so . r. p! u “ .3; ’ a «marwws-“eenaâ€"mn», new, .«u 1 r. .2...» .. s» i» iv ' 1 . d- ,- .. 3? . I, .‘3 ‘- ° pi .. s .* “,1, a... new “‘r' BY 0. G. FURLEY. CHAPTEBII. The effect‘of thepar’rolfs querywas startl- ing. Colonel Farrer started up in such haste that his chair fell clattering to the ground, and with such a pallet overspreading his ruddy countenance that all of us with one ac- have conï¬ded cord stood up too, and cried out, “ What’s the matter!†“What did that brute mean 2†gasped the Colonel. “ What does it know about Barn Asoka! I didn’t want to kill the old! fool. if only he had been sensible and not made such a confounded fuss about. his heathen temple. It was a judiciï¬ï¬xeguzioptf itwasnecesearytothepeaceo e 13 r1 I didn’t want to do it, if Ram Asoka hadn’t brought it on himself.†“ Perha Colonel,†said I, “it would be a good thing if Polly were to give us his ver- sion of the aï¬'air." From white the Colonel’s aspect changed to yellow. “ Sh i What? What do you mean 2" he exclaimed. “ Are you jestmg? It's no joke, I tell on. The native papers, confoundthem, sai â€"-and they pa too much attention to native opinion nowa aye. And -â€"-Will no one stop that abominablebi 3’ For the parrot was so delighted With his coup that he had burst into a shriek of Wild laughter, in which I seemed to detects tone of mocking triumph. ' “ atha, do take the bird away," said Mrs. (stretton; and Polly was taken down~ stairs and immured in his cage, still laugh- ing in that grim and ï¬endish fashion. “ But now, Colonel,†said Mrs. Gretton when the hubbub had ceased, “do tell us all about Ram Asoka.†I could see that the subject did not please the Colonel ; but as a matter of fact he had not the courage to refuse to speak on it. His story was so incoherent, so full of ex- planations and excuses, thatâ€"taken in con- 'unction with subsequent eventsâ€"it roused in me a curiosity to read the accounts of the affair which were given in those native papers the Colonel so disliked. From their statements it appeared that Colonel Farrer had been sent to investigate a quarrel between the Buddhist and Mohammedan residents in an out-ofâ€"the-way village. The Mohammedans wanted to draw water from a well which the Buddhists regarded as sacred to their god; and religious feeling had been somewhat strained. The Colonel’s instructions were to declare the well public property, and he was‘provided with soldiers who were ordered to see that the Mussul- mans were not interfered with when they approached the spring. The matter might easily have been settled on the basis of a compromise suggested by Ram Asoka, the Buddhist priest, who only asked the Mohammedans to avoid the well till the water necessary for the use of the temple had been drawn each day. This arrangement had been all but completed when the Colonel arrived; but instead of giving his assent to it, he chose toetake up the Moham- medan cause with quite unnecessary zeal, moved chiefly, it was said, byadesire to sack the Buddhist temple, which contained, among other more modest treasures, a large and valuable ruby, traditionally supposed to have fallen from heaven at the feet of the chief idol in the place. The Colonel and his men entered the temple, de- stroyed the idols, and killed Ram Asoka on the steps of his desecrated alter; after which the Colonel stooped and took from the priest’s dead hand the riceless ruby he had vainl tricdtosave. t is more than ossible t t the native papers exaggerated lonel Farrer’s guilt: but it is certain that the odium he incurred on this expedi- tion made his resignation advisable ; and it did look rather bad that after his motives for appropriating it had been so sharply impugned, he should have retained and set in akring the stone he had taken from Ram so a. I need hardly say that the story as told by the Colonel differed in many points from this which I have set down ; but his frequent- ly-repcated statement that Ram Asoka brought his death upon himself, his loud declarations that he had a right to keep the ring, were calculated to rouse in any mind not deeply biossed in his favourâ€"in mine, for exampleâ€"a ï¬rm conviction that the annexation of the ruby of its protector could not be justiï¬ed on any strict reading of the principles of either law or honour. True it was that Mrs. Gretton said “ Of course,†and “ Yes. indeed, dearColonelFarrer,â€at