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Home there were there who had known the Mad Dick Hartleigh of twenty years agone, and these were curious to see the changes time and sorrow had wrought in the man whose wild exploits had set the so- ber world ngog. And others there were to whom he was only a name, and they looked to see what manner .vouw 'vv‘ of man this was who had started life with almost unlimited wealth and a title that went back near a thousand years; who had in his youth startled higland with his mad caprices, and who had lived a miserly recluse for fifteen years, only to end by opening his magnificent mansion to feasting and mirth. ____ r__r-_ -_.__- And now, of a sudden, the doors had been thrown open, and life and gayety, beauty and fashion thronged its erstwhile gloomy chambers. Ev- ery window gleamed joyously with the warm blaze 0! light, and soit, melting strains of music, mingled with the hum of sweet voices and the rustle of silks and satins: and white shoulders gleamed, and bright eyes flashed with Cupid's artillery, and hearts were lost and won. And the lawns and drives were gay with many colored lamps, and alive with liveried servants; and the pebbled drive-Way crunched under spurning hoofs and grinding wheels. And the gloom and silence of Ilartleigh Ilall were driven away. as he went about introducing the young man and doing the honors of the evening. Heir as he was to the title and es- tates. (May was even less known than Sir Richard, though his boyhood, tOo, had been spent near the Hall; but since his boyhood he had visited the "all only at stated intervals, and for a brief period at these times. His relations to the old man had been of the coldest and most formal kind. never reaching the length 01 aflection. and always constrained. To him the Hall had ever been an awesome place, and no one of the gay throng was more surprised than he to see the old place radiant with light and joyous with mirth and music. ma For fifteen long years Hartleigh Hall had held its doors sbt to lriends and strangers alike; for fil- teen long years a shadow had hover- ed over it, and the gloom of a. dead past. had filled it. ‘i‘hc silence o: a buried life had brooded there, and the people had learngfi toushun it. .1.» _.__ Guy was a Hartleigh. Everybody saw that at a glance. He had in full measure all the qualities for which his race had been famous. 'l‘all. stalwart. erect, and bold of hearing as one of the ancient Vi- kings. he was yet a patrician from the tawny hair 0! his head to the well-shaped feet which he used so gracefully in the mazy windings ol the waltz. And, for all the strange5 ness of the gathering, he did not fail to enter into the enjoyment of it with all the zest and ardor of youth. The ball was a success, so every- body agreed. It was threatened to be stiff: but, as the little Lady Gladys Vyner said, who could resist the iniectious guyety of Guy Hart- ieigh‘? Nobody. apparently, {or a!- ter the first feeling of wonderment at finding themseIVes in a house which most of them had come to look up- “Yes, sir." It was his uncle who had spoken. The room was dark, and Guy won~ dered what the old man was doing there at such a time. It was a sort of disconnected picture-gallery, and was used for the portraits of the lat- er generations of the Hartleighs. “Come in here, Guy; I would like to say a few words to you ’1 you are got too tirco to talk with rue.” “flat at an. 1 Nos going to sit as his uncle had done. He would return to the Continent rather than that; and with this thought in his mind, he turned from the drawing- room and made his way to the lib- rary. where he could have a last unoke before retiring. A lamp was still burning in the library, and he was about to light his cigar when a noise in the adjoining room attract- ad his attention, and he turned his head to listen. .. An. ‘ Q I on as a tomb. they one. and all abandoned themselves to the enjoy- ment of the occasion, and made the old walls ring again with their joy- ous mirth. .. It was three o’clock before the last guest left the Hall; and then the tired servants hurried to extinguish the lights on the lawn and in the house. so that before Guy had re- turned after putting pretty Lady Gladys into her carriage. he found himself, with something of the old boyish shudder, in the same gloomy Hall of the past. His uncle, too, had disappeared: and Guy, with a shrug of his broad shoulders, told himself that, after the one gladdenâ€" ing glimpse of joyous life, the old cheerless life was to be taken up again. And