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Some years ago a manager of a well-regu- lated theatre along the line of the Erie Ca- nal, engaged a young lady as a supernumer- ary. It happened that the young lady had musomen capamty as 8x 1 7 d” on board a canal boat, afaet that she'was anxious to conceal. She evinced much anxiety to ,master the details of her new profession, and exhibited more than or- dinary comic talent. She was duly promo- ted, and in time became a favorite with both the manager and the public. One night when she was to appear in a favorite part acouple of boatinen found their way into the pit near the footlights, anxious to see the famous comedienne. The house was crowded: and after the subsidence of the general applause that greeted her appear once, one of the boatmen slapped his com- panion on the shoulder, and exclaimed, loud enough to be heard half over the houseâ€" “ Bill, I know that gal !" “Pshaw l" said Bill, “ shut up.” “ But I’m sure 1 do, Bill. It’s Sal Flukins, as sure as you’re born. She’s old Flnkins’ daughter that used to run the Infant]! Polly, and she used to sail with him.” “Tom,” said Bill, “ you’re a fool ; and if you don’t stop your infernal clack you’ll get put out. Sal Flu- kin I You must know a sight if that’s her.” Tom was silenced, but not convinced. He watched the actress in all her motions with intense interest, and ere long broke out againâ€"“ I tell ye, Bill, that’s her; I know ’tis. You can’t fool meâ€"I know her too Well. You just wait; I’ll fix her. Keep your eyes on me.” Sure enough he did fix her. Watching his opportunity when the actress was deeply absorbed in her part, he sang out, in a voice which rang through the galleries, “Low Bridge!” From force of habit the actress instantly and involuntarily ducked her head to avoid the anticipated col- lision. Down came the house with a perfect thunder of applause at this “ palpable hit,” high above which Tom’s voice could be heard, “ Didn’t I tell ye, old boy, I know’d twas her? You couldn’t fool me.” Persons who have been all their past lives specimens of spotless honesty and honour, suddenly break down,â€"â€"are found to have “ cooked ” their accounts, to have appropriated funds, to be unable to “ square their cash,” and as a consequence to have gone off to parts unknown. What is the reason? Were they always dishonest ‘3 Were they merely keeping up appearances ‘! Were they always on the watch for some questionable advantage? ' \Ve don’t believe it. On the contrary we are convinced that in many cases they were led gradually and almost imperceptibly astray ; that they meant to pay every one his own, but they were weak in yielding where they ought to have stood firm. They went into specula- tions from which they ought to have kept, aloof. They incurred expenses which their circumstances did not warrant. They thought it fine to give presents when they ought to have paid debts, and so one fine morning they wakened up, “defaulters,” as much to their owu astonishment as to others’ disgust. It was a great pity. They were very wrong. They are to be greatly blamed. At the same time there is no use of making them worse than they are. They were weak rather than deliberately wicked. They were vain rather than corrupt. They were not prudent, but they did not intend to be speculators. Of course there are fitnty who meant nothing short of theft. strained by no .moral considerations, their one thought has been how they could get most money with the least trouble. But don’t let us put all defaulters in the same boat. The world is bad enough in all conscience, let us not make it worse than it really is. Do We know what has been re- sisted? Perhaps some who have fallen have fought a harder battle against temptation than many who have stood and are ready to condemn. ‘Ve don’t wish to palliate wrong doing in any of its phases, yet let us not forget that even the defaulter may mean well, and may have been so circumstanced as to make him quite as much an object of pity as of condemnation. Odessa is now recognized as the head centre of the revolutionary party in Russia. The towns affiliated with it are Nicolaifl" and Hosted, on the Don, from which points the secret societies in south Russia direct the operations of their propagahdists in the agricultural districts. A fortnight a o a body was discovered in the streets of os- tofl', literally perforated with revolver bul- lets. Tied to the man’s coat was a paper with the inscription, “Shot for betraying‘ the secrets of Socialism.” At Nicolaifl' the i authorities are so apprehensive of an at- tempt being made to seize the dockyard by . the Nihilists, who are known to musterl several thousand strong in the town, that troops have been detailed off to protect the ‘ place. Do what the Government Will, it cannot crush the Socialists in the south. Fifty arrests were made in Odessa last month, and a court martial is now trying seven soldiers, out of twenty arrests a week ago, for spreading revolutionary doctrines among the garrison. The armed resistance made by a midnight meeting of Socialists to the gendarmerie of Odessa last month, has led to the enactment of a law published a few days ago that “armed resistance to the gendarmei‘ie is to be punished by penal servitude for six or eight years, and if the offence is perpetrated by several individuals at the same time, or occurs during the pre- valence of martial law, the penalty is to be ‘death by hanging, or banishment to the mines of Siberia for life.’ ” The number of defaulters is legion. Not a newspaper can be opened without a toler- atny full list presenting itself, not a neigh- bourhood visited without the same local story being told,â€"the most unlikely people in the most unlikely circumstances doing the thing that is not right, saying the thing that is not true, appropriating the money that was not theirs, and spoiling the character they have long got credit for. If there is any demon who specially presides over fraud, it would seem as if he had got special liberty to range, and had a peculiarly large number of people under his power. One surprise comes after another. No sooner has one exclaimed, “ After that, anything,” but something even still more unlikely turns up. While one is saying, “ I would as soon have suspected my brother,” there comes in another item of news which makes him al- most add, “ I would as soon have suspected mysel f. ” Two wealthy wood-carvers in Massachus- etts have founded a home for destitute mem- bers of the craft. Why don’t some of our wealthy poets found a home. for destitute poets? This could be done by roofing in one or two continents. ABOUT twenty years ago the Bank of Eng- land purchased, for £40,000, the splendid residence, known as Uxbridge House, of the Marquis of Anglesey, and established a West End branch. The ball-room contained an exquisite alabaster mantel piece, for which customers of the bank have oflered as much as £1,000, but the directors have lately put it up in the parlor of “the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street.” VOL. XIX. NO. 49. A Theatrical Incident. Socialism in Russia. Defaulters. I have not a doubt of it, my lad,” ans- wered the other cheerfully. “The Tories are very sore at the result of the elections, and I dare say they do not owe much love for Winning a seat; from them at Slow- combe.” “I make allowance for party feeling, sir; but personal accusations have been made, and it seems to me of such a. kind that they should be answered.” ['l‘he onenlng scene of this fascinating story is laid in China. Two Englishmen, Ralph Pennieuick and Robert Conw- y, are travelling for pleasure, by boat propelled by Chinese rowers, along one of the man ' beautiful llVel‘S in that vast country. Peu~ nicuick. the wealthy man of the two, furnishes the entire funds for the trip, taking Conway, his inti- mate though poor friend, along for company. Pen- nicuick, a headstrong, impulsive fellow. without a particle of reverence in his nature, commits the terrible sacrilege (in the eyes of the Chinese) of stealing the Shay-1e, an emblem or relic of their greatest god. The theft was committed at the time of a great religious fete, which was being held at a temple on the banks of the river. One of the crew of Chinamen, with whom Pennicuick had been ver exacting and cruel, saw him, the night follow ng the festival, examining the pre- cious Shay-1e, and thinking aloud what a rare a: d valuable addition this beautiful relic, which was in the form of a diamond or some other precious stone which he could hardly tell the nature of. would make to his cabinet of curiosities in En- gland. Fu-chow stole away during the latter part of the night and informed the High Priest. Pen- nicuick was promptly arrested. and the jewel found on his person. He was cast into prison and tortured great] , and finally condemned to die by the most terrib e death. being tied to a post in the public market and hacked to pieces with dull nives. All manner of bribes were ofi'el ed, but in vain. The offence was too great to be condoned. At last Pennicuick offered £20,000 for a substitute. Plenty of Chinamen ofl‘ered them elves, but as the execution was to be a public one, none but an Englishman would answer. 80 Conway, who had a dearly-loved daughter in England and a wife whom he did not think so much of, decided to ac- cept the £20,000 and die in his friend‘s stead. The money was to be handed over to his daughter on Pennicuick‘s arrival in England. As there were no witnesses to the trausaciion, Pennicuick, in thinking the matter over on his long journey back to England, decided that he would destroy Con- wa ’s will and retain the money. Penuicuick told to is and Conway’s friends on his return home, that it was Conway that committed the sacrilege. , The all said it was so uniike Conway they could 1 bar ly credit it. When Mrs. Conway heard it, she ‘ refused positively to believe it. and worked herâ€" self up to such a degree of passion that she fell , down dead from apoplexy, leuving Nellie, the daughter, an orphan. Pennicuick had a son who was deeply enamored of Miss Conway. and had] heretofore had his father’s determined oppz sition in the matter. Now to his (the son‘s) astonish- ment, he suddenly offered his conrratulations, and (lid not object to a speedy marriage, as his con» science had begun to trouble him exceedingly. Moreover, the matter had so preyed upon his mind that his health was failing rapidly. miss Conwa now would not hear of the arranremeni.) Mr. Pennicuick desisted for a moment from trimming his once universally admired beard with some elaborate instrument of the toilet, to smile good-naturedly upon his off- spriqg. “ How charming it is to find you still so young, Raymond ! Is it possible that you have reached the legal years of discretion, and yet can advocate a man’s attempting to set himself right with a newspaper? It was done onceâ€"by Richard Cobden, if I remem- ber rightlyâ€"and with tolerable success ; but the exception only proves the rule. If a. Bengal tiger tore the clothes off your back you wouldn’t go and ask him for them, I suppose, nor yet for an apology. If you couldn’t shoot himâ€"and you can’t in this caseâ€"you’d. be very glad to leave the beast alone.” “ Still, there are questions of fact, sir, which it is desirablo should be made known. I don’t know how you may take things now in a. Parliamentary sense, but when I read in the paper that my father told a lie, it makes my blood boil.” “Does it, indeed, my lad ‘2" replied the other coolly, What a very bad state your blood must be in I A newspaper, and espe- cialiy a Tory newspaperâ€"will say anything. The only question that the person of whom it says it has to consider is, Is that paper worth powder and shot? You can only 'make it feel by means of an action for libel. Now,” (this with a light touch of scorn) “is it worth my While to bring one 1’” It was ail admirable piece of acting. You would have said this man was of iron; ub- terly impervious to the whips and stings of which he spoke. “ Well, it is not the insult that moves me so much, father,” answered Raymond hesi- tatingly, “ as what these blackguards have said about your behavior toâ€"that is, about what happened at Dhulang. Everybody knows, who knows anything about it, how loyally you stuck by your friend. And