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AGORDON’S PRIDE Ethel was undecided as to how to meet Sir Oscar. It was useless to send excuses or make delaysâ€"the task must be accom- lished. She thought of going down to reakfast, and than walking out with him ; but, when she rose from her seat to make the necessary change in her dress, her limbs trembled so that she could not stand. She could not go down to breakfast and. talk and laugh with those around herâ€"she, with her strength all gone. She decided at last to write a note to him. It said simply,â€" n v 1 A; A“: ___II " DEAR Sm OSCAR,â€"I do not feel well enough to go down to breakfast to-day. Will you meet me in an hour’s time by the lakeside? I have something very impor- tanfi to a».ij you.” The msid to whom she intrusted the note smiled with delight. She little guessed the depth of despair in the heart of the hapless girl who had written it. Sir 0509.: did not smile as he read. He knew Ethel so wellâ€"he understood her pride, her delicate reserve, her modesty. her graceful reticenee so well -â€"that to him this little note augured ill. The “ something ” she had to say puzzled himâ€"he would not ayes think that she was about to reject un. “ I am sure she likes me,” he said to himself. “ She is so proud that. it she did not love me, she would never have allowed me to kiss her handâ€"she would have dis- missed me with a. word. It must be some ahg, girlish idea." 1-! . 1,4 2., ‘L- u_,., a-â€" _-._ , Lady-Sh. fiéfihnn did not! feel in the leash degree anxious about Ethel’e absence from the breakfast table._ “ She likeszaliéeb her lover in suspense,” Lady Sb.Norma.n told her husband; and he la._ughed ab thajdgaym n“ ,u :-A_ _:__ -"'-fill’1;;1_awi)r‘;lidiéi}lrlike Ethel does give up herliberay," he said, “ I suppose the hagpy lover_pays dqalzzly ‘19; its.” , ,|,- :___|.:-L 'rr r'w ~77. 7 He never dreemed them the shadow which had so long darkened his daughter’s lite was to become perpetual gloom. Sir Oscar went to his appointmenfi; he was imgafiient to know what: Ethel had to say to im. He saw her in tube distance, sitting under the shade of the large cedar-tree. and his heart beat as he drew near her. His hope failed when she raised her color- less less to his. “ My denreeh Ethel,” he said. ” I have hastened to obey you: wish. I hope you have good news tor meâ€"you have been thinking of when I have said, and you will primiee t9 be nay vgite '2‘:n L. _-_ __ L-.. ‘_,.___.._ __ He sat down by her side ; he saw on her lair {we the traces of her long night-watch, and he wondered silently what she was about; hp say. 9 “ I! there was any prayer I could urge that I have not urged already,” be said. " I would use it, Ethel. I left my life and my love in your hands ; you will give me something _in return get them ‘2” “ I aeugfariyou, Sir Oscar.” returned Ehhel, “ to tell you that I am grateful for your loveâ€"for your kindnessâ€"but that I oagnever be your wife." -.....-n “ My dearest Ethel, that is a neat little speechâ€"one that you have evidently learned by heart ; but I refuse for one moment to believe that you mean it or that you'intend to be so cruel no me ; yqu oonld not." “ I am sorry;”;lié falter-ed, “ but indeed it is true, I opnnoq marry y_c_>u. Sir 930M." Her ‘voioe éeefiaoralbered that he hardly recognized it; and the music seemed to have died out o! it. Still he did not believe ; it was shyness, it was ooynesa, it was a desire to tease himâ€"it could not be true. He knelh before her as one who sued humbly for the favor of a queen; he took the white cold bends in his and looked up into the exquisite hoe. " You oennot mean it. Ethel. See. dearest, I kneel toyou. Pray do not send me away from you. You do not know how dearly I love you. If you were to tell me to die for you, I would do so with a emile on my lips ; but I cannot leave you. Ethel. There are some things beyond a. man’s strength ; that is beyond mine. Let death oomfit needs must, but: not life without n (1-,, n,____ u -L- " I cannot marry you, Sir Oscar,” she repeatedâ€"and something in the wistful anguish of her face told him the words were true. “ Ehhel," he asked. " do you love me 7” She raised her beautiful eyes slowly to his. and in their shadowed depths he read nothing hut_deapei_r_. ‘ ..u- u H, 7 “ Yes," she Feplied, " I love you. I might say ‘ No,’ I might speak falsely,I might make some evasive answer, but it would be useless, quite useless. I love you, Sir Oscar, but ; u_a.n nevag_be your wife." w"Hivs faoovflhrshed as he listehed to her; the hapless expression of her face, the dreary sound of her voice filled him with dingy». _ __ _ “ Ethel," he said, gently, “ will you answer me one question? When a man has to die, he may ask for a reason. Tell meâ€"do you love any one else ‘2” “ No,” she replied, sadly “ I do not.” " Have you ever loved any one else ‘2” “ No.” she answered, earnestlyâ€"" never in all my life.” “‘E-ietfioifi’éénnoh marry me 1 0h, Ethel, you are saying it to try me 1 You cannot be in egmeat, 13y Ileautigpl lpyq _I" " It is true. Sir Oscar," said the girl. “I love you alone of all the world. I shall never love any one else, let me live as long as I may." He looked thoughtfully at her. " Ethel, you know that Lord St. Norman not only favorable to our marriage, but he is desirous of it." ” I know that," she said. “ There can be no objection on that score. If your father were unwilling, however dearly I might love you. I would not urge my suitâ€"honor would forbid it ; but he is anxious for our marriage. Ethel. I am rich enough to be able to give you all the splendor and luxury your heart can desire. I cannot, look which way I will, find any grounds tor your refusal to marry me." u- "It is no'trfihnh I wdl not."'she said. sadly. “ You do not understand, Sir Oscar â€"-I cannot. It is hard for me to: I love WE": - .. . ~- I. ,, ,u !L “ I would to Heaven it were fancyâ€"1t is a. terrible reality. Sir Oscar, I love you. but can never be your wife because I have a secret in my l_ife_.”