeth- Jane by ignorance. It seemed to him that only one of them oould P-i^'^|{L" fe^/r w'a^^oTn. XS'S'VSo be recalled, and that was the girl. Uis reason to suppose the restriction one mind began vibrating between the of serious weight, and his feeling for wish to reveal himself to her, and the his late wife had not been of the nature policy of leaving well Slone, ^-^IJ^Ali^A'Tt'^^^^ oould no longer sit stiU. He walked • • ' He was gone before the bewildered girl oould realize what it all meant, or adjust her filial sense to the new 'entre of gravity. She was thankful that he had left her to herself, for the evening, and sat down over the (ire. Here she remained in silence, and wept â€" nnt (or her another now, but for the genial sailor, Richard Newson, to whom she seemed doing a wrong. Henchard, in the meantime, had one upstairs. Papers of a domestic nature be kept in a drawer in his lied- room, and this he unlocked. Before turning theu) over he leant back and indulged in reposeful thought. Elizabeih was hl9 at last, and she was a, girl of such good sense aind kind heart that ihewouM be -sure to like htm. He was the kind of man to whom some human ubjeet for pouring out bis heart upon â€" were it effective or were it choleric â€" was almost a necessity. The craving of bis heart for the re-establishment (if this tenderast human tii- bad been great during his wil'e's lifetime, and now he had sutimitted to its mastery with- out reluctance and without fear. He bent over the drawer again, and pro- u^eded in bis search. Among the other papers bad lieen placed the contents of his wife's little desk, the keys of which had been hand- ed to him ac her request. Here was the letter addressed to him with the re- striction, "Not to l>e opened till Eliza- beth-Jane's wedding-day." M>8. Henchard, though Isetter edu- cated than her husl^ond, had l>een no radical hand at anything. In sealing up the sheet, which was folded and tucked in without an envelope, in the (dd-fashioned way, she had overlaid the junction with a large mass of wax without the exquisite under-touch of up and down, and then he stood behind a chair, looking down upon the top 9t her head. He could no longer restrain his impulse. "What did your mother tell you about meâ€" my biatory?" he asked. "That you were related by marriage." "She should have told moreâ€" before jrou knew me. Then my task would not have been such a hard one. . . Elizabeth, it is I who am your father, and not Richard Newson. Shame alone prevented your wretched parents from owning this to you while both ot *ini| ohri^Tened hwli^ thfTsajiir^ame we were alive." ' â-  had given to tho first, and she filled The bick of Elizabeth's head rtimMn-'l JP. [ •»« "che I felt at the othPr'.s loss. , ..,, , , t ,, ,.j ,1 Michael, I am dying, and I inigbt have ed sua, and her shoulders did not de- be!d my tongue; bUt I oould not. Tell have your scorn, your fear, anything. ^'^- '"" '»>'» 'J«*'P'y wronged, as «he note even the movements ing. Henchard went on: forgives you than your ignorance; 'tis thot 1 hate. "Soban Honcburd." Your mother and I were man and wife Her husliand regarded the paper as when wo were young. What you saw 'f it were a window-paao ihrou^jb which was our second marriage. Your mo- j ^1, *\ *^ "•'" ,'"'â- Â«Â«â€¢ "'>' I'p twitched, T,a^ uui Bw^uu. uiu.iiiu«u. iuu. and., h^ fieeined lo uompruaa his frame, Iher was too honest. We had . thought } aa if to liear letter. His usual haliil each other deadâ€" andâ€" Newson l)ecame|Was in>t lo coiusider wliether destiny he said ; and without curiosity he al- lowed his eyes to scan the letter:- "My dear Michael â€" b'or the good of all three ot us, 1 have kept one thing a secret from you till now. I hope you will understand why ; I think you will; though perhaps you may not for- give me. liut, dear Michael, 1 have done for the liest. I shall be in my grave when you reod this, and Eliza- Leth-Jane will have a home. Don't curse me, Mike â€" think of how I was situated. I can hardly write