these inuendoes are abominable. Have you any personal enemy, do you think, who knowing something of what you did, endea~ vors thus cruelly to misrepresent it?" It took Ralph Pennicuiok “all he knew,” as he would himself have phrased it, to keep his color here, and to prevent his hands from trembling. It was horrible to think that the very idea which had haunted him since that nomination day at Slowcombe should have occurred thus naturally to his son. “Enemies, my lad Iâ€"why, of course I have enemies. The man must be a cipher indeed who has not made such.” “ But did you make one in China ‘2” Pennicuick’s mind reverted to Fu-chow, and he gave a. ghastly smile. He had cer- tainly nothing to fear from that obscure SYNOPSIS 0F PRECEDING CHAPTERS THE DISADVAN’J‘AGES 0F GREATNESS I loved as a man who is selfish, She loved in a woman's way ', And man‘s love compared with a woman's Is as darkness unto day. As a spendthrift scatters his birthright I wasted the dower she gave, And too late I find my ambition Has followed her into the grave. The brain that her glances kindled Is blighted, and dead, and chilled, And the gorgenus dreams of the future Can uevcrmore be fulfilled. Was I blind, or mad, or but heartless The face and the hand are gunc, The light of my life has vanished, I am utterly alone. And I only too well remember How I chafed at. the dumb reproach And swore that. no thought of Woman Should on my studies encroach. Am] from yonder painted canvas I catch the old, wistful 100k, Su timidly, mutely jealous 0f the love that, I gave my book And I think how that hand so loving~ That craved but to lie in mine, 0ft met an impatient gesture, Or found no responsive sign. Lu ! a. hand comes forth fmm the shadows 7 A touch that I knew of aidâ€"- That could crown the gloomiest fancies With an aureole of gold ; The heart of the simplest woman Is a mysfiury unrevcaled, And the love that seems transparent Is mom hopelessly concealed, We care not for love while we have it, We knuwnnt nf love til] 'tis 108er We scuttm' its treasures 1m Mdhmldcd, Nor reckon the ultimate cost. BY PROXY. CHAPTER XXXIX BY JAMES PAYN LOST LOVE DEAR SIR,â€"The interest which you have so strongly manifested in Miss Ellen Conway must be my excuse for addressing you con- cerning a matter that affects her nearly. , She has, to our great distress, suddenly re- solved upon leaving our roofâ€"or rather the house that has for the last few months re- presented itwand on maintaining herself, in London, on her own slender resources and the small pecuniary aid which her pencil may afford her. The reason of this I need not go into; she is quite determined upon the subject, and will no doubt carry out her intention. It is in vain that we have be- sought her to accept, even for the present, such assistance from us as would at least‘ put her above the necessity of practising‘ what I fear must be called sordid economies. She will take nothing, she says, but what she earns, or to which she has a right. The poor soul, though (as my wife says, who loves her like her own child) she dcservest everything, has a right as far as we know, to nothing. Still, it strikes us both that there is a. course by which she may be bene- fited through your means, though, as I un- derstand, she has refused to do so at your expense. I had the pleasure of reading the telegram to-day which announced your re- turn for Slowcombe. Now, it is certain that a Member of the House of Commons can call attention to anything that has been done amiss far better than any private individual, and I venture to suggest therefore that you will press upon the Ministry, of which it seems you are a supporter, the propriety of doing something for Miss Conway in the way of pension. Her father was not killed while on military service, and it was even urged, when the matter was before mooted, that he was put to death for a grave offence which insulted the whole Chinese nation through their religion, and, in short, admitted of no palliation, far less of recompense. You, how- ever, will be in a position to state the facts of the case, which, from poor Nelly’s own account of her father’s character, I can scarcely believe are in accordance with these statements. You have already shown your willingness to assist this dear poor girl with your purse ; I am sure, therefore, you will not refuseâ€"since that sort of private aid is distasteful to heroto give your voice to the advocacy of her claims in Parliament. No one so well knows as you do what actually occurred at Dhulaug, and as the nearest friend of her father, you are certainly the fittest man to undertake the cause. The dear girl has made up her mind to go to her old lodgings in Gower Street, the landlady of which is a kind motherly sort of woman, she says, and where, it seems, there is a room suitable for a studio. Her first step will be to provide herself with seine suitable drawing-master.â€"so that she will have to educate as well as to clothe and feed herself upon what is, in fact, a mere pit- tance. The urgency of the case will there- fore, I am sure, excuse my addressing you upon the matter. “ Now, what do you think of that ‘3" said Ralph l’enuicuick peevishly. “You know this fellow well; I don’t~at least, scarcely to nod to ; and yet he writes to dictate to me what I am to do as soon as I take my seat in Parliament. I call it a most infernal liberty. As to Miss Nellv, I have not a word to say against her.” So furious was his mood, that he now remembered for the first time that there had been a love affair between the two young people. “ But I put it to you, Raymond ; if you were in my place, would you not think it deuced hard?” “ However hard it was, father, I should take care that no effort ofminewas wanting, were I you, to urge my dead friend’s daugh- ter’s claim, as Mr. Wardlaw suggests. She, unhappily, refuses aid from those who think it an honor and a. pleasure to help her, and therefore there is no resource for her but a public grant. It; is plain she will be in pen- ury, if not in absolute want ” “ That’s her own fault, sir,” broke in the other petulantly. “She is too proud to take anybody’s money, though, as you are a witness, I have offered her enough and to spare. Her viewâ€"quite contrary to that en- tertained by those who go into the work- houseâ€"is that it is less humiliating to be- come a pensioner of the .State.” “ I (isn’t see that this is her View at all, sir. Mr. \Vardlaw takes it for granted that it is so, amd this is all we know about it.” “ Véry likely, sir ; indeed, I feel confident that she is ignorant of Mr. Wardlaw’s hav- ing written to you ; and I think it only too likely that she would have seruples about making capital (as it may seem to her) out of her poor father’s murder. I can easily ima- gine her shrinking from the public disclo- sures it would be necessary to make regard- ing the catastrophe itself.’ “ Very true; avery just remark, Ray- mond,” observed the other approvingly. “ We have no evidence that the young lady herself had any hand in this singularâ€"this unjustifiableâ€"a.pplication. She may not even approve of iy.” _ The elder Pennicuickjn his selfish egotism forgot the cause which had aroused his son’s anmety. r“Ma,tter? There, you may read it for yourself if you like. It is monstrousâ€"it is infamous, that I am persecuted by every human upon this infernal subject.” And he threw the open letter upon the table. Raymond read as follows,â€" “I hope there is nothing the matter, sir,” said Raymond, who feared there might be some evil news from Sandybeaeh. He did not love Nelly the less because he had lost her. “ Wardlaw? What on earth should he be writ}ng to me; abput He Vopened the letter, having rapidly scanned the contents, and threw it down execration. “1 know that handwriting,” observed Raymond, pointing to one of these commu- nications, “and I promise you it is not a begging letter. It is from Mr. VVardlaw.” On the table, duly spread for that meal, was a. large heap of letters. “Ah, that is what comes of being an Ml). ! I have no dnubt everybody is wanting everything.” He ran his eye over the addresses. “ Yes : I thought so ; strangers every one of them. They want churches endowed, chapels built, the Liberal cause supportedâ€"that is to say, from £5 to £50â€"every one of them. I wish they may get it.” " VVeI], there is some malicious scoundrel at work in this matter, s'ir, I feel confident, and fortunately We can dispose of his slan- ders. Milhmn, who accompanied you when you returned to Dhuluug, will, 1 am sure, write to the papers â€"â€"” “ Not a. word,” interrupted'the other vi- olently ; “I will not have a syllable writ- ten on the subject. Pray permit me to ma.- nage my own affairs, sir.” His face was pale with passion, but he controlled himself. “ Cume, my lad, let us go to breakfast.” barbarian, though he would even yet have 1_iked to cut his pigtail ofl" and his head with it “I of course refer to some European; and one who has communication with this country.” " I know of no such foe, my lad,” said Pen- nicuick thoughtfully. ' “The whole Chinese race are my ene- mies,” sald he quietly, “but I have no quarrel with any one In partlcular.” AND YORK COUNTY INTELLIGENCER. I am, dear sir, Yours truly. JOHN WARDLAW RICHMOND HILL, ONTARIO, CANADA, MAY 2, 1878. Grief, it is said, does not always disin- cline ladies to love; bleed, there is a fa.- mous classical storyâ€"â€"l am not Classical my- self, only devout, and I have read it as it appears in Jeremy Taylorâ€"«of a widow who, even while weeping over her husband’s tomb, became filled with the tender passion for somebody else ; and at all events, grief for- bids mere flirtation and makes matters seri- ous. So, in Miss Ellen Conway’s case though she never thought of Love, her very sorrows made her more accessible, as I have said, to one who it was easy for anyone else but herself to see had become her lover. To her the talk about her father and his fate was so incongruous with any notion of “ be- ing courted,” that it did not occur to her that she was undergoing that operation; but Mr. Herbert Milburn was not for his part so overcome with melancholy but that he could thlnk of other things than the Tombâ€" such as the Altar. Another thing, too, con- duced to the young people being “thrown together ” more than otherwise would have been the ease, namely, Miss Milburn’s oppo- sition. By Nelly it was simply disregarded; but “ dear Herbert ” resented it exceeding- ly, and redoubled his attentions to his fair enslaver in consequence. “You are too impetuous, Raymondâ€"far too impetuous, and you take advantage of myâ€"what is the word !â€"â€"yes, my failing health. But if the girl wishes itâ€"mind that, if she really wishes itâ€"and if you think it my duty, and if I am equal to itâ€" ! you’ll just write to Wardlaw for me and say thatâ€"if I am egual to itâ€"the thing shall be doneâ€"Now, 1 think,” here his tones assum- Ned their old petulance, “ you have done me enough mischief for one morning,‘a.ndâ€"0h, I have no doubt you didn’t mean to kill me, but when one is out of health, one doesn’t want to be pulled down still lower by bad newsâ€"andâ€"and disagreeable talk. And if you will kindly ring the bell, Raymond. Hat- ton will show you out.” After a few weeks he was summoned to London again on business for a day or two, and then it was for the first time that Nel- ly feltâ€"through her sense of lossâ€"how agreeable acompanion he had been to her. If her mere affection for each had been weigh- ed,.it would probably have been found that she liked Mrs. Wardlaw much the better of the two ; but then Milburn could sympa- thise with her, while her kind hostess could only pity and pet her. The young rogue affected to encourage her views of indepen- dence and artistic toilâ€"though in his heart he intended to knock all such proje ts on the head by marrying herâ€"while Mrs. €Vardlaw utterly scoffed at them. “She had no pa- tience with such nonsense," she said. “What did Heaven send us friends for but to make use of them 2’" It was quite true that the young man’s visit had done his father harm. When his son had left the room, Ralph Pennicuick fell back in his chair as a dying man lies, at length, from sheer feebleness. There was a certaln generous scorn about her, which I venture to think was as fine in its way as those Spartan