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It was the 5th day of N ovemherâ€"“Guy Fawkes’ Day” in the old almanac that hung above the mantel in maternal grand- mother’s long disused room upstairs. In this northern home to which we had re- cently removed, falling heirs :to it through that very ancestress’ will, the dwellers re- garded November rather as a winter than an autumn month, and today the wind howled and the rain pattered with a per- sistence marvelous to hear. And, as it happened, I was all alone in the house. Father had gone to take his russet apples to marketâ€"the apples that I myself had helped to harvest and pack in the barrelsâ€"and was not expected home until to-morrow night at ‘the earliest. Jack, my brother, was in Montreal fitting up the law ofice which was henceforth to be his abode. Jean, our hard-featured, Bu; i}; Ehswer to my query Peter only uttered an indistinct remark and went out, slspnming pm; door @ehind him. “Trouble, Peter. 9 What. kind of trouble. 9 Is the old man sick. 9” cross-grained old servant, had. gone home with the “rheumatics,” as she termed it, to be treated by a certain ancient Indian herb doctor, and just at duskfall Peeer, our “useful man.” had thrust. his shock head unceremoniously into the door; “I say, Miss Ruth,” he had said, “there’s glenty of wood, and everything’s all snug or the night and I’m going over to Stepjieneon’s.“ They are in trouble there.” A uvv‘ 1 PA 7,,‘L1_o I stood in front of the fire looking down at the glowing embers and pondering with- in myself. The Stephensons, who lived in an old gray-stone house on the other side of the precipitous glen, had always been a rid- dle to me. The family was small, consisting of only a crabbed old man, his portentously silent wife and two tall, ungainly sons ; and what on earth they did with all the big, echoing rooms or how they contrived to live, perched like eaglets on the side of the rock, I could not form the least idea. “City boarders,” Peter had once grunted out in answer to my persistent interroga- tions. But if they kept city boarders, why did they not leave these dreary mountain fast- nmes when the leaves fell and the dismal autumn fogs gathered above the cliffs? Al- together, there was a. certain atmosphere of mystery about these “Stephensons” that aroused all the Evelike instincts in my nature. While I stood thinking, a. soft tap sound- ed at the door. I opened it at once, never once remembering that I was alone in the house. “Ye never oughter do that Miss Ruth,” said the well-known accents of Mrs. Gludge, Farmer Gludge’s buxom wife. “Do what, Mrs. Gludge '3” “Open the door after dark, when you’re alone in the house, without asking who’s there.” “I’m not so certain 0’ that,” said the farmer’s wifh. “Your folks hadn’t. lived here aslong as I have. We're just nigh enough to the Canada. line to have queer characters prowlin’ about. when ye least, ex- pect ’em. And then, there’s Stephensons.” “How did you know that I was alone in the house?” “I just met Peter goin’ to Stephenson‘s.” “Oh !” said I. “But we don’t. have tren_1_ps here.” - “What of Stephehson’s ‘2" I died eager- ly. “Who is Stephenson, any way? Do tell me,__Mx;s. _Glt}dge._’_’ you 2" “They have told me nothing.” “Well, it’s likely they didn’t want to scare you or make you nervous,” said Mrs. Gludge. “But. all the same, 1 think you ought. to know.” “Wen, I declafia!” said Mrs. Gludge. “Is ig possible, now, that. they hain’t told “It’s a private home,” said Mrs. Gludge, lowering her voice to a. whisper, as though the raindrops and the rustling fir boughs could overhear. “A what. '2” I gasped. “For people of feeble mind,” explained the woman, “and lunies,” tapping her fore- head as she spoke. I stared at her. “Then,” cried I, “that’s What Peter meant when he said thatâ€"that. ” “One of the poor creatures has somehow given ’em the slip,” said Mrs. Uludge ; “an English gentleman from Montreal, as has only been there a few days. Nobody knows just how it happened, but happen it did. My man has gone over with a. lantern to help hunt for him, and so has Peter.” ‘V‘Mrs. Gludge,” I cried, seizing her arm “what is it? Do tell me 2” “But you have come to stay with me Mrs;_Gludge ?’j “Bless your heart, Miss Ruth, no ? I’m on the way to carry a letter to Mr. Rom- ney’s up the roadâ€"a very important letter, with ‘in haste’ writ on it." In addition to her duties as a. farmer's wife, and mother of a large family of little children, Mrs. Gludge helped her husband in the care of the obscure little country postofiice a. mile down the road. “Andâ€"by the way, I’d nearly forgot itâ€"I’ve got a. letter for you, too. That’s what brought me here.” “For me, Mrs. Gludge '3” Instinctively I put out my hand to grasp the treasure, while the woman fumbled first in one and then in another of her pockets. “Hé might. have told me!” I exclaimed indignantly. 