if that were so, what was to become of him? He would not consent to bury himself there, "flâ€"s '{héiti you, Guy?" demanded a "I know that, sir', and I am grate- fulâ€"â€"” “It is not for that that. I speak now. Listen. The estate is a good one, and, by my will or not. you will at my death be in possession of a fair income; but there is an im- mense fortune, part of which I in- herited and more of which I have accumulated, which can be disposed of according to my OWn wish. I have had you educated, and I have always provided for you with the one idea of leaving to you this wealth, which has never done me any good.” “I have Watched you carefully, and I have so much confidence in you that I do not now hesitate to ask of you what, with another, I would make a. condition of the bestowal of this Wealth.” “But you are three years past your majority. Why should I wish to introduce you now. more than three years ago, at the age when such things are commonly doneâ€"can you guess?" Guy murmured something in the nature of thanks for this promised munilicence; his uncle, however, took no notice of his words, but, as if he had not heard them, went on: “You would have resented the con- dition, perhaps even refused it?” queried Sir Richard, with an anxiety he made no effort, to conceal. “No, sir; though I have tried to do so." “You are heir to the title and es- tate. but except at my will you could never enjoy a penny of your inheritance until my death.” “I am glad it is than a condition,” quick pride. ”I am a Hartlcigh,” was the proud answer. “But the request?" “Is acceded to without hesitation. I make no reservation, for I know it is as little likely that you would ask, as that I would grant, any- thing that could not be done with honor." Sir Richard let his head fall upon his hand as he said this, and for several minutes did not open his lips. There was so little of the old familiar firmness, and there was so much of the depressed sorrow in his uncle's tone and manner, that Guy felt a new sentiment coming to life in his generous young heart. It seemed to him that in the place of the hard, repellent old man he had accustomed himself to see in his un- cle, there was one who needed his aflection and support. He put his hand out with a frank, generous ges- ture. characteristic of him, and would have spoken; but the older man seemed to comprehend, for he looked up with a smile as sad as it was rare on his face, and taking the hand in both of his for a moment, gave it a gentle pressure. which seemed to say, ”I know what. you would say, and I thank you.” Then he dropped it, and rising painfully to his feet, said, brokenly. “It, is true; but you must know the request before you grant it.” Guy lighted his cigar, and, lifting the lamp, carried it into the gallery. His uncle sat in a great arm-chair, with a. weary, wistful expression in his usually stern, impassive face. He motioned Guy to a chair, and, after a pause, which Guy occupied in idly pulling the cigar smoke in cir- cles from him, Sir Richard asked, abruptly, but not unkindly: “Do you know-why I gave this bull tonight, Guy] “Guy, you have known me as a silent, unloving man. A miser, some have called me; a misanthrope ot- hers. I have bee-n neither, but a suffering, self-condemned wretch. The cause you shall know." He drew a tiny key Irom his pock- et. and approaching what. looked like a large cabinet resting against the Wall, inserted the key and un- locked it. Two doors swung open, and there was revealed to Guy’s as- tonished eyes the portrait of a sur- passingly beautiful woman. Many times had Guy stopped wonderingly :before this seeming cabinet, but inever had be suspected what. it real- ly was. He turned to Sir Richard with a look of inquiry. "“I‘SBâ€"fig your cigar in here; and if there is a. candle there, bring that, to “My wife.” were the only words he spoke, and then turned away with such a look of agony on his face that Guy’s kind heart went out. to him. He would have gone to his side and given him that silent sympathy which men like, but felt that it would be wiser not; so he stood looking up at the lovely face, which seemed to be smiling down at him. in a trustful, tender way that he- spoke his confidence, in spite of the story he vaguely remembered to have heard of her. By and by his uncle returned to his side, and ask- ed him softly: “Could you believe her to be false?” ”No." answered Guy, in his fear- kss way. “Sit down. Twenty years ago to- day I married Constance Faulkner. She was young, and, as you we, rarely beautiful. I loved her, and I