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The gray fog that had sailed up the Thames at sunrise, favoured by wind and tide, had come to anchor over Lonâ€" don, and evidently meant to stay. It bhad gradually trans{ormed itself into ul cn _ cce wetwclcrar | ioi ihniecbcsatin 4 PARERPRECTT a Cense masse: Drmuring that wintry dayeâ€"An the City at leastâ€"time had got out of joint. ‘The great thoroughbfares hid become hopelessly congested with beavy traffic. ‘The mails from the country and abroad were consicerably delayed. Travellers who had journeyâ€" ed a thousand miles by lanu and seaâ€" who calculated to reach their destinaâ€" tion at a fixed dateâ€"began to peer out of carriage windows in consternation and blank despair. To many it was a serious matlter ; to some it was even a matter of life and death. * Bu & LERMPREREEM MMRMICE CA CCC L0 ue PPWIID EIEDU UERZ IUIIE! who calculated to reach their destina~| striking another matchâ€"hbe had alâ€" tion at a fixed dateâ€"began to peer OUt | ready nearly exhausted his supp‘yâ€" of carriage windows in consternation | Ringham made out this room to be & and blank despair. To many it W$ | moderateâ€"sized garvet. It was furnishâ€" a serious matlter ; to some it was eVOD | ed as a sort of private office or study. a matter of life and death. | A thick, though somewhat threadbare, The royal mail from Dover to LONâ€"| Turkey rug covered the centre of the don was hours overdus. Among the | floor. A heavy oldâ€"fashioned bureau firstâ€"class passengers by this train ‘stood against the wall, opposite the was a young traveller in a fur ©04t | garret window. Om aeither side of & who sat in a corner of his carriage 1Mâ€" | diminutivg fireplace there was & CuUpâ€" patiently consulting bis watch. Ther® | board, and Ringham expended & match was a small black valise on the Se@t | on sach of these in order to examine at ki« side, and it seemed obvious that '1 them minutely. The locks were turnâ€" this valiseâ€"or, more strictly speaking, | ed in both of them, the keys gone., and tis hidden contentsâ€"â€"occupied bis @!â€" | the keyâ€"holes blocked with dust and most undivided thoughts. _ His l°°klcobwobs; A capacious armâ€"chair was seldom rested a moment elsewhere. If | drawn up near the empty hearth. That the valise had bean possessed of the | chair should be his restingâ€"place for power or will to esoape him, he could | the night. He boited the door. Then, pot have kept upon it a keener ¢UATA!| having contrived to unlock his valise and when the train at last reached | ;n the darkness, he spread it open upâ€" London Bridge, and the traveller steP~ ) on the rug. And now hbe lighted the ped into a cab, he grasped the hand!e | last match The dim flame lit up for of his valise with nervous tensi0n, | a moment the contents of his valise. while in answer to the cabman‘s stere0â€" | The space on one side was filled up with typed inquiry, " W here to, sir »‘ he cAlâ€" | a bundle of foreign bonds, while the led out 3 ‘ other side held a few necessary articles "Austin Friars." of clothing, a sandwichâ€"box, and a At the arched entrance to Austin lflusk of brandy. Friars he dismissed bis cab. . A few The matchâ€"light struggled feebly and paces and he found himself in an open ‘ went: out. Ringham groped his way square. There were mansions on all | to the armâ€"chair, having secured the sides with a distinct look about them | sandwichâ€"box and brandy, and sat | fyromhcrainnen mepar roarerarnem o mek TE TT of bygone days uP P@EmZ TCPX 1 "Ah! that should be the house," he | & muttered while approaching a big corâ€" | ner mansion. "Bad luck ! it‘s past ofâ€" | ; fice hours. But mighta‘t I find Mr.} ; Grinold still at his desk ?" { The house had stone steps, with iron | j railings that led up on eitbher side to , a pair of massive oak doors. These | ; doors shared in common the shelter of | ; a â€" heavy â€" shellâ€"shaped canopy that : , frawned overbead. Under this canopy || there was a gasâ€"lamp; it brightened a . limited circle of =pace, giving a look of || inten«ity to the fog beyond. The | . traveller mounted these steps and stopâ€" ped under the lamp. He took a card from his pocketbook. Upon the card was written, "Mr. Gilbert Ringham, | British and Cairo Bank." _ He now | glanced, with some perplexity at the | two entrances, for there was a broad. | panel between them. upon which was | inscribed 132. It was the address to | which he had been directed, without a | doubtâ€"13a Austin Friars. But which | of the two howes claimed this number ? | Gilbert Riry him lbent down to exâ€" | amine more cloâ€"ely the twin doors. | Upon the leftâ€"hand one he discovered ‘ nothing. but upon the rightâ€"hand door he made out "Anthony Grino!ld" in faded letters. He was about to raise the knocker, when bha noticed that the door stood slightly ajar. "Gool luck!