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KITTY’S "FATE.” \thn Miss Marjoribanks and Mr. \Vood- stock met the next morning. the young man showed no recollection of what had happen- ed : the dictatorial and indifferent air which had so often fretted poor Kitty’s soul teem- ed to have disappeared, and had given place to a very delicate and respectful kindliness of manner, which touched the wilful little thing in a way which Stephen could hardly fail to observe. Mrs. Marj oribanks, seeing Kitiy ’s blush and timid smile when Mr. Voodstock first spoke to her at. breakfast, began to be of ,.,_ AL I_ L _I_ -_. Mr. Dare was looking gloomy, and an- nounced his departure that day for London ; Dora’s bud of a mouth was more closely shut than ever; Charlie “'ynne had something of a. hang-dog air, but seemed to have acquired a new respect for the “ New Zea- land fellow,” “ith whom he presently went out ahooting_on_the most amica‘ble terms. . 3331;011â€" tfiet ihinzs were. at ~ham; shaping themselves as she herself meat desired. _ longer. ” 917: Angus had a few words with his cousin before he left. ' " Kitty," he said in his low legato voice, “I am going away without finishing the portrait, and I do not think I shall return until your year of probation is at an end. I cannot endure this state of things any v-'. " If you mean about Mr. Woodstock,” she said, coloring deeply, “ perhaps I ought to tell you that l have given it up. I have been behaving disgracefully. I don't mean to go on_acting _an untruth any longer.” -- ffriDhrré (rid not answer'imm‘édiately. He drew a little nearer, and bent low over the girlis drooping head: . _ .. ‘ '" quha'cdo you {n.ean 1’" a'sked Miss Mar jor_i})3nks cu‘ftly. ‘ , ,_,,,- ____E_AII-- _._-.J.-I “ Perhaps on are right.” he said then gently. “ L r. \Voodstock seems to be something of an original. There is no tell- ing what he may not do in order to play the hero in the eyes of us luckless fellows who are denied 1} like opportnnity_.” I. .v' ,- There was absolute silence on Miss \Iar- joribank’a part. _.A !~.__ J-__L-_ .1 u‘ 1": LI... ll Jv..~â€"â€"â€" â€" ‘ "7 “.Do not misunderstand me, Kitty," pleaded her cousin tenderly ; “and promise that you will not quite forget me while I am a_wa_y." - ,,A,,,,,‘I “ I mean ”â€"in the same carefully-modul- ated voiceâ€"“that it is quite on the cards that Mr. \Voodstock may say ‘No’; and it might be as well if you took that point into consideration before making your own final decision.” uâ€"â€" -3, -9”, “ I merely offer the suggestion. I do not venture to advise you. I feel ”â€"his musical voice sank to a. whis erâ€"“ that I am myself toggleeply integestf _ in jibe result.”_ “ I do not forget so easily, returned Kitty quietly. She thought, with a kind of wonder, that she could not even feel angry with this man whom she had once imagined that she loved. “ “'hen will you come back 2” she added. _ "‘T'figt is what you advise 2" asked Kittb'» curtl_y agaip. .. .u .o r 1, ,,AL “ On the day before the eventful twenty- fiith of October, I hope," replied Mr. Dare. “It is a long time to be banished from your presence, Kitty. Pity me for doing what I conceive to be my duty, rather than fulfil my heart’s desire." "Goodobye till October," said Kitty, ris- ing, as he showed no intention of ending the interview. A She held out her hand, which Angus seiz- ed. For an instant, it seemed as if he would repeat the piece of audacity of which he had once before been guilty ; but Kitty, drawing herself up, looking him steadily in the eyes without saying a word, and he had the giace to change color es he'took‘his leave. "Kitt udrew along breath when the door closed ehind her cousin. A v 7“I shall not feel wicked any longer when he is gone,” she thought wistfully. “ I was ashgmeq to be_ googl while he was hora? The time that followed was, in spite of many secret doubts and pains, an extremely happy one to Kitty Marjoribanks. Nervous- ly she counted the months as they flew by, wishing vainly that she could hold them back, that uncle Jasper’s will had said five years instead of one, that there need never be any ugly question of money to break in upon the charm of their pleasant life at Southlands. And yet Stephen had not given her the faintest reason for supposing that he cared for her as she cared for him ; for she did care for himâ€"Kitty knew that