The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

base t 6 e rayad eh soon ApD thr xopé 18€ nts, and the theory the famous German ted the theory preâ€" d by the Canadlan ) ()¢ )01 in ubt § THEDBY W an t i str pr w heatâ€"£r ; had re 16 h )D The b» fragile, vith two th of an d reacdiâ€" now 0Câ€" principal } States, regions able Orâ€" in W 10 901, an recei ved ‘Hesela® to haye n1 ))0,004 + wou!l Â¥y York insec dAirec nvade il habâ€" infest ® ro 1J . much heatâ€" »neced imatâ€" l Â¥ Uu Y ork ONCE ‘a t aly OFls a bx O)Slis LE n<«4 mbar of 2M1 h P 1A 11 al f¢ Pr "Oh! My goodness! D‘ye hear that?" Mr. Damer exclaims, with such a sudden outbuest of delightâ€" eA laughier that even Captain Lacy has to join in it. "There‘s a bit of Saron keenness for you! Detectâ€" ing me» in a ‘bull‘ in less than twoâ€" twos! Gillian, my dear, we must make an Irishwoman of you." Amé# Cant. Tanax sn‘line still with speech about being "charmed to make her acquaintance." "But I knew your mother, my _ dear, twenty years ago," be adds, after a pause, his manner altering visibly as he gazes at the girlish face. "You‘re very like her, only prettier," and at the glimâ€" mer of a sunny smile in the bright blue eyes, and the deferential acâ€" cent of pleasing gallantry, Gillian cannot forbear to smile brightly in returnâ€"the more so as both smile and accent seem so pleasâ€" antly familiar in friendliness. "Oh, dear me!" Lady Jeannette says, â€" remonstrating, with frigid gayety. * Can yonu not _ say something less trite than that to your beil> cousine, Mr. Damer ? Every girl knows she is rather like her mothor, amd every girl considers she i@ rather proittier than her mother ! Dear little Gillian"â€"with a caressâ€" Ing condescension, as toward . a small, frightened _ childâ€"" will form most erroneous opinions, I fear, of Irish wit and courtesy, unless she defer jadgment." _ flls V If there be a hidden challenge in this speech, Bingham Lacy _ perâ€" ceives it and quietly takes it up. "There is not the least hope," he says, calmly, "that Miss Deane will defer judgment. She has passed sentence on each one of us already." "How can you te.l?" Gillian says, shyly, but laughing at the languid hopelessness ol his tone. "By instinct," bhe answers, solâ€" emnly, and Gillian laughs again ; her heart growing a little lighter, her spirits rising, for this dreaded Captain Bingham Lacy seems mereâ€" !vx a very handsome, pleasant, easyâ€" tempered young man, and life at Mount Ossory seems far less of a formidable destiny than it has apâ€" peared half an hour ago. "PBut sentence can be reversed," Gillian says, archly. "I trust mine may," he responds, with such very evident meaning that Gillian biushes asâ€" well _ as laughs, and glad of _ a . diversion, rises quickly as the waiter places tho last dish on the table, and Miss (‘Neil comes forward and stands hvmbly waiting at the foot. "Don‘t form an opinion of any of #%4 in a hurry, my dear," Mr. Damer urges, graveiy. "You can‘t form a fair opinion of any one in a hurry, my dear. Wait until you have been x month or two in Ireland, Giilian, before you judge us." _ _ _ * "I have formed the highest opinâ€" ion possible of Irish kindness and courtesy already," Giilian retorts mischievously, and Captain Lacy smiles under his moustache, with an attentive look in his eyes. "I am sorry, Mr. Damer, I mast ‘wait a month or two to havre that opinion confirmed !" 2C 3 And Gillian â€" wonders exceedingly why so florid and jovialâ€"looking an eclderly gentleman, with such merry blue eyes and humorous an expresâ€" wlon, should greet her with such a stately bow and a coldlyâ€"formal speech about being "charmed _ to make her acquaintance." "But I knew â€" vour â€" mother. ffl'b'fi"&%*W#“M*fli#*#*%é*i******mflm*‘ ° Th C = £{ Gillian: $ ; the Coming of Gillian: j renances in an extreme case like this, and you did quite tight in so gracefully acknowledgâ€" ing your obligation to Mr. Archer, wy love! Quite right! Of course," whe adds, laughing again as irreâ€" pressibly at the absurdity of the Idea, "it would have been a very different matter if Mr. Archer had been illâ€"bred enough to imagine you wished him to dine with you!" *"*But, of course, I did _ wish him to dine with me!" Gillian perâ€" gsists mutinously, while she str.ves to smile away the displeasure that embarrasses her, and the flush that deepens in her checeks. "I should not have asked hiny if I did not!" The inquisitive and coldlyâ€"rebukâ€" ing smile on Lady Damer‘s patriâ€" #glan face grows colder, and â€" she remains utterly silent, as if in inâ€" ability to make a fitting reply to §’ A Pretty Irish Romance. ; MMWW&WW "My dear child," she ejaculates, | 4 brighter light in his eyes, answers with a fow kiugh, as of irrepressiâ€" with his courteous, siight bow and ble amusement, though her f wellâ€"bred deference : presses x *LORE _ Rer fAC@CXâ€" | .