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-0 ObHENS ANDJHEIR WARS. THE REICH OF VICTORIA ONE OF COMPARATIVE PEACE- Tk« rrmtl »my» •! KlluWth •â- <• A*utâ€" B«lh Wcrr Wma af War-« aliiarliie II. •r BbmU Kxl«Bdrd Her Vawlnlauii Bt â- W«r-»p»l» l» l>.«brll«'» Tlmf-Kni- prrM Eagrulr aud tbr Frnnra-rraMtaa War. The reign of Queen Victoria, now drawing near the cGose of its sixtieth jear, were it in su other respect re- uarkabile, would, ou account of its ex- treme length •tlooe, take a notable place in hixtory. Length of dayg is no more aiiauriMl to the King than to the subject, and when men now ad- Ta<iced in years remember that they ctLO not recall the time when Victoria wa« not ruling over the British Em- pire they may welil be excused for re- garding a reign of this length an quite iihenomenal. So it is. for, save in the mythicaJ annals of the Chinese, history records few instances of a longer lease of power, while in Beveral of these, large deducliuus must be m<ide on ac- count of the tender age o£ the sov- ereign at auceeeion, so that, consider- ed from all points of view, the pre»fiii occupant of the British throne has pro- bably held the reins longer than any ruler since the authentic annals of hi- man history began. If, however, the period tof Victoria be reckoned by achievements, U, aa Sheridan says, "A life spejjt worthily should be measur- ed by deedu, not years," Victoria has reigned lunger than Methuselah lived. Art and science and industry stood still during the nine centuries ut life accord- ed to the patriarch of the desert ; he ate the same kind of food, lived in the auat style of tent, plowed his groimd with the sanu! model of plow, when he was 900 a« when he was 90, while with Victoria, the world has advanced a century with every decade. When Queen Victoria ascended the thrftne ih« railroad and the steanisbi were in their infancy, the daguerreo- type bad juitt coiue ; the telegraph and the telephone, the typewriter and the reaper, the oceaji cable, the sewing ma- chine aud the repeating gun, were of the future. Of the names now iden- tified with the art, the science, the literature, the poetry of the present day. hardly oine was known. In the year when Victoria was proclaimed, Cbauiles CBjwin was a young man of 20, and had Just begun those otraerva- tlons which are recorded in his won- derful books; Huxley was a boy of 12; Tyndall was a youth of 17 ; Mill an al- most unknown man o( 31 ; tipencer was the same age as Tynduil ; IHckens was a local reporter of ai; George Eliot, a girl of 18, at school in Nuneaton; Tennyson was 28, and unknown save by a little volume of not the very best poetry ; and Edison, Tesia and most of the other great bpecialists in eleo- tjicity were not yet born. Remove these and their co-laborers from the field of action and the shadow on the dial of time might Just as easily lie turned back a titousund years as a hundred, for they and men like them represent most that constitutes the dif- ference between uioilern and ancient life. To say that (Jueeii Victoria has ruled ever since the Middle Ages ap- pears at first glance an unscrupuluusfy bold Blalemenl, but when the crown was fiist placed on her head the life of her dav bore a greiiter re.seuiblance to that of the fourteenth that that which according to our ideas, is peculiar to thfi close of the niuelrrnth century. Wonderful for its length alone, the reign of I lit present sovereign oi' Great Ili'iLain is remarkable lor anothii fea- ture In which if bears exceedingly favorul>!e conipari>iion wiili that of al- most any other Queen Itegnant who ever held a sceptei. The old adage ooncerning the Kood fdrlune of a na- tion whoae annals are lull, dates feom a tiiue when the quarr«,.s of kings and th« shocks of hostile ranks were the . only topics deemed wonhy of the histo- rian's notice. Only in our own time haj* the historical writer learned that the story of peoue ia o( more thrilling interest than the narrative of war. It •was eleven years after the coronation of Victoria before Alncauiay's volumes Durposing to narrate the history of the English people instead of the English kijigK and armies, came from the press, and there is no doubt a historian of the old achoul, sitting do\.n to write of the Victoria era, would have found himself greatly bumpered from lack of material, l-'or in all lliese ycar.M, cov- ering two average lifetiiue.s, the peo- ple of England have been engaged in but one great foreign war, the war with KuBsia, in 18.')5, and it was fought at so great a aislance (nini the island that, save from the papers, little was heard of it in fiigland. Telty con- test s were numerous. There have been •ULall wars waged iu Asia, Africa and America, (here was a mutiny among the Indian troops in 18.'i7, hut of actual oonflict the island has seen nothing; not even the bouiu ol a hou'lile gun has disturbed the i^iumiercial and industrial pruaress of the Kiigli.