now beyond all shadow of doubtâ€"not with the feverish fanc . born of llattered vanity and vague ehih ish yearnings, which she had felt dur- ing the space of a few mohths for her cousin Angus, but with a love that was so deep and steadfast and strong as to cause her more pain by far than leasureâ€"the love that a woman feels for t in man whom the knows to be. and is proud to acknowledge as, her master in all things. Time was flfving. Winter was over, and spring with al its dancing dafl‘odils gsnmmer with its roses was burning itself slowly away ; autumn was at hand, and in October the decisive word must be spoken between Ste hen Woodstock and Kitty Marjoribanks. B r. Woodstock’s manner remained as quietly inscrutable as ever. Even to Mrs. )Iarjoribanks, for whom he had conceived a special regard. he gave no hint of his inten- tions. His decision, it was evident. would not be made known until it was delivered into the hands of the lawyers on the day appointed for that ceremony. . Lady mine. ’Tis thy lover who calls on thy name. Lady mine. “'itli the sunset the water's aflame There’s no guard to keep watch on the gate. For thee doth my gondola wait ; Let us flout with t e tlde to the deep; On a cradle of waves shalt thou sleep. Come away. For the sunset is dying space ; Come away For here by my side is thy place. As we tloat And the twilight grows ever more gray. As we tioat ’Mid the beautiful death of the day. 'l‘here’s a light that I see in thine eyes. Like to that of the morn that shall rise. “'hen saielr all danger we’ve passed. And I call t 100 mine own one at last. Row apace. For the moonlight shines taint on the tide; llow apace. For the morning must break on my bride. â€" Temple Bar. Iitty did not look up from her embroid- CHAPTER VI. A Serenade. .â€"â€"-¢.'â€"v The nearer the day drew. the paler grew poor little Kitty, and the more brightly her velvet-dark eyes blazed with the fever of ' her suspense and secret pain. . They had the house all to themselves just 1 then. it had been agreed that at the last ‘ the presence of strangers would be embar- rassing. But Angus Dare, being a cousin. did not count of course ; and, on the evening belore the decisive day. he appeared, accord ing to his promise, very much sunburnt from his sketching tour in Spain, and laden with black lace mantillas and fans for Kitty and Dora. Poor Kitty's peachy cheeks were as white as her dress all that long last evening. Angus succeeded in appropriating her the greater rt of the time. It was natural that he s ould have a rest deal to tell her about his travels, and e seemed to prefer telling it in a low voice. Kitty had hardly heard a word of all his poeticaldescriptions. She was counting with terror the few hours that remained efore her answer must be given. ‘0‘ . ,L a- Grant”... n...“ :0 “you Ivuun She did not speak to Stephen until it was time to say “Good night ;" null then, as he brought her candle and lighted it for her, she lifted her great velvet-dark eyes to the young man’s face, and he saw that they were full of tears. “ You are not ill 1‘" he asked gently. ‘ ‘No," answered Kitty in a very tremulous little voice. “ Only tired and a little over-wrought?" “'ell ”â€"3miliug kindlyâ€"“ the trial will soon be over ! Courage !‘_' uvvun nu v.- .“_.a, , “You will be very glad," (altered the girl, bravely controlling herself; “nml no wonder! I am ashamed when I remember what an ungrocious welcome you received at Southlautls a year ago fromâ€"from some of us." v. u. “I have forgotten all about that,” answer- ed Stephen simply. “I have been too en- tirely happy here since then to be able to remember it. But even the happiest years must come to an end, you know, Miss Mar- jonbanks.” . . -- . u uvuLA I~S_LI_. n 1‘ --.......L“. slut-unw- J “ Yes, " said Kitty faintly. “ I wonder where \\ 6 shall both be this time next year. 9” “ “'here, indeed !" echoed the young man, smiling gran ely. “ \V 0 shall be better able A .’ I--I_ LA IE'EESsE’Ei'fiiat after twelve o’clock to- morrow. " Punctually at twelve the next day, old Mr. Smylie, the lawyer, was in the library with his papers. As Kitty came in, hold- ing her mother’s hand and hanging her head, Stephen was irresistibly reminded of the first time he had seen her. \Vas it indeed a year ago? It seemed only like yesterday. He went forward and held out. his hand. “\\'e are better friends to-day than we were twelve months ago,” he said, a little unwanted emotion softening his voice “ Do you remember how you flashed scorn at me out of your eyes, and how all your pretty hair was; fallingpver your shoulders ?" 