_ _ _ _ " A secret; Ethel I” be repeated. He looked at the pale, beautiful face, with its and, sweet lips and tender eyes. “ I should not one. my darling. it you had five hun. dred! Oh. Ethel, trust me; you are young and inexperienced, and what you deem of moment may be nothing after all. I am quite sure of one thingâ€"there can be noth- ing in your beautiful. pure young life to unflt_you_to be my wife." ' id’r’l‘hen, darling. be my wife; after allit can be but a. fancied sampleâ€"nothing more." The saddest smile film“ ever came over a. wouym'a ljpa or_o_aaed hqzjs. “Think you 16: your generous trust in me,” she responded; “ but my secret: will prevent my marrying you:" “ WI“ you trust: me with in ‘2” he asked, anxiously. “Not that I would know it from idle curiosity. but: that: I might help you, Ethel." a “ You cannot help me. I must: hear my sorrow alone until I die. I cling to your esteem. I cannot tell you my secret. Ba generous, and _do not ask me to do so." “ I would stake myexietenee on your good- ness, Euhel. It you yourself told me, I would not: believe that you had done wrong. I would never believe but that you are the purest and beet. even as you are the moat beaufiiful of women.” “ That depends on Wham you call wrong. 1 cannot tell you what I did. Iwillnot tell you my secret. I did not do wrong willingly. I was young. tooliah. blind.’ CHAPTER XXXVIII. Her voice died awn-y, and a. deep, bitter sob 05mg {rogn her ljpa; “Ethel. my darling, it you would but trust me I" he cried. “Ido trust you, but: I cannot tell you my secret. I can never be your wife. Sir Oscar. The gulf between us is one that nothing can bridge over. It is deeper and darker than death.” “ Then, Etnel," he demanded. in a voice full of anguish, “ do you mean that I, with my heart and soul full of love to: youâ€" wihh my whole life depending on youâ€"do you mean that I am to go away trom youI angnever ape yqu sggin '2" _ w..â€" â€"v .-- ..-- , -.. runv, . The passion in his voice startled her. She laid her white hand on his. “ I mean it, fiear,” she said, gently ; “ it mush be eo-â€"it1 cannot be helped." ” Not even it it breaks my heart. Ethel '2" "No.1: it it breaks your heart. and mine," she answered ; " we must path. and it will be unwise for us ever to meebygefp.” He buried his tune in the soft silken folds of her dress, and a. silence that was full of pain fell over them. When he raised his face again it was colorless as her own, with greal lines of pain round the firm lips. "as n L‘ -_:-.l a.-." 0â€"-.. .. .__ v, " How cruel women are! ” he cried. " The fairest among them are more oruel than the boy who cages a. bird and than tortures it to death. Ethel, you knew that I loved you, and you took my heart in your hands only to break it. Oh, cruelâ€"cruel and cold 1" “Nay, Oioar," she interrupted. “I stand on the threshold of a parting that will be to both of us more bitter than death; believe me. on my word, I did not think of love. I did not knpyv yeu loved me, I did not know that I loved you ; I thought that we were only deer, true friends. I never meant to love any oneâ€"the knowledge came on me as a. shock or a. ter- rible surprise ; but it came too late. You believe me, 0am»):3 do you not ‘2" p, u-.- ._-, -w-..7 ._. " My poor child, my poor Ethel. forgive me it I seemed to upbraid you. Darling. I would rather love you. and love you in vain than win the greatest affection from any one else. But, Ethel, this secret of yoursâ€"does Lord St. Norman know it 7" ' She looked at) him. her aweev has white with terror. “ No," she replied quickly; “ and you must not lead him to suppose that there is one, Oscar. He will think I am proud and cold of heart; he must think tieâ€"better anything than that he should suspect the truth.” “I wish you would trust me,” he said. “ This is not the age of mystery or romance ; what secret can a fair young life llke yours hold, Ethel. which should pre- vent your being happy ‘1". . She, listening to him, buried her face in her hands. weeping loudly. and crying thin in was all he: faultâ€"all her faultâ€"and that she was most bitterly punished for he: sin. Ethel was the first to recover herself. Si: Oseer was like one stunned by a sudden blow. Ethel’e words were so unexpected that for a. time they had unmanned him. She laid her hand on his, and looked at “ Heaven knows," she said, " that I would have borne anything rather than have inflicted this pain upon you. I did not mean in. Will you forgive me? The only pleasant memory I can carry wifih me through life isfihat you have forgiven me 1" AA ,L.__.. _ .1 him. " I have nothing to forgive," he returned gently. “I have told you,Ehhel. that I would rather be unhappy wifih your love than happy with the truest affection of another. You will send me from you,'then. Euhel?” "I must, there is no alternative. 'I send you from me in time, thahlmay meet you in etermty. I might have deceived you, and done wrong; but then there would have been no heaven to: me. I shall bear the pain of my life as bravely as I can." “You are so good, Ethel,” he moaned. " I am sure you have done no wrong." And then he looked at her white face. ” What am I to do, thel? How am I to bear my_ life?" wJSh‘t'aâ€"ifiought or his own words in Indies1 and longed t9 repeym them... ‘ :- “ Imush bear in, too,” he continued; “butit is the heaviest sorrow than ever man had to bear. Ethel. do you mean that I am to go back to Lord St. Norman, tell him that I have failed, and than go away without the leash gleam of hope 7 Do you glean fihat ‘2’: ,L, __U.|_-_: , u -â€": " There is no hope,” she replied; “ and I shall be grateful to you it you will tell my father. He will be angry and disappointed, but it: cannot be helped." “ I will do that, or anything else {or you. And this is the last time, Ethel, that I am to look into your beautiful face and hold hour hand in mineâ€"the last time I am to whisper words to you '2” “ Yes. it is the last time,” she answered. “ Ethel," he said. suddenly ; “ make me one promiseâ€"that it ever you want help you will send for me. I will not ask again what your secret isâ€"it you could you would tell me. But. it ever there comes a time when I can help youâ€"when a strong right arm, an earnest will, a devoted heart may be of service to youâ€"will you send to: me 2‘" “I will,” she said. “ Another request, my darlingâ€"i! I lie dying and send for you, will you come to bid me farewell ?" “ Without fail,” she promised. “ May I write to you. Ethel." he askedâ€" “ not often, but sometimesâ€"so that I may hear from yourself that you are living and wel ‘2” " It will be better not. Try to forget me, deerâ€"try even.it you can. to find some one else more worthy of your great and gener- ous love; try to forget me. for I can never be your wife, and we two must henceforth