it, liut here it is. K.izaljeth-Jane is not your Elizalieth-Janeâ€" the child who was in my arms whan you sold me. No ; she died three months after that, and this iiving one is my other husliaad's. I if breath- er huaband^f this or not, as you may I'd rather judge; and forgive, if you can, a wo- her husliand." This was the nearest approach Hen- chard could make to the full truth. As far as he personally was concerned he would have screened nothing; Ijut he showed a respect for the young girl's sex and years woithy of a iietler man. When he had gone on to give details whijh a whole series ol sligut and un- regarded inoideuta in her past lite itrangely corroborated; when, in short, (be Ijtilieved his story to be true, she ;>ecame greatly agitutful, and, turning found to the tal)le, flung her face up- t weeping. "JJon'l cry â€" don't cry," said Henchard with vehement pathiis, "1 can't liear it, I am your fat her ; why should you cry? Am 1 so dreadful, so hateful to 'eof Don't take against me,.Elizubvth-Janul" he cried, grasping her wet band. "Uun't take against me â€" though I was a drink- ing man once, and used your mother' rou4{hiyâ€" I'll be kinder to you than he was 1 111 do anything, if you will only look upon me as your lather I" I She iried to staud up and confront him trustfully; but she could not; she Wtta tnmlilwl at his presence, like the ...ethren at the avowal of Joseph. "I don't want you to come lo me all of a sudden," said iienohurd, in jerks, and moving like a great tree in a wind. "No, KlizaLelh, I don't. I'll go away and not sue you till t(»-morrow, or when you like; and lli»n I'll show 'ee papers „ „ .>_, to prove lay worcLs. There, I am Bonn di^ad iiien'a traits, which the notiility were hard upon him or not â€" the shape ot his ideas in cases ot affliction lielug simply tt mcx)dy "1 am to suffer, 1 perceive." "So much scourging iis this t hen, is it for me ?" Hut now through his passionate head there slorniud this thoughtâ€" that the blasting disclosure was what he had deserved. Uis wife's extreme reluctance to have tile gill's name altered from Newson to Uenubard woa now accounted (or fully, ii furnislMMl another illustra- tion ot that hi<nosty in dishonesty whi>-h had characterised her in other things. Ho remained unnerved and purpoae- le.s.s for near a ooujile ot hours; till ho suddenly said, "Ah â€" I wonder if it is true I" 1 He juiuiiod up in an impulse, kicked off liis slippers, and went with a candle to tho dour of Elizaluth-Jane'a room, where he put his ear to t ho keyhole and listened. .She was breathing pro- foundly. Henchard sofily turned tho >^adle, entered, and shading the light, approached the bedside. Gradually bringing the light trom behind a screening curtain ho held it in such a manner that it fell slantwise on her face without shining on her eyea. Ue steadfastly regarded her features. 'liiey were liiir ; his were dark. But this was an uniuiportant preliminary. In slcoi> there coiao to the surface bur- ied geiinalogiLral facts, ancestral curves, wlAte ^â- iMta'lpinifeiiiBd'bora^^^en other < ittaces were - aeeaJming with warmth; while in winter tt wau tho ctued-fieliJ 'of' tin the 'kchf^a, rhdumatLsms, and torturing crampts of the year. The Cast- erbrid(;e doctors naust have pin>.;d away for want of suffiuiuat nourifillMmeJtt, but for the configuration of the land- scape on tbii nuriit.astern side. 'Ihe riverâ€" slow, noiaoless, and dark â€"the Schwarzwaa<»3T of Casterbridgeâ€" ran l)ema:b a low cliff, the two toge- ther forming a defence which had ren- derexl waJs and ariiticial tsarihworkd on thia side unnecessary. Here were ruiiui of a Fraucscan piiory, and a mill attached to tho isame, the water at which roared dow:n a back-hatch like the voice of desolation. Above the cliff, and behind th^ river, rosj a pile of buildiio^s, and in the front oil the pile a square mass cut into tba sky. It viaa like a p<tdiestal lavkimig its statue. 