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AN ALTER’E’DTURPOSE‘ CHAPTER W. Sparle's information was only too cor- rect. Rose was ill, was suffering from & virulent type of smallpox. and was even in this short time seriously alterâ€" ed for the worse. Again was the house cleared; again was the trained nurse sent for; and it was plain that each file fresh open parture had come. -" And I wonder."he muttered as. after a short saunter in air; he came in sight of his house. “ what will happen to up- set my plans to-night‘i' There has been «the worst of luck about them at pre- 2 i sent." He was conscious, while persuading himself that he was anxious for a fine. success. that his heart was not somuch in the scheme as it had been. and that person who saw Rose took an unfavor- its completion would cause in him but tble view of her case. . She was beginning to wander in her -ind; but she never failed to know a moderate exultation. He went into the house and into his wife's room. It was now the early twi- light of an August evening. Every- todbury. smiling after a sad. tearful thing. even in that crowded neighbour- fashlon. when he came to her side. and kissing his hand. while she strove to say in broken words how sorry she was to find herself giving so much trou- bleâ€"rather an incoherent speech. it may - be; but she wished him to know it was upon his account, not her own. she was regretful. Now, this was a terrible fix for Rod- bury to quote his own reflection. He was for the second time ready to start upon his journey. was actually on the eve of departure. and again. as on the previous occasion, a serious hindrance cropped up. Heâ€"and the nurse had said as muchâ€""did not like the look" of Rose. and, in fact, had at once made up his mind that she would die; and so, although he had resolved to leave herâ€"had persuaded himself that he was entirely tired of her and her associa~ lionsâ€"yet how could he desert the girl, his own wife, just as she was dying? When she was gone, there'would be no one to see to the poor children; and. besides. there came with an awful force and suddenneas upon him the memory of all the devotion she had displayed during his illness. While thinking thus. it also swiftly flashed upon him that it might have been his illness which caused hers; another reason for showing a little more consideration for her. A twinge of something like remorse pained him when he thought of this, and of the train of selfish, unfeeling plotting by which he had repaid her. Perhaps from that moment he was con- scious of a tenderer feeling for his wife lhaii ,he had hitherto believed to be possible. Come wlhat might, be resolv- ul he would not; leave London just at ince; he would stay to see that his 'hildrcn were properly disposed of; he would see the end of Rose; andâ€"yes. he ought to do thatâ€"he would be kind and considerate to her while he was with her. It is possible, we repeat. that from that time Rodbury was less en- lirer wrapped up in selfishness, and his thoughts held more of tenderness for ‘his wife than they had ever held before. So day after day be postponed his deâ€" parture. and day after day [he was in the sick~rnom, full of contagion to all but lliose who, like himself, were har- dened by having passed through the terrible ordeal. He was surprised af- ter a woekbr so had elapsed. to find how attentive he had grown; how it scorned noirouble to him to hold the coming drink to poor Rose's feverish “41132.90 mosten Ili‘er burning brow, or L0 Sliifl‘ilef‘ painful position;and it was wonderful how the girl preferred his help to all other. and how, when at the worst. she brightened at the sound offing voice; yet more wonderful than this was the happiness it gave him to be able to render these services. Bur it gave more pain than pleasure to hear her. in her scarcely audible ac- cents. thanking him. and saying how she should never never be able to re- paiy h.-r dear husband for all his kind- nessâ€"tile best and most devoted hus- biind in the world. It was impossible for any one who had nourished and ma- tured such designs as had so lately been llodbury's, to feel otherwise than faultyâ€"a base guiltinessâ€"on hearing anguzige which was more touching than the V kecncst reproaches. \\ hen she was quiet, too Weak to sn-ak. but not too weak to smile, as sin held his hand while he sat by her side in tho-darkened room. she would recall tile'tlllla when she was a bright. healthy girl. and afterwards it ha py mother. devoted to her children am to her husband: all her faults and foibles sank to insignificance then. and he be.