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v . : ‘W?' 1 ' STRANGELYCWEDDED. A Thrilling Story of Romance and Adventure. CHAPTER I. nowxnn, in“ Dn'L‘Jl-L rnovinnscz. “We must all die, and not the old alone. | The young have no exemption from that doom. __-â€"râ€"â€"â€"â€"-'â€"-â€"â€" l The chill of death reigned over thegused tobeDr'vaol..n Bishop‘s house Episcopal Palace at Blank- : I n a - ‘ I . l . ' 1;~‘1'11‘l”0n: ill-1e Ally: ‘0‘ a}: "33“ C‘mmge ll‘ll ‘ sat down and stared at the servant wuh all m up» er t 10 o x city. or on Lie plutous hex. eyes_u thcglshop of (E h lady ’James enquired. “I think not, James. “'8 don’t know the Bishop of Blankhumpton.” 5. “but he has been here several times. He “ Dr. Trei’or ” and then herladyship Really, James, ‘Ilg‘lyl' Ld‘gfifil’l)l’y Dll'11‘efrg‘1‘leu‘ic{ you have surprised me. Certainly another ‘3 "’1’ ° ‘ ‘3 locesc' hi“ 69“ “1”” “’7 cover must be laid. He will probably stay his last long home in the Cloisters of his Cathedral Church. The townsfolk had scarce as yet begun to wonder who would be the new Bishop. They were full of the quiet scholarly graces of the departed prelateâ€"thcy had forgotten how ften they had blamed him for not having been more prominent among them, for being no g tle, so full of humility and all those meek qualities whis i,us a kind of sop touur conseieuces, we make a point of attributing to Christ, and which almost universally we utterly despise in the man ! Yes. they had forgotten all the irritations, the petty ir- ritations of the past ; their spiritual head, an .u lto ‘ uncheon." Ain‘t when she was left alone, Lady Gas- coigne knew both past and present as clearly ' as if she had been Dr. Trevor himself she knev ' why so many men who had loved her beautiful daughter had ridden away hopeless and disappointed, she saw it all plainly en- lough now and she went straight past the l boudoir dear to her own room and never put ' in an appearance until the lunch-bell rang. Meantime Lady Constance had goneun- suspiciously to her visitor and found, in- stead of a portly old Bishop, an eager eyed broad shouldered man who held out two trembling hands and came to meet her with f sanctified by great sufferings had become to two eager words upon his lips_..M). darling them a dear saint in glory, whose blameless life among them would be a b to guide them on that dark road whi we must all tread one day. ch “gm beam“ 1 stance went to him without any prcte [â€"my darling,” and for answer Lady Con- shyness. like a child to its mother. “I did not know who it was,” she said, Perhaps there is no ironv so caustic as the ' with u gladdeniug in her voice. irony of‘events ! A great spiritual lord was looming in the distance, the not far distance, who would be in most things what the good folk of lllaukhampton had wished in him who had just left them ; abig heavy-jowlcd man of great dicrnity of bearing, arrogant, a patron of Christianity rather than a servant of Christ; ;a man who would make a rule of being prominent. among his people, who would be their superior in things of earth as well as in things of heaven, a man who would seldom try to be affable and if he did would invariably make all beholders wish fervently that he Would not, :1. man of the world worldly, a Bishop-of Society, not the society of his own See but that portion of the world which is called the “ Upper Ten Thousand,” and is commonly spelt with a captial As yet, however, Blankhampton was un- troublcd by the personal attributes of Bi- shops still to come ; it mourned him who was just gone, and over the Palace wherehehad held gentle sway during nearly fifteen happy and peaceful years there still hung the dim shadow of his departed presence, a cloud of mourning and woe. It was not generally known that Bishop Trevor, as already they had begun to call him, had a very romantic history. The little world of lllankhampton knew that he had been called early to the dignity of the Bench, that he had married a lady of title immedi- ately on his taking