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W A CAST FORâ€"FERTUNE. Br CHRISTIAN REID, 1x “ Lirriscorr's Mxoxzixe.” CHAPTER XII. “ I am sorry,” said Don Maurizio, coming out the next morning to find the usual group gathered under the arcade, around the great doorway,â€"to wit, Dona Zarifa. Derwcnt,r the horses, and the IIICI'.UN,â€"â€""l.ll‘dt I shall have to disappoint you about our ride this moining. I find by a letter which I have just received that I must go on business to Eitmtlan, and it would not be agreeable to either of you to accompany me there." “ Of course not, papa,” said lloua Zarifa, who was standing by her horse‘s head, feed- ing him with sugar, which the beautiful,‘ intelligent creature took daintin from her hand. " And it is really as wellâ€"at least, so far as I am concernedâ€"that the ride is deferred," she went on. “ “'hen I went to the hospital this morning, I found poor Benita wandering in mind. and my presence ‘ seemed to soothe her. So I will go back at once. Allim, my beauty,” she patted the horse's arching neck: “ are you sorry that you will not have to carry me this morn- ing?” “ I am sure that he is, if I may be allowed to interpret his sentiments by my own,” said Derwcnt. “ And you are going to the hospital, senorita .’ I can say. nothing against such a charitable intention ; but before you spokeâ€"so quick is thoughtâ€"I was about to propose a visit to the ruumla. Ever since you said that you would like a picture of it, I have been anxious to try what my efforts can accomplish in the way of a sketch.” “ But I thought that you disclaimed any artistic skill ‘5” she said, with some surprise. “ I said that I was not an artist. < That is true. But I have a little facility in sketch- ing from nature, though not much t 'ainiug. I cannot promise you a finished picture, but I may make a passable drawing of the ravine.” “I shall he delighted,” she said. “I hope that you will try. And sucly my absence -anuotmatter. You do iit need assistance in your drawing ‘t” “ Oh, yes,” said Derwcnt, though he had ' l the grace to blush, “ I need your assistance to determine the best point of \'iew,â€"-tliat is, the one you would prefer. But I will take my materials and follow my own judg- ment. Then, when you liave finished your charitable ministrations, you will perhaps come and tell me if you like my choice.” “Yes, I will come,” she said, smiling. And then, without waiting to change her‘ dress, she valked away toward the village on the other side of the gardens Derwcnt stood and watched her as long as she wasin sight. The close-fitting habit show- ed every line of her statuesquefigure and the perfect grace with which she moved, as sue passed down one of the shady avenues, her favorite companion, a beautiful greyhound, 'alkiug beside her, and looking as thorough- bred as herself. All around stretched the ; to be almost simultaneous, two shots rung ; sharply on the air, the lastsâ€"a rifle-ballâ€" just grazing his ear, and then flattening it- self on the stone column beside which he . sat. , The book dropped from his hand, and the ; sheet of paper on which he was sketching i was borne by a current of air over the ‘ ailing and fluttered unheedcd into the cur- , rent below. as with a violent start he looked 3 up, to see Dona Zarifa standing on the path 1 below ,with a still smoking pistol in her up- ; lifted hand. I In an instant he was by her side, for iii- ’stiuct told him that the shot had not been fired idly. “ For God's sake, what is it '3” he cried, gazing with astonishment at the lpale, set face, the shining eyes, and the up- ,lifted hand pointing so steadily without a { tremor in the direction of the pavilion. ‘ “ There is a man, an assassin, behind you- } der rock,” she answered, in a clear vibrant itone, pointing to a low, long boulder that l crowned the bill which rose immediately in 7 the rear of the pavilion. “ I saw him about i to shoot you, and I fired just as he had his : finger on the trigger. His aim swerved, and l he fell. I think I killed him." “ I will see,” said Derwcnt, turning quick- ly ;but she stopped him by a motion, and (extended the pistol. “ He may be merely ’ wounded,” she said. “ Be cautious.” l “'ith no recollection of his weakness, he i sprang forward and hastened up