«*We must hope that Miss Deante o consternation, "you surely | will choose to become an Irishwoâ€" did not invite a young man to dine | man." with you without even a chaperon ! And Gillian, blushing girlishly, and You surely are jesting, dear !" slx‘yl_v, tryln_g' 10 e.v':.\,de the compliâ€" "Indeced I am not, Lady D i uu,nts she is receiving, glances toâ€" Cull am not, Lady amer, ward Anne O‘Neil with a swilt arch llian _ answers, bravely, â€" though | smile. tke color is mounting to her temâ€" ' She cannot avoid an involuntary ples. â€" "Mr. Archs 5 . |start as she glances, and thus atâ€" Lake t.. Archer had most k,"](“" tracts a passing attention to the aken the frouble to order dinner | person whom nobody seems to notice. bere for Miss O‘Neil and me, when | But when they look there is nothing be discovered that we should be deâ€" | unusual in Anne O‘Neil‘s deterentla} layed here o hk & , |attitude, the pose of her slender tal Avesmere_for a few, hours until the |fioure, Her slightly drooping Head lin. was clear, and he kindly called | and downcast face. to see if he c muld do anything more | It has come and gone like a flash. for us, soâ€"â€"‘ ("Tho flamine wrath af those dark eves. "Oh, I see, dear! Oh! I quite unâ€" derstand now," Lady Damer interâ€" rupts, smiling still, but quite in a difiecrent toneâ€"*"L quite understand vow. One must disregard loes conâ€" albilit y such a And three ; and use Iyreland never seen waiter ent the arriva 1€ 4 na, never seen George Archer c seen Lady Damer, when the er enters to â€" announce firstly arrival of dinner, and, secondly arrival of Mr. Damer. 1 Gillian â€" wonders exceedingly 1Spi NJ mak ech. in has just arrived at ations, equally fervent that she had never seen ver seen George Archer, Lady Damer, when the Kss ~H 6 0% ‘"Yes, love, I did," her ladyâ€" ship answors _ arching. those delicate, black, lineâ€"like brows of hers, and bhalf closing her eyes, as in the langour of indifâ€" ference. "I thought you had said quite enough and more than enough, before in acknowl~Agment of Mr. Archer‘s services; more then enough I assure you, Gillian, love. Nothing is such bad style as effusive gratiâ€" tuda and nttorlv nssadlsss |= *b "I had nothing whatever to do with ordering the dinner, Lady Damer," she says curtly, almost disâ€" respectfully : and (Gillian, between astonishment at her tone and astonâ€" ishment at Lady Damer‘s tacit proâ€" hibition of any explanation {rom herâ€" self, remains silent nntil the gentleâ€" meno have gone downâ€"stairs to the smokingâ€"room and coffee has been brought in, which Lady Damer driuks black, with the addition of a tiny glass of Chartreux. *"And upon my honor, my dear, 1 must compliment you on your selection of dishes," Mr. Damer says.enthusiastically, drinking his third glass of sherry, and pourâ€" ing out som>e port as the sweet course is put on. " Very few girls of your age would know how to order an admirably choson little dinnerâ€" egad !‘ ETT TW . ETFYT ET TIORTT mUy "y CC RI 3 "lorâ€"" when Lady Damer openly lays her hand on the girl‘s arm with a significant pressure. * Hush ! yor modest little girl," she says, sweetly ; but the expression of the cold, brightâ€"gray eyes looking into hers is one that Gillian can neither understand nor summon up courage to defy. Miss O‘Neil just â€" raises her black eyes with a flash in their glance. "*Oh! there is no credit whatever due to me," Gillian says, quickly, "I dare say," Lady Jeanette says, with the most gracious of smiles, leaning forward to bring the light of her approbation io shine on silent Anne O‘Neil at the foot of the table â€""I dare say that Miss O‘Neil helped you with her advice, Gillian, love. I know that Ann> is a perfect genius in gastronomic matters." "Wretched liqueur !"