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“swans, : A i a i i E f ‘. . “ JACK;" ...y A clear, bright moruin , a calm blue sea gently rippling up the h at Algiers, which is at this hour desolate, save for one solitary form pacing wearily toand fro. The owners face is not at first sight a sympa- thetic one. It is too stern, too hard and bitter. Yet, looking at the deep-set gray eyes, now that they are turned to the smil~ ing blue sea Francewards, one sees a world of tenderness and faithful afl'ection in their sad gaze. 0f whom is be thinking? His wife? No â€"-for her who should now be his wife is that repellent mask worn which hides from all the aching heart. Throu h her, whose un- stable nature could not or the proof of absence, does he live alone in the crowd, pitilessly stern, if 'ust, feared and unloved save by the dear old mother whose faithful affection is the only oasis in the desert of his dead hopes. Of her is be thinking now with that tender, subdued light in his grey eyes. His thoughts are, however abruptly brought back from their travels by the shrieks and laughter of some half a dozen street gamins who rush down pell-mell on to the beach, dragging a poor little mongrel pup by a string. The up is brutally flung into the sea, then pu led back. This operation is repeated many times to the infinite amuse- ment of the lockers-on, though each time the pup is pulled back it is feebler and liiu- l per. It is, in fact, half drowned, when the tables are turned, and four of its tormentors measure their length on the ground. The rescuing hand seizes the string and lifts the poor, little dripping beast u to the shelter of a air of strong arms, w ere it cuddles itse with all its remaining strength, feeling instinctively that there was safety. “ Poor little beast l” says Noel, the chas- seur, compassionately, and his eyes soften and grow pitiful as he looks down on the help one, dumb creature he has rescued ; then he carries it home and washes and dries it, and feeds it, then lays it in a nice nest of sweet. clean hay. “ Now, you rum little beast, what shall I call you ‘3” says Noel, regarding his protege with satisfaction as it gambols gaily round his men re room the day after the rescue. With al the insoucfamre of youth the pup has already almost forgotten the sufferings of yesterday, and is rejoicing in the delight of the present. “ Jack,” says Noel reflectivcly. “ Yes, Jack, man chien,” pulling the dog to him and looking into its wistful, almost human, brown eyes, “ your name is Jack, and with this name is a rent responsibility, forI give it in memory ofan English youth I knew and loved, who died like a hero to save his re intent’scolours. Seeyou bearitworthily!” . ack licks his master’s hands, wags his tail, and returns eagerly to an old top boot with which he has been tussling va iantly since early morn. Judge him not severely, fair reader. He is young yet, and reeks little of the glorious future in store for him. Our greatest heroes have played contentedly with a rattle, and found their chief joy in a stick of chocolate. For some weeks Jack lives a happy, idle life,‘~'whieh agrees with him so well thatheis hardly recognisable. His memories of the past have become so hazy, he is not at all sure they are not nightmares. It seems absolutely absurd to think there ever was: a time when blows were as thick asâ€"black- berries he would say were be English, but, beiu Algerian, he substitutes “ dates ”; and how‘lie could ever have lived without old top boots and tunics to play with seems much too impossible to be true. One day, however, J ack's idle happiness is rudely disturbed. His master seizes him by the scruff of his neck, and, placing the astonished pup before him, commences his training seriously. Life from this moment is no longer a time of thoughtless, happy boot gnawing, but of hard work and earnest study. Jack is learnin to become asoldier; and really, after the rst month or so, he takes to it wonderfully, and shows quite a remarkable aptitude. He soon learns the drill, and also to distinguish the officers, non-commissioned officers, and privates, one from the other; and amongst the two former can pick out anyone named to him without the slightest hesitation. The regi- ment is very (proud of Jack-proud of his cleverness an intelligence, as it is proud of his master’s known and tried courage. Some months pass uneventfully enough. Then news comes that the Arabs further in- land are becoming troublesome, and two or three companies, of which Noel’s is one, are told off to teach these unruly sons of the desert to keep quiet, The thou ht of a change of many days' march