>ih people. That the reign of a Queen should lie an era of peace seems at first glance en- tirely natural and altogether to be ex- pected. Women are averse to war, and abtuir the sight of likiod. They are the principal losers when regiments are decimated in bailie, fur it is easier to die than to live when those we love are itZi. »_D<J thev themselves see nothing va the future [iut lonei.ness, misery unci w^nt. Hut it is a&inguier fact that while the woman may shudder at the sight of a dra'>vn sword and feitl' to touch the trigger of a pistol, the sover- eign can, wit hour, conioum.liou or re- morse, set the drums in beating and the regiments to manhiiig, und the guns to beilowing as a matter of course and without apparent reflection <in the gravity of the act. Thus it is tha reigns of fenune rulers have, almosti as a rule, been (lennds of warlike wn- (Uot, and the fuel is, sn strange that there is ^o little difficulty in accannt- in^ for it. It may be that the spirit of ohLvalrous daring is mure active during the reign of a Queen than a King; that personal likes and dislikes, more potent with women 'than with men, have somethijig to do with the matter; that ambition once aroused, is more feverish, that luat of power is less scru- fiulous in selecting means for its grati- ication ; but each of these considera- tions has its difficulties, so that while the fact is clear, the reason for the fact must be left where it was foundâ€" in the dark There were two rojal predecessors of Victoria who as well deserve the title of "bloody" as a prefix to their names as the third who received! t. Mary Tu- dor followed the examp le of her much- married lather in puttlnsr people to death for their religious hcTief, but so, for that matter, did every other sover- eign of those times, for the stake and the baiter, the branding irons and the bdock were then vuliJ arguments io religious and political controversy, every inJer takiog the ground that hia views were so olrviouaily unimpeachable that those who dilfered ought to be hanged or beheaded for their stupidity if for nothinj? else. But the 73,000 ex- ecutions during the reign of Hizabeth, most of tlem fur offenses that would now be punished with u month in the work houstt, are u frightful reminder of the savagery ol those cruel days. Aside from the hangings and drawings and quBj-terlngs aud other brutal pun- ishments, ainaosr as common when Anne was on the throne as when Elizalieth ruled, both reigns were rendered nota- ble by great foreign conflicts. Eliza- beth, as well as Anne, was fond of war. When the Spanish Armada was expect- ed on the SLUth coasts, Elizabeth went to the Tilbury cunp, mounted a horse, paraded up ard down before the troops and thoioughiy enjoye'l the texcite- ment and the roars that went up in ad- miration of her bravery. When MarU borougli was waging tne war of the Spanish succcssiou, Anne was doing Fiizabeth's act in London to encour- age the reglmeuts about to leave for the war. No reader of English his- tory needs to be told of the result in either case, for, although Elizabeth's subjects were not overfond of her, and Anna wan generally known among her people as "Brandy Nau," from her fav- orite tipple, yet the troops were un- doubtedly inqiircd by the military bear- ing of the royal ladies, and thrashed the Siianiar<ts ill the channel and the French at Blenheim, happy in the be- lief that they were pleasing their sov- ereign. The Ellizaliethan trick of galloping about on horscAiuck in order to stimu- late the fervor of an army was prac- ticed with surcees by the famous Maria Theresa. She was not to blame fur the faot that her reign was one long war, as the conflicts of her day were not of her makuig. The most florid, if not the