- gim to doubt wilihther among the fresh sci-nes ho was to seek he would ever be happier. He doubted. too. whether he should ever find another so entire- ly uarnest in her love for him. one who, to use a homely phrase. would go through fire. and water for him: and followmg up this train of thought. be doubted if she would live when she found herself deserted by him. The shock might kill her; but beyond that there was a chance that so fiery aspir- it as was here. with all her love. would lead her to put an end l0 her own life if nothing still worse followed. tiparlc had gone back to his district. being unable to spare any mom time. so he was not to be feared. To do Rod- biirv justice. he was hardly likely to :lnlli Sparln or any one else in personal car. At last. after much dcliberation.more painful tli'in he had expected to find the task of decision to prove. he resolv- ed to wait a day or two longer. so as to see her through the crisis. and then he would leave her. He was angry with himself for showing such hesita- tion. winch. indeed. surprised as well as angered him. He did not dream that it was one of the best symptoms his careless Selfish nature had ever Shawn; nor did be properly estimate the pains which the prospect of part- ing with his wife and children gave him. The proposed time elapsed: his wife seemed duly passing through (be no- cessary stages to coni'alcsccnce: she can family was growing stronger. lleroyr‘s it was this “are covered by a ban- isirc: but this. Rodbury knew, or thought he knew. was a very common Jh‘ldt‘nf. in this terrible disease. Thus the days )vcnt on. until once again. for the third time the eve of his de- hood. happened. as he remembered many and many a day afterwards, to ,be hushed. No vehicles were passmg; the vendors of street goods had not come out for the night, while those who plied during the day had ceased their calling; even the children on the street were quiet. How well Rodbury after- wards recalled the unaccustomed peace and ‘h’ush of that moment! The room had hitherto been kept darkened. but the blind was now drawn up, and it was light enough; yet Rose still were a shade over her eyes. The window was open. and the soft balmy air of summer's last days made pleasant even the confined apart- ment. Rose turned to her husband as she heard his step. with a smile. He had grown used to see in 'hier smile some- thing very sad; but as the light fell upon her face this evening. there was then an expression which it pained him to see. and the same light showed how terribly she was disfigured by the dis- ease. Hitherto, this unsightlinessâ€"such a dreadful calamity for Rose. and her bright pretty faceâ€"had been used by her husband in his attempts to steel himself for his task; but now. he could not understand why, although he had never seen the disfigurement so plain- ly. and thbugh her features had nev- er apieared so seamed and unattrac- tive, ' yet felt nothing of the repul- sion such a. change might have been expected to produce. He sat down by his wife and spoke to her. She smiled again. but this time her lips quivered strangely; then, as had been her habit of late, she felt for his hand, pressed it in her own. clasped it 'to her for an instant, then kissed it fiasswnately. and burst into a rain of ysterical tears, striving through her' wild sobbing to say something which she could not render intelligible. Rodbury threw his arm round her. and drawing :her head down upon his shoulder. spoke soothineg to her and asked with a solicitude he had no need to feign, the cause of this outburstâ€"- lying her, too, on the folly of thus givmg way. now that she was getting well so fast, and had passed all the dangers of her fearful illness. “0 Frank! my own. may dear ‘husâ€" band!" at last exclaimed 'e girl, " do not speak like that, or you will kill mel [ h'aVe never been fit to be your wife. I know, and have always known it; you have borne with me because you were kind. and I had, perhaps. some common prettiness.â€"Nol do not interrupt me," she said, as Rodbury began to speak: "all that is true; but do not argue up- on it, for you do not know what is coming. My face, event such as it was, is utterly disfiguredâ€"I can feel it is; myniere touch tells me how I must look. I shall only know it thus, for I am now less fit than ever to be your wife. I am blind, Frank! completely and hopelessly blind! I shall never see the light of day again; and worse than that, far, far worse! I shall never more look on the kind face of my dear hus- band. or see my darling childrenâ€"Ah! you draw from mel I knew you would. \th should a sightless. disfigured"â€"â€"â€" “Draw from you, Rose !