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t DARE HE? OR, A SAD LIFE STORY ♦O^CH-04 0»0>0*'0*^>0»K>»K>O.H>*^> :>*-CH»ox>K»04^4K»- â- p CHAl'TER I. "If you will allow nie, I shall have the pleasure of reacUnt; aloud to you some pussugea from 'Mis. Lirripera Lodgings,' by Charles Dickms. I do not know much about tht; buuk niy-"i'?"i as I have never read it. I dure.say that you know more about it lliun 1 do ; but I am given to undorsland" (witli a glance ut the page before him) "that Mrs. Lirriper was a lodying-house keeper, tliat she kept lodgings in Lon- don. She was a very good sort of wo- man. I believe" (anulhi'r hii-sl.v glunue). "but .she sometimes had Iroubli; with lior servnnls. I am (old that servants are troublesome somelinies" (a slight ner- vous laugh, the more nervous because it does not seem to be followed by any echo from the audience). "11 you will allow me, then, as 1 say, and if you think it will amuse you. 1 will read you a little of what she suys about these troubles." The foregoing remarks are ulterod in a loud, shy, dogged voice by James Burgoyne, to the "O.xford Women's Provident Association." His voice is loud because, being quite unused to public reading, he does not know how to modulate it; it is shy, from the same cause of unaccuslomedness; it is dog- ged becau.se he is very much displeased with his present occupation, and has not been successful in concealing that displeasure. When a man runs down to Oxford for a couple of nights, to see how the six yours that have pt.^sed since he turned his undergraduate back upon the old place have treated her â€" runs down to a college chum unseen (or lite same si.\ years â€" this is certainly not Ihe way in which he expects to spend one of his two evenings. "I hope you will not mind, Jim" â€" ominous phraseâ€" the college friend has said; "but I am afraid we shall have to turn out for half an hour after dinner. It is rather a nuisance, particularly as it is such a wet night; but Ihe fact is, I have ppomise<i to read to the 'Oxford Women's Provident Association.' Ah, by-lho-bye. that is new since you were hereâ€" we had no Provident Women in your day I" "On the other -and, we had a great many improvident men," returns Jim dryly. "Well, the fact is, my wife is en the committee, and a good deal interested in it, and we give them a sort of entor- tainmnnt once a month through the winter termsâ€" tea and l'«uns, lliat Umd of thing, sixpence a head; they enjoy it far more than if we gave it Ihcm for nothing; and after tea we gel people to recite and read and sing to them. I am sure I wish them joy of my reading to- night, lor I do n(jt see how 1 am to make myself audible; I am as hoarse as a cinw." "I know those Oxford colds of old," returns Burgoyne with that lomperale compassion in his voice which we accord to our neighbor's minor diseases. He is sorry that his friend has a cold; but ho little knows how much sorrier he will be in the course of Ihe next hour, as he adds, "Do not distress youi-self about mo. I shall be quite happy in your den with a book and a cigarette. Mrs. Brt)wn docs not object, docs she? And 1 daresay you will not be very long away." As he speaks he realizas. with a sort of pang-lhe pang we pay somelimes to our dead pastsâ€" thai, though it is only three hours since he was reunited to his once inseparable P.rown, he is al- ready looking forward with relief to the prosixjcl of un hour's freedom from his sociely-so terribly far apart is it po.<!- sible to grow in six years. But. before his half-nedged Ihoughl hu.'i had time to do more than traverse his l^rain. Brown has broken into it with Ihe enger re- monstrances of a mistaken species of hospitality. | "Leave you behind? ('ould not hoar 1 of such a thing! Of coiiise you must como tool It will be a n> w experience | for you, a wholesome chnnge. Ha ! ha ! | and we can talk all the vv;iy Uieie ami ! back; we have had no lalli winlli speak- ing of yet." I Again it flashes acro.'