_ her ladyship says, sipping her coffee, however, as it she likes it very well. "Will you not take some, Gillian, dear? No? No ? It really is an improvement to cafe noir a la Ballyford, L assure you. I do hope you have dined tolerâ€" ably, Gillian dearest ? The dinner was not very bad. 1 **‘~*k though I had no appetite whaterer." [(| {i CGIO@ ‘"And Mr. Damer thought the dinâ€" ner was good," persists Gillian, in her innocent, straightforward way ; "and I wished to tell him that it was Mr. Archer who ordered it, Lady Damer ; but you, I thought, prevented me.‘ Firstly, what sort of a dinner would Lady Damer call "very good"? Secondly, how much would Lady Daâ€" mer eat when she confessed to "hayâ€" ing"" an appetite ? prinj "You dear little ingenue!" her ladyship says, with her shrill laugh. "I am so pleased !" { "I enjoyed immy unsuer ‘ver‘;‘ much, for I was very hungry," Gillian says frankly, though. shyly, whilst she mentally ponders over two more puzzling questions. Mr. Damer, indeed, has accopted his young cousin‘s _ invitation instantly and cordially _ ,.confessing â€" he "Tfeels quite ready for dinner." But Lady Damer, though noâ€" one partakes more heartily of soup, «alâ€" monâ€"kedgeree, roast lamb, â€" roast chicken, souffles, and vanilla cream than herself, yet no on> ignores the possibility of being vulgarly hungry with more wellâ€"bred indifference than her Jadyship. The dianer on rather informal, than Gillian had be. She cannot avoid an involuntary start as she glances, and thus atâ€" tracts a passing attention to the person whom nobody seems to notice. But when they look there is nothing unusual in Anne O‘Nelil‘s deferential attitude, the pose of her slender tall figure, her slightly drooping head and downcast face. It has come and gone like a flash. ‘The flaming wrath of those dark eyes, the fierce scorn in the compressed lips and rigid features, which Gilâ€" lian has seen one moment since; the flaming wrath, the bitter scorn in Anne O‘Neill‘s face as she looks at Bingham Lacy. * How she must hate him," Gillian thinks, with a throb of her gentle heart. "It even enrages her to see him friendly with me. I wish she would not feel so, Mr. Archer seemed to like Capt. Lacy very well." _ _ But later on in the evening Gilâ€" lian finds fresh causes still for puzâ€" zled speculation, and a multitude of wondering fancies and imaginings respecting her new associations. The friends who have all so kindly come to welcome _ herâ€"Lady _ Jeannette, Mr. Damer, and Captain Lacyâ€"have all dined with her and Miss O‘Neil, at (Gillian‘s _ earnest request, and the dainty little dinner has been suppleâ€" mented by other dainty dishes. " We must hope that Miss Deane will choose to become an Irishwoâ€" man." And Gillian, blushing girlishly, and shyly, trying to evade the compliâ€" ments she is receiving, glances toâ€" ward Anne O‘Neil with a swilt arch smile, CHAPTER VI the whole, though has been pleasanter expected it would "So ho is !â€"so he is !" he says, eagerly as before. " Gentlemanly, well educated, wellâ€"bred, ay, and wellâ€", born, too, Gililian! And handsomeâ€" didn‘t you think him handsome, my dear? There‘s not a man in the nutw hbhog e baottae coagk off~s paâ€" "Well, but now what do you think?" persists Mr. Damer, so carnestly and excitedly. as he takes her cool little baud in his bot, strong fingers, that Gillian grows a little afraid of him. "What is your cardid opinion of him now, as an honest, good, sensible girl? jomwe, now, my dear," he urges. "* 3 thowfht him a very agreeable, gentlemanly man," Gillian says, reâ€" luctantly, and trying to avoid AMr. Damer‘s bright, expectant gaze. "I did jedeed, sir," Gillian _ says, slimply, but nervously, wishing that Mr. Damer would not stare at her so hard and look so pleased at â€" her answer. "I don‘t know indeed," Gillian says, laughing a little, and wiehing afresh that she could refrain from the silly fashion of blushing at anything and everything. which makes her look so foolish and ombarrassed. PA r She laughs, though she is frightâ€" ened next moment by the lurid light of smothered rage that gleams in those same blue eyes. Deep,. purpleâ€" blue