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i be begun t Tuesday, hing charâ€" EAQ district, this place, ithe _ court, re members _ from the Brockvillo Pitcher as ing to the UI not be epresent.â€" re theirs your cor as Chair estiga tio through investiga te amw tone _ wil effort t« "We shal hole mat to secure He said ommit tos int. Percâ€" nlion that upon the the per â€" . He patd minister®s wmittee, ined from e â€" cas>, We a: Â¥e know ey ente Te â€" an em _ hig o perfor ir chure} res, "Mes nistakes " sday . the cirecum= RML n t V IGGEST E6 IN. ure the ma Mr. M in M ilter m D) D+ M H dJ liek young far "Yout â€" a Georgs A; Iy, and ; "Fortunat owr:m,,m that. In f low opinic MA "What I’= «_ "Here q1â€", Here 8p pr nle in a gul color riseg &unburnt sl ®mile as wel Erows softe tle girl, a p Sweet, kind Â¥yoice," he sa @stness "an won‘t she lead me a dog‘s life of it if ho finds it out ! he adds, with a wlicrouslyâ€"sudiden change to alarm w1 dismay in his face and voice, Georeg Archer laughs a little again enite of himself. ‘There is nothing to find out, sir," < says, decisively. "Her ladyship can @ame me if she likes for daring to nlrude on her visitor. You knew noâ€" bing of my Intention of coming to ‘@llyford, Mr. Damer. You can tell r ladyship that, on oath if need be," > adds,. scornfully. "And my having «llod on Miss Deane just means this lease to hear me out, sirâ€"that I l never intrude on her again, or ‘(tempt any interference with Lady amer, nor Bingham Lacy, nor Miss eane in any way." You won‘tâ€"what ?" Mr. Damer reâ€" cats, slowly, his face almost aghast ow, with disappointment ~nd surâ€" rige, *"You don‘t mean to say, corge, that you‘ll let her slip ‘rough your hands ?" ‘ I can‘t let her slip through my ids when she is not in them."‘ Corge protests. reddening ; "and as H wleam in "Ch * | expand and swel ter. "Fh, George, dog ! You‘re a sh: But (George A; brow darkens in rown at this epr Jraws away a lit f the elder man‘ © smile. 1 were never more out in your i a guess, sir," he says, and his rises a little through his clear, irnt skin, and his blue eyes as well as his lips, and his voice s softer. "She is a pretty litâ€" irl. a perfect little lady, with a . kind manner and a gentle _ he says, with suppressed earnâ€" 8s, "andâ€"sh> is a hbhundred times ood for me,. sit." ta Ey m derad ©CH »1." he interposes, burriedly. Have you seen her? That‘s all I ant to know," Mr. Damer interâ€" pts, his brow fairly puckered with ughter, his eyces shining, his large, morous, Irish mouth fairly openâ€" x in eager delight. . One word, my boyâ€"one _ word. ive ye scen her?" ho reiterates. 1 hawe." George says, â€" laughing xedly ; "and L WAKK tto Lob won "Ah, then, George, you to say it‘s you !" Mr. Dan with a gagn» ol astami breath. "H 1 her aide=d a â€" whistl F iW I am concerned, sir, she never :+++-l-+++-|- 4 A Pretty Irish Romance. i % 4 %-l--!’"WM’Mmm « CHAPTPDP Tw % "”***"’M"""a mion of myseli{ this minute." t for ?" Mr. Dainer asks gruifâ€" re‘s my glass of punch at ou‘ll have a glass with me, * Waiterâ€"anotherâ€"â€"* sir, ~Iâ€" won‘t. thank ut Mr. Damer hea 1 hear nothing of ; lanation. He slaps th as he had slap &s himself back in ADVICE TO OLD MAIDs Mac®ts t s t o s P ig4 Nire your gentleman friends »dia for a Monâ€"soon. ir m nto a suppresse mands, eagerly, his speech quite inted by excitement and delight, is floridly handsome, Celtic face @® redder, and his blue eyes glitâ€" and his sound white teetb all needn‘t he exe] The Eh ?" he mutt his broad chest butâ€"wait, sir. I must : interposes, hyrfledly. lder man‘s anticipation Proad chest beglnning'it-u 4 swell with slient laughâ€" ‘eorge, my boy, you clever & H CHAPTER 1y tell me another sylâ€" ims, when he can get a! ha‘! ha! My lady eâ€"camp done as clean e. Holy Moses ! me a dog‘s life of it it it !? he adds, with a en change to alarm is face and voice. c laughs a little again LA M Butvedhia s Ad :. sharp customer." Archer‘s wide, fair in â€" an embarrassed pmmendation, and he little from the grasp in‘s hand which is on won‘t, k§p4 7 4 4 3 1 13 omm _ mmmmmmmmmmemmmmeme i"i--l'i***flw**m****ifl**-bii*“ii-**“fl mutters, in under says, â€" laughing ant to tell you, Coming of Gi"ialâ€"l' Lead