^s Ihe olhersi mind, with the same pensive regret as ' before, that talk worth .s|)eiiking of is | forever over between them; but, seeing; that furlher attempts at cvn.sian will seriously hurt the good-nalured Brown, | he acquiesces, with a.s fair a grace as he j may. While pulling on his own mackintosh. he watches, with a suLdiied wuiider, his friend winding himself into !i huge white woollen comforter, and .â- ^lopping into a pair of goloshes (he liiul lieen ralhcP a smart undergniduate in his da.v). while out-sido the opened hull dnor the ruin is hcai-d to swish, and llie wuid to bellow. "Hod not we bolter have a hun.som '/" suggests Burgoyne, bli.Mking. as Iho <lnnl gusls sends two or three sihiging dro|*s into his eyes. "A hansom 1 non.sen.so !" returns tlie olher. laughing, and wilh (li/liciilly un- furling an uml>rolla in the teeth of Ihe bla-l. ""â-  i** a" ^"'"y ^^'i'" '"'" â- * hloateil buchelor like you ; but a man whose family is increasing at the rate mine is cannot afford himself such luxuries ; come along, you are not sugar or salt." Burgijyiie feels that at this moment lie can at all events conscientiously dis- claim ufUnily v/ith the llrst of the two. it is indeed a wet night, wet us the one immortalized by Bmwiiing in "Clirislmus live and Easter Day ;" and who ever brougtit a wet night and wet umbrellas "wry and Hupping" su pierc- ingly home to us us he? 'I'he talk so cheerfully promised by liurgoyiie's san- guine friend is rendered absolutely im- pos-sible by the riot of the elements. It is a good step from the suburban villa, which is the scene of Brown's married joys, to Ihe room in the heart of the town wliere the Provident Matrons holil their sabbat; and by the lime that the two men have reached tliut room'lhere is, despite his muekinlosh, little of Bur- goyno left dry crxcept his speech. They are under sheller at last, however, huve entered the building, udilcd their um- brellas to many other streaming wrecks of whalebone huddled in a cmner. and exchanged the dark blusleriiig drench tor « (lure of gas, a reel; (jf l>'a. and a sultry slieani of wet cliilhes ami huiiiuiiity. The tea indeed is a thing 1 f tlie pastâ€" all its apparatus has bei;n re- moved. The rows of cliuiis are all .set to face the plalform, and on tliose chairs the Provident Wonten sit, smiling if dainp. v.illi here and there a little boy, evidently too wicked lo be left at home, comfortably wedged between a couple of matronly llgures. The enlerlainmcnt has ulrendy begun, and an undergraduateâ€" damp, like every one elseâ€" is singing, in a boom- ing ba.ss voice, sometlung of a vaguely boastful nature about what he once did "In Bilboa's Bay." Burgoyne has for a moment lost sight of his chapenm. and remains standing near ttie door, look- ing upon the scene around him wilh an eye from which philanthropy is all too criniiiially ab.senl. .About him are grouped a few ladies and genllonienâ€" more of the former than the latter- who are obviously about lo give their services, judgin,-? by their rolls of mu- sic nnd the books in their hands. 1113 look passes over them indifferenllyâ€" he has no acquaintance among Ihein. He had never known many of the Oxford householders, and there is no place where a man becomes .-.uiiorannuaied after so short a lapse of .veurs. Here are now arrivals. Ho turns his head mechanically as the opening door reveals Ihe advent of more unibrellaed and mackintoshed walerfulls. Two men and a lady. As his eye alights on the woman, he does not st;n we Anglo- Saxons are not apt to 1.. ' e our slow grave bodies the indexi'- 'f our emo- tionsâ€"but he is conscious of an odd and puzzling sensation. Where has he seen that face before? "Bilboa's Bay" has come lo an end without his perceiving it. He is pulling his memory through her puces, trying lo find some niche in his three hupr)y Oxford years in which to ])lace that sliungely known yet unknown figure. Thi^re is no such niche. It is not an Ox- ford memory at all. What is it then ? .\n earlier or a later one? His eye- brows are drawn together in the effort of recollection, making him look, if po.ssihie, crosser than before, when he is made aware of Ihe return of Brown by llndi;ig his arm seized, and his frienil's voiceâ€" a good deal hooi'scr even than when they left homoâ€" in his oar, "Jim. do you feel inclined to do a very good-nntured thing f "Not in the least," replies Burgoyne promptly; "'I any one wishes lo borrow .