TH E ’J‘HREAD OF LIFE; The way cf the tnmgroaaor went easy for a while with Hugh Muair. er. iiil undo ran smoother than be con d himself have expected. His two chief bugbeera fedod away by degrees before the urea light of hots into pure nonontiby. Eel dld not know lhlt Eluie Cnellouer lay deed end buried in n lonely «rave at Oriordueu; end Winifred Mey-ey wu not left a wad in Chencery. ur otherwise lmonvetit-nced and strictly lied up in her plans for marrying him. 0.; we contrary, we efl‘nirn of the d: - ceased wu'e arr mged exactly as Hugh bim- eeli wwH has wished them to be ordered. The hill in partieuler was a perfect gem ; Hugh well have thrown his arms round the bunnies: attorney who drew it up; Lire. Mave'y npp. idled sale «xecutrix end auur- diam of cm.- infaua; the estate and Hell bcq mulled absolutely and without re- muudcr m Winifred in person; s life interact in eerniu Ipec ï¬ad sums only, u Irmugul by my lament, tn the whet ner- eeli ; and the ans: ail clear for Hugh M w linger. “ [Every-min imleod had turned out for the hazy Thu 1‘" Squire h‘ad _chpaen £10 happiest possible moment for dying. The iniant and the guardian Were on Hugh’s own side. There need be no long engage- ment, no tremulous expectation of dead men’s shoes now; nor would Hugh have to put up for an indeï¬nite term of years with the nuisance of a father-in-law's perpetual benevolent interference and well-meant dictation. Even the settlements, those tough documents, would be all drawn up to suit his own digestion. As Hugh sat, decO'ously lugubrious. in the dining-room at Whitestrand with Mr. Heberdcn, the fam- ily solicitor, two days after the funeral, he could hardly help experiencing u certain subdued sense at something exceedingly akin to stifled gratitude in his own soul towards that defective breech-loader which had relieved him at once of so many embar- rassments, and made him practically Lord of the Manor of Csnsumpium per Mere, in the hundred of Dunwich and county of Suffolk, containing by admeasurement so many acres, roads, and perches. be the same more or lessâ€"and mostly lees, indeed, as the years prcceeded. But for that slight drawback. Hugh cared as yet absolutely nothing. Ono only trouble, one kill-joy, darkened his view from the Hall windows. Every principal rpom in the house faced due south. Wher- ever he looked, from the drawing-room or} the dining room, the library or the vestibule, 1 the bcudoir or the billiard-room, the White- ‘ strand poplar rose straight and sheer, as conspicuous as ever, by the brink of the Chad, where sea. and stream met together on debatable ground in angry encounter. Its rugged holes formed the one striking and beautiful object in the whole prospect across those desolate flats of sand and salt marsh, but to Hugh Massinger that ancient tree had now become instinct with awe and horrorâ€" a visible memorial oi his own crimeâ€"for it war a crime â€"-and of poor dead Elsie in her nameless grave by the Low Lighthouse. He grew to regard it as Ellie's monument. 1):. after day, while he stopped at Whitestran , he rose up in the morning with aching brows from hisslee leashedâ€"for how could he sleep, with thebre erethat drowned and east ashore his dear dead Elsie thundering wild songs of triumph from the bar in his ears iâ€"and gazed out of his window at the dreary out- look, to see tnat accusing tree with its arled roots confronting him ever, full in ace, and poisoning his success with its mute witness to his murdered victim. Every time he looked out upon it he heard once more that wild, wild cry, as of a stricken life, when Elsie plunged into the oareerln current. Ivory time the wind shrieke through its creaking branches in the lonely night, the shrieks went to his heart like so many living human voices crying for a m- pathy. He hated and detested himsef in the very midst of his success. He had sold his own soul for a wasted strip of swamp and marsh and brake and sandhill, and he found in the end that it proï¬ted him nothing. . agZin. He wrote, as of old, his