packets you never mean Damer exclaims, eyes glitâ€" teeth all There is silence for a moment, while Mr. Damer thirstily drinks the rest of his punch. and George moodily draws lines on the table cloth with a pencil, until he suddonly rises with a hopeless shrug o[ his shoulders, as tell "So they are," Mr. Damer says, huskily, wiping his brow. "Let the dead rest, can‘t you?" Your mother, Heaven bless her memory, is dead threeâ€"andâ€"twenty years, your father is deadâ€"to you." _ "George, I told you years agoâ€"the day you wore twoentyâ€"oneâ€"five years ago, George; I told you, once and forever." Mr. Damer says slowly, in low, trembling tones, "that your wretched father. never did your mother that wrong. That you woere lawfully born, the son of lawflullyâ€" married parents. Heâ€"he was bad enough; don‘t lay that sin to his charge, anyhow,. forâ€"he didn‘t deâ€" serve it, George." "Then, if he is living, and if he is my lawful father, why can‘t I know more of him?" George demands, imâ€" patiently. "I always thought when 4 was a child that I was an orphan. 1 always say now that my father and mother are dead." . good tea. It is | _ "Yes; I know from what yon have l told me," George answors, bit terly ‘f:uul resentfully still, and the color deepening in his cheeks, "that Iam ! the son of a miserable father and a miserable motherâ€"â€"* I "On your #oul, don‘t you dare to speak a word against your mother !" l the elder man says. almost furiously in his fierce, suppressed excitement. bringing his clinched hand down on the table. "Your mother is an angel in heaven, boy ! Never â€" mind your poor wretch of a father; you‘ll never be troubled with him eithe?r in this world !" "Well, my mother being an angel. is the bost part of my ancestry, I have no doubt." George says cynicâ€" ally. "Heaven forbid I _ spoke against my mother, sir, whatever may have boen her faults! But as my father has been always unknown to me, and is to remain unknown to me, and as 1 conclude he is livingâ€" then, I know he is disgraced. I can guess now. I suspect the name I bear is my lega! name ; sa I maintain I am nobody, and, in the law, the son of nobody." His last words wreii'vc“il:lrdl,v andible, and he drinks off half the tumbler of punch at a draught. ; 1 said she was very pretty !" | Gieorge _ retorts, with a â€" slight | laugh, "and better than pretty, 1 | think she is good." "And you couldn‘t make up your mind to like her well enough to marry her ?" Mr. Damer persists, in _ the same low voice and dull manner. l "My dear sitr, L am not an ass, even | if I have ears !" George says, imâ€" patiently and sharply. "‘Who am I, ’what am I, that 1 should marry a pretty heiress, a girl who will have the best men in Tipperary after her ' like her shadow ? Who am I that I _ snould think of marrying at all ?" he _ adds, more sharply, with a flash of his eyes like a gleam of blue steol. "I ami nobody. and the son of nobody," the young fellow mutters, his handâ€" some face downcast, his sunny eyes dark with resentful anger, and bitâ€" ter lines coming on his fair, wide brow, and around his kindly lips. "I‘ve had a good education, thanks to you, . and I have as good a situation as I could possibly expect, thanks to you; but beyond thatâ€"â€"*" ‘"You owe me no thanks at all. Ive told you so as often as I‘ve hairs on my head," Mr. Damer interrupts, in rather unsteady, husky tones,, "and I have told you all [ can tell you about your father and mother, andâ€" and I think you migat stop talking as vyou do about them.* mneiihidillih â€"2in0ud s c ’ "Because I couldin‘t ‘make up‘ to an innocent girl like that, and teil her lies !" George _ says curtly. "I couldn‘t begin dancing _ attendance on her, and talkirg ‘soft nothings‘ to her, and trying to befoot her into the idea I was in love with her, when I don‘t care iwo straws for her! I couldn‘t swear and yow all _ the things that girls expect to hear unless _ I _ perjured myself, and I couldn‘t marry her for the moneyâ€" bagsâ€"no, nor any woman, any more thar I could turn informer !" There is noâ€" answer to George‘s rather excitedlyâ€"uttered assertion, and a little surprised, he looks across the table ~keenly â€" at Mr. Damer, who sits with one hand covering his evyes whilst ~he stirs the disk of lemon in his tumblor of punch round and round, in a s‘ow, absent Tashion. "You said she was rather goodâ€" looking ?" â€" ho questions, in a low tone. ‘ udn t endB on diadardaai‘s cce 222. 