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Bad lhiabitsâ€"Prison garb. shares are now worth $97,500,000, But a year from now another dividend of 17 per cent, is expected. . 4 bnbby, looking gloomily at the coin in ‘.fiufl:fid Â¥* fiv- you the gantle: man ‘s #nyhl. Shylock the Jew at that ste theatre «* Yes, I am," was the reply. _ > ** I thought so," mtnmes cabby, * You does it to perfection it comes quite natural . to you, I suppose !" â€" ~ Increase 1888......... _ 820 159 'hlnmu as to the condition of crops in Great Britain continue gloomy. For several hundred years and down to comparatively recent date, money was ‘toined at from twentyâ€"five to thirty difierâ€" ent â€"cities in France t:nt had inhérited the nnvflnnt Now all French money is coined at the Paris mint. ‘Few French gold preces are, however, in circulation, ekcept those bearing the head of : Napeleon III, and silver pieces of the same coinage are jist as common. . French silver coins wear admirâ€" ably, and Plecen of the reign of Charles X., Louis XV!II and Napoleon I are very comâ€" Delegates representing 248,000 coal minâ€" ers met in Birmingham on the 19th and decided not to accept the proposed reduction of 25 per cent. in wages. The Amoskeag Cotton Mill, Boston, one of the largest in the world, will shut down for the month of August, owing to the presâ€" ent condition of trade ; and according to & statement made by the selling agent of a New England Mills it is pnmfigfiu simiâ€" l.rb:'g‘lon â€"will be taken by a number of ot in the east similarly situated. Ken: modern capitalists took up the m the canal has been completed wt% soat of $14,000,000. _ _ _ "> system, ‘and lrtdn are . transported. by means of soâ€"called ‘*létter shops." These aro somewhat like our-,exgren E::inau, as packages are also sent, and both letters and packages are insured and registered, and charges are in proportion to the Aistance to be carried. Thereâ€"are said to be nearly two hundred of these letter nhors in Shnn?fl?-i mloug, ‘which send out employees to work up custom. Foreign‘ letters are conveyed from China to other countries by the postal systems of the latter, consuls being considâ€" sred as postmasters for their own counâ€" tries.â€" It is estimated ttlt the depreciation on the New York Stock Exchange during the No‘&su-iod af depression is no less than $700,000,000.: In this connection the Finanâ€" cial News says : ** We boliove that the deâ€" Y‘ohfion is justified by the condition.of merican railways. It is due rather to the overcrowded state of the speculators here and the utterinability of Americans to sup« port their ewn stocks." There is a canal to be opened in Greece which has been a long time in construction. Tt crosses the Isthmus of Corinth. _ Its conâ€" structitin was bégun in the time of Nero, in the first century of the Christian era. . It shortens the distance between the countries of western Rurope and Athens. The gentle Nero first struck the earth with a pick in building this canal, but heâ€" had to go slsewhere in the empire to attend to more &r::j.ng business in putting down a revolt. Ten years ago modern capitalists took up ‘. The magnesium flash light invented by Professor. Schirm, of Berlin, Germany, is said to be far superior to anything. yet known for ligbtliom purposes. â€" This light is produced by blowing a small quantity of magnesium povdo_r with a current of l..ir, which nas previous} fi.”d through pumice stone u'.nr:ud wit{ uzine,into a benzine fu flame: The flash produced is exceedingâ€" ; intense. _ With the use of ten centigrams of magnesium powder a flash of 400,000 candle power can be produced, which can be seen on a clear sunshiny day at adistance of six miles. » length and breadth." ‘The following rather good story, whether true or false we cannot say, is told of Mr. Henry Irving... > 8 t me years ago he was being dri to en rporn in at lest on only the acriving at 1 paid only The Rev. Mr. $â€"â€" is pastor of a conâ€" mfl in the Midlands, Some of his are the richest le in town, but not celebrated_for pnmq in supporting the church. The good prescher has been trying to get the poor people to come to his church, and recently through the colâ€" uwmns of the local papers extended to them aâ€"cordial invitation to attend. . At the close of th&service lately he said :â€" m“ e "";#i'ui}iiii{"’ W ho shmells _ !* Brethren, I have tried to reach the :fiflfimd&hd-nthfii to come The Sutieotion jurt ink ";;..u...._,""' en a i that they have come." Pr (.a a stail in the Vietoria‘ market, Manâ€" ches t last week, a /ew live lobsters wore exposed for sale. Am-um-lon’. and, the dormant animals," asied fitxd“lflhmflmnim one of them to m close proximity with his "--’Wm.::uu; ;.Iun-.