be as strangers." As she sand the words he saw her face grow paler. and he knew that her strength was last failing her. The greatest kindness that he could do for her wouldbe to shorten his terrible parting and to leave her. The same idea seemed to strike Ethel. She held out her hand to him. 76585:," she skid, gently, “ any good-by to me here and now.” He clasped he: in his arms, and she did not: shrink from himâ€"in was the last caress, sad and solemn as though she lay on her deathbed and he had come to say farewell. " Good-by. my loveâ€"my wife that should save been; my dear and only love good- y-_" 'He kissed the white lips, nob once but a hundred times. Strong man as he was, tears tell from his eyes. " Ethel, say one kind word to me, that I may take it with me through the long years to comfort me.” She bent her sweet face near his. “ I love you, Oeeer.” she whispered; “ good-byâ€"Heaven bless you and comfort you; good-by.” Gently and tenderly he unclesped her arms from his neck and placed her on the pretty rustic sent ; once more he kissed her lips, once more he said “ good-by, my love â€"good-by." and then. with an effort so great that it seemed to rend his heart, he turged n_wny end left her._ He did not look back; it he had done so he must have returned to her againâ€"and that his reason and judgment opposed. He walked with rapid footsteps toward the house, and was soon lost to sight. She watched him until his tall figure had dis- appeared between the trees. " Good-by. my love, good-by,” she repeated, with white lips ; and then, draw- iug her shawl around her, she sat perfectly atill. It seemed to her that she was passing through the bitterness of death. Hour after hour sped on, and still she set there, unable to move, dreading the time when she must lop}: l_i£e in_the glee again. ‘7' It I could but die hora,” she said to herself; “ it Heaven would take pity on meal and aepg :_ne etegnal‘ reel; 1" H, _L LL - _.... How could she go back through the sun- light to the house? How could she meet people, talk to them, smile on them? How could she play her pert in the daily round at life while her heart. was aching with terâ€" rible pain ? If she could but sit. there in silence until death came and took her from her sorrow. She could not find relief in tears, as some would have done ; her grief lay too deep for that. She had said good-by to him, her only love ; there was nothing now but patient endurance. Lite could give her no greater sorrow. and it held no more joy ; it was all overâ€"all ended. As she sat there in the glow of sunshine, her short sad life passed in review before herâ€"the happy, careless days, when her graceful, fantastic, imperious rule at Foun- teyne had filled the whole house with sun- shine, and her own heart with delight ; the days when she had rejoiced in her father’s love, happy and bright as the birds and the butterflies, desiring nothing beyond it ; the darker time, when pride, anger, and revenge had taken possession of herâ€"the short, fleeting fancy that had ended so terribly and so tragically. “ There is no excuse for me," she moaned -â€"“ no excuse; but was ever human being more hardly punished for their sin ?" I,AJ What great, unuttemble happiness had been offered to her, which she had been compelled to put asidel She might have been the happiest woman living. She might have been Sir Oscar‘s wife. All the love, the joy, the happiness that life holds might have been here, but she had been obliged to put it from her and think of it no more. She raised her white,despsiring face to the smiling heayens. T -. -. u .. u , ,,:s , IAL._L It was noon before she left the shade of the cedar-tree and returned to the house. Lady Sh. No man saw her walking across the lawn, and she wondered why she walked so slowly and so sadly. She looked at her faceâ€"i6 was colorless. with lines of pain all around the sweet. trembling lips. Lady St. Norman watched he: {01" some time in silence. ' -- I boave défived it all,” she said; u but I am hardly punished to: my sin.” ‘ "Ethelisfiik' she mid to herself; and she went out to meet her. She said no word when she came near herâ€"there was something in Ethel‘a face which forbade speechâ€"huh she went up to her room with her, and closed the door. Then. with open arms, she turned to her atepjaughteg. .. Wu,-A L. :A m "LIEâ€"{he'fiihhe said, gently, “ what is it ‘2' And Ethel, olasping her white arms round the kindly neck, hid her face on Helen‘s breast. “What is it. my dear?" asked Lady su. Norman. She felt. Ethel shivering like one exhre_m_ely gold: “ Helen." said the faint. broken voice “ you were always good to naeâ€"always kind to meâ€"ahield me now a. little. Stand between me and the wogldg’ V'_‘--I_w111,” promised Lady Sh.Norman; "tell me one thing, Ethel. Have you refused Sir Oscar ‘2” “ Yes," BEQV-fiafilied ; " I have refused 1111;], {mg he is gope.’{ u-r-u, " Try to sleep my dear,” she said ; “ your face is flushed, and your eyes burn. Would it relieve youâ€"would you like to tell me why you have refused Sir Oscar? I thought you loved him.” The girl turned from her with aweary nigh. " Do not ask me to do so. Helen. You have always been kind to me; but the greatest kindness you can do from this time forth will he never to mention his name again ;" and Ethel turned from the kindly taoe bent over herâ€"turned from the sunlight 5nd closed her eyes, like one tired of life. And then, w'iifiéin another word, Lady Sh. Norman laid Ethgl day"! upoghe}: bad. Lady St. Norman was considerate. She saw that Ethel was harassed by some secret sorrow. and though she was both surprised and puzzled. she did not comment upon it. With a grave, anxious look on her face she went down to Lord St. Nor- man. She found him alone, and certainly, from the expression of his countenance, looking not well pleased. q . u “ Helen," he said. " I cannot: understand this. Ethel has refused Si: Oscar, and he has gone away. I thought; she liked him. How difl‘iuulu she is to please I I cannot tell you hpw annoyed lag."