7 7 “AnywaIy, I don‘t. think he ought to have left you here alone,” said Mrs. Gludge, se- vere_ly. _ “It’s very strange,” said she. “I made sure I had it. I did have it when I "started away from home but now I remember. Just at the foot of Gibbs’ cliff I took out my handkerchief to tie around my neck, the Wind came so keen around the rocks, and I must a-pulled it out with that, and everything too pitch dark to see. Oh, Miss Ruth, I am so sorry ! Please don’t report me, there’s a good young lady, or I shall los_e my place !”_ fully; hit. all. thésgme. I wish Iihadn’t “Report you, Mrs. GTudge !” said I. “Certainly not. It wasn’t. your fault. If you hadn’t kindly thought of me and start- ed to bring it to me on your way to Rom- ney’s, you would never have lost it.” I sw'all-owed down a. great lump of dis- comfiture and triegl _to 11}th Over the threshhold of her ’teens, Out of the green and golden Childhood period that intervenes, She steps to the riper olden. Over the threshhold of her ’teens, Out of that sweeter, softer Youth, that we all must lose, she leaves, And made to the flowers that greet her. Over the threshhold of her ’teens, Into the richer, wider Field of woman, she walks and gleams, With courage and hope beside her. ?‘Anâ€"d quiteiflfpe, said M33. G_lud_ge_, r_ue_- 0n iorEentieth Birthday. MY DILEMMA. oeen so area'dfufl'y manganese). I’ll“ send the boys out to search for itâ€"'â€"â€"” “Oh, never mind the letter,” I interrupt. ed, “I dare say it’s only from Jack. To- morrow will do well enough for that. But. Mrs. Gludge. you will come back and stay with me. till Peter gets back ‘3 Jean is away. you know, and ” “les, my dear, I'll do that,” assented the woman, evidently releived to be let 03 so easily on the score of the letter. “And it Won’t belong first. “It’s only a. short half-mile to Romney’s, if the wind didn’t blow so like allpossessed to night“? Witâ€".1; gébod-Humored nod s‘n-e disappear- ed into the rain and darkness, and I ran back to_pile_fresh logs 99 the waning fire. Bank burglars, extradited wanderevm, a lunatic at large, with all these possibilities whirling in my brain, it is not strange that I lighted a. second lamp in order effec- tually to banish all lurking shadows in the angles of the room, and started nervously when a. sudden blast of wind shook the window shutters as if with some imperious hand. “I’ll go to the garret and bring down some hutternuts,” thought I. “and then I’ll get some cider from the cellar. It will be fun to crack the butternuts and watch the shells blaze in the fire; and Mrs. Gludge will like a. drink of cider when she comes back all wet and chilled.” Cheered by this happy thought, I caught up a. lamp and flew to the garret- of the roomy house where my father had bestowed all the treasures of the nutty autumn woods. Somehow Priscilla, the cat, had got locked into the garret, and 1 had to release her from durance vile, and replace a. box or two, which she had knocked 05 from the window sill, beforevI came down, driving her cat- ship before me, with the lamp in one hand and an apronful of butternuts in the other. Through the open keeping-room door a ray of ruddy light streamed into the Cimmerian darkness of the hall. I stopped abruptly. Surely I had closed that door when I came out, remembering a certain trick it had of slamming to and fro in windy weather like this. And at the same time a curious con- sciousness of some human presence near by crept over me like an unseen magnetic cur- rent. Nor was it a. false premonition. As I stretched my neck to peep curiously into the room I saw seated before the fire a. youngish gentleman, pale, black-haired, and, as I thought, rather unsettled of aspect. And a. decidedly wet and mud-bespattered gentleman he was, his raiment. steaming in the glorious blaze and crackle of the pine logs, as he sat there holding out his hands to_t_he genial warmth. A 7" 1T Howohad he gained an entrance? Had I carelessly neglected to bolt the big door after Mrs. Gludge’s departure? Yes. I must