“ " IP‘ll hev s t w %W".:” :h:u:r"':;n‘w %hflw her nul:-k.; ) in triumph, and simply asked the PRADE AND OOMMEROE °* ' * es rempa m stt P vaer ie copni of"uagiana rate ~continude 4+ ' ‘ m par old is said to have been dissovered in W " sat) Lll‘ paying quantities â€" in West â€"Ausâ€" i« k ‘ . Frenchmian deciares that vegetation be aided by electricity. Potatoss plantâ€" * n the path of the electfic current â€" grow He Did 1t to Porfeotion. ‘The Fish#woman‘s Turn The Poot With Themâ€" the British Governâ€" nal skares in 1875 NOT WISELY, BUT TOO WELL To Erlsbach, and, as a matter of course, to the Kaiser fiol. comes one June evening two ladiesand two maids a courier,and lugâ€" gage, en attendance, Their arrival is expectâ€" ed, their rooms are taken ; the best rooms, with a bdcén{ overlooking. the river, and that far:off viawâ€" of the mountain heights beyond, where the purple light of evening is melting on the whiteness of sternal snow. The speaker advances and joins her. «* Yes ; you are right. I only came here once ;it was years ago, and mly heart was heavy with a great sorrow. left it beâ€" hind me, Lauraine ; buried it amid the lonelg woods and mountain ways, Oh, my dear, my dear, if you might do the A sigh parts the beautiful grave lips of Lauraine Vavasour ; she grows ve3 pale. ** That cannot be," she says, faintly. " I could mever forget easily ; and this, this was Eut of my lifeâ€"myself, Do not let us speak of it, Etwynde ; it burts me still." __ !* Most people say to talk of their troubles lightens them," .. â€". 4 ; _._ 5 ** 1 am not like that then. My sorrow is shut in my heart. 1 canaot bear to profane it with speech." â€" d eS s In the warm June weather Erlsbach is ab ite best. So green, and fragrant, and cool, with soft linj&lowm; from the pine forests, and the gleam of snow on the mountain heights, and the emerald waters of the river shining in vivid brightness where the sunâ€" rays slant amidit. the greenness of the boughs, o ie S e o h Nn 4 When the bustle of arrival is over, one of the two ladies comes out on the balcony and stands there for long, looking out at the pretty, peaceful scene, A.yoice from the room within speaks after a time : . ** Do you like . it, Lauraine ?" t The figure moves, turns half round. ‘"It is like a poem," she says, softly. * Like it ? One can hardly say that ; one feels it." *‘ Not to me ; nothing on earth, even your sympathy, could lighten it." mt Fn&fl could do no _ good," he said philooofh' ty; and le hated the gloomy quietude of Falcon‘s Chase, and was only too glad to leave it. Lady Etwyndestayed with Lauraineall through thatiireary winter; she.could: not. bear to leave her alone ‘in hergrief and despair, for the sorrow seemed‘ but to take deeper root in her. nature. Even all Lady Etwynde‘s gentle sympathy could makeno way. ..She halfâ€"feared and only hlll-oomgrehondod this new phases in her triend‘s character.â€" For she could not know that Lauraing felt a terror of ~hersolf now : that it seemed to her as . if the one safeguard she had clung to had been swopt from her â€" hold, and she lay anchorless, shelterless on the groat dark sem of life, beholding no hope or ray of light, turn e she would. ~~The chillâ€"ofâ€"winterâ€"passed into the â€"fxir; sweet month of spring ; but nochange came to her, Nothing seemed to ‘thaw the ice about her heart.â€"Aâ€"strange chill and silence from the outer world rested upon her life as it was now. Of all her many friends and uaintances none seemed to remember her, :flxnd her, Keith had written again and yet l?il ; she had never answered him once. She dated not. His sympathy, his presence would have been a comfort too reat not to be dangerous, and the more she fim d for them the more rigoronaly she dufl:d them to herself. With the lprhl:ig her husband wrote to know Whether she wanted to come to town for the season. She read the letter with a shuddering horror. The season ! To dance, drive, gossip, kill time in« round of empty pleasures ; sate bherself with luxury and extravagance. The thought seemed loathsome to her now. _ It boasts of but one hotel does. Erisbach, alittle oldâ€"fashioned hostelry, with nothing to recommend it save that it is very clean and picturesque, and the people are honest as the day. _ R F ** But it makes it so much harder to bear, Lauraing." 