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r§4 n. ..~«~‘ ~â€".. ~..Mv’“~*"’: w. :- IflfiffiffiU-RPDSE CHAPTER IL . It seems taken for granted that, no- cording to the best authorities, and the high-st, or at least the most prevalent fashions of taste, nothing need be said of tho fit-ales, the fears, the trials, suo- census, and disappointments of any het'ocs and heroines who may get mar- ried. Those who have been fortunatef enough to taste the wedded bliss of rail life, know how far this is a sensible: rule, and how far justified by the abâ€"l sence of all exciting episodes after-I wards. However, we shall begin by adhering to this rule pretty closely, only indicating the course of Rodbury's life for a few years after his mar- riage; and it is but fair to his wife to start with. the declaration that he was more happy with her than he had ex-. pot-ted to be. The love “‘35 wholly‘ on the girl's side. ltodbury had not? for a long time the least idea of the; the reader palpably. With knitted thoughtful brow, he went on until he was within a. quarter of a mile of his own home, then, just as he reached the corner of a large street from which his smaller thoroughfare branched, he paused. looked hesitatingly down it for a few seconds, then, as though he had suddenly come to some decision, turn- ed abruptly round and at once struck: off in another direction. . As will be imagined, his way led him to his friend Ashwell's, and on inquiry he found that gentleman was within. "And never more glad to see any one in my life!" exclaimed Aslnwell, after a few words of explanation; "although I little expected so prompt an answer to my letter. You must have receiv- ed it, friend Launcest.on"'â€"- An exclamation anda warning shake of the head interrupted him here. “Yes, I said Launceston, and I meant it," continued Ashiwell. “I diâ€" rected the note to Mr. Rodbury. and re- peated the name inside, according to our agreement, but for the last time, I hope. Henceforth, you are again to be Cyrus Launceston to me and to the love which glowed, and flamed too, in’WllOle W011i" her heart. But he saw it at last and, as a man would see, not as a woman, came gradually and logically to knowlspokeu , and understand, that so long as he kept hpr love, and she knew or thought she too great for her to suffer or make in his behalf. seemed to know, even better than be; fore, that sho had never had his love. Her earnestness and inte’nsity almostl frightened him; and often, when hel {\Vhy, whatâ€"«what has happened?" said ltodbur ; and his face paled, then flushed, whi 0 his voice faltered as he ' “Your grandfather is dead. I was sent for by his special request, when , _ ; it was plain that his hours were num- had his, no pain, no sacrtiice would be‘ , bored," replied Ashtwell. "He is gone; so you have no cause to fear; and, moreâ€" Auer realizing this, belover, he had completely forgiven you, . as 1 can amply proved "But even if he hadâ€"twhich I could hardly believe if any one else had told me," said his friendâ€""even if he had done so, there are others still more dangerous who knowâ€"who had proofs was away from her. he would picture that,"â€" lier conduct in certain contingencies or trying positions. and the result of these ' "Not a bit of it, my dear fellow,” interposed Ashwell. as the other falt- ered. “But I had better tell you all reflections was rarely increased cmr‘ | about it; so, sit down thereâ€"take one fulness on his part. ’l‘wo childmn were born to them, a girl and a- boy. The girl was nam- ed Rose. Her mother had asked Rod- bury if he would not like to have a second name, after his mother; but; he said: “No. My mother‘s name was not so pretty as your own; so let it. be Rose only." ' With the hey it was different. Mrs. Rodbury wished his name to be “Fran- cis John," after her husband. her brother, and, as it appeared, her father; but here ;Rodbury was unexpectedly firm. :He was very grave fora while, more silent and (thoughtful, indeed, than Rose had ever known him for so long a. time, and ‘he would sit. and watch the sleeping child by the hour together,-when this spell was upon him. One dayâ€"he was to start on their came in and said he had registeredthe boy. and name was Cyrus. it had struck (him as being a very pretty name, and the had been reminded of it by a [tale he had recently read. Rose was quitte mortified at this, and shed a few tears of vexation at. the idea of her beautiful boy being called , by such. an. outlandish name. Whoever had heard. of Cyrus? Such an ugly, foreign-sounding name! Thus spake Rose; but the mischief was done. There was no doubt of that. for Sparle, whose chief failing was not. uhat of placing implicit confidence in any one, went round to the registrar, with whom .he had some acquaintance, and satisfied himself that Rodbury's statement was a true one, so far as it went. Sparle usllfied it. tith in his own mind, but aid nothing openly: 'fHe must have had some reason for calling the boy. Cyrus Launceston, and for holding his ton- ue about the