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f. ‘n....,-.. ROET. BARR, IN “LIPPINCOTT’S MAGAZINE.” .__.-. CHAPTER VI. The blessed privilege of skipping is, to the reader of a story, one of those liberties worth fighting for. \Vithout it,who would be brave enough to begin a book? \Vith l it, even the dullest volume may be made passably interesting. It must have oc- curred to the observant reader that this world might be made brighter and better if authors would only leave out what must be skipped. This the successful author will not do, for he thinks highly of himself, and if the unsuccessful author did it it would not matter, for he is not read. Thereadcr of this story has, of course- come to no portion that invites skipping, Sheâ€"or heâ€"has read faithfully up to these very words. This most happy state of things has been brought about first by the intelligence of'the reader and secondly by the conscientiousncss of the writer. The mutual co-operation so charmingly con. tinued thus far encourages the writer to ask a favor of the reader. The story now enters a period that Mr. Yates would de- i l scribe as stirring. To compare small things with great, its course might be likened’ to that of the noble river near which its scene is situated. The Niagara flows placidly along for miles and then suddenly plunges down a succession of turbulent rapids to the final catastrophe. If the writer were a novelist, instead of a simple reporter of cer- tain events, there would be no need of ask- ing the indulgence of the reader. If the writer were dealing with creatures of his own imagination,instearl of with fixed facts, these creatures could be made to do this or that as best suited his purposes. Such, however, is not the case; and the exciting events that must be narrated claim prece- dence over the placid happenings which, with a little help from the reader’s imagina- tion, may be taken as read. The‘reader is therefore to know that four written chap- ters which should have intervened between this and the one preceding have been sacri- | ficed. But a few lines are necessary to I show the state of things at the end of the fourth vanished chapter. thrown together,especially when people are young, the mutual relationship existing be- tween them rarely remains stationary. It drifts towards like or dislike,and cases have been known where it progressed into love or hatred. ‘ Stillson Renmark and Margaret Howard became, at least, very firm friends. Each of them would have been ready to admit this much. In the chapters which, by an un- fortunate combination of circumstances,arc lost to the world, it would have been seen how these two had at least a good foun- dation on which to build up an acquaint- ance in the fact that Margaret’s brother was a student in the university of which the professor was a worthy member. They had also a subject of difference which, if it leads not to heated argument but is sober- ly discussed, lends itself even more to the building of friendship than subjects of agreement. Margaret held that it was wrong in the university to close its doors to wom- en. Renmark had hitherto given the sub- ’ject but little thought, yet he developed an opinion contrary to that of Margaret and was too honest a man or too little of a diplomatist to conceal it. ,On one occasion Yates had been present, and he threw him- self with the euergy that distinguished him, into the woman side of the question, cordially agreeing with ’Margaret, citing instances and holding those who were against the admission of women up to ridi- cule, taunting them with fear of feminine competition. Margaret became silent as the champion of her cause waxed the more eloquent; but whether she liked Richard Y ates the better for his cliainpionship,\vlio that is not versed in the ‘way's of women can say? As the hope of winning her re- gard was the sole basis of Yates’s uncom- promising Views on the subject, it is likely I that he was successful,_for his experiences 2 with the sex were large and varied. Mar- g‘areb was certainly attracted towards Ren- mark, whose deep scholarship even his ex- l cessive self-depreciation could not entirely conceal, and he in turn had natural- ly a school-master’s enthusiasm over a pupil who so earnestly desired ad~ vancement in knowledge. Had he de- scribed his feelings to Yates, who was an expert in many matters, he would per- haps have learned that he was in love; but Renmark was a reticent man,not much given either to introspection or to being lavish with his confidences. As to Margaret,who ' can plummet the depth of a young girl’s regard until she herself gives some indica- tion? All that a reporter has to record is that she was kinder to Yates than she had been at the beginning. Miss Kitty Bartlett probably would not have denied that she had a sincere liking for the conceited young man from New York. Renmark fellinto the error of think- ing Miss Kitty a frivolous young person, I whereas she was merely a girl who had an, inexhaustible .fund-of high spirits and one who took a most deplorable pleasure in shocking a serious man. Even Yates made a slight misiakc regarding her 011 one occa- sion, when they were having an evening