71'- Wfiitty’s palezneeks' began to glow. His kindness sent a little unexpected thrill of happiness through her heart. “ I was a. very rude and selfish girl,” she said, locking down. "It is you who have made me try to [36 better.” v. .u.7 "And you beliew now, I ho e, that. I would not willingly mar )our appiness, Miss Marj oribanks. "’ " Iâ€"I don’t know 1" {altered poor Kitty. “ I believe that you are always very kind; butâ€"” Oh, what could she say? u Angus Dare was watching their. He ex- chan ed a somewhat startled glance with Miss etley. But already Stephen. having given Kitty a chair, had left her side and taken his place at the opposite side of the table, where pen and ink awaited him, and the two formsâ€"one of acceptance, one of refusalâ€"between which he had so soon to make his choice. It seemed a very simple ceremony to decide the fate of two young lives. merely the signing and witnessing of one of those papers. Kitty’s hands trembled as she slowly unfolded both of hers and read them through from beginning to end. Mr. \Voodo stool: looked as coolly imperturbable as usua . There were a few words of warning from old Mr. Smylie as to the irrevocable nature of the step they were about to take, a breathless pause, and then Miss Marjori- banks and Mr. Woodstock took up their ens almost simultaneously and dipped them In the ink. Their eyes met as the did so. Stephen’s were tull of a wistful kindliness before which poor little Kitty's Bank, and her heart beat fast. How lovely she looked, the young man thought, and how sweet! her pallor and agitation only made her fairer in his eyes. The sun was shining in through the 011 stained windows and irradiating her hair and face and hands with rosy light. The charming wistful mouth was quivering, the great dark eyes softened and misty with tears. He could smell the scent of the mig- nouuette she were between the buttons of her pnle-hlue gown. Oh, if sheâ€"â€" “Elfilâ€"(Vléniliyira: the young man eat, his eyes fixed upon Kitty, his ‘pen poised over the pa er. ‘Angus row and croEsed the room, am hi; shadow, falling across the table, blotted out all the glory of light that was sutfusiilg the girl's drooping head. “'ith a start, Stephen took his eyes from her, and, drawing a long breath, he immediately sign. ed one ofthe papers}. ' Kitty had already signed hers, and she sat with clasped hands and downcast eyes like one awaiting sentence of life or death. Her mother was standing behind her, and softlyjaid her hand now on her hair. _ " We are quite ready for you, Mr. Smylie,” said Mrs. Marjoribanks ; and the old lawyer advanced and took the two papers and pro- ceeded to have them prppcrly attested. Lower and lower mink-poo} little Kitty’s chesnut head when, in a breathless silence, Mr. Smylio proceeded to read each document aloud. She had known, she had felt for some time past, how it must be; and yet great hlushcs of shame were burning in her cheeks, and her heart almost stood still with- in her. For, after all, it was Mr. \Voodstock who had said ” No,” and Miss Mnrjoribnnks who had said “ Yes." And Kitty was consc- qucntly mistress of Sonthlnnds and of the much-talkcd-of hundred thousand pounds. Well, it is all over, old fellow, and Miss Mnrjonhanka is, as she has a right to be, her uncle’s heiress. I am sorry to say that my sweet little Dom looked coldly on me ever since the papers were signed to that Stephen Woodstock to his I’urlncr. effect. Isaid nomqthiug _\eI_y _pathetic .to her that some evening. as to Beiflg more in need than chr of a little domestic angel to console me ; and she fumed her pretty dove- colored feathers and told me quite ehmply, {or such a bud of a mouth. that! had better make haste back to New Zealand and look for one. That is the last straw, Ned, isn’t You ask when you may ex ct me. I hardly know. I have promisei kind Mrs. Marjoribanks to remain at Southlands for a few weeks longer; it certainly would look rather ungracious to hurry away. And, when my visit is over, I shall prchably take a run on the Continent. I confess to leeling somewhat too restless just now to make a pleasant companion for you, old fellew, or for Mre. Herbert and the girls. At any rate, when I do go, 1 shall leave Miss Marjori- banks happier than in unwelcome arrival found her. I believe 3 l6 had a doubt up to the last moment as to my intuxtions. She does not know me, so it was natural enough perhape. » N, L,. -L..