the steep I ascent. Eighteen or twenty yards brought him to the boulder, and there on the ground , behind it was the assassin, his rifle where it (had fallen beside him. At the first glance Derwcnt thought he was dead, but on ex- , amination discovered that, though inscnsible, E be was still breathin'r. Throwing open his l loose white upper garment, the young man l saw that the pistol-ball had entered his 5 chest some little distance below the heart. l A stream of dark blood was flowing from it ; l and Derivent’s first act was to place his ' thumb on the bullet-hole. The next mo- ment he heard a step, and, turning his head, saw Zarifa standing beside him, looking down at the man’s face with an expession of intense pain. But she asked, in a hushed tone,â€" “Is he dead ‘1” “No ; and I am not sure that the wound need be fatal, if we -an get speedy help. Can I you go for it ‘3” “hes, certainly,” she answered, startiu v away impetuously. But before she had : gone three steps she turned again, and, f r i u x l picking up the man’s weapon, -arried it a short distance away. “Have you the pistol in your hand ‘1” she said. “Be on your guard : sonic of these people are very treach~ erous. I will soon bring assistance and Padre Francisco. I left him at the hospi~ tal.” When she was gone, Derwcnt for the first time looked closely at the man’s face. It was dark, with finely-cut features and a. grounds, dappled with sunshin e and shadow mass of black hair; but not even the closed while the lloug vista of the tree-archc avenue held only the one moving figure, as a perfect picture, in the heart of the green loveliness. Del-Went gave a deep sigh. “If I . could only paint that l” he said, half aloud, and then turned, with some confusion, to find Padre Francisco beside him. “What is that you would like to paint 2’” asked the priest. “This view of the gardens? Yes, is is very charming. lint is not that Dona Zurifa thatIsee walkingaway, yonder? How is it that your usual ride is not to be taken ‘.‘” I Derwcnt explained, adding, “So Dona Zarifa has gone to the hospital to see some . poor woman who is wandering in her mind 7! “ Benita. Yes, she will die. I fear.’ “And I am going to try and sketch the Canada. \Vill you come, padre mic, and see my failure ‘1" “I will come for a little while and see your success,” the padre answered, “for I do not think that you are likely to attempt any- thing in which you would fail.” "‘I should not wish to attempt what I knew to be beyond my powers, certainly, But a man cannot always tell beforehand whether he will succeed in an effort, even when he thinks he may.” “If he has gauged his powers correctly, he can generally tell,-â€"at least in some degree. You, Senor Derwcnt, know pretty accurate- lV,I think, what you can do." ~ “I wish I did !" said Derwcnt, dcvoutly. "But I am like other men: misled by vanity, I sometimes essay tasks beyond my strength and fail. I shall probably fail in making this sketch : but I mean to try. Fortunately. I have sketcldug-materials with me ; for I thought I would do some- thing oftlic kind in Mexico. This will be my first attempt.” A few minutes later, with a portfolio under his arm and accompanied by the padre, he was on his way to the ~aviue, where he had spent many delightful hours since the day when he was first introduced to it. They tried various points of view, and itwasfinally decided that the sketch should bcmudc from the pavilion. So l)ei‘- went settled himself, with the more satis. faction be “use he had a support on the rail- ing for his book, and a roof overhead to keep away the intrusive ruvs of the sun. Padre F 'aiicisco lingered, talking pleasantly, until he was finally at work; and then. saying that his own work awaited him, he took his departure, with many wishes for the success » of ilic picture. As his slender, cussockcd figure went down the glcn, Derwcnt watched it With a smile, saying to himself that if his picture was a. success that figure should enter into if. ‘Uo: a Piarifa will like that." he thought: for he knew how dear the gentle priest was to 1 He had heard from , evcrv one at Mirafiorcs. Don'Muui‘izio that he belonged to one of the proscrilwd religious orders, which, robbed, exiled, and dcfniudcd by the government. are yet quietly doing the work of God in poverty and obscurity all over Mexico. The young man \‘as thinking of that ii 'urc, and of all the long line of such figures w iich had (‘hristianizcd and civilized a savage people, as he worked with a facility that surprised himself. Perhaps the stimulus Was the desire to gratify Dona Zdl‘lffl.