2 ”S;Zréyouth and all that was best in har to have died â€" withâ€"herâ€"littleâ€"â€"child; Her eyes seemed ever to have that look in them that had so frightened and‘pained her ‘rifind ; the look as of tears that could, not all. unions among the cultured, she was shock ed and alarmed at the alteration. ‘‘You myst leave here, or you will go melancholy mad !" _ she said; imperatively ; and Lauraine, having arrived at that stage when she was too spiritless and too lndflzos ent to opbose any vigorous sch@me, yiel passively, and was borne off to Erlsbach, _ Sir Francis, . of coutse, could not come. He likedâ€"London, and was not going to g'vo tip its thousand and one n‘jaymcnh the sake of an invalid‘s whim. Her mothor offered voluntarily to sactifice herâ€" self in the matter; but Lauraine would not hear of it, and in the end she and Lady Etwynde, under charge of an experienced mg:r, set ofldfu Germany -:lr,“:wl- ing slow and easy one warm June evening at mpny Erisâ€" " But, Lagraine," says Lady Etwynde, oa-umm the ’arnr-finl after a long :?ql: pause, ‘"have you ever considerâ€" that it is like putting yourself in rebellâ€" ion against God_to go on like this! All strokes of sorrow are seat for some wise purpose. We do not see it, believe it, at the time ; but, later on=â€"â€"â€"" _ _ _ â€" > _ **But, my dear, you have your husband, yn‘fhd-: Déâ€"you know it ssems to me as if you were,in a way, estrahging yourself from him *" o _ ** Ab," interrupts Lauraine, ‘"that is jast lxl.-.ll\bb.um\mon :.hrn " with me. t one thing to e me m; it I-w Don‘t expect me to be in & months." i ~â€"** He oun find plenty of amusement in the world," says Lur:i.n;‘, u:ldly. --u“;u- Frank was noth xcept ns helr who would come aiver him in die Lflifig\h estates in the family. Jio hiny m m thitk .pine is woods YOL a» CBAPTER XV. IIL dusky curls abové her brow. In that dim light, with her pale, beautiful face turned upwards to the purple sky, she looks so young, so fair, so sorrowful, that & rush of tears dims Lady.â€"Etwynde‘s eyes as she gazes at hor. _ _ Plalma id blows over her houd and ruffies the soft * Life and worldly cares, and evenâ€" worldly joys, seemed sometimes to sink into almost jusignificance amongst these mountain soliâ€" tudes., They were E: grand, so sublime, so immovable. _ Their lessons came home to Lauraine‘s aching heart, and soothed aud comforted it insensibly to herself. She grew less sad, she brovded less over what she had lost. She had no hope, nothing to look forward to ; yet still the present\ so mm her in peace and rest that it seemed to her in after years as if theso fragrant forests, this wilâ€" derness of ferns and flowers, these fouming waters, and farâ€"off gleam of shining sluien and crowning snows, had Ym some magic power that insensibly soothed and lulled her heart‘s long pain. . Late ‘ome afternoon she and Lady Etâ€" w*nds are mtumin1 from a drive to wlittle village some two miles distant. . The sun is just setting above the forest heights, there is alternate light and gloom among the heavy foliage, those beautiful shadés of green and gold that made up so much of the charm of a wood. Lady Etv;yndo in drlvin&nthor quickly, and the road is natâ€" row. Before themshe sees a figure of ahorse man proceeding leisurely along. At the near approach of the ponies‘ rapid.trot he pulls his horse aside to ~make room. Lauraine leaning back in the little low carriage, gives a careless glance up as she passes, then all the pallor of her tace flushes deepest scarlet; she starts forward wislé an exclamation of amazement. Lady Etwynde notices it, and reing:in the ponies, â€"In aston i, quite as genuine,â€" Keith draws the bridle, and bends toward the two figures. +/ a «T bho‘fighc iou' were in Londoh," Laur® wine says; quickly:â€"After one wild leapâ€"of joy her heart seems to vgmw still â€" and cold with a great dread. hat evil fate, she wond;n has thrown him across her path now M hg; they had just visited ; and" he ‘has ridden â€" overto ~Erlsbach~ from ~ idle onribsitÂ¥l, to see what the g'hee is like. _ Of course there remains nothing for it but to invite him to the Kaiser Hog and an hour later the trio are sitting at dinner, the table drawn close by the open window, and the pineâ€"scented air blowing in cool and soft from: the mountains. â€"Reith and Laurâ€" aine talk very little to each other. The brunt.of the conversation falls on Lady Etâ€" wynde, and she in no way objects, Jiut.h has always been a favorite of hers, and they have many sharp and witty arguments, while that pale, grave figdre in the soft black draperies listeris wnd smiles, and feels at once disturbed and restloss, yet glad. _** What a strange méeting," he says "as