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

“ Don‘t count your chickens before they are hatched," Is a. maxim that's ancient and hoary, To which there‘s a deal of importance attached Which may not be seen in my story. For chickens sometimes will come out of their shells And start independently crowing, And when prmnuturely a chicken‘s head swells You may guess 'tis presumptuous growing. But our children at present resemble the chicks, From the cradle they get prematurely, And urchins of seven with grown-up men mix And puff cigarettes quite demurely. VVl1iIe girls in short dresses, of tenderest years, An oldâ€"fashioned parent would sickcu, For the womanish mimner they put on appears Like the hcn's place assumed by the chicken. The day were on slowly; the snow fell heavily at intervals in great soft white flakes which covered the ground and lay there, blotting out all paths, and making the face of the surrounding country a pure white waste, over which it would be soon difficult to find one’s way. The stillness in the little sitting-room grew intense and almost oppressive; the fire blazed up brightly, and Shirley lifted Jip on to her lap; it was pleasant to feel the warmth and life of the little animal in this complete stillness. Her thoughts had wandered away back to the past, to that happy Christmas- day at Fairholme Court when she was engaged to Guy, and all her life lay before her, cloudless and serene, lighted by the sunshine of the love she had won. Hugh had been there alsoâ€"poor, hapless Hugh, who had loved her with that love which had been so fatal to them all, that love which had blighted her life and Guy’s and A Story of Woman’s Faithfulness. his own. Then she recalled other Christmas-days spent at Glynn and in London, stately ceremonious feasts which had wenried her excessively ; and the day of the preceding yearâ€"that awful Christmasday which she had spent alone in London, fearing dis- covery and detention, an unhappy fugitive from love and pelice and regt. "0,. .J... .xum “In. .0.» r- v- ____V Well, if it were to be done again, she would do it ; ili had been for thebest. What did her sufferings matter if he were happy with the sweet young girl who loved him and whom he loved? She could go away and drift out of Medge’s life as she had drifted out of Lucie’s and Ruby‘s, and out of the lives of all who loved her. As soon as the fine spring days came she would go away and seek another shelter. - u a,” I_,_‘:.‘,. , WW Sitting before her cheerful fire, leaning back in the low-cushioned chair, a thought struck her: she would write to Jack » she would tell him all, everything, without reserve, and ask him to advise her what to do. Perhaps he might even come home and fetch her. Dear Jack! He was well off now; his sojourn in India and the industry and steadiness he had displayed had won him a junior partnership in the firm; and when she had last heard from him, just before Sir Hugh’s deathâ€"she could not call it murder, even to herselfâ€"he was a wealthy man, and he had spoken of coming home soon. Had he returned? she wondered. Perhaps not. Perhaps, if she addressed aletter to him at Calcutta, it would reach him; for she could not recall his address. Dear Jack, who had never known the truth about her marriage! There had been no necessity to burden him with the knowledge that it was through him that such misery had fallen upon her: but he should know all now, and he would take her away somewhere perhaps where she could be quiet and at peace until the end came. She put the little dog gently from her lap and rose from her seat ; the afternoon was wearing on, but the dazzling whiteness of the snow prevented it from being dark as it generally was at that hour. Besides, the cheerful blaze of the fire lit up the little room, playing odd tricks with the shadows on the wells, and peering into far corners, as if to discover any lurkingintru- der. Opening a. little escritoire on the right-hand side of the fire, Shirley took out writing-materials and placed them on the table; than she trimmed and lighted the lamp, and moved over to the window to draw the curtain. As she did so, she draw back, with a little stifled cry of terror, and covered her face with her hands, for, pressed against the pane of glass, 9. face had looked in upon herâ€"a face with wild haggard eyes ~â€" 3. face which had disappeared immediately when thgeyes met hers. n... .,AJ _:n_ For afew minutes Shirley stood with her eyes covered, physically unable to move in her terror, her heart beating furiously, her breath coming in quick gasps; then, when she mastered courage to remove her hands, there was nothing visible but the window and the white road and the fields beyond. '1 - 1n nv,_:L L__L Ll... W, We. Had she been deceived? Was it but the force of her imagination, excited by her loneliness and the excessive stillness, which Worked upon her nerves? Had she really seen a faceâ€"that faceâ€"looking at her through the shielding glass, or was it there only a vision that she had conjured out of her excited fancy ’I Were her nerves giving way? Was her brain getting con- fused? Was she going mad ‘2 . 