90 *k i 1 51 0 t _ "You‘re not going to cut off like & leprehaun, when I want you to sit and talk to me for af minute or twroâ€"so you needn‘t think it !" Mr. Damer says, so sharply and obstiâ€" nately that Geerze thinks Lady Damer‘s sneering advice has not been altogeth»r unnsceded, an i rathor regrets the tumbler of hot whiskey and waterâ€"it is evidently not the first ‘ mild stimulant of which Mr. Damer had partaken this afternoon. "What have you got such a low opinion of yourself for, that you‘re afraid to make up to a chit of_ a Eirlâ€"a London tradesman‘s daughâ€" ter, and a daughter of my own seeâ€" ond cousin, poor Carric Morton, to boot ? Eh, George ?" he demands, the changeful Celtic face now lowerâ€" | ing and full of gloom. ‘ All grocers. you," â€" George say s, "I am going now. _ I man a_t Quin‘s Hotel 27 } when I want you alk to me for al minute you needn‘t think it !" s tumblor of punch round in a s‘ow, absent Tashion. she was rather goodâ€" he questions, in a low RS unnecessary n t think it!" Mr. harply and obstiâ€" ‘rge thinks Lady advice has not nseded, an i rathor er of hot whiskey evidently not the nt of which Mr. , determinediy [ have to see ; at six o‘clock. my own secâ€" Morton, to he demands, ‘now lowerâ€" to go "*Heaven bless you, sir!" George says, softening n little at the fervent tones. He does not â€" glance back as he leaves the room and hurries out of the house, glad to quit the precinets of the Imperial Hotel, so he does not " Goodâ€"bye, my and heaven â€" bloss says. earnestly. "I always keep my promises, sir," the young man answers coldly. "Goodâ€" bye, sir." "Ay, I know," Mr. Damer answers, vaguely. " Well,â€"you‘re going. George? (ioodâ€"bye, my lad. You‘ll keep your promises, George ?" "I must go now, sir," he says, putâ€" ting on his hat, "and Lady Jeanâ€" nette will wonder what is keeping you. It is just 6 o‘clock." ‘"That‘s my boyâ€"that‘s my boy !" he says, his _ tones unsieady with glad excitement. But George‘s smile fades, because, somehow, of that same glad, fathâ€" erly pressure of the hands clasped on hisâ€"because â€" ofâ€" the fatherly gratefu‘ pleasure shining out of the blue eyes that gain on him lovingly and admiringly. And a strange, slight thrill of suspicionâ€"faint _ and swilt as a gleam of summer lightningâ€"passes ovar him as he draws his hand away. 4 1 "I promise you, sir," (George anâ€" swers,. very â€" sardonically, " that if Miss Deane prefers me to every other man in the woeld, and tells me so plainly and unmistakably, in words and deeds, 1 will marry her and please you." And in spite of being rather rufâ€" fled in temper, he cannot avoid laughing as Mr. DBamer seizes Foth his hands in the viceâ€"like grip of his own, and shakes them vehemâ€" ently. to "Is that a bargain, George ?" Mr. Damer demands, excitedly, â€"jumping up and seizing his right hand cagerly. "If the little girl falls in~Jove with you, will you marry her, and please me ?" a foult t" R, "I‘d sooner be a fool than a knavye," George retorts grimly. "And when the young lady is ‘breaking â€" her heart‘ for me, W marry her." "Not if she were breaking her heart about you, and begged you on her knees to take a hundred thousand pounds along with herâ€" self !" questioned Mr. Damer, sneerâ€" migiy. "You oughtn‘t toâ€" talk like agely. "I won‘t have buy me and keep me on her money !" "Well, 1 won‘t â€" 'lhnn, il that‘s plainer !" (Gieorge says, rather sayâ€" reorge _ adds, scornfully., "I never met such a fellow, though he isn‘t bad in other ways,. But he means to marry Miss Deane and her money, and as I cannot marry herâ€"â€"*" "And Bingham can!" Mr. Damer interrupts. "Bingham Lacy, â€" with his captain‘s pay and Lady Jeanâ€" nette‘s alowance to help to pay for his kid gloves, he can aspire to offer his hand and heart and all his _ worldly goods. the penniless fop! and you can‘t ?" "Because I had no business to asâ€" sume the position of a friend and equal when I can never meet her as such," George