have done soâ€"and that was proof of how utterly unfit I was to be left by my- self. F or a. second I stood there quailing and quaking, my heart thumping like a. trip-hammer and a. cold sweat breaking out upon my forehead before I decided what to I had never seen a. bank burglar, to be sure, but I was pretty certain this black- haired gentleman could not belong to that race. And I did not think he acted like any other scoundrel who was fleeing from the rigors of the law. He must be the English gentleman gone wrong in his head, who had “escaped" from the Stephenson’s. This, however. must be faced ; there was no remedy for it and with ene blind rush I precipitated myself throu h the room, tumbling over the cat 2mg scattering a. shower of butternuts as I went and darted headlong through the door, with an in- voluntary shriek that might have rent the ceiling, if ceilings were rent in that .way, except in the pages of romance. I was alone in the house with a. maniac. And at the idea. my heart. beat more vio- lently than ever and the cold drops grew colder on my brow. With a. sudden instinct I decided that there was nothing for it but flight. The worst feature of the case was that I could not get out of the house (be it remembered that Peter had taken away the key of the back kitchen door in his pocket) without passing directly through the room where the escaped lunatic sat basking before the fire. ‘ “Halloo 3” ba'wled Jack, staggering under the blow of my very unexpected appear- ance. “Whyâ€"what. theâ€"I declare if it isn’t Ruthie !” “Oh Jack, oh Jack E” I screamed, clutch- ing at. him like the drowning man at the proverbial straw: Directly into the arms ofâ€"Jack, my own brother J ack. who was coming in from the van with a. light valise in one hand and a. dripping carriage robe in the other. ‘ “Where are all the folks? What has be- come of the stable keys? What have you done with Carleton? ’ he demanded. But I paid no heed to his interrogatories. “Come, Jack,” I cried, “come quickly. The escaped lunatic; he’s right here in the keeping-room ! Oh, Jack, I do hope you’ve got your revolver.” - “What. 1" roared Jack, “an escaped lun- atic? Where the deuce has he come from? Has he hurt Carleton ‘2” He madea. spring toward the keeping- room, in whose door stood the tall, pale man, straining his eyes out _into the night. “\Vhere is he '2" shouted Jack. “Where’s who?” said the escaped lunatic, in a. pleasant, slightly drawling voice. “It wasn’t a. he ! It was a she ! And she clear- ed the floor in a. single bound, andâ€"Oh, I’m sure I beg a. thousand pardons,” as he caught sight of me. “But please, what is the matter?” In a second my mental vision became as clear as crystal. I saw it all, and I envied Priscilla, the cat, because I could not van- ish under the china cupboard as she did, and be gone. I could only blush and hang my head, and stammer out incoherent apol- ogies amid the laughter of Jack and the po- lite apologies of the friend whom he had un- expectedly brought from Montreal with him, and whose coming had been announc- ed, as it seemed, by the very letter Mrs. Gludge had lost. That’ s all. There s no sequel to my story. In real life I have found that stories seldom do have sequels. I had had a dreadful fright, and they all laughed at me at first, and made excuses for me and petted me afterward and said,“Poor little Ruth.” Father declared that he would never risk such a. thing again, and. discharged Peter on the spotâ€"but Peter came back to his work the next day, just as usual, and he is here still. Mr. Carleton was very nice and apol- ogetic for coming in without knocking to dry himself while Jack was leading the horse to the barn, but he has not yet fallen in love with me, as an orthodox hero ought to do. The genuine escaped lunatic was captur- ed near Stephenson’s and taken to Mont- real, under the impression that he was the governor general going to take possession of his vice regency. And just half an hour: after we had settled to the cracking of 193%ng 99d grinkiqg sweetcider that 1 THE WATCHMAN, LINDSAY, THURSDAY, JUNE 22, I892. ' «If you 1316880; miss, I": borne to k“? Jon ”MEL lugl‘fl, a merrygrou , a. se 111011131 knack- ing sounded at the 'oor an Mrs. Gludge’s voi_c_9_was hgard proclaiming : There was a. statue (nly common clay. Thagin the sunshine stood, one summer’s 35' And for one brief climbing hour, I‘m told, Becauslel. the sun shone so, seemed finest go There was a