and a s irinish, though it be but with Arabs, sends the blood coursing warmly through Noel’s veins ; and he looks every inch a soldier as he marches along in the early morning at the head of his company, whilst Jack shows his joy by wild bounds and barks as he tears hither and thither amongst the small wood growth that borders the track. For some days nothing occurs. The disturbing element seems to have disappeared from off the face of the earth. The soldiers are beginning to grum- ble at having nothing to do but sit on their heels, smoking, relating and listening to stories each man knows as well as his own name. Jack diverts them a little; but the dog is an indefatigable sportsman, and on the hunt from earliest moniin until latest evening: and woe be to the bird or beast who sleeps toosonndly orthinks too deeply ! He is speedily aroused to a disagreeable sense of the present by our friend’s sharp teeth. One ni ht, however, instead of staying out late, - ack comes in at nightfall, finds his master, lays his muzzle, dogdike, on Noel’s knee, and looking up in his face, gives vent to a prolonged howl, then, raising his nose, sniff: uneasil ‘ around. Persuaded by the dog's unusua behaviour that something is wrong, Noel places his sentinels with extra care and in rcater numbers round the camp, follow in all his movements by Jack, who seems thoroughly uneasy. The li hts are out, the camp is in dar ness, and seeming sleep, yet every soldier is nipped, his weapons ready to hand. Noe sits alone in his tent, Jack at his feet, his ears full-cock- ed. his intelli t e es wide open. Noel is thinking of c at or two com ies eu~ camped smile and a half away. “ my God, he says to himself, that if attack there be, it may not be on my unprepared comrades, but on the little band now waiting in breath- less eagerness.” Suddsnl Jack sits up, and a low, half- wfgmwl breaks fro: him. Nolel a ' finger,“ ate quiet y to thcngpcnimz ol the tent. He ' tens in~ lastly. but no sound backs the stillness of nightmve a faint rustling that may be the wind in the leaves, or perchauoe the dee drawn breath of 160 men waiting silentl:v for victoryâ€"or death. The mean shines brightly igbting up wholly one-half of the camp. Noel can almost see every blade of grass quivering ' The other half lies in total darkness, wrapped in the black shadow of a thick wood beyond. Towards this wood man and dog turn with instinctive suspicion. Jack trembles violently, his attention riveted on a. large clump of trees, apparently lying within a dozen yards. Then with one fierce bark that breaks out harshly on the night air, in concert with Noel’s cry of “ Aux armes! Aux armes ! ” he springs forward upon the creeping snake-like body of a wily Arab, who has contrived to glide unper- ceived through the grasses into the camp. How welcome does that cry of “ Aux armes ! Aux armes ! ” burst upon the waiting soldiers' ears. How readily they spring to 5 their armsâ€"how quickly each man is in his I place, and the little band, in compact order, j drawn up in the moonlight against a seemâ€" ineg countless swarm of dusty Arabs, who advance from the wood and its shadow. The fight begins in earnest. It is of no light skirmish, as Noel realizes in the first jfcw moments, but a very serious hand-to- * hand fight against an infuriated horde~the lmore infuriated that where they expected to find the enemy in unsuspicious sleepâ€"an ’ easy preyâ€"they find them ready, waiting l eagerly to receivo them at the oiut of the sword. Half an hour passes, oel is slight- I 1y wounded, Jack also by the knives of those he has strangled. Half the little band are dead or dying, and still the Arabs crowd upon them, thoughthey can couuttheir dead by fifties. Hastily tearing a leaf out of his pocketbook, Noel scribbles rapidly : “ Surprised by Arabs ! send help at once !” IAs he writes, a. shadow passes between him and the moon ; he looks up, it is’the body of his faithful Jack, who, ever watchful, has sprung across his shoulder at the throat of one whose knife in another second would have dealt him his death-blow. A film passes across N oel’s stern eyes. He thinks of the old mother at home who owes the life of her “ boy” to the devotion of a mongrel picked up in the streets. First despatcliing his enemy, Noel then puts the paper in Jack’s mouth, and says, peiiiting in the direction of the other camp :, ” La has ;au regiment ;au Ca itaine Danicr.” One quick look in Noel’s ace and the dog is gone, swift as the wind, through the Arab horde. Some few knives are thrown after him carelessly. Little reck they that that flying form will bring up twice one hundred and