â€" Odyes like George â€" Archer‘s, though neither so clear nor as steady as his. "Lady â€" Damerâ€"be canonized," he says, through his closeâ€"shut teeth, though he affects to be amused. "So you shocked her, my dear, eh? You shocked herâ€" by recoiving â€" George Archer too graciously, eh? And you thought it was kind and gentlemanly and attentive of himâ€"now didn‘t you, GHlian ?" "So he isâ€"so he is," he goes on, hurriedly, his face flushed and radiâ€" ant with excitement. "Kind and genâ€" tlemanly. That‘s him. A fine, handâ€" somo young fellow, too ; isn‘t he now, my dear ? You wouldn‘t see a finer fellow than George Archer in a day‘s walk. Now would you ?" "Afraid that you would think Mr. Archerâ€"hadâ€"had presumed a little," Gillian says, rather falteringly, for she feels that her statement cannot but be disbelieved, "and that I was wrong to ask him to dinner with Miss O‘Neil and myself, Lady Damer was quite shocked, T1 am afraid," Gillian says. taking heart of grace to laugh as she looks up in Mr. Damer‘s blue eves. He comes in slowly, with a rather preocceupied air, which is not altoâ€" gether due to the scented lozenge which he is suckingâ€"Mr. Damer alâ€" ways carries a supply of those scontâ€" ed dozengesâ€"when, as he is hallâ€"way across the room, he sitddenly discovâ€" ers that Gillian is alone. sitting in a low chair, gazing into the fire. "I didn‘t know, my dear," he says, hurriedly, in an eager undertone, "that it was Mr. Archer who orderâ€" ed dinner for you, did you?" Itâ€"it was rather kind of him, now wasn‘t it?" Then suddenly and _ apprehenâ€" sively swallowing his lozenge as a now unnecessary preventive. "What iy the matter, my dear?" for Gillian has started up in excited annoyance, and he sees the hot flush on her cheeks and the tearâ€"wet eycleashes. "Nothingâ€"nothing !" she says, alâ€" most sharply, "only that I think it was very kind of Mr. Archer to call here on me, and very kind of him to order dinner for me." "Lady Damer was afraid I wouldn‘t be pleased," repeats Mr. Damer, in tones of exceeding dubiousness, as much as to say that that is certainly an incredible statement. _ "Now, did she ? Now, what was it Lady Damer was afraid I wouldn‘t be pleased about 2" "So it wasâ€"so it was," assents Mr. Damer,. in the same eager, suppressed toneâ€"*‘so it was. my dear! Yery kind and thoughtful, and all thatâ€" now wasn‘t it ?**" ‘"Yes, indeed," _ Gillian _ answers, warmly, and gazing at him in surâ€" prise. "I am glad you think as I do, Mr. Damer. Lady Damer was afraid you would not be pleased, I think." *‘*Never mind, love," herâ€" ijadyship says presently to Gillian,. as she rises and adjusts her voluminous mantle of lace and satin over her high, thin shoulders. "I can quite see," she says, with her cold little pitying smile, "that one must guard against over trustfulness and amiability in your case, my dear child." But somehow the cold little smile and the pitying, deprecating Accents make the tears of mortification start to Gillian‘s eyes, and she sits rebuked and ashamed, and more than all, angry with herself for exâ€" periencing either one or the other feeling without just cause. Present case, since Mr. Archer was the obliged person." "Anne, will you pleass come with me whilst I finish dressing?" _ Lady Damer continues. "IL think Mr. Daâ€" mer will order the carriage directly." But they have hardly left the room when Mr. Damer enters. He comes in slowly, with a rather preoccupied air, which is not altoâ€" gether due to the scented lozenge And her ladyship laughs again, the prolonged, low, shrill laugh of inâ€" tense amusement, and Giliian crimâ€" sons painfully to the roots of her h.’llr. i Once more she glances at Anne O"Neil, wondering how she can enâ€" dure to sit there pale and composed, counting her face stitches. And Lady Damer‘s eyes follow â€" Gillian‘s, and detect her sympathetic glance, though Anne O‘Neil does not. . "So you see, I hops, dearest," Lady Damer safys, in tones of corteimptuâ€" ous indifference, yawning again, "why I objected to your bringing that worthy but uninteresting perâ€" son in as a topic of conversation ? Besides, to tell you the truth," and there is a stecly spark of malice and meaning glinting through her ladyâ€" ship‘s pale, long eyelashes, "as