says decidedly, and I had no business to try to distance Bingham or make any impression on Miss Deano‘s mind in my favor, for Bingham means to marry her. Bingham â€" would do anything, or give up anything in exchange _ for money, _ I _ believe," George _ adds, scornfully., "I never met such a fellow. thonrh ha i@n‘t i was your agent London girl thinl as a bailif{ or a as gracious as if I of the earldom." "Well, I can‘t s and ungentiemanly objects Mr. Dame cally. "She didn‘t object at tle soul," Georgsa say s, more. "Though Anne O I eitndinal)? Iheniadiedoati‘s ~tn dsn it daliison dn A .1s 9 2 fiveâ€"pound note, George, that the little heiress falls in love with you â€"come !" k "I won‘t mike any bets about her," George says, shortly. " And I am sorry 1 made a fool of myself to talk about her as I did to you, and to Bingham, too. â€" And I am orry I made an additional fool of myself to come here to day Just for the fun of outwitting Bingham and her ladyship. It all came into _ my head in a minute alter I had been talking to you ‘about her yesterâ€" day evening," George says, twirlâ€" ing@ his hat about, "and I thought it was the best joke possible to start off here this afternoon and introduce mysell to her, to spite Lady Jeanâ€" nette, an‘t have the start of Bingâ€" ham. And then, when I intruded myâ€" self on her, and the poor innocent little girl reccived me so sweetly and courteously, _ and thanked _ me _ so gratefully, I tell you I never felt more ashamed of mys>lf. I felt I had done a mean and ungr-m.]mnuuly thing,. sir," he says, gravely, but holding his wellâ€"shaned line a "No, sir, I won‘t !" George â€" says, with an emphatic nod. "I am too proud. I won‘t be looked down on by the girl I tnarry !" "Hang it, man |" Mr. Dameor says, angrily, but the sparkle of â€" humor coming back to the bright blue eyes, which are gazing up at the young man‘s goodly height â€" and shapely, muscnular limbsg "she couldn‘t ‘look down‘ on you unless she stood on a table! You‘re six feet in your socks, and you‘re handsome enough to set 2ny girl‘s heart ablaze. Bet you a Nt m mevernes® c 1l i o u iwu. Nospitality are too overpowerâ€" ng." es t | An ugly sounding word comes from under Mr. Damer‘s grizzled beard. "And you might turn the tables on her and her fop of a; nephew, and you might get what they are striving for, and snap your fingers at them forever after _ andâ€"you won‘t!" he says in interjections of disappointment. say8, briefly, but s she did, I really a accepting. Her la and hospitality are h'g.” 4 one who dismisses a painful and useâ€" less topic. "Are you going, George," Mr. Daâ€" mer says, looking up, but not enâ€" deavoring to delay him now. "I‘ll see you toâ€"morrow, °I suppose. _ And, George, thore will be dinner parties and so forth at Mount Ossory now, while Miss Deane is with us, and if my lady is civil to you and invites you, you‘ll come, won‘t you ?" "She won‘t invite me, sir," George says, briefly, but smiling ; "and if she did, I really don‘t care about Qimse you, sir, George anâ€" very â€" sardonically, " that if eane prefers me to every man in the woeld, and tells plainly and unmistakably, in and deeds, I will marry her ‘our agentâ€"and I suppose a girl thinks that is the same iliff or a hangmanâ€"she was ous as if I had been the earl can‘t see h it see how the. mean ranly conduct came in," amer,. rather sarcastiâ€" APD boy, â€" Good luck you!" Mr. Damer Her ladyship‘s civility to try to or make Miss Deano‘s Bingham meaus a all. poor litâ€" smiling once Neil told her I suppose a is the same rich â€" wife pensioner Aos Sine *Wcs flms ‘‘An agent collects reonts and manâ€" ages landed Ddroverty. I thoueckt." cusses an uninteresting subject out of pure amiability. "Now,. have you any idea what an agent is, love ? I supâ€" pose not," she says, smiling very sweetly, and arching her delicate, narrow eyebrows very witti‘y. ‘"Well, I know you are always enâ€" thusiastic about poor Archer. Bingâ€" ham, dear," she says, airily and careâ€" lessly. "And as _ you choose to make a friend of him, I am sure I don‘t object. It was most obliging o‘ him. certainly, to call on Miss Deance. He is Mr. Damer‘s agent. I suppose you know, Gillian, dear ?" she