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LORD KILLEEN'S. REVENGE, \ CHAPTER XXXri. He <mme toward her acroes the polish- •d oaken floor, strewn with Oriental ru^ and bits of sacred carpet, with a ntep swift but sulidued, nnd with an •zprMMion in his eyea that somehow ooinforted her, even whilst it drove a knife into her heart. It spoke of a nrinpathy that felt with her and for ker, and that raised from ita grave Nrain the little fragile form that had Seen to her aa her heart's blood, tt vafl the first time she had seen him ^nce the child's death, and rcmem- t>raoce was strong upon her. Yet, Ithrough all her quickened grief, she knew she was glad to see him ; there wa«! a sense of rest, of comfort in his presence. She knew that he under- stood her; that he would not mistake her forced composure for coldness ; that be could fathom the depth of her suffer- tng. and, having fathomed, would not •couse her of exaggeration in her grief. He was apart from and unlike all the others, she thoughtâ€" save, indeed, Con- •tantia, who had proved herself beyond doubt a friend. "I am glad to see you," hs said, (Tsvely. He took her extended hand, and pressed It gently. He bad consider- ed what he would say to her before com- ing in; but now all his eloquence for- gook him, as he gazed into her mourn- ful eyes, and noted, with s wondering pain, the changes that one short month of anguish had wrought upon her (ace. She was pale, hollow-eyed, hopeless. Her nights had been spent in weeping, her days in consuming regret "Grief filled the room up of her absent child," and whitened her lips, and made tremu- lous the beautiful baod that used to be •o softly firm. "You have been away," she said. "Not so far that I oould not hear of jrou. I managed to get some news every day." iILt bronzed, lean face flushed, and he looked down at bis hat. "Sad news," he said, very gently. "It is a month to-day," returned she, to/ a tone so low that he oould scarcely hear her ; and t hen all at once her for- titude forsook her, and she covered her face with her hands, and broke into bitter weeping. Before all her other visitors she had compelled herself to a calm, the strain of which upon her aching heart was terril)le : but before this man, who was, afler all. but a stranger to her, her strength failed, the tears sprung forth, and as they ran her heart was eased, her spirit knew relief. "Speak to me of it," said O'Grady, in bis musical, cultured voio«, through whicli a touch of the old ineradicabh* brogue, riili, and soft, and tender, ran nnrebuked. "Ah, what is there to say," said she. "but that I have lost my all t I am a creature bereft of every good. When last you sanv me, there was at least bope â€" a strii'ken one, tierhaps â€" but now there is nothing. " "Still tell me of it, ' he urged. "To speak will do you good. 'Give sorrow words.' They tell me you are unde- monstrative, strangely silent. Surely that is not wise." "Thev have told you more than that." Sbe lifted her large, heavy eyes to his, and looked at him fixedly. "They hBVo told you I ajn cold, unfeelingâ€" a very Ntnne I I confess that is what I have felt at time.s â€" a stone. What is there to rouse forf To show love or longing I" ".Surely there are many thingsâ€" in- ferior to that one great treasure gone, but still of use." "There is nothing," sl'.n said, stonily. "The child is dead 1" She had fallen back uncoOHcioualy into that old froz- en manner of hers, so that he was able to Judge of the apparent unconcern of whlrh nor neighbors accused her, Don- na alone excepted. Diit then h* had declined to di.scuss the matter with Mrs. Dun'las, and had openly avoided ber pretty attempts at amnesty, much to that seductive matron's amusement, an<) a little to her rha,{rin. "Who stiall forbid you to dwell up- on that sad fact T" said he. "Out I would have you regartl it in a different spirit. Surely life is not altogether barren, so entirely bereft of joy, that you should thus give up all your \»at years to a sorrow uncontrollable." "It is a simple thing to you to give advlco like thai," she said, with a faint touch of reproach in her gentle voice. "Hut youâ€" you havo noi known." "Yes, yes, I si'O. I know wliat you would say." He spoke ((uile hiim- blv now, and leani-d towaril her. "'Kvery one can nia.ster a urief Imt he that has it.' Yes, that Is I'nlirely true. But I did not come hero to trou- ble you, only to help you ; and now, almoet in the l>eginiiinK I h.ave gone completely wrong. Yet"â€" ho paused, and looked at her reflectivelyâ€" "I wrmid l>e of some grxxl to you it I could." "I know it. I know tliat," nho cried, a Utile wi'dly. "Hut who can help me? 