1 1 She staggered toward the window and forced herself to look out; but there was nothing in eight, save the snow which had fallen previously and a few slow heavy flakes which were beginning to fall ; the little dog, however, was running about reetlesely and barking excitedly, as if he too had seen something which had aroused his suspicion or his alarm. In an agony of terror Shirley dragged the our- tains over the windowâ€"she dared not open it to close the shutters which were outsideâ€"and crept back to her chair, trem- bling with a. terror which had taken all color from her face and lips and strength from her limbs. 1 know the summer's day is sweet, 1 know that Love is sweeter still, I know that bliss is ne’er complete, I know of no perpetual ill. I know that life has many sides-â€" That some things here seem hardly meet I knuw that baseness often rides While Virtue walks with wanrivd l'cut. Yet Ufuen want. rmd wealth, I know, “an... .. mm... “7,,” , But for each othvr‘s mask hm'u stvod Am! men, ! know, whcro‘vr we go, Arc most] y happy when they're gnml I know that Life, upon tho whole, 15‘. well worth all we have to give, And that tho grandvr is tho. goal So much the grander ‘tis to live. I know that Death is very nighfl 'l‘hat evil shrinks before his breath : That only goodness gives “ good-bye ?‘ A rainbow in the cloud of Death. “ Jip, come herel” she Whispered, as she cowered over the fire, feeling an icy thrill of horror which made her shiver from head to foot . but Jip, although he paused for a .momenb in his restless running to and fro, resumed it almost immediately, his un- easiness adding greatly to the terror the poor woman was enduring. ” Jipâ€"oh, Jip 1" she said pitifully, in a voice hardly above a Whisper, for her lips were shaking with terror. “ Come here, Jip l” But Jip, for once, was deaf to his mistress’ voice; he was flying about the room, scratching impatiently at the door, barking furiously and sniffing vigorously, and showing other signs of discomposure and perturbation of spirit. Something forced Shirley to open the door into the little passage for him; he flew out, bark- ing furiously and excitedly at the outer doorâ€"the door which Shirley had bolted so securely. _ Was it again the force of her imagina- tion acting IIpon he: senses, or did she really hear a sound, as if some one were stealthin trying the door from the out- side? Surely the handle moved! And, in an Ag’éfi’y'ét mortal terror, Shirley 'fled back into the sitting-room, covering her SHIRLEY ROSS : ks and (Yhildren. What I Know. face with her hands to shut out sight and sound. How long she knelt there with her head buried in her hands she never knew; but an hour at least must have passed, for the fire which had been just built up before the alarm cams was a. glowing red mass. For some time Jip had continued his bark- ing; but when she lifted her head he was no longer in the room. Trembling still she rose to her feet. All was quiet; there was not a sound to break the stillness, the silence which seemed so awful now to the terrified woman in her loneliness. She went to the window and drew buck the curtains ; but the snow was falling heavily, and she could see nothing. She closed the curtains and came back shivering. when a little moaning sound from Jip startled her; he was lying just beside the outer door, and, as he saw Shirley, he looked up at her appealingly with a pitiful little whine, turning his eyes to the door the next minute, as if entree-ting her to open it. Srirley hesitated and shrunk back. Was any one there ? she wondered fearfully. Was it some one who needed help ? Ought she to open it ‘2 Or was it all the effect of her excited imagination, her fancy which had seemed to look at her through the win- dow ? Since that was of necessityâ€"for the dead do not come backâ€"a delusion of her senses, the noise outside must have been also. Who would want to rob her ? she thought, with a little smile. What a. silly, fearful coward she was growingl Nerving herself for a desperate effort, she opened the door, and Jip sprang out joyfully. The snow was falling heavily, and some great, heavy flakes were carried into the little passage. Shirley shrunk backs little, then went forward bravely. As she crossed the threshold of the door, her foot struck against something lying there, and she bent down anxiously. The snow, falling so heavily over the road and hedges, had fallen also on the prostrate figure stretched senseless outside her door, and Jip was scratching vigor- ously at the snow trying to disinter it. With an exclamation of pity and compas- sion and dread, Shirley tried to distinguish who it was; but it was too dark. She guessed that it was a man who lay there, and that he was sorely in need of her as- sistance. Bending down, she spoke to him and tried to rouse him ; but it was in vain. He lay like a log, senseless and stupified ; and it was only with the greatest difficulty and with an immense exertion of strength that she succeeded in dragging him into the passage, Jip following with little, sat- isfied demonstrations of joy. Then, having laid him down, she turned and once more bolted the door behind her, leaning against it, panting and breathless from her exer- tion. After a. minute or two, she recovered sufliciently to bend over the man whom she had sucoored. There was not light enough in the passage to distinguish his features, but she felt that his