-“ 1.....IH'.‘ nu "I... r‘"""r:' . She Is free now to shape her life as she desires, poor child! I have said what I honestly could to Mrs. Marjoribanks about this handsome cousin ; but, to my surprim , it did not seem to have much ell'ect, devoted to her daughter as she undoubtedly is. Certainly, if Miss Marjorilmuks were my sister, she should not'marry that man. But, _-VV,,, as it igiwfiz‘nt can I say. further, except Heaven bless her, whatever her fate may be ! So poor little Kitty had been true to her- self and to the promptings of her heart, and this was the result. She felt as if her shame must kill her. In whatever spirit Mr. \Voodstock took her decision, it must always remain A deep humiliation to her. For, if he acquitted her of mercenary motives. what could he think but the truthâ€"that she love- ed him unasked with u love which he could not return ? ' After all her secret struggles. after the sacrifice of her maiden mile to her love, she had succeeded only in winning Stephen “'oodstock’s pity or disdain. It was more than she could endure. She had not been prepared. in spite of some chill and secret dread, for the cruel mortification that had followed, for having it known to all her little world that she had ten rejected ; and, stung by her pain, the foolish thought came to her that she might find a salve for her wounded pride in pretending an indifference which she did not feel, in accepting with assumed coquetry attentions which displeas- ed her. And thus the girl blindly and wil- fully allowed herself to be hurried back into her old confidential relationsâ€"or a sembl- ance of themâ€"with her cousin Angus. “ Kitty, take care," she said gently one day. “Do not let your pique hurry you into doing what you may regret all your life long." nu up on 7 \Ir. \\ oodstock looked on apparently un- moved at Kitty ’8 renewed intimacy with Mr. Dare. Her ymother was the first to re- monstrate. H Kittfrshrugged her shoulders wilfully. \th; was the use of trying to be good? People on_ly misunglgrstpcd y‘ou. . ‘ \Vhen Mr. W'oodstock spoke at length ol leaving Southlands, Mrs. Marjoribanks managed to induce him to prolong his visit still further without saying one word which could compromise her daughter. It was the only way in which she sought to interfere with the course of events. And Stephen did not seem to find the house dull, quiet as they now were. All their visitors had goneâ€"even Miss Netley was back once more in the schoolroom with “the girls," and Mr. Dare and Miss Marjoribanks were ap- parently much wrapped up in each other’s society. Perhaps no one knew so well as handsome Angus how little substantial progress he was making in the good graces of the heiress. It seemed impossible to bring Kitty to the point. And all Mr. Dare’s very sufficient self-esteem did not blind him to the meaning of the girl’s caprices and moods and wistful, unnaturally bri ht eyes. She had fallen in love with the ew Zealand fellow. It was a pity. It was a chance the less for himâ€" Angusâ€"â€"-in the game. But as, in spite of his love of poetry and his romantic face, Mr. Dare was. before all things. a man of busi- ness, he determined that with a little auda- city, a little skill, Kitty’s very passion for Stephen \Voodstock should be made to tell in his own favor. One day the cousins had gone out for a long ride together after luncheon. The weather was threatening and dismal ; but, as Mr. \Voodstock had been unlucky enough to advise Miss Marjoribanks not to venture out, that was sutlicient to determine that young lady to do so. Her mother had not interfered; she had contented herself with charging Angus not to keep Kitty out too late. The two rode on in silence for the greater part of the way. A yellow mist was rising above the distant fields and creeping gradu- ally near to them. Kitty shivered a little, and thought that, if it had not been for Mr. \Voodstbck, she would like to turn back. The fire and the third volume of her novel would have been pleasanter than those misty leaf-strewn lanes, that dismal fast. falling