â€"â€"qu love can do Wonderful things and develop powersalmost undreaincd of.â€"-â€"or perhaps he possessed more talent than he had hitherto imagined. At all events, his sketch was 'rowiug in the most satisfactory manner, and iv: was so ulmorbcd in its pro 'rcss that he had almost forgotten to wqu cr if Dona Zarifa would appear according to her promise when suddenly, in euchquick succession as eyes and relaxed muscles could soften its ( fierce and sinister expression. A despe ‘ado in appearance as well as in deed, he looked thoroughly capable of the dastardly act in which vengeance had overtaken him ; and Derwcnt felt with a sense of shuddering hor- ror, such as he had never before ever im- l agincd, that but- for the st 'angely fortunate chanceâ€"or was it the mercy of heaven ?-â€" that had brought Dona Zarifa upon the scene . at the critical moment, he himself would now be lying with his lifeâ€"blood welliiig out and his eyes closedforever to the things of the earth. The man must be indeed iiiseiisiblc who, having, as it were, felt the very breath of Death upon his check, is not thrilled by the touch of that great and terrible mystery. Nor was the thrill lessened by thinking of hand that saved him,â€"thc gentle woman’s hand that had never before taken even the life of a bird, but that had not faltcred in striking the murderer down. “’hat a fire of fierce indignation had been in the dark eyes when he met them first! It was like the deadly flash of a sword from its sheath. He found himself recalling it with such a sense . of conflicting emotions that it was well for him that the sound of quickly-approaching steps tore his miml from the subject. Padre Francisco had been met by Dona Zarifa be- fore she had gone far, and he hurried on at .oncc to join Derwcnt, while she proceeded quickly to the hospital, and, in less time [than they dared hope, several men bearing a lit~ ter made their appea ‘ance. \Vith the practised skill of oncaccustomcd to such work, the padre bandaged the wound, and the man was placed on the litter ! just as Zarifa once more appeared. i “The doctor will be at the hospital by the 1 time you get there,” she said. Do you think, 1})mlre‘ mic, that ‘" “He will live?" the priest said, concluding her faltering sentence. “I cannot tell. He is still inscnsible, but. I believe he will re. cover coiisciousnccs soon: and I shall stay: ( . . , . . I bcsnlc him. ho home now, my child. This has been a great shock to you. He.” l But Dona Zarifa shook her head; and llerwcnt saw bv her pallor and the expres- “I will go to the hospital," she said. “I can render assistance there ” "None," said the padre, gently, but firin- :ly. “You must go to the ram. If Don ; Maurizio has returned, send him to us; but jyou can do nothing. Take Senor Derwcnt i with you." I _“.\'o," said Derwcnt; “my place is cer- ; tamly here, to help you with your burden. f lint Dona Zarifa must go. It is too painful at I sight for ncr." "Nothing is to painful when one can do anything to help," she said. “lint is there 'nothiugâ€"u" She cast one more glance at the man on the litter, shuddcred, and turned away. ‘ Derwcnt followed her with his eyes and with his heart, but an intuition told him that it was best to leave her alone, even if there had not been work for him to do. It was slow and difficult work conveying the 'wounded man to the hospital, where Our Lady of Guadalu )c stood above the door 'way, as if to we come all who came, and where he was laid down on a white bed,-â€"- the most wild, gaunt, bloody object that , had ever conic within those quiet walls. ’1'“ BE L'UNTIXL' ED. Had Been Through It. Mother (to baby): "It's muuer’a litilb' , oofsy iootsy ; muzur lows her little darlin baby.” Fanny (who has just been spanked): i . I grow up she‘ll spank you, t-t-oo E” l Human Sympathy. . They All Do It. Br REV. 'r. E. snows, n. D, Two women leaned over the back-yard fence “Rejoice with them that rejoice and weep (The same old fence) as the sun went with them that weep.