'I'bia mifi^ing feature, without which tb« design rumaioed incomplete, was, in truLb, the corps.) ot a man; for the square mass form-ed the base of the gallows, i-be extensive buildings at the buck being the county gaol. In the meadow wbure H-e-nchard now waliked tho mob were won't to gather wbeo- ever an execution took place, and there to tho tune of the roaring weir they stood and watched Ihe spectacle. The eiLOggcratiua which darkness im- parted to ilie gloom-s ot thi;s r<^ion im- pras.sed Hejichard more than he had ex- pected. Tbti lugubrious harmony of the spot with his domestic situation was too porfect for bim, impatient of effects, suejies, and adumbrations. It reduced bis heart-burning to melan- choly, and he exclaimed, "Why the deuce did 1 comie h>?rel" He weni on past the cottaga in which the old local banjrman had lived and died, in times before that callin(g was monopolised by a single gentleman; and climbed up by a steep ba<-.k lani3 into thj ^wn. For the sufferings of that night, en- gendered by hvs bitter disapixkint ment, he might well have been pitied. Ue was like one who had half-fainted, and could neither recover nor complete the swoon. In words be could bla,me his wife, but; not in bis heart: and had hi3 obeyed the wiss directions outside her letter this paioi would have baen spared bim for longâ€" possibly for ever, Elizaboth- Jane sfeming to show no ambition to quit her safe and secluded maiden courses for the specuUtive path of mat- rimony.. The morning came after thia nighti of unrest, and with it the necessity for a plan. He was far too self-willed to recede from a pcaition, especially as it would involve humiliation. His daugh- ter h^ had asserted her to )>e. and hi^ daughter she woulxl always think her- self, no matter wiiat hypocrisy it in- volved But he was ill prepared for the first step in this new situation. The mo step in this new sitiuition. The mo- ment he camo into thf breakifast-room Elizabeth advanced with open confi- dence to bim and tool: bim by the arm. "I have thought and thought all night of it," she said frankly. "And I see that every ihin^; must be as you say. And I am going lo kiuk upon you a^ the falb'r that you are, and not to call you Mr. Uenchard any more. It is so pluin to me now. Indivd, father, it is. For, 01 couiae, you would not bavo done half the thiOigs you have done tor me, and la me^ hard my own way wl eutirely, and tjouj;hi me presents, if I had only been ybur stepdaughter, llti â€" i\Ir. NewsoQ â€" whom my poor motb.vf married by such a slraiigj misiaki.^,'* (Heiivhard was glad that he had dus- gui.sed inatl« ra ti r.') "was very kindâ€" oil, so kumll" (she. spuke with uars in her ey«H) "but ihai is not the .saaio thing as lieing one's real fath;!r atief all. Now, lather, breakfast is ready," said she. cheerful. ly. lleneli.nrJ Innt and kiswMl ber cheek. The moment and the a:;i. ho had con- ttMiipUiied for w.-.'k.s with a thrill of pltiasurc; yet it wa-s no less than a mis- eral>l.u insipidity 1 u liini now that it hiul come. IIis remal,i;ii>n of ht<r mother had be«-iu chiefly for the girl's sake, and the fruition of tho wbo^.^ wheuie was such dust an<l ashe.s as this. antf won't disturb you any more 'Twas 1 that cliuse your name, my daughter; your iiiiother wanted it Su- san. There, d(m't forget 'twas I gave you your name." He went out at the door and shut her softly in, and she heard him go away into the garden. But ho had not done. Ilefore she had moved, or in any way recovered from the effect of his diseloHure, ho reap- peared. "One word more, Klizalwth," he said of <layiime animation screens and over- wherlms. .In the piese-nt statuesque re- ncise of the youttg girl's countenance Richard Newson's was unmistakably re- llecled. lie cnuld not endure the sight of her, and hastened away. Misery taught him nothing more than defiant endurance ot it. Ilia wife was <lead, and the first impuilso for re- venge <liod with Ihe thought that she wius beyimd biiu. He looked out at the night as a fiend. Henchard, like She brou«rht forward blottlng-booK, paper, and ink, and sat down. "Now th«>n â€" "An agreement entered Into this sixteenth day of October"â€" write that first/' She started the pen in an elephantine march across the sheet. It was a splen- did rouad. bold l.jnd of her own con- ception, a style that would have stamp- ed a woman as Minerva's own in more recent days. But other ideas reign- ed tb'an; Henchard's cr.'