second name." Thus re- lected Sparlo. "\Vell, I can hold my tongue as quiet as he can hold 1118, for a bit, anyhow. There is a place call- ed Launceston somewhere; 1 am sure I have heard the name; perhaps he has oomethin to do with thatvplace. Any- how, 1 ‘ all be likelier to find out if he does not ktnow exactly what I suspect; so we shall see." This little vexation was soon got over; and Rodbury and his wife part- ed good friends, when the former went off for his country round. Business was brisk upon this excursion, and there was increased geniality between the partners. A constant source of conversation was little Cyrus. of whom Sporlc. was quite as read;r to talk as was the father, and this was not feign- ed on “Uncle John's" part, as he was wally fond of both the children. If he had any other motive in so often turning the conversation to this topic, hp. always managed to conceal it under the interest he assuredly did take in the young ones: . The tour was concluded, and so suc- cessfully, that some plans for dividing the round and working it more com- pletely were discussed as the pair re- turned to London in the best. of tem- rs with. each other. They parted at half usual rendezvous. the stable and warehouse, and, as was natural. Rod- bury went straight home, or nearly _so. During the. time he had been wtth Sparlc, he had called. on returning to! and ere leaving London. at a certain restaurantâ€"a “coffee-shop" it was call- ed in its neighborhood, but modern taste cfers the foreign nameâ€"where as be ad arranged with his friend Mr. Ashwell, such letters of importance as it might for any reason he desxrable to screen from too general a gaze were to be sent. 4 . Hitherto. these calls had been frutt~ less; but on this night the landlord said: "Yes. Mr. Rodbury, tlwre is a letter for you at last; and any one would have the lit you knew it was com- . for it s not been here an hour." dbury smiled at this, uttered some little jest in reply. then carelessly thrusting the unopened letter into his pocket, walked away with anything but he air of a man who was expecting‘of his propert was left to his linportant news. This indifference only lasted until he was fairly out of Sight of the shop; he then-tore open and country round upon the next oneho\a‘d snob 3' l of these cigarsâ€"and listen.” llfr. Ashwell then entered on a sum- I'mary of what. had transpired of such importance to his friend; a pretty llengthy summary too, requiring the Ibest part of an hour in its telling; but in. brief outline of his narrative will lserve our purpose. Herbert Ashiwell and Cyrus Launcesâ€" ton had been playfellows, schoolfellows, and friends; while the latter, having once saved .Ashlwell's life at the imâ€" minent risk of his own, had earned the neverâ€"failing gratitude of his chum. al- though he made light of the service himself. _He was wont to say, with a lrttle spice of truth, that as it was the only good deed he had ever done, it shone out more vividly with him than it would have done with any one else. Both launceston's parents died when hn'vvas young, leaving him to the care of his grandfather, a wealthy and in the main 9. kindly man, but crotchety, hasty of temper, and tyrannical; not at all a. model custodian for a. youth, youth. What judicious treatment and care milghn; have done for Cyrus, it is impossible to say; he had enough, as he owned, of the family gifts to need a. great deal of both these essentials, and he got nothing of them. First, he quarrelled with the old man, Violently, too, as such a pair would be likely to quarrel; then, as nothing was gained and much lost by this, the young fellow took to craft, and tried to hoodwink his harsh old relation. Unluckily. he got hold of a very had set; such a. young man as himself was sure to get. hold of a bad set; on which the need for cunning and craft increased rapidly. In plain Eng- lish, Cyrus was a sad young fellow, selfish in the extreme, dissipatedâ€"of course hypocriticalâ€"and was sowing worse grain all round than even the traditional wild-oats. Much. detail of his behaviour is not required here; but it turned out that his grandfather, who was fully four- some years of age, had held him more closely under watch. than the young man dreamt of, so knew of nearly all he would have concealed, among other Uhi-ugs of his having given postâ€"Obits, bills payable at his grandfather's death, and discouan at a ruinous rate upon the chance of his being made heir to the old man’s property. Al: last there came an explosion, premature on each Side, it would see, for Cyrus could not afford at this crists to quarrel with the. old man, Who on his part, had he but waited for a day or two, would have heard of something well calculated to cause a. breach between them, had all else been satisfactory- . As it was, they parted after a stormy .Interview, in which, it was reported, lthe elder struck his grandson across the face with his came so as to draw blood. On the next day his bankers ad- vised him that he had slightly over- drawn