heart beat, feebly indeed, but perceptibly; and she took courage. Once more she lifted him by the shoulders and dragged him into the sitting-room, leaving him there for a. moment while she ran for pillows, on which she raised his head. As she did so his hair fell back from his forehead, dis- closing the face upturned and senseless. A n Merciful Heaven, Whose face was that ? Was it another delusion, or was itâ€" The next moment B. shrill cry of terror rang through the quiet house. The Christmas holidays were over, and the village school had begun again. Mrs. Grant was looking rather worn and haggard; but the cold weather tried her, she said; and she was even more patient than was her wont with the girls, who were not improved by their holidays or rendered more willing to work. It was a very weary face which bent over the desk when the children had departed one afternoon and Shirley was alone. She was busy counting up the marks, for Lady Oliphant was to give some prizes, the distribution of which had been postponed on account of the absence of the squire and his daughter. Some singular change had taken place in Shirley during the past few days. It was not merely that she was paler and sadder even than usual, but there was a strange nervousness about her manner, an un- certainty, an indecisionI a shrinking, which were very different from her former quiet ease of manner, which had always been so remarkable. Any sudddn noise seemed to startle her. She rarely left the house, except during the time she was teaching; and she had dismisseél the little maid who had attended upon her, employing her only for anhonr or two in the morning to go down to the village to get the necessary sugplies. _ -- nnlfi": .,-| They trooped off, carrying their shouts and laughter into a field on the right-hand side of the hollow, and Madgewalked on and entered the school-hogethe bright eyes softening into tenderness and compassion as she saw the slender bowed figure leaning over the desk. As she entered, Shirley looked up with a start, and into the beauti- ful hazel eyes came a startled look of fear, which faded as she saw who the intruder was; and Madge came toward her, looking so bright and sweet in her sealskin and furs that the bare, empty-looking room was brightened_l_)y_ her presence. - 1‘1 1 1 1 ‘PMiss Oliphantfl did not know you had returned,” Shirley said as she rose to meet her; and Madge took her hands, and looked wistfully into_her face. _ . 1 These changes had not failed to strike the inhabitants of Erindale, and much curiosity had been felt about the dismissal of little Jane Austen, whose bright, helpful way had always made her a favorite with Shirley. That she had no fault to find with the child was evident from the kindness of her manner toward her; and Mrs. Austen, on paying the school-mistress a visit, had received an assurance that Jane was a very good girl and a useful little maid; and Shirley had no better reason to give for her dismissal than that she was going to try to do without any help for a little time. Mrs. Austen had gone away shaking her head and prophesying that Mrs. Grant would make herself ill with the work. “ We came home last night,” she said gently, as she lifted her sweet lips to meet Shirley’s kiss. “ And how have you been? How pale you are l_" ” Well, girls, are you having a good time of it ‘2” she said, in her bright sweet voice, “ You are making plenty of noise; and I am sure it is not fair that poor Mrs.Grant should have your noise out of school-hours as well as in! Suppose you go down to the next field and continue operations there; and, if any one tries to stop you, you can say that I gave you 16 ave.” M . A. . v, 1,, WI‘AAm I‘Z’ But I am always pale. you know. Have you enjoyed yourself, mv chi1d_? Hnye you bad a. nleasant Visit?” “ Very pleasant,” said Madge, gayly,the color deepening a. little in her face. “I will tell you all about it presently. I am going to have ten Wibh you. Why,” she added suddenly, as Shirley began hurriedly to gather her apers together, stooping over them to hi 6 her expression from Madge, “ are you not pleased to see me? You naughty girl! I have been looking forward so ardently to a chat with you.” They were in the very thick of a snow- balling match, flushed and excited, when Madge Oliphant appeared coming up the hill, and theflanow-balling ceased, while the rosy faces were turned toward Madge with a. smile of welcome. The school closed at 3 o’clock during the winter months, so that it was still daylight when the children trooped away, shouting and laughing, delighted to leave off lessons and to take to sliding and snow-ballingâ€"ior the snow was still resting on the hills and the weather was bitterly cold. V'ri “Am 'pleased to see Siou, of course,” Shirley said hurriedly. “ What could make you Euppgse ofslherwise?” ~1Ir 1, -.n “17 "Tiailrritiéeh’ said Madge quietly. “You look as if my proposal had startled you. CHAPTER XLII. “ And your poor little hands are frozen," said Miss ()liphant, chafllng them tenderly between her own; then, putting her arm round Shirley, with s. caressing gesture, she added softly, “ have you had any fresh trouble during my absence, dear?” Shirley started. “ No, no,” she answered hurriedly. “ What makes you think so ‘2" “ Your face