continues in the same airy, careless manner, aso one dis. "Inningsâ€"already !" are the two words he utters mentaily, as he draws _ his long, _ fair â€" moustache through his fingers, slow!y and closeâ€" 1y, as men who have handsome mousâ€" Llaches and handsome hands are apt to do, in deep perplexity. But her ladyship Jeannette Damer â€"though her goldâ€"rimmed glasses are daintily astradeo of her highâ€"boned, haughty noseâ€"does not perceive anyâ€" thing beyond the fact that a contreâ€" temps has occurred, that there may. be danger ahead, but that, eventâ€" vually there must be success. ‘ And Captain Lacy, detecting that questioning look _ and sympathetic smile, swilt as they are, pushes back his chair and draws a long breath, as a man does who suddenly perceives a fact. l But still it is an honest, half amused, hallâ€"vexed malichousness that looks at Giliian out of the handsome hazel eyes, and she smiles a little, while the shy blush deepons. ‘"Yes, I thought him very pleasant and very kind," she says, ltimidly but clearly. t *"So he is !" Bingham Lacy answers, "one of the best fellows in Ireland." ""Indeed !" Miss Deane says, rather coldly. But Captain Lacy‘s keen eyes deâ€" tect that there is an assumed ould-‘ ness, detect the glow that darkens the hue of her dark eyes, and the softening of ler proud. littie mouth, as she plances swiltly at Anne O‘Neil, sitting on a distant sofa. whither she had retired, apart from her employer Aand her friends, as befits an humble "companion." ‘"This must please her to hear him so well spoken of," the slmpleâ€"hearted little girl thinks in her cager symâ€" pathy, vainly seeking a responsive look upon â€" Anne â€" O‘Neil‘s impassive face, with her eyes fixed on the elabâ€" orate pattern of a piece of delicate lace, which she is crocheting with wonderful dexerity. "Indeed," she says, her long, narâ€" row, white teeth all gloaming in that cold, _ fierce Smile, and her sharp, clear yoice in a sharper, higher key. * Mr. Archorâ€"the agent! How very obliging of him! He â€" thought we should be so anxious to have news of you. He really is a most obliging and painstaking person," her ladysh‘p says, with a frigid little gliggle. "I1 am afraid I don‘t appreciate the poor young man as I ought." "I don‘t think you do,." Captain Lacy answers, briefly _ and â€" coldly, looking down as he speaks. "Archer is a vrery good fellow, and a very nice fellow, I hope you think so, Miss Deane ?" he adds, suddenly, addressâ€". ing her with a smile. A slight wave of shy color tinges the soft, Tilyâ€"pale face, on which the evening light falls clearly, and Capâ€" tain Lacy‘s smilo grows rather maliâ€" clous. "auon, j And Gillian, prepared to â€" shrink from the man whom her vivid girlish fancy had _ conjured up as a later editiont of *Barry Lyndon," the suave adventurer, with a winning tongua and polished manners, is most agreeâ€" ibly surprised to see that though Capt. Lacy is a very handsome, reâ€" fined looking young man, very fashâ€" lonable in dress and clegant in bearâ€" ing, he is yet so thoroughly gentlemanly in his quiet, reserved manners, with a frank smile, and a pleasant low voiece, that the susâ€" picious dislike which had been gathâ€" erbng in her heart against him dlisâ€" sipates by degrees. It dissipates altogether a fev minutes later. "I tbave just had the pleasure of ’rocvi\'i:lg‘ another â€" welcome to Ireâ€" land," Gillian says, smiling and steadâ€" fast, looking from Lady Damer to Capt. Lacy. ‘‘Mr. Archer has _ just called to see m»." ‘ But nelther smoothest hypocrisy | nor the most perfect â€" savoir faire can prevent her ladyship from betrayâ€" ing ber _ sudden discomposure, and some fiercer feeling as well, that burns in a crimson flush on her checkâ€" bones, and glitters in her eyes like sparks, "HMere is another sort of a cousin, Gillian, dearest!" her ladyship says gayly. "My nephew, Captain Bingâ€" ham Lacyâ€"Miss Deane." EP S se e o Nt Cns Captain Lacy has, of course, been introduced in the very first minute of meeting. Pss t t BEITCTIUITO INORHUL: "You quite belong to us now, love," Lady Damer says, as her fine, lightâ€"gray eyesâ€"cold and brilâ€" liant as diamondsâ€"gleam â€" on ilâ€" lian, and hep long, sinewy