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Not what we would, but what; we muut, Make up the sum of living; Heaven is both more or less than just In taking and in giving. {wordscleave to hands that sought the plough And laurels miss the soldier’s brow. Dear country home ! Can I forget The least of thy sweet crifles ‘? he Window vines, which clamber yet, Whose blooms the bee still rifles; ‘3 The roadside blackberries, growing ripe, And in the wéods the Indianâ€"pipe ? Eappy the man who tills the field, Content with rustic labor; Earth does to him her fulnessyield. Hap what may to his neighbor. Well days, sound nightsâ€"0 can there be A life more rational and free ‘P Dam- countrivl life of child and man I For both t 3 best, the strongest. That with the earliest moe began, That has outlived the longest. Their cities perished long ago, Who the first farmers were to know. Perhaps our Babels, too, will fall ; If so) no lementations, For Mother Earth will shelter all, And feed the unborn nations ; Yes. and the swords that menace now Will then be beaten by the plough. Author of “Molly Baum)" "The Baby." "Airy Fairy Lilian," etc.. etc. “ I think you must be raving,” says Duke. his own vehemenoe quieted by mine. " A letterâ€"yet stay," a. look of intelli- gence coming into his face ; and, going over to a. drawer he rummages there for a moment, and at length produces the very three-cornered note that has caused me so many jealous pangs. “ Is this the note you mean ?" “ Yes. it is," coming eagerly forward. “ I now recollect finding this in my room,when Iretumed from shooting yester- day. She asks me to do a. commission for her, which, as it happens, quite slipped my memory until now. Take it and read it, and see how just were your suspicions.” As I put out; my hand, I know that I am acting meanly, but still I do take in, and, openingit, find my three closely-written pages have dwindled down to half a one. Five or six lines, carelessly scrawled, are Iatore me. _“7Arre fiou satisfied ?" asks ’Duke, who. hal {sitting on the table with folded arms, is Witching me qttentivply. “Yes,” in a. low voice; “ I was wrong. This is not the note I saw with her. I now I Jderatand she must; have meant that one torâ€"for somebody else, and, knowing I saw it, sent this to you to blind me.” “ More suspicions, Phyllis? As to what other charges you have brought against me, I can only swear that when I told you a. year ago you were the only woman I had ever_rea.lly loved. I spoke the truth." 77"Yes,I would. If I live to be an old man,I shall never love again an Ihave lovefl, and do love,_you." " Yet you are always meeting Blanche ; you are always with her. Only this very morning I found you both together in the corridor in earnest conversation.” ' V'r‘ From'all you. haie sand to me to-night, I can scarcely imagine you would now repeat those words," Isay, in trembling tones. “ It was quite by accident we met ; I had no idea she was there." “She was speaking to you of me ?” " She said something about your manner towards Gore the night previous. It was something very kind I remember, but it angered me to think any one had noticed you, though in my heart I knew it must be so. It was too palpable. She meant nothing hurtful.” “ The wretohl ’Duke. listen to me and believe me. It I had not felt positive that note,” moving 9. little nearer and laying my fingers' upon it, “ was the one I saw with her, I never would have acted towards Mark Gore as I did last night. But I lelt wounded and out to the heart, and tried to torture you as I was being tortured. It was foolish, wicked of me, I know, but it made no one so miserable as myself." “ Yes," I acquiesce, and then there is a. pause in the conversation. Is he not going to touch an the other cause of war? For a. little time I am filled with wonderment; than I say, shyly, “ You do not ask me about Mark Gore ?" ." Wrong; I was going to [my mother only. Somehow, Billy and Rely of late do not seem so dear as you." I stroke his face patronizipgly.‘ _ " I am so glad I made that onslaught on your door a lihtle whlle ago,” declare I, mer- rily, “ and I think you were very undecided about letting me in. How good it is to be "I will, indeed, be most sincerely de- lighted, i! her staying causes you one moment‘s unhappiness. She speaks of leaving next week; let us be polite to her for these few remaining daysâ€"poor Blnnuhe lâ€"and then we will forget she ever lived .” “ No," replies he, hastily, “ nor will I. I understand everything; I believe all you said. A misconception arose between us; now it is at rest forever, let us refer to it no more. Now that it is at an end, I feel rather flattered at your being so jealous ; it tells me you must be getting to care for me a. little.” Only mother I” he says, with a gay laugh (how many weeks have passed since last I heard that laugh 1) “why, that is much better. Billy always appeared the most; formidable rival. Iam progressing in your good books. In time I may even be able to vanquish mother."_ “ But thenâ€"the rink." He speaks very quietly now, but he has some off the table, and is standing before me, one hand resting on it very close to mine, but not touching. I am gazing earnestly into his face thh large, wistful eyes. ” Of course I don’t mean that. But you will have no teta-a tales, and you won’t be so attentive to her, and you will be very glad when shg_goes_a.w_ay_?” "0h, caring is a poor thing. I think now I love you better than any one in the worl_d,_pxcept â€" ” “Billy, 11nd Roly, and mamma,” he mimics me, laughing, though he bites his lips,__“ the 019 story.” _ “ It was the same longing to: revenge made me go there-nothing else. I had tried to make up with you by asking you to take me to the rink in the evening, but you would not meet my advances, and answered me very cruelly.” My lips tremble. “ Your words restored all my anger. I was deter- mined to show you I could go there without your permission. Sir Mark was on the spot, and asked me to go with him ; it was all the same to me whom I went with, so long as I could defy you, and I agreed to accompany himâ€"not, as you thought, because I wished to be with him, but only to vex you. I thought of no one but you. It would not trouble me if I never saw Mark Gore again. You believe me, ’Duke ? I never told you s. wilful lie, did I ‘2" Two heavy tears, long gathering, roll down my cheeks. ” Never," replies he, hoarsely. Silence follows his last word. We stand very near, yet separate, gazing into each other’s eyes. Presently, impulsively, his and moves. and closes firmly upon mine For an instant longer we gaze. and then I am in his arms, crying as if my heart would break. “ Phyllisfhow 02m you ask ifié? To care for that worldly-wise woman, when I have yolfiq lqve, my_ ow_n darling, myAangel !" “ And you will never speak to her again, will you, dear ’Duge?” _ ” (5h, iny pet I You forget she is a. guest in the house. How can I avoid speaking and _bping oivilfio her ?” " You don’t care for her; say you don‘t oarerx-yprg’ I sob, entrentfiingly.’ ' This is bouiforting ; 1t divmoét sdfinda as though he were calling her bad names, and I sob on contentedly from the shelter of his arms. PHYLLIS. BY THE DUOKEEB- Country Lite. quite friends again I and we have not been that for a long time. Oh, is not jealousy a. horrible pain ‘2" And to be wrath with those we love Doth work like madness on the brain. quotes ’Duka softly. “ In all began by Mark Gore telling me you ygreloncg eggagefl tohlgulanch Going.” " What a. lie I" cries ’Duke, so eagerly 11119.1: I cannot; choose but believe him. “ How often am I to tell you I never loved any one but Zou ?” ‘ _ ‘ _ - “ That is another thing. Men always imagine when they form a new attachment that the old one contained no real love. What I should like to know is, how many you asked to marry you.” My words are uttered jestingly, yet his face changes, very slightly, ever so little, yet it certainly changes. Only a little pellor, a. little faint contractionâ€"nothing more. It is gone almost as soon as It is there. “Inever asked Blanche, at allevents," he laughs, lightly. And not until many days has come and gone do I remember his singular hesitation. CHAPTER XXVII. Two days have passedâ€"two days that have brought back to me all the light and life and gladuess of my girlhood. Never since my marriage have I been so happy as now. Marmaduke and I are the best of friends, there is not so much as a shadow of a cloud between us, and I have convinced myself that, as I was the most foolish girl in the world, so I am now the luckiest, and that ’Duke is the dearest old boy to be found anywhere. If I still feel guilty of having no passionate attachment for my husband, I console myself with the thought thatI am probably incapable of a grand passion, and that happily I shall get through life all the more comfortably in consequence. Harriet and Bebe notice the new rela- tions existing between me and my husband with undiaguiaed pleasure, but wisely make no comment. Sir James sees it too, and once, in passing me, smiles, and pate me approvingly on the shoulder. Dora. and George Aehurst are too much taken up with each other and their approaching nuptials to notice anything but their own tastes and predilectione. But Blanche Going sees it with an evil sneer. In is 3 o’clock in the afternoon. Outside, the world is looking cold and uninvitiug; inside 9.11 is warmth and apparent 00n- tentment. Some of us are in the billiard-room, knocking about the balls, but doing more talk than honest work. I for my part am starting for a. brisk run to the gardens, with a View of bringing Cumming to order. Uummins is an ancient Scetohman, old. crusty, and valuable, who has lived as head gardener at Strnugemore for more years than he can remember, and who has grown sour in the Csrrington service. Having made himself more then usually obnoxious today, and declined to part with some treasured article of his rearing for any one’s benefit, the cook has tearfully appealed to me, and I have promised to exert myself and coax my own gardener into giving me some of my own property. Throwing round me, therfore, a cozy shawl, fur-lined, and covering my head with the warmest velvet hat I own, I sally forth, bent on conquest. The air is keen and frost-bitten. As I hurry along one of the smaller paths, hedged in on either side by giant evergreens, With my chin well buried in my fur, I come suddenly upon Sir Mark Gore, leisurely strolling, and smoking 9. cigar. “Do you not ‘1” exclaims he with a rapid vehement change of tone. “Then I shall explain. Iam not so blind butIoan see now all that has been happening here during the past month. Were you jealous Ever since my explanation with Marma- duke I have carefully avoided Sir Mark. Not once has he had an opportunity 0! Speaking with me alone. Not once have I suffered him to draw me into personal eon- versabion. Consequently, I am doubly put out and annoyed by this renoontreâ€"oon- science telling me he cares more for me than is at all to be desired. “ I suppose," says Sir Mark, very quietly still, “ when a woman has led a man on to love her until he is mad enough to lose his head, and imagined he has awakened in her mind some faint interest in himself, she is not to be held responsible for any mischief that may come of it. . I say I sup- pose not. But it is, perhaps, a little hard on the man.” - ' “ I do not understand you,” I any, out!) as much calmness as I can summon, though. in truth, I am horribly frightened, and can feel my heart; beatmg heavily against my side. “ Then I think you have treated me very cruellyâ€"wer capriciously, considering all thi_nga._” The last words are barely distinct; he is evidently usmg great self-control ; but in my present nervous state. all sounds are very clear to me. “ What things, Sir Mark '2" I demand, with an irrepressible touch of hauteur. He is looking steadily at meâ€"so steadily that in spite of myself, to my mortifiuation and disgust, I feel I am blushing furiously. Still I hold my ground; I absolutely decline to let my eyes fall before_ yin: Seeing me, he flings the cigar over the hedggamfl opmgs m_ore quickly forward. “‘Oh, don’t do that,‘7 I 33y, as uncou- oernedly as I well can; “you have reck- lessly wasted a. good cigar. I am in a des- perate hurry. and cannot stay to interfere with: ygurpmoking." " In the first place, I do not. acknowledge your 'this.’ You only imagine my manner changed. I certainly have no motive for being rude_ tp‘yqu.” " It is the simplest thing in the world to light another,” replied he, coolly. " But what a day for you to be out I I heard you say at lunch you meant going, but felt posi- tive this bitter wind would daunt you. May I accompany you in your desperate hurry ? Is it an errand of mercyâ€"a ease of life or death ?" His easy manner reassures me. “ I am going to entreat Gummins,” I say, laughing. “Don‘t you pity me? Cannot you understand what a difficult task I have laid out for myself? No, I think you had better not come. I shall be able to use more persuasive arts it left to deal with him alone." " Your own conduct, Do you think I have not seen. and felt your changed man: net 7” He is speaking almost in an under- tone. “ Were I your greatest enemy, you could not treat me with more diatom cool- nese. You scarcely deign to speak to me ; your eyes carefully avoid mine; you hardly answer when I address you. Surely you must have s. motive for all this.” " Offended me ?” I atammer (when peo- ple are unexpectedly asked an obnoxious question, what would they do it they could not repeat the queationer‘s words ?). “ Of course you have not oflended me. How could you? What can have put such a ridiculous idea. who your head ‘2” “ I would back you to win were he the King of the Cannibal Islands himself. It I must not. witness your triumph, may I at least be your escort to it ’2" ” Ye-es, if you wish it," I say with obvi- ous unwillingness; but it is such a. little way now it scarcely seems worth your while." “I think it very well worth my while, and accept your gracious permission," with a. quiet stress on the adjective, and a. determination not to notice my evident objection to his company. So there is no help for it, and we walk on side by side in silence. “ Why do you avoid me, Mrs. Carrington ? What have I done to be tabooed as I have been for the last two days? Have I ofiended you {Dummy vyay T: 1 can éee he is obstmately bent on being my companion. and grow once more dis- quieled. Presently, in a low voice, he says aud- denl_y__a.nd_ without pgefaoq :_ of Marmaduke? Did you imagine he could lwe another, when you were ever before him? Did you seek to revenge yourself upon him by turning your sweet looks and sweeter words upon me, by showering upon m'eflshvl- flagâ€"(shaman m'ad'dening grioei of which you are capable, unLil you stole the veryjqeagb 03169}! 91y bofiy ?" “Oh, don’t I” I cry, tremulously, recoil- ing from him, a. look of horrified amaze- ment on my face. “ You do not know What you are saying. It is terrible. I will not listen to you.” “ Yes you will,” fiercely. “ Does it hurt you to hear me ? Does it distress you to know that I love you? I, who have never loved any oneâ€"that I love you with a as- sion that no words could describe? on have ruined my life, and now that you have attained your object. have satisfied your- sell! of Marmaduke‘s affection, you throw me, your victim, aside as something old, worn out, worthless, careless of the agony you have inflicted. It is coldI cruel, innocent children like you. who do all the real mis- chief in this life. Do you remember those words of Moore’s? they haunt me every time I see you: Too bright and fair To let wild passions write One wrong wish there. I believe you are incapable of loving, though so loyeable in ngrself.”_ " You have said enough; is it manly of you to compel me to hear such words? Surely you must have exhausted all your bitter- ness by this.” “ ‘Reprouch is infinite and knows no end.’ Yet of what use to reproach you? You have a. heart that cannot be touched. Poasibly you do not even feel regret for whafi you_h8._ve done.” “ You shall be obeyed ; for, I have finished. There is nothing more to be said. I was determined you should at least hear, and know what you have done. Now you can go home happy in the thought that you have added one more fool to your list. Yes, I will cease. Have you anything to say ‘2” M‘V'VSi} Mark, I entrantâ€"I desire you to cease.” " Only this; I desire yeti will'leave-my house without d_e!a.y.” _ ‘ My lips are white and trembling, but it is anger, not nervousness, than; affech me now. “This moment, if you wish it," with short laugh. u - “No; I will have no comments made. You can easily make a. reasonable excuse out of your letters to-morrow morning. After all you have said, I hope I shall never see your face again.” “You never shall, it it depends on me.” “ I regret that I ever ” “ Oh, pray leave all the rest unsaid, Mrs. Ostrington,” he interrupts, bitterly. “ I can fancy it. You regret, of course, you ever admitted such a fallen character within your doors ; Ihave insulted and wounded you in every possible way. So be it. You say so, therefore it must be true. At the same time I would have you remember, what is also true, thet I would die to save you from any grief or harm. If," sinking his voice, and speaking in a. slow, peculiar tone, " it you are ever in deep trouble, and I can help you, think offne.” I have accomplished my purpose, and will probably, nay, certainly, not be called upon to see the dreaded features of Sir Mark again. Early to-morrow morning. I trust, he will be beyond recall. It never occurs to me to think what hours the trains leave Cnrston, which is our nearest railway station. To-morrow, too, I shall explain everything to ‘Duke ; to conceal the real facts of the case from him, even for so short a. gime, grieves me sorely. I am impressed without knowing why. It is as though some one had laid a. curse upon me. Igrow as white as death,and my breath comes from me in short, quick gasps. At this moment, a deadly fear of something intangxble. far off, of something lying in the mystic future, passes over me like a. cold wind. “ May I?” he asks“, humbly, and with the natural grace that belongs to him. “ It! is a farewell.” Sir Mark, raising his hat, draws near. He figkesitgy philled, gloyelearsrhand. ~ Oppreesed with my nameless terror, I cannot: reply. I scarcely hear him. Stoop- inahe lsyq his ligp lightly giggly hgnd_._ " I won’t be an instant," says ’Duke, and scrambles through the performanaa wit/h marvellous rapidity, getting down to the drawing-room before the second gong sounds. . The touch recalls me. With a shudder -I snatch away my fingers, and drawing back, sweep past him in eager haste to rid myself of him and the evil tears to which his words have given rise. A u “ As soon as ever I can. Oh, ’Duke, there in a. quarter-pasta ohlming, and you not: dreased