I canâ€" not but consider that Mr. Archerâ€" worthy and respectable a young man as he is"â€"and the interpolation is gallingly insolent in its contemptuâ€" ous liberality of opinionâ€""has preâ€" sumed on his position in some degree, and _ as I know â€" Mr. Damer to be a very proud and exclusive man, sensitiveiy proud, I may say, where the women of his family are concernedâ€"I really thought, Gillian, my dear"â€"this very slowly, with a sort of reluctant smile and the meanâ€" ing glitter through the eyelashesâ€"*I really thought you had much better leave me to tell my husband of Mr. Archer‘s vigit, and Mr. Archer‘s kindâ€" ness, and your sweet gratitude, you dear little innocent soul !" "Assuredly, my dear," hor ladyship says, yawning. "Mr. Archer was simâ€" Ply acting in Mr. Damer‘s place as it is his duty to do. He is Mr.Damer‘s agent, and landâ€"steward, and all that sort of thing, you know." "I know," Gillian says briefly, glancâ€" ing at Anne O‘Neil sitting at the taâ€" }»le and crocheting in absorbed siâ€" ence, ‘"‘The obliged person," repeats Gil lian, amazedly. * Te "As long as I have those leiters of yours, and as long as I recoliect a certain scene on a certain evenâ€" ing, last December twelveinonths," her ladyship says, with the cruelest of little malicious laughs, whilst her cold gray eyes are bright and vengeful as a lynxâ€""so long, Miss Anne, ‘gentle Anne,‘ isn‘t that it ? â€"I think I must regard your pruâ€" dence and discretion with doubtsand suspicions !" Apd ihen it is that Anne O‘Neil has turst into that bitter fit of weepingâ€"those gasping, â€" hallâ€"stifled sousâ€"tThose burning tears of shame azxd omguish, that have left their traces when she enters the sittingâ€" room a few minutes after, and tries to avoid the very sight of Gillian Deane â€"Gulian, the fair youag heiressâ€"the gizl whose path is ali suushine and prosperity. % "The milkâ€"white fawn Who is all unmeet for a wife, Who has but fed ou the roses And lain in the hss of life!" The girl who will never know an ungratified wish that wealth can buy for herâ€"The wealth that can buy <for her the dearest, proudest h(;pe of another woman‘s blighted life. Anne‘s face grows ashy pale, but the large dark eyes blaze as fiercely as Lady Damer‘s as she confronts her. "Did you not know he was in town and had actually been insolent enâ€" ough to come here and order dinâ€" ner for my guest ?" her ladyship deâ€" mands, her pale grey eyes glaring with a yellowish light. "How dare he attempt to defy me? How dare you?" she says, more â€" scorn{fully. ‘"‘Though I can imagine what preâ€" posterous ideas have impelled you to annoy me by such contretemps ever since you tried to resist my intenâ€" tion of bringing Miss Deane to Mount Ossory ! I told you two months a%c» thast I should bring her, and I told you a week ago that you _ should go and escort her, by was of wholeâ€" some discipline for you, Anne; and I have done both, you see." "Yes, you have. But I chose to go and fetch her, or I should not have gone. And I have brought her here safely, and performed your wishes faithfully, and you have no right to taunt me, Lady Damer." "I have the right to ridicule you as a fool, and a romantic, unwomanly fool, who _ would have _ seriously compromised _ herself only for my common sense!" Lady Damer _ anâ€" swers, deliberately, waiching the effect of each word she utters, and enjoying it. + And all the long, narrow, bluc white teeth gleam in a cruel smilé "I wish you would not give yourself the trouble of disbelieving me, Lady Damer," she urges, in a lower, humâ€" bler tone. "I assure you again, 1 knew nothing of George Archer‘s intentions until he was announced by the waiter." Anne‘s proud, straight figure seems to suddenly shrink as in repressed pain, and her thin hands holding Lady Damer‘s bonnet twitch neryâ€" ously. all his insolence and assumption, for certain reasons peculiarly his own," and the fine, but rather wrinkled, skin tightens over her sharp, wellâ€" cut â€"features, until Lady Damer‘s visage looks as if it were cast in steel, "and you connive at it for reaâ€" sons peculiarly your own, as I am well aware!" "‘Thank you, Mr. Damer," she ansâ€" wers, with a slight smile, and whilo Gillian looks at her earnestly, wonâ€" dering if