he shakes hands first with Lauraine, then with Lady Etwynde. «> . . ~ 00. .. Theg‘lre'sll two gentinely astonished to be embarrassed, mrl(aith proceeds to exâ€" plain how he has been mountaineering for the last month in the Tyrol district; how his headquarters at present are that little vil: : Soofler or later they would meet. ,.She had known that always, but had never dreamt of it being so soon, or so strangeâ€" s o e ts e is Somehow in Jife the mestings we expect never do take place as we expect them. We may. rehearse our little scenes as carefully as we please, we may arrange our looks our words, the very tones of our voices, but when the actual rencontre does‘occur it is sure to be utterly differentand thecarefullyâ€" aresuged. brogramme is never carriad ant It is so with Lauraine now. She someâ€" times Tonged, sometimes dreaded "to meet him, but always imagined it at some dis« tant time and in some totally different manâ€" ner ; and now Keith is sitting at her table, her own guest, smiling, talking, looking at her to all a as unconcerned as if ::n ':vguJu scene"" has never been enactâ€" The cloth is removed. The soft dusk settles on the rflty quiet scene. without. Lady Rtwynde, who dislikes a glare of light, blows out nesrly all the illamination of candles in their room, and they sit there by the window watching the stars come out one ome; talking less now, but with m‘ad earnést in the talk that it has Incked before. _ / _ s _ At last Lady Etwynde risés, and, saying -hahnmun’n write, moves awsy to a little inner room, partitioned off l:r curâ€" tung ToA miftgan, get not weltinde sitting. . It 66 ‘The sensé of being together, the knowledge that théir low tonés ars unheard, is just restrained by tha feeling that another perâ€" ** Mr Athelstone ! Is it possible *‘ she n wtt W;/"T‘r lag 87 URS AND COUNTY wWESTON. ONT. ‘‘Sad !" ‘he echoes, wearily, . " If you only knew how 1 ‘are right ; I oi“t not to dfl% strange it seems to meet you here ; t makes one believe in Fate! To think that I rase this morning .and rode Off haphazard, not even guessing you were within a bundred miles of me, and now, at evening, I am aitting by your side ®.â€" . /.. / _ * How is it you have forsaken the London season ?" qwt’louhimlu * If I told you the real truth you would be angry, ll_!l o::nfl utier oo{lv.nw:ul rvous sgitation. . * L. help you, :d is m?%um ol my own life that yours is wAd." . . C lies so you, Lorry. She trembles a little. : Her eyes go out to the shiving river that mirrors the silver glory of the starlight.. â€" At her heart a dull . ** Your friends, the Americans, where are they ?" she asks ovasively. . . . _ ‘‘In Paris, I believe. Atleast, they may have left now ; but they were there up to ls’. Nan is mad e ** Nan," be it r is what he alâ€" ways calls Miss s i efferson. + Lauâ€" raine knows this, und smiles & little. * *‘ You and she are as grea y _ o bho narettitent [Monds as ever, ©*‘She is a jolly little girl," Keith answers, carelossly, . _** fu, I we are friends in a way. We are alwa ling,, and yet always making it e L. _ ¢*Why don‘t youâ€"imarryâ€"her?" asks Lauraine, ubru'ptl;.o‘_, w ’A 19 L oen 9 He ‘stares at her as if uncertain of what he has heard. . ** Marry Nan ! Good Lord ! I never dreamt of such & thing |"..â€" T He laughs a little bitterly. *‘ What fad have you gok, into {W head? Nan looks upon me as a sort of elder brother,. There has never been anything of ‘ that sort ‘ beâ€" tween us, As for marrying, well, you ought to know I am notâ€"likely to do that." _ "I think you ought to marry," says Lauraine:" nryyb qnizfihy. a Your{u ‘you have wealth and position, and yet you lead such a * homeless‘ kind of life. That is the only word, that e; s it.. And some day surely you will k of settling down ; you cannot be, always this," .. **Other pooTlo have," continues Laurainé; ‘even theâ€"girl hnrul{. I fancy." *.*You e'onfi'l;rl“l;‘ ) ‘marry," he says, with exceeding « ** Have you found the experience so\pleasant a one?" . Th(; ‘crim?o'n colour %l.h.e. ‘l!ll over t‘l;a proud fair face. ** That nothing to do. with it," she says coldly. \ _ ___ _ _ _ <* Has it mot? Well, if I choose to be faithful to a memory. that is my look out. I am not one to forget easily, as {have told you before." fer=* _ {* And you don‘t care for Miss Jefferson: asks Lauraine, unwisely., . _ asks Lauraine, unwisely., He looks at her in Jnoo for a moment, and under ‘the -trwg'mmngmhm of his glunce, her eyes turn from the scene withâ€" out and â€"meet his own. There comes the sound of a rustling skirt, a closing door. ‘Lady Etwynde has