yet. Hurry ; it will be dread- tul if neither of us can show at the proper moment.” I hurry on with partedlips and trembling pulses, anxious to escape. Crossing the rustic bridge that spans a small stream at the end of a pathway, I glance instinctively backwards. He is still standing motion- less on the exact spot where we parted, his arms folded, his head bare, his eyes fixed upon my retreating form. Again I shudder an_d_hasten_o_ut o_f sight. “ I don't think so. I put on very warm things. But, Marmaduke. I would hke not to go down to dinner. Do you think my £3anng away would appear odd?” “ Carfiainly not, pet. I will explain to every one. Bed is the best place for you. Promise me you will go to sleep as soon as you can.” I have made up my mind to say nothing to ’Duke on the subject 0! Sir Mark until the latter is well out of the house. So for the present 1 permit my husband to think my alight indinpoaition about the worst of its kind ever known. “ What can have given it to you ‘2" he says, damping my hofi brow with more than a. woman’s. gentleness. ” Itold you, Phyllls. it; was very foolish of you to ven- ture out of doors tic-day; I hope you have not got 9. chill.” “ The delicatesh touch possible, if you please. sir,” says Martha, warningly, who doesn’t believe in men, as she leaves the room. She is dreadfully old-maidish, this favorite attendant. of mine, but she adores mgand with me to he lovefl is a necessity. I have said, “ I will never see his face again.” To carry out this design I determine on sufiering from headache for once in my life, and by this means abaenn myself from dinner. Armed with this resolution, I go swiftly to my room as the early night closes in, having lingered in the gardens as long as prudence would permit. Throwing myself upon a sofa, I sum- moned the faithful Marthe. and declare myselt unwell. They hardly constitute a. lie, these words of mine, as my temples, through excitement and uneasiness, are throbbing painfully. I feel feverish, and miserably restless, though myfoolish super- stition of a few hours since has resolwd itself into thin air and vanished. Still, how can I draw breath freely while “that man” continues to haunt the house ? “ Deer, deer me, m’m," says Martha, coming to the front, as usual, with mourn- !ul vehemenoe, and an unlimited supply of remedies. “ You do look bad, to be sure. You really should get advice, m’m. There is young Dr. Manley in the village, as is that clever, I do hear, as he can cure any- thing ; and you are getting them headaches dreadful frequent. Only two days since I used a. whole bottle of odycollun upon your pore forehead. But vinegar is an elegant thing, and much stronger than the ody. Shall I try it, m’m ?’:_ “ No thank you, Martha,” I say, feeling hysterical ; “ I prefer the ' Ody ;’ " where- upon Jean Maria Farina is produced, and I am gently bathed for five minutes. Marmaduke comes softly in. “ A headache, darling,” he says, with tender commiaeratian; “ that is too bad. Martha give me the bottle. I will see to youILmiehrese. I beg'ix": presently to tahoy what they may be saying and doing down in the dining- room; and,so isucying, it suddenly comes to me, that; I am healthy and decidedly hungry. When going in for a. violent head- ache. I certainly had not counted upon this, and laugh to myself an the trap of my own making, into which I have fallen. Ill or not ill, however, dinner I mush and will have. I ring the bell and summon Martha. “Well, m‘m, are you anything better ?” asks that damsel. stealing in on biptoe, and speakingin a. stage whisper. 3' I 9.51,” I resvpoud, Eriskly, sitting up ; “ and oh, Mariam, it; is odd, is it not, but I do £951 50_ awfully hungry.” A “ No, do you really, m’m ’2” exolaims Martha, delighted; “ that's a. rare good sign. I éon’t hold with no appetite, myself. Lie down again, m’m, quiet-Ilka, and I’ll bring you up a tray as ’1 tempt you in two minutes. Alibtle bit of fowl, now. and a slice of 'am, will be the lightest for you; and will you take Moselle, m'm, or Cham- pagne ?” u ‘ “ Moselle.” I reply, feeling something of the pleasureable excitement of long ago, when Billy used to smuggle eatables into my chamber of punishment; “ and Martha, it there in any orange pudding, or iced pud- ding, you _know, you might ” “ I‘ll bring it, m’m,” says Martha. And presently I am doing full justice to as dainty a little dinner as Martha’s love could procure. I sleep well, but permit myself to be persuaded into staying in my room for breakfast. After that meal downstairs, Marmaduke comes tramping up to see how I am. It is 11 o‘clock ; surely Sir Mark can have made his excuses and taken his de- partyre by this time, “ Is he gone ?" I ask, in a. hollow whis- per, as ’Duke enters my room. “ Who '2” " Mark Gore.” “ No, not yet. Did you know he was going ‘2” looking much surprised, and seat- ing himself on the edge of the bed. " I did. I desired him to go. Shut the door close ; and I will tell you all about it. But, first, ’Duke, before I any one word, make me a. vow you will not be angry with him or make any notice of what he has done.” “What has he done?" demands ’Duke, growing a trifle paler. " “Ndharm to -any one. Make me your vow first.” “I vow, then.” says he, impatiently. And I forthwith repent to him word for word all that passed between Sir Mark and me, in the evergreen walk. A prize of 100.0001. awaits the lucky dis coverer of an infallible remedy for cholera. This sum lies at the disposal of the French Academy of Science. “The soounirel!” mys ’Duke, when I have finished. "Yes,juet eo,"ea I. “Ireally think he must have gone ma. . However, there was no excuse fox-it, so I simply ordered him out of the house. He looked dreadfully unhappy. After all, perhaps he could not help in."_ A littie girl joyfully assured her mother the other day that she had found out where they made horses; she had seen a man finishing one. "He was nailing on his lash toot." ‘Duke laughs in spite of his anger, which is extreme. A little girl who was watching 8. balloon ascension suddenly exclaimed: ” Ma. I Shouldn’t think God waggld like to have the men go up to heaven alxve." “ or all the conceited little women!” he says. “ What gave you the headache last nighi? “Wag “his oonQuot ?