‘ Romans xii. 15. down, Standing as our text does in a summarv of “ bile 9591‘ mm the, (ll-her: 1“ mllfidencey Christian virtues, it is to be taken as a com- The scandals She ‘1 8“”‘91‘9‘1 “muml th e mand and to be reasonably expected of us. town- _ . As this is a command for sympathy, we may For “omen mun 805511’: (“They can" well consider what sympathy is. I t is any Sleep, l l l i i l sion of her face how much she was suffering. , g I kind of fellow feeling we have towards an- other, a substitution of ourselves for another, a look at life through another's circumstances This is not an easy matter but is a task that Christianity places upon us. Sym- pathy is not. mere sentiment, which is feeling related only to ourselves ; sym- pathy is feeling for another. Men may in- dulge sentiment for the mental excitement it may cause. Sentiment is selfishness, sympathy is love. “'hy should we have this sympathy, this quality that is not weakness but strength, that puts us into the place of another and makes us think his very thoughts? Because sympathy is the great way in which Christ- ian love can express itself. To love a man means to make his need ours, and further, sympathy is essential to a life of helpfulness. How can we ever get a true knowledge of those around us unless we have enough sympathy for them to be a part of their life '.' The true teacher is the man whose boy- hood is not so far behind him that he cannot recall it. No, the true teacher knows all the difficulties of his scholar and sets his task by the boy’s capability and not by his own. So with the orator. You have heard speakers who have had every advantage and gift and yet who never moved you; why was it? They were not in sympathy with you. So the critic. If he has any reason for existence it is to be helpful, and to do this he must put himself in the place of those he criticises, in short, have sympathy. How many a stinging criticism would be un- written if thecritic had in sight and a desire to be helpful. How often sympathy lessens and softens the bitterness of grief. When your friend in affliction doubts the justice and kindness of God, by the example of your sympathetic nature he may be made to reason, ‘My friend cares for me, may not. God care for me also? His heart is largerthan any earthly friend.” How much misery has been caused by not having sympathy for our fellows. We used to hear a good deal of hazinn'in college. That has become a thing of the past, but Social hazing exists that is worse than any bodily injury; the social cut, the gossiping story, the look of scorn, these are weapons which always have their sting. If we have sym- pathy instead of scorn for those less fortun- ate than ourselves they will remember us as those who helped to make men of them. Then sympathy is the only firm founda- tion for social life. In every country there is a deep rift-between classes. The sectar- ianism of 10-day is not in religion nor in science, but the dangerous scctarianism of to-day is between social classes. On one side is selfish wealth and on the other envi- ous labor. How is this chasm to be closed? Argument will not do it, force only widens it. There are many elements which shall enter into the solution, but the fundamental principle will be sympathy. Let us reach out the hand and realize the burdens which each has to bear and let each learn to care for the other because he is a man. This craving for sympathy is as great as the craving for bread. One can steal broad but no one can have sympathy unless we ive it. “'ho does not want to be loved by his fellows? If you hear any one say he does not want sympathy tell him he does not know himself. Poor is he who has no tears for another’s woe and smiles for his joys. The soul without sympathy is one without wealth or music, except the discord- ant iiiusic of selfishness. How, then, shall we win this quality of sympathy? If God has endowed you with a nature of this kind, thank him. But if we have it not, we must determine to gain it. This we can do by picturing ourselves in our neighbor‘s place and then doing as we would be done by. Then speak the words and do the deeds of sympathy even as Christ felt joy in others’ joy, and grief in others’ grief, so must we preach our message to