Mr. Damer knowsâ€"knows that she is the happy, fortuâ€" "This is your doings !" her ladyâ€" ship has said, pallid with rage, all but the pink stain on â€" each cheekâ€" bone. " This is all your doings, Anne O‘Neil, and you are a treacherous, ungrateful creature! You connived at this meeting between Gillian Deane and George Archer simply beâ€" cause you had discovered what my real wishes were, and that I never intended they should meet except by accident." "They met by accident,, Lady Damer," Anne replies, briefly. ‘1 deny it," her ladyship retorts, with scornful promptitude. " There could not have been an accident of the kind unless you permitted it ! You connived, I repeat, at this escapâ€" ade; Ican call it nothing else. Mr. Damer encourages (George Archer in nate girl who is handsome George Archer‘s sweetheart, she notices something _ very unusual in Anne O‘Neil‘s appearance; she has been weeping bitterly. her hounds than George. Splendid, limbs "A fine fellow! A fine fellow as you‘d find from Carrick{ergus to Cape Clear!" he says, hall inaudibly. "A lucky girl who will have George for "You‘re a little~ darling!" Mr. Damer exclaims, very hoarsely and shakily, half smothering poor Gillian with a bearâ€"like hug, and two or three rough kisses, very alcoholic in flavor ; "you‘re a darling, honest, outspoken little girl, so _ you are. And he‘ll be a lucky fellow who has you for a sweetheart !" ‘"Mind, Anne, you‘re to sit inside. Either Lacy or myself will sit with Doyle. Dillon will come with the lugâ€" gage. *That‘s just it, my deari You‘ve just expressed it, my dear!" Mr. Damer reiterates; " ‘handsome and power‘ully built,"â€"ay, that‘s just And Gillian‘s hot, redâ€"rose blushes at this ecstatic speech have hardly paled, when Anne O‘Neil hurriedly enters the room, to look for Lady Damer‘s glove. The glove is founrd just where her ladyship has uropped it, and Anne is darting away again, without raisâ€" ing her eyes or addressing Gillian, when Mr.Damer speaks to her. what he is ! A fine fellow! A fine fellow I" Gillian looks up in alarm and surâ€" prise at the sound of tears in the husky voice, at the sight of tears dimming the excited blue eyes. a sweetheart, Gillian, my dear! Eh, don‘t you think so ?" "Yes, indeed," Gillian says, laughâ€" ing and blushing, so foolishly! Anne O‘Neil does not blush. But she has hardly uttered her reply, when she gets cause to blush in good earnest, from mingled terâ€" ror and amazement. "What a curious thing it is," Gil CHAPTER VIL Paid in Fuil. Every editor has received them, says a writer. The postmaster sends them to the editor, but the postmasâ€" ter is not to blame. For instance there was a man named Tim Short who sent us three notices to stop his paper, he didn‘t want it any longer. We wondered what was the matter. Upon investigation of our subscription list we found Tim was short‘ $2.50. He had never paid a cent and he stopped the paper as a matter of economy to us. _A few evenings ago we stepped into a church and Tim‘s melodious tenor rang out clear in that soulâ€"stirring song, "Jesus Paid Jt All." He might have been mistaken, but his earnestâ€" ness impressed us. The next day we sent him a receipt in full, begâ€" ging his pardon for not knowing that he had made an assignment of his liabilities to the Lord.â€"Northwest Magazine. "I have no doubt that many deaths fro.m electric shock are brought about in this way. In an idle moment a person will catch sight of a switch, a wire or some other heavily charged bit of apparatus and a strange deâ€" sire to touch it will come over him. In a moment of weakness he gives way to it and the result is instant death. We frequently read of acâ€" dental deaths from electric shocks when there is no apparent reason why the vietim should have touched » live wire. I believe that such cases are attributable directly to this inâ€" fluence." A phase of this subconsciouns idioâ€" syncrasyâ€"as it might be called for want of a better nameâ€"has been developed by the use of electricity as a mechanical force. Many people have a desire which they hardly can control to touch electric machinery or wires, even when they know that the wires are charged with a deadly current and that to touch the machâ€" ine means instant death. Fear the Temptation. An