brilliant leaders eve da regularly for the Homing Telephone: e s ashed three~volumo novels with as much vigour as ever, and rather more cynicism and cruelty than before, in the Monday Regisï¬gr: he touched the tender stops of various quills, warhiing his Doric lay to Ballade and Sonnet, in the wonted woods of the Pimlico Magazine with endless versatility. Nor was that all. He pla ed high in the eveniu at Palla- vic ni's, more recklessly oven t an had been his ancient use 3 for was not his future now assured to him? and did not the horrid icture of his dead drowned Elsie, tossed riendiess on the bare beach at Orfordness haunt him and sting him with its perpetua presence to seek in the feverish excitement of roulette some momentary forgetfulness of his iifes tragedy? True, his rhymes were sadder and gloomier now than of old, and his‘play wilder: no more of the rollicking, humorous, hap y-gc-luck ballad~mongerlng that alternate in the chose from 0am- machm with his more serious verses: his sincerest lsughter. he knew himself, with some pain was fraught, since Elsie left him. But in thelr lieu had come a reckless abandonment that served very well at first sight for real mirth or heartfelt gen- iality. In the old days, Hugh had always cultivated a certain casual vein of cheerful ssimism: he had posed as the man who rags the lengthening chain of life behind him good-humourediy: now, a grim sardonic smile usurped the place of his eesimistic bonhomie, and ï¬lled his pages wit a Carly- lese gloom that was utterly alien to his in. born nature. Even his lighter work showed traces of the change. ills wayward articles "is Death Worth Dying i†in the Nineteenth Century, was full of bitterness; and his clever skit on the Blood-and-Thunder school of fiction, entitled the Zululr'ad, and pub- lubed as a Christmas “shilling shocker," hada sting and a venom in it that were wholly wanting to his earlier performances in the same direction. The critics Sill," time brings alleviation to most earxhly troubles. Even remorse grows duller with agoâ€"till the day comes for It to burst out afresh in fuller force than ever and good its victim on to a final confession. Dsys and weeks and months rolled by, and Hugh Mossingor by slow degrees began u_)_ feel that 0.21101}? yos_himself CHAPI‘ER XXII.â€"Hom Mnamosv. SUNSHINE AND SHADE. OR, ' r Nesting in London suited \Vinifred, for her part, excellently well. In poor papa‘s day, indeed, the Meyseys had felt them~ ‘ selves of late far too deeply impoverishedâ€" siuce the sandhills swallowed up the Yond- . stream farmsâ€"even to go up to town in a hired house for a few weeks or so in the height of the season, as they had once been went to do, during the golden age of the agricultural interest. The strugg is to keep up appearances in the old home on a reduced income had occupied to the full their utmost energies during these latter days of univer- sal depression. Se London was to Winifred a practically almost unknown world, rich in potentialities of varied enjoyment. She had been there but seld0m, on a visit to friends; and she knew nothing as yet of that brilliant circle that gathers round Mrs. Bonverie Barton's Wednesday evenings, where Hugh Massinger was able to introduce her with distinction and credit. True, the young couple began life on a small scale, in a quiet little houseâ€"mortmsthetical- ly decorated on economical principlesâ€" down sold Muslnger was suffering from a shellow spam oi B rouio sii'cet- tlon. He knew himself 3 was reell Iufl'ering from u profound ï¬t of utter sel - contempt and wrld despairing carelessness oi oonsc quencu. The world moves, however. es Gnlileo remarked. in spite of our sorrows. Three months siter \Vyville Moysey’s death, Wntntrund reoeiwd its new master. It wee strange to (in! any but Meyseys at the Hall, for Meyseys hed dwelt there from time inmemoriel ; the ï¬rst oi the bankers, .ven, though of is younger branch, having p irchas ed the estate with his newly-gotten gold from an elder eud ruined reprtsoutetive of the mein