every {2088 in her guest’s narrative; and that uiso gave it as her opinion that itwas bet- ter the stone should be on the Colonel’s hand than hidden in an Indian village where no one could see it. But Agatha and Iwere silent. “ What- do you think of the new-comer 2†I asked my sweetheart in the few precious ninutes that Mrs. Gretton allowed us each waning to say good-night. “ He 3 a murderous old wretch,†she re- plied with great promptitude. “ He killed ‘hat poor old priest just in order to steal 'he ruby; I’m sure of it. Butâ€"butâ€" frank, how is it that Polly known so much bout the aï¬â€˜air? “ I don't know. That’s the ueerest hing about the matter. TheColone hadn’t nentioned Ram Asoka when Poll bowled mt his very pertinent inquiry. â€"â€"if one lid believe in the transmi ration of souls end the repetition of the loam miracle! lut modern Buddhism is sheer humbug. ltill, it’s funn ." No doubt ought to have passed the musing on the roblem if the parrot. But I didn‘t; slept uncommonly well. I think that, speaking generally, one does not get up the proper unctional condition for any event till the went itself is past. Then we are full of :etrospoetive \dmiration, awe, or fear ; but it the moment did we feel at all? I think not. Idoubt if we could do our work in "on passable st do if at the moment of‘ action we stop to think of its nature, or analysed how it might move our souls. Let light awake, me .nlmit that I never felt anything tobe which almost looks like a great was fretting the cut Polly taken offend laid on the mantle-piece ; the ï¬nger was tenderly bound up; and Mrs. Gretton herself shut up the ar cage with the assurance that he was “a naughty, wicked Pollv. †started at the words. in that bird,†he cried. Then I asked for Age. “ She has a bad headache. She won’t be" and the execution g f‘ What is the matter 2" I asked, seeing that my sweetheart looked troubled. “‘Ob, nothing 2" she answered; but she left the room, and Mrs. Gretton hastened after her. Ifelt annoved that Agatha should not her vexation, whatever it was, to me; and I wanted to have my annoyance out on somebody. The Colonel was handy. “ That was an interestin story you told uslast night, Colonel,"I gan. “Itwas queer, though, that the parrot should have known so much about it.†“The parrot! It knew nothing," said the Colonel, and I could see he was testy." “ I knew the name of Ram Asoka, which was strangeto nsall. I rather think we have to thank Polly for the narration of that interesting incident of frontier adminis tration. †The Colonel granted; ‘ “ We’re all rather fond of the bird," I went on, ostentatiously caressing the parrot, who was standin at the open floor of his cage ; “ but you on’t seem to appreciate his familiarity with your adventures.†“‘Oh ! I don’t mind. Itâ€"it’s rather amusing to have a parrot echoing all you sa ." )1â€ko had echoed nothing, he had taken the initiative in mentioning our uest’s doings ; but that was how the Colone chose to ut it. ' 0 show his liking for the parrot’s smart- ness, he came up to the cage and stretched out his hand to caress it, as I had been doing. But Polly did not take the courtesy as it was meant ; he turned his head and made a vicious dab at the Colonel’s hand- at the ï¬nger on which he wore the ring. He managed to bite it pretty smartly too 3 and the Colonel darted back, uttering many im- precations, to which the parrot replied with equal volubility. Mrs. Gretton and Louisa entered upon this scene, and on learning what had happened, hustled about for bandages and water for the wounded hand. The precious ring, which had made, was rot in his “ Who killed Ram-Asoka ‘2†he shrieked deï¬antly in reply and even now the Colonel “ I think a ï¬end is “ I think Ram Asoka is," I answered. the. down to breakfast.†- “ Why didn’t she tell me that her head achcd '2†V “ 0h ! don’t bother, Mr. Laurence ; a headache isn’t a deadly malady-Tea or coffee, Colonel?†‘ ~ I was shut up; but I was cross and be- wildered. Agatha might have told me [of her headache ;eveu a. very bad headache doesn’t make a. girl rush out of the room with tears in her eyes and without saying a word to her lover, I burned through with my breakfast. Before I had ï¬nished, ' I heard the front. door clasc quietly {and look: ing out, imagined I saw Agatha’s ï¬gure passing the window. Mrs. Gretton and ouisa exchanged a. glance of intelligence. “Is that Agatha. gone out ?