walk together, with that freedom from chaperonage which is the birthright of every American girl, whether she belongs to a farm~house or to the palace of a million- aire. In describing the incident afterwards to Bonmark (for Yates had nothing of his comradc’s reserve in these matters) he said,â€" “ She left a diagram of her four fingers on my check that felt like one of those raised maps of Switzerland. I have before nowl felt the tap of a lady’s fan in admonition, , but never in my life ha Je I met a gentle l Vthn people are the with both of the girls. Instances of this kind are not so rare as a young man newly engaged to an innocent girl tries to make her believe. Cases have been known where a chance meeting with one girl and not with another has settled who was to bc a young man’s com- panion during a long life. Yates felt that in multitude of counsel there is wisdom, and made no secret of his perplexity to his friend. He complained sometimes that he got little help towards the solution of the problem, but generally be was quite content to sit under the trees with Reninark and weigh the different advantages of each of the girls. He . sometimes. appealed to his friend as a man with a mathematical turn of mind, possessing an education that ex- tended far into conic sections and algebraic formulas, to balance up the lists and give him a candid and statistical Opinion as to which of the two he should favor with serious proposals, When these appeals for help were coldly received, he accused his friend of lack of sympathy with his dilcmna, said that he was a soulless man, and that if he had a heart it had become incrusted with the useless debris of a higher education, and swore to confide in him no more. He would search for a friend, he said, who had something human about him. The search for the sympathetic friend, how- ever, seemed to be unsuccessful, for Yates always returned to Renmark, to have as lie- remarked, ice-water dashed upon his adu- plex-burning passion. It was a lover afternoon in the latter part of 'vlav, 1866, and Yates was swinging idly in the hammock, with his hands clasped under his head, gazing dreamily up at the patches of blue sky seen through the green branches of the trees overhead, while his industrious friend was unromantically peel- ing potatoes near the door of the tent. “ The human heart, Benny,” said the man in the hammock, rcflectively, “is a remarkable organ, when you come to think of it. I presume from your lack of interest that you haven’t given the subject much study, perhaps in aphysiological way. At present moment it is to me the only theme worthy of a man’s entire attention. Perhaps that is the result of spring, as the poet says ; but anyhow it presents new aspects to me each hour. Now, I have made this important discovery, that the girlI am with last seems to me the most desirable. That is contrary to the observ- ation of philosophers of bygone days. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say. I don’t find it so. Presence is what plays the very deuce with me. Now, how do you account for it, Stilly ‘2” _ The professor did not attempt to account for it, but silently attended to the business in hand. Yates withdrew his eyes from the sky and fixed them on the professor, waiting for the answer that did not come. “Mr. Renmark,” he drawled at last, “ I am convinced that your treatment of the potato is a mistake. I think potatoes should not be peeled the day before and left to soak in cold water until next day’s din- ner. Of course I admire the industry that gets work all over before its results are , called for. Nothing is more annoying th. 11 work left untouched until the last momc t and then hurriedly done. Still,virtue may l he carried to excess, and a man may be too previous. “ Well, I am quite willing to relinquish the work into your hands. You may per- haps remember that for two days I have been doing your share as well as my own.” “ Oh, I am not complaining about that at all,” said the hammock, magnanimously “ You are acquiring practical knowledge 'lenny, that will be of more use to you than all the learning taught at the schools. My only desire is that your education should be as complete as possible : and to this end I am willing to subordinate my own yearn- ing desire for scullery-work. I should suggest that instead of going to the trouble of entirely removing the covering of the lpotat-o in that laborious way you should merely peel a belt around the greatest cir- cumference of the potato. than cook them in the slow and soggy manner that seems to delight you, you should boil them quickly, with some salt placed in the water. The remaining coat would then curl outward, and the resulting potato would be white and dry and mealy, instead of being in the condition of a wet sponge.” “ The beauty of a precept, Yates, is the illustrating of it. If you are not satisfied with my way of boiling potatoes, give me a practical object-lesson.” The man in the hammock sighed rc- proachfully. “ Of course an unimaginative person like you, Renmark, cannot realize the cruelty of suggesting that a man as deeply in love as I am should denean himself 'by attend« ing to the prosaic details of househ old affairs. I ain doubly in lov e, and much more, therefore, as that old bore Euclid used to say, is your suggestion unkind and uncalled for.” “ All right : then don’t criticise.” “I do,” said a young fellow on horsebick. He threw himself ofl'a. tired horse, tied the animal to a sapling, -which judging by the horse’s condition, was an entirely unneces- sary operation,â€"-jumped ovur the rail fence, and approached through the trees. The young men saw coming towards them a tall led in the uniform of the telegraph-ser- Vice. “I’m Yates. What is it?” “Well,” said the lad, “I’ve had a hunt and a half for you. Here’s a. telegram.” “How in the world did you find out where I was? Nobody has my address.”