* saiid he. The office was not yet closed, and pushing open the door. which inâ€" stantly yielded to his touch he stepped into the hall. It was broad and lofty, and the carvedâ€"oak panelling was black with age. Uheare ware a aumber of doors. as be could just perceive in the dim light, but they were all locked. Ringh+m mounted to the first floor ; he mat with the same experieince. Mr. Grinold‘s countingâ€"house was closed for the day. He had arrived too late. Gilbert Ringham stood at the stairâ€" case window, that looked out upon the aruare, to consider what would be the LoX ammses Gr+ mibreims in order to find Gilbert Ringham stood case window, that looked s«mare, to consider what best course to pursue in Mr. Grinold with the lea Conse ea® S P ts Mr. Grinold with the least possible deâ€". lay. He had come in all haste from . Cairo upon an errand that demanded . shrewdness and tact. _ He took the. lettwr of _ recommendation from _ his pocket. It was addressed to "Mr. Anâ€" thony Grinold, 13a Austin Friars;" and Ringham had been instructed to delivâ€" ar it to that gentleman. He was to hold no. communication whatever on the subject of his errand with any other person or persons. That had been impressed upon him with due emphasis. Would it be feasible to see Mr Grinold toâ€"night? He put his valâ€" ise upon the deep windowâ€"sill and sat down. _ Where did Mr. Grinold live ? Hie bhad not the remotast conception . He would go forth and take every means in his power to ascertain. He must find him toâ€"night. Seizing the valise and rising hastily, Ringham was about to descend the stairs, when he beard a quick, light footfall upon the stone steps outside, Immediately beneath the window â€" at which he was standing. Next moment | the front door was pulled to with a‘ loud bang. and the key grated in the | lock. A full sense of the mishap was : instantly realized. He sprang to the window and tried to force it open ; but the framework was old. the bolt rusty . and immovable. He peered eagerly out into the fog and listaened for the footâ€" fall on the steps. But no one came in sight, no sound reached his ear. The canopy that hung over the twin doors was some feet below this stairâ€" case window, Cnuld the person who had locked him in be still standing unâ€" der it? Ringham had raised his band to tap on the windowâ€"paneâ€"to break it If need beâ€"when a girl in a dark s 1 v0usospdusss EC EP EEggIT CCC PETUCT AC 2B cloak and furâ€"trimmed hbat stepped from under the great shell. For an instant she raised her face so that the light fell fully upon it, as from a shaded | lamp. and then she turned nimbly on | ber hbeels and was gone. | During that moment of chance Ring-‘ ham lost his head. Instead of tapping ; at the window to attract the girl‘s atâ€" tentlionâ€"much less breaking the pane â€"he bad stared out in pure wonder and | amaze. What a vision! Did the eyes : of man ever before rest upon anything : more beautiful, anywhereâ€"least of all in a foggy old City square? It must have been mere fancyâ€"an hallucinaâ€" tionâ€"or possibly a spirit of the mist that had bhaunted this spot in those lonely. marshland days of centuries $ P 8 se lâ€"â€"-..b:n- Lc cb P MJ P PC P gone by, before even the Augustine friars came to dwell there. _ _ Meauwhile the staircase had become quite dark. Not only had the tof closâ€" ed in about Austin Friars; it was CHAPTER I _G“I'f.';r;_'m"_ ham struck % match, and went down into the hail to make sure that he was actually lockâ€" ed in. All doubt was quickly set at rest : no exit by the frontâ€"door wAs possible. He reascended the stairs with the thought to explore the upper the thought to explore (he UPPC® floors. ‘The rooms conusisted of attics. as he soon ascertained ; and all of the doors of these attics were locked. But im one of the doors he found a key. He hastened to turn this key, though not without a certain sense of trepidaâ€" tion after so many di.sappoi.ntlntint‘t‘l- The door opened noiselessly, and went into the room. «> The matchâ€"light struggled feebly and went: out. Ringham groped his way to the armâ€"chair, having secured the sandwichâ€"box and brandy, and sat down resignedly to consume his frugal supper. At first he fumed considerably over‘ the situation ; but presently, becomâ€" ing. restfu} and refreshed, he hegan‘ to take a more [philosophical view of things. When entrusted with this parâ€" cel of foreign bondsâ€"valued at thirty thousand poundsâ€"he had been ordered to let out no hint that he beld: them, except to Mr. Grinold in person. Had he not acted with intuitive wisdom and foresight after all? By shouting dow!s to the girl under the lamp to come back and release him, he would have incurred a needless risk. _ Had she taken alarm and roused the neighâ€" bourhood, the truth about his