'My grief lies all within.' It destroys me as It grows. Anil every mo- ment seems fo aild o cubit lo its Mta-t ture." She rose, and swept by him, the deep crape of her gown seeming tn add a certain intensity to her woe. She walked up and down the room in tilenc« for a minute ur two, and then Inirst forth again, as though si- lenoe was torture to herâ€" .she, who he- tore his coming had ^>lt silence her only B(«urlty. "It is all here," sh« said, stopping with some abruptness liefore him, and laying her han<r upon her heart. "Day by ilay the ache grows keener. 11 will kill me soon, 1 tni.st." "Con-slder!" he said, rising in his turn with abruptness to his feet. "You think only of your grief. There are others â€" " lie checked himself passion- ately. • "There ii no one," the said. "And (or myself I do not care. 1 have Iwen hardly used. Iâ€"" Sbe paused, and struggled with herself for composure. "I aslce<lâ€" I deman<ledâ€" Iâ€" I prayed upon my bended knees all night and bal/ my days, that that one thing should be [granted me by Heaven. That one poor little life 1 wrestled forâ€" no more, no moreâ€" but it was denied me 1 Why should 1 be thankful, grateful, as they tell me 1 should be, for life it- self, when its sweets are dragged from my very arms V She appealed to him with large, mis- erable eyes, and hands outstretched. Her heart seemed full to overflowing- O'Grady, by a gentle movement, led her to her chair and oomptdled her to re- seat herself. She was so wasted, so worn a thing that he feared excitement tor her. When he woiild have released her hand she still clung to it in girl-< ish, imploring fashion, and so he sat beside ner holding her palm in his, without a suspicion of passion, or any- thing less sad and scared than her dire affliction. < "You dwell so keenly on your own loss that you forpet her gain," he said, alluding to the little one for whom she was pining. "Is any life, even the most joyous here, so desirable a thing that you would have her quit the glories of the celestial land to join it? That pure, angelic spirit is now lieyond the reach of pain, and. grief, and disap- pointment, and care, and all the ills to which we two, and all the rest of the world, are heirs. Let her rest in her sweet peace. Do not desire her re- turn. From rapture, pure and unal- loyed, to a happiness imperfect aa ours is, even in its most perfect state, wiAild be but a poor exchange indeed." "Ah! There is truth in that," she said. Her face remained fixed in its mournful seeming, but from her sad eyea two large tears distilled them- selves and ran down her pale cheeks. Others followed them. But the angry rebellion against the powers alxjve had died from ner, and her face was soft- I ened. Then something moving him, he be- gan to speak to her, to picture to her the happy life of the child in the realm whither, as yet, she could not follow her. He was ever an earnest man who followed the right as well as in him lay, and eschewed the wrong, but it had never dawned upon him, until this hour, '.hat he had indeed a thirst for things divine. The beauty, the holiness of the unseen life had entered into him, and taken possession of him, whilst yet he lay in ignorance of it. To himself it was a marvel how he thus delineated to her the perfection of the life to come. The style, the sub- ject was foreign to him, yet he fan- cied, nay, he knew, that all he pictured he believed, and that the grandeur of the idea that the little child had reach- ed high heaven and a Father's care and love, was forever (ah, the splendor of that thought I), forever free iin<l ab- solved from earthly stain and grief, was glorious to him. Later on be smiled to himself as he recalled that hour. But the ^mile had no skepticism in it, and was born more of .'