left the inner mm;thmslone. In an Initant he is ling by the low chair on which she site. > Hex hands are despairingly, and her two hands go up to hideâ€"her {-cv."rfl)m'ntwr.uion-m weeping shakes her from h to foot. Keith is alarmed, distressed, but he is wise enough to rise ahd stand quietly by. He attempts no consolation. " fime. _ She also rises, a:littleâ€"ashamed, a little confused. . . AEFYY cony of tho'qnd'nt old * Hof," and & slenâ€" m figl;ro with draperies of dasky h}ac‘k, a faceâ€"white, â€"solemn,â€"inexpressively sad that looks back to his own. ** I think you should know," he says, very softly, uie 132. . ° 5 t Lc e l . ; d."m ‘Inaorry'. Lorry bries; it is so ..The passionate plaint thrills to her very heart. â€" She l?y- her hands on either shoulder, and looks down into the painâ€" filled depths of the blue eyes. W 7“?0;&;;; n_:‘l-d,-l-;i'd-i&omt. nn:;l then ou have your ho t husband, your o onl lorgivu:“. -’:‘ erling ! | ow could I be so thoughtless?" . â€" hxk .. _ He sees the spasmi of pain on the white {yx, the sudden qflmp‘oll. the soft. red Lp¥® .. 5 0. *b OBebew ie . 1 The storm abates at last. Those tears have done Lauraine good. . She has been ** Let us go out on the balcony," she says And he follu‘:I her without a :ilrd. * It seems like a dream to him ; a dream that will never be forgotten, that will haunt his memory with & vivid thrill of pain whenever he feels the scents of mounâ€" tain Air, or sees the &bn of quiet stars, With them, too, ‘he will see the little balâ€" _ A hundred words r= to his lips. It is Ln h‘:n:indfihn: : ons her of what her us reall $ scandals that are whlq:log Imxtbfl“h“ over cigarettâ€" es an Y “h‘ restrains him. â€"It mu'k mean, he thinks; and, after all, would is make difference to her? Had she ‘fia:uhr womâ€" And, after all, she loves him, not her | husband. . On that eramb of comfort | he feeds him and aching‘ heart, -t-:din. lhcn‘nm , silent, troubled, ting . passionate :‘r:ptho m bide â€" honour and mg: to the snatch at the perlious joy of a sinfal . e l u'Oh hard ?" "I know it, dear," shé "'-I’ ys, very gently ‘‘Is it not bard for me too ? it “fâ€"-l bave nothing now !" she groans, me to struggle ) AUG. 3. 1898 ie a lard| we of it my ht I leave ke my life sigh hold all beset a .l:. omld not with of HERALD. spair," M "Ofll:r'iule;hutyoumolykM' me well enough to believe me." â€"___ _ ... forsaken women, nor the rivers of our + cities bear such burdens of shame -JT. girl, we stood wfiwn}irhy-d at sweethearts in the ‘old Grange garden at Silverthorne? ‘Till I die I shall remember you, and love you, Lorry." _ i. **It is becausé I believe you that I wish to sgve you du&or pain, â€" §ou carmot com:â€" mand your feelings, and Iâ€"I myst not lisâ€" ten to you now, . It is wrong, shaineful." _ C e n Mss 20 O TiR TUECIRTET He moves lannfly. ** Your words are very cruel. t to me you have always been that. You could not be true to me even for a few years." f â€"+* You do not know me, if you doubt. Have I not been true to you since, boy and . ‘Other men have said the same, and have mggrgy . . * se h.Sho.l};u?.dmuflsbhvhldm r.. *"It is ungenerous to speak of t now ; you know the faalt was not all ‘But Keith is in no mood to listen to her. His blood is on fire, his heart is hot and angry, and he feels that sort of ngvithil him ‘that to spend itself bitter words and unjust reproaches, even on one he loves as dearly as he loves Lauraine. There is a sort of savage satisfaction in m-kin’ her. suffer too, and he pours out & fury of wrath and reproach as she stands there mute and pale and still. **I am not ice, like yourself," he says, in conclusion. "* Other women love, and. fo‘geb all else for love. Youâ€"you are too cold and Erudent: » I am zvv.n , and you. have wrecked my whoie life, ..5 given me nothing but misery. I wish [ had died a thousand deaths betore I had seen you !" A shiver as of interime cold passes over her. She knows Koith‘s wild temper of old;. but lkho hl:d ::;. thought li)t '“Sl: ?hn z 8 as he spoken to her. e t.g:: & great love firdurrflirut on hate, so intenge may be its passions, its longing, its despair,. an & ** After all," says Keith, with a.mocking laugh that grates terribly on her ear, ""‘why should I not follow your advice as well as your example ? Wl! should Leat my heart out, and waste my liIe on an empty love You have told me to leave you ; that you wish to see me no more;â€" Very well ; this time I will take you at your word. I will leave you, and let the future prove who was right or wisest. Iâ€"I will go away ! I will forget !" ‘ ® I Clara : * Well, â€"aunt, have your r_.