up his new office, a lady who had once been beautiful and young but who was then some five or six and thirty years old. They had set-med very happy together aml after two years Lady Constance the child her own meek and gentle life had slipped away. The child flourished and throve apace; the nurse who had charge of him was in time succeeded by a governess and the gov- erness by a tutor, and when Jack Tre- vor was a little over twelve years old the llishop, after many months of intense suffering, died, and no other misfrrw had ever come to take the place of the gentle middlcnged bride who had come home to the Palace nearly fifteen years before. So much did Blankhampton know of the matter but no more. They did not know that many and many a y \ar ago ason of the then Lord Trevor had nrlrricd for love and in defiance of his father, and that their Bis- hop was the only child of that marriageâ€"â€" that he lived in poverty and educated his only son no one knew how ; that Edward Tr sor had Won scholarships as a bov, lzad warned hinisclfthroueh a ’Varsity career without costing his father a penny beyond his modest tailcr's bill,thnthcluul wo ‘kcdon from point to point, until he. became. h-ad master of a great public school, and that as a young man he had met and worshipped her who afterwards became his wife, and dared not ask her to marry him, partly be- cause he had his own parents to support in their older years and partly because Lady L‘onstancc's people were such as would not willingly heanof their la vclicst daughter marrying into what for her position would be dire poverty. Yet Lady Constance had given all her young pars-1n, who had never set eyes on the haul of bishousc or seen ancestors, and one guy or lordly lover after another went sadly away with "no" for an an- \vcr..\nd all the best years ofhct'life wan by waiting for what she had no hope might ever conic. to ) ass. Dear, dear, what tender romances there are. sometimes in lives that seem tuthe outer world both commonplace and uneventful. It happ ‘nc-l one fair dune running that Lady Constance had been driv- ing with her mother. They had been to see her youngest married sister they Were all marrimlexcept L‘onstauce-~.\nd my lady, the (.‘ouutess, had been cxpatiating on the sin- gularity of Constance remaining so long a spinster. “I cannot tell how it is, Conuic.‘ he said, “you must have been hard to please 8- -â€"â€"I-l.\rgarct will not compare with you: for airinstant and she npvcr was, half so agreeable or so sweet tempered. and yet she . is the Mnrchicucss of Urinsby and are L‘onstaucc fiascoigne yet." “I suppouc [was hard to please, dear Mother," answered Lady Constance. smi Softlv as her heal t flew too great publi.‘ so \‘Uii . which she. had never secuwwhem he ruled! snprcmc. "Not but that I should miss you dread» fully, Connie," my lady went on tcndcrlv, “butl don't like to see Mar-gate? nits and graces and " "Never mind, dear Mother," other smiling broully now. They reached home a moment later. a said the handsome house in ‘lrusveizxir Simone, and a 2 tall servant in livery came to meet them. â€"â€""lhe llishop of lilankhamptonâ€"lzc for Lady Constance. ” “1 will go to him---â€"" said Lady-Conn “I dummy it is about the Home 0: liest. - , . .n 3 on ll come, won t you, Mother .‘ “Presently dear. Carry my books into the library. James. . The daughter went unfair: an mother went into the lib!” ry. ‘, back in her. fam-ustomcd place-«sat 1, ling. ! has} ; muc s little; 5 “There is a gentleman, my lady," he said i 35de '_ ance. i d the ' ! 1 f a f I i I ! bore her lord a son, and in giving birth to] And by and byewvhen her ladyship came in, which she'did with outstretched hand, Lady Constance cried, “Mother, you knew! ” “James told me,” she answered, and then she looked rather hard at her daughter and ponderous and held out her hand. “I am so happy, Mother,’.’ Lady Constance whispered with a blush. “Lady (,lascoigneâ€"” began the Bishop, when she stopme him. “You need say nothingâ€"I see it all,” she said. “You shall talk to Lord Gascoigne presently. \\'ill you give me your arm down the stairs ’5” It was not usual for them to go down with ceremony at that hour, and Lady Gascoigne never f‘lt the need of an arm at any time, but during the few ste as they took together. the llishop understood that it was all right and that his new honours had made the way smooth and easy for him. And the Bishop gave the intelligent James a couple of sovereigns befozc he left the house, to the further enlightenment of that function arv. the bride went down to Illankhampton. I do not know what the good folk there had ex- pected or desired, but Lady Constanc Tre- vor did not impress herself very much upon Anyway, it is certain that when she slipped quietly out of life nobody seemed to think that an irreparable loss had fallen upon the Bishopâ€"they thought it was a pity that the baby, poor little thing, badvnot gone too, on they made sure that the bereaved husband would marry again when the year was over, and if they did not say it, they most of them thought that it was to be hoped he would marry a more energetic woman next time. int they knew nothing of a terrible hour when the gentle Bishop had knelt beside his dying wife’s bed, when he had watched the life that was all the world to him, quickly ebbing away, “ Conty, Conty," -â€"he had al- ways called her Conty-â€"“ don’t leave meâ€" don’t leave ne,” he cried. “ Dear Eddy,” she answered, “I think I have to go "â€"â€"it was, ob ! such a faint, faint voiceâ€"â€"“Bnt I’ll wait in Heaven for you andâ€"~andâ€"you’ll have the chih ." “ I‘ll come as you leave me, Conty,” cried the poor lishop in an agony of grief, with the tears streaming down his face. “ That is in your hands, darling,” she said tenderly. * It was soon over after that, and Blank- hampton waited and waited for a ne‘. ' mis- tress to reign at the Palace, waited and waited in 'ai ; no other woman ever came to supplant the love of his youth, the dear wife of his days of success, and Edward, Lord Bishop of Illankhampton, as he had promised went, when his time came, to seek his Conty in the other world, as she had left him in this one. ._.___.â€". CHAPTER II. (uni. AN‘D nor. u “ A boy's will the wind's will. Sunday came and went! An immense ,... ,' heart to the straightdimbca gcxitle-ey._.,1 5 «.oiigicgauon gathered in the I .msh as the Cathedral in familiarly called in lllankhamp- -:‘n â€"' ‘o h ‘ oou" Olll'f“. the home of bu. u to d t c lust h n In t 1. lead ilk-«bop, and to listen to the address ofeulogy which was given by the Dean. in one corner of the Palace pew sat Lady 2(71ascoigncâ€"thc Countess Dowager nowâ€"â€" i l l ipiinful remembrance; of weeping copiously, as much out of genuine infection for him who was gone as for the her dear lost , daughter vbich the past week had brought And in the other cornerâ€"dds young (lascoigne 'l‘rcvor, more commonly known . s “ Jack.” That service was a terrible ordeal for the E lmv' if». was only thirteen yearsold, and the 3 ~,.. ~. apwrtioncd to the Palace was like the c-7‘.‘i‘c:-puxuling one belonging to the Deanery, i so prominently placed that its occupants i were the ol-scrved of all observers. livery = sob that escaped his grandmother’s ll 5 tore 1 his heart afresh with an agony that was 4 almost past bearing. Butonbothsidcs he i ad come of a proud stock; he had'inhcritcd the blood which can go to the stake with s smile b as the quiver of a single muscle. He. could not keep back the tears which \vould force their way from under his unwilling ieye-lids. but he would have died before he fwould have lifted a hand to wipe them away l And when all was over he had to face the ordeal of passing down the crowded have between the ranks of eager spectators, each one. securing more anxious than another to not a good look attire Countess and the "Bishop‘- only son. What do you say. my Reader? That you don't believe that any one would linger at such a time to gaze at the fresh grief of the newly bereaved! Well, all I can say is that young