most reTiahle. of English his- torians has graphically told the story of the treacmery of 1-rederick, of his preparations for ^var while warmly proiesHLng his desire for peace, of the stealthy march into .SiLesia, bow the continent ifirang to arms to tear in pieces the Austrian dominions, and DOW the war spread over the world and raged iu countries where the principals la the strife were absoltiiely unknown. Looked at aright, however, the grand figure in the Titanic .struggle was not the treacherous Frederick, but the her- oic Maria. Abandoned by allies, out- numbered by enemies, with all Europe against her. unable, ns she said, to trust even her chamberlains, lest French or Prussian spies should be of their num- ber, not once did she flinch nor lose courage, aod when she rode up the Mount of Defiance and shook the im- perial sword of state toward the four points of the compass, challenging tha world to quisticn her rights to throne and d<miinions, no n under the fiery Huns shrieke<l their readiness to die for her and her cause. vAnd so they did, for Hungarian bones were left to bdeach odi every battle-field of the sev- en years' war, and.thus they saved the empire. There was u not her Eimpress, miscalled the (Ireat, Catharine II., of Kiusia, who Ijad no wars forced on her, but who had a sort of prelernatur.al knack of picking a quarrel and forcing a war on everyliody else. .She had three liel- licose female predercdsors on the imper- ia/l throne of Itu.H6i,i. the first Cathar- ine. Anna and EUizalieth, but by com- parison with her they are as Mrs. Cau- dle to an Auuizon. .She vva.;. forever on the lookout for territory that, in her opinion would neatly round off a corner of her dominions. When she found a district that suited her purpose a wo- uiiin's because was reason enough for taking it, and If the owner objected to this BUinmnry appropriation of his laiid. so raiu;h the worse for the owner. In Asia she vastly extended the do- minions of the empu-e. the scattered and i>.i>!ati'(l tribes falling an easy prey to the liussian regiments. Iiut in Ekirope she stoJe from all her neighliors that »he feilt aUe to fight, and during her reign a long march was made toward the Turkish capital. 'Her master stroke, on which she always prided her- self was the partition of Polanil. The lirave but unfortunate people had be- come so weakened by civil strife and foreign war that they were helpless against the robber mitions. and so their land was divided, not equally, for Cath- arine wanted and wnuUI have taken it all. but for fear of the wr.ilh of Prussia and Austria. As it was, she succeeded in getting the lion's sh.tre. much to the ohngrm of the other thieves, who might have gone tu\Nar about the mat- ter hiul they not already had in the seven years' war all the fighting they wanted. Cathsrine never got enough of war to suit her l.iste, but there was anoth- er Quee«i who did, and who testified that she never feilt happier in her life than on the day when she left her do- minions, as she supposed, for good and all. flow Isaliella of Spain would have enjoyed- the fray had her conflicts been between her own and the subjects of some other monarch we have no means of knowing, for during the thirty-five years of her reiijn her affectionate peo- ple kept thing.'* m so constant and uni- form a stew that she had no time to think of fighting anylmdy else. First the lla.sques broke out. as they were always ready to do, and after they had lieen quieted by promises to do some-f thing for them" the Oatulonians got up an insurrection, then cajue the Ara- gonese. then the Culallonians, then a big insurrection down in Andalusia, then a row away off in tJalJcia. Then somebody in Leon "pronounced" about! something, nobody knows or cares what, and after he had been shot a.11 Cuslile raised an uproar, which necessitated the shedding of a cimsideralile quantity of Caalilian gore. Estremadura came next, then Navarre, then the Basques again 'l"he turn of the cities was lat- er. There were rebefllions in Barce- lona and Valencia and Cadiz and Mal- aga, where the peoiille left gathering their grapes and making their raisins for the more bongeuiajl business of fighting the government. SevUle had to be bouibarded and Madrid, on more than one occasion, came near sharing its fate. It was simply dreadful, so dreadfol, in