- “That’s just the trouble. It would have saved somebody in New York a pile of money if you had left your address. No man ought to go to the woods without leav- ing his address at a telegraph-office, any- 3.»-; . 1,3;3'. V. _- v.'.“‘T.r'.\}$.t:- . .~.g.,.4-..-..-n;. 4,. find you, and let ’em know nobody else cmld ’a’ done it, and I’ll say you’re a pretty sick man. I won’t tell ’em you gave me a dollar.” “ Right you are, sonny; you’ll get along. Here’s five dollars, all in one bill. If you meet any other messengers, take them back with you. There’s no use of their wasting valuable time in this little neck hf the woods." , The boy stuffed the bill into his vest-pom ket as carelessly, as if it represented cents instead of dollars, mounted his tired horse, and waved his hand in farewell to the newspaper-man. Yates turned and walked slowly back to the tent. He threw himself once more info the hammock. As he expect. ed, the professor was more taciturn than i " Oh, 1’11 tell em what a hard job I hadlto how.” The young man looked at the world lever, and although he had been prepared from a. telegraph point of view. People for silence, the silence irritated him. He were good or bad according to the trouble lfelt ill used at having so unsympathetic a they gave a telegraphic messenger. Yates took the yellow envelope addressed in lead- pencil, but, without opening it, repeated his question: “But how on earth did you find me ?” “Well,it wasn’t easy,” said the boy. “My horse is about done out. I’m from Buffalo. They telegraphed from New York that we were to spare no expense; and we haven’t. There are seven other fellows scouring the country on horseback with duplicates of that despatch, and some more have gone along the lake shore on the American side. Say, no other messenger has been here be- fore me, has he?” asked the boy with a touch of anxiety in his voice. “ No; you are the first.” “I’m glad of that. I’ve been ’most all over Canada. I gnt on your trail about two hours ago, and the folks at the farm- house down below said you were up here. Is there any answer?” Yates tore open the envelope. The de-- spatch was long, and he read it with a deep ening frown. It was to this effect : “ Fenians crossing into Canada at Buffalo. You are near the spot ; get there .quick as possible. Five of our men leave for Buffalo to-night. General O’Neill is in command of Fenian army. companion. “ Look here, Remnark, why don’t you say something ?" “ There is nothing to say.” “ Oh, yes, there is. You don’t approve of me, do you ‘2” “ I don’t suppose it makes any difference whether I approve or not,” “ Oh, yes, it does. A man likes to have the approval of even the humblest of his fellow-creatures. Say, what will you take in cash to approve of me ? People talk of the tortures of conscience, but you are more uncomfortable than the most cast-iron con- science any man ever had. One’s own con- science one can deal with, but a conscience in the person of another man is beyond one’s control. Now it is like this. I am here for quiet and rest. I have earned both, and I think I am justified in ” “ Now, Mr. Yates, please spare me any cheap philosophy on the question. I am tired of it." “ And of me too, I suppose ‘2” “ Well, yes, rather,~â€"if you want to know.” Yates sprang out of the hammock. For the first time since the encounter with Bart- lett on the road, chmark saw that he was He will give you every 1 thoroughly angry. The reporter stood with facility when you tell him who you are. ‘clinched fist and flashing cye, hesitating. When five arrive they will report to you. Place one or two with Canadian troops. Get one to hold the telegraph-wire, and send over all the stuff the wire will carry. Draw on us for .cash you need ; and" don’t spare expense. ” When Yates finished the reading of this he broke forth into a line of language that astonished Remark and drew forth the en- vious admiration of the Buffalo telegraph- boy. . “Heavens and earth and the lower reg- ions ! I’m here on my vacation. I’m not going to jump into work for all the papers I in New York. Why couldn’t those fools of ‘ Fcnians stay at home? The idiots don’tl know when they’re well off. The Fenians be hanged l" “ Guess that’s what they will be,” said ' the telegraph-boy. “ Any answer, sir ‘2” “No. Tell ’cm you couldn’t find me.” “ Don’t expect the boy to tell a lie,” said the professor, speaking for the first time. “Oh, Idon’t mind a lie,” exclaimed the boy, “but not that one. No, sir. I’ve