his account. They had paid his cheque for a thousand pounds, but only out of courtesy to an old cus~ tomer. This cheque was a forgery, 'and Cyrus Launoeston the forger. The old man was furious. He paid the cheque, and so obtained possession of it; but then he gave information to the (police. and actually offered a re- war for the culprlt's apprehension. This was so trivial in amount, however, las to savour more of an insult than a ‘stimulus. It was supposnd that Cyrus would endeavor to make his escape to ‘America; and as he was not stopied ,at the ports, it was supposed also t at be had succeededl Ashwell kept upon friendly terms with the old man, and by his counsel and by his unfailing advocacy of Cyrus. who, he always contended, had never had a chance to do well, had gradu- ally soothed the grandfather. who, with advancing years and declining health. became antler in his memories of the boy, as termed him. and‘a severer critic of himself. He thought that Cy- rus must be dead; but Ashwell invari- ably asserted his conviction that he was not; he had stronger grounds for this conviction than he chose to con- fldo to the old man; but the latter was very shrewd, and may have divined that Herbert knew more than he. told. Be that as it may, when the old gen- tleman died, it was found that the bulk grand~ son. if clatme by him within seven years. The forged cheque had been de- stroyed in Ashwell's presence; while tho- eagerly read the note. It was brief, and i old man had written to the police, and emphatic: "Dear Rodlmry-Come to moi had advised the bank. that on reflec- at once; I have news of 1m . ouâ€"ncws which changes everything. Bo not déhyr-H. A.“ _ This was ail; but there was quite enough in these few words to disturb penance forltion he saw it was probable that his grandson considered he had authority to sign in but name; and so there was no criminality in the act for which he had fled. "So everything is plain sailing for you." concluded Ashwell. whose_narra- tive. as may be supposed, did'not include 3-” [ha paints herein detailed. "lou are worth a. hundred thousand pounds as you stand there. besides the hopse and grounds. All is clear now. 10o 93“ 80 and take possesion fearlessly. You will look out for a handsome Wife, and settle down among the best of them. ~And then. you know. bygone-‘3 will be bygones." - "And is such a marriage to be the natural results of my change of for- tune i" said Rodbury. or Launceston. “Is it in such a posttion I am to find my happiness?" He spoke with appar- ent difficulty. and ended with a short laugh. so harsh and strange. that Ash- well looked curiously at him for an instant ere he spoke. :‘You are a queer fellow, Cyrus.”th said; “but that you always were. \\ by do you pitch upon one harmless jest â€"if you like to consider it soâ€"to the exclusion of everything else? When you come into your money, which practi- cally you may do toâ€"morrow. you will naturally think of settling. and then"â€" "No! Ishall not!" abruptly inter- rupted his friend. “I am married." "Married!" The surprise had evident- ly rendered Ashwell incapable of say- mg more for the moment; but recover- lng himself, he continued: “You are married. and have kept it from me? This was not friendly or wise, Cyrus. I should have been glad to know your wife; I might have done more for you and her’â€"-â€"â€" ‘ “And the children," again abruptly interrupted Rodbury, as we shall con- tinue to call him. "Yes, you may stare; but it is true. I have been married long enough to have two children;and my wife belongs to the tribe of hawkers and cheap jacksâ€"or her friends do." "By Jove!” muttered Ash-well. The quick ears of his visitor' caught the exclamation, subdued though it was. “I tell you. Herbert," he Went: on, "that notwithstanding (this, she is good enough for me, and is a true and devoted wife, according to her light.‘ I looked upon mysolf as no bet- ter than a fugitive convict, so what did it matter how I flung myself away? But even that last sentiment is all humbu-g. I repeat that she was quite good enough for me. To keep up my character, I suppose, and to ensure my marriage being in keeping with the rest of my honourable life, I married her under a false name. To her I am Frank Rod'bury, and she is Mrs. Rod- b'ury.â€"You might have expected this from meâ€"might you not?" “Sit down again," returned Ashwell; "talk calmly and reasonably if you can. and tell me all aboult this strange business.” His friend complied;'and his narra- tive evidently had the greatest. in- terest: for Ashwell. Now, ,the latter w‘as an honourable man. a. «generous and devoted friend, as he had shown often enough. But he was, and always had been, under a sort of glamour or charm as regarded Cyru‘s, whom he rated far too highly, and for whom he always made excuses. He believed in him. 115 as calculated to make a. figure in the world if he could only get; a chance; and this admiration, this belief, ren- dered him an unsafe adviser when his friend's interests were concerngyl; per- verting his