precepts about liv- ing on a crust ot‘one’s own winning which Nelly preached, and indeed burned to prac- tise. She was getting convinced that her pencil was retrograding rather than improv- ing, and that she must place herself under professional guidance. “They will kill me amongst them,” he murmured. “ I could never stand itsâ€"that speech in the House of Commons about him. It would be one lie from first to last. Alone and unfriindedâ€"a scanty pittanceâ€"and his daughter. It is frightful every wayfi’ His face was so ghastly that, as he pulled out a drawer in the breakfast-table and produced a. bottle, a looker-on would have- said. “ Why, this man is going to put an end to his life.” It was however, only some brandy, which he poured from the bottle in- to his cup of coffee, and drank with a trem- bling hand. The words were commonplace, but the voice attracted her by its exceeding gentle- In vain Mr. Herbert Milburn had recom- mended himself as a competent teacher. “ You draw no better than I do, sir, nor yet so well,” she had replied, which was quite true, as he laughingly acknowledged. N 0W that he was gone she 'missed his laugh, his gentle, earnest talk, and perhaps (though she would not. have called it by that name) even his devotion. More thoughtful than usual, but with her thoughts fixed on her future, not her past, she took her solitary way one afternoon along the shore. Some fancyâ€"~or it might be a disincllnation to choose the favorite route that had so often been enlivened by his companionship -â€" made her seek the southern bay, where the projecting cliffs are steep and high, and the beech level and san- dy without a stone. As she crossed the jetty she passed an artist at his work; his color-box was on the stone step, and she in- advertently struck it with her foot. “ I beg your pardon, sir.” ' The expression of Ralph Pennicuick’s face, who, at the commencement of this im- passioned speech, had stared at his son with angry eyes, had wholly altered during its progr ss. It; had worn such a look of mute appca. when Raymond painted N elly’s wretched condition, that you would have thought the description of it. had pierced his listener’s very heart (as indeed it did) ; and now, when Raymond spoke of what his own feelings would be if his father should refuse to urge Nelly’s plea, should she her- self desire it, changed again to an expression of patient but pained submission. “ II: would be distressing, of course, sir, and doubtless disagreeable in Vin-my ways,” answered Raymond gravely ; “ but if you ask my opinion, and supposing the young lady being in favor of the application being made, it seems to me that you have no op- tion but to undertake it. Consider, sir, the position of this orphan girl in London, alone and unfriendetl, endeavoring to earn a scan- ty pittance by her pencil, while you, the nearest friend of her dead father, prosperous and in good position, do not stir a. finger to help her. I am sorry to distress you, sir, but, believe me, I speak on your own account as well as hers ; would not such a state of things, I say, give grounds, and apparently solid ones, for accusations which are now, thank Heaven, baseless and contemptible, but which in that case I, for my part, should blush to read ‘2” “And very right too,” put in the elder Pennicuick. “ Such feelings do her honor, and I would be the laet man to wound them. Moreover, I will credit her with apprecia- ting the great inconvenience that the course proposed would entail upon me. Why. sir, I should have to demand of the Prime Min- ister a night all to myself to bring the mat- ter before Parliament. Among the “notices of motion ” you would See, “ Ralph Penni- cuick, to ask the Government why a pension has not been conferred on the orphan daugh- ter of the late Captain Arthur Conway, put to death in March last by order of the Im- perial Government of China,’ &c., 8w. I shall be looked upon as one of those melan- choly bores who insist upon having their say concerning the Begum of Badrapore and her hereditary claim of seven millions of rupees, and other horrid Indian matters. It would i be making me supremely ridiculous, and be ‘ unspeakably distressing into the bargain. You must see that yourself.” “Nay, it was my fault, not yours,” said A FRIEND IN NEED CHAPTER XL. [ERALJJ He started to his feet, and hurried down the sea-worn slippery steps of the jetty as well as his weak limbs would permit; when in motion you could see clearly how feeble and shattered was his frame. In deed, since walking was such a toil to him, he had come even the short distance from Sandybeach in a boat, which lay moored close by. _ Again the piteous sound came wailing round the point, and died like a. ghost on the same spot, as it had died before ; but this time, because he had been waiting for it, he recognised it for what it was. He might not, as Nelly suspected, have had all his five senses about him, but he had certainly the sense of hearing ; for, faint as it was, he had caught that inarticulate cry. It might have been the whimper of a sea-bird for all that he could gather from it, kut it had been sufficient to arouse his ear- nest attention. He too, like Raymond, had read books of travel and adventure, or had perhaps, in visiting foreign-lands, had occa- sion to practise shifts and expedients, for he turned the curled brim of his wide awake into the shape of what is called a coal-scut- tle bonnet, and under that improvised sounding-board looked all ear. He scrambled into this, and seized the oars with trembling hands. The wind was dead against him, and his arms were weak, but the will, as you could read in his glit- tering eyes was strong within him, and in his first few strokes you saw that he was fa- miliar with his oar. He had an oarsman’s in- telligence, for he urged the boat up to the promontory and then along under its lee, in- stead of making straight for its head. The rounding this against wind and tide was his dimculty, and it strained all his powers. The sweat came out upon his forehead, and his lungs labored with his laboring arms, and for minutesâ€"that seemed to him yearsâ€"the issue hung in doubt, but at last he