believed she loved me. And when 1 say ‘love,’ 1 mean all the word can mean. Adoration, worship, devo- tion. I had been. as you have no doubt heard, wild as few men are. Mad Dick Hartleigh!" he said, with g, sigh; “The name tells .the story. But after my marriage I was as faithful and true_as I had_ been unâ€" suble and '11d More. TWO yearr after our maniage 0. child was bon- to ”-0 fits-.1 We we“ very nap: “I undérstood fit was to introduce a request rather said Guy, with Guy said not a. word, but his broad chest rose and fell, and his eyes filled with a. sympathetic mois- ture that did him honor. All the reserve and the coldness of the past melted away, and the young heart and the old throbbed together. “I did not seek to bring her back. I doubted even that the child was mine. I asked no questions; I would not even look upon the things that were hers. I shut up the Hall and went abroad. Five years later I came back here, my heart hardened and full of scorn for myself. I went through the rooms, scofling at my- self, to see them just as she had left them. I went even to her chamber, and tossed over the dust-covered ar- ticles on her toilet-table, trying to make myself believe I did not care. And my heart was crying out all the time! )uy,” and his voice sank to a low whisper, “as I turned over the laces and jewels that lay there I came upon a yellow, timeâ€"stained en.- velope addressed to me. It was in her writing. I tore it open; I know nat what I thought to find in it: but, oh, great Heaven! it showed her to me as white and Spotless as the angels themselves. She, who had gone away in her innocence, knowing my furious anger and un- reasoning passion, had left that let- ter, hoping I would read it and fol- low ncr for her forgiveness. I sought her then, but, alas! it was too late. I hired three detectives to search for her, and for years they searched in vain; but at last they were successful, and came upon her and her child in America. But just as they were about to communicate with her, she unaccountably disap- peared. Then again they searched, and again found her, only to be baf- fled in the same way. Time and again the same thing happened, un- til it seemed to me she must be try- ing to elude me. I did not dare go seek her myself, fearing, I know not why, that if I did some dire misfor- tune would befall her and the child. Now, she is dead.” Guy’s handsome face lighted up, and he spoke eagerly. Presently the old manvlooked up with a pathetic smile and continued: "The child is found, a. young wo- man now and it only remains to bring her home. ' Home, Guy! I dare not go, and every day I look for a telegram saying that she, too has disappeared again.” The prematurely gray head dropped on the thin white hand, and the si- lence of anguish and despair 1011 up- on him. “You will let me go tor her? If she disappears again I will trace her. I will find her and bring her to you. It, is what. you would ask, is it not? It, is what I would do. Tell me what. you know of her whereabouts. Where is she now?" “In San Francisco. But it. is much to ask of your," 7 He arose and paced the floor, not with the assured seep Guy had been so accustomed to see, but. fecbly and almost totteringly. But. it calmed him, and in a few minutes he resum- ed his seat. and took up the story again: “It, is nothing. I shall be ready tomormw. We will not delay a. mo- ment. more than is necessary. I am not. only willing, I am eager to go.” "mt,’ Guy. {here is mbrc to be said.” “But what does it matter? She is your daughter and my cousin. You doubt how I will receive one who is perchance, ignorant and uncouth? Doubt no longer. She is the victim of an injustice, and I, as well as you, will do what lies in me to rec- tify it." hie to France. and there I left him dead. When I returned to my home, my wife was goneâ€"my wife and my ”More? What is it?" asked Guy, uneasily, for there was a strange ex- pressiofi in Sir Richard’s face. “Cam "you picture what my child must be, having led the life she has?" day I returned unexpectedly to find him at. the feet of my wife, speaking words of love to her. He slept not. again in this house." The old man lowered his voice, ‘_‘He went with “Ah, Guy; as noble as a IIartleigh! It applies to you as it never did to me. But have you consideredâ€"have you thoughtâ€"do youâ€"" tent with each other; but. then I one day met an old friend. one I had loved as Damon loved Pythias. I invited him to the Hall, to renew the friendship of the old days. One So happy that for five years we shut ourselves out from the