Jack Trevor knew lllankhampton better tbah you do! g lie. poor boy. recalled clearly enough. the ‘ time two yours before when the old Dean vixen the people in their anxiety -ha-l dicl. to miss no hing ofsnch r. raree-show as three 3 bout-broken girls. had not hesitated to hall I lav another cover for lunch, my “ Pardon me, my lady,” James answered,“ nee of ‘ ~Well in due time they were married and them. Perhaps she did not try to do so.. (1- aud will accept triumph or ruin without so i .f Granny to invite you’lo stay with us in Lou- \..... climb the three steps which led to tln Deanery pew and hang on to the door so as to get r. really satisfying look at the sobbing crape-shrouded figures still kneeling \vit‘; their faces hidden in their hands ! 80 Jack know well enough that there W115 no escape for' him, and he gave his s! ht young arm to his grandmother and pafit-d steadily throu h the throng of people, his face pale as "so in hushed yet eager voices. the two children laid their plans for tlusfnture,~ and presently a servant clinic in, search (of Ethel. . . ' x i -‘ “Miss Ethel," he said. their talkâ€"~“thc mistrch has ady for service." “Yes. Ethel answeredâ€"she was a- very polite little soul, whom the servants «but the t‘iili'c breaking in upon ‘50))? If) C: .v 3.‘ N, s» t s ~ Jerk ‘.'" she asked as James turned away. “Oh! yes." “Isis;ny Uascoi inggqiiig E" ‘ “ Yesâ€"at least believe .u'.“ ' Ethel pressed a little nearer 'to him. “Jack.” she said in an awed voiceâ€"“\Ynsn't it mrfnl this morning 2" ~ Jack could not help'shivering in spite of the bright sunshine which was streaming down upon them. “ Yes, it wasâ€"horrible,“ he answered. ‘ ' “People think it interesting to see any one in trouble,” said Ethel, with unconscious ireâ€"‘lyâ€"-”aud instead of looking th way, as they ought to, they stare as if it was a peep-show." ' “ Yes," said Jack... . . _ . There as a moment's silenceâ€"already they were walking along the pathway run- ning through the sbrubbery which divided the Palace groundsfronrthe gardens of the Clifi'e, and as they reached the little gate thrmwh which James had just passed, _Jac.k turned to his little friend. “ Ethel,” he saidâ€"“look hereâ€"I'm going to leave you my bull~pup.” , The ready tears began to fill the child‘s lovely eyes. “ 0h ! Jack," she cried-â€"tlien by n. sudden impulse she flung her arms about him and held up her sweet little face to his. “ Dear, dear Jack," she. sadâ€"â€"“but- won’t you want him dretidfully ifor your self Y” “ Yes. I daresay I shall,” Jack answered with a boy’s delightth candourâ€"â€"“ but. Crummlcs is very fond of you and he‘ll be happier down here than he would be in London.” ' “J ack,” said Ethel, “I will take care of Crununlcs for ever.” If Jack Trevor had been ten years older he would have had a tender little remark to make thenâ€"“Happy Crummles” or some.- thing of that kind: as it was be rather rough- lyâ€"t'or himâ€"disengaged himself from the tender clasp of the clinging arms, and tore. himself awn y \vif b all a boy’s aversion to any- thing approachiug to a scene. “0h ! I daresay Crummles won‘t mind, he‘ll get a very good time,” he. said gruflly, then went. back to the l’alace'through the shrub- keep the tears which would come into his eyes, from falling. “"hcn he reached the house he found the carriage at the door and Lady Gascoigne just coming down the stairs. looking oh 3 so large and so hot in her voluminous crape- laden garments that the boy's heart; fairly sank within him at the prospect of sitting through another service at. the Parish. However, happily the afternoon service at. the Parish is not a very long oneâ€"just the evensong and an anthem, and while his grandmother was settling herself in the car- riage, Jack had time to run upstairs and dash some cold water into his \vash-lmsin, into which he plunged his quivering face. A good rub with a rough towel made him look almost himsth again, and in two minutes he had brushed his fair hair into a. smooth wave across his head and was