“" he come from Mr. Snappeschotte‘s *" ai- Maydeval W)l « Yes ; and \hymtmhq .-:“um an impuadence. "%! What was it * «+ ¢ 4 were these words ; * #‘I this is oureâ€" fully preserved.‘ bukiness is it of his if I am a little old #" 4 * ‘d“;flm‘ "‘It is well," she says, her vaice low and faint. "*I dese»ve all you have said, and more, _ I have only brought sorrow to you! Go away, live your own“fila, forget me, and be_ha&py again." * â€" Re ** ‘Those are your last words !" **Yes: h.ddy life is hu! and sad enough ; you would add to it shame and misery and undyin% remorse, and call that a proof ofâ€" love. Forgive me if I cannot see it in the game light as yourself." + â€" _ "*And Isay you do not love me, and never did, or you would knowâ€"â€"" > ** Very well," she interrupts, ** believe that.â€" It is best that you should." *‘ And I am to go now *" he says, sorrow: ful and hesitating. . <"If you send meâ€"from ou toâ€"night, Lauraine, { will never co me Lok. Remember that." both beset with eruel pain, and waging that terrible cenflict mthv;i‘n'-iommg and wounded pride that is at once so illâ€"judged, and resentful a thing. _ F9 & *‘ If he only knew," she thinks, in the derthl of her aching heart, " if he only, only knew !" > ; Lauraine looks steadily away from the ontr,oh&ln!..-w-.wh!ul eyes; away, .'“I’ to the farâ€"ofl mountain range swept with faint gray clouds, #ilvered by the clear moonlight and the haze of the shining stars. .. _ ** I have never asked you to come back," says Lauraine, faint md‘ow, "* and be very sure I never will, I am sorry that you are :merwifll me. _ Perhaps toâ€"morrow you will be‘sorry too. But I know it is best." But he does not know. To him she is only ‘cold, calculating, unlovin?. Right and pure he knows in her mode o lcvin&md thinking ; but what man who loves as Keith loves can see right and purity as the things they are? . is msd "Dear Heaven! how hardit is to do tight !" she â€"moans. i ‘The wind stirs the pine boughs and the stars shine calmly downi _ _ _ . They have seen so much of trouble, have heard so much despair, and to them a human “l!:d.h such & little space to sorrow in, or be & s« *tGoodâ€"bys then t"._________â€"1._"_.___ She turns, and gives him her hand. He looks at her long, and the blue eyes grow misty, the fire and anger die out. He bends ~suddenly fsnvr and ~touches ~her lips with his own.‘ Ho doés not speak anâ€" other _ word, only drops her hand and goes. ,_ The echo of his footsteps dies away;~ The door closes with a heavy sound. _. _ _ With a gtified sob Lauraine falls on her knees, and leans her head against ‘the low railings of the flowgr:covir_td‘ bajcony. . "_ â€" ‘The rails will form the first cargo of such heary -“-ur‘nl that has no&hnunhvvy:. sea to Siberia, uen droth n wa an fldmbh.vh‘dd‘nnlc::.vfll effected as compared with long and costly overland journey. IRON KATLS IN ARUTIC REGION 8. ck. . Remember that." . ~_â€"= _ _ ~ . Both of them are hurt and angry now, e y ies Thought it an Insualt (To BE CoNTINUED:) ¢ §# Sir Edwin Arnold‘s Keminiscences of the Real Lord of Creation in Indian Junâ€" glesâ€"An Encident on the Lower Slopes of the Ghauts and Some Reflections Thereon. C The true owner and landlord of & t‘rmtoloauuznh the parts I n-v-:l% in thought is goldâ€"coated and strip« E:mt. ot the 'o&d:, m tiger. ‘!‘lur: :‘: ranges. on tsâ€"one migh :l“r them uhutu;:'hioh uz owned, 0{: t temporarily, a pair fipu.-' may be, t?yon o{d male dfirdn‘ly.otb! a tigress which has been left alone to take care of herself and her cubs, and so develops all the worst virtues of her fierce maternity. It is one of these last . that has come to my mind in connection with a summer evening Destroyer of Man aid Desolater of Native in India,. when "'.{ the lon #oad an Englishman with his m» fmuhin( a village, In such & country as am ‘describing the villages are few and far between, partly because of many diffiâ€" culties as to agriculture and markets, N because of the resolute way in which the more courageous wild beast dispute with men hereabouts hiis pretentions to call himâ€" self lord of ‘the creation. On the plains where the country is open and casily traâ€" versed tigers never stay ~long in one rhoo. or are likely to pay with their hides if they do ; but on the shonlders of the hills; surâ€" n'mnded by thickets~which are the fringo ol % ns from the cattle, goats and of the comâ€" munity till he c‘?;c tnpfi- or poisoned, or until he for . some !:_naul reason. elsewhere, m: not so bad the country Seopla as long as he retains his natural read of