white hand rests on the girl‘s warm, soft arm. "I look upon you quito as my dear little daughter, as well as my cousin," she continues â€" ignoring the fact that Gillian is not her cousin at allâ€""and I hope vou will like ‘your Irish home so well that you will never care to leave it again"; and her ladyship‘s _ clear, sharpâ€"toned laugh veils a little the signifi¢cance of her words. D 3 0000 CCARCCACCECSRCT @00 CPOUGâ€" bled by the sweet amiability of the earl‘s daughter, who opens _ her maternal arms, ‘both figuratively and actually, to the rich London tradesman‘s daughter. She quite takes posesssion of Gillian in the most delightfully gracious manner. seXr _ 4 +4 â€" ! But upstairs, by this. time, poor little timid Gillian has found a friend, a protectressâ€"nay, a mother, as it seemsâ€"in Lady Jeannottna Tintowsess © Cqll y 0 . CCar 350 HVIHCE, dB PV seemsâ€"in Lady Jeannette Damer ; as that stately and highlyâ€"bred dame bestows on the gentle, unasâ€" suming girl the gracious tenderness oflâ€"let us sayâ€"a royal relative. She condescends toward herâ€"Gilâ€" lian feels that gratefully, though fl.m.ii rather embarrassed and trouâ€" No qi wn c e i oo ORCE nE does not hear the muttered words that end in a groan,. "Ay, while I‘m Harry Damerâ€"your friend and employerâ€"you‘ll say that," he whispers. " But not if you knew the truth, George! No, no, you‘d curse me then! ay, you wouldâ€"you would ! So, you‘ll never know, till you see me on my dying bed, or may be stretched in my coffin. You wouidn‘t Lu(;ve', the heart to curse me then, my ar 4" boy !" seeâ€"does not imagineâ€"the sight of the gray head bowed despondently on botli those strong, trembling hands ; ?See not hear the muttered words TT D VC P Han‘ â€"~lthe agent! How very iim ! He â€" thought we anxious to have news of CHAPTER v. you do." Captain iefly _ and â€" coldly, he speaks. "Archer one disâ€" eW _ and that heckâ€" â€" like Athletic Religion Needed. Religion in Great Britain appears to be taking a practical turn, at Jeast athletic clergymen, rather than able expounders of the word, seem to be in demand. _ An Mustration of this was given only the other day in the dismissal of a country curate because he was not a good cricket player, ‘Though unexceptional in all other respects, hbe had to go, as his vicar was firm in the belief that "what this parish really needs is a good, fast bowler with a break from the abi.â€"Bt. Lonis. Star. To boast is to put a placard on one‘s sell, as, to wit, ‘"Nobody." Each supceriative used after a good description weakens both book and speech, % A microscope for our ishes will teach us those of our neighbors. The . pessimist is deadâ€"l(;ng live the optimist;! Wise women wear their hearts unâ€" der their bodices, not upon _ their sleeves. E B lgut css s t en e C 0 meeY en It‘s all right for a girl to love bhor dog. but it‘s ail wrong for her to expect others io do the same. Smiles are the soul‘s kisses ; and this is not to: suggest that giggling is holy. Men loath gush and love tacifal appreciation. Music soothes, but open windows makes ng," but it is almost universal. Honesiy, truth and virtaus aro only agreeable in the sign â€" lanâ€" guage; that is to say, act, don‘t talk theim. Superstition ing," but it â€" Debts _ anÂ¥u the one owed know. Spilled milk ing about &*t D s ts Bc t c c P d lc s ud n The Lowland regiments are the Royal Scots, Royal Scots Fusiliers, and King‘s Own Scottish Bordecrers, all of which wear trews and helmet, except the Royal Scots PFusiliers, which have busbies. The Cameronâ€" lans or Seottish Itifies wear trews, rifle green tunics and a. shako. There is onlv one Reottish cavalry regiment â€"but it has renown enough: for half a dozenâ€"the Reots Greys, the only regiment which wears the Grenadier bearskin cap.