steak. Tne wedding was a. very quiet affair. of course; lull mourning et beet, with no show or tsniioelery : end what was of more importsnce to llugh, the sr- rengements for the settlements were in. t setisfectory. The family solicitor wasn‘t such e feel so to mske things unpleasant for hit new client. Wiuiiretl was a nice little body in her way. so) ; affection: t ‘ly proud of her cap ire poet ; uud from a lunlly height oi unliml euperimity, Hugh usher liked tho‘piuk and wh to smell women than otherwise. But he didn‘t ins-m to live much at Wtiwetrand either-“At least while your mother lasts, my child," he said cautiously to Wiaifrod, letting her down gently by gradual etsges, and saving his own reputetion for kindly consideration at the same moment. “The ood old soul would neturelly like still to eel herself mistress in her own house. It would be cruelty to mothers-in-lew to dis- turb her now. Whenever we come down, we'll come down strictly on a. visit to her. But for ourselves. we’ll nest for the present in London,“ 91,) “Y!-!£.._J I-.. a. side-street in the remo‘o recesses of Phllistine Bayswnter. Bat Hugh’s cotetie, though unsuccessful, was nevertheless cxoflim’o distinguishe'l: he was hand-in-love with the whole Cheyne Row set â€"the Royal Acndemlclnns still in embryo; the Bishops Designate of fate who at resent held suburban cnrncles : the Cabl- fnet Minlszers whose budget yet lingered in domestic arrears; the germinntlng judges whosechances of the ermine wereconï¬ned in neer perspective to soup at sessions. or the Imelleet cf small devilllng for rich: juniors. They were not rich in this worl ’s goods, those discounted celebrities; but they were a lively crew. full of fun and fancy, and they delighted Winifred by their invenile exuber- ance of wit and eloquence, She voted the men with their A wlyea, yheg they had anyâ€"which wasn’t often, for Bohemia. can seldom afford the luxury of matrimonyâ€" the moat chermin society she had ever met; and Bohemia In return voted “ little Mn. Messinger," in the words of its accepted mouthpiece and spokesmen, Hetherie , “as Witt apiece of Eve's flesh as any in Ii yrie.†TheYittle “ arrangement in pink and white" became, indeed, quite a noted personage in the narrow world of Cheyne Row society To say the truth, Hugh detested Whlto- strand. He never wanted to go near the place agam, now that he had made him. self in very deed “:5 lord and master. He hated the house, the grounds, the river ; but above all he heted that funereel poplar, that seemed to rlee up and menace hlm each time he looked at It with the pains and pen. nldee of his own evil conscience. At Enter, Wlnifred dragged him home once more. to vlelt the roller In her lonely mansion. The Bord went, es in duty bound ; but the duty was more then commonly distasteful. They reached Whiteetrend late at night, end were shown up etelre et once into a large front bedroom. Hugh‘s heart leaped up in hie month when he new It. It wee Elele'e room: the room into which he hed climbed on that fateful evening ; the room bound oloeeet up In his memory wlth the hldeone abiding nightmare of hie poisoned life; the room he had never since dered to enter; the room he had hoped never more to look n on. “Ar. Ian M nlmn learn, “Within 1’ ha m-lm" “Are we to sleep here, “'innio 1" he cried nghut, in a tone of the utmub horror and dismay. And Winifred, ioekine up at him in silent surprise, answered merely in an unconcerned voice: “ Why, yes, my dear boy; what’s wrong wich the room? It’s good enough. We're to sleep here, of course --gerte_inly. " He dated say no more. To remonstmte would be madness. Any xenon he gave must seem Inadequate. But he would sooner have slept on the bare gtound by the river-aide than have slept that nl ht in that desecreted and hunted room of E sie's. He did not sleep. lie lay awake all the Ian hours throu h, and murmured to blmsel , ton thouuan times over, "El-lo, Elale, Elsie, Ellie 1" El: lips moved as he murmur- edaomotlmoa. Winifred opened her eyes onceâ€"Ila felt hqr 9pm