_ It was the mission of this fair gentlewo- man to be a peace-maker. With a gentle caressing touch she laid her hand on her husband’s shoulder. " I know Leonard,” she said ; “ I am very sorry; but I want to speak to you about Ethel. Donot be angry with herâ€"she is not ypppy." “ She is never likely to-be," asserted hie lordship. angrily. " I wonder whom she would really think good enough for her ‘2" " Do you know what my idea in, Leon- ard ?" “ No,” he replied, softened by the sweet- ness of his wife’s voice end the grace of her manner. “ It is a. eeneifil’e idea I urn sure I" m‘rfliéiieve that Ethaiigjn spite of all her beaupypnd gigs. has had some great: so:- row ifi her fife." “ What sorrow could she have unknown to us ‘2" he asked. e v 52,.» “x V. > _ _ “I cannot tell“ gproud and reserved, you kn”; she has liked some one very giggly who has not cared for her; she I! ‘ fihappy; and I hhink that must be the finale. Do not say anything to her, Leon’irdi Leave her to me.’ He did not like the idea of his beautiful Ethel 5 being unhappy. _ _ Ten years had gradually changed Ethel She was a graceful, lovely girl when ehe went to St. Ine’e ; now at twenty-eight she was in the pride or her magnificent woman- hood. Sorrow hed done tor her what noth- ing else could have doneâ€"it had refined and increased her beauty; the glorious eyes were no longer bright with happy laughter, but in their wondrous depths lay something thet made one look at then: il'fiiiarhul’l i1th say afi'ything to her, Helen," he said. " You must manage her as you can. You understand her befits; than Iido." And when, after the lapse of a. few days, Lord Stu. Norman saw his daughter again, he said no word to her of Sir Oscar ; not when he heard that Sir Once: Charleohe had left England did he tell her about it. Ten years had passed since the fatal summer morning when Ethel Gordon had gone out to her fateâ€"ten long yearsâ€"and during the course of them she had never heard one word of or from Laurie Carriag- ton. She did not know whether he was alive or dead ; all she did know was that she was bound for life in chains. the weight of which grew heavier day by day. She did not want to hear from him. She did not care where he was, not what he was doing. He had duped her more cruelly than ever woman had been duped before. She detested his name, she loathed his mem- ory ; but across that detestation and loath- ing came the memory of the great, pas- sionate love he had borne her, and it soft- ended her heart in some slight degree. She never expected to hear of him again. It was ten years since that fatal morning. He might be living or he might be deadâ€" she should never know ; but her life would be passed in suspense. She was not afraid of his finding her. " If he had wanted to find me,” she said to herself, “ he would have managed it before now." u It was eight years since the summer morning when she had said farewell to her lover. During all that time she had never heard from him. His name was ocoeeion- ally mentioned in society. and strangers stated that he had gone to Africa. She heard of his travelling in Egypt and the Holy Land. She also heard people won- dering why he did not return to England and settle at home. But from himself she had no word. CHAPTER XXXIX. again and again. The exquisite face had never regained its dainty bloom, but the beauty of it was peerlessâ€"the sad, sweet lips, the tender, thoughtful eyes, were more lovely than ever. The graceful figure had reached its full perfection ; there was a queenly dignity about Ethel, a sweet, ten- der gravity that could come only from sor- xow patiently borne. Here was the peerless beauty of perfect womanhoodâ€"a royal flower of graceâ€"and she were her sorrow like a diadem. She had suffered long and keenly alter Sir Oscar went away, and then she learned more than ever to value Lsdy St. Norâ€" man's love and Wnees. Helen shielded her from the world. she saw that the girl’s heart was bruised ’end she did her best to eomlort her. She stood between her and all impertinent comment, all curious ques- tionsâ€"she shielded her from remark, she bore patiently with her long hours of weary abstraction and depression. Time passed on, and her tender kindness never tsiied. Lord St. Norman concealed his disappoint- ment as well as he could; it was owing to his wife’s gentle admonition that he never showed it to Ethel. For some fiars she had declined going to London during the season, and, finding that the idea of it only gave her pain, Lord St Norman ceased to mention it. It became a. settled thing that, when Lord and body St. Norman went to town, she should remain at Norman’s Keep. She so bon- stantly refused all invitations, that alter a time people ceased to invite her. She was obliged to meet the society that her father gathered round him, but it soon became an understood thing that Miss St. Norman “ never went anywhere.” _ 0! course people talked ; those who remembered her during her first brilliant season in London were astonished that she should never return to increase her tri- umphs. The grant people of the great world regretted the beautilul Miss St. Nor- man. Those who had been her rivals wondered at her ; people asked each other why she, who was so young and so beauti- ful, had given up the pleasures of the world. and had buried herself in the country. For the first year or two many invitations were sent to her, but she refused them all. “ You should try to enjoy lite, Ethel," said Lady Sb. Norman to her one day ; and Ethel, looking at her with Bad, sweet eyes, aaidszmplyâ€"’ _ V W155? 'people call life. ended for me 10128 ago. HPK9P-"_. It seemed like it. All her girlish vivaeity disappeared ; a sweet, patient gravity that did not belong to her years had taken its place. She offered no murmur, she uttered no regret ; she seemed like one who stood aside while her lile with all its crowd of events passed by her. There ould be no more change for her. Suns rose and set. tides ebbed and flowed, the seasons came and went, but all that was left for her to do was to wait in patience until the end came. Never more would her heart stir even faintly with hopeâ€"never more would joy or happiness still her pulse or flush her face; it was all over, and she was waiting for the end. How long would it be in coming? How many dreary years must pass first? For, though her sorrow was great, she had the gifts of strength and health. She asked herself sometimes how much longer these would last, and how far ed the longed-tor and could be. It might not come for years and years. She pictured the years as they spread out in dreary length before her. They would be spent at Norman’s Keepâ€" she would never ears to leave it again ; and each year would be the lastâ€"each would be dreary, hopeless, and