.ed was that pro- per young girls wrote ladies' handâ€" nay, ho believed that bristlinig characters were as ionate and inseparable a part of refined womiwhood as sex itself. Henr« when, instead of scribbling, like the Prinoeas Ida,â€" "In such a hand as when a field of corn Bows all Its ears before the roaring lEast." Elizabetb-Jane produced a line of chain-shot and sand-bag^, he reddened in angry shame tor her, and, peremp- torily saying, "Never mind â€" I'll finish it," dismissed her there and then. (To be continaed.) "You'll take my siirimiue nowâ€" hey? all hi.s hind, was supersiilious, and he Your motlu-.r was aaainst it; 1ml it eould not help thinking that, tho eon- will l)e much mure pleasant to mo. 'Ti; enlenation of eveiita Ibis evening had legally your.s, you kntiw. Hut noliody jiroduced was lh« scheme of some sin- need kiiiiw that. You shall take it as ister intelligenoo bent on punishing if by choice. I'll talk to my lawyerâ€" him. Vet they had devokpiul nut urally. 1 don't know the law of it exactly; but If he hud not revealed his [Xiatj hisluiy will you ilo this â€" let me put a few lines to Elizabeth he would not have search- into the newspaper that such is to be ed Ihe drawer for popiM's, and so on. your name I" Th« muclsery was, that he should have "If it is my name I must Jiave it, no sooner taught a girl to claim 1 lie mustn't I?" Hhe a.><ked. '' shelter of his paternity than he dis- "Well, well ; u.sage is everything in covered her to jiave no kinship with (heao matters." him. "I wonder why motlier didn't wish This ironical acqutnoe of things an- It ?" gered him like itii iiiipiisih trick from a "Oh, 8(»ue whim of the poor soul's. feMow-creature, Lik' Prester John's, Now get a bit ol^ paper and draw up lii-'< table had been spread, anil infernal a paragraph as 1 shall tell yuu. Ilut harpies bad snatched up the food, lie let's have a light." wont out ot IIk' bouse, and inovod sul- "I can 8e.e by the firelight," she ap- lenly onward down tho pavement till wnrc<l. "Yes â€" I'd rallwr. he came to the. bridge at the bottom "Very well." of 'he High Htreet. Here ho turned She ii:ot a pi(*» of paper, and lieiiding in upon a bypath on tho river bank, over the tender, wrote at his dictation skirting the northeastern Idmits of the words which be had evidently got by <own.i heart from same advertisement or other These precincts einl)odlod tho mourn- words lo the ettect tliat slie, the writer, ful phases of Casterbridge life, as the liilberto known as I'liizalei h-.Tiirto Nrw." south avenues einbodii'd its «heerful' son was going to call horsolt Elizabeth- moods. The wholu way along hor<> was ,iane Hotehard fi^tbwfch. It was done, sunless, even in summer thne; in spring CHI A ITER XX. Of all the enigmas which over con- fronted a girl tiwiv can have been sel- duui one like ijjut which followed llen- eluird's aauouncement of himsttU to Elizabeth as her (uiber. He had dune it in an ardour aud an agitation which hod halt carried ths point o( adeciion wiih her; yet, behold, from Ihj next morning onwards his manner was eon- strained as shd had never seen it before, 'i he coldness soon broke out into open chiding. Uue grievous failing ot Ktiz- aJKMh's was her oi'casiunal prvMty aud pi.turesquo um> of dialect wurds,- thu.se lerrilile marks of the beast to the truly gifntecl. It was .dinner timeâ€" they never met exi-<'pt at meals â€" and she happened to say wheal he was rising frmii table, wishing to phovv him something, "If you'll bide whiro you be a luiuuio, fa- ther, I'M gel it." "Hide wbi're you be," he echoed sharply, "Good Gâ€" , are you only (it to carry wash to a pig-trough, that y« u-se such words a.s those?" She reddened with sbume and sad- news. 1 "I meant 'stay wIkto you ore,' fa- ther," shio said, in a low, humble voice. "J ought to h<ive be«n more laretuL'-' He made no reply, and went oufol the room. 