conquer- ed and reached the comparatively smooth water of the bay beyond. Its last breath, however, caused the old artist, who was still sitting on the same step to start up and listen. It would not have been so had he been attending to his work : but neither pencil 1101‘ brush had he touched since Nelly went by him two hours ago. He had been staring out to sea, and frowning and muttering to himself, and at times giv- ing a great sigh and shutting his eyes, as though nothing was worth looking at : when presently over his face would steal a gentle smile, and the tears would fall two by two, Without a. sound. In all probability she was doomed to die. Before the sunset came and painted yonder ocean with its gorgeous hues, she would be lying beneath it. She was too young for this awful thought not to affect her exceeed- ingly. Now that death was so near she no longer yearned for it as she had seemed to do of late, but would have very willingly escaped it. She had no fears of the super- ‘stitious kind, but strange to say, the idea that she was about to meet her parents, which hitherto had been so familiar to her, did not now occur to her. Her thoughts, after the first few moments of physical fear, wandered back instead of forwardâ€"to her childhood ; the enclosed spaceâ€"narrowing with such , frightful speedâ€"in which she found herself, reminded her of some familiar scene in which Raymond and she had been placed during a visit to some other point of the coast, and in which they had“ made be- lieve” to be in a. similar danger. The cliffs in that case had been easily accessible, but it had been the children’s fancy to suppose it otherwise. “N ow, ” said Raymond, who was for ever reading books of peril and ad. venture, “we must cry ‘ Help,’ because that word goes far ; and the way to cry it is this : turn your back to the wind, and hol- low your two handsâ€"soâ€"and then shout.” Every word of good advice is a. seed that depends upon the soil on which it falls for life, and on occasion for development. Ray- mond‘s words seemed to fall upon her ear exactly as they had done half a score of years ago, and she put both her hands toge- ther (firm they were as the fluted capital of a pillar), and shouted “Help, help !” to the eager wind. It sped upon its course carrying this plaintive music with it, round the sou- ‘ thern arm of the bay, till the sound grew ‘ faint and was left for dead upon the j_etty._ _ l At the edge of its semicircle on a mere ridge of sand, which in a. quarter of an hour would be sea, stood Nelly, wlth one hand fluttering a handkerchief, with the other shading her eyes as she gazed on the coming succor ; directly she had caught sight of the black stem of the boat she had ceased to call for help. The felt sure that help was com- ingâ€"if it could. The ridge of sand had con- tracted to a. riband when the boat reached her, but she stepped into it dryshod, She was about to pour forth her thanks to her deliverer, but he put his finger to his lips; his face was wet, but, notwithstanding his exertions, without a trace of color ; and his breath came in great gasps. “Great hea- ven 1” said she, “you are killing yourself for my sake. I am strongâ€"I can row ; give me the oars !” He muttered a faint protest, but she took them from his hand, and he tottered to the stern and sat down. The boat drew away from shore like an arrow, urged by her long steady strokes and by the favoring Wind. She had learned how to use the oars from Ray- mondâ€"the second accomplishment of his teaching which had stood her in good stead that day. Her companion’s eyes regarded her with the same hungry loak as before, but it no longer startled _her. He had risen as she passed, but sat down at once again very hastily : his shrunken limbs trembled excessively, and seemed un- able to support him. Nelly felt sorry for him, but her own sorrow presently monopo- ‘ lised her mind, and she forgot all about him; she forgot, too, the time, the place, and the warnings she had received not to linger in Blackness Bay during the spring tides. She was walking to and fro on the dry firm sand when suddenly she looked up and saw the two arms of the bay already Frojectiug far into the sea, and the stern ace of the sheer cliFf cutting off her escape to landward. The wind was blowing fresh, and from the south, that towards Sandy- beach, but she felt that it was too far from the ,village for a cry of help to reach it. Still she knew that was her only chance, for though there were ships in sight they were miles and miles away, and she could scarce- ly have been seen from them had she stood on the cliff against the sky instead of on the shore with the dark clifi' behind her, which must have seemed almost one with her black dress. Her mind, always alive to “ color,” seized on this fact almoSt as soon as it grasp- ed the awful peril of her situation. ness. He was an old manâ€"or mther looked like a man prematurely old ; his brown hair and heard were plentifully streaked with. grey, and his face was sharp and worn â€"as though it had been held to the grind- stone by harsh Fate. His eyes, deep sunk in their sockets, flamed at her with an ex- pression such as she had seen the hungry wear in sight of food exposed in shops, and which would have frightened her but for the softness of his speech. If the poor man looked madâ€"and that idea did strike herâ€" he certainly looked harmless. He was long past the time of life at which landscape painters are seen sitting about in the late au- tumn, even at Sandybeach, and judged by his attire, was far from- prosperous. Per- haps at his age, thought she, it might come to pass she might have met with the same ‘ ill-31130658, and wear as despairing looks as he di . When the§ had rounded the point, and “ How do you know but Rachel slapped his face for kissing her, and he cried in con- sequence ?”â€"Ladies’ Treasury. “He wept because there was but one Rachel for him to kiss.”â€"Clerkenwell News. “ He wept for joy, that was delicious.”â€"â€" Jewish Chronicle. Mr. Punch has derived great amusement lately reading the commentaries of sages of the English press on the following passage : “ And Jacob kissed Rachel, and lifted up his voice and wept.”