desolate. So slowly and surely would ebb away the life that might, but for her own lolly, have been so bright and joyous; Cbeerfully she did all the little duties that tell to her lotâ€"she went to the village to asmst the poor and sick; and than people looked at the beautiful, saddened lace, and wondered why Miss St. Norman was differ- ent from any one else. “ While the Sabbath bells were chiming, she walked wihh Lord Sn. Norman to the grand old parish church. Those who saw her then never forgot herâ€"the beautiful, listless, weary face, the and eyes that always seemed to be looking so far away. the sweet lips that were so rarely parted to smile. She est in the old church, while the sun streamed through the windows and the children’s voices were raised in song; but those who saw her there said she looked more like the marble statue of a saint than likes living woman. To meet the requirements of a classic figure a lady should be 5 feet 4;} inches tall. 32 inches bust measure, 24 inches waist, 9 inches from armpit to waist, long arms and neck. Aqueenly woman, however. should be-5 feet 5 inches tall, 31 inches about the bust, 26} inches about the waist,85 over the hips, 11% inches round the bell of the arm and 6; around the wrist. Her hands and fact should not be too small. It she heard that any of the villagers were in trouble. she never rested until she had done her best to comfort them, but she avoided all scenes of gayety and amuse- ment. Lsdy Bt. Norman was distressed to see her turn one day taint and shudder- ing from tthe merry chimes of wedding- bells. yet neither Lord St. Norman nor his yvithe ever asked what had caused the change in er. , They were speaking at her one evening, when Lord Bu. Norman saidâ€" “ I am grievouer disappoinued in my daughterâ€"she is so changed, Helen. She used to be bright and lively ; her laugh was free and unrestrained. She was the pleas- anteet, sweetest; girl you can imagineâ€"even her pride, her petulance, her odd capricee, had a charm of their ownâ€"she had a quick word for every one ; now her pride, her vwepity, her girliehneea seem all to have died together. I cannot: imagine what has changed her." There is not the slightest certainty that any invention, however terrible, would put an end to war; while there is almost a cer- tainty that if such an invention were per- fected it would grievously increase the miseries of mankind. Taken in the lump, men will face any means of destruction whatsoever, if also they possess it them- selves. Give two men pistols, and they will fight across a handkerchief. They are not afraid of death, but only of death without a chance of victory. King Theodore of Abyssinia asked his courtiers. when the rocket sticks fell at his feet, if he could reasonably be expected to face things like those, and ultimately, in pure despair of defeating science with unscientific weapons, killed himself ; but if he also had possessed rockets he would have fought on. No men, not even Prussian sailors or English sailors, will face shells without shells to throw back; but when they have shells they face the enemy’s shell as bravely as they did the old round shot. The methods of war are changed by science, but war is not extinguished. Suppose it true that able chemists and mechanicians could invent a method of throwing asphyxiating vapor on a sln ping army, what would be the result? bust, the adoption of some protective covering, such as iron-clad huts for sleeping in; next, the adoption of a method of or camping which spread the army over a surface too great or too uneven to be reached; and next, the use of such devices as were used by the assailing force. Huxley would march with his fishermen to choke Tyndall and his Alpine climber. War would then consist mainly of efforts to obtain advantageous positions, from which showers of death would be thrown, but war would not cease. Forlorn hopes would be organized among chemists or mechanicians as easily as among soldiers, enormous rewards would be paid to the new warriors, and nations would fight each other as briskly as evenâ€"London Spectator. The Fighting Inning: Inn Man. (To be continued.) Curious Sights and Sound; at an Andam- sinn Courseâ€"Spectators who lnlerest the Strangers as flinch as the Sporls Doâ€"Gny Colors and Strange Musicâ€" The, Spanish Newmarkcl. The morning sunlight. flinging off one by one its tints and shades of pearly gray and delicate purple, settles down into the deep, concentrated, unwinking glare of a Spanish autumnal day, bringing out) the bold dark shadows of the broad orange tree leaves, and dropping the slender pomegranate foliage where the ruby-hearted fruit no longer lurks. Down on the white walls and duetyptreeis of the éndam‘eian town of J erez-de-le-Frontem falls the steady a‘unblaze and finds the place unusually stirring ; business is thrown aside, and the great monarch of the place (wine) rests for this day' at least in peace. and little obtains attention save particulaire of the anticipated ” Carrera dos oaballoe," which even excites something faintly resembling interefiin the listless, brown-funed Spaniards. who smoke perpetual cigarettes under the house walls. and whose eyes are ever closed under the knogted hendkerehiele that bind their hes. a. At the appointed time there lumbers up to the starting-place a vehicle chosen to carry us to the course, a distance of some six miles, and, atter taking in sundry promising packages of solids and liquids, away we go through the narrow street from the Fonda, as merry a party as the tradi- tional crickets. Witharattle and a jolt, and with the " crack. crack ” of the driver’s whip ringing like pistol shots, we strike into the ~long, brown, sandy road, where that abominable vegetable, the prickly pear, forms on either side a most formida- ble hedge. Broiling hot and duty stretches the way to the ground, not closely packed with lines of carriages, but bright with color and motley in character. Here comes a young Spaniard, driving his chest- nuts, there goes an Englishman, turning out as an Englishman should; now we I pass some muleteers, wearing round hats with aball on crown and brim, and with their waists swathed in gaily- colored sashes, who jog merrily onward, sitting sideways on their mules, and puffing cigarette smoke through their nostrils ; then a regiment of beggars, patriarchically bearded. ragged and filthy, exhibiting