â€"â€"shrink from my dearest wife!" exclaimed Rodbury. He had involuntarily pushed back his chair at the first shock; but now he clasped the girl in his arms and spoke with an earnestness which had the ring of truth in it. "I will hope for bet- ter than you tell me. \Vith time"â€"â€" Poor Rose’s tears burst into a fresh flood at this, and she gasped: “No. no! â€"neverl Dr. Berge told me so today." “Then I will always stay with you. Rose !" cried her husband. His words had a deeper meaning than was dreamt of by their bearer; “and you shall not miss even your eyes while using mine. I have news also; but I will say only this at present: we shall always be above any need for toil, above all fear of want. You shall have no care for our living or the comfort and well- being of our children. and 1 need never again go out with John. My circumâ€" stances are greatly changedâ€"Now, dry your tears. and tell me where you should like to live with the children. and what they shall have to please them." He said a great deal more. certainly in a strain which he had not intended to fall into when he entered the house; but without thoroughly know- ing it. Frank Rodbury, so to call him still. had been undergoing an improv- ing discipline for some time. He had. until that hour. persuaded himself that he was as determined to carry out his plans of emancipation as ever; that is. he thought he was as selfish as ever. but his churlishness llild been greatly undermined, and he was an altered man. Now. the terrible announcement made by his wife; the sight of her seamed and pitted face. which the poor girl knew was disfigured. but which she would never see; the picture which arose constantly in his mind of the children. his children, soolhing and clinging to their blind, unsightly. and (deserted mother. was too much for on. He was sincere in what he said; and despite the shocking circumstances which surrounded them. he passed an hour or two by his wife's side more ha ipily than he had passed any inter- val for months. After a day or two. all fear of contagion being gone, Rose was moved to a healthy northern au- burb of London. and her children were brought to see her. These were in ro- bust health. The girl could toddle- about freely and talk with a very pretty tongue; while a finer little fel- low than the boy never greeted a fa- tbcr's eyes. Rodliury groomed when he reflected that the poor mother would never again look upon their blooming features or see their pretty curls; and then. with a still keener pang. he. thought: "What could l have been dreaming of. to plan the leaving such beautiful crea- iures as thcscl children tlirit many a lord would give half his lands to own." This was a great change from his pchliHIS lines of reflection: but Rod- ; iml'y was upttwnScious of any inconsis- w' .tency; he culpaknew that his heart 7 dren. and felt that he coulan be 'now seemed bound to his wife and chil- ha ’py apart from them. . lg. need inerer be said here that the subsequent reports of the doctor and the condition of the patient herself only too strongly confirmed the painful announcement Rose had made. She was blind. hopelessly blind. Yet. as it so often happens with. us in our worst afâ€" flictions. there was even with this some alleviating power. for in the inâ€" creased attention of her husbandâ€"the softened tone and tenderness which she so soon r nizedâ€"Rose had an under- current of oppiness despite of her blindness; and the sad smrle which was familiar to her lips was changed for a brighter if still a subdued one. As soon as it was safe to do so, Rod- bury went to his friend Ashwell and consulted him as to the best plan to be pursued under his altered views. These views considerably astonished Mr. Ashwell. who was greatly affected by poor Rose's story. and honestly re- proached himself for having given counâ€"’ sel to her husband which involved so much pain to her. He had no doubt as to the counsel he should 81%,. and this exactly chiming wih his friend's own views, it was immediately adopted. A great deal might be said about the iinportant changes which took place; but as the result must be plainly fore- seen, it will not be worth while L0 post- pone the olose of our story. Rodburyâ€" he never changed his assumed nameâ€" decided upon going to the Far _\Vest, to California, indeed; and revealing to some extent his altered position, he asked Mr. Sparle to go with him. see- ing many ways in which the sound pracâ€" tical sense and business habits of his brotherâ€"inâ€"law would be .valuable; but. Sparle's reply was a. decided negative. andâ€"as his last utterance in our chron- icleâ€"shall be recorded. . "No, Mr. Rodbury," he said. "I am much obliged to you, but it won’t do. I am not half: so surprised about our money as you may expect, for.I ave always seen‘ you was of a different stamp from ourselves; and 1f 1 could have stopped her. Rme should not have married youâ€"that's_straight. I can see why you are taking her and the young ones to America; you Will not meet any of your friends in Cali- forny; and l desay you “'LU. manage well there, and bring up the girl and boy like a lady and gentleman. But you could not make a. gentleman me; and after a. time I'should be in the way. and be always reminding you. if it was only by my being there, of these view he sailed for New York, Roseand would be miserable. No; we are best apart, and we both feel it." 1n his heart. Rodbury was probably pleased at this decision. \Vithin a fortnight from this interâ€" view he sailcd foor New York, Rose and the children travelling in such stateâ€" with four servants or nurses. these not so much for