-â€"GEN. xxx1x., 11. The following are the difl'erent explanal tions : “If Rachel was a. good-looking girl. and kept her face clean, we cannot see what Jar cob cried for. ”â€"â€"Daily Telegraph. “ Weepin‘g is frequently caused by excess of pleasure, joy, and over-happiness ; per- haps it was so in the case of Jacob.”â€" Hardwick’s Science Gossip. “ The reason Why Jacob wept was Rachel’s refusing to let him kiss her the second time.” â€"Nnnconformist. “ We are of the opinion that Jacob wept because he had not kissed Rachel before, and he wept because the time was lost.”â€"City Press. “ The young man wept because the damsel kissed him.”â€"Pall Mall Gazette. “ Jacob wept because Rachel encouraged him to kiss her twice more and he was afraid to do it.”»â€"Methodist Recorder. “We belieYe that Jacob wept because Rachel had been eating onions.”â€"â€"British Standard. “ We believe that Jacob wept because he found that kissing was not half so good as it was said to be. ”â€"â€"New Zealand Exami- ner. THE. new Pope can be very bitter in speech. When a Nuncio at Brussels he dined with the Marquis X., a Freethinker, to whom nothing is sacred. The gentleman, thinking to horrify him, drew his attention to his snuff box, with a naked Venus on the lid. Cardinal Pecci remarked, “ Very good, very fineâ€"a portrait of the Marchion- ass, I see.” Connâ€"What kind of sweetmeats were therein the Ark ?~â€"Preserved pairs. “My lodgings are not good enough to re- ceive ladies in,” he answered simply ; “ but I v‘vjll‘ceftqiply call at; tllg hotel.” Concealing her alarm, however, she wish- ed him “ good day,” with a. grateful smile, angl'wallged quickly hmle. Her advenlaure was commonplace enough, and would haVe been so even if it had ended fatally ; but he who had shared it with her was certainly not a. common character, It was difficult to guess his age, but she put it at about fifty-five ; that he was ill and poor seemed certain ; also that he was eccentric to an extreme degree : but she felt that he was a gentlemen and had a good heart. [TO BE CONTINUED] “ Jacob wept because Rachel threatened to tell her ma.”â€"Sunday Gazette. “A mistakeâ€"it was not his eyes but his mouth that watered.”â€"â€"Ladies’ Chronicle. “ He was a fool and wept because he did not know what was good for hi1n.”â€"English- woman’s Adviser. “ Peace, all of you I Is there anything beneath this starry firmament or the golden orb of day, in nature or in art, equal to the first kiss in sweetness and entrancing fe- licity? Our word for it, there is not; and as Jacob had never kissed a pretty girl be- fore, his first enjoyment of the most delight- ful pleasure of life fairly overcame him, and he wept for joy and blissful happiness.”â€" Horsey_Hornet. “ I sometimes think I have ; at all events I take a great pleasure in it. Perhaps it is hereditary, for my dear father did the like.” “ He was an artist, then ?” “ No, a soldier.” Her companion nodded and leant back in the stern with a. weary air. Nelly took to her oars again, and in a. few strokes brought the boat beside the jetty. “ Yes, I Hope you will call, sir, or permit my friend Mrs. Wardlaw to call on you? I should be very sorry to lose sight of one to whom I owe so much.” Nelly held ant her hand ; he took it and carried it rapidly to his lips, which startled her a. little. “ He wept because it was not time to kiss her agaln.”-â€"-Exp_ress. Mr. Punch is constrained to differ from the opinions, because he knows from experience that the young man wept because his nose was too long, so that he was unable to im- print a kiss squarely on the lips of his sweet- heart. “ You are stayingvat Ehe hotel, I believe, Mi§swConv_vay.” 011 ?” “Oh, it is not their fault; I could live with them all my life, I believe, if I were so minded ;but I prefer to be independent.” “ And you have a talent with the 'pen- “ My name is Ellen Conway : I am an or- phan, _but I am staying here for the present with some kind friends, Mr. and Mrs. \Vardlaw. You must come and receive their thanks, for they value her you have saved far beyond her merits.” “ They are good friends to you, then ?” “ No one had ever better.” “ And rich '3” “ Yes, they are very well off.” “ Rich and good friends, and yet you are poor you say. I do not understand that sort of ‘fi‘iendehip. ” “ Pearson,” he answered ; “ but you need not make so much of the matter; I heard you cry for help, and rowed across yonder. It; took me half-an-hour, it is true: a few years ago it would have taken me but five minutes.” “ You have been ill, then ‘2" “ Yes, I was taken ill abroad ; I am re- duced to this g” he held out his skinny hand against the sun, which almost shone through it. “ Let us talk on a worthier sanectâ€" yourself. ‘Vho are you '2” “ It is your kindness, not your weakness. What am I to you, that you should have ex- erted yourself so nony for my sake ! How thankful I am that you are not a poor sailor, but a gentleman.” “ Why so ‘3" he asked. “ Because you will need no recompense but the satisfaction of having done a gener- ous action ; if it were otherwise, and I gave you all I had, it would be but a small guer- don for so great a service.” i “ You are poor, then ?” said he sharply. " Yes, quite poor. 1 amâ€"or rather some day I hope to beâ€"an artist like your- self, only with me it will be working for bread.” “ Ah I” i It was but a monosyllable, but it was full of significance ; it was pitiful, but it had also a s of fierceness in it. It was evident to her hat this poor man was eccentric. to say the least of it : but her gratitude was due to him even if he were a madman. “ Let me know the name of my deliverer," said she earnestly. “ I afihn’and old,” said he, with a pained look : “ pray excuse my weakness.” found themselves under its protection, she ceased rowing. “I owe you my life, sir,” said she simply. He bowed his head with- out speaking ; but those flaming eyes began to soften, till the flame was quenched ; he wae Tweepi‘rzg. Weeping after Kissing. WHILE growling at‘her husband last sum- mer a woman in Chicago was struck by lightning and. instantly killed. Ladies should paste thls paragraph in their hats. Cairo. 