†I asked. “ Very likely. The air would do her head good. †Ihurried from the room, neglecting the parrot’s plaintive cry, “ Let out Ram Asoka,†and tried to follow her. But before I could overtake herâ€"she was lost in the bustle of Southhampton Row, and I had to betake myself to my ofï¬ce unsatisï¬ed. I don’t think I did much work that day. I know that I was abominably cross, that I bullied my clerk, blotted my letters, and cursed my pens, and even came near to quarrelling with one of my rare clients, who wanted to have an unimportant change made in ahouse I had designed for him. I wasted my time so well that when at last I controlled my irritation and attended to some matters that could not be delayed, I had to remain at the ofï¬ce till much beyond my usual hour. I got home just about din- ner-time, and found the household in the reatest confusion. †Oh! Mr. Laurenceâ€â€"â€"-â€"Mrs. Gretton began, rushing out upon me in the hall. “Where’sA atha‘2" I interrupted. “ Agatha ! S We out. But I wanted"â€" “ Has she been out all day 2†“ No. She came home for lunch, and went out afterwards, just as usual. She'll be in to dinner.â€"But, Mr. Laurence, the Colonel’s ringâ€"â€"his beatiful ruby ringâ€"has disappeared. " p I almost ejaculated, “ Vl’hat is that to me 2†but restrained myself, and asked, “ What has become of it 2" “ We don’t know. It is terrible ! To think of a man like Colonel Farrer, my poor dear husband’s friend, being robbed in my house. Oh, what shall I do '3†Mrs. Gret- ton began to cry, and her distress pierced the thl 2k crust of my egoism and annoyance. “ Tell me how it- happened," I asked. “ When was the ring missed ‘2" “ Not half an hour ago ; but it must have been gone for hours." “ When did you notice it last?†“ Just after luncheon. It had been lyin on the mantel~ iecc, where I put it when took it of the .olone '5 hand, all the storm in . I should have locked it away in some as e place, I know; but in the confusion I didn t think ; and I knew Jane to be as hon- est as the day, though the Colonel declares he’ll have her box examined, and she an orphan, and it’ll be the ruin of her charac- tar." “ How do you know the ring was on the mantel-piece after luncheon 2†I asked judicially, interrupting my landlady’s wail. “ Because Louisa took it up and tried it on her ï¬ngerâ€"only she and Agatha and I were inâ€"«and said, “Isn't it level 2†and Agatha answered, “ Yes ; I won or how much money. is shut up in that crystal, ' spot of monotonous that ever happened to me, till blood 2" I remember exactly what she said, long after it» was over. I slept sound and late. When I entered to the bird the dining-mom next morning, Agatha, her words and here, but had 1 Blood ! Blood-money, blood-money gatha and hire. 5 ‘ aside. As I came in .‘ with a lau h. aunt, an the Colonel Were not begun breakfas;.. Grettan were talking A I heard the latter say, ‘ Well, you can’t do; A: the same time she handed tOTIhht. any.‘ Agatha a letter she had been reading, and A5102. hurriedhr thrust it into her pocket. because Poll â€"I can't think what has come ese two days lâ€"icaught up her screaming out, “Money! “Polly has brains. m his head, " I said “ Oh, r. Laurence, don't speak like The poor Colonel, with. his hand hurt gone! There Polly sat on top 1 and his ring pping his wings, and crying of his cage, Blood~money 2’ me nervous, and I was glad to get out of the room» a _. And then 2" l, _ “Oh! that's all I know.. I went down- stairs to help Jane, and'Agatha and Louisa both went out: and whm the Colonel, who had been at the War Ofï¬ce or somewhere, came home and remembered his ring. it wasn’t to be seen anywhere", “ " ‘ ~ lVe had a very uncomfortable’dinner that dayâ€"cold salmon, cold lamb, cold tart ; the cold and stale remains of yesterday’s feast, and a deeper coldness anddepression weigh- in on those who ate it. The Colonel’s loss 'li not, trouble - me ; I did not love him well enough for that ; but Agatha had not come home, to dinner, and her vacant chair was a veztation to my eye. An electric discomfort ï¬lled the rest of the party. Mrs. Gretton would fain havebegun to cry ; Lousia looked at her mother with furtive glances of warnin and reproof ; and poor Jane nearly droppe the Colonel's plate when she met the distrustful glare in his a;eg eye.