hero, hero but to one, Who had his gilded hour, ’neath Love’s sun, And then, ah me, the sunshine died away, A left the hero, dull, bare, common clay. L’ENVOI. Are you the hero or are on the sun ? One word. mon ami, an my fable’s done. If you must blame, be just and blame the ’a’ grown {o'such a. woman? ‘1T\__)a. SALLgâ€" 9) O-LA ‘vnnn “'Lhere she comes, as pretty as a. picter. I say, boy, who'd a.’ thought, that weak little thing poor_ Niece Sally“ left us could v- â€"-°__ - - _,, Daniel Homer cast a. quick, apprehensive glahce at. his son and bent. closer no his work, a. Mt of harness he was mending. There was a. light step on the flags, 8. flut- ter of many wings and a. confusion of chicken calls, for whenever Trudy appear- ed the chickens flew to meet her. .. ‘?13;£’â€"t.,‘faik;éf,” the yomig man address- ed responded. “I can‘t bear to think of her as a. woman yet. She’s only just turn- ed_eigh {cg}, anyway.” 1, ._ _____ “Take care, old Whitey, I must step on you if you get right under my feet. There, there, Blacky, get off my shoulder; you’ll tear my frock. Shoo, shoo,”a.nd driving them before her with her wide-brimmed hat, Trudy reached the open door. It was a trim little figure, bending over the threshold with a laughing demand for corn for the chickens. Both men rose to obey her, but the elder was hastily recall- cd by Trudy’s imperative “No, no, Uncle Daniel, I’d be ashamed to make you wait on me, but if Adam willâ€"You see I don’t want to come in for the corn, the hens would be so disappointed, thinking they’re to have none at all. I wouldn’t like to disappoint one of these dear chicks even for a minute, would you, Uncle Daniel 2” The old man answered her with a smile, his thoughts upon her more than the chickens. “The Halls are going to take boarders this summer,” Trudy began, throwing her last handful of corn to the chickens. “ I wish we could, Uncle Daniel, then per- haps we could et the books Adam wants. I’m sure could do it. I can do alot now, can’t I, Adam '3” and Trudy looked appealingly at the younger man. “There’s the spare chamber, you know, that would eccommodate two nicely, and Mrs. Hall said two men wanted to come, but her room: are all taken. Don’t you think, Uncle Daniel, I might try, just try? It would be so nice to have the books next winter.” Evidently Uncle Daniel did not. know what. to think. Divided between his aver- sionto having strangers around, and his desire to gratify Trudy, he could not de- cide at. once. "Ewell, well, child, we’ll think on’tâ€" peshaps, WM?” A , Even this half concession put wings to Trudy’s feet. She flew upstairs to her chamber, from which she descended like a gust of summer wind, to lay the table for supper. A flutter of blue gingham, a trill of bird song, a scurry of light feet, and supper was ready. The low sun shone straight in at the tiny-paned window and lay in long, golden pools on the white floor and upon the great brown loaf on Trudy’s table. The pale blossoms of the creeper swung in and out of the casement, and cast their shadows across the yellow cream on the big pan of milk awaiting Trudy’s ladle. There were luscious raspberries, too, and cheese as yellow and creamy as the milk. N o more was said about board- ers until, when the old clock had wheezed out the hour of bed time, Trudy put her arms around Uncle Daniel’s neck, and said, “Mayn’t I '2” and Uncle Daniel said, “I_gu_ess so,” and so it was settled. I P In less than a. fortnight, a full supply of pipes and fishing tackle and guns and boot- jacks,â€"O, I forgot, and two young men were established in the spare chamber. You and I might envy them that spare chamber, for daintier, cozier quarters never were seen. Whether it was the high bed with its lav- ender scented sheets, or the yellow painted floor with drawn and braided rugs, or the chintz-covered armchairs, which down of generations of chickens had made veritable beds of ease, I cannot say, but it looked coziness itself. A leaf was put in the little square table and dear, departed Aunt Han- nah’s best mulberry set was brought out and put on the dresser ready for use. Aunt Prime, the neighborhood’s aunt, was sent for to “help ’round.” Such an amount of baking Trudy had to do? The young men came hungry and stayed hungry. Who could help it with the scent of new-mown hay blowing across their faces, and heaps of feathery biscuits steaming under their nostrils, with such butter! and such honey ! V‘V‘We’never eat