tlgem, tho_ugh lb was ea dark as pitchâ€"end seemed "to listen. One's senses grow pretermtnrslly sharp in the night wetchee. Could she have heerd that mute movement of his silent lipei He hoped not. C uo : in wee impossi- ble. But he lay svelte till mornin in e deadly terror, the cold eweatstending n big drops on his brow, haunted through the long vlglls oi the dreery night by that picture of .Elsie, in her psle white dress, with arms npllltod ebove her hel less hesd, flinging herself wildly from the ark black pop er, the gloom of evening, upon the tender mercies of the swift dark water. Elsie, Elsie, Elsie, Elsie! It was for this heihed sold end hetreyedhis Elsie l “I (no morning wnun no row uu "mu ‘1 I our to the windowâ€" ..sle'n window, round 'Ignfihonrhornlng wh'on he 'rose, be what ._- A- AL- _l_.I-_ L“-l-'- uniâ€"Ann- Danni. whole eldee the rloh vilterle numbered IO luxurientlyâ€"end looked out with weary efeeplsu eye! nomu the weary dreary etreteh ol barren Suffolk musty. 1! we; elill winter. end the wineries on the well ahead held and neked lnl here of folleqe. How different from the time when Eleie lived there! He could see where the beugh hed broken with his welght the: awful night of Eleie'e disappearance. Ho gazed vecnntly ecreee the lawn: and meadow towards the tumbling eendhllle. “ Winifred," he “1d- he wee in no good mood jult then to call her Winnieâ€"“what a big here bundle of Ill-eight bell switches that poplar in! Se eunt and etlE I I [unto the very eight of it. 0': a. great disï¬gurement. I wonder your people ever etood is so long, blocking out the vlew hem the};_d_rew_lng room windogve." o . \IA ___1 .vl- ~-..-u -â€" .vv". . Winifred l'aocc from the dreulnmublo 3nd looked out by his Ilde in blank Imprhe. " Why, Hugh," Ibo aied, noting both hh unwanted tone and the absence of the now customary pet form of her mane, “ how can you any so! [call it just lovely. Blocking out the view, Indeed 1 Why is is the viow. There’s nothing else. 1:: the only good point in the whole picture. I love to no it even in winterâ€"the dear old poplarâ€"so tall and straig'xtâ€"~wich its ï¬wigc etched out in black and grey against tho sky like that. 7â€" I love is better than anything else at Whita- atran ." Hugh drummed hle ï¬naeu on tho fronted pane impatiently. “ For my part, I hate it," he anSWered in l ehon but aullen tone. “ Whenever I come to live an \Vhibeatrand, I shall never rent till I've out it down and stubbed it up from the room entirely.†“ "nah I†Winifred flung her arms around‘ him with every sign of grief and dismay and burst into a sudden flood of tears. “0 Hugh, †she cried, “ you don’t know what you say : you can't think how you grieve me.â€"-Don’t you know why? You must surely guess it.â€"It isn't that the Whitestrand poplar's a famous treeâ€"a seamark for sailors «a landmark for all the country roundâ€"historical almostt not to say celebrated l It isn’t that it was mentioned by Fuller and Drayton, and I‘m sure I don't know how many other fam- ous peopleâ€"poor papa knew, and was fond of quoting them. it’s not for all that, though for that alone I should be sorry to lose It, sorrier than for an ing else in all Whitestrand. But, oh, ugh, that you should say so ! That you should say, “ For my part, I hate it."â€"Wby, Hugh, it was on the roots of that very tree, you know, that you saw me for the very ï¬rst time in my life, as I sat there dang ing my hatâ€"with Elsie. It was from the roots of that tree that I ï¬rst saw you and fell in love with you when you jumped off Mr. Relf’s yawl to rescue my poor little half crown hat for me. â€"â€"It was there you ï¬rst won my heartâ€"my poor little heartâ€"And to think you realiv want to cut down that tree would nearly, very nearly break itâ€"Hugh, dear Hugh, ‘ never, never, never say so ‘2 ’ “ Hugh 'r’ There was something in the accent that made him start. He knew why. It re- minded him oi Elule’a voice a: she cried aloud “ Hugh I" in her horror and agony upon that fatal ngguiggr by tho grim old poplar. _ “ Well, Winnie, †he