sixty men against themâ€"rather do they take it for some stray jackul surprised out of his lair. Another half-hour passes, Noel grows more and more anxious, Jack has not returned. Has he been killedâ€"his faithful dog? A curiousfeeling contracts his heart at the thought. The littlebandis very small now ; yet still it holds compactly together. There is a terrible look on the men’s faces. The look of those who have nothing to hope for further but death, yet are proud to die as brave men, sword in hand, back to back comrades and brothers to the end. II , _ . Again that dark, flyin - form passes through the Arab crowd, an arrives pant- ing at Noel’s feet. A paper is in its mouth with these words: “ Hold fast ; will attack Tenderly caressing Jack, Noel cries to his men: “Courage! help is coming! Forward 1” :_ Even as he speaks, the sound of approach- ing bugles breaks forth, and the tramp" of many feel; tells of the help at hand. \Vith a loud cry of “ En avant len event 1” Toel and his little band dash forward. Thus attacked, front and rear, the Arabs lose heart, and flee precipitately in great disorder. In another half-hour notliin remains of them but their dead and wounded. Noel’s first thought is for his wounded men, his second for his brave dog. Now that the excitement is over, Jack presents a very limpand feeble appearance ; he has had more than his share of knife slashes, courage ! though fortunately all are fleshwounds. Noel finds him busily cleaning himself with his little remaining strength, giving vent now and again to the most piteous cries, as his-rough tongue passes over the wounds. At sight of his master he tries to rise and wag his tail, but his strength fails him, and, wit 1 a little plaintive moan, he sinks down. With an expression of tenderness rare to his rugged face, Noel stoops and gathers up his wounded comrade in his arms, and staggers to his tent, for he, too is wounded. With gentle hands he staunehes Jack’s wounds, washing them free of all foreign matter with fresh clear water : then lays him on his own camp bed, bidding him to lie quiet ; then stretching himself on the round alongside, he closes his eyes. ‘radually consciousness leaves him, and when the doctor and Captain Danier enter his tent they find him senseless, and on the road to high fever. “ Must et him back to Algiers as soon as possible, anier,” says the old doctor, shakiu his head; “Don’t like his looks ! don’t 1i e his looks! ” “ Don’t croak, doctor," says Denier, “ but come and attend to Jack ; if ever a soldier deserved attention this four-legged one does. Besides bringing us to the rescue I myself saw him drag down no less than three of the enemy." The next day master and dog are put in an ambulance cart, and commence a slow and tedious journey back to Algiers. For many weary weeks Noel is in danger, though Jack soon recovers ; then one lovely morn- : ing sees our friend and his dog embarked for ! Franceâ€"two gaunt looking objects, one i waving his hat and the other his tail at the ' fast fading forms of comrades on shore. What a joyful meeting it is betwixt the old mother and her " boy l" How lovingly she folds him in her arms, whilst he lays his weather-beaten, stern face like a little child on her breast, as though, at last, he had found rest and co ! Is there an love more beautiful. more rfect, than the love between mother and c ild 3 Does man ever find anyone to loveso completh ', so dis- tinetl as his mother! Rarely, I t ink. Jae , of course, ets very much s ilt by the old lady. Not ing is too good or him. until, at last, Noel begins to fear his soldier- ly ualities ruined, and the dog, good for no ing in camp. Such is not, however, the case, as Jack proves later on. Themonths roll by peacefully. Noel is himself again, and returns to Algiers. The rumours of war between France and Germany grow louder and louder, and Noel has not been two months back in his regi- ment before war is declared. Soon after, thev-â€"-Chaaseurs are ordered home on active service. > in the faint night breeze. from the rear.