hot, Bread,” one of the gentlemen said. breaking a. biscuit, at the sam_e_time gazing _at. Trudy. m 1 r. “He ate ten of ’em, he did,” Trudy after- ward whispered to Adam, adding with a. sigh, “I’m afraid we shan’t have much left for books.” But Trudy kept on baking, and the young men helped the hay makers and caught fish â€"â€"-of the fishermenâ€"and Adam, poor fel- low, grew shier and homelier than ever, I do believe. Perhaps Trudy thought so, too, for she often watched him. - The haying was not the biithe work it had been when Trudy raked after the cart, and they all trooped home together for their bread and milk. Handsome Jack Darrow raked in her place, and he was off half the time helping Trudy about one thing and another. For Trudy had straw- berries to pick and Jack must carry the basket, or there were custards to make and J ask rngst beat the eggs. -1 l‘ ‘IAI‘ So Adam saw but; llfile of herâ€"the little Trudy whom he had carried until she, a. wakeful, crying babe, had fallen asleep, never heeding the ache in his arms ; the little Trudy to whom he had given his first, boyish purchase, a red and white calf ; the same little Trudy who had always had her pretty frocks whether Adam had a new great-coat or notâ€"Adam managed that. We couldn’t tell how it was, but: there seem- ed to have come miles between him and Trudy. 7..-. _ - .. . v. What a long, hot summer it was ! It seemed to Adam as if the sun was scorching his heart as it scorched the stubble in the field With feverish impatience he waited for the borders to finish their vacation and depart. The first .of September saw them 93.42112 ism-resume: ms..emnty once LEAP YEAR STORY. The Statue. mores“tne bfg‘mfié' mi‘de 'Iitfle again, the mulberry set carried back to the parlor closet and Aunt Prime went somewhere else to :‘he_lp ’rounfi.” ‘ ' . v 1 ,uJL L-- vv nav- Trad; was tired, but as pleased with her small pot of money as any miser. When would Adam buy his books? But. Adam wouldn’t, buy them at all, and told Trudy to put. away t_he qu‘xgyâ€"he @idn’t want; it. _--..-.='.... .. v- - Just after Ne; Year Mr. Darrow walked in upon themâ€"he wanted to see Uncle Daniel. After a. while Trudy was called and Adam stood by th\ fire with his back to the “Mr. Darrow has come to ask for our Trudy,” Uncle Daniel began, his voice trembling over the words. “What has she to say to him '2” he added, seeing Trudy’s distress. The pretty pink in her cheeks had vanished and her brown eyes were full of trouble. to put. away we moneyâ€"w: mun I. want; u. and Trudy, who said he was just as cross as he could be, and had been horrid all sum- mer, very unlike her usual chirrupy self, burst out, a-crying. So all things consider- ed, it was not so very pleasant, for all the stxlangers were gone. it “,,,_-___._,II,_:I rest. Mr. Darrow started forward as if to urge his suit, but Trudy stopped him with “0, don’t, don’t, Mr. Darrow ! I’m very sorry, but; Iâ€"can’t.” â€"‘_‘\_Vh$’:7I‘â€"z:udy,” began Uncle Daniel. but Mr. Darrow interrupted him, “You will at. least tell me the reason, Trudy.” ‘ “Becauseâ€"because I’m going to marry Adam.” The tall form at the fireside swun ’round as if electrified. There was a. uh of blue merino and white apron and Trudy’s blushing face looked out from Adam’s arms. , It. inust be confessed that Uncle Daniel beamed with delight, but poor Mr. Darrow Was as black as a. thunder cloud. ”Stop, stop,” burst in Trudy, “he didn’t know a thing about it,” adding with a. sparkle of mischief in her eyes, “and I don’t know as he ever would if you hadn’t fright- ened me into telling hjm._” “Adam Homer, you’ve served me a meanâ€"” And then, her gentle heart pitying the disappointment of her would-be lover, she added with the prettiest little air of explain- ing matters, “You see, Mr. Darrow. 'I’ve always belonged to Adamâ€"really ; but I was ’most sure I should have to do the pro- posing, he’s that bashful. Do you think it so very bad of me 2 It's leap year, you know.”