'ihe sharp reprimand was not lost! upon her, and in tima it came to pass th.it for "fay" she said "succeed;" that .she no longer spoke of "diuubledorcs" but of "bumble bees;" no longer said of young men and women that they "walked together," but that they were "engaged;" that .*,lw grew to talk of "greggles" as "wild liya«umhs;" that whi'41 she had not sK'.pt aho did not quaintly tell tho servants next morn- ing that she had been "hagrid," but tluii .she had "sufte^red frum indigea- lioa..'' 1 bes!i improvements, however, are somewhat in advance ot tho story. Hen- chard, liclng unouRivated himself, was the bitter«'8t critic the fair girl could p(x>4.sibly have had ot her own lajisea â€" really "alight now, for she read omniy- orously. A gratuitous ordeal was in store for her in the matter ot ber hand- writi.iiK. Sho wa« iiasniiig the dining- room door one evening, and bad oeca- si(«i to go in tor something. It was not till .she had op.xned the door that she knew the Mayor win there in tho ecan- paiiy of ft man witib whom he trans- net ed busin^sB. "Here, Klizabed.h-Jan*,;' ho said, look- ing roimd at her, "just write down what I tel.l you â€" a few words ot an Rigrtveniejit for me ajid this gent lemon to .sign, I am a poor tool with a pen." "Bo jowned, aud so be 1," said th*> gentli.tiuui,' CHRISTMAS CUSHIONS. The bharm ot the divan pillow as • Christmas gift is that whether you buj it, or make it yourself, whether it ia costly or simple, it is sure to find a warm welcome and a hungry nook where its presence will be always grate- fully remembered. Women who plan to make pillows for holiday distribution should know in time that, no matter how many ticks the feather stuffing is inclosed in, and no matter how close woven is the out- i er covering, down from barnyard fowls or eider ducks will eventually work through unless the proper precautions are taken. An expert pillow maker says that in the factories they hold the feathers in check by ironing out, what will be the inside of the twilled cotton tick, with beeswax. On a hot flatiron the wax is rubbed and this spreads a thin coat- ing, unpenetrable by feathers, all over the goods. A thin white cotton slip is invariably put orer the coarse tick- ing and then the pillow is ready for aa elegant or as simple dressing as one coil afford. A great many of the novelty holiday pillows are cut three-cornered, covered with inexpensive pale yellow chamois skins, the very kind used by housekeep- ers (or window and mirror polishing;. In heavy crochet silk the three initials of the prospective owner's name are em- broidered in the three corners, and in- stead of cording the edges they are carefully whipped over with the heav- iest sewing aiik twist to be had, and huge pompons of satin ribbon set on aa a finish at the three points. A charming new pillow for a woman's divan is covered with heavy white Irish linen, frilled with Limerick lace aud powdered with blue embroidered stars about tall white gothic initial letters. A beautiful brown satin pillow is bro- caded with big red poppies, while across one corner runs the legend quoted from Eugeue 1' ield's poem, " And each hath a dream that is tiny aud fleet," The quotation pillow rather usurps the chair nixiks and divan ends, and now pretty things from Shelley, Shak- speare, Coleridge, Keats aud other poets will be met with in every sofa corner after t ho holidays. A very ec- onomical and attractive way of doing an effective pillow ca.se is to buy ana cover the cushion with some showy satin brocaded in large figures of a contrasting color. Then outline every tendril aud flower in the brucadin« with Japanese gold thread. This comes at twenty-five cents per skein and is easily put on. With a little fine bro- cading bullion thread dash a few glints of silver in the center