answered much more tenjerfl. _The tape had melted him_. No man can see a woman ery unmoved. To do so is more or less than human. Hugh laid her head tenderly on his big shonldegr, soothed and kissed her with loving gentle- ness, swore he was speaking without due thought or reflection, declared that he loved that tree every bit as much in his heart as she herself did, and paciï¬ed her gradually by every means in his lar e repertoire oi mas~ cnliue blandishments. §3ut deep down in his bosom be crushed his despair. If ever he came to live at Whiteatrand, then, that hateful tree must for ever rise up in mute aceusation to bearwitneaeagainst him i It could not 1 It should "not 1 He could never stand it. Either they must never live at Whiteatrand at all, or elseâ€"or else, in someway unknown to \Vinifred, he mutt manage to do away with the Whiteatreud poplar. There is a stream of silver pouring into Washington at the rate of half a million dol~ lars’ worth a day. It comes in the shape of fresh, glittering new dollars. standard silver dollars of the vintage of 1888, with the mill- ing unnicked and the,face of the Goddess of Liberty fresh from the stamp. The stream is flowing at present from the Pbiladel hia mint, but before ion the sluice gate wi l he awitched around and the shining flood will be turned in from New York, then, after a time, from New Orleans, and ï¬nall irom San Francisco, thus ving the Uni States a silver belt that wi ou whine even that of a champion pngilist. The Adams Express Company carries the silver in trunks or iron- bound boxes, arded by armed men. At this end of the ins the silver is carried direct to the Treasury Department in reat iron- latticed waggons, that look like 0 animal cages in a menagerie. As the treasur the boxes are taken into the building an into the basement, then down a win stairway in the northeast corner of the b ding into the sub-basement, where the air at present has an odour of soft mustinsss that brings thoughts oi mvsterious treasures, hidden old, storit s of Capt. Kidd, and similar ideas. he visions of the mystic are suddenly dis- pelled by a proey, business-like door of gut ed iron that bars the way and brings the visitor to a halt.â€" There is hardly a person in Galiatia, Ill., but what knows “Old Sam.†a large ay horse belon ng toJ. W. Watkins. ast Sltnrda " id Sam" visited the black- smith s op so often that he was led out several times during the day. Sunday morning early he took his standiniront of the shop, and there he remained all day in the hot sun, never leaving except when led away by his owner. Manda eve ’ , as soon as nnhitched, he left his eed, whic had been placed in the wagon bed. and again took up his stand in front of the blacksmith shop. By this time consid- erabie oi a crowd had gathered at Weber's store, and it was so gested that “ Old Sam†wanted shoeing. he blacksmith was sent for, and on opening the shop door “ Old Samâ€waiked in and stood prefaotiy still without bridle or any one holding while the shoes were being nailed on. As soon as the job was completed he want back to his iced, and has not visited the shop since. The people are proud of " ()ld Sam ' and think him a very smart horse, and why sh-,n!dn't they 2 A Stream of Silver. A Wise 0m Horse. (TO BE ooxrmuxn.) A mutter not unwonhy o! nmuk In the nlmogt‘ upivon‘nl .0191}: bid ‘9 tbs! Ign- ï¬roiod-to-bo undeniable pom-don, u qdio‘k unper. “ I huvo u frighdully qnlok um. W!" .i' "IA-W?