faot, that after thirty-five years of this sort of thing the whole Spanish people rose as one Hidalgo and told Isabella to go. and she went. If all the quarrelsome queens bad been as summariily treated the world might have enjoyed more peace, for the rule is invariable that (whenever a (lueen regnant bobs up in history, it is in connection with a war. There was Atbaliah, who appears as the slay- er of all the royal family and disappears in a revolution. There was Boadicea, who led the Britons, much to their dis- comfiture ; and there is Zenolila. who make.s her entry on the historic stage as the warlike Queen of Palmyra, and her exit as the wife of a Iloman sena- tor. There was Mary Stuart, on whose account every si^bool girl is prepared to shed tears, but who was known in her own time as the trickiest, most turbulent woman in Ejurope. Even in our own day, we have had an exanmile of a warlike empress, for it was Eu- genie, who. when the Franco-Prussian struggle iiroke out, declared, with cilenched fist, "This is my war." and lived to regret that she had so much to do with it. From her case, it ap- pears that a queen does not need to rule with undivided sway to make in- ternational trouble. Iu fact, a wo- man with influence to spare does not need to be crowned, for there were the ladies who filled the courts of Louis XIV,. and his equally virtuous great- grandson, who succeeded him. the I.a Vallieres, the De Montespans, the Maintenons. the Chateauroux. the Pom- padours. Ihe Du Barrys; everybody knows the whole bad lot and what part the^ had in the politics and wars of their day. They were not queens, but in this particular they might as well have been, for not even Catharine the (rreat did more to disturb the peace of neighboring nations than these vicious favorites of two corrupt kings ABOUT PROMINENT PEOPLE. .Valet Abuul Kame of the Ureal Falkii or Ihr World. Prehiilent M'Kinley han already dis- linguiNhed hiuLself by shaking the bandN of 1,S95 callers at the White IloUNP in thirty-one minutes. ilisB Duffy, of New- York city. i.-< a dealer in wild animaU. She su|ii>Iit& menageries in oil parts of the States with liona, tigers, )>ears and elephants. Patrick Donahoe, the owner of "The Boston I*)lot," wlho has just celebrat- e<i his 8Glh birthday, is In good health, and attends regularly to his busi- nei*. ' • Queen Victoria's salon in her pri- vate railway coach wa<» fumisWi at a CQHt of $30,(100. Tilt carpet cost |7a0, and eac)i door-handle a like amount. Mme. Lilliaa Noirdioa, the great singer, in a grand-daugbter ut (he late Kev. John AlUn, an eloquent Metho- dist jireocher, known aa "Caiupmeet- iog Joibn Allen." Herbert B|)encer bos refused the of- fer of Cambridge University to make him a doctor of science, on the ground that be ban always declined to accetit auch hu(ni>r8. The original manuei'.ript of Keats' "Emlymion'' bus just Ijeen sold for 93,475, which is without doubt much more thiin Keats ever received for bis entire poeticul worka. .lose Flt'hegaray, S|>ai>n'8 greatest playwright, i.s 64 years uJd. He is an engineer uiul a. mathematioian. He witM oiii-e a Minister of State. He has written fifty-two plays. The life of T«nnyi«in, on which his son, the |l(re^ent iurtl, bus been for some lime at work, has gone to the presM. It ia (*> lie published in two- giiiKl-«ized volumvH in the autumn. Priiu'eM« .Marie von Ilohenlohe, wife of the liiiiieriiil Chance Hot, has per- formed the nmalile feat of killing a liear while huniing ou her e»tate« iu HuNsla. The Princess is 08 years old. i\I. ..^ndre*-, wh«i means to try for the mirth pole again next suuiiiier, bus luid the size of his balloon increased by 30(1 cubic feet, whicih will enalile him to take E.iong 400 {Mninds more of dead weight Willia.i. (lay ley recently di.s|>o«e<l of 51 per c*ut. of the stix'k of the Tom Boy mine at Telluride, t\>lo.. to an Eng- lish Mn<li<'ate for the sum of 82,225.- 01)0. The mine hoa paid «K(K),l)00 in dlvi- deiuls the lait two years. It Is said that Mme. Sarah Uerm- h<tirdt huM oeviir \itted wine or other Lutoxicnnl.'s confining h»r beveragw nuoHtly to milk and water, ami that she attriliutew largely to this the rc- iiuijkable preservulion of her pow- ers. Among the ancesture of Br. Nan.Men was a Hans Nansen, Imirn in bWH, who explored tiie White sea. .'