again,” Madge said, smiling. “ It is a very tell-tale one, and it was not so pale as this when I saw itlast, and there were not those heavy marks under your eyes which are there now.” ” I dare say there is enough to make youa cup,” Shirley answered, forcing a. smile. “ Shall we go in, Miss Oliphant 2‘ It is cold here; the fire has gone out.” “ You have been seeing such rosy faces during your absence.” Mrs. Grant answered, forcing a. little laugh, “ that it is no wonder you think mine pale. En rcvamhe,” she added, “I have never seen you looking so well and bright, dear.” Have you not enough tea in the house '2" she added laughinglx. Madge laughed, colored, and put up both hands to her face with a charming gesture of shyness and hesitation ; then she slipped her gloved hand through Shirley‘s arm, and they went into the cottage together. The fire was burning cheerin in the little sittingmoom, but the room did not look so pleasant and home-like as usual ; it had a strange, unfamiliar look to Madge Oli- phant’s eyes as she glanced round her. None of the books were out of their places, the piano was closed, the pile of music all in order ; there was no work on the table, no pretty, picturesque litter anywhere. ‘ . Madge acquiesced; and then Shirley talked loud and fast and nervously, and moved restlessly about the room in a pur- poseless kind of way which Madge could not help observing. “ Papa. is coming for me on his way from Adinbrock,” she said, trying tonssume her usual cheerful manner. “ I had such a lot to say to you that I dld not want to be hurried away before it was dusk. Why, Jip, old man, where have you beenâ€"11p- stairs? Are you glad to see me?” she added, smilingâ€"" gladder than that naughty mistress of yours is ?" ” Won't you take 011 your coat ?” Shir- ley and nervously. “ You had better do so, or you will not feel the goof! of it when you go out again.” “ He cbulHnoh be that," Shirley put in, in a. low voice of pain; and Madge, with a. quick repentance, put her arms round her. “ Forgive me,” she said coaxingly. ” That was a naughty speech; but I am so glad to see you, dear Mrs. Grant, that it hurt me to think you are not equally pleased to see me." “You know that I am glad,” Shirley answered, gently disengaging herself. “Sit down by the fire, Miss Oliphant, while I see about tea.” Van‘IMVi‘srswdliphant ’ again,” Madge said, pettishly; "and I have so often begged you _to call yae.1Â¥[a_dge I” l , “1am afraid I cannot please you to- day,” Shirley said, with a smile, as she glanced over at the pretty dissatisfied face on which the firelight fell. “You always please me,” Madge said quickly. “But Why are you so very dig- nified to-day?” she added, with a little laugh. “I am almost afraid of youâ€"you keep me at such a. distance.” “ You fancy I do; but, dear, between the village school-mistress and Sir Frederic Oliphant’s daughter there is a Wide difference.” Shirley passed into the little kitchen, beyond, coming back presently with the tea-kettle,which she placed on the fire; then she began to prepare the table fer tea, going about it wish a. quiet grace which made the homely occupation a very pretty sight in Madge’s eyes. “ Where is Janie ?” she asked presently; and Shirley’s face was turned away, or Madge would have seen how the color rose to it at the question. “ “And we co'axed Guy and his friend Mr. Ross over to Cotsford,” Madge con- tinued, looking at the fire, her cheeks flush- ing a. little as she spoke. “And I’m sure it did themâ€"What is the matter? Are you faint ‘3” 7 “ I have sént her home. I prefer being without her,” she answered. “ You thought wrong,” Madge said, with a bright laugh and a hot blush. "He came back a fortnight ago, and he and a. friend are at Stuattleigh. Poor Guy 1” he added sorrowfully, a suaden shadow falling, upon the brightness of her face. “ Whyâ€"is be ill ?” “111? Oh, no! He is much stronger than he was last Winter; butâ€"Ah, well, soma day I will tell you all his story; and you will see Whether there is not some ex- cuse for the depression under which he labors sometimes." 77 All his storyl Did any one in all the wide worldâ€"did Madge herselfâ€"know that story 331 Shirley knfiewfl it ? she vyondqred. WShe put down her cup 119315in and went to Shirley’s side, for she was drooping over the table in a helpless manner which alarmed her guest. “Withoufi her!” echoed Madge. “But you surely do not intend to remain here along all nigh»t?”‘ “Do youvthink that Jane would be a. great protection?” Shirley asked smiling sligh’fly._ “ No; but it would not be so lonely for you. and she wee very useful. Did she dis- please you?" “Oh, no!” “ Then why did you send her away ‘2” “Because I preferred to be alone.” Her tone wee very gentle, but very firm, and there was a. short silence,during which Shirley busied herself making the ten. and Miss Oliphant sat looking into the fire, with a puzzled wistful expression in her blue eyes. _ â€". .. u I v'viu mini} ab'out it. Come, Madge, tell me about your gayeties. Is Cotsford a. niceiplacefl” _ 1.1 “Yes,” Madge said quietly, sipping her teaâ€"“ Major Stuart’s place. We drove over there; it is on‘y a few miles from Cots- fordâ€"three or four.” When the tea was made and covared with the pretty cozy, Shirley begged to be excused for a moment; and Madge heard her run lightly up the stairs, although she closed the door carefully after her when she went out. She was not absent many minutes; but, when she returned, it seemed to Madge that there was an added shade of sadness on'her face. “Where is Jip ‘2” Madge asked lightly. “He stayed upstairs,” was the quiet answer. “ No, don’t call him, dear; heâ€"he â€"he is so restless, he makes me nervous." “ Have you caught ‘cold “I” Maage asked, looking at her keenly. “Caught cold? No. Why?” " Because your voice sounded rather husky, and when you were upstairs you had a terrific fit of coughing.”