the world and hasten the time when all shall meet in universal brotherhood. â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"§ L Second Nature. “ This room is very close,” remarked the guest to the head waiter, “ can’t I have a little fresh air ‘1” The well-drilled automation voice to a high pitch. “ One air 2” he yells ; after a pause add- ing, “ let it be fresh 1” raised his Tackling a. Red-headed Woman With a. Boil. “I beg your pardon,” he said, as a woman came to the door in answer to his knock. “I am looking for a man with a hare-lip and a wooden leg named Johnsmiâ€"-” “Is it his wooden ieg that is named John- son, or are his liarcdip and wooden leg both named Johnsmi ‘:” she demanded. “I didn'tmean, of course, that his wooden leg was named Johnson. 1â€"” “Then what did you say so for 3'” “Permit me to explain, madam, I was onlyâ€"â€"” “I haven't asked you for any explanation, have I ‘2” '- “L'crtainly not. fiml outâ€"â€"â€"” “Have I asked you to state why you are trying to find out anything '1" “Of course not, madam, but being a stranger in the neighlmrhwdâ€"” “Do you mean that I am a stranger in the neighborhood ‘5” “No, madam, certainly not. morning, madam. " He paused a monient when safely outside the front gate to mop the respiration from his face, and then started ( own the street. “If ever I tackle a red-headed woman with a boil on her nose for information again,” he said to himself, “may I be e-sentially dog-gonad !” How Not to be @2301» 8. Bridal Couple Bride (on honeymoon tourkâ€"“I ho the people in the car won‘t take us for a ridal couple and make fun of us." ‘ Bridegrcmmâ€"“I've 'ot a plan to make tiiem believe we haveieen married a year or two." Brideâ€"“How delightful ! \Vhat in it 2" Bridegroomâ€"£“I’ni going to leave you here My object in trying to Iâ€"Iâ€"good ; “Don‘t believe her, baby. When you [sob] ' by yourself while I, go into the smoking car '31 and pay a few guinea of whilt. Their idea is that secrets weren't made. to keep : So they lean on the fence in the gleaming. Two women sat out on the frout~door stoop, In the evening glow as the sun went down ; They told how their children had skipped the croup And they sneered at the minister‘s wife's new gown. For women delight in a friendly chat, Without it their lives would be stale and flat ; So they sit on the stoop in the gloam- mg. Two husbands came home from the base ball game (From the office, they said), as the sun went down, Both ready and eager to hear the same Sweet scandals their wives had hunted down. For men, though they work, love gossip, too, And that’s why their wives seek some- thing new, As they meet and talk in the gloam- ing. Their_ First Unpleasantuess. Mrs. and Mrs. Bolivar Pyke had been married about six weeks and were still ; oppressively happy. Not a ripple of dis. ’ cord had stirer the frog pond of their domestic harmony and their life ran smooth- ly and unobstructedly. This may sound like exaggeration, but you have positively no idea how unreasonably and absurdly happy these two young persons were. It was an evening in Mayâ€"an ordinary : evening in May, ISQOâ€"und the rain hadn’t stopped. “ inenavista,” said Bolivar, looking ab- stractcdly about the room, “if it wouldn't be asking too great a favorâ€"” i “ What- is it, dear?" asked Mrs. I’ykc 2 tenderly. “ Please try the other knee awhile. one is getting tired.” “ You have never said anything like that '3 before, Boli 'ar,” she protested reproach- } fully. “ Perhaps I’d better go and sit on a chair.” “ Now don't get huffy, darling. don‘t look so pretty when you frown.” “ I am not frowning, Bolivar.” “ You certainly are, Bucnavista.” ( “ Then I don"t look pretty !" she cx- claimed, bouncing up and seating herself ) ten feet away. “ All right, Mr. I’ykc ! I Youâ€"youâ€"you’re getting tired of me. Iâ€" ‘ Iâ€"-wisli I wasâ€"" i “Now, look here, Bucnavista, don’t be foolish. There’s nothing to quarrel about.” I “I‘m not (piarreling, sir! I'm not going 'to quarrel, either. If there's anything of that kind done, you will be the one who does it, Mr. Pyke.” “I am glad to hear it, my dear.” “You needn’t call me your dear. not dear to you any more.” “I thought you said you were not going to quarrel.” “I did, sir, and I am not. your conduct, Mr. I’yke, I am still your loving wife.” “Then, dearestâ€"" “No, sir, I am not your dearest.” “\Vell, Buenavista, tlicnâ€"if- you prefer please sing something This You I am In spite of it-â€"if you are still my loving wife, won’t you {'7’ “\Vhat for? Are you afraid I’ll try to sit on your knee again '.’ You needn’tâ€"â€"” “No, no, Bucnavistu. I thoughtit might clear up the atmosphere of this room a little. That’s all.” “'ith the aspect of a martyr going cheer- fully to the stake, Mrs. Pyke went to the piano and sat down before it. “\Vhat shall I sing ‘1” she asked nieekly. "Perliapsâ€"«h'mâ€"~perhaps it would make things seem more cheerful if you should tackle ‘Homc, Sweet Home.’ ” Mrs. I’yke fixed her eyes on aspot near the ceiling where the wall-paper didn't ex- actly match and wailcd out the touching melody : “ ‘ Mid ple-a-a-sures and pal-a-placcs tho-o-ugh-~I know well ciiongli, Mr. Pykc, you have only asked me to sing this to make me appear ridiculous, but I am going to do it,â€"‘ we may ro-o-am. lie it c-c-eve-c-er so ’-â€"â€"I think any man who tries to make his wife the object of ridicule never, never cared anything for her ----- ‘ hu-u-u-mble there’s no-o-o place like ’â€"â€"I have always done everything I could to make home pl. pl-pleasaut, and yonâ€"you know itâ€"‘ h-o- ome. A clia-a-arm from the ski-i ics seems to ’â€"scems like the ghastiliest moekery in the world, but you would have itâ€"â€"â€"‘ ha-a- llo o~ow us the-c~ere. Which, sc-e-eek through-the \\'-0-0-Ul‘l(l is ne’er mc-c~ct with elsewhe-e-cre. Ho-o-o-ome, ho-ome, sw ’ -~ I'll sing it through if it k-kdiills mew ‘swee e-cct, swe-e-eet hmnc, There's no-o-o ilace likc’â€"'aiii't you ashamed of yourself, folivar I’ykc, to sit there pretending you 'are anythingalmut our home any more, or me either ?â€" ‘ho-o-ome, There’s uo-o-o-oo place likeâ€"lib. Bolivar, dear, I can‘t! Yes, I will 3 I will lâ€"‘ho-o-o-onic 3’ ” As her quavcring voice sounded the last word of the song a maan voice joined in were gathered in a close grasp, her head sank on Bolivar's shoulder, andâ€"â€" But what business has any outside bar- barian to be intruding here? Let us retire. His Grai-i-(Iâ€"Afimction- Aunt »-â€"“liut Ed is poor." Tereseâ€"“True, but I love him.” Aunt~â€"~“Uld." Tereseâ€"â€"“Truc." Auntâ€"â€"“L'gly." Tcrese~“True." Aunt~â€"“Hmv is you '.'" Terese» ~“He is the only man I ever met ' who could wag his ear and take his hat off by arching his eyebrows." m~m â€"â€"~â€" mâ€"fl _â€"..â€".__â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"... it he has fascinated Hear Enough. l Father~\\'hat time did you get in last night, air? _ - Sonâ€"About 11 o’clock. Fatherâ€"“'hy, you were not in bed at )2, when I looked in your room! I Sonâ€"I know, but! was under-it. with a. deep bass-her tremblinglittle fingers - l l I l 1 LATEST BY cage. Bis march and the Kaiser-Somé Ridiculous Stories as to their Relationsâ€"The Bx- Chancellor‘sBccentricitiesâ€"A Board of Agriculture Established in London. From the reports cabled over here of utterances in American newspapers and by prominent German-Americiui citizens, it is evident that a lot of nonsense about Bisuian‘k and the Kaiser has been telegraphed from this side. It is ridiculously untrue that the Kaiser made any attempt to muzzle the cx~ Chancellor or that he intends doing so. All that has been done is to dispatch a private. circular note from Caprivi to the German Amlmxsudors, instructing them, politely and with defercutial Bismarck‘s utterances as those of a privaic gentleman, if any of them should happen to run counter to any dciail of the German foreign policy and should thus provoke gentleness, to describe foreign iinpiirics. As for Bismarck himself, he is undoubted- ly saying at great random all the things that come into his head. I have just re- turned from Berlin, where, during a month's stay, I heard almost daily from his friends an authentic account of some fresh mani- festation of Bismarck‘s garrnlous rage. It. is difficult to speak definitely of the great man‘s attitude toward the Kaiser and the Berlin Government, for the reason that he himself shifts about with varying moods all over the extensive gamut of his temper- aineiit. His general condition, though, is one of amazed wrath at finding affairs going on smoothly without him. He is as