own honour and truthful- ness into something wearing a very different aspect. On the few occasions. when, of late years, he had seen and conversed With Ashwell, Rodbury always left him the better for the interview ;_ but he did not do so on this night. If the counsel Ashwell had given, or rather the hint- ed suggestions he had made, for the time had hardly come for direct. coun- sel on the subject, were such as would prompt the ungenerous line of .conâ€" duct-on Rodbury's part, fate. played strangely and unexpectedly 'ltnto this hands. Rodbury walked thoughtfully home- wards: it will be admitted that he had some food for thought; and his reverie was so absorbing that. it was more by habit than observation that; he reachâ€"l ed. his house,» but there he was sud-l de-nly_ aroused-fl I He dwelt irra small back 'Street.i lined with\six7'roomed houses. _ decent- and quiet enough places, and his, most of the others; held more than one fam- ily. He and Rose held four rooms. a' man and his wife rented the other two, I and all had hitherto gone on smoothly between them. The man was an omnt-‘ bus conductorâ€"it. must be seen that. the social change likely to arise from, Rodbury’s succession to wealth was6 great and tempting-50 was from home} a great deal. and on this particular day. , chance, or fate. brought about a quarâ€"l rel between the two wives, on some. mean and paltry question of washing; or drying clothes. as far as could be: made out. In his then mood. a quarrel! on such a basis was inlinitely more gallâ€" ing and painful to Rodbury than any outbreak arising from more important matters. “Why, Rose!" he exclaimed. as he; threw open the gate of his little gar-. den and saw his wife standing in the: passage leading from the street door.l utterly disgusted and shocked as now. Rose was penitent on coming to her- self, and begged her husband's pardon for the outbreak. He had not shown many lofty characteristics since his marriage. it is true; but for all that. the girl was fully aware that he had been once in a very different sphem. and was not likely to tolerate such a display._ She was very fond of him too; and this fact. shone strongly through her penitence. her tears. and her pro- mises of refonnation. In some strange manner. all tlIiS. even her affection, contributed to heigh- ten the loathing with which Rodbury already regarded his home; but as he was a man to whom deceit always came easily, be assumed a forgiving mood much earlier, as his wife naively oun- ed, than she had expected; and she thought him the kindest and best-tem- pered man in the world. The lodger was forgiven also; Rodbury actually uttered some jests about the skirmish. and so all was harmony once more. _'l‘hts was of course gratifying. and his excellent temper, after so irritat- ing an incident, was. or ought to have been. gratifying also; but if Rose had some of the failings of a woman, she had a woman's instinctive quickness and penetration as well. and a vague alarm took pomession of her. She knew not what she dreaded; but she felt almost frightened when in her hus- band's presence. and although she had really been a good wife, had never been so docile and watchful to anticipate his wishes as now. The time had almost come round for the firmâ€"Sparle and Rodburyâ€" to make another start, and the latter grew gentler and fender of his children's company than was his wont. He had not been a very attentive father. and even In this change there was a vague something which was’now ever present to Rose. She tried to laugh it off. anti spoketo her brother about it; but the experiment did more harm than good. for she found that. a kindred feeling was in the man’s mind. “There's a change come over him that I can't make out," was his summing- up; “he keeps his affairs more to himâ€" self than he has any need to do; but; he has got something in his mind, I am sure." The very next day after this consul- tation too kplace, Rodburyr announce- ed With some abruptness that he should not be able to commence the journey wtth Sparle. whom he would join about a week later. To the strong remun- strances of his partner. he only replied that he had some important. business to look after. and that if any loss en- sued, he, Rodbury, was willing to bear the whole of it. So perforce the matter was settled. Sparle mentioning in confidence to his Sister that "if this was going too be the game. I shall not stand much of it; not but that I shall be glad to be away from him for a. day or two." If _Rodbury had not: married his sister, 1t 15 probable that Sparle would havo preferred a dissolution of partnership, as he had never heartily liked the man. ’lhts course was, however, out of the question. and so Mr. Sparle started on his round alone; feeling that there was something in the air which boded no increase of comfort to the circle. ('Ib be Continued.) TO CONTROL JACK. llulcs Enforced on Shipboard to Keep the Sailors In Absences. The rules regulating the‘conduct of sailors may appear somewhat drastic, but it is needless