_” _ “ Well, I think it was founded on a deter- mination not to see him again. But I was afraid to tell you anything then, lest; you might refuse to sit at the table with him. or be unoivil, or have a row in any way. You will remember your promise, ’Duke, and let him go quietly away. An explan- ation would do no good. Once he is gone, will not signify." “ He used to be such a good fellow," says ’Dulgg, in t} puzzled, provoked tong. At Vichy, the other day. several blue and many real dresses of some light material, trimmed with Bulgagian soarfs of batiste embroidered with gold thread forming im- possible varieties of flowers. At the .Casino ball the “ carnation” dress was really a pretty thing. A profusion of small flounces on the skirt, pinked out and striped (geneb ally in two shades of pink) so as to ro- duos the effect of the flower. The ho ice, which had ssquare opening in front and behind, with short sleeves, was of crepe de chine of the darker shade of pink, with vel- vet oarnations on the shoulders, on the bosom and at the left side of the waist. “ Well, he is anyihing but; that now,” reply I, with decision. " If you go away now, ‘Duke, I think I will get up. I dare say he will be on his way to London by the time I am dressed.” I get through my toilet with a good deal of deliberation. I am in no great hurry to find myself downstairs; I am determined to afford him every chance of getting clear of the premises before I make my appear- once. A new kind of jacket for evening wear at the seaside has made its appearance, and is worn with a skirh of batiste and lace or viougna, as the case may be. The jacket, of gray or blue, is tight-fining. with dark velvet collar and cuffs. Very smart jaekets of the same kind are made in white cloth, with chestnut velvet; collar and oufis and gold buttons. For very slender figures there are pretty Hungarian vests, short and tight, and covered with gold lace. The old- fashioned cache-poussiere is now quite ex~ ploded, and is replaced by the Grand Duchess rediugote or pelisse, of a light gray maherial, covered with embroidery of the same color, and as long as the dress: When dressed to Martha's satisfaction. I go cautiously through the house, and, con- trary to my usualcustom, makestraighh (or Marmaduke's study. Opening the door without knocking, I find myself face to face with Marmaduke and Sir Mark Gore. I feel pemfied and somewhat guilty. Of what use my condemning myself to solitary confinement for so many hours, if the close of them only brings me in contact with what I have so striven to avoid? London Truth says: ” The young Duch- ess of Feltre and her sister, the Countess d’Albufem, have set; the fashion of wearing white muslin dresses once again. The Ikltfi is made with innumerable tiny box pleats, edged with Vsleneiennes lace. The bodice, also pleated, with s. V-shsped opening and short sleeves, is veiled by a fiehu of Valen- oiennes lacs. of which the ends, tied behind, form a. very pretty poufi. A straw hit, trimmed with black velvet and wildflowers, is ‘ your only weat’ with this dress of Arosdian simplioity.” Marmaduke’s blue eyes are flashing, and his hps are white and compressed. Sit Mark, always dark and supercilious, is looking much the same as usual, excepfi for a certzmn bitter expression thafi adorns the corners of his mouth. Both men regard me fixedly as I enter, but with what differ- en§_feelings "What charming wifely conduct 1" says Sir Mark, with a sneer ; " not only do you confide to him all your own little afiairs, but you are ready also to forgive him any pecoadilloes of vghich he has been guilty.” â€" I feel ‘Duke qu‘iver with rage, buv'layi'ng a warning pressure on his arm, I succeed in restraining him. Marmafiuke holds oufi his hand to me, and the flash dies in his eyes. Sir Mark’s lipa_f_orn:1 the one wozjd_ “ fglge." _ “No, I am not false,” I protest, vehe- mently, putting my hand through Manna.- duke’u arm. and glancing at my opponent defiantly from my shelter; “ ’Duke is my husband; why should I hide anything from him? I told you I would conceal nonggg.” Some Latest Fashions. (To ba continued.) Life and Adventures 0! n Noted War for- respondentâ€"The Campaigns of Anion and Europe as Described bv n M nn 0! the Pen and Pencilâ€"Graphic Touches. Mr. Melton Prior, of the L’lustrated Lon- don News, may be regarded at the present moment as the dnyc‘n of English wsr oor- respondents in native work. Dr. Russell, of Crimean renown, is long out of harness ; Mr. Archibald Forbes is in retirement and Mr. Cameron, who in many respects is the first man of his day, did not enter the field until after Mr. Melton Prior had gone through halt a. dozen campaigns. Mr. Prior, says the Pall Mall Gazette, entered ‘ the profession at the end of 1873, when he lelt England for the Gold ~ Coast in Sir Garnet Wolseley‘s expedition, together with Mr. H. M. Stanley, Mr. Henty and others. Since that time he has been constantly on the run, travelling round the world at least once and. taking part in no less than eleven campaigns in ten years and a half. He has gone through all his were without harm, save one wound. In the Russo- Turkish war he had his boot torn off by a. ‘ shot or shell, inflicting a. slight soretoh; but it healed much more rapidly than the ugly out which he received from 9. fall when at Suskim, and the wound of which was unhesled for months. He has thrice been down with quinsy, and once some home with rheumatism, which lsld him up for three weeks. On one occasion Mr. Prior’s horse was shot through the nose, and at another time a bullet embedded itself in his saddle. But with these excep- tions Mr. Prior has come soathless through eleven years of probably as much excite- ment as has fallen to the lot 0! any mortal man in our day. " My first campaign,” said Mr. Prior “ was that in Ashantee, and it was one of the prettiest campaigns in which I have been engaged. It was not without some atifi fighting. I have seen Ashantees, Besutoe, Fingoe and Zulue in the field, but none, for headlong, desperate valor, were equal to the men who fought under Osman Digne. The Zulua were breve, but when a. hundred of them charged, if fifty of them were shot down the other fifty deemed it prudent to retire; whereas at Tameei, when a. hundred Arabs charged, it ninety- mne were killed the solitary survivor charged just as steadily as it ell his oom- rades were fighting