£5 [roin me, I should advise him lo choose a moment when I am drier about the legs." Burgoyne has very often sluod up to and over bis kiu^N in water for hours, wiilching fur ilucks among whistling reeds on winter mornings, and never thought himself at all to .)e pilied; but he is Ihoronglily vexed now at his nioisl trousers. Brown, however, is not so easily rebuffed. "I .should be awfully obliged lo you.*' he sa.vs croakily; "you would he laying me under a very real obligation if you would- " He slops lo cough. "If I would what?" returns the olher ciirlly. and looking apprehensively at a t)ook w hich Brown is expanding before his eyes. "If you would road instead of me." "I I" "Why. Ihe fact is"â€" coughing noisily a,uain as if to show that there is no im- po.silioiiâ€" "I suppose Iho fog i:)usl have got down my Ihroal; but 1 find 1 can- not speak alx)ve a whisper. I should not be. heard beyond the front row; come, old man. do a good-natured thing for once in your life. " There is a poiuie; Burgoyne is not very fond of being asked to do a good- naliired Ihiiig. He can do a big one every now and then, but he is not pur- lieularly fond of being asked to do a small one. ".Surely there must be many people here much belter suited for it I ban I am," he sa.vs presently, looking iin- cumforlably around in scaiuh of U10 little group of booked and niusicked persons whom he had .icen but now standing near him, but 11 had melted. 'That is just what there are not," re- joins Brown, pressing his p(jint with Ihe more eagerness, as he thinks he sees signs of yielding; "we are very short of hands to-night, and my wife has just heard tliat the girl upon whom she was counting for a couple of songs is in bed with influenza." "Happy girl ! I wish I too was in bed with influenza," says Jim sardonically, for he sees his fate about to overtake him. And so it comes to pass that, five min- utes laler, as described at the opening of this ciiapter, he is seated on the plat- form with "Mrs. Liraper's Lodgings" before him, rows of Provident Matrons' eyes fastened expectantly upon him, and horrid qualms of strange shyness rac- ing over him. Brown has indicated by a dog's ear llie page at which he is to begin; so he is spared indecision on this head. But has Brown indicated Ihe page at which he is to slop ? He is gnawed by a keen anxiety as lo this point all through his peiformance. It is hot upon the plal- r*'m. the smell of lea polent, and the naked gas-jels close above his head throw an ugly yellow glare upon his book. Having offered his prefatory observa- tions in the manner I !ui\e indicated, ho rushes in medios res. "Girls, as I was beginning lo remark, are one of your (Irst and your lasting troubles, being like your teeth, which begin wilh con- vulsions, and never cease tormenlinjj .V"u from the time you cut them till Ihey cut you. and llicn you do not want to pari wilh them, which .seems hard, but we must all succMinb. or buy orliliciul." (Do his ears deceive him ? Is there al- ready a slight titter? Have the simile of Ihe convulsions and the nece.ssily for a nitelier alri'udy struck a chord in the matrons' breasts'.') ".\iid, even where you get a will, nine times oul of len you get Q diiiy face wilh it. and natur- ally lodgers do not like good society to be sliown in wilh a smear of black across the nose, or a smudgy eyebrow !' (Is he managing his voice right? Is he mumbling or is he bellowing? He ralher inclines lo be suspicious of the latter. Why did not Uiey laugh at the "smudgy eyebrow'?" They ought lo have done so, and he had paused lo give them the opporlunily. Perhaps it is among them loo familiar a phenom- enon to provoke mirlti.) "Where Ihey pick Ihe black up is a mystery I cannot .solve, as in the case of the willingost girl that ever came into a house, half- starved, poor Ihing; a giil so willing that 1 called her 'Willing Sophy :' down upon her knees scrubbing early and late, and ever cheerful, but alwa.cs wilh a black face. And I says to Sophy, 'Now, Sophy, my good. girl, have a regular day for your stoves, and do not brush your hair wilh the bottoms of the saucepans, and do nol meddle wilh the .snuffs of He eanclles, and it stands to reason llial il cannot be.'" (Ah! what welcome sound is this? "Willing .Sophv" has produced an undoiibled giggle, which Burgoyne hears spreading and widening Ihrough the room. Heartened by I his indication, he goes on in a more emphatic and hilarious voice:) "Yet there it was. and always on her nose, which, turning up. and being broad on the end, seemed lo boast of il. and cau.