~ Only the parrot; though imprison in his cage, kept up a‘ivild hilarity and laughed and chuckled like a bind eased. . ' I left the party still in .the dining-room, discussing the missin ,ring, and retired to a small room at the bac of the hall where I was free to smoke and sulk., Before long I heard a latchkey in the door, and guessed it was Agatha coming in. I was going out to meet her, but Louisa was before me. She met her cousin in the hall : “ 0h, A' atha,’.’ she exclaimed, “ the ring is gone. hat’s tobe done ?" ' Then Agatha answered in a voice I had never heard from her lips before, a' dull des- pairing wail :. “ I couldn’t help 1it, Lou. Will needed the money to-day. I shall get my salary in a day or two, and I thought I could get the rin back then, and neither Frank nor anybo y would know.†Louisa started back with a shocked ex- clamation. ‘ Agatha hurried towards the staircase ; but as she reached it I caught her in my arms. “ My darling, what is the matter l†I exclaimed. ' - She wrenched herself free. “ I’ll tell you to-morrow, Frank; let me alone for to-night. †She hurried upstairs ; and while I stood hesitating about following her, I heard a confusion of exclamations in the dining-room and Louise’s voiceâ€"did I wrong her in thinking it contained a tone of spiteful sat- isfaction 2â€"saying, “ She admits it herself. It was for Will’s sake'Agatha stole the ring.†so BE common.) How She Doctered Him. While six gentlemen were waiting at a depot in a small town in Arkansas, in America, a coloured woman came up and asked if anyone was a doctor. One of them was, and she rolled her check apron in her. handsin a fussy way,‘ 'and asked if he wouldn’t “ jist step ober tu de cabin an’ see what ailed her ole man.†He found that he had time and said he would go, and two or three of the others went with him. As they drew near the cabin the woman halted and .said, I“ I’ze bin all de doctah he’s-had, and Pie Willin’ to allow dat I might er made somemistakes. I gin him turnip seed tea. Was dat right, doctah '2" “ I guess so." “ Later on I chang- ed to a poultice of wild onions. qus dat, right?†“ It I might have been.†“ Den" I soaked his feet in hot water ‘wid wood ashes in it, and put a mustard poultice on de back of his neck †“ Yes.†“ Den he allowed be felt wuss, an’ so I changed de mustard to his stomach, an’ soaked his head. He dun complained all de mawning,’ au’now I’ze got mustard on his ' feet, a poultice on the middle, horse radish on his neck, an’ he’s takin’ sassafras tea. to warm up do inside.†“Well 1†“Well, if dere’s been any mistake doan’t let on to de ole man. Just skip it ober.†The doctor went and examined the patient and found he had a broken rib, and told him what to do for it. ' As he left the cabin the woman fol- lowed him out and exclaimed, “ Fo’ the ,Lawd, doctah, but what a blessin’ dat you dun'fcome along! Inwas «dun doctorin’ de ole man fur softenin’ of do brain, an’ if I hadn’t cotehed you to-day I was don gwine to t‘ry'to harden ’em up by mixin’ sand wid his porridge !†The Ravager; of Panic. Here, in the shape of a story hailing from the East, is a capital parallel, or rather ant- idote, to the Sultan’s fatalist telegram on the ravages of the cholera. One day as a pious Mollah was riding into Sm a his donke was seized by a hideous 100 in ï¬g- ure. t was the Cholera spectre. “ I now thee,†said the holy man ; “ what mischief art thou now planning ‘2†“I am going into Smyrna," re lied the Cholera, “with a. com~ mand from ah to kill 700 of the faithful." “ Get up behind me,†said the Mollah, “ we will enter the city to ether.†As they drew near the gates the ho yman said, “I conjure you, in the name of Allah, and by the pure faith of a Moslem, that thou wilt not slay one more than the Lord has commanded. †The Cholera took the oath, alighted from the donkey, and at once set about his commission of slau hter. Instead of 700, however, 7000 of the aithful died during the period of the Cholera’s visitation. When the Cholera had ï¬nished his appointed work, and was about to depart from Smyrna, the Mollah again met him. “ How is it," demanded he, “that thou hast committed so great a perjury, and violated thy oath to Allah that thou would- eat not slay more than 700 T" “I have slain the 700," answered the Cholera, “ neither more or less. All the others have been slain by Panic, and not by me ; blessed be Allah!’ Bank of England Goï¬ers. The Bank of En land is the custodian of a large number of res deposited by cus- tomers for safety during thepast 200 years, and in not a few instances forgotten. Many of these consignments are not only of rare intrinsic and historical value, but of great romantic interest. For instance, some years the servants of the bank discover- ed in its vaults a chest, which on being moved literally fell to pieces. On examining the contents, a uantity of massive plate of the period of $harles II. was discovered, along with a bundle of love letters indited during the , 'od of the rerun targtion. The directors 0 the bank, caused search to be made in their books, these re- sentative of the original de “ ' ref 1'. was discovered, and the let- ters handed over. There are three thin s that beat a drum for noiseâ€"one is a 3 boy and the other two are drumsticks. When he 'was ï¬rst tooken , A STORY OF THE FBANOOâ€"PBUSSIAN WAR. ' ' A French Soldier Saves ms Smotheart Prom Dishonor and Both are Inl- ed b the lies-ones: Prussian, At the time of the declaration of the Franco-German warAlphonse Dolor-ins was living quietly ~with his only son, Andre, upon their little farm, situated between St. Genevieve and Fleury. The youth was but nineteen years of e, and, his mother hav- ing died in his ' ancy, the whole of the r old man’s affection was centered in the y. When the dread war cloud burst over France young Delorme, who was a youth of ardent, adventurous spirit, determined to defend his cormtry against the Prussians. The old man had naturally many misgivings, but was too triotic a Frenchman to in- terfere with t e wishes of his son, who forthwith enlisted as a private in a foot regiment early in the month of August. These were stirrin times, and the corps young Andre joine was ordered to the front, and the lad went away to the frontier pftï¬r bidding an affectionate adieu to his at er. 'rns Lovsa’s FAREWILL. Andre had a sweetheart, a beautiful young girl of 17 who lived some three miles from the house of his father, and he was allowed by special permission of his colonel to go and bid, her farewell e’er his regiment marched for the theatre of war. The parting between the youn lovers was a. most affecting one, and An re’s ï¬ance with her own hands placed a rose as a tribute of ‘her love inside his kepi as he gave -her a ï¬nal embrace be- fore he started off on a starry midnight to rejoin his regiment, which was under orders to marchat daybreak.‘ It would be makin the tale too long to follow the fortunes 0 young Andre durin the war, but sufï¬ce it to saythathe behave , with cons icuous bravery in several engage- ments. ictory, however, rested with the arms of the German troops, and young Andre was mortally wounded in a ‘ierce cage. 3- ment near Choisy while saving the life 0% a wounded oflicer of his regiment who had been attacked by half a dozen Ger mans. He knew that his condition was hopelessâ€" the regimental surgeon told him so-and be determined to make his way to the house of his ï¬ance, and to bid her farewell before he died. The undertaking "was a dangerous one, for the country was overrun-with Ger- mans, who had entered Montlery and estab- lished; a. cam near the residence of his sweetheart, etween Saint-Genevieve and Fleury. However, young Delorme knew the country well, and by the~ exercise of great caution managed to elude ,his foes. He painfully- dragged himself through the woods and by paths known only to the na- tives of that part of France, and thus was able to reach the home of his beloved un- perceived. The young girl, Jeanne Bernier, lived in a pretty white'jfarm house surround- gd by vineyards, with a spacious yard in ten . i A arsLANOHoLv rascsnv.’ On the eve of- a hot. autumn day the dy- ing soldier arrived at the gate with ‘his uni- form blood-stained, torn and covered with dust and his wan features rigid with pain. Poor Andre knew he had not many hours to live, for the blood was again beginning to flow from the W01md where the foeman’s bullet had pierced his breast. He could not open the door, so he broke the glass in one of the windows, and raising it quietly, entered the house and made his way to the room where he knew he would ï¬nd his ï¬n- unce. On opening the door, what was his horror to ï¬nd J eanne struggling terriï¬ed in the arms of a Prussian ofï¬cer, whose object it was not difï¬cult to determine. Andre, maddened with rage, braced himself up and ï¬red his loaded revolver at the cowardly as- sailant of the young girl, Who rolled over dead on the floor with a. bullet through his heart. The young lovers had barely time to embrace each other when a body of Prus- sian soldiers, who had heard the report of the ï¬rearms, burst into the house and en- tered the room. When the saw the French uniform and their dead 0 car lying on the floor, they with brutal violence DRAGGED THE DYING SOLDIER. from the arms of the almost fainting girl, and taking him outside, placed him roughl against the wall for instant execution. 1’1; was in vain that Jeanne pleaded with Andre’s captors to let him die in ace ; the soldiers pushed her aside and a 5 e of rifle- men were drawn up, who leveled their guns at the ï¬gure of the dyin soldier, whose life blood was welling fort over his travel- stained uniform and dripping on the ground. With a. su reme effort the youth strai hten- ed his bac against the wall and, do antly facing his foes, exclaimed, “ I die for my country and my fiance.†While the men were making ready to ï¬re J eanne crept closer and closer, and when she'saw the lips of the man in charge of the ï¬ring party about to give the fatal order she rushed in with outstretched arms as if to shield her lover, and when the smoke cleared away there were two corpses on the ground, each pierced with several bullets. The lovers were buried side by side in two graves in the little cemetery of Saint Gen- evieve des Bois witha tombstone at the head of each. The young girl’s grave bore a sentence in French intimating that she had been “killed by the enem ," and on the anniversary of the death of erself and her lover the youths and maidens of the adjacent villages cover their graves with flowers. ~ A 24 Story Building. 1 At Chicago ca ital has been subscribed, the ground pure seed and plans drawn for the construction of the tallest ofï¬ce building in the world. The site of the structure is 110 feet of frontage on Dearborn street. The building will be 24 storeys hi h, surpassing the tower of the Auditorium by six storeys and the Masonic Temple by ï¬ve. Steel will be the chief material. A Strange Reminder. Earl in January Germany was curiously remin ed of the fact that just twenty years had elapsed since the great war With France by the number of young men eligiblrfor military service in t e coming spring being exceedingly small, owing to the great diminution in the number of births in 1871. It is now learned that most of the mountain districts of Franconia will not contribute a single recruit in April. ENHANCE QE. Two Slums, ism I‘lrstto The Robin the ' cheer. BringUsSpring. The Order in Which the Feathered Son;- sters Come Back to Us. The season has returned when the migra- to?7 birds will soon be with us again. he can tell the ï¬rst bird that reviaim Ontario after the stomy winter is fairly broken 2 The ï¬rst bird to return is the robin. The robin is known as wanderer on the» face of the earth. He usually makes his appear. ance early in February, when the ground is still niuutled in snow and ice, and when, it would seem, he could ï¬nd nothing to eat. The robin visits every part of the Dominion. He makes his mud-sputtered nest on an ap- ple bough in the orchard. The eggs are usually of a blue-green color, and from four to six in number. The second bird to return is the bluebird. Familiar to all must be this cheery bird, one of sprm ’s earliest visitors, and one of the most we come ones wlthal. All of us who have ever been in the country can recall ï¬nding the bluebird’s nest, usually in some hollow stump or other artiï¬cial retreat. A dainty nest it is, too, lined with horsehair andthe depositor, perhaps, halfa dozen pale blue eggs. Then comes back a in, next in order, the meadow lark. This ird is clumsy in form, though of rich yet subdued plumage. Its genei'alaspect is brown, with streaks of ash over its crown. The meadow lark flies low over the ï¬clds,its wings rustling muchof the startled fashion of the quail started from cover. Its nest is a rude affair. loosely con- structed of small twigs, dead wood, etc. The song sparrow follows the meadow lark. This cheery songster iswith us the year around. It comes ï¬rst in the early springtime. W'ho does not know the song sparrow? A modest bird, of sim