around him. hence you had to kill them all, whereas in the other oases I have mentioned there was no need to killhslt or even a quarter of the number. “Another time. at New Year’s eye, at the time o! the qonierenoe, I was in Stam- boul at night with a. fellow correspondent o! the name of Dow. A fanatic touched " In Turkey I had one or two narrow escapes. I had chucked apretty Bulgarian girl under the phiD, and that ni ht her father went for me when I was as eep. I fortunately woke in time to scare him with my revolver, hitting what I thought was himself, but which was only his shadow, with three bullets. My Circassian and dragomans blazed after him with their Winohesters, but he got off soot free, drop- ping his sword, however, close to my couch. That outrage upon a representativo of the press was avenged by his house being burn. ed to the ground by order of the Turkish commander. But aiiarward, I need hardly remark, I did not prolong my sojourn in the Bulgarian village.” ‘ ‘ " My second campaign was in Spain. I went from Madrid to the seat of war near Pampeluna with King Alfonso. The train passed through the Carlist country, and at one point it was very smartly peppered by the Carlists from the neighboring hills. Several bullets crashed into our carriage, in spite of our barricading it With cushions. but fortunately no one was hurt. Why the Oarliets did not throw the train off the line and capture the King I never could understand. Living in Spain is about the worst of any civilized country. Outside the best hotels in Madrid every- thing swims in oil. After the Garlist war was over my next experience of absolute fighting was in Herzegovina. Nothing could be kinder than the conduct of the in- surgent leaders, but the conditions of campaigning were very severe. On one occasion, when I was coming down to Ragusa, I travelled five days without food. MONTENEGRIY WARRIORS. Splendid savages were some of those in- surgents ; although some were perfect gentlemen, others were magnificent brutes. Peko Pavlovitoh was one of the latter. He could neither read nor write, stood about six feet six inches, wore armor on his body, and, although personally most courteous to me, was the purest savage I have ever seen in a white skin. I was sitting beside him when a soldier came with a flag of truce from Moukhtar Pasha asking permission to send Victuals to the beleagured fortress of Govansko. Peko Pavlovitch could not read, but he looked at the paper while the contents were being interpreted to him. He then tore it into fragments, flung the paper into the messenger’s face, and, waving his hand with a savage expression, declared : “ That is my answer.” The messenger went downstairs. Before he reached the landing I heard a groan. The man was killed. “ From there I went in 1876 to replace a colleague at the close of the Serviau campaign. Servia is a picturesque country, but the Servians were poor fighters. Their Russian officers were gentlemen. The Russian volunteers were brave enough, but many of them were not proof to the seduc- none of raki, any amount of which could be bought at a penny a glass, and six glasses were quite suflicient to make any one drunk. There was one terrible scene which I witnessed there. When the Servian army was in full retreat from Deligrad it dashed through Poraehin. It was a regular sauvc qui peut. and the artillery galloped full speed through the helpless fugitives. I saw a child knocked down and ground to death beneath the wheels ol the cannon as I was watching the rout. After Servia my next cam- paign was in Bulgaria, where I was attached to my Turkish headquarters on the Lom. That was much the most terrible war in my experience. All that is worst in campaigning was concen- trated in Bulgaria. Bulgaria is the flower garden of Europe. The loveliest roses skirt every cornfield. The inhabitants are indus- trious, although suspicious. But during the war of 1877 it was converted into a hell. In no other campaign have I seen towns looted and burned, villagers burned out of their houses, women outraged, prisoners tortured and all the other incidents of Turkish War. For the Turkish soldier individually I have the greatest regard; kind, hospitable, he bears hardships with- out a murmur which would have driven other soldiers to mutiny. He drinks nothing stronger than water, and waits death at the hands of his incompetent physicians with unflinching courage. His abstemiousness enables him to survive wounds which would have carried off any one else. WOUNDED PEOPLE a “ It is surprising what difference there is in individuals in the bearing of wounds. I have seen a man need to be held by eight persons while a whitlow was being lanced. I have seen another smoke his pipe while his leg was being cut cfl. Of course, it is easier to bear the pain of an amputation When you are already suffering intense agony than if the operation were inflicted upon a perfectly sound limb. When a man is struck by a bullet he seldom feels any pain. He feels the blow as it some one had struck him with a fist, but it is not for an hour or two that the wound begins to smart. One English ofiicer in Ashantee went about for some time with a couple of slugs in him without knowing that he had been touched, and it was only when his comrade noticed the blood that he was aware that he had been wounded. ME LTON PRIOR. SERVIA AND BULGARIA . me. I turned around and he spat mu m mytaoe. I had a thick atiokin my hand and. without. thinking of what: I was dying) I struck him aorosaxbe face ae hard aa'I could drive. In a moment the situation dawned upon me, zmd we tosk to our heels as fast am ever we rem 5.21 our lives. The cry, ‘ Giaou‘v 1’ rose on ever side, and the entire popmaaion, dogs. and men, gave chase. 15mm an exciting moment, but I reached the Galata Bridge in safety, resolving next time to take all things, even spitting upon, without: resentment, when I was alone In a Turkish quarter 0! Con- atanqinople. n n “ Apropos of the Comtantinople Confer- enoe,1m&y mention that I also attended the Berlin Congress, where, thanks chiefly to Count Herbert Bismarck, who was exceedingly kind. I was able to sketch the Plenipotentiariea as they entered the Con- gress Hall in the Radzwill Palace at Berlin. He also took me over his father’s palace, and enabled me to take a. sketch of his father’s study.” 