the journey as for help in their new lifeâ€"as almost frighten- ed her. This, of course. she soon got over; and her unfortunate h.indness shielded her in her intercourse With the other passengers, who might other- wise have marvelled at the manners of their fellowâ€"voyager. California was duly reached, and a farm, which they soon learned to call a “ranche,” purchased. If Sparle’s pre- diction about bringing up the children as ladies and gentlemen was not liter- ally fulfilled, yet all five, of which number his family eventually consisted, were brought up by Rodbury in a be- fitting manner, and he was as happy as a man can. well! be. We close this history by telling how a friend of Mr. Ashwell, having been on a sporting tour out West, caded up- on that genueman on his return, and in the course of his narrative said: "While in California, whom do_ you suppose I came across? Why, Cy Laun- cestonl You remember him? A fellow down in Leicestershire, whom every- body expected would drop into penal servitude some day. even if he escapâ€" ed the gallows. VVell, there he is. quite an influential settler, and a most successful one. He has a great estate, and callls himself ltodbury. I understand his name is now legally this in the States. Anyhow. there he lives with his wife. Poor creature. she is blind; from the smallpox, I believe, and certainly I never saw any one more marked with it. However; in spite of this, she is a bright cheerful little woman. and seems to worship the very ground her husband walks on; at least so I heard from the neighbours. He has five of the finest children I ever sawâ€"three sons and two daughters. You should see them ride their'ponies! It took away my breathâ€"and I am a pretty fair hand across country, I flatter myselfâ€"to see some of the ground they went over! There he as I tell you. a re- gular Xankee citizen. and some day. for all I know. he will be in Congress. so high does his character stand. Only think! Cyrus Launceslon, of all per- sons in the world being presented as an embodiment of the moral. soeial. and in fact general virtues!" It was strange, no doubt. to one who, like the speaker, knew some of the antecedents of the person in ques- tion; but it is never too late to mend. (The End.) ........ ._ _. HAM BONES TO ORDER. iParisians are immensely fond of ham â€"-so much so that the number of ham:« eaten in Paris could not be furnished by all the pigs killed in France. The demand is supplied by buying up old ham bones and. ingeniously inserting! them into pieces of piclo'led pork. which are trimmed into shape, covered with grated bread-crusts and then sold for ham. In this way a bone does duty for hundreds of times. Sll‘ll, the supply of bones is limited. So a_man conceived the idea of manufacturing ham bones wholesale. and made a fortune from the sale of these artificial foundations. Now- adays. therefore, him: is plentiful in Paris. ONE OF THE DRA‘VBACKS. Now. Johnny, said Miss Spriggins, the schoolmistrcs‘s. as she poised the gad above the boy's back for amoment. I want you to remember that when I whip you. it is not because I enjoy be- stowing punishment on you, but because I honestly desire to do you good. Huh! ietorted Johnny Squanch. in the weary tone of a blase man of the- world; that is what ‘comcs of a fel~ lcr's allowin' ‘ woman to get dead stuck on hit HAi‘TDLING AND FEEDING. Few farmers realize how greatly cows can be improved by judicious handling and feeding. and how much depends on kind and gentle treatment. One of the most important things is regularity in feedings. The digestive appaiuius is a wonderful machine, and if we bear in mind that it must be supplied with the kind of nutrients needed for the elabâ€" oration of milk, and that if we compel it to work over a. lot of material which it cannot use in manufacturing milk. we hinder the maximum amount of milk secretion. In order that all the enerâ€" gy expended in digesting will 81300113" plish the best results we should care- fully study the nutriments contained in the ordinary food stuffs, and see that cows are not allowed to fill them selves with worthless material, such as straw and frosted corn stalks. Early cut and well cured corn stalks and fod- der corn are excellent feed if proper- ly balanced with grain. The food of bodily maintenance for cows is very easily supplied by a daily feed of from thirteen to eighteen pounds of stover or corn fodder, and if this is run through a. cutting machine and mixed with a grain ration, composed of bran. barley and oats, giving each cow as much as she will eat up clean, good re- sults can be secured if a few points are watched closely. Feed twice a. day at stated times. Commence feeding the ration when the cow is fresh, and if the cow comes in in the fall continue the same ration all winter, seeing that she is fed and milk- ed exactly at the same time every day. By this method the flow can be kept up all Winter. During warm days an hour’s outing in the