_ All the color died outuof VShirley’s bee; and she rose hastily, going to the fire to put 50218 more wategnin. the .little teapot. “You coughed dreadfully: I Wish you would see Dr. Lloyd. You look anything but well. Will you let me send him up on my__way home‘Pi. _ I i 1.. ig‘ifééflhe house is very quaint and old and charmingâ€"not quite so large as Stuagtleighnbptfluiie‘ §s_ ancient”. H “Stutauytléigh‘P7 Shirley repeated me- chagicalrly: _ She went to the table as she spoke and began to pour out the tea. ; and, as she handed Madge a. cup, she forced a. smile to her lips. “And now tell me all about this delightful visit,” she said cheerfully, “ I am on tenter-hooka of curiosity, Madge, to know what made it so very pleasant.” Them-“e was a. slight hesitation ; and then Shir}ey__s_aid >1ight}y : _ “But I thoughtâ€"I thoughtâ€"Major Stuart wss abroad I" 1L “ Did you hear me?” she said unsteudily; “ I had no idea J gouléicquh sg loqd_," “ It is nothing,” she said. “ I am very sorry I startled you, Madge; but it is noth. ing indeed. You were saying you induced Major Stuart andv" A .. n . -r “'Are you really better? Mrs. Grant, I shall insist; on your seeing Dr. Lloyd,” Madge said», as_ahe wept {Back to he; sent. “ Dr. Lloyd cannot do anything for that sudden faintness, dear; it is an old enemy. Well, Madge, are you not going to tell me all your doings ‘2” “ I am so afraid of tiring you." “ Tiring me! I am longing to hear,” And the pale face wore an expression of eagerness add anxiety which made Madge smile. “You are a- regular daughter of Eve!” she cried delightedly. “ I am charmed to have discovered a. failing at last in this little perfect woman about Whom all Erin- dale is raving. Our dear model school- mistress is curious.” “ Madgie I" How pleasant; it is to hear you call me that 1" the girl said, smiling, as she drew up a. stool to Shirley and sat down at; her feet. “ Well, rewenons (1 nos moutommnos moutons being Major Stuart and Mr. Ross. whiféigfédr'iéiish Shirley acknowledged, with a forced smile. “ Gratifymy curiosity, Madgxe.” “ Mr. R053!” Shirley repeated, her heart bentjpg wilgly. ‘ “Yell, a. friend of Guy’s from India,” Madge said, a little shyly. “ How hot the fire is!” she added. “ls is scorching my face.” Shirley put both hands gently on the flushed cheeks ; Madge pulled them down to her lips and kissed them softly. “ Did you like Mr. Ross, Madgie ?” “ He was very nice.” “ Is he handsome ‘2” “ Yes, very handsome.” ” And did you like him, Madgie ?” Shir- ley persisted gently. “ Iâ€"I do not know.” The words were very shyly and sweetly spoken; and Shirley Wondered a little at the tremor in the girl’s voice. “ Is Mr. Ross going to remain in England ‘2” she said persistently. “UFor the presentâ€"‘yes ; he ahd Guy are coming to Erindale next week for a few dags.”_ «.fi..v. 1 u Coming to Erindalel It seemed as if Shirley’s heart stood still with terror at the very thought. Coming to Erindale! It was well that Madge Oliphant was too much occupied with her own thoughts to look up at the white stricken face leaning back against the chair. “ Papa. took such a. fancy to Mr. Ross," went on Madge‘s sweet, unconscious voice â€"“ he liked him so much that he is quite pleased at the thought of a. visit from him ; and you will see him too,” she continued softly, ” for we have talked about our model ‘school-marm’ until they are both quite anxious to see her.” A To see her! What new, terrible com- plication was this. Shirley felt faint und dazeLiAand giddy. _ “ They are coming in a few days,” Miss Oliphant went on. “ And I shall bring them to see Mrs. Grant, of course. But I should like her to be looking somewhatâ€"J She broke off suddenly and lifted her head with a. little gesture which commanded attention. “ Why,” she exclaimed ex- citedly, “ surely there is some one upstairs! I am certain I heard some one cough.” There is $25,000 in New York awaiting the order of John Anthony Barnes, who left Boston in 1868 and has not since been heard tram. “ It must be Jip, then," Mrs. Grant said, sitting up in her chair, quite composed now. “ You forget that he is upstairs.” .. . ...-.