«pent many years in the Iceland trade, and wiMto a geography which <le.s<nibed Arctic roule,H HO wel:l Ih/il ac»ipy of the book won in UMe as late as 1841. (lla<lHtone'.s brilliant bit of satire on the llerniaji' Empenor's exhibitions ol julgiiicnl and experience is Heuonde<l by the l,«u)<lon Sjietitator, which says."â€" "lie s«'eiiis cflimble of thanking tiod foir a great harvest an<l sending him the Order of the Red Eiigle in jictuow- leilgmeot." Ham N'dhi, ex-King of Annam, now thirty ye.'irs old, whom the Fremh are keeping as a.Siate prismner at All- are keeping as a. Slate prisoner at Ail- gieis, hns developed suiue skill as a I>ainter, and intends to ttend a few of his picturew to llie Salon. Ho is an amateur photographer, rides ii bicycle, and studies mutliciuatics and phllusu- phy in French text-booka. ARMS AND legs! According to tihe reiult of many measurements made at tie Anthruix)- logical LalKiratory in London, thn right arm in human brings is, iu a majority of casi'-s loniiier than the left arm, while, iwi the C4intrary, the left leg is longer tliaai the riight leg. Snuic- times, however, the relative proporiions ore exactly reverse-A, but very seldoimi does perfect equality exist lietweenthe two .sides. The teniilency of the right arm to exceed the left arm in strength is .smne.w luijt greater itv men than in w-nmi'ii. while equalily of strength in the two arms occurs almast twice as frequently with Wanton as with. men. The Drunkara's Family. Raiph Stone stood in the barn door, looking over the fields where he had wtxrked so hard all through the early spring and the hot summer, early and late; he had worked hopefully and faithfully, and now to lose his home, fotr that was how it wooiild end. The doud on the young face grew darker as he lingered, and he spoke passionately; "I will not stand it, after all I have daae. to see it all go fo* drink ; even our home to go to old Jim Allen ftiir rum. I will go away and let it all go." A hand was laid dn his arm, and a sad voice said: "Kalpb. would you leave your mother and. little sisters to bear their trouble alone? Isi your home all that you love?" "Mother, yon fcnawi it is not. It is fotr you and Lucy and little Dolly that I care so mbch ; but what can I do for you if our home is mortgaged, for you knoiw that be has aJiready drank up nearly, oir quite all. he can get on the pflace, and he will sell the crops we have worked bo hard to raise ; so we can barely live, without paying a mortgage. Besides, the farm is yours, mother, and no one baa a right to take it from yo»i for anything, much less rum," "Ralph, the farm shall aa*. go. I have no right' to let my children's home go, and I will not. Your father cannc*, disjKMe of it without my con- sent, and I have made up my mind that my children shall have a home while they live." "But he will strike you, motherâ€" and I shall kill him if he does. 1 will never never see him strike you again." "U'usb I Oh, hush I my son I You mkist not speaki so of your father. It is nolt that be is onael to me ; It is the drink. Bie used to he so kind and love uB so, and remember, be is your father still." "Honor him I when he makes himself lower than the dumb brutes,' and when he abuses you. mother â€" the best wo- man CO earth ; and Lucy ! Look at her â€" deformed for life by him. And y(«a a^ me to lone and honor him ! Mother, I love and honor you with all my heart, and will obey you as far oa it is in my power to. but I cannot love or honor him." "I>>n'tâ€" don't speo^ bo. my son. Try to be patient and piray that he may become a man again. I will not give up our bonne, and you must stay and oore for me and your sisters. Here comae Frank. I am/ sure my l>oys will help each other, and help me to bear life Ixravely." There was a gathering moisture in Ralph's eye, and his voice was a lit- tle husky, as be said: "Yes, mother; we will do the best we can, if he will not strike yui or the children. If he does â€" I will no*, promise. Come, Frank ; we mliist be at work. I have idled too long already," and they ha<<tened away, while tears kept Kick for her hoys' sake now rolled down the mother's face un- heeded, and, sinking on her knees, she prayed long and earnestly that in some way this trouble might l>e removed and their home still remain without bring- ing a heavier sorrow. When she arose, although she could see no