wqud,_con. “You hesitate. V Tell me Without reserve, what is in your mind." “Guy, there is but one way to place my daughter right before the world." “And that is?" “By marriage with one who is her social equal.” Guy ldokcd down as if studying the full 'meaning of the words, and then looked up with a frank smile, and putting both hands out. to his uncle said: “I understand you. This-is the 1_-cqp_c_st, that I marry your daugh- tor “I noticed your attentions to the Lady Qtadys tonight.” “She'is pretty, and I was attract- ed. It might never have gone any farther. At least, it shall not. I will find your daughter, and, if she will have me, I will make her my wife. And, uncle, I do it with a cheerful heart and without one mis- giving." 7 “Héaven bless you, Guy! I do not deserve this from you." It was a boy at the St. Mary's Rad- cliffe School, Bristol, who hamded in to the teacher the following my on tine making of a British colbny: Africa is a British oomy. I will tell you how: England makes her col- cafes. First she gets a missionary; when the mussiona ry has found a r'pcci-amy beautiful and fertile trtct of country, he gets all his people round him and says, Let us. prefiud whzn all the eyes are mot, up [can .b British flag! To be continued. COLONIZING. TI GREAT WHITE PLAGUE The Ice. Frequent Cum of Death In Ontarioâ€"Wan In Which the Corn Will Enter the System-II.“ on the Prevention of Conan-"Ion. The report of deaths in Ontario dur- ing March last, shows a total of 2411 as compared with 2480 in February and 2330 in March, 1900. The increase of 81 over last year is even larger than it appears, for it represents re- parts from 87 per cent. of the popu- lation compared with 95 per cent. last son WELL-Known FACTS “our CONSUIPTION. year. Over 64. per cent. of the deaths from the principal contagious diseases during March resulted from consumption. This is now universally admitted to be the most frequent cause of death. ‘About 8,000 Cana- dians annually are its victims. Emin- ent authorities claim that the year- ly contribution of the United States to this Scourge is over 150,000 of its inhabitants. Each year the :world yields up over 1.095.000; each day 3.000 of its people, as a sacrifice to this plague. .The interest in the war which is being waged against this dis- ease is increasing very slowly. It has properly been called “The disease of the Masses” on account of its great prevalence among all classes of peo- ple, and when it is known that ordin- ary precautions of cleanliness and disinfection will curtail its ravages, it is very strange that more aggres- sive measures are not inaugurated to check its spread. There are three ways in which the germ of consump- tion may enter the human system: First, by being inhaled or breathed into the lungs; second, by being cat- en with tuberculosis food; and third, by the penetration of tuberculosis sub- stances through a wound in the skin. PREVENTION. The best medicine known to modern science is prevention. In tfighting such a disease as consumption, too much. importance cannot be attached to the . necessity of keeping in good health and of nourishing the body well with good food, sunlight and fresh air. Tub- erculosis or consumption is truly an infectious disease. but when its char- acter is properly understood and in- telligent precautions taken, it may readily be guarded against. To check it entirely requires the combined ac- tion .of a wise Government, trained physicians and an intelligent people. The disease is altogether too fre- quently contracted through the care- lessness of consumptives, or the un- scrupulousness of meat dealers, far- mers or dairymen, or through the bacilli that even with the best inten- tions on the part: of the sanitary au- thorities and their coâ€"workers are likely to escape detection. For those who are predisposed to this disease through weakened constitutions, the Wisdom of proper physical exercise, frequent bathing and abundance of strong food taken to the limit of di- gestive power is well understood. Lord Beaconsfield once said “ that the atmosphere in which we live has more to do with human happiness than all the accidents of fortune and all the acts of government.” These celebrat- ed words have a special meaning to those suffering with or predisposed to consumption. Families in which con- sumptivcs live should endeavor to have the surroundings of the house as sanitary as possible. They should never allow any dampness or objec- tionable odors to poison the air, nor should healthy individuals be allowed to sleep in the (rooms occupied by con- ‘sumptives, without first having the carpets, furniture, bedding, etc... thor- oughly disinfected. Con-sumptives should have individual eating uten- sils which should be placed in boiling water after being used. Although tub- erculosis is a communicable disease, it is distinctly preventable; that is to say, if we adopt simple and easily applied measures of cleanliness and disinfection. THE GOSPEL O‘F CLEANLINESS. A modern scientist has said that the grade of civilization of any people can be accurately measured by the am- ount of soap they use. The truth he wished to emphasize is that as peo- ple go towards cleanliness, they as- cend the scale of civilization. To be absolutely clean in one’s person and to live in clean and wholesome sur- roundings is the greatest safeguard against contagious and infectious dis- eases. This is especially true with re- ference to consumption or pulmon- ary tuberculosis. The consumptive in- dividual even at a period when he is not confined to his bed may expec- torate enormous quantities of bacilli. If this expectoration or spittle is care- lessly deposited here and there so that it has an opportunity to dry and become pulverized, the least draft or motion of the air may cause it to mingle with the dust and thus prove a means of infecting those who are temporarily or permanently en- feebled. Such a condition may be in- herited from parents, or acquired through alcoholim or drunkenness or through intemperate habits, or through privation or disease. The consumptive, if 'he is careless, may soon find that his clothes, his hands and his sleeping apartments are all infected with disease germs, and he not only spreads the disease wherever he goes, but is. in constant danger of re-infecting himself.- He should see to it that he does not endanger the lives of ’his fellow-men. If he expec- torates in a receptacle intended for the purpose, which may be cremat- ed after use, he reduces this danger to a minimum. In this connection. we desire to direct attention to one of the most nncleanly habits indulged iln by name people, viz... spitting in public places. Many people spit any- where, everywhere and always. If the habit were only filthy, it would not be no objectionable, but it is one of the most prolific means of propa- gating disease in every community. Spitting on sidewalks for ladies’ arcane to wipe up and carry unto their homes, or to dry into dust and float in the air, spitting in pubiic halls. conveyances, places of unme- nen't, on floors. gamete. In dark cor- m of moistanco are such thatwthe germ is killed or thrown off. but ev- Reu'yona should take at least ordinary precautions and avoid becoming in- fected. The disease manifests itself in so many diffement ways that it more {or their own health and the welfiare of others than (or the die- tates of fashion. \Vhen one considers haw many millions of dangerous ba- cilli and micro-organisms are gath- ered up with the dust and brought into the house by this unhealthy mode of dress, further argument is hardly neeessar'y to prove that the wearing of trains“ is absolutely dangerous. Why should ladies’ dresses be made to do the scavenger-’3 dirty work? deep respiratory movements. They should be comfortable in every par- ticular. Again, ladies cannot be told too often to abandon the unhygienic fashion of trailing dresses, at least in the street. They should be bran: and ahaw. the world that they care The question of ventilation should receive far more attention than is given it at present. Most buildings where people congregate in large numbers are not well ventilated. This is especially true of places of amuse- ment. Workshops and schools should also receive more careful attention in this regard. It has been stated that the modem tendency to over- heat private dwellings is very injur- in many other forms. in addition to the most prevalent, namely, con- sumption of the lungs. Too little emphasis has been put upon the im- portance of comfortabln clothing, in relation to good health. \Vomen es- pecially should be careful to wear clothing which will permit free and m d hotall and print. bullion. should com it we em hope to check the rum at such diseases as con- “notion. ions to health. People should not breathe the suffocating air which comes from the ordinary hot-air fur- nace. There should always be acon- stant inflow of pure air into the liv- ing and sleeping rooms. If people would sleep with their windows open it is probable that the death rate from consumption would be reduced at‘least _2_5 per