dusk. And, after all, when they reached their destination, the Grange, a pretty tumble-down old place smothered in ivy, it was coo dark for Mr. Dare to make his sketch. But at any rate Miss Marjori- banks had asserted her independence, and had proved to Mr. \Voodstock that she would not‘permit him to interfere in her plans. ’l‘ho cousins dismounted and wandered about the old gardens of the (image for a few minutes. Angus even contrived to find a few lingering chrysauthemums among the weedy beds, which he brought to l\itty with a murmured quotation. Kitty shrugged her shoulders over the Poetry, and accepted the llowers with a. very )ad grace. “ We had better he getting back," she said. “ 1 am sure I felt a few drops of rain. Ilow dreary the day has turned out ! it was hardly Worth while giving up our afternoon tea for this.” " I am so sorry to have tempted you out," answered her cousin gently us he put her on her horse. ” Oh, I needed a good cantor !" returned Kitty coldly. " I should have gone out with Boll if you had not been here.” Ball wna hm: groom. 1 My}. Dam did not answer this Spench, and the comma rode homcwm'ds for some minutes in silence. The few (lro m of min were fastbecomingnshowcr. 'l‘hc ovumbcr CHAPTER. VIL, As!) LAST. evening wan rapidly closing it. and they were still at least six miles from Spqphlauds. “I am afraid you Will be awfully wat," said Angus, with s-alicitude, “ If we can find a shelter somewhere. it would be better to wait till this shower blowu over. We might get youtn‘cu}? 0! tea perhaps.” n . . All 0 h ”A n .ninJ Olun rum '" nrin.‘ 3 No: 116: I don"t mindkhe rain !" cried Kitty above the rising wind. “ Uuly let us go home. It is nearly dark, and mamma wi}! be_so uneasy_!"_ But it appearéd that her misfortunes were not yet at an end, for M r. Dare’s horse sud. denly fell lame, and they were reduced to proceeding at a walk. Kitty was half be- sido herself with annoyance, us they splash- ed painfull along through the mud. and the rain pourei down as if it would wash them bodily away. It was evident that they must take the first shelter that offered. and find come quicker means of getting horde. .. “ Was there ever anything so unlucky 1’" said Kitty. beginning to cry. She was tired and miserable nul unhappy. “ And there is not a house in sight. Are you sure we did not take in wrong turning that time? I don’t recognise that pond there with the trees round it." Mr. Dare did his best to reassure and en- courage his cousin ; and, before very long, a friendly red light shone upon them in the distance; and they saw that they were at last within reach of shelter, though it was only in the parlor of in little roadside public- house. ‘ “ Thmx ” said Angus gailyâ€" -“ did not I promise you a cu10ftea,Kitty? You see things are not 80 ad after all! And they will u11de1staull at Southlauds that “e are delayed by the rain.’ “ 0h. never mind the tea. !” replied Kitty forlornly. She had been riding for more than three hours, and she was wet and chilled to the bone. "Only find out how we can get home. \Ve must leave poor Douglas here until to-morrow. \Vhere- abguts are we? Do you know ‘3" _ They were some "mm out of their way, l they found, when they reached. the reu- curtained windows of the “Rose and Crown;" and Kitty. reluctantly enough, consented to dismount and enter the study little parlor, which smelt of stale tobacco, and was adorn- ed with gaudy chromos of scenes in the hunting-field. A fire was being already lighted in her honor, and presently tea was brought by the hndlnrly in person. She cat-t many mqlusitlve glances at the pretty girl with the agitated face who was restless- ly pacing up and down and beating the skirt of her habit with her riding-whip. The young lady declined all offers of dry cloth- mg. “"I must get home at once,” she said piteously. “0h, Angus, go and see about it. please !" " When I have seen you made comfortable with a cup of tea by the fire," returned Angus gently. “ Come, you poor trembling little Kitty, don’t-look so unhappy, dear, pray ! Are you not-safe with me '3” She tried to smile at him as he left the room; but it was a very unsuccessful at- tempt. \\'hy had she been so obstinate about the ride? she was ruefuliy reflecting. What would Mr. “'oodstock think of this lengthened lete-a-te!e with her cousin? “ If he could not care for me, she thought, a