--. .11.. "I‘IJip could not cough,” Madge said dubi- ous]yâ€"-“ and it was a. cough I heard, I am sure.” M‘TJip often makes a growling noisewhich might easily be taken for a cough. Who else ppuld be pp there, Mgdgg ?” “ Papa,” she said. trying to speak cure- leiaslyI “ did you see a. woman dressed in black come out of the Oliphant Arms ‘2” “ Yes, my dear." “ You saw her? I wonder if the same thought struck you which struck me. I thought; her something like Mrs. Grant.” Vir‘r‘flft was Mrs. Granfi: Madge,” said Sir Frederic quietly. ” No one, of course, Without you knowing itâ€"unless some one might; have concealed themselves there to startle you or even do you an injury." nu. -n .1 u ., They did not start homeward for fully half an hour, for the squire had two or three people to see in the village ; and it was quite evening when they turned toward home. They had to drive through the vilâ€" lage, and, to Madge Oliphant‘s surprise, as they passed the Oliphant Arms, a slim figure in black closely veiled, issued from the public-house and walked rapidly away up the hill toward the school-house. Madge uttered a half stifled exclamation as she turned her head to look after herâ€"- something in the graceful walk and rather haughty carriage had reminded her of Mrs. Grant ; but the next moment she laughed the idea to scorn. Was it likely that Mrs. Grant would be at the Oliphant Arms at that time, or at any other? And yet the thought that it was she haunted her, al- though they were almost home before she put into_werds._ ‘ . . . ‘ “ You absurd child 1 It would have to be a. very small individual who could con- ceal himself or herself in either of those little attics. Why, I am up and down there constantly, and I could not fail to see anyone who was there! Besides,” she added earnestly, anxious to remove the idea from the young girl’s mind, “ Jip is such a. good watch-dog, you know, that if any one were there who did not belong to the house, he would never cease barking until he had the matter seen into.” “ At the foot of the hill,” he answered. “ I have one or two places to go to yet ;but I thought Mrs. Grant would have enough of your chatter by this time. Have I come too soon ‘2” too soon ‘2” “ I was in no hurry,” said Madgelightly; but she parted with Shirley With less reluc- tance than usual, and she was very silent as she went down the hill with her father, who fancied that her attention was occupied in picking her steps over the road, and thought no more of her unusual silence and abstraction. Il‘IYestnvpa.pa,,” Madge answered, fastening her sealskin cost. “ Iarn coming. Where haverym} leijt the_t{ap A " Why not ?" “ Becauseâ€"becauseâ€"well, call it a whim if you like, and gratify it.” " I suppose I must when you ask it with that look in your eyes. Ah, there is papa,” she added, as Sir Frederio’s knock sounded at the door. They went together to the door, where Sir Frederic was waiting for his daughter. He lifted his hat courteoualy to Shirley, but did not offer her his hand. “ Good-afternoon, Mrs. Grant. Fine, seasonuble weather, is it not ‘2 Well, Mad- cap,_s:re you re_a.dy ‘2" “ I don't think it is right for you to be here alone at night,”said Madge, decidedly. “ You might be ill. No one knows what might happen.” “ I am sure you dc not want to pain me, Madge. I prefer being here alone. Ido not want any assistance. Should I need it, dear, I will promise you to obtain it if you, in your turn, will promise me to say no more about it. And also I enureat of you not to mention it to Lady Oliphant at all.” "‘31 am afraid Jane would not have been of much assistance if I had been taken ill, for it required all my strength to wake her up in the morning.” said Mrs. Grant, with an attempt at laughter. “ Thefiyou musvti have some one more efficient. Iwill speak to mamma. about it." “There was a. moment’s silence; then Shirley said gently:â€" . (To be continued.) ii‘flllifl (It? TEEHC D:SFAJEE.~~T)ull, hem'y headache, obstruvtinn (if the nn<nl 1w Hires. filS(‘lllLl'_5f(“‘. falling~ from the hand into the threat, some mes prul‘ni‘o, \v:1tery,:iiid :u'i’id. 0th . thick. ten“ nus, mucous, purulent, Moo: ' :md putrid; the eyes are vii-uh them is ringing in i'iii', (-nrsl. (ll'diflzll‘Sfl. luu'ldnu' Oi‘ emu; um: 10 (-livm‘ the iln‘nut, expeetumtinn (\l' Offensive inniâ€" ter, together with smhs fmm ulcers; the yeiee is changed and ham a “nasal twang"; the ln'enth is ntfensiv : smell and his“: impaired: there is a sensation of dizzinesn. wilh menial depres- ion, a hacking cough and gene {11 dehilit ' Unly a few «11' the above-minim] synnmnns zn'e lilgelv to he pr gent in any nne (use. Thousands (if uses annually. without manifesting lmlt‘ of the. above symptoms. result in consumption, and end in the grave. N0 disease is so common, more deceptive and dangerous, less understood. or more. unsuccessfully treated by physicians. If you would remove an evil, strike at its . moi. As the predisposing or real cause 01‘ .‘ catni‘rh is, in the majority of C‘1‘1‘8, some weakness. impurity, or cherw ,e faulty “w I condition of the system, in attempting lo "- ’“ WW Lilll‘C the disease our chief nini must he directed to the removal 0f that muse. The more we see of this odious div“ 10. :md we Li'eut sueee<sfully thousands of eases (mâ€" 11i1;.lly: , the lnvalids‘ Hotel and huruieal lngtituie. ilie lilUH' do we rm ie the importance of combining with the use of :1 Jm-nl, soothing; and healing uppli tntion. a thm‘mlyh and pcrsistont inter- nal use of bleedâ€"cleansing and tonic medicines. 