to say that they are necessary in order to insure good gov- ernment on shipboard. A few of the more important ones‘are as follows: For quarrefling, or provoking to quar- relll, he forfeits a day's pay. The same punishment is inflicted on th'eOman who carries a sheath knife. If he brin s s irits on board, he ‘05 three days’ iDivttgges. ' i as For every smoke indulged in "below" heTlgorfetts onto hday's wage. . esamet‘ en cats to t lights when ordel‘edégfl pu out If the lookout man falls asleep, his nap costs him two days' pay. If the cook has not dinner on the tab.e at: the stroke of the clock, it is a matter of one day's pay. And for not being shaved, washed and oleaned spick and span on the Subâ€" bath he loses a. day's pay; also insolence to master or mate means one day’s pay Lost, and striking an one on board double that amount. y ' \Vhile for attempting to smu le a few pounds of tea. or tobacco or gagged,- lon of rum he loses the wages of a. whole month. -.- â€"._ .. ...~.._ . TABLE CREENERY. t is a wise woman who always has something green upon her table, and who takes care that it isn’t the same object for asufficient‘ly long time to which was wide open, her face flushed 5 disgust her family; In the summer she scarlet. whille shetgvas exchzlilnglilngf anlwm have one (my a bunch of buttmu “angry are" w1 some .5 rt em-! . . inme “£06 in the upper Part of the, cups, the next of daistes, then a blue house. "Be calm. Bosel" he continued. ’ DOW} filled with pale pink primroses, "Do not excite yourself. If Mrs. Ki1-’ by has offended you, she shall. leave." "Leave! Leave I" screamed his wrfe;. her tone pitched for the benefit “of her. unseen adversary. "I should think she should leave! She shall go before din- ner-time to-morrow, and I Will, turn her out myself. if-no one else will do it." "You! you lâ€"such a thing as you i", retorted the voice. "It is more than; you dare do. I can show_my receipts, for rent; and you lay a finger on me! or touch an thing of mine, and l wrll‘ have you be are the magistrateâ€"a thingl I dessay you are used to. madam." "Come in, Rose! Do you hear“? Come in. 1 say!" cried Rodbu . seizing his wife's wrist. "You mus not go on like this." But if he had not known it before. he was to learn new of how little avail are masoni and commands with an infuriat woman. It was many minutes ere he could part the dispu- tants. whose language grew hotter. as the "bite" on either stde~told; and when at last he got his wife into her nwn‘rooms. she was seized. as a mat- ter of course.“ with a desperate fit of crving hysterics. g _ v , it was specially unfortunate that such a display should have occurred on this night. Rodbury had never before seen his wife at her Worst; he always knew she was capable of violent pan- [1 but she had not shown it so upen- Ey Twenty-four hours earlier he would have been offended. angry, or doubt, but he would not have been so I t I again some sweet peas in a. tall glass. anon only a. lot of ferns in a clear glass vase. \Vhen fall comes on and there are not many flowers she brings in bunches of grass, bright-hood leaves or handfuls of bittersweet berries or the berries that grow on the wild cran- berry bush. The bittersweet berriesby the way. she carehxllly mserves {or occasional use during the winter. in the. cold weather, of canine. she is obliged to rely on growing ferns in pretty pots. broadâ€"heaved begtmias, and occasional bunches of carnations from the florists. . She finds. however. that it costs very little to decorate the table the year round. and the festive appear- ance a bit of green or a flower gives to the is wdll worth a far great- er expenditure - A. KNOTTY PROBLEM. Fond Wifeâ€"What are you worrying , about this evening? Husband, a young lawyerâ€"An im- portant case I have on hand. My client to charged with murder. and I can’t make up my mind wheuber to tr .to prove that the deceased was kill by - some other than, or is still alive. WHEN LICB’EEODUCTIVE. A hen attains her best laying capacity in her third year. She will lay in an CHRISTMAS GIVING. ” Freely Ye Have Received, Freely Give." Them are some good peophe who pro- test against what they consider the useâ€" les extravagance of the Christmastide. but we cannot say that we envy them. Christmas giving has come to stay, and. as all the churches. not merely the pro- Intical onw, observe the Christmas seas- on now in some way or another, by the association of ideas almost. every one feels that Christmas brings to him or her a special obligation to do thing, be it little or much, to make some other heart glad on that preâ€"emin- entity bright and joyous occasion. Our merchants calculate very confidently on this universal feeling, although they complain of the inevitable reaction in January and February. year would seem to have a. great gap in it if in these intemal‘nry weeks, so to say, between the days of ingathen ing and the mill-blown Christmas week. the stone windows were not rich with some- In fact, the the garniture of vivid colors, toys for the little ones, books of every variety of omamentation and the widest liter- ary range, fancy articles of every de- scription, and in short, that dehightfuslt aggregate of the aesthetic which so gently relaxes purse strings and gives one a thrill of pleasure’in the! thought of the Aladdin’s lamp of altruism which he is now so industriously rubbing. 