cent. . A: perfectly hedthy man or woman a: a: very httlo dancer 0! contract- ing- that dmd disease hm as con- sumption or tuberculosis. Their pow- _ A. *-:-l-_-- -4- _ is my difficult to combat: it is found in the thmoat, in the bones, in the bowls, in the joints. in the. limbs, in the form of his disease and 'As an illustration of the beneficial effects from fresh air during sleeping hours, may be cited an instance of the principal of one of the leading colleges of Toronto who was suffering from overwork and general debility who left his bed one sultry night: last summer wad stretched himself on a cot but on his verandah. He felt so much better in the morning that he decided to spend the next evening in the same place. He has continued the practice not only through the sum- mer and {all months, but every night in spite of the winter’s storm and bitter cold. The result is that now he enjoys robust health and is do- ing more work with greater ease than was ever possible during his prev- ious history. Those who are predisposed through weakened constitutions to disease should spend the greater portion of their time in the open air. As an occupation, farming and gardening cannot be recommended too highly. In fact, the Wand of the population from tho country to the city should be reversed and people would pro- long their lives and increase their en- joyment if they would spend more time in the fields and woods study- ing Nature’s hecrets and learning the first principle of life. namely. 'how to keep in good health. CONSUMPTION AND DISSI PATION. {It was Joseph Cooke who said that "dissipated,” mea'nt " dizzyâ€"pated,” which was his way of emphasizing an important hygienic truth. To weaken one’s system through any form of dissipation is practically sui- cide. It is difficult enough to sustain good health with the best of care; yet, many people keep very late hours. deny themselves adequate r st, gorge themselves with indigestible ood,poi- son their systems with spirituous drinks and destroy their physical vi- tality through participation in all sorts of questionable amusement and actual vice. If one were anxious. to prepare his system for the germs of tuberculoshs or consumption, it 'would be difficult for him to select a more direct method. The disease germs do not fasten themselves readily upon healthy organs, especially when they are supported by pure and strong blood, but they make disastrous in- roads upon wealeened organisms when the system is, for any reason, in an enfeebled condition. Alcoholism is re- sponsible for predisposing a great many cases to pulmonary consump- tion. {Even the children of alcoholic parents are particularly susceptible to tubercular diseases. Those who plunge into all forms of dissipation become exceedingly careless as to their personal habits, particularly with reference to cleanliness. This condition makes them doubly suscep- tible and at the same time highly dan- gerous to those with Whom they come in contact. Dissipation means weakness,weakness means disease and disease means death. A note of warn- ing cannot be sounded too loudly or too long to this generation to ab- stain from weakening the body and thus avoid becoming the victim of “The White Plague.” that instead 0! pa 1: to the eldest it will be equally di ed bethen all HE THOUGHT IT \VAS A TROM- , BONE. A parish beadie was lately much exercised at the appearance at a strange old gentleman. who, when the sermon was about to begin. took an ear-trumpet. in two parts, out of his pqcket. and began screwing them The beadle watched him until the process was completed, and then, stealthily going up, he «whispered; Ye manna play that Mre. If ye date, I’ll turn ye oat! toggâ€"t be: r. When property is held under what I knofin u gravelkind it. means Int {mm-d of passing to the cidest To be Continued. IN GOOD HEALTH. ,'or more cabin passengers with meals the wages of the conunander. her oflicers and the chief engineei {help to swell the list of expenses. :The commanders of the German ships receive more pay than those of either the American or British lines. IAside from their regular wages. ‘which range from 81,500 to $4,000 a year, they have a share in the earnings of their ships. 