way out of her trouble, she felt that "He who cares for the sparrow" woWld care for her an<l her children, and she reHirned to her work with a firmer trust, if not a lighter heart. Ralph Stone was now 18. and Frank two years younger, both well-grown boys, and for the past four years had done nearly all the work on their small farm, while the father .H|Htnt his time in idlene.vi and drinking all he could get to sell, or get tr^isted lor, until nonv his health was nuicb broken, and he WHS su deeply in debt that old Jim Allen thought he had better secure his i>ay befixre it was too late, and so John Stone had been' trying to get bis wife to mortgage the place to Allen, and when she had refused, had struck her and swoirn that she should sign or she shcnild suffer for it. The little farm had been very pro- ductive when given to Mis. Stone by hex father, an<l had remained so as long as well cared for, but for .several years, before the boy.s were old and intelligent enixugh to attend to it aa it RhUald be. it hud been neglected, and until the present 8ea...on had not regained its old fertility. But now it was shmving the care the lioys had given it. The hay had been cut aud carefully stored in the l>arn. and moat of the grain; while corn and potatoes promis«'d un alniudant cropâ€" more than enough to sunply the family if only it wan mt sold to satisfy the insati- able drank demim. Ralph and Fnuik worked almost in silence, fur lioth knew what they bad to fe.ir from him who was a father only in name, aud as the sun U-gan to sink torwards the green hill-toiis. they watched the roiid to the village, least he come before their work was done and l>eat their loved mother or helpless sisters. Evening cjinie aud the father did not ; but this was not unu.sual, and they did their accustomed work and ate their supper- in peace, Ralph th<*ight, but did not say, lest it pai.n his mother. The night passed quickly and with the curliest dawn the l>oyH were up and at wojk. Mrs. Sitone was a lil- ttle uneasy at her husband remaining away all night, hut only feared that he was drinking more heavily than usual. They had just finished their early lureakfiist, when a wagon drove slow- ly up with severtil of their neighbors in it, and llalph basiteneil out. won- dering at slicb an early call from so matiy. The oddest man, Mr. Rogers, came furwTird at once to meet Ralph, while the oitbers sttvyed at the wagon. "tiood morning, Mr. Rogers," Ralph said, plea.santly. "Yoiu are abroad eiirly." "xea, Itnlph, and not on a pleasautl errand, either, Yolur father " Ue stopped and turned away his head. "Father did not come home last lyight. Mr. Rogers. What has b* done f " "Well, lad, it's hard to tell you, but: it mlust be done. Hie started to come home last night, but be had been drink- ing considerably, and he had a bottle along, too. (H<e got along all right till he got to Mill brook, and it seems he wanted a drink o^ water, or missed the bridgeâ€" anyway, I had to go to towfi ri^ht early, and when I got to the bridge I saw someone lying half in the water, face down, and â€" it was your father, lad, dead for hours; and so I got the neighbors to help me bring him home. I'm sorry for you, lad. It's hard to have him go that way, but I fuesB it is better mr you all to hava im gone. Why, lad I Lad, don't look like that. The Lord knows what is best, and you must bear up (or your. mothea''s sake." "t)h, Mr. Rogers; only yesterday I almost wished him dead, and I said I woiuid kill him if be ever struck mother again, and noiwl be is dead I" "Well, Ralph, yuu could not help feeling that way with such a good mother, and him abusing her, hot you must try and forget it now, and youv mother must know." Without a word Ralph turned and walked into the bobse to bis mother's side, and, throwing bis arms around her, said: "Mother, dear mother ; father will never drink again. I hope you wUl for- give my wicked words of yesterday, and I hope God will forgive me. Dear mother, I will do all I can for you. Try to bear it, mother, for Lucy's and Dolly's salie." Mr. Rogers then said: "Mrs. Stone, this is the hardest err- and I ever came on, but the Lord will comfort you in Hia own way and time. Now we mtifiti think of getting him in and cared far. There won't have to be an inquest, for it is plain enough what oanised his death." And so