confidenâ€" tiah business with (Anthony Grinold might have leaked out. With this:conâ€" soling reflection Gilbert Ringham butâ€" toned his fur coat tightly about him, and presently dropped off into a sound sleep. The red dawn that looked in at the garret window next morning forced Ringham by slow degrees to open his eyes. _ For one hazy moment, while blinking at the light, he had no conâ€" ception of his whereabouts; and then it all came back to him ; the closing of the doorâ€"the lovely vision under the lamp in the old squareâ€"the responsible errand upon which he had come to the bhouse of Grinold of Austin Friars. He rose in bhaste, glancing round the garâ€" ret, curious to inspect it more closely by daylight. Of a sudden his eyes restâ€" ed upon the valise lying agape upon the floor as he bhad left it when his last match went out. A ray of sunlight was pointing directly down upon it. The space on one side was empty. The foreign bonds had disappeared. Ringham‘s consternation increased to a sense of horror when he came to exâ€" iumine the garret door. The bolt was. undrawn. it rested in the socket, preâ€" cisely as he had adjusted it before unâ€" locking his valise. How could the robâ€" | bery have been achieved ? No possible | clue to the mystery presented itselt to his distracted mind. He made a | thorough inspection of the room, withâ€" | out any reassuring result. The walls | were . w hitewashed and bare, and the |flooring was too smooth and securely nailed down to awaken snspicion of trapâ€"doors. The window was festooned with cobwens and the dust and cobwebs «bout the locks of the eupboard doors showed no sign of having been disturbâ€" ed. Ringham gave up the search in pure bewilderment. He weut out upon the stairs: ‘TWhere was #some one moving about on one of the floors below, for he could hear the thumping and skirmâ€" ishing of, a broom. It was an opportune momeat in which to make an exit. While at the head of the staircase, lisâ€" tening. the bells of the neighbouring church clocks caught his ear; and in the midst of these minor sounds that echoed clearly over the still noiseless City, there boomed forth the great bell of St. Paul‘s. ‘"Seven !‘" JOHN BULL‘S PRESENT CONDIPTION, At the present moment the British Empire is fiftyâ€"three times the size of France: fiftyâ€"two times that of Gerâ€" many, three and a half times that of the United States of America, thrice the size of Europe, with treble the population of all the Russias. It exâ€" tends over 11,000,000 square miles,. ocâ€" cupies oneâ€"fifth of the globe containâ€" ing. oneâ€"Gifgh of the human race,. or 350,000,000 people, embraces four conâ€" tinents, 10,000 islands, 500 promon tor= ies and 2,000 rivers..â€"New York Triâ€" | _A farmer at Chrichel, England, is ‘ eccentric in a high degree. All the | animals on his farm, borses, cows, pigs, i and fowls, are white, and he will have THE LARGEST HOUSE. The Sultan of Turkey bhas just built at Mecca the biggest bhouse in the world. It is intended for the accomâ€" modation of pilgrims, and is capable of sheltering 6,000 persons. The next biggest house in the world is Al'lll _ & suburb of Vienna. it accommodates 2.112 tenants. Next comes the three Rowton houses in London, with 800, and 500 tenants respectively (To Bbe Continued.) Vienna. â€" It accommodates s PRESENT CONDITION. the hall he HOW SHE WON. CHAPTER XI.â€"Continued . W hen dressed that night for the ball, she looks very unlike & village maidâ€" en who would be overwheimed by the condescension of any Lord of Burleigh however, lofty his station, O° who would pine away. "‘Neath the burden of an honor, Unto which she was not born." She wears the famous Leigh sapâ€"| phires, and ber rich satin robe is of| the same deep hue, chastened bY drapâ€"| eries of fine white lace caught uP by natural flowers. Her bair is braided high up behind her coronet, and her neck and arms are gleaming with jewâ€"| els. She looks like a quo@en in her own ;n‘ghc. Any iman might be proud to win her love, or even her bhand. I The duchess comes forward to meet her with outstretched hands,and,stoopâ€" ing, kisses her solemnly on the brow. To the onlookers it is as though a seal has been set uwpon hber, that from this time she is received into the bosom of that august family which for cenâ€" péemei dnb d Nppeae y ET PETV C :0 + a d with turies past h: a rod of iron UB ROGII MR RR TTEA ® i To Lady Leigh the demonstration 18 eminently distasteful, and she shrinks away from the caress with an impa~ tient movement of disdain. "Dancing has not commenced," says bn~ memchage â€"ireantousty‘ "Iye â€"have ony "MDancing bhas not comn the duchess, graciously; waited for you." "You are very good." Guessing nothing from away from the caress WItDR 8B "*67 I ~L.s" uid only E tient movement of disdain. "I could only have one reason for "MDancing has not commenced," says that, Lady Leigh,. 