eloctrical engineer, in speaking of this strange â€" impulse, says: "I have known instances where elecâ€" tricians actually had to turn and run frony a machine to prevent givâ€" ing way to this peculiar influence. Not loug ago a man who was emâ€" ployed to sit and watch the switchâ€" board in one of the London dynamo shops fell a victim to the influence. As he felt the desire growing strongâ€" er he, moved his chair back from the board. Instead of getting used to the work he became more afraid of it Each day the desire to walk up and . touch one of those switchboards grew stronger. At the end of two weeks the young man reâ€" signed his place. He could not stand the strain. It required all his will power to restrain him while on duty and at night his nervous system was sa upset that he could not sleep. He realized that to touch any one of the switches before him meant instant death and his only safety lay in getâ€" ling away from the board altoâ€" gether. For she is a sentimental little girl, this luxuriouslyâ€"reared, potted heirâ€" ess, with as loving and sympathetic a â€" heart As ever throbbed in a fair young breast; and the landscape she #ees for the firt lim» in the beauty of a summer‘s morning, as she gazos out of the open window of her rcoms at Mount Osscry is fair enough to fill a sternâ€" er sou! than hers with mingled sadâ€" ness and pleasure. Larly in the st1l, csilvery light of dawn and the twitterings of the birds in the dewâ€" wet â€" trees, Giilian has suddenly awoke from confuse3 and perplexing dreams of her journey the day beâ€" fori, and the peoplis whom she met at the end of it, after tossing about restlessly for an hour, unuil the sunlight streams through blinds and curtains and fills theroom with brightness, the youag lady _ rises and commences her tuilet, without waiting for or summstciag any one. Those wao have climbed mountain precipices or viewed the surroundâ€" ing country from the summit of a lofty observatory or building need no reminder of the sensations that overâ€" came them on such occasions. The desire to leap to the earth below has been well nigh irresistible, and after their retura to the level of the earth a shudder at their escape from an awlul death has passed over them. Somewhat akin to this impulse is that which â€" seems absolutely to touch a dangerous object. In many cigar stores there are little autoâ€" matic cutters provided for taking the tip off of the cigar by simply pressing the end into a small round opening about the size of one‘s finger. It is surprising how many men will poke their fingers deâ€" liberately into these cutters, alâ€" though they are perfectly aware that them will have a piece of the flesh nipped off. Any cigar man who has one of these cutters on his case will toll you stories of such people that will surprise you. There seems to bo a strong tendency in the huâ€" man race to "monkey with the buzzâ€" sa w." was a gloomy, barren country â€"all mountains and lakes and bogs and stone fences. Why, it looks just like England, except for those beautiful purple mountains rising up there to the left, and the rather wild patches of furze in blossom and funny little crooked fields shaped anyhow, with heaps of stones and clumps of trees in the middle of them. No, it doesn‘t look like England after all, it has a desolate, sad look through all its beauty, bright and smiling here, and dark and glocmy thereâ€"poor, dear Ireland." She has no maid oi hor owaâ€"~the Eodgravian damsel wuo has Iuthorto buttored Gilian‘s bootsand gloves, uxd brushed her hair, havieg asclined to acccmpany her young mistress to an "outâ€"ofâ€"theway piaec in the middle of that awilul country where they shoot you as soon as look at Fears of emotion dim her wistful, dark eyes looking on the neglected beautyâ€"the forlorn loveliness of the illâ€"starred country. you!" i. e., Ireland according to Miss Simms. lian thinks, wonderingly, "that I should have always imagined Ireland Minard‘s Liniment Cures Distemâ€" (To b> Continued.) ONTARIO ARCHIVES TORONTO He has to content himsell with sombre colorings, or be accused of disturbing the peace. 4 J pi;t:k \'(:“ is out of the question, no matter how muddy his co exlion may become. aupl As for covering up by a careless waiter no 1 R ing £36 5s. â€" The clerk at the Crowm® Office is fain to be satislied with a humble grataity of hall a gnineu.