-^ed warning from a steady geiilleman, an excellent lodger, wilh breakfast by the week." There can be no mistake about il now; Iho giggle has changed into a universal, resonant laugh, which goes on swelling and ri.sing, until, in Hie llnul roar of ap- pCobalion which greets the concluding paragraph, the reader's voice is drowned. The matrons have all along been ready to be amused; it is only that, owing lo the gravity of his face and solemnily of his manner, it was sonu- lime befoi-e they recognized that his eii- lenlion was comic. As soon as Ihey do so, they rewarded Ihal inlenlion wilh more than aileipiale mirth. Burgoyne has reached Ihe M'cond dog's ear, Iliat (log's ear which his eye has been earnoslly .searching for throughout. His task then is ended. He heaves a deep sigh of relief, and, wiUi a relleclion that, after all, he is glud he was obliging, is prepiiiing to shut the volume, when he feels Ihe inevitable Brown's hand on his shoulder, and his husky voice in his car. "Capital I you got on capitally ! Could nol he belter; but you will not mind go- ing on a liltle longer, will you? Vou have only read for ten minutes. I want you to Iry somclhing different Ibis time â€"a liltle pathos, tor a change. I have marked the page. Heiv 1 " What is there to do but acquiesce? Burgoyne. complying, finds himself at once in Ihe middle u( a melancholy lale of a poor young woman left ruined and descried in Mrs. l.frriper's Lodgings, and onlv rescued from suicide by Iho cfforls of that g.iod lady, who, how- ever, is unnble to .save her from a tra- gic and premaluie deulh. The reader lias reached Ihe point at which Mrs. Lirriper has met Iho poor creulure on her wav to the river. "'Mrs". Edson. I sa.vs, my dear, lake cnre! However did you lose your way, and stumble in dangerous place like this? No wonder you're lost, I'm .sure.' " What is this sound ? Is it pos- sible Ihal the giggle is rising again? Iho giggle which ho was so glad to welcome a while ago. but which is so (lisnslrously oul l f place -here. He re- doubles his offoils to !iul an unmistak- ably .serious and pnlhelic lone inin his voice.) ".'^he was all in a shiver, and she .so continued till I laid her on her own bed, and up lo the early morning she held me by Hie hand and nioanod. and moaned. 'Oh, wicktvl. wirketl. wicked ! What cnn the PnividenI Mnlrons be made of? They nie l!iin.'hiiig uiire- slraiiiedly. Too lale Burgoyne ixaii>;e.< that he bad not made it suincienlly clear ihal his intention is no longer comic. The idea of his being a funny man has .so finu'.y rooted itself in his hearer's minds, llmt nothing can now dislodge il. Such being the case he feels that the best Ihiiig he can do is to reach the end as quickly as possible. He begins to read very fust, which is taken for a new stroke of faceliousness, the result of wliich is that Uie last sigh of the poor young would-be suicide is drowned in a slonn of hilarity even heartier and more prolonged than that which greeted "Willing Sophy's" smudged nose. In much confusion, greatly abashed by the honors so mis- takenly heaped upon him, Burgoyne hastily loaves the platform. Twenty thousand Browns shall nol keep him there 1 (To be continued). POKSON IN THE POT. Some Nations Arc Ituincd By Nature's Bounty. It is a most peculiar fact that the very food upon which a whole nation has come to subsist sometimes proves Ihe bane and eventual destruction of that country. Look at Ireland and the ptita- to 1 The Irish nation learnt to Uve upon the potato, growing the tubers in such enormous abundance that a very small acreage was sullicient to keep a whole family in food. Living, in fact, became