1 did not wish to the duchess, graciously,; "we have only | compromise you by admitting, that waited for you." there bad hbeen a previous acquaintâ€" "You are very good." ance. â€" Was I very wrongt‘ Guessing nothing from the coldness| ‘"No, very right. You are always of the reply or thinking perhaps Lhut‘i right," she exclaims, quickly, and then it arises from the dignity and nonâ€"| adds, "I want you to forgive me for chalance which she has so often admirâ€" | so much, Colonel Dare." ed as signs of her favorite‘s high| ‘"Won‘t you cry quits?" he asks, gentâ€" breeding, and good taste, her grace| ly. "I, too, was so much to blame." goes on unsuspiciously ‘ "You saved my boy‘s life. You must "I believe my son is wishing to enâ€"} have thought me a monster of ingraâ€" gage you for this dance. I hope be will | titude to forget that." not be disappointed." "Â¥ou know well what I thought, and. Lady Leigh‘s next words admit of no| think stillâ€"that Lady Leigh is the _mistake. \ most perfect woman to which the world "I shall be very happy to dance with| can lay claim," he answers, simply. Lord Downe later on in the evening;‘ He has ied her into an empty conâ€" at present 1 dare say be has older and| servatory, where the flowers are full more important friends to engage hisbo[ fragrance, and a cool night air is time, ana 1 snall sit out the first few | blowing in. Some minutes they stand y BLCL LCSR | there, musing. Then he speaks again. HETC WV MnE UCCni Lady Leigh‘s next words admit of nol mistake. | "I shall be very happy to dance with | Lord Downe later on in the evening;. at present 1 dare say be has older and more important friends to engage his! time, ana 1 suall sit out the first feow dances." | The Duchess of Downshire is dumâ€" founded, and follows Lady Leigh‘s reâ€" treating figure with angry amazed eyes. Her son, with his vision someâ€" what cleared to the truth, makes the best otf his way after her, determinâ€" ing to put his fate toâ€"the test at once. "Did you mean more than you said just now T‘ he asks, anxiously, as he reaches her side, lowering his voice so that others may not hear. "I meaut all I said," she answers, impressively. . "I searcely understand." "Wili you force me to explain ?" "I should not like to loss what I am so wishtul to win for the want of a few plain words," dhduden dftifveasiiden He migbt guess from her mamnert that there is no hope; but until now evâ€" erything has combined to prove to him that he is invincible, and he cannot learn a contrary lesson all at once. His plain face becomes excited into positive good looks at this prospect of being thwarted. It is the newest senâ€" wation she could have provided for him. "If 1 bad danced the first dance with SCL¢ Nesn Prakecme 4+ somithts in the «CHrâ€" "It 1 bad danced the first dance with you, Lord Downe, it would, in the cirâ€" cumstances, have been construed into an acceptance of your addresses, It would have been unfair to let you for a moment suppose that such a thing might come to pass." is L w t oo oo oA s PCs cce m EERITTS PR CE W es Cl Her face is a pained crimson as she speaks, and his tones are as low and as earnest as her own when, after a short pause, he answers her again. "And your decision is final * "Quite." * Then seeing that it is his pride, not his beart, that is hurt, she adds, kindâ€" ly‘: "Do not trouble about it; it will all come right, and no one knows what bas passed between us. Do not blame me for the publicity. i only, heard the: rumor toâ€"night for the first time. Let it rest, now, and people will forget." "I shali not forget. I shall rememâ€" ber your goodness always. Do you think I do not see how generously you have acted in sparing me the pain of making a proposal only to be rejectâ€" ed? Most women would have enjoyed the trfumphâ€"most women would have accepted me, whether loving me or \not." "Do you think so ill of us, indeed, we do not deserve it!" ‘"Fhen the bitterness is permissable smile. A veautiful blush suffuses her face. l "I bave foresworn my | unphilanâ€" thropic tenets,. 1 do believe in the goodness of men at last." "Happy man who hais taught you faith!‘ ‘he says, gallantly, and, with a lom bow, moves away. The bail goes on, and it is at its height when Colonel Dare enters the room with Mr. Meade. o ig £UOIR TT RGRE AMED W APRTTTCCCC "They are nice rooms for dancing; it is & pity they are so seldom used," says Colonel Dare, looking round him. "‘IThey would not be open now were it not for Lady Leigh." § "Why is that? How do you mean: . sharply. "She is engaged to marlty Lord Downe, and this is the evening of beâ€" trothal, 1 believe. The Downshires are of German extraction, and think an engagement is binding as the marâ€" riage vows." . & y esd uc tecta CEW@y CCICCTY Colonel Dare winces, but makes a bold effort to hide how bhard the blow has UR CCE L "It might be awkward if that idea tecame general. Lovers‘ vows are usâ€" ually made to be broken." _ But the cynicism does not impose upâ€" on the acuteness of the Heathen Chinee. "I believe you were taken yourself with the beautiful ‘shy widow.