1 . . . i “q In curing cahn‘rh and all the various disease?! With . fighi ' bronchial. and lung: diseases, weak ntmnueh, (1:1- tzn'x‘hul deinnese. weak or inflamed ey< , impure ful powers and virtues of Dix Pieree’s (lnlden Med- ical Discovery ‘Linnot be too strongly extolled. It has a Specific Sig]? in which it is so frequently complicated. as throat, ‘ blood, serotulous and other mints, flu, wonder- Just then the frechlad faced little girl’s ma. came into the parlor and kissed the missionary lady on the cheek and said she was delighted to see her, and they proâ€" ceeded to have a. real sociable chat. The little girl’s me. can’t understand why a per. son who professes to be so charitable as the agent does should go right over to Miss Dimmoné’s and say such ill-natured things as she did, and she thinks the missionary is a. double-faced gossipâ€"Boston Globe. Mrs. Warren, the Colorado cattle queen, who is said to be worth $10,000,000, is the wife of Bishop Warren of the Methodist Church. i It is stated that "the humanheart has to do as much wOrk in twenty-four hours | l . as a. machine would to lift 125 tonsof iron.” This looks liken big yarn, and the man who made it must prove it, or it will go hard with him. “011,1 think he’s nice. He showed me how to slide down the bunistei‘s, and he’s teaching me to Whistle when ‘11:: ain‘t; round. Thau’s a pretty cloak you’ve got, ain’t it? Do you buy all yet": good clothes with missionary money? Ma says you do.” “ Your Uncle Richard is a. bad, depraved wrctch, and ought to have remained out West, Where his style is appreciated. He sets a. horrid example for little girls like you.” “ So folks would send her lots of nice things to wear and feel sorry to have her going about naked. Then she’d have hair to friz, and I want a doll with truly hair and eyes that roll up like Deacon Slider- back’s when he says amen on Sunday. I ain’t a wicked girl either, ’couse Uncle Dickâ€"you know Uncle Dick ; he’s been out West, and swears a“ lul and smokes in the houseâ€"he says I’m a holy terror and he hopes I‘ll be an angel pretty soon. Ma’ll be down in a minute, so you needn‘t take your cloak off. She said she'd box my ears if I asked you to. Ma’s putting on that old dress she had last year, ‘cause she said she didn’t want you to think she was able to give much this time, and she needed a new 131qu worse than the Queen of the Cannon Ball Islands needed religion. Uncle Dick says you oughter to go to the islands, ’oause you’d be safe there, and the natifs ’d be sorry they was such sinners anybody would send you to ’em. He says he never seen a heathen hungry enough to eat you ’Icss ’twas a blind one, and you’d set a blind pagan’s teeth on edge so he’d never hanker after any more missionary. Uncle Dicli’s awful funny and makes pa and ma die laughing sometimes." Showlng’ How Sometimes the Truth Will Out in Unexpected Ways. “ Ma‘s up stairs changing her dress,” said the heckled faced little girl, tying her doll'a bonnet strings and casting her eyes about for a. tidy large enough to serve as & shawl for that double jointefl young per- son. “ Oh, your mother needn’t dress up for me,” remarked the female agent of the missionary society, taking a self-satisfied View of herself in the mirror. “ Run up and tell her to come down just; as she is, in her every day clothes, and not to stand on ceremony." “ Oh, but she hasn’tgot on her every day clothes. M9. was all dressed up in her new brown silk, ’cause she expected Miss Dim- mond to-dsy. Miss Dimmond always comes over here to show off her new things, and ma. don‘t intenu to get left. When ma. saw you coming she said, ‘ The (lichens !’ and I guess she was mad about something. Ma saia if you saw her new dress she’d have to hear all about the poor heathen Who don’t have silk, and you’d ask her for money to buy hymn books to send ’em. Say, do the black ladies use hymn book leaves to do their hair up on and make it fiizzy ? Ma says she guesses that’s all the good the books do ’em, if they ever get any books. I wish my (1011 was a. heathen.” 1 ‘ ..n. “ Why, you wicked little girl I what do you want of a. heathen dcll ?" imivi’red the missionary lady, taking a. mental inventory of the new things in the parlor to get ma.- terial for a. homily on worldly ext: wa- gance. m Wufifii'i HEflkflm '7‘??? â€"< m. g). E g ; 50‘“ B 50 c EDI-T3. r‘ Dr. I’ivrcv'a Yolk-1’s nw‘mm without, dismflnncn t0 tlw system. diet. or occupation. I’m; up in. glass \‘inls. hermetically sezm-d. Alwqyg froah and relia- Mv. As a gentle laxative, alterafive, or ac . 1m rgaiive, they give the most perfect sativ'Fqctifin, ~.L. BEHI‘V'G P‘JJRELY VEGETABLE, A DOMESTIC TERROR. For a case of Batarrh in ‘ihe Head which they cannot azure / THE ORigINAL TLE LIVER PlLLS in Luuuuu m u v v . u . u u . u - u u J vw .......... «WE pROPRmro;:.. f Her Parentâ€"Do you think, Mr. Filkins, that you can support my daughter in the Y style to which she is accustomed.? g Bright Young Munâ€"I think I could if u you would let us board with you. Fashion in Hosiery. A fashion journal says that stockings ornamented with twisted serpents will be Worn with low shoes this summer. As socks are not mentioned the opposite sex Will probably wear their snakes in tho usual and time-honored fashion. Before this road was pet in operation numerous street car experts did not hesitate to state that the grades and curves were obstacles which could not be successfully i overcome, but the spectacle of a car loaded with forty people running up a 10 per cent. 1 grade at a high rate of speed,and the wheels giving a remarkably perfect