downstairs again. . And the Parish was fuller than it had been in the mo 'ning even : men and Women were Standing three deep inthe broad .centrc aisle, and in groups about the corners of the state- ly old pews, and as soon as Lady (hiscoigne and Jack were seated, at vcrger came to ask in an agonized whisperwheiher he might fill up the remaining stalls in their pew as usual? Lady Gascoiguc assented, ofcourscâ€"shc bad a. heavy crape veil behind which to hide her tearsâ€"and immediately three smart young soldiers were'put between her and Jack. Jack was thankful. He knew them all, had seen them at his father‘s table scv Cl al times and he knew that they would notstarc at him unmercifuiiy “v three women would have done. ‘ However, the serviccpassed ofl‘bctter than might have been expected. Lady flascuignc did not begin towcep until fhcanthem began: even then she only \vcpt softly and noiselessâ€" ly. “'l‘ht‘ =nuls 0fthc God Ana more shall no torment touch them. In the sight of the unwise they seem to (lie 2 And their departure is taken for misery, but they are n peace." Then followed Spohr’s “lllcst arc the do. righteous are in the hands of t ed into their seats while. the ufi'crfcry Was collected. In less than ten. minutes after that duck was leading his grandmother through the crowd once more , and the dreadful day of public suffering was over. Looking back in after years, Jack Trevor I always declared that his real boyhood end- ed on' that day, that he then became a man in reality although he had but the form of a boy. i f f f In truth at that time be was his grandmother's chief stay and er'unfcrt. And it was well that it was so ; for hereon, Lord (last-oigne, being laid up with a bad attack of gout, had not been able to go down to lllankhamplnu even for the fnnc'al, and, - necessarily, it was impcmtive for t w.- execu- tors to lose no time in arran'viugthc llishop's affairs and in deciding w‘,‘ i... of his belong- ings \vero tobe keptfur hisson and whichwvrc to be sold, as he linddirL-cfed. by auction. had arranged almost everything, had separ- ated the pretty modern' furniture which the dead llishop and Uouty had bought, from the stately suites of carved oak, black and wounds and all lwr jewellery, and them: had lleell packed r -' dy to be taken m'hcr liO'dhfi in London. ’1‘ to horses were all delivered over to the lender mercies of a local dealer and were to be sold during the following week, with the exception of a particularly handsome grey cobwbich had been for sum ml _\'L‘.’ll.‘s a which Lady fiascoignc thoughtwould bcsuit- able for Jack to ride. Aral last but certain:- ly not least. the evening before Jack and Lady (lascaigm: were to leave the l’ulaoy, the boy \tcnt m'vr to the Chile to Crumndes. the bull-pup to his new home ‘aud mistress. ' ‘ “You know, Jack." “I rcdlywldirt-think rib: coigne the week .before his death. . “But,” persisted the old lady, “many tc the Palace and tried to eat a miserable ing out his sermons and his addresses to the strip of meadow-land which ran to the bank the bright August sunshine, and as Jack sat. so well. Her tears were so ready to flow, Palace now." “I don’t know. I shall come back when I g "Oh! well, Mary is dnffer, there‘s no (.eath, his eyes dimmed with tears, yet with his head well up in air, a boy with the heart of a man ! The Bishop had left his son to the guardian- ship of‘ his uncle, Lord Gascoiguc‘. coupled with a wish that he should spend as inucl time with his gmrfdmother, Lady Gascoigne, as that inth and’Jack himself should wish. ,“I should like~'him to be with you as.possible;" he had said -to Ladyfi‘vus I “ l_‘ is a goodbov, very brave and truthful, and i don't think you will find him much trouble." “Edward,” said the old Countess steadily "Jackis the very/light of my'old ageâ€"«my~ Connie‘s boy whom she hardly saw, As you say, he brave and truthful ;‘ but if he , were notâ€"if lwfwerehprrid, as many boys of his age are, I would still carry out all your wishes if only out of my gratitude to you for having