(urprise than of agnostic doubt. Just then, however, ne was not smil- inc. He had entered into her sorrow wi,.h an ocutenesa that should have warned him, and was conscious of a sen.se of triumphant relief as he saw her sad eyes clear beneath his words, and ber expression of fixed despair give way to a tender submissiim. > The twilight (loe|>ened. The perfume from the gardens Wiia wafted softly in- ward, anil from a hundred tiny nests the last sweet crooning of the birds broke forth. All spoke of rest, of peace, of joy, to be again renewedâ€" and l)ath- ed in it, the mother's heart tixik cour- age and awoke again to hope. Beyond the Iwiligh', the growing darkness, there wa.s a glorious light, where she and her little one might meet heart to heart again. O'Grady rose to bid her farewell. Now a sense of shame, of humiliation was full upon him. That he, the man' of the world, careb-ss of most things, should have dared to open out to this swe<!t saint a suggestion ot a higher life, seemed presumptuously absurd. He bent over her hand and tried to murmur something of what he felt, but she did not hear him. "You will come again," she asked, anxiously. She looked (luito Iwautiful in the dying sunset, in iier long crape roboj), with that wrapt expression on her face, and O'Gradv found himself lowering his eyes guiltily liefore hers. There was no doubt of the sin- cerity of her ilesire to see him again. To see him, however, fre- nuenlly, would in all probability be nothing to her, woubl not lead her on one pin's point lx\vond the spot on wliii'li she stood; but with him, how would it 1h!? To lie near her oflen, to grow familiar with those sweet eyes, and parted lipsâ€" lie pulled himself together with a jittle start, and took ber hand and said "Good-bye" in as orthodox a fashion as was posHible. "Thank you. I shall have few plea- sures so desiiabln as tliiM you have of. fered me," he said, smiling pleasantly. He did not hold her hand the eighth part of a minute, though he knew ho would have given ii Kood many years of his life to havy lu-ld iind kis.sed it. He got through the ordeal very well, however, and preHently found himself outside the door cTn-icious of only two thing.Mâ€" that he had not Imtrayed" him- self, and that her eyes had followed him until the portiere had hi 'den him from sight. was a sort of stimulant that set her puL-ies throbbing and her blood aflame; it redeemed the dullness of the neigh- iMirhood, and made her almost oonlunt with the emotionless life she led with Mr. Duiidas. Lately, even this plea- sure had failed her a little, and she had striven to entice it Ijack to her by play- ing for bolder and heavier stakes. As the clock chimed midnight, she rocie from the table a considerable los- er. For a respectable country-house game, the loss was indeed altogether beyond Ixmnds. She lost principally to i''eatherston, who, since that affair at the masked ball, had been, she felt, her avowed enemy. His silken manner, and the scrupulousness of his behavior ? generally, did not deceive her as to the ac.t that he had not, and never would, forgive her. Ttiat little deception alxiut the cross aa the shoulder of the domino had rankled in bis mind, and bred, and borne bitter fruit. She rose from the table this man's dela- tor to a considerable degree; she rose smiling, however, though she hardly knew now she was to pay him. To ap- peal to her husband would, of course, produce a sum required without a sec- ond's hesitationâ€" a hundred and fifty would be little or nothing to him â€" but Mr. Dimdaa had a prejudice against high play in his own nouse, and Donna felt it would be an act of folly to betray to him the fact that she, the mistress of it, had lieen the one to lead the hall in that direction. High play he abhor- red as a vulgarity, an unpardonable betise when committed beneath one's own roof. At one's, clubâ€" why, yes. In that lay all the difference: that was every man's ground, the other was his ground only â€" and hers. is unique-unpurchasedl It you posed just .so as the Giaour to some eminent artist, you would make yourself famous. Well, what is it now? You look t>i« with importance yet. Get it over, ana you will feel ever so much the lietter ">â- â-  ''•" . J .K»l. "You think the day is yours, and tbai Ita^ted" liryL^^g'ir'hat 'a" 1^? thing's that mu.t I. ^>-n and .r.ed :f over-reached T dangerotts, and that one wanted to do London thoroughly