'l‘he pleasant mysteriousness of the unopen. ed package, the certainty of an equally pleasant revelation, the" association of every such gift with this particqu Christmastide, as long perhaps as life shall last, and perhaps when the dear hands that tied it up are cross- ed on the breast and the eye beaming with the thought of mother's pleasure is forever closedâ€"these are among life's bri htest and purest joys and they sin 9 when much of the mere pleasure of acquisition or personal: triumph in the world has faded away in the fierce pursuit of.somei.'h.ing else. Christmas gift: has its distinctly religious association. It is not an ac- etdent that this reason. of aim others Loosens our purse strings. It. is earth's first; Christmas gift, whether we think of _it at the time or not, which is the swing inspiration of the generosity of Yule. It is the gift which came down to us from heaven. on that still! mid- night in the manger that gives to this season its true altruistic tinge. It is not merely because the fruits of the year are in and the arners groan with grain and trade qui s to the impulse of harvest and Vin .. It is because of the Messianic gift, first and foremost -â€"so that Christmas is proâ€"eminenth the season in which the cast-iron regul'nrity of our economy is refluxed, and we open our hearts, and consequently our scrip, to blue appeal of a generous sentiment, and let us not forget also, to the un- spoken plea of those whom we have 8dr ways \Vll‘lllh. usâ€"the poor and needy. If Christmas on its eleeinosynary side alone, could be wiped out, it is hard to set a limit; to the gap which would be made as regards Christian benevo- lence. There are many human beings -â€"more perhaps in the aggregate than most of us dreamâ€"who would go the year through without; one my oflight on_ their darksome path. The Christmas spirit seeks out every one. If any are omitted, the oversight is. in the pur- est; sense accidental. The beauty. too. of Christmas benevolence is that it does not rank under the too often depre- ciatory and half insulting head of char- ity. The proudest and 'most keenly sen- atttve among God’s poor, can accept Without loss of lingering self-respect: that which loving hearts and gener- ous hands have laid at their door to brighten the mom of their Yule, The King's birthday is the time for gifts. No one need blush at the sight of a Christmas gift even if it means an nlms to save from starvation or nakedness. The giver of such is “ twice blessed " in his own iritual nature and in the thought of t e light which breaks un- der his touch for bleak and cliccrlcss homes. and around the board of other- wise Barmecide feasts. Every one is bet- ter for Christmas giving, even although some may set about it at first as a task. Ultimately. the pleasure of the work grows by what it. feeds on, and we leave the Christmastide almost won- dering that we let such long intervals slip as regards these deeds of love and kindness. and almost regretting that every year brings only one Christmas in which to inspire the world with the delight of following our Lord's injunc- tion: " Freely ye have received, free- ly give l” But Christmas giving ought to have its prospective influence. If it warms our hearts. why not keep its embch warm, for are they not as live male from the altar? Are. these homes. here and there, dark and chill only in late December? Is not the whole your bur- dened with the weight of human sor‘ row. much of which is voiceless either from pride or from a feeling lhnt ap- peals to others may be mihemlotl? n it not the Christian's opportunityâ€"to fan the flame of Christmas altruism into a steadicr and more .renninl glow? May we not bear wit. ' us less- sons of true thoughtfulness for others which may scatter flowers of hope and be] over the course of another year an shed the fragrance of true Chris- tian sympathy. tho smypathy of deeds as well as words. over many a bare and desolate home? . -._.___.._. BLACK DI A MON DS. ls coal really so dear, Grumpy? asked his wife. Dear? it's come to be one of the pre- cious minerals. I want you to kcc a keen eye on that fellow carrying i in and see that he doesn‘t put any of the nuggets in his indict." THE PAKNTER'S DREAM. "I'd love to [mint her as; ch:- is." He murmured. of his sainlml. "Why should you l‘" asked his pal. "bev " cause ' . . She is already pointed? THE nt-zEFi-EST now. The deepest hole in the world has been bored in Siesta. It has reached a depth of 6,520 feet, and passes through average lifetime from 300 to 500 eggs. 83 beds of coal. l l g ,..i...-â€"â€"â€".â€".:!._,.,,.. ,,... .,. ., . .-â€"â€"._.__.-_..._. - -__.... . _.._. .-._... __.‘ ~mw.......... ....._.