yard while the barn or stable is being cleaned and aired Will be beneficial to the cows; but during cold weather cows will do bet- ter by being left in lihle barn. Cows should be provxded with fresh water at least once a. day during wintert. The water should be warmed if it is so cold that they cannot drink freely and feel comfortable. In short. they should be fied. Irregular milking causes well fed cows to lay on flesh. Dairy bred cows are more intelligent than ordinary stock, and on that account are not sat- isfied with the kind of treatment. that is measured out to natives. Tih'ey Will take offense at things which an ignor- ant scrub would be satisfied wihh‘. For this reason a. man who thinks that all these notions about balanced rations, comfortable quarters. kind treatment: and regularity are nonsense 'll'ld bet- ter not invest in good stock or ever breed to improved sires, for unless he is determined to adopt improved tncth'p ods. he will get little satisfaction out if lllle is willing to adopt better methâ€" ods and study the art of breeding and feeding stock in such! a. way that the largest measure of success is- assured, he will find that wellâ€"bred dairy stock is about the most profitable thing on the farm. Dairy sires can now be se- cured at very moderate figures, and by securing a good one now in a few years' time a. dairy ih'erd can be built up which will yield double the return that can be secured from natives or grade beef stock. FINISHING OFF BEEF CATTLE. Perhaps on general principles twelve to twenty-four months is long enough to keep a. bullock profitably. As the value of beef cattle of the same qua1~ ity varies considerably during each year, a. well-kept fleshy, yearling steer or heifer, will yield a. much larger amount of money to the owner at that age than the same would months after- ward. with: its increased growth, says \V. T. Taylor. Hence the advantage of keeping stock all the time in condition, ready to take advantage of these varying circumâ€" stances. This cannot be done if we. at- tempt to follow the ancient custom of growing before fattening and finishâ€" ing our cattle. for the market. Rich and strong grain need not necessarily be fed in‘quantities that would be de- trimental to later growthl, should we decide to carry our cattle beyond the twoâ€"year limit, and at the same time enough can be fed to have them ready and desirable to the slaughterer and perfectly satisfactory to the consumer. When the market price and other cir- cumstances demand longer fcedingmare- ful and judicious precautions in select- ing stock will insure a. continuud growth and improvement. lo repay all the food and care we bcslow, although we may safely (:ilculite that less again, as a rule, Will come as a router age is attained. Bill as an of set to this loss, there is generally a betlcr'demzind and advanced price for the more matur- ed bullovk, than there is for one of less ago and feeling. The final effort in fattening for the market need or ought not to occupy a great longili of time. If the bullock has had such attention as to insure the proper and steady development we are seeking, and such condition of flesh . has been-secured as to be in fair shape for the butcher at any time. and an additional season of fattening is desir- ed. one hundred to one hundred and fifty days is long enough. . Give during this time, or as soon during this per- iod as we have brought our cattle safe.- ly to the point. all the grain of any kind that is available that they will con- sume. and pasture or other similar feed with: the grain. The best plan in my experience. when full feeding, is to place the gmin in al suitable position and allow constant ac- cess to it. This lan requires loss la- bor. and the for is then partake-n at such times as the appetite demands it. in such quantity as nature indicates. Minute details ofany particul‘ir ino-llxid or fancy Scheme of {ceding l have pur- pnguly avoided. for breeder must supply them by intelligent attention. i‘:.'l‘r:t' animal disposed of in a thin- fl‘::l:-_-Li condition is at a loss to the \ kets. ‘ A warm convenient " barn basement." made perfectly comfortable and sate of improved stock. On the other hand. ' - _. _, “Ml producer, while by well~managnd won! tn increasing growth and. quality .it would insun- atrrofit. Then lherewtll be an evener istributiou of _fal. and a great improvement in quality. LIVE STOCK NOTES. Whatever trade you cater to. put your butter in nest, clean packages. The " best cow " must be one that. will properly assimilate and convert her food into milk. Beans make good feed for bugs rind horned cattle. They should be ground before feeding. Many dairymen have succeeded in getâ€" ting their herds up to an average of 300 pounds of butter per cow per year. All should strive for it. ' Careful analyses and digestion taste mode at the Massachusetts State Ex- periment Station have failed to note any material difference in the feeding value