much out of them as the man who fell from a balloon. average Idon't bclicvc Bismark has any settled plans ofuny sort. He is in a. dozen minds about everything. One day he decides that he will enter the Reichsiag as a private member and pnlvcrize everybody within reach. The next day he resolves to devote the remainder of his life to writing his meni- oirs which shall crush half the reputafii'nis in Europe. ()n the third day he yields to the charm of the dream of living tranquilly with his pipe and dogs and trees, musing like a philosopher upon the ingratitudc of princes and then the next morning be early gets out his railway time table and gives orders for his trunks fobc packed fortravcl. He has written a little for a few hours now and then on these memoirs of his, but he is too angry and unsettled for regular work, and the publishers in Leipsic don’t expect any book while he lives. The establishment of a- Board of Agri- culture in London. with its chief in the Cabinet, has undeniably had a good effect. The Board keeps the farmers regularly in. formed of all that concerns their. in foi'cign countries, and alreadyold-fashioned methods of cultivation are being abandoned in favor of more scientific means. The latest movement is directed to the cstablishimrnt of agricultural Schools all over the country, endowed by the State and controlled by the Board of Agriculture. Modc‘atc counsels have prevailed in the gasworkcrs’ dispute, and an amicable work- ing scheme is in course of arrangement, owing to the increased cost of coal and labor. This was the company which, by the way, paid 13?,l per cent. dividends. last year, and has increased the price of gas. She Said Pshaw! and So Did He ! Not a pretty word, perhaps, but then she said it so prettin ! She was a sw'cet little thing, and when she nit her hands on her hips, lifted up her saucy little face, and, lookingat you with her half shut eyes, emitted this provoking monosyll- able, it fle\' as straight and swiftly to its mark as any shaft in Cupid‘s quiver. And just because the little iuiiix Vas perfectly conscious of the effect of her “ l’shaw 2" she uttered it on all niblic occasions. She said “ l’sliaw 1” to everybody and without any apparent reason, but then,- was one to whom she said it more fret ucntly than to anybody else, and for the lmJ-‘sl of reasons. For he loved hc ' and she pretend- ed thut she didn't love him, and Ho fora long time “ l’shz-w l" was all the answer the poor fellow got to his prayers and protestations. “I love you i" “ l’shaw !" “I would give my life for a kiss from your lips." “ l’shaw I" “ I will blow my brains out if you refuse to listen to me 5” “ l’shaw I” said she, bringing her laughing face still closer to his so that her tempting red lips fairly touched his beard. She wasn't abit afraid of him, you see, but be, poor fellow, was still a little afraid of hcr and she drove him almost crazy with her coquctry. At last he low all patience, and coming upon her unexpectedly one evening he said never a word but took her in his arms and covered her face with kisses. She strug- gled and screamed like a captured bird, and as uselessly, for thc victorious lover paid no attention to her rcmouisiranccs but kissed her hair, brow, checks and lips with the concentrated passion of months of desire. And as he grew bolder, and, drawing her on his kncc, kissed her white throat and clasped her yet more pzussionatcly. she bc~ came alarmed. She gave up struggling and had recourse to tears and (-utreaties. ' “ Let me go, oh I Please let me go 1" “ l’nhaw !" said be. He didn't say it an prettily as she did, and he didn't have such a saucy little face, but flu-n he was a good deal stronger, and Well, when he did rc- lcasc her, there were more tears and some rcproachful glances and then a su'cet little kiss of forgiveness, given without the least compulsion. She never said “ l’hhaw ‘." to him again-“that is not when she had on her bezu frock and wanted to keep her hair in order, and they are to be married next wet-k, I belicvc.â€"-[l"rom the French of Catiillc .‘IL‘IHIL‘H. A Dangerous Locality. First Trump ----- Jim, let’s get out of this» country : it's dangerous. Sec-on 'l Trampâ€"lbw; ? First'l‘ram -â€"-Won«'nthst. Nearlycvery man I meet 0 era in: rk. .. -~“ . -. -.