man, which is so instinotive that the Indian herd boy â€" will often fearlessly save his oxen by shouting at the attacking tiger, and even filfihg his stick at him ; nor do the alender Indian,girls shrink from leading t.hoil‘;osoot,- to the stream or fatchâ€" ing bomeâ€" w and grul because a tiger has killed a cow Or kid just beyond the vilâ€" the striped rajah of the forest is oftentimes master of the situation,â€" and t‘k_q_':ibnh But at one time or another a tiger who has keen, like the rest of his kind, terribly afraid of man,in any shape, lays that dread aside on a sudden and‘forever, and then. becomes tr_nli.tomfidnblp. It is porg:r'in mosé cases the result of an unintended ‘exâ€". periment. 'l;hfo oounpho! .i tiger is the courage not pride, butâ€"of desperation, like that of a cat, He Will get between the roots of the trees or the eracks in» the earth to escape, but if escape be cut off he ‘will attack an elephant with armed sportsâ€" men upon it, which is as if an infantry solâ€" dier should hurl himself against the masâ€" onry of a fortress. In some fatal moment tha%indoo girl going with her ritnhu. or the native agriculturiss, or the local postâ€" man with his fingling bells has passed some spot were a tiger lay in wait watching . the distant cattle grazing, ..or vtmnil::' night time to visit some tigress who amorâ€" ously mEondod to his roar, ‘The beast has thou%hb imself perceived, has feared to be cut off from his usual retreat, ‘or the victim has shouted in terror, making the tiger hysterical with fright, and then, in a parâ€" oxysm of rage and fear, it has snarled and sprung forth and dealt in frenzy rather than Juign that terrible blow with the forepaw which willstun a wild boar ‘and ‘dislocate the neckbone of tbbnll. B::?lre :u wt:: angry surprise has ech thro jungle the man, or woman, or chlfihlkl a and instinct forces him to go on, and to crunch the soft neck with his yeliow fangs. Then the secret is out ; the tiger has learnâ€" ed what a ** poor forked Lfiiytfi} Jord of the creation is ; how feeble his natural forces : how useless for @ defence that eye that was so dreadéd ; thise hands that were so crafty ; those limbs that bore . him so hAn(hti{y . with his head to the sky. _ Moreâ€" over, the tiger has . tasted man and easy to butcher, and from that time forth the brute neglects no further opportunity, but becomer a confirmed "* manâ€"cater." noinae] maoiber maaldces " St it come dork scene of peculiar sadness. . As it came down the hillside by the wideningâ€"path to the junfh willage no sound whatever arose from its few and humble ‘habitations. â€" Nobody came out to make salutation or to offer supâ€" plies ; no cattle were perceived wanderâ€" ing about, no children, no birds, uu& ingeed, many vultures upon the tree in square and upon the temple roof. â€" ‘The pots in the grain dealer‘s shop were empty and overturned, a piece of cloth just h.w- left with broken threacs upon the in thenext hut. On the other side of the wa the chatties at a potter‘s were tumbled ui broken, and a sheet of copper lay at the blackemith‘s forge half bent to make some vessel, but precipitately abandoned. Wherâ€" ever one gazed I... were signs of a â€"hasty flight on the part of the inhabitants, who dig not seem to have left anybody to repreâ€" sent them. . Yes ! there was one silent and melancholy representative, and : _~~ ME SUDDEN APPREARANOR\â€"| «> .. ot her would have startled the party very much more than it did but for a discovery mâ€"close 6 temple. fi:’“ was a muddy psteh.-tm in the wquare, from which the last of the rain water had but recently dried up, and in the black slime so lefo were dmg imprinted the * puds" of an evidently immense & It was, of course, ovidont now to the is lishman, and those with him, that the Striped Terror which left: those footmarks had given the villagers notice to und was somewhere or other near at im ,rwfialpo-do-ohho fee simple of the Wms 5120 0001 ns o s skirts of this India, F is master of cteated things. _ .. " The Sabib‘s party was badiy INDIA‘S STRIPED TERROR |Mood‘s ANâ€"INTERMINABLE FOREST, UNDER HIS CLAWS, i 3e qo s NO Ss2 ment her la the s or his lordship the tiger, 2 u'ur sion of the . place, might emerge from n store or , patch, to s what . ‘:-iu-% they had upon the royal property.. horse uqm‘ufll-. d â€"follow out of the < 4_;¢ i2 rewn c n T se cecalhel Nt came, as they afterward: found, from .