â€"-Eliza.beth Eddy Norris. How full of yearning love and tenderness Tha§,_spoken, might have served to cheer and bless, Now haunted with the grief of vague re- grets, Like faint, sad tones, when low winds sweep said 1 They come to us within the late, wan night, Like troubled spirits seeking out sweet rest ; Ami, though we would admit them to our the fréts Of some old instrument, these words un- ed to beat .; The ears are deaf. though wildly we entreat. Oh I coulq they hear them nowâ€"the words breast, They _f_ail to give us peace, as once they high, The h_eart_s they could have joyed have ceas- unsaid ! One word were worth a. thousand to the What is a Promise of Marriage ‘2 A judge at Leeds has decided that “a promise of marriage may be made by other ways than by wordsâ€"by a shake of the hand, for example, or a wink of the eye, or a thousand other modes.” A young woman had a drawing master who gave her every reason to believe that he loved herâ€"short of saying so. He wrote letters descanting on the “celestial joy” of those who can “pour out their souls to each other”; spoke of woman as “a helpmate for man, not a toy for an hour,” and frequently wrote “0, Jane!" After two years he broke 03 the acquaintance, and later wrote to the lady’s solicitors: “If you have a letter of mine wherein direct marriage is stated, irrespective of my position or her position, I am willing to see further, but you have not.” However, following the judge’s instructions, the jury gave the lady £100 damages. There are few things more amusing than to watch a. toad submitting to the opera- tion of a back-scratching. He will at first look somewhat suspiciously at the twig which you are advancing toward him. But after two or three passes down his back his manner undergoes a marked change; his eyes close with an expression of infinite rapture, he plants his feet wider apart and his body swells out to nearly double its orâ€" dinary size, as if to obtain by these means more room for enjoyment. Thus he will remain until you make some sudden move- ment which startles him, or until he has had as much petting as he wants, when, with a puff of regretful delight, he will re- duce himself to his usual dimensions and hop away, bent once more on the pleasures of the chaseâ€"Our Dumb Animals. The First Year of nIarx-ied Life. A woman should not take offence too easily, writes Christine 'lerhune Herrick in an interesting article on that most serious of questions in the June Ladies’ Home Journal. Often, indeed, the words or man- ner she resents were not ill-meant by her husband. Some men have a hasty, brutal- sounding fashion of speaking that tries and hurts a woman cruelly, and she should en- deavor, by all gentle means in her power, to break him of the habit, by representing to him, in his calmer moments, the pain he inflicts upon her. The man who loves his wife will usually try to break himself of any peculiarity that is distasteful to her; but she may rest assured she will not better him by continual harping upon the sore subject. To harmless and inoffensive idiosyncrasies the wife should shut her eyes. At the beginning of her married life let her make up her mind to one fact: that she cannot force her husband to resemble her in every par- ticular of thought and feeling. He will have his preferences and his distastes, and she need not expect to coerce or persuade him into conforming them to hers ; after all, he has a right to his own individuality, and she has no business to interfere with them. There will always be enough points of com- mon sympathy to form a. meeting ground, and upon matters of divergent opinion let them agree to disagree. A potent aid to a wife’s charity for her husband will be the reflection that, in all probability, her faults are quite as tr ing to her husband as his can be to her. If he takes his share in the en- deavor to preserve unity of feeling, there is ‘little doubt that in time the fermentation lWill work clearness. One Way to Gratlfy a Toad. The Words Unsaid. -Ha.rper’s Weekly. An Inside View Which Shows the Cold- Bloodedness of Diplomats. It. is impossible for the hand of the Ger- man Emporer to restrain the ill feeling of Italy toward Austria or to appease the irri- tation of Austria against. Italy. From time to time ’ incidents crop out. that. are more powerful than all wills. The gallery can- not help nofing with care the official de- 1 n __--___.....t- uvv .uvâ€"r _v , clarations of the interested Governments, and receiving instructive lessons from them. Certainly we must not exaggerate their im- portance, because by the side of the dissen- sions which arise between the allies there still remain the interests which unite them. Austria is not strong enough to resist the power of Russia. Germany, left to her own resources, dreads a conflict with France, and Italy finds in this alliance inex- haustible sources of gratification for her vanity. Therefore, in