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{ I A. v++++++++++++++++++++f HI [.I N + + ¢+++++++++++++++++++++ ~Chief-Warder Halliday returned to «i ++++++ ++++++ .his little cottage adjacent to Dir- chestcr Prison rather later than his nSual time for getting home. It was a. bright, sunny evening, and conâ€" trasted vividly with the gloom he had just left. His daughter Mercy met him at the cottage door and gave him a, more than usually af- fectionate kiss ; but she noticed that he was somewhat preoccupied, and, .‘lovineg putting her arm round him, she asked, as she led the Way into the house :--â€"- “Dad, dear, what is the matter 2‘ You’re not your usual self. Some- thing has happened at the gaol.” ' “You’re quite right, ch11d--someâ€" ing, he had agreed. And, best of all There is one Judge who will convict he was to come toâ€"day and meet her a.- me if 1 do not speak the truth. I father for the first time, and there Was innocent. I was charged with would be no more secrecy in the matter of their attachment. He was to ask for her hand, and say before all the world that he wanted her for his little wife. Mercy Halliday and Sergeant Markham had met and fallen in love some months back unbe’known to the girl’s father. who. had not dreamed that his daughter would some day surely lose her heart. Halliday had looked upon her as a child always. He Was a rugged, simple man, and he did not profess to know much about womankind. Presently he returned, looking more like an ordinary civilian. He was, as he expressed it, "quite ready for tea if tea was ready for him.” So, together, he and his daughter went out into the pretty, well-kept garden at the back, where, on a horrid table under a shady tree, were ar- ranged the cups and saucers. Mercy smiled to herself as she saw thing at the {5101. It’s got on my the preparations; she had managed nerves, though I ought to have got things beamifuuy. used to almost anything in connecâ€" Her tion with my official duties by 50011; he WOUld . now.” she considered. soldierâ€"lover was to be here meet her father ; they would have tea. together, andâ€" A sigh escaped him, and he seemed the rest would be easy. glad to seat himself in the arm- chair which his daughter placed for him. "May I know What it is ‘P” the girl interrogated, in a tone full of sympathy. ",Yes, Mercy, I'll tell you. Since I got my appointment here two years ago, I don’t think there’s much I have kept from you; dear, and I know there's nothing you have kept from me.” Mercy Halliday felt her cheeks burn at her father’s last words, but not noticing her he went on : of the prisoners attempted to escape while at work toâ€"day; the alarm was raised, and one of my young as- sistant-Warders shot at the man while he was in the act of scaling the wall, and the prisoner fell like n, log. The assistant only meant to frighten or wing him, but, unforâ€" tinately, he has done more than that.” "Ard is the poor man dead ?” "No ; but I’m afraid there is very little hope for him. He was shot, and seriously injured by the fall as well. The doctors are doing every- thing possible; he may pull round and recover." ' "To go back to his prison life ? Father, it may seem wicked, but I think it would be better for him to die l" Enoch Halliday turned and looked at his daughter as she spoke. Yes ; There was a gate at ‘the end of the gardenâ€"walk which opened on to a lane. It was that way that she exâ€" pected her lover to come; and even as she glanced a handsome, braiized, khakiâ€"clad young fellow appeared there, and her heart gave a joyful throb as she recognized her soldier- sweetheart. "May I come in ‘2” he asked, in a voice that was not without a slight tone of apprehension. Enoch I-Ialliday gave a start; he had not bargained for this; he had "One quite thought it was to be a girl friend of Mercy’s. As his daughter ran to open the gate he turned to- wards the cottage, feeling that he could hardly trust himself to remain. What, could it mean ? “Father, dear’ ’â€"his daughter’s voice arrest-ed his stepsâ€"“please let me introduce one whom I want. you to like very much. Harry, this is my father. Dad, this is Sergeant