‘ Why did vou leave Leigh Park?" he inâ€" "I believe you were taken youfr20‘‘, with the beautiful ‘shy widow.‘ Why did you leave Leigh Park?‘ he inâ€" aqauires, banteringly. "Shy widow f" "Yes, that is the name I gave ber. ‘Tell me, Dareâ€"did she ever find you out. t" "I would rather not speak about it, Graver, andâ€"hush! bere she comes." "Let me present you in your proper person," says Mr. Meade, impalsively, and scarcely knowing what he does, Colonel Dare nods compliance. ner that of a lady w er for the first time. “:‘“I’;:l-ydlzivgf.vimiy' I introduce & friend to you?â€"Colonel Dare."" _ _ _ 4 hoii i hn BB butncililoaduir sns P vnL Wt She turns pale, but is too proud to show a sign of the confusion she feels. Her composure is perfect and her manâ€" ner that of a lady who sees a strangâ€" "May I have the homor of this next daince t" 7your,f part only t has.â€"n':i(;a the country TORONTO ‘ with a meaning Colonel Dare speaks so humD‘~ ***"* she is disarmed and murmurs &n asâ€" sent. In anotbher moment they are passing on together, her band rest, ing iightly on bhis arm, leaving the Heathen Chinee chuckling. & i "Lady Leigh, I believe I have to conâ€" gratuiate you. Is it not so t" "On what, Colonel Dare t" "On your engagement to Lord DoWwn®. You have my sincere hopes for yOU! happiness." fa s o in CCE P CRPCCY "Thanks for the good wishes; they are always acceptabie. But the conjecture is a false on>â€"â€"I am not, nor never shall be, engaged to marry Lord Downe." *"Ab !" There is a deepâ€"drawn breath, and then a long silense, which she |s.the first to break, with a laughing light in ber eyes, and mimicking his rather stiff and pompous tones. "Colomel Dare, | believe 1 havo to condole with you." C css "On what, Lady Leigh?" he ansâ€" wers, light hearted enough, now that he knows the falseness of that report, to enter into ber humor. "On the shortness of your memory. It is not so very long since we last met, and yet the other dayâ€"" He inclines his head to her level as she pauses, and his toues are very low when h> replies: . "When may I come backâ€"and te Rollo ?" * The question, in its full significance, falls on Lady Leigh‘s ears like a strain of sweetest music, and she turns away her face lest he should, see the sudden light that has brightened it at his words. "You will have to teach ine, too," she whispers, shyly. "I will teach you both, dear Jenny."‘ "How did you know my name?" she asks, trying, with a woman‘s perverâ€" sity, born perhans of cowardice, to deâ€" fer a little longer the end that is coming fast. He draws a book from his breast coat pocket and opens it at the written suâ€" perscription. mg sn w o hi ies y Pm s 30 ie a ruvege . 295 h h k ra + d t t 1 000 dlith 14 43 90 12 1100 daih Acnidiccs â€" in d e ind ink stillâ€"that Lady Leigh is the ; y y t1 rost perfect woman to which the world to the outuku:ts of the ‘Lan n‘, uhe;e l,lil] an lay claim," he answers, simply. the small Sponish cottages stand siUâ€" | ,_ He has ied her into an empty conâ€" ent and sunburnt, along the narrow | j,, 0[1“;“0!'}’. where the flowers u\re'f.u}l street, is the city cemetery of Key West | m j ragrance, and a cool night &ir !5) writes a correspondent. Near the main | at lowing in. Some minutes they exlundl rta 1 creak» | D* bere, musing. Then he speaks again. | entrance, which is guarded by a creakâ€" us “\\'hc,e'n may I come backâ€"and tea h ing old wooden gate, one sees a cluster | j i‘,’!l‘” s en o ysd ‘of newlyâ€"made graves. They are in the | w _The question, in its full significance, | potter‘s Fieldâ€"the part of the bury=] 8 alls on Lady Leigh‘s ears like a strain | . Bc f swestest music, and she turns away | ‘D8 ground set apart for the pauper | | er face lest he should see the sudden | dead. [These are the graves of the 51 “E_h(tm that his brighten>d it at his heroes who lost their lives in the | t M‘,‘rYo;x. lt Hiave "Lo ‘teach io. "top," battleship Maine in Havana bharbour ( A + O, A a _ r9 she whispers, shyly. on the night of February 15th. There "L will g'ea/ch you both, dear Jenny."lare 42 of them unmarked. Above each “‘IInw did you, know my name t" shelmound of glistening white limestone 3'ka' trying, with a woman‘s perve‘~| gojl a small American flag droops in | ® sity, born perhaps of cowardice, 0 €0"° | ppa frapo . L a t fer a little longer the end that is e fierce sun that ‘beats incessantiy coming fast. idown’ upon the island. The flags arse He draws a book 'from his brpast cout; faded and frayed. When a breeze P ifzi‘:::‘i;agn"m‘“s it at the written 8uUâ€"| comes up from the ocean they flutter l‘t "I have had it all the time," he exâ€" Lo Llaiy S se ted s n o6 in o egâ€" |s clmms.unnd §hen “g"(;“ lh" says YerY | tre otlea?