0n the iBritish lines the captains receive :from $1, 500 to $6, 000 a year with- :out perquisites. If, at the end of Ithc yeai, a British comnmndei' s ship has met with no accident, he gets a bonus The Biitish lines gthink this system of reward has a itendency to make commanders more icnreful. The pay of an engineer on Next to the cost of coal is the ex- ‘penditure for wages. The board of the Deutschland's crew of 557 per- :sons, the cost, of providing her 700 â€"' _â€"v 'ards. The laundry bills for a, single {trip vary according to the number ’of passengers carried, from $300 to ’8500. There are only two ships in ithe service that do their washing aboardâ€"the cruising yacht Prinzes- :sin Victoria Luise and the excursion :steamship Auguste Victoria, both of [which have electric laundries. 1:11pm Dec-Ilse In the “wily at the Republic Alarms Frenchmen. A few years ago that. volatile and and patriotic French statistician 'Jules Bertillion (author of a system 101 identifying criminals and expert .witness in the Dreyfus case) emitted a doleful cry which should have startled his count1y111en. lie ex- claimed that the 11‘1eneh people and :the I‘ rench language weie doomed to :‘ea1ly extinction, that in 185 9 the glong declining birth rate had fallen 1below the death iate, and that them had been an actual loss of popula- tio11.Fiom the beginning of the past scentury the birth rate of 1‘ 1ance had Ebeen steadily falling, While th1 re had :bcen no appreciable decline in that 5of the other European nations. The :F1ench tongue had ceased to be the ilanguage of diplomacy and of polite society 1n other lands. Although at {the beginning of the war of 1870 ‘Fiance and Germany had the same 'number of soldiers, in 1895 Gernuny “was able to put in the tield twice as many men as France could com- !mand. M. Bertillion also noted that ;tl1ere had been a corresponding fail- ".ure to increase the value of 11e11ch .exports because there was no growth ,of workers. It was printed frequently just. later the swift Canal-den came out that they were not paying ships. Thi! was believed“ by representatives of â€"' v vtâ€" vâ€"wwvuv - V. the German lines. but it is not so. The sea express. even so mighty a coal Consumer as the D'eutschland. does pay. and pays well, in the sea- son when tramc is the heaviest on the Atlantic. It is estimated that it costs the Hamburg line about 845.000 to run the Deutschland across seas. The largest item of ex- pense is that of coal. She sends through her four monumental tunnels every trip vapour representing $5,000. Then there is the bill for lubricating oil. and the cost of the ship's immense laundry. In the sen- sons when the cabins and the steer- age are crowded, the ship's washing usually consists of nearly 24,000 pieces, including table linen. blank- ets. sheets and the coats of the stew- the German lines ranges from 81,200 to about $2,500 a year. The pay of the British engineer does not. differ materially from these figures, but he also receives a bonus if his engines run without accident. during the year. DEGENERATION OF THE FRENCH. That there are Frenchmen who realize this declining tendency is ap- parent from the occasional eil‘orts to reverse the tide, as when the Govâ€" ernment has been urged to give a bonus to persons who marry, to place a prohibitoryfiax on bachelor- hood, to bestow prizes on the moth- ers of twins, etc. To promote marâ€" riage (and especially the union of men and women of superior physi- que), the‘late Count de l’ierrecourt has left to his native city of Rouen his entire fortune of ten million francs, '6'n condition that every year a bonus of 820,000 shall lre given to the tallest man and Woman who shall marry each other. A knavish-Imking fellow was one-:- cbarged belore a magistrate with stealing a pair of trons." rs. The. evidence against him not being charged beiore a nulglstrulc wuu stealing a pair of trousers. The evidence against him not being strong enough to convict. him. he was acquitted. after a patient inves- tigation of the came. The accused, however. to the surprise of every- boiy. remninoad in the, dock. Thinking he 00qu not hear, or did not understand the mazistr-ztex decision. the. lawyer who had been de- fending him to‘ud him he wears at lib- erty to go about his business. if he but! any. Thu man. however, Izhook his head slightly. but did not move. “You are «the-charged. “'hy don't you go ?" {Inked the lawyer. By thin tuna" the court mus nearly . accuwd, leaning for- My waft. I amv'le add thick. '11: well I'm not 3 cantipedeg \vhazn I am in the dentist's chair I do not mains a (was; I thank my lucky stars I'm not A hilppcpotamus. then car-class porter: smash my trunk. I do not rave and rant: But mentally I say I'm glad ‘I'm not an elephant. When my new shoes are In!