of selected spring and winter wheat bran. Look out. for those commission firms that. solicit no consignments of butter. cheese and other farm products offer- ing a price above the market. They often prove to be frauds that fail to make any returns rather than bigger ones. Cows must be examined as to their individual qualifications. It is not al- ways the heaviest milkcr that is the most valuable. ’l'iheie is n inlrked dif- ferencc in the amount of milk and but- ter different cows will make from 100 pounds of food. In the creamerics of Australia New Zealand it is the general rule to heat the milk before separating to from 160 to 180 degrees. ’l‘lns is practically! Lpasteurizing both the cream and the skim milk before skimming and may be one reason why Australian butter is so satisfactory to the English mar- and furnished with water, and an adjoin- ing silo. and containing one thousand bushels of beets and mangolds, some for every animal on bhu farm, except the dog and cat, and not. even exclud- ing the chickens, “will make a cow laugh in winter," as my grandfather used to say in regard to the wisp _of buy his hand-rake would glean while crossing the. hay-field. And if chord of cattle laugih often you may be sure they will grow fat. DISHEARTENED. Why Bargains “1ch Ccaiscd lo Allure This Gentleman. “ No," remarked Mr. \Vadkin. with a meditative, farâ€"away look, “ I shall nev- er try to get another bargain. If any bargains come into our household here- after they'll have to be piloted in by Mrs. \Vadkin.” " What have you been buying l" in- quired the friend, who makes it part .of his business to listen to Mr. \Vad- kin’s troubles. “A bicycle. My wife told me once that Ialwnys bought the first thing I saw. So when I circulated the report among my friends that I was willing to take any chances on a purchase in that line, I resolved ‘lo show my wife that l was not the target for design- ui. avarice which she had pictured me. When a man came ut me and offered me a bicycle for $40 I said to myself, ‘Whnttever you do. don't hurry.‘ " "Forty dollars was a very low price for a. wheel." “ That's what I thought. But I hung back and told him I wanted a better article than that. and finally he went away without closing the tlunsaction. and I felt proud of myself." " You ‘had shown your ability to with- stand importunity." “Exactly. in two or lih'rce hours an- otlher man with a bicycle come to see me. He had a machine that he said he would sell for $45. I told him I had one of the same make offered to me for $40. 'Well.’ he said. ‘1'” take $443 1 was obduru’c. He came down to 843. then to $42, and when he struck 841 he said he wouldn't dmp another cent, so 1 took the bicycle and paid him the money. Then 1 told him about the man who had tried to sell me an old wreck for $10. He looked surprised, and said: ‘ That must havu been my brother. He told me this morning he had tried to sell this wheel to a man who seemed to think it was too (llll'a'lp and he told. me to try my hand at it and keep uny- thing I could get more than $40!” 0 MONTHS TO 3 Yl‘lAl'tS. but the tenderer age predominates. Sometimes it llibppcnu that cliildron’ beyond the customary age sock par- ants and hope for would-bu parcan to incek them. For instance, the mother I of two little boys. 8 and 5 years old rcâ€" lspcctivcly, recently wrote to Mr. Sir-ad asking him to find a illllnl' for her cliil- drcn. The death of her husband had left li-er almost. destitute. 'l‘licsc two litllc fellows are grandsons of one of the best-known Judgvm of India. As a rule. the unmet-Annie of a child are not revealed. owing to the fact that inno- cence would frequently be forced to suf- for for the guilt of others. Sui-h iii- 'stancea as 1.1:: one quolcd are by no int-ans rare. for in England. :13 in no other country, it is the (mac that good blood and povcrly nfiun dwell logothl- er. \Vhile it is not always the raw. and.- ’ perhaps, not in the majority of instmima ithat a baby is sold as if it were an .infantilc specimen of the pug dog. it lis tmc. that it not infrequently hap- lpcns that a mother roman/cs a cash 'consideration for parting with her lit- tle one. Generally. it occurs that per- sons who are desirous of procuring ready made children are pl/Pllllfllll)’ supplied with this world's goods. Therefore, it is quite natural that they should of- lfr-r no objection to, and gum-rallypre- ifor. giving a reasonable couipvns'ition -to Ill“ lorn mother. It Sflfl'flzllf‘llf‘fl happens. hum-var, ilmt lthe foster parents reverse this order of [things and. after Selecting a dvsiribIe .younirstcr, inquin- how much they are zto be paid for_tak:ng it. This class of persons are fro.s‘iio‘.'l upon by Mr. (Stead. as be has formally nolifiml llwm 'llirit their prev-no". at the bully mar- lkvt is not desired. and will ln-prmnpb- ‘lv dispensed with. if avoidable in an other way. 0‘ -. r...â€" ._ n-w._~.r w.~-maâ€" mm ...._..._....n ....m _, __., , o. n .t . -... . =3” wax: is. .z