loo easy. Besides, the polulo is nol a complel* food. It weakened the phy- sique of Ihe Irishman. When the potato disease made its sudden api)euruiice, and blackened and deslroyed Ihe crops of the whole island, the people had noltiing else !o fall back upon. riie result was Ihe ghastly fa- mine wuich killed directly or indirectly nearly a million persons, and from which the (Jreen Isle has never lo Ihis day recovered. In much the same way the yam or sweet potato is destroying the negro race in the .Southern .Stales of .Xmerica. The yam grows so easily Ihal a half- acre pnlch. wilh a little fl.sh and bacon, will fei^l a family for a year. Conse- quently, Sambo wiui't work, and after a time all ambition will di.->appcar. and Ihe colored man of the South will sink to a lower level than he bus at present reached. The banana has done much harm in Central America in exactly Ihe same way. Wlieii a man has nothing to do but scratch a tew holes and plant slips of bananas which go on growing and bearing year after year, it is only natural tliat he takes life a great deal loo easily for either his own or his Country's good. In Corfu the staple food of the island- ers ia maize, which Ihey frequently gather before it is ripe, and which is carelessly stored in damp cellars. Consequently, the death-rule rom Ihal horrible disea.se. "pelliigra," is terrible. .Science has delinilely proved Ihal pel- 'igra is due to eating damaged maize. The disease begins by a peculiar rash which appears in the spring, and which it is almost impossible lo cure. Wilh each successive spring it returns wilh increa.sed virulence, until the patient's whole skin turns yellow, or even black. Tlio nervous syslom is deslroyed. and evcniually the" unhappy sufferer be- comes delirious, mud. and eventually dies. At one time pellagra was the curse of Northern Italy, but great, and lo .some ex lent succos-sful efforls have been made lo .slamp it out and li!ach the jieoplo iu)l lo live on maize only. Sleeping sickness has for cenluries ravaged Burmah and olher hot coun- tries "where rice is Ihe staple food. 11 is now doaiiinlcly ascerlnined thai this lenihle disease is caused by feeding ui>on damaged rice. It was once epi- demic in the Japanese army, but has been enliiHJly got rid of by a change of di'-'l- . .„ . In North •ni India n .--orl of millet. which is Ihe chief food of some million.* of iialivps. has had the effect of sleadily diminishing Hie population. There is .some obscure poi.-on in this grain which causes a peculiar disease. Professor Dimslan. of the Imperial liislitule, tias been conducting re^euiches into tb» nature of this poison. It is more than probable that future genoralions will Inithfiilly declare Ihut while bread has been the ruin of.. Ihe F.iigiK,.! people. Our teelli aie going rapidlv, and it is more than siuspecled thai ihe cause is the sleol roller mill white Hour which has been subslituted for Ihe good old-fashioned "focond-s" 0/ former days. ENGLISH TIPPING HABIT EM1>IA)YKE.S OF HOTKLS AND IIAIL. WAYS .UUE L.NUEItFAIO. American Tourist Writes a Sctubing Indiclmcnt to a London Paper. An impressive letter, in which the syslein of giving and receiving "tips" is criticised as debusing in its nature, lias been wrillen to the London Daily .Vluil by un ."Vmericau tourist, Mr. M. F. Steele, from Liverpool, on the eve of his return lo Hie United States. He says: The average American "tiiiis," bul he has a profound contempt for any grown and able-bodied man ur woman who accepts a "lip," and he despises a con- diliou of society and business which al- Iowa hotel proiirietors and railway and other companies to count upon the "tips" of their patrons to supplement the wages of their undeipaid servants to a living scale. In Americn the only able-bodied men wJio are liabilually "lipped" are the waiters in hotels and restaurants. The first are, wilhout exception, negroes, and the second are either negroes or foreigner.s. A "tip" offered to a native- born white American railway or other employe for a simple performance ol Ins duly or u mere act of courtesy would be refused wilh scorn. PETTY BRIBES. How different here; it has