there is reason In everything." •Tutl" she answered, gayly. mere WHEN THE BIG WHEELii.tOiCE. »torrow< and llumort nfilir iMtt IcrldcM to II III »:Hrl'» « iini I. l.oiMf«». Visitors to Lomlon during ih- list two years have found that the greit wheel at Karl's Court was one o£ the you err. you. There isn't a spark of it in At this moment two or three people entered the room, and sto'id chatting together at the lower end. Mrs. Dundaa. who was equal to most emergencies, lowered her voice without a seeming effort, and l<estowed a smile on Fea- therston, warm with the kindest friend- liness. , . Featherston, however, was beyona care for the morrow. ",Teer as you will," he said, in a tone distinctly incen^eil, "I shall alwaysâ€"' "fo rave in a crowd is to feel amajl in th" morning," she put in easily, still with her charming smile. 'In spite ol you 1 liefriend you. you see." . "From this hour there is no friend- ship lietween us," returned he. \vith a frown, but his voice was lowered, and that was all she wanted. "Aa you will." she said, sweetly, smiling down a yawn very successful- ly indeed. "Ah!" as her own name came to her from a room near, "there they are, calling upon me to sing them some- , one want and those who did try it may congrat- ulate themselves that they didn't have the experience that befell st>me 4UU Merrymakers there aljout ten days ago. With its forty cars, each carrying its full compliment of pass. ugrs. th â-  liig wheel stopped suddenly. From BJi lo the evening until 1 o'clock the next afternoon most of the pass.^ng^rs were kept high up in the air. while their friends on the ground .-.h^juled encour- agement and sent up food liy means of a rope. A similar accident occurred to this wheel a year ago, and the Eng- lish newspapers dismissed it with brief mention. There was more humor than danger in the situation, and the Lon- don newspapers missed both. The ex- periences of the pasjiengers who were in the big wheel a week ago when it stopped were decidedly uncomfortable. When the cry went up, THE WHEEL HAS STOPPED!" CHAPTER XXXIII. It was close cm miilnight. Mrs Dun- daa wa.s at home to-night, anil actmsider- able (NU'tion of the county woa at home with her. Her evenings were .suffi- ciently attractive, witli the slight touch (ff foreign manner that ran through them, and the vague, delicious sense of something forbidden that lay underneath the outwiud respectability â€" and that might at any momimt break into a fuller lift â€" lo drow to her all the youn^ter portions of the commu- nity, and with them, ot course, the heads. Th<iro was always a little mu- si6 at these reunicms, very- good; there was also a little conversation, K(km1 too, though diwidedly Ixidâ€" strange para- <lox ! But ot course this Ixdonged to the tew, and the junior inemlierH know nothing ot it. There wa-s a dancing of a delightfully dtviultory sort, that ended in prolonged half hours in shady, scented (Hmservalories ; and in a couple ot snug, coxy little apartments that led off the drawing-room there were cards. A gentle manipulation on the part ot the hostess had driven all the eld- erly squires and their spouses, who were addicted to a mild whi.st with its sixpenny points into one of these rooms; the other was reserved for a livelier game, in which slie herself seldom fail- ed to take part. The excitement ot it She beat the ground a little angrily with her foot as she comprehended all this, but she smiled so sweetly as she did it that no one noticed her irritation, except Featherston. He followed her to the door, and in the vestibule beyond that led to the drawing-room, laid bis hand lightly on her arm. "A moment," he said, so delicately that it might have deceived any one save her. "As many aa you will," she said, a little sharply; sharply, too, she shook his hand from her arm. "But if you have anything to say. say it as quick- ly as may be; I am wanted in the drawing^roooi. "I am sure wherever you may lie. you are always wanted somewhere else," replied he, suavely. "Yet that fact, it appears, did not occur to you until â€" " "I found I was in a luckless vein," interrupted she, uupatiently. "Is t^>at what you would sayf Have no fear, sir." she looked at him with an inso- lence not to be surpassed, "you shall tie paid." "You mistake me," he said, with a smile that chilled her; "the debt is on my side. I owe you that which I fear I never can repay." She bit her up, and then burst out laughing. ".