maimed limbs or huge scars and asking aims in the peculiar nasal whine in which Spanish mendicants always pester you in this land of pestering mendioants; next an Andalusian peasant, gay in costume and with his hair tied in a pigtail with colored ribbons, carrying a girl behind him on his horse, and after the style of the old English pillion -, then the inevitable boys, whose dirty white shirts are tucked into ragged blue or yellow trousers, over which are twisted sashes that have once been scarletâ€"boys who chant the monotonous country songs in a long-drawn ialsetto that sets your teeth on edge; and sweeping by comes acarriage full of senoritas, dark- eyed, black-eyed, and with that most use- ful and indispensable of instruments, the fan, going in full force. HOBSE RACING IN SPAIN: This road is in an uproar.for one carriage calleth to another; the ladies, pleased to get a day’s pleasure out at doorsâ€"not, I believe, a very usual occurrence, except when the family is more or less Anglicized â€"ehat and laugh with their fathers and brothers in the pretty, lisping dialect that gives the 2's, 0's and many of the s’s the sound of “th;” the peasants shout and sing and get generally excited at the dingy little "posado" among the prickly-pear hedges, where you obtainâ€"ii you can drink itâ€"country wine. but where the thoughtful proprietor also dispenses cold water at a farthing a glass. And so horses, mules, donkeys, carriages and people arrive at the ground, which is simmering in the heat like a huge oven. and decked with many sgaudy flag. from the red and yellow of Spain to our own Union J aek. Here we have mili- tary element enough! Soldiers to keep the ground and soldiers to look on; the little linesman, baggy as to his nether garments, improbable as to his forage cap, and somewhat slouching in his “set-up;" the cavalry soldier, wasp-waisted, clad in his sky-blue jacket abounding in braid, and carrying his curved sabre; the gendarme, quaintly cooked-batted, with old-fashioned lapelled coat, breaches and cross-belts. And there, somewhat less conspicuous, are others badged like watermen, and carrying old- fashioned pieces. on which the ugly little copper cap gleams ominously. These are the men appointed to act as constables. Whether they have now dispensed with their lethal weapons I cannot say, but on the occasion of which I am writing they bore them, and seemed quite prepared to use them it required, although the place was wonderfully tree from the genus “rough,” which, in sunny Bpain,is quite as dangerous and more deadly than his English counterpart. Jercz, which might almost be called the Spanish Newmarket, was the spot in which racing was first introduced in the year 1868. Since that time clubs have been formed at Seville. Cadiz, Cordova, Granada, Barcelona and Madrid. Lisbon alone in Portugal represents a racing centre. At almost all these centres permanent studs, paddocks and race-courses exist, and sport is carried on according to English and French racing rules. H. M. King Alfonso is astanch supporter of sport, to which probably his English military education gave him an inclination. and he is honorary president of all the above-mentioned clubs. The Madrid establishment. where the best sport now takes place, cost upward of £70,000. , We have not long to wait before a hoarse belljangles out its summons, and those engaged in the first race move up to the starting point with little ceremony, and a warm point they must find it, for the glare of the sun makes one glad to remain in the shady stand. or under the shadow of the adjacent paddock, as the course itself is a long flat of brown, flecked here and there with a tiny leafless flower, like unmelting snowflake, and without a tree to break the monotony, or a vestige of herbage save the spiky, dun-colored “monkey-date.” The gay colors of the ridersâ€"with few excep- tions amateurs-glance in the white and quivering sunlight, and as the winner rolls in, yells of delight break from the friends of the dumpy little Spaniard who has succeeded in passing the post before his rivals. And now the military band hlares out a somewhat brazen waltz. A good band it is, and powerful in lung. but still in the night season does that demon ophieleide revisit our ears. Never can we forget the weird power of that performer upon an instru- ment that shudders gloomin through the shriller cornets, and makes us think of Zamiel and that wonderful incantation scene in the wolf‘s glen. It is fitful, it is despairing, at times falling suddenly silent, when we begin to hope that fatigue has at length overcome him. We picture to ourselves his fainting and being supported by his condoling companions, when there bursts forth a note so low that it freezes the blood in our veins. It seems as though we can hear Plutto directing death to seize Sisyphus. when “ the voice went receding down the storm I" More racesâ€"notably in which certain Englishmen are prominentâ€"more music, more ghostly, brazen notes, and so the day runs on, and the races are all over, the jokes all said, and the wine all consumed, as hath been the custom of race meetings from time immemorial. In conclusion, I may add that some years have been passed since the meeting at Jerez-de-la-Frontera which I have attempted to describe, and alterations have been made effecting vast mprovements in Spanish racing. It may, perhaps, be of interest to give a few facts to show the position the sport holds in the estimation of Spaniards. The added money to the Peninsular races,vhieh amounted in 1883 to about} £8,000, is divided among three classes of horses: first, thoroughbreds imported; secondly, thoroughbreds in the Peninsula, and, thirdly, halt-brads (horses with any Spanish strain), Arabs and Barbs. The greater portion of the racing establish- ments are owned by Spaniards, but with few exceptions the horses are ridden by professional English jockeys. The scale of weights ranges from 50 to 80 koa, (110 pounds to 124 pounds). Over one hundred thoroughbred horses and mares have of late years been imported from England and France. I may mention Thunder- etone, Monkcastle, Monarch (by Lord Oliffi den), Britomartis (who was recently burnt “.n [L- to death in the royal stables), Rifle (by Mueket), Chaneello. (by Exoheequer). Fitz- Plutue, Pegnotbe, Double-Blane. Veeuve, J uventua (by Wild Oateâ€"Apology),a.nd Cor- nish. The most prominent among