been the best of husbands to my girl and for major havingput another ' woman in her place.” ' “Ivncvcr thought ofit,” he said. men would have thou ht of it, most men would have thought- 0 it, fo- after. a wife like Connie, you must have beenoftcn lonely and wretched. Many a. man would have. married agaiubecauso the empty: life was too grievous to’bear. ”’ “I never thought of it,” repeated the Disho ) simply,-and even then he did not tell her of that last- sad promise he had made. his Conty ;_ thatvv'as’a. thing between him andhcr .too sacrcdito repeat even to her mot-her. “'ell, Lady Gascoigno and Jack went back meal, which ended in tho‘ old Countess going off to her own room to keep quiet until time for the afternoon service at the Parish, and Jack forlorn and wretched, not liking to go to the stables, as was usual with him after luncheon on Sundays, foundhimsclf somehow walking slowly and aimlessly through the \Yest Garden. Now the \Vcst Garden was one of the prettiest bits about the Palace ! Jack‘s mo- ther had loved it, and thellishophad been ac- customed to spend many hours pacing slowly up and down its neatly-kept pathways think- youngâ€"thinking often too of her who had so often walked there hand in hand with him. So Jack, hallowed by thoughts of him for whom his grief was yet fresh, found himself walking aiming the bridrht-hucd ' flower beds towards the bank of t. K: river. iAnd as he walkeda voice called-to him soft- yâ€" . , “ Jack,” it saidâ€"“ Jack.” , _ Jack Trevor quickencd his footsteps as he - heard it. ‘V‘ Is it you, Ethel '2” he answered. The garden at this point ended in a nar- row shubbery, which in its turn led into a of the river. A little wooden gate led from this slirubberyto the meadow, and at this gate waen Jack, reached it he found the owner of the voice standing. “ Oh ! Jack door,” she cried, “. I wanted so to see youâ€"J did write. “'0 are so sorry, Jack, so sorry all of us. Aud’I was in the Parish this morning, Jack, and I cried all the time.” . . . _ “ Let’s go and sit on the bank, Ethel,” said Jack holding out his hand. » So together they went, Jack and his friend Ethel, and sat down on the river’sbank in with his hand in hersâ€"not because they were by way of being sweet-hearts or in the habit of showing endcarments towards one another, but only and solely because Jack was in troubleâ€" he began in some ixnlefinablc way to be con‘ifortcd. His grandmother had tried with all her heart to comfort him, it is true, but- with indiil‘ercnt success, for every tear and sob that escaped her lady- ship had only seemed to rive the. heart of the boy more cruelly. Lady f'lascoignc was big, and soâ€"so sloppy, yes, I know it‘s a vulgar word, yet nothing else seems .to express her her tongue was incessant. her reminiscences agonising. Ethel was different, she was so gentle and no r pretty, she had known the Bishop ever-so much better than his mother- in-law- had done. _ ‘ Shel mourned “for him with all her true and tender childish heart, yet tearsvdid not have the efTeet.of flurrying her whole face as always happened with Lady (lascoigncétears only made her eyes look like forgetome-nots after a shower of ‘am. “ Mother says, Jack,” said Ethel present- ly “ that you will be going away from the “Yes. I am going to live with my grand- mother.” he answered. “In London?” “Yes.” “Will you never come back to B ankhamp- ton again 2" “0h ! yes, some day.” It was a subject on which just then Jack was very loth to enter; but if the very young are good comforters, somctimcs they prove themselves unconscious inquisitors of the first degree. All uncon- sciously Ethel went on. ' “When do you think, Jack ‘1” have a chance. I should have had to gonch month in any case.” “Yes,” Ethel sighedâ€"“Boys do have to go to schoolâ€"but I missed you awfully last year ; and 1 shall miss you now, I know." l “You will have Mary llamfylde ’l he 3 began. l “Yesâ€"but- Mary lamfylde liken dolls." ; with contemptuous emphasis on the word. ' “and she screams if-she scesarat, am] a