â€"Scottish American, PrCumidarnitios of‘the Seottish regiâ€" ments, There are seven Highiland regimentsâ€"the Black Watch, Highâ€" land Infantry, Seaforth Highlanders, Gordon Highlanders, Cameron Highâ€" landers, and the Argyll and Sutherâ€" land Hyrhlanders. All, except the Highland Light Infantry, wear the kilt and feather bonnet. The facings of the Black Watch are blue, the hackle red, their tartan black, green and blwe, and hose red and black. The Seaforths have buff facings, the hackle white, the tartan Mackenzie, and the hose red, yellow and white. The Gordons have yellow _ facings, white hackie, except in the band, Gorâ€" don tartan, and red and black hose. The Camerons have biue facings, white hackie, Cameronâ€"Erracht tarâ€" tan, and red and black hose. The Arâ€" EY and Sutherland lads have yellow facings, white hackie, Sutherland tarâ€" tan, and red, white and vellow hose. The band of the Mighland Light Infantry, which performs in the pageantry at the BRoyal Military Tournament, seems a puzzle to Cockâ€" a yne. The regiment itself wears trows, and the shako with diced borâ€" der, but the band wears the trews and feather bonnet with red hackle. The feather bonunet and red hackie is snpposei to be the peculiar privilege of tife Black Watch. So it is, as far as the raifk and file are concerned, but not for the band. 1t may interest civitian readers to learn some of the peculiarities of the Sceottish regiâ€" ments, There are seven Highiland regimentsâ€"the Black Watch, Highâ€" land Infantry, Seaforth Hirhianders | Porhaps it is because of worldly ignorance; perhaps it is from eweet sympathy with poor Anne O‘Neil and her handsome â€" lover : poerhaps it is from instinctive pereeption of Lady Jeannette Damer, as she is : perâ€" haps it is for some ocecult, womanly reason deeper than all, but Gillian seems to agree with her iadyship with a pleased smile at once. "Yes, Oh, yes," she says calmly ; "I know, of course, that Mr. Archer was a gentleman. He stayed to tea with us, but he would not stay io dirner, though we asked him." Captain Lacy Starts involuntarily, and shifts his position a little. Anne O‘Neil pauses two or three seconds with her cobweb thread and ying crochet work in her fingers; but Lady Damer determines now â€" to speak plainly, even if the time be far from ripe. / (To be continued. ; SCOTTISH ten still." whoreon, if it please her, Lady Damer can inscribo headlines of daily copies for her pupil‘s obedient imitation. She thinks that Gillian Deanse, fresh from the seclusion of a quiet luxuriâ€" ous home, is utterly ignorant of the world, and that her mind is a "YVirgin in page, white and unwritâ€" i linklUt says, sedately, but meeting her ladyship‘s plercing pright eyes without fiinching. ‘"Quite right, dear," she says, in a gratified tone. "He is not a bailiffâ€"or a low person of that class, you know," this deprecatingly, as though Gillian had suggested it "An agent is sometimes quite a gentieman, and a man of good family. Now, Lord Dunâ€" boyne‘s agent is a retired army major and assgociates with the best people in the county. But then, Lord Dunâ€" boyne has a great deal of property, and his agency is something quite valuable," t Lady Damer has not, it is true, acâ€" tually uttered a syllable to this efâ€" fect, but the impression she has tried to convey as plainly as words can speak is, that Mr. Damer‘s agent is a worthy young man of low origin ; a young man Trom whom her natural class prejudices recoil as from a vualâ€" gar plebeian person. whom she reâ€" gards in the light of a menial, though her nephew‘s masculine generosity chooses to elect him to the place of a friend. And in that speech Lady Damer makes her first false move, as she acknowledges herself in angry desâ€" pair in after days. She commits the error that hard, narrow natures commit when they attempt to measure others by a standard of their own making. She thinks that the shy, gentle girl, with the inâ€" nocent, fawn like eyes, is absolutely without worldly discernment. g:im:gn says, sedately A Tips for All. is awkward, but weepâ€" is folly. diamonds _ antagonize and those others who is not REGIMENTS. } ut "practice" with kes people savage. r a girl to love all wrong for her high _ breedâ€" own blemâ€" to minimize NTARIO ARCHIVES TORONTO t is true, acâ€" e to this efâ€" she has tried s words can 1P dr. Adding to his already Jong list of lnorticul(urul triumphs, Luther Burâ€" bank, of Santa Rosa, has produced a prune without a pit. Years of experi~ ment, years of hard, patient work on the part of the Santa Rosa wizard were required to perfect this latest marvel. The hybrid is