111., has a nine-year-old girl Who beats everybody at checkers. - Plaited waists are both stylish and appro- priate for all cotton goods. A PEASANT, being at confession, accused himself of having stolen some hay. The father confessor asked. him how many bundles he had taken from the stack. “ That is no consequence,” replied the pea.- sant, “ you may set it down a waggon load ; for my wife and I are going to fetch the re- mainder very soon. ” SOYER‘S MULLIGATAWANY SOUPâ€"Cut up a knuckle of veal, put into a stewpan with a. piece of butter, half pound lean ham (not smoked), carrot, turnip, three onions and six apples ; add half pint of water ; set the stew pan over a sharp fire,moving the meat round occasionally let remain until the bottom of the stew pan is covered with a brownish glaze ; add three tablespoonfuls of curry powder, half a. pound of curry paste and half a pound of flour, stir well in ; add a gallon of water,a. spoonful of salt and half one of sugar. When boiling place at the corner of the stove, simmer two hours and a half, skimming ofl' all the fat as it rises ; then strain into a. tureen. Trim some of the pieces of veal and put back in the stew pan to bail ; serve with boiled rice separate. The most stylish slipper s are withOut bow or buckles. Black parasols lined with white or cardin- al red are very stylish. All the kilt walking dresses have a. broad sash across the front. Black and white lace over black satin is fashionable for elderly people. For summer waterproof there are thin English twills that come in greys and fawn colors. Later Observances confirm the statement that grey will be a favorite color next sum- mer. Real acorns and filbgrts are covered with velvet, and, with leaves, are used to trim bonnets. Pipings of contrasting colors will be much worn, but they will not be round as former- ly, but flat. Beads are used even on the flounces of im- ported dresses. Mrs. Anna P. Seaver left $100,000 to Harvard College, and her estate is appraised at about $327,000. Black ski) ts with white dots in them are now sold in London, they will hardly super- sede the white articles. Scarfs are draped round the Princess dresses and knotted behind, with the ends falling over the train. ' Paris letters say that plain and dotted Swiss muslins will be in demand for evening toilets this summer. Many of the colored silk fringes are mix- ed with chenille, which adds both to rich- ness and lightness of texture. Mrs. Pratt is the mother of “ Little Men," whom Miss Louisa. M. Allcott, Mrs. Pratt’s sister, has made famous. Mary Fosdick, of Boston, has been nominâ€" ated by the Fovernor for the Chaplaincy of the Prison for women in Ohio. HOP YEASTâ€"~Take five or six large pota- toes, pare and grate them raw into a. pan, then put it on the stove and pour boning water on it ; it will thicken first like starch; pour boiling water on a handful of hops and let them steep; when the potatoes are cooked enough strain the hop water into the pan, add half a teacup of sugar, the same of salt, then add lukewarm water to make the whole amount to about one gallon ; when it is cool stir in a couple cups of yeast to start it. It is very nice, white yeast. If you prefer thicker yeast don’t add so much water. It will keep sweet a long time. The “Countess of Rosebery” is a new combination of the finest‘ ostrich feathers of the most delicate shadings. So fine and handsome are some of the Scotch ginghams that it ls a compliment to the spring silks to compare them. BAKED lNDIAN PUDDINGâ€"Boil a quart of milk and turn it on to a pint of sifted Indian meal; stir it well so as to scald the meal; mix three large spoonfuls of flour gradually with a pint of cold milk, gettin it free from lumps, and stir it into the pu ding. Add one nutmeg, 2:. pinch of salt, and sugar to taste. When cool enough add three eggs well beaten. Serve with butter, and bake it two hours before you serve it. This you will find to be good. YORKSHIRE l’UDDxNGâ€"Three-quarters of a. pint of flour, three eggs, one and a. half pints milk (perfectly sweet), pinch of salt. one and a half teaspoonfuls baking powder ; sift the flour and powder together, add the eggs beaten with the milk, stir quickly into a rather thinner batter than for griddle cakes, pour it into a. dripping-pan plentifully spread with fresh cold beef dripping, bake in a. hot ove? twenty-five minutes, serve with roast bee ._ WELSH RAREBITâ€"First put a. small tea- spoonful of butter in your spider ; then cut into small pieces one pound of cheese, and let it melt slowly with the butter (don‘t let it brown); beat three eggs well, adding one teacupful of sweet milk; pour this into the melted cheese and stir until it thickens; dish it up and dust with black pepper. I think it an excellent supper dish, though it is very rich. To BOIL RICE FOR CURRY â€" Take one one pound best rice, put into two quarts boil- ing water, boil until three parts cooked,then drain it on sieve, butter a stew pan, in which put the rice; p1ace the lid on tight and stand it in the oven on a, trivet until the rice is perfectly tender ; prepared thus every grain will be separate and quite white! SUET PUDDINGâ€"One cup of suet chopped fine, one cup of raisins, one cup molasses, half a cup of sweet milk, one tablespoonful of vinegar, one teaspoonful of salt, one tea.- spoonful of soda, one teaspoonful of cinna- mon, three cups of flour ; cloves and nutmegs to suit your taste. Steam three hours; serve with sauce. HASTY PUDDING â€" Place three pints of sweet milk in a kettle over a brisk fire ; thoroughly beat three eggs,and one-half pint of milk, two tablespoonfuls of flour, one-half teaspoonful of salt. Stir, and pour ilito the boiling milk. Stir until thoroughly cooked. Serve hot ; eat with sugar and cream. Olive and blue are worn together. LEMON JELLY CAKEâ€"One cilp sugar, two eggs, beaten together, one-fourth cup of cold water, one teaspoonful baking powder in one and a half cups of flour. JELLY CAKEâ€"Two eggs, one cup sugar, half cup sweet cream, one cup flour, half teaspoon soda, one teaspoon cream tartar. Valuable Hints for the Housew1fe. WHOLE NO. 1032 Pour Les Dames. KITCHEN STUFF.