(;xor!"n:un;aii a smalle gl(-;ss & arnostly, "Je ; ‘ling, s a i s ?Nhenn wi?l you’cr:::x:e £o i;;e“tlg be ;I:‘T:gt{gohlet.whwh still holds the discolored | ; the 1 ©‘and withered stems of flowers. " They e lesson that only: love can teach? |\ were put there by a lady from Philaâ€" | 5 She does not speak even then, but she | delphia," said they dnea.my old sexton, | I turns and hides her face on his shouldâ€"|"put [ don‘t know who Ne wAs. Bho l 4 er, and he is more, far more than c00â€" | came here ubouot teu d:ys :la{:r the 1 }ent. Lady Leigh‘s sore and WayWATGC) podjies were buried and put flowers on d eart has found its master at l48t,| q1J the graves. I asked h who shel and she is not too old to begin life! was, l)utgshe f id ho u" P 9 ® again under these new and happier cirâ€"| E:ADED FL?(I'%TNIL!)WI‘I%'WI-‘RS ) cumstances. F xE A. ns . p _ "What will they say ?" she asks, aftâ€" And these, the faded little flags and | er awhile, clix'sping her hands in pretâ€" %}l:et“'lthel‘ed stems of flowers are &“\l i ty dismay. "What will they . say at ha mark the resting place of the | . this sudden ending of a romance of | heroes of whom the civilized, world has w hicl; they have not seen the hegin-lm’:_l (“H‘:lng Slnotfih the f-&l&'llhnlghf--, nming ¢" ly three months ago. There is . "Let them say what they will. _ I| nothing else to tell the stranger who °. care not, so that you are mine." passes through the Potter‘s Field where | i "But there is ?ullo. He may refuse th,;h:e:m "Ib'éhe 1:{:'150 are sleeping. | is consent, and then â€"â€"* 1 pace where the graves are, wAs | "And then [ must marry you withâ€" | evidently prepared in great haste. Near l( cout it," he answers, laughing, seeing the little white mounds on all sides are | no fear of that. "Be content, sweet, unsightly heaps of litter and rubbish. | there is no escaping from the bondage {-l;e(x)-nl;:{mt Su"’,“d; ui old hearse web | «:t lm‘re, it will hold you too . tightlys| panp of l‘):glia:esaga:i(dye(::ylt(.)(::?’h::i! oo close." PV * J ' She lifts hoer face to his, and smiles is gone, and lurching over in a disabled | «it aleh ies Metornetital mm n | Poont sortelen ts Intend o iheors, o et »e as I wis is once, unti c o. | I take up my vows of obedience. Court gfi:th' T?e sexton said it had L’Fce! me over again, dear, because the world | 4, * .t‘”le‘ :“ ;h*" city hearse, but one | l is so censorious, and T should not like | bo(’{ 't' ){{\’eeP own while carrying A | our bappiness spoiled by its spite. B"lit sÂ¥illostan (s otter‘s Field, and there L 1 sov > ( « 6 M l "What will they say ?" she asks, aftâ€" er awhile, clasping ber hands in pretâ€" ty dismay. *"What will they say at this sudden ending of a romance of which they have not seen the beginâ€" ning ¢" © ie weog ies f . .908 y ME E.C "Let them say what they will. _ I care not, so that you are mine." "But there is Rollo. He may refuse his consent, and then â€"â€"* "And then [ must marry you withâ€" out it," he answers, laughing, seeing no fear of that. "Be content, aweet, there is no escaping from the bondage of love, it will hold you too tightly, too clo«e." 3 & uis po ud d eil d lflnllf Unitke the _ Thing Canadians Suppose It to Be. ‘ Remember the Sabbath day. In Berâ€" tlin one is not very likely to forget it. When we read the newest police reguâ€" lations affecting the outer observance of Sundays and holy days. one feels that the Scotch Sabbath is not in it. It is the Glasgow Sunday of Rob Roy when a man might be arrested for idlâ€" ing in kirk time, The first restrictions | quoted seem mild, perhaps even salutâ€" She lifts her face to his, ind smiles fearlessly into his passionful eyes. "Let it be as I wish this once, until I take up my vows of obedience. Court me over again, dear, because the world is so censorious, and T should not like our happiness spoiled by its spite. Beâ€" sides"â€" looking down â€" demurely, ~"I shall not be sorry for the reprieve," He folds her tenderly in his arms. "Let it be as you wishâ€"to the last, Shy Widow !" ary. All noisy trades and callings are forbidden during the hours of morning service so far as they interfere with the Sunday rest. The beer waggon may not wag. and the roll waggon may not roll, the furniture van must not rumâ€" ble down the peaceful streets, and peoâ€" ple may not change houses on Sunday morning. But who that could pay his lrent would want to? Soon, however, we come to a stricter ruling. On Sunâ€" days, days of penitence, a‘qd"ghrongh pc;sion week, private festivities are forbidden if they interfere with such days. Into the house, the police don‘t