-â€"Danier. ” During the first partof the war Noel and Jack seem to bars. charmed life. The latter, indeed, has half of his brush shot 05 ; but that he regards as nothiu 'â€"â€"s. mere matter of de-tail. The regiment been all the time tothe front, and many well. known faces are seen no more ; many a proud youn head lies low in the dust. The good old actor is wing quite white with the work, and t e fretting after the “boys,” who are gone ; the “ boys” he called “ mes enfants” and loved so well. III The two armies face each otherâ€"the Germans very much inferior in numbers to the French. The fight begins in hot earnest, and almost from the first Victory inclines her head to the Germans; why and where- fore no one can explain, except that she is a woman; and like her sister, Fortune, caprici- ' 0118. l l The French fight like very devils, yet steadily, though unwillingly, they retreatâ€" their ranks diminishing like cars of corn be- fore the rea er’s scythe. Noel finds himself at last on a ittle knoll with only a third of the regiment, their colours still waving triumphantly, but on their faces the look of men who know there is no chance. Suddenly the colours waver and fall from the hand of the lieutentant, who holds them as he drops woundedto the death ; another seizes them and another, each in turn as his comrade falls. At last Danier holds them, and with them in the midst the re- maining fragment commence a slow retreat towards the main body, which is also retir- ing. Swiftly, with a sharp cry, Danier' falls. “ A vous l” cries Noel to a. young corporal who holds them but a few minutes ere he too Joins the great majority. Desperately Noel seizes them, the poor, torn colours, this morning waving so proudly over so many proud heads! How can he save them from passing into the enemy’s hand? He grinds his teeth savagely at the thought. How can he save them? How? A bright flash before his e esâ€"a thousand stars, and he falls !â€"â€"the sul en roar of battle sounding faint and far away in his ears. His enemy seizes the coloursâ€"the coveted coloursâ€"but Noel with the strength of des- peration, desperate for the honour of his regiment, draws his revolver, and with a last great effort, fires it. The German falls without a. group. The din of battle sounds fainter and fainter. SWeet thoughts of farewell to the dear mother stir him for a moment. Then the sense of feeling op- presses him. “ Is this death ?” he asks him~ self...“A'pitiful whine breaks on his deafen-~ ed ears ; a. warm tongue licks his blood- stained face. He forces his eyes open. Over him stands Jack, the agoniscd look of a human being in his pitiful, brown eyes. “ Good dog ! brave dog I” he says, feebly, and smiles. Then a thought comes to him. He collects his remaining strength, rolls the colours tight round their broken staff, and places them in the dog’s mouth. . “ Allez,” he says, faintly: “ Allez an ’ regiment. ” Jack, loth to leave his master thus, yet stays, his eyes pleading not to be sent ' away. " Allezâ€"allez,” repeats Noel, almost .sternly, “chezâ€" chez â€"- Colo -- nel â€" au regiâ€"â€"” ' His voice dies away ; his head falls back ; it is the end ! IV. 'At sundown the colonel of Noel’s regiment stands with a little band within the Frianch camp. There is a look of infinite pain and sadness on his bronzed face. The French have been heavily defeated, and the sorrow of it has struck home deeply to the French commander’s heart. “ They fought wellâ€"they fought well, lee enfants,” he says, re eatedly. ‘_‘ They fought wel ,” echo the others, ad- ding heavily, “ but we have lost 2” Suddenly, while their eyes are d rectcd sadly towards the battlefield, where so many comrades lie bathed in blood and the ruddy sunset light, their gaze falls on an extraord- inary, shapeless mass speeding towards them, Nearer and nearer it comes, its pace grow- ing more and more laboured. It reaches ghem, and falls with a. mean, inert at their set. “It is a dog l” cries the colonel, stooping over the crimson mass. “ C’est Jack l” he adds, startled ; and then he recognises in the tattered rags. clenched fast in the dog’s teeth, his own colours. He turns away in silence, choking with emotion. A few spas- modic gaspsâ€"a struggleâ€"an upward look, and J aek closes his faithful brown eyes for ever. They buried him late that evening, firing a volley azross the mound as a last tribute to one who had saved his captain’s and com- pany's life in the first place; and, in the second, had given his life in blind obedience to orders, to save his regiment/s “ colours !’ w Transplanting Rare Shrubs- l'icl"s Magmbm tells how to transplant choice shrubs and trees safely as follows: Many complain of losing shrubs and large plants received by express, as all the soil is taken from the roots before they are sent. Don’t wait until the shrubs are received be- fore you prepare the bed for them, but as soon as the order is sent make preparations for them. Do not only remove the top soil where the shrubs are to stand, but spade the whole bed deep and add a liberal i uantity of well-rotted manure and leaf mold (if it can beobtained) and mix thoroughly : and when the shrubs arrive plant the same as you would young fruit trees. Notice the mark showinghow deep they were planted before, and pre re to set them a. little deeper this time. Yet the roots in a bucket of water. Dig the holes deeper than the roots require, and our in water so that the ground below will moist many inches. After the water settles place some manure in the hole and over this an inch or two of soil; lift the shrub from the bucket of water and gently lay the wet roots in position, being careful not to break the fine, tender roots, as they are just as important as the large ones. After they are all arranged as nearly as 'ble in the same position as they were fore sprinkle fine soil over them, and then fill up the hole with the soil, pressing it down very firmly about the roots. Now, cut back the tops in the same roportiou as the roots have been disturbs or broken, and water freely. I have found this method rfectly satisfactory, and out of 42 hardy fizwerin shrubs, planted in one year, only two di , and they were ve frail, sickly. lookin little affairs when t ey were re- csivedfiiy express with several large ones. HOUSEHOLD. My Sweetheart. Whenever I lay on the old guitar The son at my sweetheart taught me. ’ Mv thong is go back to the summer time When first it her toils she caught me ; Andonco again I can hear the sound Of her leefnl voice blown over The m _ ow, sweet with the scent of thyme. And pink with the bloom of clover. The faded ribbon is hanging still Vt here her dimplcd fingers tied itâ€" I used to envy it stealing round _ Her neck. for she did not chide it; And the inlaid rl that herringlets touched As she lean above it lightly, Glows even now with a. hint 0 gold That it once reflected brightly. Whether her eyes werehlue as the skies On a noonday in Se tember 0r brown like those 0 a starslcd fawn I can't for the world remember ; But when she lifted them up to mine I know that my heart tingled In time to the tender tune she sang. And the airy chords she jingled. Yet now, though I sweep the dusty Strings _By her rhsh spirit haunted, Till out o the old guitar there trips A melody. blithe. enchanted. My pulses keep on their even way _ And my heart has ceased its daneing. For somebody else sits under the spell or the songs and sidelong glancing. The Trials of Cooking. Sitting in her easy arm chair the other evening after the work was done, Aunt Lizzie ell to talking of her first experiences ' at housekeeping. ‘ N ow a days she is the best housekeeper in her neighborhood. Her bread is always the lightest and the whitest, her preserves invariably retain most of the fliivor and substance of the original fruit, her kitchen is cleanest, herv washing is always out first, and notwithstanding all these sucesses she has more time for fancy work and reading and entertaining younger folks than any housekeeper in a radius of no one knows how many miles. But twenty years ago Aunt Lizzie began housekeepin “ greener than grass,” as she says herse . “I didn’t have any mother,” she said the other night, “and when I started to be a wife to Hiram, armed with nothing but love and a cook book, he had every reason to trembleat the thought of his daily bread. But, mercy, how patient he was ! My biscuits used to sink down on the pan as flat as pancakes, and when you broke one of them in two it looked like glueâ€"and tasted like it, tooâ€"but Hiram used to eat them down and ask for more. One day my brother Jacob came to eat with us. He had been in the war and spent four months a prisoner at Libby, which nearly killed him. After he had eaten a little this day he turn- ed to me and said: “ Lizzie, you must excuse me if I leave the table. There is somethin about your cooking which calls up 01 times and takes away my appetite. I never like to remember those terrible days in prison if I can help it. I am sure you didn’t ‘ mean anything by these biscuits and that the resemblance is purely accidental, but it is there v'ustvthesamei’ I tried to laugh, but coul n’t’ very well, and'Hiram wouldn’t see the joke at all. He jumped up from his chair, and I guess there would have been trouble if I hadn’t knocked over the coffee pot and scalded my hand and so changed ' the subject. ButI could never douthiram’s love after that, no matter what he did. “ I found out afterward that the most of the trouble came from my trying to follow my recipes too closely. I tried to remem- ber so many details that I was sure to for- get some of them or to slight some im- portant ingredient. Recipes are bad enou h now, containing a half-dozen things you on’t want to one that you do, but in those days they were a. rest deal worse. To make breadâ€"ta e a pan of flour from a' barrel which has been carefully