had too much trouble finding you. I’m not going to pretend I’m no good. I started out for to find you, and I have. But I’ll tell any other lie you like, Mr. Yates, if it Will oblige you.” Yates recognized in the boy the same em- ulous desire to outstrip his fellows that had influenced himself when he was a young reporter, and he at once admitted the injus- tice of attempting to deprive him of the fruits of his enterprise. “No,” he said, “that won’t do. No; you have found me, and you’re a young fellow who will be president of the Telegraph Company some day, or perhaps hold the less important office of the United States Presidency. Who knows? Have you a telegraph-blank ‘2” “Of course,” said the boy, fishing out a bundle from the leathern wallet by his side. Yates took the paper and flung himself down under the tree. “Hero’s a pencil,” said the messenger. “A newspaper-man is never without a pencil, thank you,” replied Yates taking one out from his inside pocket. “Now, chinark, I’m not going to tell a Then, rather lie on this occasion,” continued Yates. “I think the truth is better on all oc- casinos.” “Right you are. solid truth.” Yates as he lay on the ground wrote rap- idly on the telegraph blank. Suddenly he looked up and said to the professor, “Say, Renmark, are you a doctor?” “ Of laws,” replied his friend. “Oh, that will do just as well.” he finished his writing. “ How is this 2”’ he cried, holding the paper at arm’s length. “J onx A. BELLINGTON, Managing Editor Argus, New York. “I’m flat on my back. Haven’t done a. hand’s turn for a week. Am under the constant care, night and day, of one of the most eminent doctors in Canada, who even prepares my food for me. Since I left New York trouble of the heart has complicated matters, and at present baffles the doctor. Consultations daily. It is impossible for me to move from here until present compli- So here goes for the And “ Yes, there is a certain sweet reasonable- I cations have yielded to treatment. ness in your curt suggestion. A man who is unable or unwilling to work in the. vine- yard should not find fault wi! h the pickers. And now Ronny, for the hundredth time of asking, add to the many obligations already conferred, and tell ms, like the good fellow you are, what you would do if you were in my place. To which of those two charming but totally unlike girls would you give the preference ?” “ Damn 1” said the professor, quietly. “ Hello, Ronny 1” cried Yates raising his head. “ Have you cut your finger? I should have warned you about using too sharp a knife.” Hut the professor had not cut his finger. reproof that felt so much like a censure from His use of the Word given above is not to be the paw of our friend Tom Sayers.” defended ; still. as it Was spoken by him, it Renmark said, with some severity, that seemed to lose all relationship with swear- he hoped Yates would not forget that he ing. He said it quietly, mildly, and in a was, in a measure, a guest of his neighbors. ’ certain sense innocently. He was astonish- “ Oh, that’s all right,” said Yates. “ If you have any spare sympathy to bestow, keep it for me. .ed at himself for using it, but there had been moments during the past few days My neighbors are amply | when the ordinary explctives used in the able and more than willing to take care of learned volumes of higher mathematics did themselves.” . T . And now as to Richard Yates himself. (hm Would imagine that here at least a 00:111-inrflfll18 relatcr of events would have an easy task Alas ! such is far from being the fact. The case of Yates was by all the four. lie. was deeply and truly in love nil-is. he most complex and bewildering oil not fit the~occasion. Before anything more could be said, “ Binmore would be a good man to take charge in my absence.” “ Yarns.” . “ There,” said Yates, with a tone of sat- isfaction, when he had finished the reading. “ What do you think of that.” The professor frowned, hilt did not an- swer. The boy, who partly saw through it, but not quite, grinned, and said, “Is it 4‘)! true 1 “Of course it’s true I” cried Yates, indig- nant at the unjust suspicion. “ It is a great deal more true than you have any idea of. Ask the doctor there if it isn’t true. Now, my boy will you give in this when you get back to the office? Tell ’em to rush it through to New York. I wculd mark it ‘ rush,’ only that never does any good and always makes the operator mad.” The boy took the paper and put it in his wallet. I “It’s to be paid for at the other end,” continued Yates. “ Oh, that’s all right” answered the mes- senger, with a certain condescension, as if he were giving credit on behalf of the com- pany. “Well, so long," he added. “ I there was a shout from the roadway near hope you’ll soon be better Mr. Yates.” them. Yates sprang to his feet with a laugh “ Is Richard Yates there ‘2” hailed the and followed him to the fence. voice. “Yes. Who wants him?” cried Yates, springing out of the hammock. lwhen you get back. What will you say “ Now, youngster. you are up to snuff, I can see that. They’ll perhaps question you I,” . The other, his heavy brows drawn down, while not in an aggressive attitude, was plainly ready for an attack. Yates