le, una~ darned plumage, this bird is the l‘ e of our hedges and groves, whistling a soft, sub- due note, sweet and tender in its melody. The blackbirds next return to their old haunts. There are many species of this family of birds, such as the crow black bird, the red-winged blackbird, etc. The black- bird is much in demand at the hands of the amateur hunter or sportsman, who ï¬nds this bird easy game. Then back a sin, whistling plaintively and shrilly in its aunts in some thick bramble or co se, is the catbird. This son ster is indeer a familiar one of our bird 1' e. The catbird is of a somber, slate gray in color, clean-limbed, spry, graceful, and of aris- tocratic bearing. There is much dignity in the carriage of this bird, althou h it must he confessed that its walk is not t e poetry of motion. But for this shortcoming its song more than counterbalances. Ringin forth sharp and clear, a peculiarquality of deï¬ance is heard in its quivering note. The catbird remains with us nearly the entire year. The tohee hunting is one of spring’s ear lieat visitors. This bird is glossy black in color, with a dash of rich chestnut at its sides. One day the swallows return again, and soon after the warblers. The ï¬rst of 'the wood warblers is the San Domingo yellow- throat, of which there are no less than twenty varieties. The Maryland yellow-throat is next in line. This bird takes its name from the color of its breast and from the fact that over its head it wears a black hood or mask. These birds are among our most sprightly singers. By the middle of May the woods are alive with returned wanderers in bird land. The Baltimore oriole returns to nip the opening cherries. This bird is the prince of mi - tory songsters. In plumage it is of dazz in beauty, its breast glowing likea flame, wit back ' and wings of glossy black or olive color. , City people can know nothing of the de~ light of watching the birds come back in the springtime. That pleasure is reserved for those who, simple in heart like nature, are content to pass their days near her doe green woods and her wild haunts, beyon the habitations of men. ____.____._.â€"â€"â€"â€" Points for Girls. Your mother is your best friend, Have nothing to do with girls who snub their parents. Tell the leasantest things you know when at mea s. - Do not expect your brother to be as dainty as a girl. Exercise, and never try to look as if you were in delicate health. Introduce every new acquaintance to your mother as soon as possible. Don’t think it necessary to or married. There is plenty of room for 01 maids, and they are often happier than wives. Enjoy the pleasures provided for you by your parents to the fullest extent. They will like that as a reward better than any other. Take care of your teeth at any cost of time or trouble, and do without new dresses rather than neglect a needed visit to the dentists. Most fathers are inclined to over-indul e their daughters. Make it impossiable ’ or your father to spoil you, by fairly return- ing his devotion and aï¬'ection. Never think you can afford to be dowdy at home. Cleanliness, hair well-dressed and a smile will make a calico look like silks and satins to a father or brother. "‘ Do not quarrel with 'our brother : do not reach at him, and 0 not coddle him. Blake him your friend, and do not expect himto be our servant, nor let him expect you lobe '. At a meeting of the Aberdeen Steam Navi- tion Com :3, an application for inter- ict was 10 e at the instance of several of the shareho ders against the directors of the Company, to ï¬nd and declare that the balance-sheet and roï¬t and loss accounts were incorrect, an to interdjct the c _, f man of the meeting attesting it m 00 t balance-sheet. The interdict has arisenï¬in connection with a pleasure trip which tin directors and, their friends took to Hor- wayin one of the Company’s summer and the expense of which ï¬le shareholders protest against being' a: of the company's funds. The moo ' wi- adjourned for a few hours, and on assembl- ing, the objectors consented to withdm the interdict on the understanding‘that any money expended in connection wit the trip was made good by the directors. am fl- 5-,“; V H. . _. l“w’~w~o a... W‘Mr-â€".~O-- 7...-.-- a.-.‘ ._. .. “knows vnw . m»-.. -u........-~, . .s. .. .. ~â€" .. --r-‘.»» u. :4 . My...“ “us-..†....;, 4V .. «weâ€"m..â€" .a,... on...