covered to prevent destruction by rats or mice, after having prepared your yeast the night before by soaking a half-cake thereof in a. quart of water of a lukewarm temperature and adding thereto a pinch of coarse salt or table salt if pre- ferred ; stir in the flour, which may have been sifted through a colander, if a sieve is not at han , until the whole has reached the consistency of paste, then leave near a warm fire all night if in win- ter or in a safe place if in summer ; in the morning stir in more flour, set in a warm place again and wait for it to raise ; when it has raised sufficiently, after havin heated the oven to a steady heat, neither too warm nor too cool, carefully insert in the oven, shutting the door upon it, and re- treating cautiously to the northeast corner of the room, where you stand watch- prevent the bread from being jarred, stead- ily fixing your eyes upon the poker, which no good housekeeper should for one moment think of leaving on the stove lid, removing your eyes after the lapse of forty-three min- utes and observing the broom Extending neatly in one corner of the kitchen, where- upon you advance carefully, and, selecting a long straw, as clean as possible, there- from, you softly approach the oven, opening the door of which, you firmly insert the straw in the well-heated pan of bread, upon which if you observe traces of unhaked dough the bread is not done, but if other- wise may be taken out, removed diagonally across the room in the right hand, holding for convenience a towel or flannel holder, to avoid burning if possible. and may be sliced with asharp knife and served with butter on a large plate deposited in the cen- ter of the table for convenience." Aunt Lizzie leaned back in her chair and laughed at herself until she had guite ex- hausted the remnant of breath which she had leftafter rehearsin rher recipe. “Well,” she said when she con (1 speak again, “ it may not have been quite so bad as that, but the sooner any woman who wants to learn to cook makes up her mind to take publish- ed reeipes at no more than their true value â€"â€"to depend upon them for a general idea and not for detail, which can be secured only through experiment and experience-â€" the better she will succeed.” Good Advice to Girls. Searcely a day passes without its news- paper stcry of some young woman who met- man so interesting that she thought she ouldn’t live without him, so she married him in haste and afterward learned that he was an ex-convict or a brute or already had a wife or two from whom he had separated without the formality of a legal divorce. In such cases the blame is laid u who generally deserves more abuse than he gets. But, girls, look at the matter seriously a few minutes and are if the trouble might not have been avoided if you had not been in too much of a hurry. l ,fully on one foot, holding out the other to l l pen the man,‘ .m. Mari-i e means partnership for life; decrees mcsif divorce are merely that prove the rule. Would any man on into a business partnership with as little knowledge of the other party as you seem satisfied with? Well, noâ€"not unless he were a sweet sealed lunatic. Talk is cheap, girls; it csnbe made to order asfast as the tonguecan run, as ' y when there is a pretty face to inspire it and twoears willing to receive it. Don’t fear that some other girl will get the fellow unless y2~u secure himat once. ‘A fish that any one can catch isn't worth throwing a line for. Play him to find out whether he amounts to anything. If he becomes im tient and dashes away, wh , follow Dog tryâ€"thank God that yours rid of a knave. How to Manage a llushand. The amount of advice given to women as to the better methods of retaining their hus- band’s love is wesrisome in the extreme. The fact that mueh,of this is written by ' those spinsters who have lovely theories rather than ex erience as a guide may have made much of t is quite impractical. How- ever, I heard a chat between two clever little women the other day upon which I have been pondering ever since. “ Yes," said Mrs. A), “I am awfully fond of my husband, and he is a splendid fellow, but do you know he has somehow acquired the habit of embelishing his little stories which he tells me in the most elaborate fashion? Why, at first I felt dreadftu over it and wept, not oceans but little lakes of tears and fancied myself one of the most deeply injif- ed of women. Did I chide him. or reproach him, or did I tell him that I should never more have faith in him ? Not I. I just sat down and gave my best thou ht to the matter and decided thatif I 'd that it would be simply ruinous to all our