Markham.” “I hope, sir, said the young nolâ€" dier, as he came forward, “that we may be good friends.” Again Halliday gave a start. It Was very strange. Where did he reâ€" member to have heard that voice ? He swung round and looked the soldier searchineg in the face. Then after a pause, he asked :â€", "What does Sergeant Markham want here, Mercy, and with me ?” “Let me answer, sir,” the young 1! She was right- He agreed with her“ man said,» “and speak for myselfâ€" it would be better. After a pause again :â€" “Dad, dear, it is a dreadful thing, and I know how it must worry you, who have such a deal of responsibilâ€" ity on your shoulders.” “Ah,” was the rejoinder, “it won’t be long, I hope, before I can give it all up; but thereâ€"there, l’nx really sorry I told you about this affair, Mercy. You look so scared, child.” “I should certainly have heard about it from other sources,” said the girl. Then going towards her, father she continued, tenderly : “You are a dear, tenderâ€"hearted old fath- er, and I love you for it. I wanted us to be very happy toâ€"day, though. Dad, dear, 'plcase go and change your coat and then I will give you a cup of 'tea." ~ Halliday, who wore his darkâ€"blue oflicial uniform, rose from his seat in evident accord with his daughter’s suggestion. She apparently had something further to say, but was somewhat at a loss how to express it. Her father had got to the door of the room before she again spoke. “Dad, dear, it’s such a lovely evenâ€" ing, 1 thoughtâ€"that is, I was going to suggestâ€"well, how would it be to have tea out in the garden ‘2” "Not at all a bad notion, Mercy,” Iialliday answered, readily. “And I want to ask as Well," the girl continued, “if I mightâ€"that is, would you mindâ€"can I 'ask Emma to set the tea for three, dad '2” There was a puzzled look on her father’s face for a moment: then he replied :â€" ' . “Asde a friend, eh ‘P Certainlyâ€" tea for three be it. I didn’t know I was going to meet company, so it will be better for me to change my coat and polish myself up a bit.” He disappeared into the passage, and the next instant Mercy heard him jocularly directing the servant, Emma, to set tea for three under the tree. Left alone, Mercy Halliday pon- dered deeply. What her father had told her concerning tlfe shocking event in the prison had unnerved her ; and to happen toâ€"day, when she felt so happy and imagined yet further happiness in store '. She took from her pocket a letter, glancing around in girlish confusion as she did so. Unfolding the missive she read it through for the hun- dredth time. Though only a short note, how overjoyed she had been to receive it that morning, for it told her that her sweetheart, Ser- geant Harry Markham, â€"th Hussars was back from the War safe and sound, and stationed at Birches-ter Barracks, not a mile away. The girl kissed the dear signature. She had seen the writer only an hour or two ago, and the glorious news he had brought had caused an unwonted thrill of joyful excitement in her ..reust. Her lover was going to the girl spoke leave the army, he told her. He had only enlisted for a certain object, which had been achieved, and his reâ€" latives, who were quite Well-tO-do, had insisted on l.im being bought out, and, much as be liked soldierâ€"' your daughter has already given me permission. Frankly, Mr. Halliday, I love Mercyâ€"have loved her from the day we first met; and I come here toâ€"day to ask you to give her to meâ€"let her become my wife.” Another pause : still the older man kept his glance full on the sergeant’s features. At last he spoke, but in harsh, unsympathetic tones :â€" “My child, your wife ? You must be madâ€"yes, mad ! Young man, you know what my station in life is, I presume. A year or two ago, beâ€" fore I got promotion to be chief- warder here in Birclrester, I was a warder at I’cntonvilleâ€"-â€"â€"” The young man’s cheek blanched and a look of agony came into his eyes, which did not escape Halliâ€" day. Ah, familiar nameâ€"ch ? I thought it might be. Among the prisoners who went through my hands there I particularly remember one. His name then was Henry Marple ; but he may have. forgotten