the large breeders of the thoroughbrede are the Duke of Fame): Nunez, with Pagnotte for a sire, and Mr. W. Garvey. a. noted sherry shipper at Jerez, with Monarch. The Marquis De Selbilo, of Seville, stands easily at the head of the breeders of the half-breed class. By royal decree a. peninsula: stud-book was started some hwelve menths age. _ _ The noble army of "bookies" is not largely represented in Spain. A few French book-makers attend the Madrid and Barcelona meetings, and the Pari Mutual system appears to be established at all the Spanish races, but betting does not seem to be carried on to a very heavy extent. Sport, however, is keenly appreciated both kw the Spanish themselves and the English residents, and I, [or one, wish them every success in their efforts for the advancement of honest end straightforward suing. flow it Appears to America’s Greatest English Friend. Said John Bright at the dinner in Lon- don to Minister Phelps: I believe the time will comeâ€"I do not expect to live to see it myself, although I may see some advance toward it, but I believe my children and grandchildren will as certainly see it as anything before the eye nowâ€"I believe the time will come whon the American nation, having, by vast sacrifices of blood and trea- sure, accomplished the freedom of menI the labor of the 'men will be as free as the bodies of the men. (Loud cheers.) The Duke of Argyll said the great men of nations help to form the greatness of nations. Well, I should say that these great nationsâ€"~the one on this side of the Atlantic, and the one that promises to be much greater on the other side of the Atlan- ticâ€"these two nationswill, to a great extent, guide the future policy of the world. (Hear, hear.) It often strikes me as a very curious thing that in America the Massa- chusetts man has not the slightest objec- ‘ tion to deal commercially with somebody in California or in the extreme South. in Louisiana or Texas ; but he has the great- est objectionâ€"no one can tell why, except that it is a superstitionâ€"to trade with peo- ple in Canada or in Great Britain and Ire- land. But why? If we were all shoved into the United States; if we were one country, with only one object, nobody would deny that anything would be more natural than that manufacturers of the two countries ‘ should intermingle, and everybody would ‘ agree that it was not only the best, but also the most profitable thing for the population of the two countries. (Hear, hear.) My point is that the great question of mili~ tary preparations, establishments and wars will receive in all probability a more complete solution by the free com- mercial intercourse of nations than from any other teaching; that if you allow the people of other countries frankly and openly to trade with each other, they will learn the lessons of peace from the pages of their ledgers. (Cheers). These vast armies in Europeâ€"you ought to thank heaven every day that you are not Europe (laughter and cheers)â€"these vast armies in Europe are kept up under the pretence and with the use of the argument that the people will bear the cost of them; they are kept up, it is said, to safeguard the peace of the nations to which they belong. There is nothing under heaven so adverse to peace as the establishment and maintenance of these great armies. (Cheers). I am satis- fied that, if it were possible for England and France and Germany and Austria and Russia and Italy to abolish the tariffs and let commerce flow freely, it would be beyond the possibility of King or Queen, of the Czar or Kaiser. or statesmen of any rank, to bring those nations to war. (Cheers). When Annie Leon left New York twenty- two years ago no attend her husband and son, who were mortnlly wounded at Gettys- burg. she lost her 2‘year-old daughter. The girl has jusfi been tound in a blind asylum It Columbul. 0. A few days ago the nobility of Russia celebrated the centenary of their rights and privileges as granted by Catherine II. The Emperor addressed them in along imperial rescript. highly praising their services to the throne and country and expressing full confidence in their continued fidelity and devotion. In all the principal towns of the empire the fete was kept with general accord,while at St. Petersbnrg and Moscow various ceremonies, processions and balls were arranged. One well-known member of the nobility signallized the event by entirely remitting all arrears of land redemption taxes owed by his former peasants, amounting to 280,000 rubles. Grant’s Family. A New York report says: Mrs. Grant will have a. competency from the sale oi Gen. Grant’s book, so that she can afford to lift the mortgages for $52,000 on the house at 3 East Sixty-sixth street. But the family will probably never occupy the house again. They never felt at home there after the removal of Gen. Grant’s war relics and memorial treasures in May. Gen. Grant’s connection with Grant & Ward led his relatives to invest their possessions with the firm, and when the crash came it swept away not only the fortunes of Gen. Grant and of his wife and three sons, but of tour families of blood relations. Gen. Grant felt responsibility for the support of all those dependent upon him on account of the failure, and for all of them he expected to make provision from what the book would yield. Mrs. Grant, who receives the benefit of the book without qualification, may use the money as she chooses, but she will undoubtedly tollow out Gen. Grant's plan of benefaction. She will sell the Long Branch cottage. Col. Fred. Grant will have ‘his tather’s library and all his papers, many of which are very valuable. Some of them are autograph letters of European rulers. U. S. Grant, jun., may remain on his_ New Jersey farm. Jesse Grant has a chance as engineer in a project for a rail- road in the valley of the Euphrates. Mrs. Nelly Bartoris will return to England, where her husband and children are. Fifteen thousand people attended the opening of the Chautauqua University. One 01 the insfixuohors, who conducts his examinations and gives out new lessons by ulnail, has now over 28,000 pupils in his 0 ans. Don’t hawk, hawk, blow, spit and disgust everybody with your offensive breath, but use Dr. Sage’a Oats.th Remedy and and it. New guaranteed cure for worse cases without use of knife. There is no longer any need of wearing awkward. cumber- some trusses. ‘Send two letter