sob rising in her throat, “ I might at least hayquepyhis respecy. » A_nd now_+-" VAfterlwhat seefned to her an intolerably long time, Angus came back, showing grave annoyaglce iq hAis fact? algd mapney. “It is awfufly unlucky," he began; and Kitty looked up, alarmed. “ \Vhat ?" she demanded breathlessly. “You must not care,” her cousin ur ed gently. “ There is really nothing to be is- tresaed about; but I am afraid we cannot get hpme to-night." .. “ Angus !” ”The girl started to her feet, tramplipg lil_m_a leaf. W 7“ It}; reining 7 more heavily than ever,” he went on; “ and there is nothing in the shape of a. conveyance or a horse to be had here." “ But it is impossible to stay here," per- sisted Kittv, very pale. “ What will mamma think? “'hat will every one think? Angus, we must walk !" "vj‘vbhrgl‘xsrâ€"didil Ekfiyngcome out with you ‘2” cried Kitty, bursting into a passion of tears. _“ Ifook_§vl_lat_n scrape I have got into ! It is dreadful l" N 7"vi‘rbfit {\Jbifiild be madness, dear. It is five miles--and in this rain !" {(th fife with me,” repeated Angus softly. “ Don’t. you know what good care I will take of you, Kitty ‘3” “I don’t wan’t to be taken care of," sobbed Kitty passionately. “ I want to go home. \Vhat will mamma. say when we come sneaking in to morrow‘.’ “"1131; will evgrybody say ‘3" There was a little silence, broken only by Kitty’s sobs, as she stood leaning her head on the chimney-piece. And then Angus, drawing nearer, said in his low and musical voiceâ€" V '5 Kitty, put it; out. of their powerâ€"out of Mr. \Voodstock's power especiallyâ€"to any a11yt!1ing._” _ ..... I. ‘u 0| .1“. “ 1 wish I could !" sobbed the girl. ” But what. can We do?” She lifted her tear- stained face and lonked up at him expect- antlg, with n gleam of hope in her eyes. “ What can I do, Angus '3" “ You can give me the right to take home my promised wife to-morrow," whispered Angus; and he would have put his arm round the slender sobbing figure. but the girl drew back, her eyes blazing with indigo nation. " llow dam you,” she panted out, the fire of her anger scorching up her tearsâ€"" how dare you be so umnnnly when I am here with you myay from everybody ‘3" .. Kitty 1" ' ‘ “[mnthwhnm!”dwstfiwfidmghhn again, and getting behind the chair on which she had been sitting. “ Don’t dam to come near me 1" w "yu- any ” Of course I will not, dear, if you forbid me,” answered Angus quietly, though some- thing jarred in his voice and distorted in his handsome face. “ But why blame me, Kitty, if my lore has been stronger than my prudenceâ€"if, seeing you in distress, 1 am irresistibly impelled to ofl‘cr you a life~ long protection ’3" “ Your love!" echoed Kitty scornfull). “ It was not so irresistible, it seems to me, before the twenty-fifth of Octoher 1" “ Kitty 1" A World of reproach mm: in Mr. Dare’s deep voice. “ Don‘t speak to me i" interrupted the girl passionately. " l lorhid you to say an- other word." 1 A nu.- u u- u. “ [must speak,” said her cousin ; and now there was some coll auger audible in his carefully-guarded \‘once. " 1 do not. reproach you [or flu; way in which you have played With me 01 late." A l’iuto princess has juat married her twentieth husband. A Mhiue woman cabled the news of the death of her cat to her husband in Europe. Two women took wood-cutting contest Pa. A Vassar girl who dresses in half mourn- ing was asksd the reason. She replied that she was mourning for her half brother. The wife of an Italian scissors grinder at Nashville saturated her clothing with coal oil and tlienaet lire to it because she had lost her babe. Mrs. Harrison Thnycr of Danby, l‘a.. bc- gun sneezing on Tum-(lav and kept it up for five days, despite the «(forts of two doctors. She will recover. \Vith the money given her by relatives and friends, “hich she has saved since child- hood, a young woman in Texas bought two milch cows, paying $31 for them. She has recently sold the increase for $1,000. A Chicago widow ordered her funeral out- fit betore her death. paying $5,000 for it. The collin cost $1,400. It was lined with black and purple silk velvet, and had a solid g nld plate which alone cost $300. The flow- ors cost $1,000. . A schoolmistress of Lancaster county, Pa. , 18 years of age, announced that she would whale the biggest boy in school if it became necessary. She (lid it, dislocating the shoul- der