\h! that absurd affair about the dominoes," she cried, gayly. "Did it liurt so much, then? Was the pretty Constantia ruffled? Has she lx>en re- lentless sincef Is tlial your grievance? Truly, my dear Fe.itheraton. you must have lived in an ideal world up to this to take so much to hi-art so mild a sliug of the outrageous fortune that threat- ens us all hourly, the thought of a moment should liot so affect you." "It was the thought of muoy mo- ments. You puriMisely deceived me; you have dome mo a wrong not to 1* undone!" "How, then? If I mistake not, your impus.'iioned syllables that night were meant for me; I- did not receive them true; and if she did, why, it open- ed her eyes, that is all." "For that op.niug I have you to thank.' For the momeut his courteous calm forsook hem. and his words came with a disagrl•.^ablB forc-e from be- tween his lips, and his eyes flushed. "It was a studied deception," ho said. "You lied to me. "An ugly word, my friend," said she, with a pale smile. "it is possible you heard it before." returned he. .She made in impatient movement that lirought her more beneath the influence ot the swinging lamp that hung in the vestibule, li caught her now, and lit up her red hair into a brighter jjlory. and showed the glitter ol her lovely eyes, and the alalKistcr whiteness of her akin. Her anus were liare from the Hhoulilers, and exquisitely moliled, and the hands ola.sped beneath were oliuoh- ed angrily. "Y'ou speak to me ot morality," saitl she, in a low. mucking tone. "Youl who felt no qualms aliout making love to anolhir man's wife, even while your heart was given to a young and guile- leas girll Y'oul" She threw up her head with a si-orn unutterable. "1 de- fy any one to say I have done no fond thing in my life,"" she said, ""when can prove I have lieen the means of parting her from you. Constantia is a production of this curious uge, too un- coaumou to l» thrown away." "I understand that remark! It is one thing more to lie gratetul for. 1 have not forgotten the past that lies !«- tween us, in which you let your humor have full pluy â€" at any expense. But you went a trifle too far when you delib- erately planned to sitparate me from the only woman 1 shall over love. Y'ou thought you had me at your feet; that 1 \yus another of your fatuous slaves. bt>lieving all things, hoping all things, enduring all things, but 1 tell you"â€" â-  He puiued for a moment as though to father lireuth, and then the venuer fell roiu him, the smooth, soft accent van- ished, and he stixxl face to face with her, with venom written in open ohar- B<^ter» upon his rather low iirow. He had slipped the mask for once, and the real man, poor and splenetic, stood nakedâ€" "that never for one iu<uuentdid your image displace hers from my heart. Cimatunlia lieside you gleam- ed as a star within a cloud. Had the necessity arisen, i would at any tune have flung you aside for her; and now. by your evil muchiuations, she is lost to me." Another woman Iwneath this insult might have shown vehement displeas- ure, and so given joy to her adversary. Donna knew better. She sunk into a chair near her. and gave way to that noiseless, irritating laughter of hers. It was hardly acting on her part; she was honestly amused. The man's con- ceit was so entire; his lielief, that he was galling her by his declared prefer- ence for another, so earnest. When her silent mirth had come to an end, she sighed as if in sorrow for it. and looked up at him. to grow once more diverted- by the indignant linger on his face. "You are enchanting. You are ex- ceptional," she cried, lightly. "You should cultivate an air like that. It thing. 1 fear I have given you too jj^^j^ ^^^ thousands of people enjoy- SrrirvSJrst^ent^^il r sL^^tT'St ; in* tbe attractions ot the Entire of one thoroughly appreciatedl I must ; India exhibition and listenmg to the drag myself away. There are the ex- , bands in the brilliantly lighted gar- Igencies ot the hostess to le remember- . ^^^^ ^ ^^^^ ^.