exactly intrude, but if the different flats fail to agree on the question, then the police right comes in again. And finally, bere is the gem of the whole document. People are graciously perâ€". mitted to tend and water their flowers in their gardens and balconies on any hour of Sunday except the hours of morning divine serviceâ€"then they may not. The moral of it all seems to be â€"either go to the church or keep safeâ€" ly in bed. PERSCONALLY CONDUCTED TOURS. Globetrotleâ€"Did you ever travel on a personally conducted tour? Mr. ‘Meekeâ€"Often. Globetrotleâ€"Whom did you have for manager, usually t Mr. Meeksâ€"My wife. THE NEW GERMAN SABBATH. The F humbly that ind. to conâ€" ‘\GRAVES OF THE EEROKS. Sashfi and Doo Factory. Aaving Completed our New Factory we are nOW prepared to FILL ALL ORDERS PROMPTLY. > We keep in Stock a large quantity of Bash, Doors, Mouldings, Flooring and the differâ€" ent Kinds of Dressed Lumber for outside sheating. Our Btock of DRY LUMRE is very Large 80 that all orders i can be filled. rulwskar Shincles and Lath always Lumber, Bhingles THE DEAD SAILORS OF THE WARSHIP MAINE. Lic In the Potter‘s Fileld of the the City of Key West â€" Faded Withered Flowers Mark the Ing Place. _In other place near the graves is a rubbish heap made up of old halfâ€" decayed baskets, two or three broken tombstones and an old wheelbarrow. MOTHER OF THE TNKNOWN DEAD. Just to the north of the resting place of the Maine‘s sailors is a small iron inclosure which marks the grave of Bridget E. Hoffman, who died in 1864. "I guess we will have to call her Mother Hoffman," said the old sexton, " for she‘s the only one buried here who‘s got a name, and so I think she ought to be the mother of everybody in Potter‘s Field." Very close to the 24 mounds is a group of 36 naval seamen who died of yellow fever. The sexton, however, was unable to tell when they were buried there. Nothing on the little 12â€" inch slab, at the head of each group, tells the story of the life or the death of the dead seammen, The names and the words United States Navy, alone are carved upon the slabs. LUXURIANT TROPICAL FLOWERS. But nature, even with the barren lime rock below and the scorching sun above seems trying to do what the hand of man has failed to do in beauâ€". tifying the graves of her beroes. Luxâ€" uriant trees of the tropical species are all about the newlyâ€"made graves. On one side a massive green cactus lifts its pulpy foliage high in the air. On the opposite side a row of tropical trees, refreshingly green, are in full blossom, and with every breeze cover the sunburned mounds with beautiful scarlet flowers, Near another side of the little burial place is a row of, royal spruce pines, which throw a shadow 1pon the graves in the afternoon, and through whose branch»s the sea breezes |consmntly sing when the sun has gone Rarely does any one visit the place. It is without care or attention, a byeâ€" corner of the island over which for two centuries, Spanish negroes and fisherfolks have %xet all their dead and forgotten them. rhaps oneâ€"half the graves in the cemetery are those of unknown sailors whose sleeping places are unmarked. Most of the inscripâ€" tions on tombstones "t in Spanish, The graves of the Maine‘s victims are surrounded by tombston s with Spanâ€" ish inscriptions. es 4 PICTURES OF DESOLATION. It is a picture of melarcholy desola Fleld of the Cemetery of â€"West â€"Faded Flags and se« Mark the Last Restâ€" In &stocilk x G. & J. MoKECHNIE tion. The graveyard is located on ® high point in about the middle of the island, and from it the great stretod of blue ocean may be seen on either® #ide, but balf a mile distant. There i* no goil there. The gravyes are simply carved out of the limeston» sand rock. All day the sun hbeats down upon the barren white rock surface until the scanty vegetation curls and crackles in the beat. Rarely is th>re a sound to break the melancholy #gilence. Some times one bears the weary C"F of a bird overhead, or soft voices of the Spanish children in the cottages nearâ€" by, that is all. The clattes of comâ€" merce in the harbour, the warships out | at sea and the idle babble of the town never disturb the sleep of the sailâ€" ors here in their rockâ€"bound berths. Of the 24 who were buried here, only tweo were identified. They were a negrd and a Japanese. It is probable that at some future time they may be removâ€" ed to another burial place. If not a suitable monament will be erected to their memory. New Condittons Developed by the Imprové» of Rocent Years. It is quite likely that during the progress of the preseat war there will be emtirely new _ experiences in the character and treatment of the wounds inflicted in battle as comparâ€" ed with those of thirty years Ago. Since that time the destructive mache inery of the battlefield has