all robability the treaties which were renewe last year by the three courts will remain in force until the end of their term. , 'I-V -â€"â€" -_ V_e Consequently there is only one question to be discussed, and that is whether the re- sources of Italy can stand the strain. In- quire in the great financial world, and the answer without hesitation will be, no. Ask the Italians, from the king to the humblest subject, and they will say, yes; but with the understanding, or rather the hope, that in the meantime events will procure for Italy immense advantages in at least three French provinces and a gigantic war in- dengnity; . . e King Humbert has committed at least one very serious error : He believed in the political value of Crispi; and, more than that, upon his affirmations, corroborated by the German Ambassador at the Quirinal, Count von Solms, whose perspicacity is not precisely infallible, Bismarck dropped into the same illusion. The plan then was to make Crispi the provoker of an immediate war upon France, and with this view he was to put her patience to severe tests every other day. France saw the snare and was able to avoid it, and soon Crispi fell, leaving his country in the hopeless finan- cial distress which we are now_ witnessing. It is easy for any one to understand tfie question. ‘Vhen Italy entered into the triple alliance the counted upon war, but the war did not come, and now the ally of Austria and Germany staggers under crushing burdens. But is this all? No; for we must re- member that the treaty which binds Italy to Austria. and Germany is distinct from the one which links Austria to Germany. The first contains, on the part of the head of the house of Savoy, a. solemn renuncia- tion of Trieste and Trentia, and in its prac- tical conclusion it involved the visit of King Humbert to the Emperor of Austria, at Vienna, a visit which has never been re- turned ; and the whole business is com- leted by this last humiliation, which we find in the fact that the wretched sovereign is never invited to the interviews of the other two allies. Sometimes the Cabinet of Vienna give! rude shocks to his amenity. For instance, at the end of last month the Austrian court inaugurated with great pomp the statue of Radetzky, the conqueror of Novara, the man who for so long a. period held the north of Italy, or rather the house at Savoy, under his heel. What a singular alliance for Italy ! Im- agine England during the Anglo-French alliance at the time of the Crimean war making a holiday for the inauguration of a statue to Wellington ! If Austria and Italy live on such terms when they are united officially, how would it be if they were not united '2 The masters in diplomacy distinguish two sorts of alliances. The first have an im- mediate and direct aim written down in the treaty itself. Such was the alliance of France and England on the eve of the Crimean war, and such also was the alliance between France and Piodmont on the eve of the Italian war. These alliances come to an end when the object which they have in view is attained. Then each of the con- tracting powers regains its free liberty of action. The other kinds of alliances are not con- ceived in View of a precise object. Their character is rather defensive than offensive, and it the eventualities which they foresee are not realized, or if, on becoming realiz- ed, they do not destroy the original inter- est which united them, they can last inde- finitely. VVe are assured that the triple alliance is constructed upon this model, and that it must stand as long as Germany and Italy remain exposed to aggression on the part of France and as long as Austria fears her Russian neighbor. Nonsense I The time must come when the expenditures exacted by the accumulation of such im- mense military forces will destroy these fine combinations. Already one of the allies seems exhausted. Therefore the final settlement of the uestion of the triple al- liance must depen upon the financial re- sources of one side or the other.