wasp sends her out of her mind. Shedmsn't ' know hzw to bait a fish-hook nor climb a 1 tree norâ€"nor anything "’ doubt about it," Jack said in a tone of quiet convictionâ€"â€"‘"l‘hcrc‘s Dolly 'l‘cuncntrâ€"v-she's i no goodpshc's such a mean little thing ; and ' there is Lucy \‘ivian, she isn’t much better, i Well really. Ethel. unless you can put up : with the Lawrence‘s, I don't see what you an"! do." V “I can't bear the Ltnvrenccs,'y Ethel. “They'll be better than nothing," said ', Jack-“and when I get my holidays perhaps : Mrs. Mordaunt will ask me do m here-«and f 1'“ tell you what 13'“ do, Ethel, I'll ask , l cried f dog for a litllc girl of ten years old ~bnt Ethel ha? set boom-art upon Crunnules so l on 1 man. over in. ‘ l‘lgli‘l yes, Mdthcr." cried Ethel. “0h ! yes, Islrs. Biox'dauzit,” echoed Jr. ‘ wistfully. It was per . (1611 or Wherever we are." Q "Will on, Jack? Oh I that will be lovely. I know Mother will ask you down hereâ€"I'll gctdxcr to ask Lady fiascoigne be- ;unn ska aid-a. I know she w'" ” hu. ck 13596 & little hard on Lin) to 1 ll come in James. thank you." i '.voislxipped.. "Are you going to servicc. ,‘ ‘ 1 f c other. bevy and the \Ve-st Garden, winking hard to . ~ parted,” and then the congregation subsid- I l f shining with the polish nf \‘omt's', whivh be» ; messagi- longed to tho l’alnec, sue ba-l Lth . aside. all i and the Words are spoken off to him. the most valuable of her daughter sum-«bung A .lm-c my, if an got-A,- wcu, on; may hum. the i A. l). l l f 9 great, favorite of [be llislzop‘.‘ and. fake. said l'itlit'l's mother, . ill-pup is 7qu the ' have his parting gift. to his old ayfcf. and friend regardml in the light 0 a persoi - :xl favour towards him miller than from him. .fievhndgivcn Ethel his dearest possession, ugh-albpnp of the true .\lal.-.;l~..uu strain. he laud oflcrcd if after a timer struggle with hit-iself. and had with dull-sully kept lupi- seli from going luck ( n his word. giving as papreiexu. iis duubt- tlmtrGrummles would 4.." 'le ‘u l llc\\' home or the emchiunu‘s fear ..‘.i lit-s dog was not yet over the distemper. .~\n=l ill-:11 to haye liis.prt‘ciotl$ pup received as if he. were being given a grudging homo out. of elm-ii ‘ to him and kindness-to the zivcrl' "Vl’i-l, it was" hard, and that is where grown-up peoplc are often so stupid and so unscein‘g If Mrs. Mordaunt had realized the depth of unselfishucss and nobility which had their home within young Jack Trevor's bosom. her line of action from that day would have been so different that this story pmhably could never have been written for the simple rcascn 11 t it. would not have been ilici'v to write As it. was she had yieldedto l‘lthcl‘s eutrcatics and understood nothing that was going on in the boy's heart. Ethel did. but at. that. moment «Ethel hardly counted, .lack'only knew that she was the pluckiest little chum he had ever had. "lle‘ nico hoy,"‘ said Mrs. Mordaunt to her husband a little. latcrâ€"“but really I am not altogether Sorry that he is Ming. away, although it is true that we shit i never get such a neighbou ' as the dear Bishop again. But Ethel is getting. as wild as a hawk, more like a boy than a girl." “She might be worse,” remarked Major Mordnnnf, who had always been a great. friend of Jack 'l‘rcvor‘sâ€"“the boy is as honest as the day and as plucky as " “Oh ! yes, yes," his wife broke. in-J‘but there. are other things to consider in a girl's training than those.” * “H‘m,” muttered the .\Iajor-â€"“I don’t know so much about thatâ€"honesty and pluck make a very decent ground workâ€"vs â€"â€"ry decent, my dear." (To us. t‘oN'l‘l::L’l-ZD.) ‘. i‘. ii l‘. .â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"-â€"¢-â€"-â€"~â€"â€"â€"â€"-â€" _ OUR EXPERIMENTAL FARMS. A Valuable onlnlon on Their Pun-flea! Iflilltr. Mr. Henry F. Moore, of the. .lfa:'l‘1.