stamps for pamphlets and references. World’s Dis- pensary Medical Association, 663 Main street, Buffalo. N. Y. FUTURE 0]? THE STATES. Rupture, Breach or Hernia. The Manchester GUARDIAN. June 8th, 1883, says At one of the “ Windows” Looking on the woodland ways! With clumps of rhododendroma and great masses of May loasoms I 1! “There was an inter- eatjng grogp: -. “n u", van-5 sl-Vurl It included one who had been a “ Cotton spinner." but was now so Paralyzed! l I That he could only bear to lie in a reelin- ing position. This refers to my ease. “‘ I was Attacked twelve years ago with “ Looomoter Atsxy" (A paralytic disease of nerve fibre rarely cured and was for several years notable to attend to my_ businese, although VAn'd for the limit Five, years not able to attend to my business, although Many things have been done for me. The last experiment being Nerve stretching. Two y ears ago I was voted into the Home for Inuumblee 1 Near Manchester. inrMay, 1882, 1 9.113.110 “ Advocate”; ” For anything in the; slgape 9t patent." Medicineq ‘I - “And fonds insny objections to my dear wife’s constant urging to try Hop Bitters, but finally to pacify herâ€" Oonsented H I had not quite finished the first bottla when I felt a. ohsnge come over me. Tbs» was Saturday, November 3rd. On Sunday morning I felt so strong I said to my room companions, “ I was sure I could “Walk! 60 started across the floor and back. I hardly knew how to contain myself. I was all over the house. I am gaining strength each day, and can walk quite safe without any “ Stick 1 " 0r Support. I am now at my own house, and ho e soon to be able to earn my own living again. I ave been a. member of the Manchester ” Royal Exchange " For nearly thirty years, and was most heartily congratulated on going into the room on Thurs- d ay lest. Very gratefully yours, JOHN BLACKBURN MANCHESTER (Eng) Dec. 24, 1883. Two years later em perfectly well. ENone genuine without; a. bunch of green Hop: on the white label. Bhun all the vile poisonous atufi with "Hop" or "Hopa"iu their name. There are 51,252 poet-offices, of which 2,233 are worth over $1,000 each, and are filled by presidential appointments. The Postmaster General attends to the balance and has a very pleasant time of it. A terrible tragedy was happily averted the other evening by the presence of mind of the wife of one or our most respected citizens. The family consists of the hue- band, wife and two children. We briefly narrate the thrilling experience of this family. Mr. X. hurrielly entered the room where his wife and family were seated and from the determined expression upon his face, Mrs. X. saw at once that something was amiss. He demanded his razor, which had aecidently been remOVed The horror experienced by Mrs. X. may be imagined, and in order to devert his atten- tion inquired for what purpose he wanted, to use it. Imagine her relief when 11" stated his intention of removing a corn or two which ached terribly, and like a true woman she was equal to the occasion, for she had already purchased a bottle of Putnam’s Painless Corn Extractor, of which, on every hand, she had heard neth. ing but praise. Avoid the evils of domestic life by using Putnam’s Corn Extractor. a;me ’mranlog. 1.... The General Assembly of Scotland had the question of instrumental music up again at its recent sessions, and by a majority of a. 100 it was determined that the churches should be at liberty to intro- duce instruments of music into the service of praise whenever a. large majority of the congregation so voted. How many are necessary to make a" large" majority is not stated; heurln a red tin tag; that Lorillard’a Rose filenfflne cut; that Lorlllard‘s Navy Ulippillzs, and that Lorlllard’s Snufl‘s, are mu bust and cheapest. quality considered 1’ .L COMPLETE Lndles’ College in the Dominion; has over 190 graduates; has edu outed over 2,000 young ladies; has over [60 rooms and every convenience lot comlon and health. Unusual advantages in Music and Arc opens Sept. In. Address the Principal, A. BURNS, 0.9., 1.1.1.. (Mention this paper.) Ilene-I and True. This is eminently the case with Polson‘s NERVILINE, the great pain cure. Ihie an honest remedy, for it contains the mod poweriul, the purest and most certain pain eubduing remedies known to medical science. It is honest. for it does all it claims to do. It is honest. because it is the best in the world. It only costs 10 or _ cents to try it. and you can buy a bottle at any‘drug store. Nerviline cures toothache, neuralgia. pain‘ in the back and side. All pains are promptly relieved by Polaon'a NerViline. HE OLDEST AND THE MOST COMPLETE Lndles’ College in the WESLEYAN LADIES’ COL‘LEGE; HAMILTON, CANADA. Aaeamely religious subject to be dis- eueeed in the Congress of the Protestant Episcopal Church, in New Haven, next October, is “ The Ethics of the Tazifl Question.” that consumptives should be the least apprehensive of their own condition, while all their friends are urging and beseeching them to be more careful about exposure and overdoing '2’ It may well be considered one of the most alarming symptoms of the disease, where the patient is reckless and will not believe that he is in danger. Reader, it you are in this condition, do not neglect the only means of recovery. Avoid exposure and fatigue, be regular in your habits, and use faithfully or Dr. Pierce‘s “ Golden Medical Discovery." It has saved thousands who were steadily tailing. Nilsson is about to make her first pro-‘ tesslonal tour in her native Sweden since she became a. great singer. She was born in a woodohopper’s hut. in the forest of Wexico, forty-two years ago. Our 100. tins of PURE SPICE are perfection ; all our goods b1311de “}i‘_'._re” $21.8 guaranteed free from adul'; Laption. . DU'w’n BAKING- POWDER. 18“]7h {738 Best Friend.” .- PURE GROUND SHOES in all sized packages. W. G. DUNN & 00., 0111* DJIENDED COFFEE, sold ground and unground 111 11b. tms, m a perfect luxury. We import only the finest qualities 0.5 Coffee and Spice. The ‘1‘:- ade :, 'Lpplied with whole Roastm. carry“. Ground Coffees in AIR", ‘ T: SACKS, 01' 251betin85 ‘ ‘ ' T0 DEALER AND CONSUMER. CANADA MILLS. HAMILTON. [Listen to Your wue. A Terrible 'l‘rngt dy. I) 01ml.“ 39 85‘ THAT Lorillard’s Climax Plug Is it Not singular R. U. AWARE Eduoatlon or B enoerinn Pan mamaleJ II I a SPENCER IAB_ B_ BEND“ ODDDIBD PLACE to name a Enamel “Nation 9* Spenszrlayjlvn