been re- marked that everyone in England be- low Ib.e rank of a lord or a bishop will accept a tip. .My short experience jiret- ty nearly conlirniB the remark. I have handed a "tip' to every peison who has done nie the slightest service or an- swered an inquiry, and in nol a single inslunce has my "tip" been declined or been unexpected. II seems to me Ihut the average Eng- lishman carries his hand back down, cupped and in position to receive "tips," and 1 eannot believe Ihal any person who can bring hira.s<df lo accept a "tip" has any sense of pride or self-respect. fn Ameiica the "tip" is regarded both by Ihe giver and the nxoiver as a pet- ty bribe. In its most Innocent aspect, il is a bribe for more or heller atten- tion Hian title servant is paid for by his employer; or for a special sei-vice not accorded lo olher palrons. Undoubted-- ly a large class of Americans, especially lho.se of Iho nouveau riche order, is striving to introduce the despicable practice of geaeial "lipping" into Amer- ica; and already it is nntniioiis that .some New York roslaurunt keepers have tak- en advantage of the practice to reduce Ihe wages of their waiters below the- living .scale. DIVIDES CASTE. If Iho praclico ever becomes general in America it will fix Ihe division of c.isle there as rigidly as il is fixed in England fo-day. and it will no longer he possible for such men as .\iidrew Jack.-^on. .\nf1i'ew Johnson. ,\l)r;i!iam Lincoln nnd Andrwv Cainogie to ri.se from Ihe lowest istralum lo Ihe highest positions in the land. .\ man must (ii.st poss.-ss self-respect before he can comrnand the respect of olhcrs; no man ertn posse,s.s his own re- spect who has aceeplod Ihe petly brib- ery of a "lip," Every Aiiiericiin of breadlh and educa. lion wunLs to come lo ICnglnnd In .see the wonders of Ihe past age and life, ol whidi we cnn never hnvo a rounlor- part in our iinlry T'-ih-o are few modern things Ihnt an A;?::-.iran wants I' see in England- -the best ho finds are Importations fi'oin ,\inerica; he wants to see your old easllos nnd your ca- Ihedrals, relics of an age of reliuicius .suiters! ition and civil va.ssaiage. Every .Ainwiean who can spa(re enough or save enough money for (ho journoy comes lo see th&io things; nnd ho is wii- ling In .suffer considerable inconveni- ence and discomfort in order fo come. CdJ-cy* Mis. Elynn- There you goâ€" lendin" 01 lagan fi;i\e dollar after always soy- i't' you'd never llâ- u^l a mon wid black hair and a red musliiche. Ml'. Flynn- "Is .ill right, duiiint. Oi n-ntin hni .s,hf(\o it off lioforc Oi liunded o.cr Uic liiijiiey,â€" Life. DESERVEO TO SUCCEED. ,\ lale matrimonial engagement is said to be the outcome of a daring lilllc piece of rcpurtce on the pari of a young woman who has enjoyed Ihe repulution ol being not only a wit, but a beuuly and belle as well. Although' quite young, she was known lo have declined the honor of matrinioninl alliance with several ,so-cnlled "catches," and it be- gan at lust !o he ruiiiored Ihal her mind and heart were .set on one of her ad- mirers who hud nol ;is yet Ihe temerity to conic to Ihe point. However Ihal may be, Ihe young mon in question was lier jtarlner in an as- sembly, and during the iiihM-mis.siun for supper was sealed willi her in a se((ueslered nook, "far from Ihe iiiad- dliig crowd.' \;i'i..os of .^omelliing Ihnl had bci 11 said, lie uskeil lier luugh- ingiy if llie i-enui'l w lii Iri^e '. t<.:'' she hnd refused all Hie elig'M ; ;:ien in her set. .She blusheil vividly for a niomeiil. Ihcn suddenly raised her head, looked him full ill Ihe iiico, and said, jioinledly :~ "Vis. it is trueâ€" present company ex- cepted. '" it is, poihnps. needless lo slate Ihal Ihey remained in Hu: "si^picslered nooU" Some liiiio. Ituiiior also has it Ihut Ihe above conver.si.llon was overheard by Olio of Ihe discarded sudors, who forlh- wilh "gave it away." Iliiwkshaw Hnhno- : "1 wish to ba vaecinaled." Di.sijon.'-nry Surgeon • "Wliiil'.s your husiiu.s?" Hawk-^lmw Holmes: "I'm a drtwiive.'' Dispensary Surgeon : "SiUiid oui â- â- :' jiii.- <ine, please, and give isoinei.ody el .• n pl(K!c. Tliefp's no (hiuger of your ever calcbiiig anylliing."