“ 0%†““39 "92°“? any sign of regret. rather with evident eeli~oempieoenuy. And how often, when, with the intention oi uyln something pleasing, We reworked upon t e eweetneu of n friend's disposition to the friend in penen, no we met with the reply, †03-, you‘re quite miotnken; I'm one of the quickest-tempered people in the world 1" given in 5 tone that does not impiy mod- est depreciation of a compliment, but a de- cided unpe of nnnppreoietod merit. v Nowiihhiwilliï¬g'nmâ€"esgomeu, it may even, without) exaggeration. be calledâ€"to be convlomd at what [a mknowledged to be a fault, urikoa one as a curious anom- aly. No one would nnswor, li told, " You are very trusMuL" "Oh. no. I'm a con- stant liar ;" nor, if complimented upon consistent attention to her owu business, would respond, “On the contrary, scan- dal-mongerinv is my favorite occupation." As has, no one would give either of these answers in the serious way in which the claim so the possession of a hot temper is made. Hey there not be. underlying this inconsistency and explaining it, a miscon- ception of the real geanlnv and source of s ,I_ L‘ 3‘ a rquick temper! To many minds, this undesirable ueit seems to be the outcome of many very admirable qualities. To be hot-tempered means, inferentially, in such mental vocabularies, to be generous, and tar emindcd, and unselï¬sh, andâ€"after a litt a lapse of timeâ€"forgiving. But I main- tain that it means execti the reverse of all these things. lfamsn quick-tempered, if he give way to anger quickl and un- righteously (for I leave out oft oqnsstion entirely that righteous wrath which rises for good reason only, and is quite a differ- ent matter from temper), ho is not generous, for he shows no regard for the comfort of those around him ; he is not unselï¬sh, for it is safe to say that in nhe cases out of ten, if not in ten out often, his fury is kindled by some fancied slight to himself, and is allowed to blue simply as an illumination in honor of his self esteem ; he is not for- giving, because, though he ma recover quickly from his aberration, an soon be perfectly urbane to the whilem victim of it, the restoration is simply iorgetiulnoss, and to forget the injury inflicted upon another by his own hasty words is by no means synonymous with for 'veness o injuries he himself may have rece ved. Last of all, he is “0‘? large-minded. I am convinch that Dr. Fisher 'ona hie “moisten examined the stemth of three hundred and eleven red-tailed hawks, with the following results : Twonty-ï¬ve eontelned poultry ; four con- tained qusilu ; ï¬ve contained crows ; thirty- ï¬ve contained other birdsâ€"sparrows, etc. ; two hundred and lives comainea mice ; ï¬fty- ï¬vo containel other memmlla ; and twenty- four contained lnseoto. a quick temper is an unfailing indlcstion of a limited intelligence and a. lack of men- tal quickness. If the mind were large enough p0 grasp ll†truefelntionn of tlï¬nga, to see how: Niall a. poinhin the univeFae this temper-rousing episode occupied. and if it could see this quicklyâ€"in a fluh of thoughtâ€"the outburst would b: averted. The Report of the Commissioner of Agri- culture for 1887. recently laeued, include: a. report of the eeeletnnt emlthologlat of the Dap-rtment, Dr. A. K. Fisher. on the food of hewke and owle. This is based on the examination of one thousand undneventy-tWO stomach: of theee repeeieue birds, end will rove of special interest to farmers. In mnehueette, for instance, the three com- monest large hewke are the max-ah hswk,-â€" usually seen flying low over meadows and marshes, and _eonepi_cuoue for ,'_ite_ whitie ahonlaered hawks. The two latter are most oiben noticed soaring high in air, and amen people gen- mjally pro known as “ hog-haw a," implying Of red~ahouidered hawks, one hundred and two stomachs were examined. Out of this number. only one contained poultry, while sixty-one contained mice, twanty contained other mammnls, and forty contained insects. No farmer ought to be long in deciding that such " heu-lmwksâ€es these erefrieuds retner than enemies. Two hundred and three stomschs of the red~teiled hewks contained two hundred and seventy mice. Such (fli. cienb farm-hands mey surely be spared u chicken or two new and then. Concerning our two other common sum- me_r hqwka,â€"gooper'a 9nd ghe algarpilgip- ned.â€"the verdict-is nther lees favorable. Out of forty-nix stomach: of Cooper’s hawks, eight contained ultry, while only one con- tained mice. be larger per: container! other birds, from pigeon: to eparrowu. OE sharp ehinned hawke, forty-eight stomachs were examined. Only one contained poul- try, four mice. and thirty-alt sparrows, werblere, endother birds. All in all, there ï¬gures ere not very alarm- ing. and for the present MI lent, “tar Io men yeerl of per-location, It eeeme that our haw a may safely be left alone, to “ be fruit. ful, and multiply, and replenish the earth.’ ed at Victoria, B. (1., to ei ht montns' Im- risonmont for sellin e C inese girl for 150 to n Chinemen. enzies, who does not seem to hove known the serious nature of the offence he was committing, took the girl to several of the clergymen of the city, ut all refused to perform a ceremony which would be incomprehensible to the Chinese couple sud therefore not binding upon their consciences. Menzies then eve the girl to the Chinsmen and told ’t em they were msrried. Judge Grey. n sentencing the. accused, was very severe upon Menzies {or trying to misuse a sacred ordinance of the Christian Church to csrry out his unholy Blurposo, and declared: “If the contract- g parties are heathens, let them be married according to heathen rites binding on their consciences, or if necessary that there should be a civil marriage let them go to a civil msgistrete or the registrar. I cannot understand the sacred service of a Christian church being so prostituted end dishonored. It is no answer to soy the Chinese buy and sell these women. and not regard merriege in the light we do. You belong to what we believe 3 hi her scsie oi civilizntion and ought to lee? thst bartering children for prostitution, whether under the iorm oi msrrisge or otherwise, is e disgnoe ss “ell A man named Menzies has bem sentenc. edrat Victoria, B._Q., to eight montlga: i_m- thgt'thgxproy 11909 poultry: u n ctï¬he." Hawks Useful to Farmers. Selling a Chinese Girl. and the {ed-tailed arid the red- Quick Telnet. The quutlon bu frequently been naked by Anna-loom, “Do the-o Chlnemen wash 0 oehu in Chino! How la is that nearly all Who oome here enter the laundry bunineu? Do they love It?†No. they do not love in gay more than any other kind of labor. l‘hey did noe even know when the “Mellow mm I†ehlrs looked like, much less how to dress one, before they came to Amerlos. laundry work in Chino ll invulnbly done by w0men.and when a man ate a into». ivoman's occupation he losee his eoo nl stand- )8. They become laundrymen here simply because there is no other occupation by which they can make money as surely and quickly. The prejudice against the race has much to do with it. They are fine oooks, nent nnd iaithiul servants, and above all, very skillful mechanics at any trade they haven mind wtry. In the western states, where their value is better under- stood, they are used in as my different: positions as any other foreigners, and the laundr business is occupied only by those who all to ï¬nd other employment. NO OTHER ALTERNATIVI. But here in New York as yet there is no other alternative. Many an sole minded man as well as skillful mechanic who came to America to better his condition may be found melding the polishm irons in a New York Chinese laundry. t takes from seventy-ï¬ve dollars to tyre hundred dollars to stsrt one of these Chinese wash houses, and the way most of these lsundrles are started would lve valuable tips even to an American Welf street deacon. The main expenditure In e Chinese laundry is a stove end a trough for washing and periitions for dry room and sleeping apartment, and s sign. I .. - Anna A: a rule it requires $l00 toopena laundry in New York. But this amount is a fortune to a newl arrived Chinaman, and unless he starts mmediately into the laundry businers, he would become a burden to some of his friends. The Chinese immi- grant, unlike his European oom atriots, never comes here unless he is s ely sur- rounded by friends or relatives upon his arrival. These immediately initiate him into the mysteries of the laundry business. In some friendly laundry the newcomer is aimed under a six months' apprenticeship, ginning at the wash tub, until he reaches the ironing table, and lastly the polishing board. An apprentices begins with 83 