con- cluded to speak and not strike. This was not because he was afraid, for he was not a coward. The reporter realized that he had forced the conversation, and remember- ed he had invited Renmark to accompany l him. Although this recollection had stayed his hand, it had no effect on his tongue. “ I believe,” he- said, slowly, “that it would do you good for once to hear a straight, square, unbiassed opinion of your- self. You have associated so long with pupils, to whom your word is law, that it may in- terest you to know what aman of the world thinks of you. A few years of schoolmas- tering is enough to spoil a Gladstone. NOW, I think, of all theâ€"â€"-” The sentence was interrupted by a cry from the fence: “ Say, do you gentlemen know where a fellow named Yates lives ‘2” The reporter's hand dropped to his side. A look of dismay came over his face, and his truculent manner changed with a sud- denness that forced a smile even to the stern lips of Renmark. Yates backed toward the hammock like - a man who had received an unexpected blow. “ I say, Renny,” he wailed, “ It’s an- other of those cursed telegraph-messengers. Go, like a good fellow, and sign for the de- spatch. Sign it ‘ Dr. Renmark, for R. Yates.’ That will give it a sort of official medical-bulletin look. I wish I had thought of that when the other boy was here. Tell him I’m lying down.” He flung himself into the hammock, and Renmark, after a mo- ment’s hesitation, walked towards the boy at the fence, who had repeated his question in a louder voice. In a short time he re- turned with thc yellow envelope, which he tossed to the man in the hammock. Yates seized it savagely, tore it into a score of pieces, and scattered the fluttering bits around him on the ground. The professor stood there for a few moments in silence. “ Perhaps,” he said at last. “ you’ll be good enough to go on with your remarks." “ I was merely going to say,” answered Yates, wearily, “ that you are a mighty good fellow, Renuy. People who camp out always have rows. This is our first; suppose we let it be the last. Camping out is some- thing like married life, I guess, and requires some forbearance on all sides. That philos. ophy may be cheap, but I think it is accu- rate. I am really very worried about this newspaper business. I ought, of course, to fling myself into the chasms like that Roman soldier but, hang it, I’ve been fling- ing myself iutx> chasms for fifteen years, and what good has it done ? There’s always a crisis in a daily newspaper office. I want them to understand in the Argus office that I am on my vacation. “ They will be more apt to understand from the telegram that your on your death- bec .” Yates laughed. “ That’s so,” he said ; “ but you see, Ronny, we New-Yorkers live in such an atmosphere of exaggeration, and if I did not put it strongly it wouldn’t have any effect. You’ve got to give a big dose to a man who has been taking poison all his life. They will take off ninety per cent. from any statement I make, anyhow, so you see I have to pile it up pretty high be- fore the remaining ten per cent. amounts to anything. ” The conversation was interupted by the crackling of the dry twigs behind them, and Yates, who had been keeping his eye nerv- ously on the fence, turned around. Young Bartlett pushed his way through the under- brush. fl is face was red; he had evidently been running. “ Two telegrams for you. Mr. Yates,” he panted. “ The follows that brought ’em said they were important : so I ran out with them myself, for fear they wouldn’t find you. One of them‘s from Port Colborne, the other’s from Buffalo. Telegrams were rare on the farm, and young Bartlett looked on the receipt of one as an event in a man’s life. He was astonish- ed to see Yates recech the double event with a listlessness that he could not help thinkingwas merely assumed foreff‘ect. Yates held out his hand, and did not tear them up at once, out of consideration for the feel- ings of the young man who had had a race to deliver them. “Here’s th books they wanted you to sign. They’re tired out, and mother’s giv- ing them something to eat,” “ Professor, you sign for me, won’t you ‘3” said Yates. he would hear something of the {Onoiots of the important messages ; but Yates did not even tear open the envelopes, although he thanked the young man heartily for bring- ing them. , “ Stu :k-up cuss muttered young Bart. lett td‘himself as he shoved the signed books into his pocket and pushed his way through the underbrush again. Yates slowly and methodically tore the envelopes and their con tents into little pieces and scattered them as before. " Begins to look like autumn,” he said, “with the yellow leaves strewing the ground.” ‘31 (To BE CONTINUED.) W SWEDEN ARMIN G. It is Believed She Will Join the Triple Allianceâ€"TucAgltutlon for Separation in Norway. A Christiania special says :â€"The Double.