itâ€"prisoners get so used to the number they wear and are known byâ€"â€"â€"" ‘ Mercy, who had listened to her father in silent horror, suddenly burst forth with a cry :â€" “Father ! Harry ! What does this mean 2‘” "Find the meaning yourself, child” her father answered: “ask that man if he ever bore the name of Henry Marple.” The girl Wondered if she had heard aright. There was an awful silence in the little garden for a space, and then, in trembling accents, the young soldier spoke :â€" “Mercyâ€"Mr. Halliday, I will tell you the truth, though Heaven knows it is hard to speak. Yes, I did hear the name of Henry Marple once.” “And served your time in prison,” llIalliday added, “under that name.” “Heaven help incâ€"yes.” The young girl stared at her lover aghast. It could not be true ! Her lips framed the words ; she whisperâ€" ed them huskin : “It is not true." “Not true i” her father exclaimed: "he knows, as I know, it is true enough." “Oh, there must be some explanaâ€" tion,” wailed the girl, pitcously. "It’s rather late in the day to explain," the cliiei-wardei‘ went on ; then turning fiercely to the young soldier : "Henry Marple, or Mark- ham, or whatever your name is, you dare, knowing what you are, to come and ask me to give into your care the most precious thing on earth to mka sweet, motherless daughter.” His voice rose higher in his anger. "As you have doubtless robbed others. so you would rob meeâ€"â€"â€"â€"" "Fatherâ€"pity l” came his dangli- ter’s tearful appeal ; “remember, I love him 1” “Then. child.” Halllday replied, “the man you love is a gaol-bird â€" ,a common felon I" The young soldier staggered as if he had been struck a violent blow. Recovering himself. he spoke man- fully, but with a note of despair :â€" “Mr. Halliday. I was innocent. robberyâ€"theft from the bank I was employed in 'as managing-clerk. The money was found upon me and my books were falsified, but I was inno- cent. 'I could not prove my inno- cenceâ€"my counsel could notâ€"I was the victim of a foul, deeply-laid plot. I was found guilty and sen- tenced, and served my term. When I again came back into the world my good name was gone. I had something to live down. I changed my name and enlisted. and thought that luck smiled upon my new name and new life. and nowâ€""t He broke off abruptly and groane'd in his anguish. Halliday spoke again : "I will not say I believe or dis- beli-eve you ; but you will see it is best for you to go from here. Work out your new life to the end ; form new friendships and forget us.” He moved to the garden-gate and openâ€" ed it. “Good-bye." His daughter sank sobbing on a seat ; the young sergeant made a movement as if to'go to her, then with an effort he straightened himâ€" self, and in another moment, with a dazed, despairing look on his face, he had passed out of the garden. The chiefâ€"warder watched him go slowly down the lane, then, hearing footsteps, he turned towards the house. Emma, the old domestic, was standing by the doorway looking with wondering eyes from him to his daughter. Well. what is it ?” he asked the woman. - . “You’re wanted, and quickly, at 'tho prison. The governor’s sent a lines-sage. Someone’s dead,” she re- plied, quietly. I-ialliday knew wno it would be ; he had thought as much. He glanc- ed at his daughter, then going to her he tenderly drew her towards him and kissed her softly. Then re- leasing 161‘ he gave a significant glance to the old servant, and withâ€" out a word more left the two to-- gethcr. No sooner had he gone than the young girl rose. to her feet. "Emma," she said, hurriedly, “do me a, service. I know you will, dear. Find Harryâ€"Sergeant Markhamâ€"â€" [you know him. He was here just‘ “nowâ€"only a -moment agoâ€"he cannot be far away." She pointed in the direction her lover had gone. Emma seemed to comprehend the situation in a moment, and with a cheery "I'll find him, dearie,” she was gone. Five minutes or more passed. They seemed an age to Mercy. She paced the garden distractedly. At last the and her lover appeared, followed by sound of returning footsteps fell upon her ears. Another moment, Emma, who had a glad look in her