^ made from all parts ed. I have too long neglected them be- ^j ^j^^ gj,;,^^^^ to the wheel. The peo- cause," with a brilliant glance, ot . j^^j ^^^^ electric-lighted oars with you. It desolates me to leave you; yei , fj^^j^. o^^unanis halted nigh in the air. what will you? I am a slave, a cap- .j-j^^ women in them raised an outcry tivo; lieyond lie my tyrants. I ^^^ ^jj^j^ friends on the ground yelled She waved her hand airily to mm, ^^^.j^ encouragement. It was impoasi- and swept past him with a bewilder- , j^j^ ^^ repair the damage to the wheel ing glance and a deprecating shake ol I ^ ^^^^ ^^ ^ g^,^l^i (j^ lowered be- her lovely head that illustrated quite , ^^^^ daybreak, and every effort waa a poignancy of regret at having tbua , ^^^^^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ prisoners in them abruptly to relinquish the happiness ot , ^ comfortable as they could be under Iwing with him. , . „ ^ j I the circumstanct^s. The night was cool The insolence ot it all was so astound- i '^"â- ' '^""•'*"" "V ing that Featherston stood staring af- ter her, speechless, immovable. She swept by him into the next room, and from where he stood he could hear the murmur ot voices round the piano, and understood that she was lieing pressed to sing. As she did most things, she sung extremely well, with a verve, a brio, that startled when her choice ran on French ballads, and with a pathoa (that startled eveu more be<-avise so un- expected from her), strong and passion- ately tender, when she permitted her- self an Knglish or Irish .song. He knew her touch upon the piano, the few delicatelv yet firmly executed chords that preluded her song; and then her voice broke forth in a little and few of the women in the cars were provided with wraps suiwbie lo stich exposure at an altitude ot 300 feet. The restaurant attached to the exhibition was kept open all night, and to the cara to which a rope could be thrown food was sent. . ibe staff of attendants upon the wheel is compoeed in the majority of instances of old seamen. Two of these clambered 1-ound the rim of the wheel, carrving with them ropes, by means of w"hicn baskets of provisions were drawn up. The occupants of one of the cars, however, were the first to secure communication with terra firma, the re- sult of an ingenious thought ol Misa F. Uindsdale, of Chester terrace. Ihia young woman possessed a reel of cot- air she was alwurdly fond ofâ€" the words J ton_ ^qj carefully lowering it from tha half life, half glnora: joy mingled with a surely coming despair! A song one would have thought wonderfully un- suited to her! "So fulfilled with joy was she. Life was like a summer sea. So lightâ€" so treel Wintry blasts can come and go. Here are storms, and sleet, and snow, Heigho! "Sunny flowers and bird songs meet For one with love low at her feet. So fond, so sweetl Rosebuds rain-killed, die ere hlmvn. Death, as life, is lightly sown. ' We sigh! We moan! "Long she watched the summer through. Blossoms withered, song-birds flew, Eheu! Night, like day. comes soon or late; Hero, blnck-mantled. creeps dark fate; Hope is dead, now mourns its mate." She sung it in a rather whim.sical fashion, and rose laughing from the piano. She resisted their entreaties to .sing again, and passed through them with a light and playful touch here and there, disappearing from amongst them almost lx>fore they knew she was She went swiftly through the hall toward a small room that opened from it and that was half library, half bou- doir. It was an Inspiration of her own, and she delighted in it. No one en- tered it wilhitut her permission, and -• iMlcony running outside the windows of it was i-onnected with, the one that led to the dancing-room, and also with another room of h T.sâ€" one more private stillâ€" in which the last great act of her life was played. She walked swiftlv to the windows, saw that they were fast- ened, and pulled the curtains closely across them. She had nenciled a few words upon a card, ana given it to a footman, and now stood in the center of this, her favorite room, awaiting the answer to it. It came quickly. Lord Varley pushed open ti>e door, and ad-" vanoed eagerly toward her. (To Be Continued.) window of the car in which she was im- prisoned a stout string was attached. This. upon Iving drawn up, brought a rope, to which was attached a basket containing LIGHT REFRESIDIENT. The sailors already referred