¢um Ea‘ln'rss, Hall‘s "Walsh; .ll'cxsenyn', Farmers' Mayan/w, and agricultural writer for the London 'l‘fnirs, the othcrday called upon the Minister of Agriculture at Ottawa who sul» sequcntly conducted him to tlicexpcrimcntal far in. Speaking of his visit Mr. Moore said he was amazed at the extent and value of tho improvcmcnts that had been made at the farm since he visited it two years ago. “Then,” he said, “it was as rough as a person would wisa to sc'- ; tu-day i found it had been brought to wonderful ordc ' and is now in such a good state of tilth that in this respect as well as in general appear- ance it would be no discredit to the older model farms of l‘lngland. 'f'hcrc is, besides, some magnificent stuck on the farm. There in bound to result from the establishment of these experimental farms an immense deal of good to the country. You will be able to test by experiments the. most suitable kinds of new vegetables and cereals for this country, thus giving the farmers additional eyes and brains for the business in which they are engaged. The great hem-fit of experiments comes from the fact that they are made on the spot. for the lesson of ex- periment is only valuable when learned in the locality in which if. is to be put in prac- tice.” Mr. Moore gave a number of reasons to support his belief in a higher price for \vh *at this season, among them the shortage of the American and l'luropcan harvests and the. failure of the potato crop in Lac llrit- ish Islands. Speaking of the live cattle trade, he hoped. be said, that the people of Canada would be prepared to support the policy of the Government in maintaining the stringency of the regulations in regard to the admission of U. S. cattle. In no other vay could the :ulvanfugcs now enjoyâ€" ed byUulntdiun cattle exporters in England be maintained. The llrifish farmers are favorable to the importation off'anadiau cattle, which are landed alive. and futtu-mnl nil English pastures with the aid of English capital. Askcdif the substitution of L'tdoga, or any earlier ripening variety of win-at. would nl~_-prcciafc the superior price now obtained for Manitoba wheat in England, Mr. Pain-ire said not. Canadian win-at is valued for its hardness. 'l'haf quality is not found in the same rcd fyfc wheat grown in England, but is given to it by the peculiar soil and cli- mufc conditions of the North-West country and of com my other variety would ac- quirc in Manitoba that valuable, quality of hardness, . just as the red fyfc has done. The Ladoga, or a new varietym the Arng (.‘anmlian--â€"thc latter recently obtained in England by experiment, \vnuld attain under the conditions that obtain in (.,'an:ul:t the hardness that makes your wheat invaluable in lingiish millcra sincc the introduction of the roller process. iii: 1 _____â€".â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"- Only Four Phonograpba in England. In l‘lngland, I am told. there an: only four ph-mog 'uphs. including the one in the possession of Mr. and Mrs. Stanley; but, tlwy manage things better than this inkuch ldaers as Mexico. 'J'ht-rc a‘planuk'l'upli is to be placed in each principal pot office. and lllU:~(.' people who can neither had our flat at the end of a week Lady (iilfi=.'fvf'h'll(" write, or are too lazy to do so, simply dc- . liver their message into the phonograph, tho i cylinder is forwarded to its destination, and fdue nulin havng been given him that. his l presence is required, the rcce’rcr of the attends the ofliee at tho utht-r end. I “an”. “.1. convenience in England about 1000 o Unfceling Man. , “ When you ask your liuslund for money , and he refuses, v-m what do you do 2'" l "i go u'ilbmit." l ” l sawin tin.- pzipcm the other «lay that : win-n mxzilcs and cajolrcy failed to movi- n. lw-lnnd tears would. and l ricd that : 12H lll'Nl." “ With what success?" “ He told me toalrj up." â€".â€"â€"~-â€"-â€"-â€"â€"-â€"o llr. Carver, the shooter and “Wild funer- 5 fax” proprietor. beat his own record at flu-r- 3 lin, Germany. by 4 minutes and ‘1') hmynuln, ’, by breaking UM glasgballs with a ml.- in ‘ exactly 1“ minute». The shwtiizg took a place in the presence of 30,000 people. . i Money by any other name would go as fast.