- dedt, of this city,published a letter written to it by Bjernstsjorne Bjoersen, the Norwe- gian novelist and poet, in which he says it is undeniable that Sweden continues arming on a large scale, and that it is therefore useless to deny that that country intendsto side with the triple alliance in the event of war. Therefore, the writer adds, Sweden refuses Norway’s desire for 3. Separate for- eign department. If Sweden was preparing for armed neutrality she would have no need to fear the independence of Norway, because the latter is eminently disposed to be neutral, but Sweden intends to use Nor- way for her own purposes, against which Norway must continuously and loudly pro- test in order to attract Europe’s attention. The Cologne Gazette recently made a rather enigmatic remark to the effect that the anticipated insolence of the Fronclrafter ‘* the forthcoming fetes of fraternization with the Russians will be damped by some dem- onstration on the other side which will Show that the international balance of ppwer has enough additional weight at its disposal to neutralize the effect of the Franco Russian league. The meaning of these words has been the subject of a good deal of conjecture. One report publish- ed in a Vienna newspaper said that the recent visit of Prince Leopold' Fred- erick of Prussia to the Swedish court was really connected with negotiations with a view to Sweden joining the triple alliance. King Oscar, it was asserted, had been really alarmed by the Separatist movement in Norway. for this had been traced more or less to Russian influence. Only lately the Russian press urged that a Norwegian port ought to be “acquired” by the Russians as a coaling station for their Baltic fleet. The Vienna paper added that “The apprehen- sions of King Oscar found a ready ear in Germany, and especially since the Czar’s speech at Libau, and further negotiations are now proceeding in earnest.” Whether the Cologne Gazette meant or not what is here stated, it is a fact that in many usually well-informed political circles the anti-Swed- ish movement in Norway has from the be- ginning been ascribed to indirect Russian influence. Even the money which was os- tensibly sent from America to Norway to keep up the agitation is believed to have really come from Russia. The Norwegian Republicans and Separatists might them- selves know of the connection of the leaders of the agitation with the agents of Russia, but on the principle of Cui Prodest, the idea had forced itself upon observers in Germany and elsewhere that Russia must be behind the dangerous agitation in Nor- way, and subsequent symptoms have strengthened that impression. TAKING PASSENGER? NAMES. The Plan “’onld not V‘l’ork Say the Ball- way Officials. In reply to the suggtion that the conduc~ tors on trains should take the names of their passengers with a view at once of identification in case of accident, and of comfort to . their friends by the prompt publication of names, Mr. McNicoll, Gener- al Passenger Agent of the C. P. R., said to a Montreal reporter that it would be quite impossible to carry out any such idea. ‘ ' Suppose an accident occurred between the city and Cote St. Antoine. It is not like- ly, but it is possible. There might be one hundred and fifty people on the train. How could any conductor attend to the people getting on, collect the tickets and take the names at the same time? If it be said it might probably be done on though trains, the answer is there is always more or less local travel on such trains. People get off and on. How could the conductor keep track of them? Suppose he had all their names, how could he tell who got off? And when an accident does occur, those who escape are only too glad to hurry home, and thus cover up all trace. The thing is quite impossible. It would require an army of officials to work it, and then the result would not be of any value, owing to the impossibility of keeping trace of the people who drop off at every station along the line of route.” A Grand Trunk official expressed himself somewhat similarly. He said that twenty years ago it was the custom in the Old Country to book passengers. That .was, that each person who went to the ticket office was asked his name, which was enter- ed in a book, the object being to keep some such record as was sought in the present instance. 'He did not know Whether that practice was still in vogue, but he knew that the conductor could not do it here, and that even if clerks were placed on the train for the purpose, it would be impossible to keep track of people who got off at the frequent stations along any route. He Needed Rest- “Begobs, auld woman,” said O‘Hchaly, "It’s up to the doctor’s Oi’ve been this mornin’, an’ he says Oi’ll not be able to work fur some toime, that it’s rist Oi’ nade an’ that Oi must take a nap ivory afternoon. Faith, an’ Oi’ll be layin’ down a bit now,an' if I should happen to fall ashlape, be sure to wake me up in toii‘ue fur me afternoon’s nap, d’ye moind ‘2” The Longest Way Round. is the Best- Strangei‘â€".“ You tell me that to follow the road is the longer way to town, and to cut across that field and through that orchard is thc'shorter, and the next minute you say if I take the road I’ll get to town sooner. How’s that?" Countrymanâ€"“Well, if you attempt to go through that orchard the Coroner will have to be sent for before you can go on to Bartlett lingered a moment hoping that town.” -..~...n.--».+.. . --â€"«m:. I : ' . .. u u;".'«‘>qÂ¥v‘;' "ofâ€"S.- . ---A-A