to after- ward ri'a bed other oicupants. althou^ some of the cara were out of their reacn, in consequence of their swinging out- ward. There were women in the cars wl»o called down frantically that the wheel must be moved because it was neces- sary for them to get home that night. Some of the.se who were imprisoned threw down messages on slips of paper to be sent to their frienils who might lie waiting for them. Several of the en- forced imprisonments might have had ' awkward sequels had not the managers of lb- wheel gladly given i^ertificatea to the effect that the liearers had passed the night iu the air liecauae of an ac- cident. The break was repaired at 1 in th« afternoon. Before that time many of the passengers had been brought down by means of chiirs attached to ropes. When the wheel was in working ordeit again the remainder ot the passengera were lil)erated. The I.ondon newspapers refer to the "generosity" of the man- agement in providing a breakfast tor these passengers after they got back to earth. A THOUGHTFUI '.VIPE. The young physician was tired' when he returned from his evening's calls, but as he settled back in his easy chair, and his pretty wife of only a month or two took a seat lieaide him, be asked affectionately; "And has my little wife been lonely f" "Oh, no," she said animatedly ; "at least, not very. I've found something to busv myself with." "Inil'eedf" he said. "What ia it?" '"Oh, Vm organizing a class. A lot of young girls and nuirried women are in It, and we're exchanging experiences and teiu^hing each other how to conk." "What do you do with the things you cook?" he a.sked intereete<Uy. "Oh, we send them to the neighbors just to show what we can do. "There's one lodging house geta most of it. It's great fun." "Dear little woman."' he said, leaning over and kissing her. "Always thought- ful ol your hiislxuid's practice. Al- ways anxlouB to extend It." IN NO DANGER. Mra Minks (severely)â€" "George, there ia an account in the pafier aUiut a bus- iness man leaving his wife and running off with a pretty type-writer girl." . Mr. Minksâ€" "Indeed."" "Yea and it's the third account of the kind I've seen this week." "That doesn't interest me." "It does me. You have a pretty type- writer girl in your office." "No, we haven"t. My partner eloped with her last week." * PEARLS OF TRUTH. The heart that has once lieen bath- ed in love's pure fountain retains tbe pulse of youth forever.- Landor. Cowardice is not synonymous with firudence. It often happens that the letter part ot discretion is valor.â€" Hazlitt. Those who are formed to win gen- eral admiration are seldom calculated to Ix'stow individual happiness.â€" Lady Blessington. Never write anything that does not give you great pleasure; emotion is eas- ily propagated from the writer to the reaaer.â€" Jouliert. Kind words prevent a good deal ot that pr>versi'ness which rough and im- perious usage often produces in gener- ous minds.â€" Locke. For the infinite has sowed his namo in the lessons in burning stars, but on eart h he has st»wed his name iu tender flowers.â€" Richter. The universal and a)>8olute law la that natural justice which can not ba written down, l»ut which a^ipeals to tha hearts of all.â€" Victor Cousin. Many t>ooks require, no thought from those who read them, and for « simpla reasonâ€" thev made no such demand up- on those who wrote them.â€" Colton. When all is summed up a man never speaks of himself without loss; his ao- cusalions of himself are always believ- ed, bis praises never.â€" Montaigne. I never drink. I can not do it on equal terms with others. It costs them only one day, but me threeâ€" the first in sinning, the second in suffering, and tha third in repenting.â€" Sterne. To lie idle and to be poor have al- ways lieen reproaches; anfl therefore ev- ery man endeavors with his utmost car* to hide his poverty from others and hla idleness from biraselt.â€" Johnson. A POOR BOARDING-HOUSE. Miss de Pink â€" "I will be so gladwbea George and 1 are married, and he can have a home of his own," F'riendâ€" "He IxMurds now, I suppose." ""Yes, and such a. time as he must have. Even their coffee can't lie any- thing but hot water and burnt peaa because be has to chew real -wftee haU I the time to make no." >/! t •V- --*. I I W* ;S1!4lK"«''