understood to be a cross between a plam and a/ prune,. a I Then the late Premier, with an emotion which his strange formal words do not betray, threw incense upon the funcral urns and walked *Jt is regrettable, Mr. Hoshi Toru, that you were stabbed to death in Tokio City Council on the 2ist inst. You had devoted yourseolfl to the inâ€" terests of your country and you were courageous enough to carry out your ideas. You ably discharged your duty to the Seiuâ€"Kai, and everyone was pleased to serve under you, and your merit was indeed very great. Your unfortunate death causes re> gret not only to the Se‘luâ€"Kai, but to the nation at large. In attonding your obsequies, 1 tender you my sincere condolence," When the coflin was placed within the shrine and the fires fed with incense leaped up in the air Margquis Ito stepped forward, and, as is the curious eastern custom, addressed the following eulogy, not to the lisâ€" tening mourners, but to the deat cark of the dead: TSE SIRARPE PC UCOTORY a% MWP of about five hundred soshi, all wearâ€" Ing upon their tunics the Hoshi crest, and the sfraw sandals and leggins, and hats of straw pulled well downr over their features, as the retainers ol old in the feudal days walked beâ€" hind their Jord. : Marquis Ito‘s Address to the De d. J ["C _ iAastern panoply of woe, there must have been assembled some five | or six thousans Japanese gontlemen | in high hats and frock coats, from the shape of whose hats, as well as the prevalence or lack of moth holes in their Jong â€" black garments, you could make a shrewd guess as to when and in what country of ihe Western world each individual of the multitude had made his stadies. outâ€" ride the precinects of the temple, to which admittance could only be geâ€" cured by card, the humbler mournerse were as innumerable as the sand4 of the seashore. As the cortege left the house in Akasaka it was composed of simply the family and a {ew; friends. It grew with every street, and when the coffin reached in» temple the end of the procession was yet sgeveral miles away, 8A Arriving at the templ®, the coffin was carried up to the _ shrine through a Jlane of waiting mourners, preceded by the lotus flowers, the white lanterns and a file of _ Budâ€" dhust musicians blowing softly away upon the ancient sho, or reed pipes, Tilling the air with a ory of lamentaâ€" tion that was horribly human. Diâ€" recently behind the bier walked the adopted son of Mr. Hoshi bearing him a white ancestral tablet, upon which was inscribed the soul name of his father. Then came the widow and the daughter, unveiled and clothâ€" ed from head to foot in white gitk, with drawn faces, whiter even than tho garments that they wore. After the notables and the official« who followed, came a cohert of Mr. ll'osl_nl's immediate "heelers." A body al _.Ske n We neiwn 2 3@ " [ wnite stik robes and green anrd purple sashes, chanted the Buddâ€"= hist seriptures over the remaing enâ€" cased in a coffin of white, unpainted hinoki wood. About the bier the funâ€" eral lamps were burning, fed with the incense that was thrown to the flames by the mourners as they came and went. When the last verse ol the Buddhist canticle died away the proâ€" cossion started for the Khiba Temple, Hoere, inside the temple that was draped with the white funcral flags, the Eastern panoply of woe, there must have been assembled some fixe T77ls U ine morning, in the presâ€" ence of only relatives and friends, the Abbot of the HWoumonji Temple, surâ€" rounded by a score of priests in their beautiful white silk robes und green ard purple sashes. chanted the Buddâ€" hist seriptures over the remaing enâ€" cased in a coffin of white, unpainted hinoki wood. About The Ihlaw Plum Fram. A Pitless Prune Produced. MARQUIS ITo‘s qugEr appress. Over " The Boss of Tokio, Recently Murdered. New Size SOZODONT LIQUID, 25c Large LIQUID and POWDER, 75¢ At all Stores, or by Mail for the prige. HALL & RUCKEL, MONTREAL QUEER FUNERAL CEREMONY a porfect liguid dentifrice for the Teeth » Mouth FRAGRANT Tss 1 Nes t dam of the temple, to could only be geâ€" humbler mournerse e as the sand4 of e cortege left the _ was composed of nd a fow; friends. street, and when no temple the end 25°