eyes, as She glanced at her young mistress and disappeared into the cottage. “Harry !” “Mercy, l” The lovers were clasped in one an- other’s arms. “You shall not leave me,” slobbe'd the young girl. “Mercy, you set- me the hardest task of all. This is the end. Your father was right. I will go back into the army, hiding like the felon I have been called, yet trusting that time may put things right at last. ‘I ask forgiveness for brirging this shadow across your bright young life. And now, goodâ€"bye.” , “I cannot say the words,” came the choking reply. “They must be saidâ€"they must. I 'am brave ; you mus-t be brave too. Mercy, good-bye. Forget me as soon you can.” “No, Harry, never l” the young girl cried, wildly, as she fell with renewed sobs upon her sweetheart’s breast. They stood thus for some few sec- onds and did nbt notice Halliday’s return. He had come back into the garden with some blue officialâ€"lookâ€" ing papers in his hand. He stopped abruptly at what he saw. After a short pause he called softly : “Mercy !” At 'the sound of his voice his daughter, without turning, gave a gesture of alarm. “(loâ€"go,” she said to her lover. “Noâ€"he may stay." Mercy and the young soldier ex- changed wondcring gliinccs as the, chief-warmer spoke. What could this change mean ? ‘ I “ll’lercy,” Halliday continued, com- ing to his daughter’s side, "I told you of a prisoner being wounded toâ€" day in attempting to escape. He is dead. He was a bad lot, I knew,’ but he has done some good at the; last. He feared to meet his _Makcrl without confessing to various ofâ€" fences for which innocent people have suffered. I have here his disposiâ€" tions given in the governor’s preâ€" sence. His name was Sherrardâ€"" “Sherrard l” exclaimed the young sergeant. “I knew a man of that name once.” “Yes 1” “He was a junior in the same banking-house Where I was managâ€" ingâ€"clerk' in the old days. I knew little of him, for he took a dislike to meâ€"why, I never understood. Can it possibly be the same man '2" "It ishthe same," the chief-wardâ€" er replied. “You know that ? How ‘2" the soldier asked. I “Fate works out its end. in a. mysterious way, Sergeant Markham. This man Sherrard has confessed to the robberyâ€"among " other crimes-â€"-' which he deliberately planned, and for which you wrongly, cruelly suffered.” In the silence of amazement that followed Enoch Halliday took his daughter’s right hand. and crossing to the young soldier placed it in his; then he turned away with glis- tening eyes, and the lovers' lips met in a silent kissâ€"London Titâ€"Bits: â€"â€"__.+____._. PEOPLE WHO LIVE IN TREES. A Village in France Built in the Tree Tops. About an hour‘s railway journey from Paris there is a remarkable village, the inhabitants of which spend their lives in the tree-tops. If you look for this curious spot on the map you will find it spelt Sceaux, though it is perhaps better known among the Parisians as "Le Vrai Arbre de Robinson." It ap- pears that some fifty years ago M. Guescem‘n conceived the idea of building, a restaurant in the tree- tops. He owned a bit of land at Sceaux in which stood a grand old tree. In the branches of this forest patriarch he erected small diningâ€" rooms, which were reached by rustic staircases. The view to be obtained from these leafy heights is unique. To celebrate the unconventional de- lights of feasts taken perched among the branches M. Guescenin called his tree “Robinson” dropping the Crusoe. The fame of the tree andâ€" its dining-rooms spreadâ€"all social, literary, artistic Paris made it a. point to breakfast or dine among rustling leaves. Imitators soon apâ€" peared on the scene, and to-day Sceau’x is nothing less than a vilâ€" lage built in the treetops. There are over a score oi trees with spa- cious dining-rooms, many also boasting of sleeping and living apartments, ingeniously constructed on the stout branches of the trees. The tallest tree may be likened to a threeâ€"storey dwelling. It has three distinct. rooms, built one above the other. Sceaux is undoubtedly a delightful little spot, and is wellpatronized during the summer months by the wellâ€"toâ€"do Parisian. Thousands