‘ loss than you would tip your boy aÂ¥W Eton or Harrow. â€" But this modera= tion is only apparent. . Me pocket® two guineas for what he calls pettrt expenses, and when the Bishop takes, his seat in the wouse of Lords h# claims no less than £14. The total amount of fees payable on entering a bishopric, made up of these quaint details, is £423 198. 24. Curates for whom the Episcopal Berch is on the distant, peradven~ ture unapproachable, horizon will re= cognize, with secret pleasure, that the high estate has its drawbacks. Inm parish annals there is a wellâ€"knownr slory of a gifted clerk on the occas sion of the visit of the Bishop giv« ing out a paraphrased version of the hymn : Why skip ye so, ye little hills, ant wherefore do ye hop ? # Is it because you‘re glad to see Hig@ Grace the Lord iâ€"shop ? s That is questionable. _ There can be no doubt skipping and hopping «figâ€" uratively, of course) go on at tha Crown Office, the HMome Office, tha, Oifice of the Lord Great Chamberâ€" lain, in the Archbishop‘s offiges, in: the precinets of the Dean and Chap= ter, and eke at the Board of Greeg‘ Cloth, when a new Bishop is nominâ€" ated. . The exercise is more vigor=; ous when an Archbishop comes to the: throne, since in his case the fees are doubled. £ He may not wear flowers or ribâ€" bons in his hair, no matter how bald he may become, The feathers. in his cap are as nothing from a decorative . stand= homnt, . * * ©><< * X * _ Me can‘t edge his coat slceve w1TR a fall of lace to hide a scarred or maimed hand. M His friends would smile if he _ disâ€" guiged a pair of frayed trousers with graceful little shingle Nounces. _The poor thing must shave every other day, or pose as an Anarchist. Moralâ€"We‘re glad we‘re a Lkelpless woman,.â€"Phildeighia 1ecora. s He cannot put a pull round his elâ€" bow when his sleeves wear through. about the coppers® .), being nomage fees to be distributed among the her= alds and the Earl Marshal. On the Bishop taking his seat in" the House of Lords. gentliemen in th4 Lord Great Chamberlain‘s Office fob £5. The Cathedral boliringers get‘ £10 10s. for jubiliation on the cereâ€" mony of enthronisation, the choir be« ing paid £6 17s 44. On the same happy occasion the Precentor draws £10 10s. and the chapter clerk £9» 14s 8d., this last in addition to £21 684 Rd.. his fees on the Bishop‘s election«, The Archbishop‘s officors are not: backward in coming forward to con= gratulato the new Bishop. The Secâ€" retary bringing the Archbishop‘s fiat, for confirmation collars £17 10s. The" Vicarâ€"General draws foes on confirms ntion amounting to £31 Os. 10d., with £10 5s. to spend on the church where, the ceremony takes place. _ Nine guineas go to the Deputyâ€"Registram as fees on mandate of induction, the, customary fee to the Bishop‘s seo«! retaries payable on such occasion be« inc £236 5s. â€" The clerk at the Crown® MSMM%Z& SOZODONT TOOTH PO 25¢ Large LIQUID and POWDER, 75¢ At all Stores, or by Mail for the price, HALL & RUCKEL, MONTREAL a perfect liquid dentifrice for the On his installation the new Bishoyg of London had his expcrionce enlarged in the Tield of foes,. It is a high honon to be gelected for a seat on the Epis= copal Bench. The honor bestowed, it secems the most natural thing in the« world to tako the seat and there an end on‘t. But. that is only the begin= ning of it. As everyone knows, whilst the gift of a Bishopric rests with the Prime Minister, the nominee is electâ€" «l by the Bench of Bishops. Virtuaily; by command of the Sovereign, the Crown Office issues a conge Welige, ‘This means money, which has ta come out of the Bishop‘s pocket. The warrant costs £10; the certificate, £16 106,;; letters patent, £30; the doequet, 22. The Episcopal BencB, having duly elected the nominee of the Prime Minister, return the name to the Czgown Office and the Roypal assent is signilied. This involves duplication of the charges, with the difference that the cost of the cepâ€" tilicate is increased by 10s, to make it even money. Toeth »« Mouth Man, Poor Man. 1 assent, alities, Th m in for 1 l knowled d him is t1 kt comes manding 4 In M a on ts a stain made with a jabotâ€" 25° M