per week and board, and a gradual addition of $1 per week after the ï¬rst month, until he is able to take charge of a laundry himself. Then if he has money he hires a place and hangs out_his_ sign†If not he gdes to one or two friends, 3nd they will call a “ whey†or syndicate for his beneï¬t in the following manner. MYs'rsmBs or run " waxy." Suppose I have an established laundry, and want to borrow $200 at a certain per oentnm premium, but I cannot ï¬nd any one Chinaman who is able to loan me the amount. I put up a notice in Mott street that_npon such and such a day I wish to make a “ whey" of twenty men, who all are supposed to be situated like myself, each wanting to borrow $200. When we twenty borrowers all come together we each put down $10. Then each one secretly writes upon a slip of paper the amount of interest he is willing to five to get the 3200. These slips are careful y scale and thrown into 3‘} bowl. At a giventime they are opened, one to the highest bidder goes the 0200, less the interest, which is invariable deducted immediately fromAthe principal; Frequently as high as $4 is offered for the‘ use of $10 for a single month. In such‘ cases each of the nineteen other borrowers gives tothe lucky one only 86 apiece for theSlO apiece which they make him pay next month. Then the next highest bidder; gets the $200, less the interest he ofl’ered,1 and so on, until the entire twenty, at twen- ty different times, have obtained the use‘ of this $200 ; but the one that comes the last, having offered the least interest of! them all, reaps the harvest of the “whey.â€! This method is adopted by most Chinese; laundrvmen in New York and other large cities to open new laundries. It partakes of the gaming flavor which is captivating to every true Celestial. K How many stars do you see when youl look up to the sky, on a clear, moonle ni ht? Some people would say it they were} as ed this question: “0h, hundreds!" or “ thousands!" And some might. even go to the length of millions ; but very few would give, an exact answer. ; Well. astronomers tell us that on a goo night, with good eyes, we can see from two to three thousand stars. The actual num-’ ber of stars which may be seen without a telescope, is two or three thousand overhead; five or six thousand round the whole world; But, with the help of the telescope, Sir William Herschel, the utronomer. onlonlé eted twenty million stare round the whole worldâ€"twenty million nuns; for stars are only distant suns. l rerhnpc you know the bright star called Sirius-shut star whloh bllzoa In the south ern sky, shining b turn: red‘ and blue: teen and white? but llght from Slrln oft: its surface twenty Kean Bï¬o. Slrlus ll so fsr off that it has ta en the lght twenty years to reach the world. ‘ l Wifeâ€"John, dear, If It should be my ml: fortune to die before you do, do on thlnl you would marry again? Hueb -â€"Well, i dunno, my love. Until it comes to him‘ no men can tell how he would be able fl “tqdmmï¬mï¬fy- . . ‘ I -._l They must be very distant indeed, on} will as , because they look so much ems lerf than t e sun. And they are very distant. Alpha Centsnrl, the nearest star, whose dis-j tnnce we know is two hundred and twenty ï¬ve thousand times as far away as the dlsv'l tanoe of the sun from the earthâ€"two huné dred and twenty-ï¬ve thousand times ninefj ty-one millions of miles, or millions 03. millions of miles! The light from Alphei Centuuri, which we see, started three and r; hali years it ago. All those three and 5:: half years it has been flashing onward at the" rate of one hundred and eighty-eight thou-t! send miles each secondâ€"it has trsveled one, hundred and eigl ty-eight thousand mileaf: with each tick of the clock! Thst shows ux’ how very far oii‘_Alphs.Ce-nt9nri is. 9 J lnEsâ€"“Joh’nnon wants to borrow $104 from me. II he cod 2" Blakeâ€""You with proper noon tin." Jinksâ€"“Who would {on ragga-H" Blahâ€"“A ohsl‘ and pod ooh, 3 pair 0! hondcnfl'u ï¬nd a do E‘hae would be onough, I thlnk, to ho‘ m." Chinese laundrymen. The Stars.