â€"Paris (France) Figaro. Cowboys’ Memories, “Of all men in the world not accounted prodigies I think the cowboy’s memory and intuition are the most marvellous,” said E. H. Cunningham of Indian Territory at the Laclede. “I have witnessed feats of memory per- formed by cowboys that appear propister- ous when related. For instance, I was on a drive from the Texas Panhandle to the Territory a few weeks ago with 7,000 cattle. Twelve men comprised my outfit. We had a couple of big stampedes, and after we got the frightened cattle rounded up how do you suppose we were able to tell how many were missing? You naturally think we went through the laborious task of cutting out and counting them, and that’s where you are mistaken. Every one of my twelve men was so thoroughly acquainted with the herd that either of them could, by getting on an elevation so as to geta clear sweep of the entire herd, tell exactly how many and the kind of stock we had missed in the round-up. Not only that, but he could pick out all the stray cattle that had got- mixed in our bunch, without seeing the brand. It is a. marvellous accomplishment, and one that is attained only after long ser- vice in they ‘bulI-punching’ business.”â€"St. Louis Globe-Democrat. Dying Confessions. In the book in which Mr. Berry, the famous cxecutioner ot England, describes his experiences, he says it has long been his habit to ask from a. condemned man or wo- man a private c'onfession for the relief of the executioner’s own feelings in order that he might feel sure that he was not hanging an innocent person. The confidence repos- ed in him at such moment, he says, he has never divulged, but he is at liberty to say that of all the people he has executed only two or three have died without full; and freely confessing their guilt to him. THE TRI’PEE’KLLIANCE. Dealer in Fresh and Salt Orders delivered to any part Of Cholera hp§CCTnxc 5, June 16.'â€"T;}f1 in the despatches or 1Telegrau; Congan “(151: the danger at a 19m in Euro‘pr‘ In}? aiiY more :Lh'Cx Ifzr vrc “ The nego‘umoxzs 'ng between the PM“ <‘1 'on to guard again. is if Accident Insurance. The London Guarantee 11 nd A surance Company of London Capital $1,250,000. Liberal poll every five years, $5 per annum I weekly compensation and 31 event of death by accxdent. regress, and ft) tall irlapoaxszzmf {MM :1 in the race. 1,“? I? n .\. at the C“. Jyfisuuwn Lake Ontario Steam Beginning MondayTAer “ZEN Cobourg at. S A 31., and P011 10.30 A.M., on arrival of OT} from North, East and West. RETURNINGâ€"o Leaves Chi 11.05 P.M.. except Tuesday 31‘ and Saturday a: 4.15 11.31. CK! Rochester with early trains for a.-vv--â€"~-v_ -7" on Lew York Central and aL lines. CALLS at Brighton 2an DAILY - FER - R 3r: ifonday'and \V’eiinesday Ma Rochester. and Wednesday Mi Saturday Evening from Rocha AT LOWEST CURRENT INTEREST PAYABLE ‘ Terms to suit berm "'_""' ' vv'v-v ""H"’ THE NORTH KING is ~ largest, swiftest and must pew mers on the lakes. Lighted by and modern throughout. people would be troubles were new bar. If exDenses w: Through Tickets and Bag; from Agents or on board. HIGH-GLASS P0 NORTH ‘ Orders filled as few" Stock are all prize birds,” HOUDANS. WHITE m PLYMOUTH 800 . F. GILDERSLEEYE Parties Waflw“ THOROUGH- -BRED P0 Amphlet of information at m of the Inn. mowing How Obi-An Patent... Csvnu. Hun. Copmhu. um udn- MUNN a CO. 361__Bro_adv_uu. ‘ . pp trade (3 Magnificent New Steam mx .e naturailv . C. TAYLOR: MGNEY _T_o UNI; match] . -.-.â€"-â€" 5th door east Otthe General Manager. KISGSIO PLYMOUTH ROCKS . NICHOLSON. ‘30 receipgs. . ble as m 3en. Pass. anaf; "mm +... ‘ 'ew VYork.’ Agent. Li s EVI,‘ ‘ phoe- ‘ rccc 'mfmuwgngfifluqb - A, y, and h} in v3 ““U k Ltkl k' not (533's an mcha‘ “ninth as a sunsha Mo receipts. If they {Mable as in courtshi] Ivonld try to be a. 5 art to each other. If e lthe other was 3 11111113.} 383. If each were as r‘5 when they were "Ed provisions were lai high tide of summer James remembered Iedfor worse as weli A '68 as thoughtful fot 3! Vere for their swed “We fewer silk and t m. and more plain, F54 If there were fef WEI! public and mi “5?!!! private. If mzi hills and feminine he turned into the QM times as they ‘ ii 'ithout risk. If that a Woman Cl I allfling who has u’. answer the door mm, and get rxd o ’hadmpped in, tend ‘, . '1 he possibil 1" five cents pel ; ms being maint: ‘Bl'n'me sou ething 0 [hr up all the old 4 mpous, June 16 â€" rn Miller saYS ”J "9 anner run: last “cc 0 barrelS, or 3.3 521 ‘02 :- 31.1891. For 1':€ c ilethat date. The} bemused miners to 11 ions 10 to 15 cents‘ Beet exports last ‘ ’hu'rels, against 65.3 “mg week. Minneapolis Flour be in 1 20. 63,6 fills were in o h_ qmd the? were . a. Ul » .» ~ 5,.LUUL the production “ ied PeOpIe Might 061‘ him up ‘ bung him here 7‘ [gr m not feeling1 EM!) cheering up mi s a better derr must be a dis 0 [mewst T0 L0 “IF: Wants wa: It mdemic . DEA