happi- ness ; that his pride would be gone and he so deeply humiliated as to no longer strive for my love or admiration. Of course I am not quite an idiot, and aman l' woman must need have a phenomenal m - ory to be an artistic liar. Now this, fortu- nately for me, perhaps, my husband does not possess, so when he comes home late with a most interesting account of the supâ€" per which he gave to one of the boys who sails for Europe next week I take it that he didn't want to come home, and spared my feelings by this excuse. When he has for otten this and the supper is really given out? he again sta s away, I have so far gained control 0 myself that I fail to re- mind him that it is the second compliment paid to the departing friend, and though it isn t a little bit easy, you may be sure that 1 find it a most satisfactory condition of things. So I have laid it down asoneof the cardinal rules of domestic bliss, first, that a women must always believe implicitly in what her husband tells her ; second, that if she cannot believe it she must to school her- self as to assume that faith, and thus shall she secure her own comfort and that of her husband by the subtle flattery thus im- plied.” Deborah’s Brown Hair. ,«Thirty-seven‘ years egg a Yankee fishing skipperof Vinal Haven, 8. , named Solomon "Marshall was courtin Deborah Sholes of Upper Port La Tour, . S. While at her home he had begged a lock of her beautiful golden-brown hair. During the succeeding winter, which he spent at his home, he r6. ceived the news that the young lad of his heart had turned fickle and was lowing another the honor of her company to village merry makings. In his despair he and a friend named Colby, who was afterwards killed in the «var of the rebellion, bored a three-quarter- ’ inch hole into a white birch tree then about five inches throuuh, put the hair in and drove home after it a ine lug. The next sum- mer he wenthac to ova Seotis. and mar- ried the fair Deborah, in triumph over his rival, and brought her to the states, where he afterward died. He never thought it necessary to reclaim the hair, and there it remained for year after car, the tree wax- ing large and strong, an covering over with .its white wood and paper bark the precious token hid in its bosom. This last winter Mr. Edwin Smith, who now owns the old Marshall farm, cut the tree for fire wood. In 8 litting the wood the ax happened to lay t is tree 0 on exactly on a pine plug, with a lock of eautiful hair behind it. The ' I outside end of the plu was covered by three ' inches of solid woo , which consisted of thirty-seven annual rings, The hair and plug are now in possession of Mrs. Margaret Turner of Isle au Haut, Me., the sister of the heroine of this little romance, who is now Mrs. Saunders of Lockport, N. S. A RoyalEsiT-Outting. In some Eastern countries children’s hair is not out until they are 10 or I2 years of age, the girls then being considered uiar- riageable. Up to that time it is coiled on the top of the head and adorned with fresh flowers. then the (great day for cutting comes there is a gran ceremony and much feasting. One who was present at a royal hair-cut- ting tells us that the darling of the harem was robed in long, flowing garments of silk and lace, confined at the waist by a olden girdle. Her long hair, coiled for t 0 last time, was fastened with diamond pins which leamed and glittercd among fresh white flowers and reen leaves like pearly drops of morning ew. There in the presence of the ladies, her father and an officiating priest, surrounded by her maidens, some 200 in number, she- knelt under a canopy of flowars and leaves while prayers were chanted. Then, the beautiful tresaes being un- bound, her royal father, dipping his fingers in rose water and drawing them carelessly over her head, clip d off about an eighth of an inch of hair an threw it into a golden basin, depositing at the same time, on a great salver placed read to receive them, presents of jewels and go d. The priest cut the next piece, her mother the next, and so on, each guest serving in turn until the little lady was shorn. All gave costly gifts intended for her marriage (lower, Princes, Ministers of state and dignitaries of all sorts, who waited in the outer courts, sending in theirs by the at- tendants. The ds ended in feasting and a. display of firewor s. ' .._....__..__.,.._.. W bites of eggs may be beaten to a stiff froth by an open window when it would be impossible in a steamy kitchen. Powdered flint glass ground in «u imp nip- able powder and mixed with line a 2.:ic ui' an egg makes one of the strongest 4.4.;u'uu known. ._'J V. A . as A... an.