'l‘lnillipz Adventure at an American Traveller. The advent of Diaz to the Presidential chair is hailed with delight by the entire population of Mexicoâ€"natives and foreign- ers alikeâ€"writes a correspondent to the San Francisco Alta. The programme set forth by the future President exhibits a vast series of reforms which Wlll greatly tend to make the country a safe and pro- fitable one for the investment of foreign enterprise. The Mexican tariff is to be thoroughly revised, and the influx and efflux of money will be unhampered by the , Mexican Central and other roads travers- ‘ ing the territory. duties now on them. The railroads and telegraphs will have due attention given to them, and the system of brigandage now so widely practised to the great detriment of travel will be entirely wiped out. Apropos of train wreckage, I may as well give my personal experience on one of the wrecked trains. to show the determined character of the lawless wreckers on the While en route to the City of Mexico, and within about ten or eleven hours of our destination, at a place a little above Queretaro City, and between 8 and9 o‘clock at night, a sudden shock was felt on board the express train, the cars cvsrturned, and a number of rifle and pistol shots were heard in rapid succession. The train had been going at about 22 to 23 miles an hour when the shock was ex- perienced, and all the occupants of the cars felt assured that train wreckers were on the alert. I was violently thrown from my seat on the left-hand side of the Pullman car, and, as the car turned a complete side somerset, I was precipitated from the cp- posite window and landed in a ditch of soft mud, fortunately sustaining no other injury but that of soiling my clothes and losing my watch in the mud. I, however, had a narrow escape from losing my life by being shot, as, when I landed in the mud, and had barely risen to my feet, a full bearded desperado presented a pistol to my face, the cold muzzle touching my forehead, and this contact, cold and sudden as it was, coupled with the dimly discerni- ble determined visage in front of me, made me feel anything but pleasant. In less time than it takes me to tell it, I raised my head, drew it back and slightly to the right, when the pistol exploded alongside of my left cheek, the powder burning the side of my face. I knew that I had my revolver in my little satchel which I kept slung over my shoulder at my side, and I instinctively felt for it there. I had just got itout of the satchel and cooked it as the desperado pre- sented arms again. I raised my hand to fire on him, but before I could get sufficient elevation my arm was struck down and the pistol exploded prematurely, and my enemy received the ball in his hip, causing him to fall to the ground in great agony. He levelled another shot, which I sue- ceeded in dodging, when the rurales, or native police, came upon the scene and arrested and disarmed him. During this time some twenty or thirty shots were exchanged, and no less than thirteen psi- sons were killed, eleven of v. E...“ were Americans. The engineer and fireman were both seriously wounded, but the conâ€" ductor escaped With a few bruises. Eight of the train wreckers were captured on the spot, and. from what was gathered after- ward, fourteen in all comprised the gang. The eight men, including my wounded adversary, were taken to Queretaro and shot the following evening. The ditched cars and engine were replaced on the truck the next day at daylight by means of a gang of laborers, brought on by the construction train which had been tele- graphed for. Four more of the wreckers were caught the next day about sixteen miles from Queretaro by the rurales, and they shared the same fate as their con? freres, only in a different and more sum- ‘mary manner. The fate of these four men was singular, to say the least, and, though their punishment was well merited, it was executed in a peculiar manner. The rurales, haying captured their prisoners at a considerable distance from the town, knew that they would have a long journey before them, and that, when they reached the town, they would have t) remain several days before the trial and identification of their prisoners took place ; so they proposed to their prisoners, as they were unobserved, to ‘go “ leg bail ” and “skip,” or, in other words, to escape. The prisoners, nothing loath to regain their liberty, made double- quick tracks for the woods, shouting mer- rin at their escape from durance vile. Their hilarity, alas! for them, was prema- ture,for hardly had they gone a dozen paces when the rurales levelled their Winches- ter repeating rifles and sent death- messengers through the bodies of the would-be runaways, killing them on the spot. The rurales then took the dead bodies and brought them into Queretaro, stating to the authorities that they had to about their prisoners in order to prevent their escape, and pointed to the bullet holes in their backs in verification of their statement. This is no romance, but an actual fact. Gen. Disz proposes to have traimwr‘eoking episodes such as I have just related, matters of very rare occur- rence, and what With these and other -reforms of alike nature, foreign powers, and the United States in particular, will have occasion to bless the day that once more placed Porflrio Diaz in the presi- dential chair of Mexico. Butler will be 66 years of age the day after the election, ' ' Old Grimes is dead, That'g'ood old’men.’ and carried the air through. I was inn;- ressed and much amused. ‘ Ah,’ said my riend, ‘ there is more 1n my boy then ap- pears on the surface, it it could only be developed. My farm is mortgaged, and I can't afford to give him an education} Send him to me, I replied; I will put him to school. So he did ; young David became a. lawyer ; in ten years he had paid ofl the mortgage on the old farm; and later, as Governor of Ohio, he saved the nation frcu dishonor.” In his speech at the recent meeting of Cuyahogs. county (Ohio) pioneers, Judge R. P. Spslding told a story about Gov. Tod. He was at one time visiting Judge Tod and commented upon the beaumiui voice at the latter's daughter. “ Yes," replied the judge, “ my children all sing,” and he called his son David. “A greener lad I never saw," said Judge Spalding; “ a great, awkward lcub, dressed in jeans and home-spun, with a. rough, stolid countenance. ‘ What is your will, father 7' he asked. ‘ stid.’ said the judge, ‘ I want you to sing one of your nice songs for this gentleman.’ Wish- ouh expression, without moving a muscle of hisfaoe. he started: ' NIEXICAN TRAIN ROBBEKS. “'hat n Song Bid [or u Gluka Boy. About our lot in life, we cannot deny that any are exemfi, bl their p .smirn from the common lg n! pain and buffwring. The highest, as m,“ n, he nmut rumble, must he ever 011th ‘1‘ r H, z ‘ advantage of such means as Win luAiLV'U when pain makes relief a necessity to our comfort. By a. letter from “ Government House, Okla-we," asking for a supply of Putnam’s Painless Corn Extractor. we are reminded 01! two things : first that some are universal, and secondly that Putnam’s Painless Corn Extractor is recognized by all classes as the most certain, painless and non-poison- ous remedy for come. Beware of the article just as good, and use only Putnam's Extractor. Revenge must be sweet to one who has livedlong on pickles. The proof of the pudding is the eating, and the proof of the extraordinary power over pain of Polson’e NEanmE 18 in using it. Poleon’e Nerviline never fails to per- form wondera in every ease of pain. It cannot fail, for it 13 composed of powerful pain-subduiug remedies. It goes right to the bottom, and pain lfl banished at once Nerviline cures all kinds of pain, interns. or external. Go to any drug store and get a 10 or 25 cent bottle, and be delighted by its promptitude in doing its work. mnnshi at the SPEND!) IAN B BINEBS CODING intro moi: Okoulul ma â€"Th&t wonderful catholioon known as Lydia. E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound has given the Indy a. world-wide reputation for doing good. It is a. living spring of health and strength. The £9.11 overcoat belongs to the clothes of the year. A special train made up of thirty trucks, built expressly for the German-Russian Company, of Berlin,lelt Cologne station a. few days ago. On each of the trucks is a. tmk of the capacity of 3,000 gallons. The train is to be used for carrying petroleum from the wells in the Caucasus to Germany. THE VOLTALIO BELT 00., of Marshall. Mich. offer to send their celebrated ELECTno-Vonwmla BELT and other ELECTRIC APPLIANCES on trial for thirty days. to men (young or old) afflicted with nervous debility, loss of vitality and man- hood, and all kindred troubles. Also for rheu matiam, neuralgia, paralysis and many other diseases. Complete restoration to health. vigor and manhood guaranteed. No risk is incurred as thirty days trial is allowed. Wnte them at once for illustrated pamphlet free. Talk about a. man turning a woman’s head! Isis passing smother woman with a. new bonnet that does it. Mosquitoes are beginning to bunch their hits. U S. E.. Lecturer on the Eye, Ear and Throat Trinity Medical College, Toronto. Oculiehsn Aurisn to the Toronto General Hospitalfln Clinical Assietanb Royal London Ophthalm Hospital, Moorefleld‘e and Central London Throat and Ear Hospital. 317 Church Sheet Toronto. Artificial Human Eyes. Will reopen on September 2nd, 1884. It is the oldest and largest Ludies'Colletze in the Dominion Ha: over 180 graduates. The building coat 8110.000 and has over 150 reams. Facultyâ€"Five gentlemen and twelve ladies. Music and Art specialties. Address thel’rinoipal, For an of those Painful Complaints and‘ * * ‘y‘v‘u-alrncuscs so common to our best *F‘?‘ * * * * ' FEBIALE I‘OI’ULA’I‘IONJ‘ ‘9 * *Ifi WESLEYAN LAlltiES’ COLLEGE. HAMILTON. CANADA, mam E. PENKHAM’S‘ * VEGETABLE COMPOUND; * as * * * EAEQSMELULF '* J“! * as " IT WILL CURE ENTIRELY THE WORST FORM 03“? 1 MALE COMPLAINTS. ALL OVARIAN TBOUBLES‘, INâ€" FLAMMATION AND UmenATmN. FALLING AND Dm- PLACEMENTS, AND THE CONSEQUEN’I‘ SPINAL WEAK- ans, mm m PARTICULARLY ADAPTED 'ro Fm CHANGE OF LIFE. * * * * * ‘ 4 * 4+ . *1 * 1T mm. 1 F7 A‘ID r ' Tumons FROM THE . i‘.\( w DEVELOPMENT. TH! 'ms Hcmonsgnmxmgpnncnp‘ WVCéligglmtgâ€"bbflfiéfLEdiea' Regular Course. padiea' Fine Arts Course, Ugmpnergiallgouraa, * IT “'IIIL I]. Dumas 1‘: A: ' "1’7 A‘II) 1‘ (THE TUMORS FROM THE‘ 2; «w DEVELOPMENT. TI!!! TENDI‘VC‘I‘F I ( 'A . we Humans THEREIBCHECKED' VY ..HIL‘«:.*****:‘ I “xnsa, FLATULETI; “ITFTTIOYB ('LAXTS, AND 1mm .\1.6 \y RISK-1 AI. 11‘ cums BLOA'X‘ING, HEM}; ACIIE, NElL\'U\ i‘nosTnATION, GENERAL DEBILI'I‘Y,‘ DEPRESSION A :) lxmv won. * * * ‘l‘ . * Tum FIST-‘1 I“ . . v \quo Dowx, CAUSING Pm. WEIGHT r ALWAYS PERMANImTLr CUREDBYITS UNI. * * X- * * *1... * IT \VILL AT ALL Tums AND UNDER ALL 01m:me STANCES ACT m IIAIL‘IONY WITH THE LAWS THAT aovmm THE FEMALE SYSTEM. * * * if . * [FITS PURPOSE IS SOLELY FORTHE LEGI'I‘IMATII HEALING or msme AM) THE RELIEF OF PAIN, ANi') THAT IT DOES ALI, 1T CLAIMS ‘TO DO, THOUSANDS 0 LADIES CAN GLAL‘LY TESTIFY.‘m * if * * For: THE CURE 0F KIDNEY COIIPLAIN'ES EITHER SEX THIS REMEDY IS 1?. :mmssm). ‘5‘ , “ LYDIA F PINKIIAM'S VEGETABLE COMPOUND 1. \1 II(‘IEI‘.\‘X. 1“. LESS OF TIH‘I L For ladies and gentlemen atg ;Ajacjlitiesflunrivallgda. When 1 sn cum I do nun mmm :xmrely tonp 136m I5, n [hue and t 1cm have then: return again I moan a. null- cal cum. I have mmln 11m \Iiscune of FITS, EPILEPSY or FALLING SICKNESS a ,- lnug study. I warrant my remedy m cum tho wuw m Because others have failed Is no reason for n " . A owing a cure. Send 3: once {or a troutlso an n M 11mm) of my Inmlllbla remedy. (“m Expl‘um .m x a: Ollico. 1t coat: you nothlnfifor sum], and I will a 5m]. ddmss Dr. 1;. 4;, Hum .413 Pearl Sn, NewYork. prepared at Lynn, Mms. Price 31. Six bottles [61" 5'. Sold by all drw v lots. Sent by mail, postage paid, in ford: of Pills or L mes on r: f‘ipt of price 11.: nlvove. Mn. Pinklmm’s “(:1 10 to llmllh’fixilllmmnill-d free 'to'in'y Lady sending stump. Lrt‘m rs cnnl‘d Bally answered. 0 ‘ No family should b0 ’IHIUIW ‘ x m . ll. ’INKIIAM'I IVF PILLS: They Cousin! Ljylhlnligusnessynd Torpuhty of {herfivucfi M) rhnfé 13r~151>0i Vb'ifiaid‘m: 014.} Marshall. Myg Wmawmuumurnmuxzm .a 3% A?ng TEQEAL Woodstock gollege. Yovm; MEN lâ€"BEAD Tins ,R. G. S. BYERSON, L. R. (LP. EYE, EAR AND THROAT. km. N. WOLVERTON. B.A., Principal. Complain as “'13 May WOODSTOCK. Results Tell. PLACE no secure a Basin“ Education or 8 nncerlan Pan 5113951112 at u a SPENCER A. BURNS, D.D., LED. ONT. terma very moder-