of newly married couples spend their honeymoon here every year. The founder of the village, M. Guesâ€" cenin, is said to have made a large fortune out of his unique ideaâ€"far more than Defoe made out of his world-famous story, “The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe,” after whom the village is named. A very quaint tree dwelling is that to be found at the foot of Mount 'Temalpais, near the village of Mill Valley, not far from San Francisco. The residence is over 50 feet'above the ground, and is built round the trunk of a large redwood. It boasts of two rooms and a small kitchen. A balcony also runs right round it. It is» entirely Japanese in style, and was built by Japs under the super- vision of its owner, Mr. George Marshland. He built this pretty lit- tle home two years ago with a view to spending his honeymoon in it, but both he and his wife were so delighted with it that they have ocâ€" cupied it“ ever since. Ill THEIUNGLESIW INDIA HARNESSING THE POWER OF CAUVEBY FALLS. â€"_‘_, Utilizing the Water of the Mighty" Cataract of the Ganges of the South. Quietly, without any fuss or ostenâ€" tation, a. very remarkable industrial enterprise has been carried to a sucâ€" cessful completion in the heart of the jungles of India, says the Lonâ€" don Globe. We refer to the Cauvery Falls electrical power transmission works. The Cauvei‘y Falls are one of the sights of Southern India, and this month there will be opened works which havo taken not quite two years to construct whereby 4,â€" 500 horse power is transmitted over more than ninety miles to the very heart of the Kalar gold fields, and there distributed among ten gold mines, of which the best known in this country, perhaps, are the My- sore, Ooregum, Nundydroog, and Champion Reef. The magnitude of the undertaking will best be realized when we state that judging by the quantity of horse power, and the distance over which it is transmitted, these works are the second biggest in the world, and quite the most important throughout the British empire. The premier position is held by a Cali- fornian undertaking, the huge plant at Niagara not being employed to transmit power over any long 'dis- tance. Another peculiarly interest- ing feature of this Indian enterprise is its initiation and execution by a Canadian officer, a member of one of the oldest familes in the Doâ€" minion, Capt. Joly do Lotbiniere, RE. Thus not merely on the battleâ€" field, but in the paths of peace do colonial oflicers add new laurels to our imperial renown. The Cauvery is one of the sacred rivers of India, and is sometimes called the Ganges or the south. It rises in a. wild valley on the western borders of Coorg. From the sum~ mits of the encircling hills one looks down on the western ocean, not. forty miles distant. But the sacred stream springs eastWard, and Wind- ing through the broken uplands and Coorg and Mysore leaps dowu wild gorges to the thirsty plains, when it flows a mighty flood at this seaâ€" son of the year, but ever an unfailâ€" ing waterway to the Eastern Sea, 500 miles from its fount. Irrigation works are frequent along its course. and it spreads a network of viviiyâ€" ing channels - over Mysore and a wide area of the Madras Presidency. Along its banks the spectre of I tyrant might _â€"â€"â€"â€"-â€"â€"â€"â€" FAMINE SELDOM STALKS. The falls occur at the island oi SivaSamudram, on the eastern bor- ders of Mysore, the river here being the frontier line between the 'native state and British territory. Two other notable islands formed on the Cauvery are Seringapatam, where Tippoo Sultan's fort stood, and Srirangham, near Trichinopoly, fa- mous for its temples. At Sivasa- mudram is a. marvellous bridge, nar- row and tortuous, three-quarters of a. mile in length, built on piers of single monoliths. The falls are two in numberâ€"Duvi Chukki and Gan- gan Chukki. At the former the riv-‘ er broadens out, and its bed is studded with a‘thousand little isâ€" lands. The height of the falls is not great, under 200 feet. But Buvl Chukki is one of the loveliest water- falls in the world. The finest effect is by moonlight, when the river is at half flood. Standing