ot every flower and the effect atone, as one woman concluded rightly, is worth |50. Of course you ran actually lay out yi'iO on a divan pillow if you like and the handsomest and most costly of them are covered with embroidered slips done by Armenian women. As needle women these persecuted creatures are only outdone by the Russian nuns, and their work in j?old and silver emboss- ing on satin is equal to the best Japanese or Chinese embroidery. It is an odd fact that since the massacres have been so frequent and terrible these humble women have plied their needles as usual, spreading rich veins and flow- er .sprays over silk and satin, but al- ways secretly working amid the deli- cate leaves, blossoms and tendrils, signs and letter.s, that when put together and spelled out are prayers for deliverance, exclamations of grief aud <lespair,words of consolation and proverbs counseling resignation. Hut the newest pillow of them all, be it square, three cornered or round, is made ot rubier, covered as elegant- ly or simply as you please and blown up with air. It is considered a wise provision to distribute three or four of these in every .well cushioned .sofa comer and their covers are usually maile of striped brocaded Louis XVI. satin with queer little gilt dingle dan- gles at every comer. TO rREAT LIGHTNING STROKE. Prof. Oliver Lodge writes to warn the public against the notion that a light- ning stroke is nctcessarily fatal. It stops the vital organs, he tells us, but it rare- ly dp.atroys them. If respiration can be artificially maintained for a sufficient time there is a fair chance that the heart will resume its suspended action, and that the stricken man will recover. Th* practical outcome of this is never to pronounce a lightning struck mrson dead until the well known method of r«»U9citation, from drowning has (wen practi.-wd upon the apparent corjise for two or three horse. Exjwrience has iustitied this teaching both in Amer- ica and B'ranoe, wliere it has been stren- uouslv urged and practiced by Dn d'Ar- sonval. STANLEY IN AFRICA. A (Jerinan physician says that Stan- ley owe,s the fact that he has survived the must dangerous ot his African trips to his having submitted five times to ii tianstusion of Atrioan bl(Kid into his veins, which is lielieved in Africa to be a griiat aid to acclimatizattoo. INDIA'S PAEGHED FIELDS A MISSIONARY TELLS OF THE TBiR- HIBLE SITUATIOM. F«r Lack ef Bala tke Flrirt Crap* Md R«« BliM-B and Uie Byroad I'aamat ke 8awB â€"People Brraklax Into Ike VranarlMâ€" â- alB BrlBc* »nmt UrUel la Bcccaa. The American Board of Foreign Mi»< sions baa received a letter frcm the Bev. R. A. Hume, D.D., in which h« says: "The Indian Weather Bureau for©- told an inadequate rainy season thia year. The result is as foretold. From the Himalayas to Cape Comoria the rainy season has bedp inadequate. In this Ahmednagar district the earlyt rain in June and July was good, baU since JuJy there has been no rain, and now the prospeot ia that for eig-ht months more no rain wiU fall. "In consequence the first cropa have not properly ripened, and for want of later rain the .second crops cannot be even sowed in most places unless there are wells to be depended on. Even the water supply is now low. What will it be a few montlis hence t "I have been through cue famine in India, and the recollection of it is moat sad, but that was not a general, so much as a comparatively local famlna. THE COmNG FAMINE seems likely to he very general for nearly the whole population with ita 300,000,000 people. "Already grain riots are common. Grain merchants will not sell grain largely because ibey know the price will greatly increase, though even now prices are 300 per cent, above normal. So people break open grain shops and granaries, and threaten to kill the mv- chants if they interfere. They say, 'Wa have soon to die without grain. U you interfere with our getting your grain and we kill you in the struggle, we will l>e alt the same.' Similarly these people say to the