been brought to such a degree of perfection in regard to distance of range, accurâ€" acy of aim, and power of penelration, that the percentage of such as may reâ€" ceive slight wounds, from which recovâ€" ery may be possible, will be exceedingâ€" ly small in proportion to such as anre destined to be killed outright. It wilt be a question of wholesale slaughter, it which the winner can show the great»â€" ‘est amount of annibilation in the shortâ€" est possible time. The mill that has ‘the best grinding power will be the 'ifir.t to receive the prize. The game |is to be played with stakes in job lots. It is to be a wholesale husiness enâ€" tirely, the mere retail exhibitions of personal bravery, individual tact, or military genius being virtually unnecâ€" essary for the desired end. The hbest equipped muchine shop will turn out the most goods. Hence it will be imâ€" possible io estimate the amiount of damage that may be done or the numâ€" ber of lives that may be sacrificed. The wounds will be on a large scale and nuâ€" merous in proportion. Especially will this be the case on the battieships unâ€" der fire. Extensive lacerations from exploding shells, submarine mines and torpedoes, and splinters of steel and wood will be the rule. The wide areas of tissue involved and the correspondâ€" ing intensity of shock will necessitate new rules for operative inter{ference | and new methods of surgical technique. Comparatively speaking, amputation will be more necessary than resection. When once the danger of operation itself is past, aseptic surgery will abundantly demonstrate its opportuniâ€" ties. What is lost in one direction will ‘\be gained in another. Hospital gangâ€" rene, will be virtually impossible, and | suppurating stumps will no longer proâ€" pagate their poisonous iufluences. Inâ€" testinal surgery has also elevated itself ‘almost to a science. and death on the field, virtu«liy inevitable before, is now most effectually thwarted by the mt?- ermw and ingeniously skilful methods of the present day. Thus, while the | war may inflict larger and more danâ€" | gerous wounds than ever before, there | is a comfort in contemplating the comâ€" , pensatory balance of odds in favor of : the corresponding advances is operaâ€" . tive methods and the improved tech _ nique of wound treatment. MODERN WAR AND SURGERY. An English paper says that the othâ€" er day, when Queen Victoria was seatâ€" ed in her drawing room. with several of her hounehold\ in attendance, the lamp placed close beside her began to smoke. To the horror and astonishâ€" ment of her company the queen p1:omptâ€" ly raised her august hand and turned down the flame. "Your Majesty," said the lady in waiting, in aweâ€"struck tones, "why did you trouble to do that lyoumlt ®*‘ "Because," said the Queen i# I had called out this lamp is | smoking 1‘ one of you ladies would have -id_totlnewry.'Sulmlmil smoking !‘ and the equetrry would bhave Tlers! ths Gumet s Ray is muahing ? " an‘s lamp r and that servant would have called out to a footman to attend to it, and all the time the lamp would have gone on smoking; so I preferred to tura it downr myselft." . THE QUEEN‘S REASON Their Exntent and Bonnity ta% Columbus â€"Of Coral Form MHave Risen Out of the men. eomprise an arcl Jy thinks of tha a single land ma more than 1,3Â¥ these are of ¢g Cayo Romano, 180 square mil ous dimensions mere scra When Colun an waters he « of these island eng them, pr aspect of _ m; all of them w the largest, > ca! vege! floating of them rd by th the King south reo was in 1 la. Upo mostly . Gar the It is sit wia rige south, ar It se by no meal BV AM 1 moun & in pine troe a penai 00| able agriou duces a gr are no in: RE THAN A THOUSAND VERY GREAT SIZ tensive than all 1i islets strewn roun board. It is in r« which are separat channel. Rocky i« stone causeway ul COuba, the Isle of chiefly of sedimer "iardine=" and 33 bus, or they & matio® rhy me word come by animals to isliands «© southern en img iC large! bhave bubblin water, which su bterran ©4n land of Cub» peighboring saltâ€"pans, al coast, . i hese sixteen inche ocean by co waves wash by evaporat beds of &no alont 1t w h mV, There « neath th been if 1 to consi( human : it durin;g ever, it day was table the : Dh & No i Te dA de coral 1€ humt varic curre moniy and }| pur| Of _ AL D)&h iN ow neT: any i is its | alâ€"stu! closed One awt on« pesu Mn is lound hood o! eays do n than eight or ‘en face of the water. | fringed with mal getation consist t:clmn. mostly, wit vines, Fome 0 {:l‘..t,.-. are brought t most of them 1,000 fee! ocean currents. Thi most interesting me ing |||‘llt-|ife. Dar much attention to =“ will bear imm dawe or even qo their vitaity, #o 1 le Cu from nat _# l ten @eTrs, tarce BI n n I8LES O0F N 030 n d 1€ D v D n rey U T 1 EXNI 14 ns n n D f1 it h 1& n N man n ti