John Stone was brought into the home he had made so unhappy and bad tried so hard to place in the hands of the rum-seller; brought home for the last time. Their tears were very bitter when they remembered what he had been before the drink demon took possession of him. and. and then of the death be died After be was buried Ralph and Frank went back to their work with reE"w- ed energy, for they knew that what they made from the farm now would bring added coimtort to their mother and sisters, and they were determined to give Ijicy an education and all the comforts in their power to atone fo» the sufferings she had to endure front her deformity. Jim Allen tried to set Mrs. Stone to pay fur the liquor he had sold her hus- band, but she tojd him sternly to re- turn the life and manhood that he had taken from her husiibnd. and then she would think about paying him. He went away with many threats, but be did not trouble her again. The years passed rapidly away, and the little farm yielded an abundant support for the f.-unily. The giris were kept in school, and Frank spent the long winter evenings in study, fitting himself (or a business life, as he felti that to be his lifework. and he could be spared from the (arm. as Ralph could hire help aa such times aa he needed. Ralph was a practical and enthusias- tic f,^rmer, and while Frank was study- ing to fit himself for business, Ralph was Bthdying the Ibest methods of farming, and Dolly, now- growing a fine, healthy girl, was quite us inter- ested as Ralph, and cxniltf make as good butter as could be found in any dairy, and no one raised nicer chicks or sold more eggs from the sanie number of hens than lX«lly. Lucy had g^o^vn stronger with the years, and had been an earnest student, thciiiigh she was still delicate. Her spriritual life had developed, also, and, being a great lover of musio and a go<id musician, she had been chos- en organist for the little church where they all wnrshiiied ; she was also so earnest worker in the Sunday school, and a vei7 ardent wurker for the tem- perance cause, fiir she could not forget nor tilt her o|r his sad death. Frank jtdned with her earnestly in this, and together tbey fought the drink fiend until there were no more open saloons in their loved state of \ ermont, but they still found plenty of work for the ciUise of temperance. Kalpb and Dolly dislike the liquor traffic quite as much as the others, but Dolly says they can do better farnt wivk than temperance work, and so they leave t h.-it to the others. It is again early fall, and Ralph and Frank sland in the l)arn door where w-e saw them first. It is near even- ing, and they are looking out at tha little valley, and thnn .it the hills that aurround it. Frank is going away on the mrrrow to enter a business col- lege, and is wtnidering when he shall again see the sun set on this familiar sc-ene. At last Kalph spoke. "You may go where you will, Frank, to find yrtu a home, l>ut; >ou will never find a fairer siMit than this little valley nestling here among the green hills. I can never leave it. There wmild never be another place that I could love ivs I do this." "Yes, it is beautiful, and I lone it, too, but not as you do perhaps, and I have other work to do I am sure, but it is very Jijird to go away from you and from them all," and Frank turned hurriedly away. "Keep up a good courage. Frank, for this will he your home .still, as long as yoiu wish it, an<l jou know il would not do far eyerybody to stay in the home neat. Iliere is work to be done cat in the world, and there must be workers there, and 1 am sure that for mother's and Lucy's sake you will h» good and Iwave, The amn Is set and we miist go iu." And nirtv we will leave them to fol- low 'their life Work in their own chosen way. A PLAIN TALE FIUXAI THE HILLS. It was at a table d'hote dinner at a hill station in liulia that a ver.v young officer jasl up frt»m the plains founil hini.self healed next to a lady whlom he too k for one of the gr!K>« whom he took for one of the gra.ss wi<lows cojiinioiii in those iKi-rt-s. He uuule hiin«eK agreeable, hut hlsBeigh- boT seemed a good deail out of spirits; so he said, syinpai.lielically : I Mippose you cttln't help' thinking of your poor bvmlKinxl grilling down be- llow ? Hul the hwly was a real wid;i>v». and when he Icarbed that he changed his seal.