police and courts, 'Arrest ua for stealing and support ua In jail. Then we shall not die from starvation.' "When quiet, orderly people ar» aroused to such acts and words, you can imagine their present conditiixi. But this Is only the beginning of our trou- bles. No seed can be sown for eight and a half months, and no grain can bo ri- pened for over ten months. What fear- lul suffering seems to l>e in store I "Already in some places parents are descning their children. In some places cattle are being sold for the value of their hides, in many places farmen forcibly drive their cattle into forest reserves, and say to forest officers, 'You may put these cattle into poundsâ€" then they will at least get fedâ€" l>ut we shaH not regard forest reguJatiims.' "The other morning, near the gate of Ahmednagar, a cart with grain waa stopped l>y hungry men, who held tha driver till some ot them had carried off the grain. For two days my ser- vants tried in vain to buy 50 cents' worih ot grain for uee. If they do this thing in the green tree, what shall ba done in tho dry ? The early part, of Oo- tolier is theorelieaUy a part of the rainy season. In ordinary years our water supply is must abundant now and the crops are at their best." To the misery that lieaota the deplet* ed granary of the East the dreadfiik plague is added. The Rev. Edward Hume writes from BumLay : "You have douljtleas heard through the papery that ltoml;«y is sufferinig from the plague. Re[)orta show that during the past week there have been nearly 800 deaths, or 50 per cent, above the normal numt:er tor this time of the year. This excess is duo to the pre- senile of tho plague, which the doctors technically call bubonic fever. The symptoms are swellings on the neck, in the armpits and groins, accompanied by fever and vomiting, and the patient pre- sents a very noticeable sad and dement- ed apiiearance. In one case which has l)een reported death took place after an illness of twenty-two hours, but in most cases the patients linger for two or three days. The authorities assure us that 60 per cent, ot the cases are fatal. Even experts cannot tell ua whence the disease came nor what the cause is. "Of course there is great excitement through the city, and the poor, ignorant Hindus are resorting to all manner of devices for averting thu culamily. They are making special offerings to the deities, are marching in proce.ssion through the city, and thronging their temples. The women are breaking off their bangles and making other sacri* ficea." HERE AT LAST. An Invenllan lo Keep aBe'* Hat Froai Blowing WIT In n tinlr. At last inventive genius baa solved the problem of how to keep your hat 00 in a gale of wind without holding on to it. Tha man, who has to go down street during a heavy blow will forev- er hold thia particular inventor in grateful rememVwamoe. The invention is simple enough in principle. A plate or clip of a suitably curvetl aihape to correspond with tho bead of the wearer is pivoted to tho edge ot the hat brim so as to project outside th? hat and come in contact and grip bho head lower down than wtere tiie hat covers. It is made of a loop on the baok.wbich engages with a wire or affa.stener, to wbicb It is pivoted and by which it ia attached to the hat. The fastener ia etamped out ot -sibn^et steel or other met- al, with projecting prongs, which are in- serted In th«( nwterial ot ^h^ hat to se- cure it firmly in position, and with a loop wibic\h p.-vsaes through the loop yt the clip and formsa pivot therefor. 'Ino loop ill the back of the clip is so placed and the clip so pivoted that when not in wear tw c!'',> or plate lies in the ivimn plane as thii brim, but when in service the upper end is brought up in- side tin hat U>.lwp«n the hat body and bat leather and the head, and the other end ia \)ressed downward liolow th'^ level ot the hilt brbn to gra-sp the heail of Ik! wearer. Thsi wires which form the pivoi may be p.i.sHCd throug'h the material and se» ttured there in a couvenieut manner.