“ and “Shh. “And 23‘9““! WW“- “I'cz'm't leave the dock txu an we witnasaes against me are gone. Why? asked the man of law. Because at the trousers. answered the other. Don't you understand? Most certainly I do not! said the solicitor. What about the trousers! Only. this, sirâ€"I've got them on! EXPENSES OP 00m LINERS. DANGER AHEAD! TH E oprnnsr. nnd my opinions and want o-very oth- er man to have his. 1 believe ths time is now here when [armors should use pedigreed or thoroughbred miles all this time and I believe that they shmild start with the kinl that they like the best and try to improvts their s-tmk by breeding to the, sum-e kind every time. Than they will bécoms thoroughly acquainted with thnir peculiarities and know hmvto breed bettor farm stock. While I believe in Shorthorns. I do not. wish to quar- rel with them who do not. 'l‘hnro in room for all ih.‘ improved breed. in this country. They In“? a mis- sion to perform; that is to exterm- inate the scrub. because he is un- profitable and he is ungainly and not pretty. The only way for this coun- try to keep this lead in commercial- ism is to neck to breed the best of all kinds of live stock and breed it‘so generally that we can raise it cheap- While I In financially interested in Shorthorn cattle nod stud'usd the. mom closely than any other kind of fgrm clock and believed them to b. the par excellance of tarmara' cattlo (or use on our farms by the snail farmer with. his two or more cows. a. well a: (or the breeder who has 11“ hundreds. and th‘! western ranchman with his thousands. writ-es Mir. 'W. 3.. Wills. While I believe this to be true. [can see vafue tn ul! other breeds of cattle. horses. hogs, sheep, mum; and poultry. l have my pr“ __1 --' BREED THE BEST OF LIVE STOCK. er than the nations of Europa can. We do not wish to mine live stock just becauge it is live stock. but. to help us make the farm pay. [or the profit there is in it. and as ”)1! pro- fit is much greater in any of the im- proved or thoroughbred mock we should all work together to rout. ths scrub. Most all farmers hwe : longing for lb? things beautiful about them and especially when thvy ran make the farm pay better by having beautiful things about them. and what is more beautiful thm (in. horses. tine cattle, [inc hogs, fine sheep and fine pcultry. and hav'mg all 9! 9n? kind. not nlonglpls. _ Th» wry best is none too good to: th‘ firmer. The time has now com~ when on our high priced Lands the farmer cannot afford to handle the scrub stock. but to breed the very best and than tnko good care of it. CH U RN! NG ADVICE. CrtMm should he rhurnod at a. low a temperature as poavitlze a“ have the butter name in from one. bull to one hour. \Varm vmam and rapid churning mean a large quantity of buttrr lost in the buttermilk. :1. well ([8 soft butter. which is hurt to handle after it comes-z. 'l‘h'.‘ ('hurn should I)? stopped when the butter in in a granular condition. about one- twelfth of an inCh 'in diameter. I! «burned more than this it will b‘ im- po-sible to get the butter (evenly washed and salted without Spoiling tlltxn grain. When a piece of good butter is broken. it ahoutd h'me the appearance of broken cast iron. and not the ulvy. greasy-looking article that we often we at the astoro. Whoa th.1 butter granules haw. reached the right. sine the butter-milk shout?! be drained off. and the buzt‘r thorough- ly washed with pure. clean water, at a temperature of 5') to 6) degrees Fahrenheit. This should be con- tinued until the water cominn from 'a. A marine captain. desiring to repri- mand some chronic growlcra in him corps. arranged tor compmuts to b; made after morning parade. During parade. having previously nomd the grumble”, be ordered them to tight- en their helmet chin-straps by {but links. Of course they obeyed. \Vhan complaint tune came the men cuuld no.1 open _their mouths! come as soon as thy public anonuon is drawn to the advantagn of keeping sheep. and it becomes a habil of heap- ins dogs, every one of whivh is sup- ported at the coat of keeping of at least five sheep. And when this {act becomes generally recogniz:-:I the sheep hopping habit will be general. the butter ceases to hum a milky up. pearanoe. Faith. the cap'n's an nisy man in- tircly. mitl one. whose Iansc of fun was pivot against tightened atraps. civin' us iv'rythinz we nut [01‘ the An orderly officer. on a day when ch: n-strapr. wore. loose. naked the Yes. sir. the spud. ain 't dono. ans. wered the muri no. \Vhafl «M (II. subaltorn. The open. Iir. reputed the man. Whatt done: he mean. sergeant? ask- ed_the‘pu‘ul_od young officer. 0h. live he Want. bit. returned tho 021'an . llc moms tam“. TOLD OF THE MARINES.