on a bluff facing the cataracts, at one’s feet is a broad pool of broken silver water, and down the thickly wooded semi-circle opposite leaps the laugh- ing river, not in one roaring flood, but in 500 clamoring cascades, in and out among the trees, and over all hangs a veil of mist shining in the moonlight. Gangan Chukki is the very anti- thesis of 'its sister cataract. The river narrows and the flood rushes down the gorge, sending up clouds of spray that'on a clear day are visible for miles. At the foot of the Gangan Chukki, a few hundred yards down the rapids, stands the generating station. The Cauvery Falls are thirty miles from the nearest railway station in a thinly populated district. The country is very wild, and for miles the transmission line, consisting of telegraph posts carrying six strands of copper wire, run through hilly jungles infested by tiger, panther and bear. Herds of elephants still roam wild here. Tame e‘ephanti helped to convey the machinery from the railway to the worksâ€"they and bullocks, a white long-horned breed of draught bullocks, for which My- sore has for generations been fa- mous. It was the excellence of this breed that enabled Hyder Ali a cen- tury and a quarter ago to makt forced marches with his heavy ar- tillery, and nearly to drive Eng" land OUT OF SOUTHERN INDIA. Hyder Ali and his guns have passed, but his bullocks :and Britain remain to tame the waterfalls in place of ruthlessly bringing peoples into sub jcction. Not the least obstacle that Capt Joly de Lotbiniere had to overcoml was the popular superstition that the divinity of the sacred Cauvery would slay all that interfered wit]. the stream. Most difficult was it f0] this reason to collect labor, am malaria, always deadly in the rive} bottoms, especially when the soil if newly turned, played havoc, am there was also a bad outbreak o cholera. Ignorant peoples speak 0 these superstitions as foolishness. Yet in truth it is hard to conceiw higher wisdom than that wherebg the belief that the rivers were thl peculiar care ofg'the gods was firmly instilled into the popular mind i) days when Kings and Sultans were despots. A bridge foolishly built 01 a stream diverted by some pctt: have wrought per petual ruin for hundreds of miles 111: and 'down the Watershed. Dy tool and careful explanations the olc superstition was overcome and tin work proceeded quickly. This montl it is hoped that all the mining ma- chinery on the Koiar gold fields will be worked by electric motors, the power for which has been generated at the falls ninetyâ€"two miles away. If the full measure of success antici- pated by Capt. De Lotbinicre is at- tained, we shall soon hear of other Indian waterfalls being turned to practical use. _.___+ -\._..._ SMOKING PEOPLES. Smoking is universal in Polynesia, China, Japan, and Siam. In Burma the mother takes the che- root from her mouth and puts it to the lips of her aursw ing babe, while the child purses its tiny lips and pulls away with every indication of pleasure. Kafilrs h'a- bitually smoke cigars with the lightâ€" e‘d ends in their mouths and their tongues adroitiy tucked out of harm’s way. Even Stanley’s Pigâ€" mies of Central Africa are inveterate smokers. The sun nevar sets on the smoking world, for before the white man of the Occident puts down his pipe at night the yellow man of the Orient has lit his matutinal cheroot. O MEN AND WOMEN WORKERS. Nearly all the British census re. turns prove that man works more and woman less than they did ten years ago. Thus the figures for Staffordshire jusrt issued show that the number of men (i.e., males over ten) employed has increased from 83.6 per hundred in 1891 to 84.8 in 1901; whilst the number of women (i.e., females over ten) has decreased from 30.1 per hundred in 1891 to 28.5 in 1901. This is evidence of prosperity, since when times are really good the woman is not forced into the labor market. True in many direct-ions more and more wo- men find employmcntPâ€"many more are teachers and clerks, for instanm â€"-but the great decrease in the num. ber of domestic servants brings (3;..41 the general percentage. MA-A-‘-‘AA_-AA_‘-"-AA‘A