& in the branches of a . mango tree, from which could t en both enâ€" phtfi-r’-aahkdfi“ aiche on it with mh“:nnld & n & protruding, and by his side an earthen jar of water. Thqhvlwlli.h-: down sudtoteutho-tbo-nhfid extra ordinary spectacle they witnessed. He descended, and informed them that for months past his village had been infested en mt ing <ca t i part» Praigs ms med es during ».é' bamlet, and en, eighb;rnindo days, to aflp(arhgod, ““' at night an .off some or llaenfpg, as tmno- do, outside their hl:u under the‘ vemd:b"l:; '-':: slain that morning with t was wifd of the poormmhlock man, and he had perched himself in the tree hophg to avenge her death when the Sahib‘s party Itmmaflmnmncmm o;iintheupergp-rqmn,-ndn.‘ we? of. practi tiger shooters was eq among the officers at the nearest :um The beast was tracked and was killed after receiving eleven bullets, and then it turned out that sh6 had a halfâ€"grown cub which had lost a limb, and thus the maternal afâ€" fection of the ferocious parent had driven it to these desperate ways. Indeed, the spectacie of that village was full fifllâ€" HooD‘s PiLLG are the best Fills. They assist digestion and oure and »ater t the ho o. dabed um t dnrinen uit Wcc nds CVA 7 T osophical suggestiveness. . The dead human mother had g: llunz reason of the very same instinct which had made her seek in vain to preserve her child from the attack of chwral, driven to its wit‘s ends to find for its own helpless offspring. The tigress was in her way as tender a parent as the loving mother whom she murdered, and then, besides, there was the whole village depopulated, to make one wonder what sort of a world it wonld have been if, as might well have happened, tigets had evoived as masters of the globe instead of men.. Lost His Life to Save His Cabin Boy. A New York, special..says : Alexander g:’mrd Cann, _first mate of the B-‘v: tian barque®*Lillian," now here, lite at Demerara June 20, from %‘ acid gas arising from the vessel‘s cargo of sugar. â€" He sent the cabin boy, Dv-kii_:: the chain locker to haul in the cable. boy was belownlonht::tth‘â€"hdfi down the companion and went forâ€" T wmm:::.d d neither the mat en minutes an mate nor the ubinbay-ppmd...’i'l.'fi'-mfif- ward hatch was pulled off anda heavy cloud of vapor came lm the opening. The crew saw the mate the boy m unconscious on the lower deck, both in the face. â€" One of the crew tried to get to Jhem, but was driven out by the fumes of the sugar. Then a rope was twisted about the boy‘s leg and he was pulled up. He was unconscious and remained in a comiâ€" tose condition for an hour and a half. W hen the mate was finally raised by the same means be was dead. Fruk e â€" Doctors from shore resuscitated the cabin boy. _ Cann undoubtedly saved his ‘life, as :\e-voonodn.th further end of Glloeb:: locker, with his head projecting beyond dbvor. The authorities investigated Cann‘s Ccnn'lâ€"f:no:l- n-'n.'-:r;:;'::"'&i;- stration was made f They made Cannout -bo;’; andâ€"his last .coreâ€" monies approached in dignity the funcral of a statesman. In Mackyn‘s Disty, entry of March 3. lm.lhrmhllovhp Seen a shoe maker soundly thrashed at by order of the baliff for a priced boot of a cheap quality of m3 At the Bolding Brothers Silk Works, Northampton, Mass., there is a well $700 feet deep that is perfectly dry at the botâ€" Potato rot is caused by a minute parasite, # species of living breathing creatures se small that a colony of 2000 can live in a lpmam&lhrthnlsph’lhudl 7 In the human blood there is an averagt of 300 red cells to every single white one, The red cells have an average diameter of 1â€"3200th of an inch ; the white0nes, 1â€"25,« 000th of an inch. Wce t ‘Thom:orxmfllgbtr“uy:l: species of bi spending nineâ€"tenths life at a distance of more than three. miles above the surface of the enirth.â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€" °. A female codfish will la: 000 . during a single season. m fi mation) exemier ot Aiek repraocidne nattral enemies soon. nil the available space in the seas, m: An old German scientist has Iately come to the front with the startling deciaration that all diamonds of this “cw come from the moon or merolites or ' McCarty ; says (see * Statistician and 6 Roonomist," Page) that in order . tewy â€"â€" collect one pound of clover whast . ... deprive 62,000 clover heads of their nectar. .. z;:nwhmqmâ€"n-*wfl- yÂ¥ "@ . , i t se d L ied The largest amount of insurmnce at risk | _ A late authority on American money says that the largest amount 3“ one "gm:hnl"‘.h $10,000 and u"a is but one such note in existence.| da upon a single life is Jm Wanamaker, A BKAVE NOVA SCOTIAN. CURIOSITIES t bees, in order to~ over m» mast . . ads of their nectar. ike 350 trips to the PR