of 1 14-year-old boy in the effort. She is now in jail. The son of arich widow near Paris. wlnle watching for burglars who had stolen man of his mother's jewels, was surprised at mi - night to see his mother stealthxly approach- ing the jewel box. She was a somnambulist, and had been transferring her own jewels to an unused cabinet, where all the missing ones were found. Sallie Craig, of Sioux City, being unable to determine which of her two lovers would make the better husband, suggested a fist fight between them, the winner to take her as his bride. About sixty eople were on the battle ground, among t em being the virl. The seconds stood with cocked revol- vers in hand, and warned everybody not to interfere. The men, John Points and “'il- liam Moss, used fists, heels and teeth. The fight lasted fifty-five minutes. Point’s strength entirely gave out, and then Moss stamped upon his prostrate foe, crushed his breast, and fractured his skull. The spec- tators then overpowered the seconds, and dragged the men apart. Points was dying when picked up, and soon expired. Vermont. has two la'ly letter~carriera. The Countess De Noumea on Compulsory Vaocuntlon In Ireland. To the Editor of Truth. Sm,â€"I have received the following letter from Madame de Noailles, who takes a live- ly interest in all questions relating to the -- public health, and in the welfare of the Irish people. and is also strongly opposed to forc- ing medical dogmas like Vaccination upon them. The admission of Sir James Paget alluded to by her Ladyship is contained in this distinguished physician's Lectures on Inflammation, in which he says that “Vac- cination produces a permanent morbid con- dition of the blood.” \Vhat sanitarians are now everywhere demanding is not morbidi- ty, but purity ; or, in the words of Dr. Ben- jamin “"ard Richardson, “Pure blood and a healthy life,” which, he adds, “will banish all disease."â€"I am, Sir, yours faithfully, \VILLIAM TEBB. Devonshire Club, St. J ames’s,London,S. W, [COPY-l Could you advocate the suspension of the Compulsory Vaccination Laws during the contmuance of the existin famine in the \Vest of Ireland? It is mitted that fa- mine never brought small pox in its rear; but low fever, which it does bring in a most; dreadful form, is directly be] on by Vac. cination. The latter may p ace Sir James Paqet’s extraordinary admission in a strong- er light than it has hitherto appeared, and mayjlso direct public opinion to“ it. "The policy .of the Local Government Board in enforcing vaccination at such a time (now that its risks are so well under- stood), furnishes an additional reason why Ireland should have a Local Government Board of its own.”â€"Yours very truly H. DE NOAILLES. It Worked. “ I remember,” said 0 boy to his Sunday school teacher, " you told me to always stop and gaunt l_i‘f_ty_wl_l_en an_gr.y.r” “Yes? “’6“, I'm gl‘éd' to hear it. It 00010}! your anger, didn’t it? " “ You see, a boy came into our alloy and made faces at mo and dared Inc to fight. I was going for him. He was bigger‘n mo, and I’d have got pulverized. I remembered what you sni(l_ and lrcaan to count." .An Grattan’s Grave. I went lately to look for Grattan's tomb in Westminster Abbey. Knowing that it consisted of a plain slab near the more maj- estic monuments of Pitt and Castlereagh, I examined the floor, and after some dilli- culty found it so placed that it could not possibly attract attention. and could only be discovered by a diligent seeker, being under one of the seats which, with their footboards, now cover many of the plain slab monuments in this part of the Abbey. In these days, when not a few Englishmen look back with lingering re rct at the crushing out of the hopes o the great Irish patriot, who always aimed to avoid arousing "an alien or distrustful spirit to- ward England,” we might surely pay as much respect to the memory of Henry Gratton as to let his simple tomb lie open to the public gaze when this needs merely the removal of the last, or at most the last two seats of the series which now covers it.â€"-~London Daily News. .. ” And you didn’t light? ” “No, ma’am. Just as I got to fortytwo my big brother came along. and the way 120 licked that boy would have mule your mouth water} I was going to ccnnt Iifty and HM) run ! FACTS ABOUT WOMEN. (Tn 151-: mxnxmzn.) 04-». the first who at a in McKeuu county,