adhesion to the rails, is something that convinces the most sceptical person. All adverse prophesies have failed and the actual demonstration is sufficient to satisfy the most critical street railway man of the entire feasibility of the electric system under any and all conditions of practical every day use. This road is by far the most important and ex- tensive electric railway enterprise GVer undertaken, and has involved more diffi- culties and a greater variety of obstacles to the successful application of self, propelled cars, as well as to the employ- ment of electricity, than were ever before attempted. Returns for the week end- ing May 9th showed an [average of twenty cars out per day, running 1,548 miles, or nearly eighty miles each, and carrying 7,378 passengers, at a total cost per car for road operating expenses of $1.98 and of $1.48 for station expenses. In other Words, the cost of operating, except official and salary charges, taxes and insurance, is only 3.46 per car per day on an eighty mile run, and this is stated by Mr. E. P. Harris, the well-known street car expert, to be only 40 per cent. of the cost of operating by horses with the same number of cars, with the additional advantage that, in point of fact, the road with animal power, for the same work, would require not less than twenty-five cars with a stable equipment of i from 275 to 300 horsesâ€"Electrical World. The dynamos are six in number, all connected in multiple are. feeding into a. “ bus " line. One side of the “ bus ” is connected to the ground, and to the other side are connected the feeders. Each dynamo is of 40.000 watts capacity, and is woin for a potential of 500 volts. Owing to the character of the soil and lack of pavement the rosdbed was found to be a. source of much trouble ; a. good portion of the track being laid in mud and clay streets, which in moist weather unsettlee the curves, throws the track out of gauge and permits the accumulation of more or less soil on the rails. Steer) {acades of 10 per cent. and sharp curves of twenty-seven feet radius, combined with a 7 per cent. grade, and with the outer rail of the cm ve nearly three inches lower than the inside rail, have been found to L3 difficulties of no mean import- ance to overcome. ’ Electricity Doing the Work at Forty Per Cent. the Cost of Home Power. This being the firt electric railway plant of any magnitude installed on a comprehen- sive scale and complete in all respects, the operating expenses are a subject of much interest. A long experience and accurately gathered statistics have fully demonstrated that the depreciation on dynamos is farless than on any Otlfiel' class of machinery; also that high-speed engines have been charged with a higher rate of depreciation than is their due. To this, then, we may add that the perfection of the steam plant installa- tion adds largely to its economy. The small consumption of fuel and the low cost of other items of operating expenses are a source of much gratification to the direc- tors of the company. A conservative esti- mate based on actual statistics, gathered from central stations for some years, places the cost of a horse-power per year applied to the car at not more than 5535, estimating 720 hours per month. TEE RICH M 0ND RAILWAY. H1“!1thHllh‘lullll‘lllllflflllltlt PURELY VEGETABLEY PERFECTLY HARMLESS! A5 a LEVER PILL, they are Unequalcd! SB/IALLEST, CIâ€"IEA‘PEST, EASIEST To TAKE. Rowan“ of Tmitntionsnvhioh contain Poisonous Minerals. Always ask for Dr. I’iorco‘s Pellets. which are little Sugar-Coated Pills, or Auti-bilious Granules. ONE PELLET A DOSE. Billions Heat‘lacho, Bizzinom, Constipzxiiang lmligmzmn, Hilious Atlackfig and :ill (1(‘l‘mlfflfâ€" mvnts of the stomach and bowels, 111'.“ prmm‘lly 1‘0- ]iq‘ved :md iwrmum‘ntly cured by the 01' Dr, P1021305: Peflets. ln explanation of tlmir r0 ntsdinl power over 30 great n variety of disvwws, it may truthfully be said that their action upon the system gland or tissue escaping their snumtivc influcm . SICK HEADACHE? {(‘OI‘Y‘IEICHT, 1887.] He Thought He Could. \ .u \/u up”; mu, uh...” .A...V.u.u “n A. u“... _ 1r-pnsmgcs, promoting the natural SK‘CI‘C ion of their i‘olliclos and glands. thereby soi'tK-ning: the disr‘usod and Ihiclcnnod membrane, and restoring it in its natural, thin, dvlimir, moist. healthy conâ€" dition, AS a Moodâ€"purifier, it is llllSlil'y'meii'lli. AS those diseases \i'hivh complicate (inlnrrh :n‘o dismin 01' the lining nu UR mom- ‘m'nnvs, or (if the blood, it will readily be SUCH why this medicine 'l m well calculated to cure them. ‘ Asa local flpplimtion for homing the dismsnd condi- tion in the hmnl, Dr. Nun’s Gutarrh Romvdy is beyond all Comparison the lwst )n'opamtion (2V invented. I 11', in mild and pimwnnt; 10 use, yn'ndiicing'vzm nmai‘ling 1 uh I or pain. and containing: :10 strung; n‘i‘imtmg‘. 0r caus~ “imam tic drug. or other imimn. This ltmnody is a powerâ€" i‘nl anfisoplic. and RDM‘dilV dt‘slmys all had smoll which accnmn 17:!”le so many czisvs of (-umrrh. thus allowing great comfort. to those who smror from this disease. ctm‘éd 1T9}! WGRLD’S BESPENSARY MEDICAL ASSUCIATION, Mun Offflct upon the linmg; mucous mr‘mbmnng nl‘ the llqml‘smd other‘ 7 , 1- A rung”. hurl “Human” The Golden Medical Discm' ‘y is the natural “liclpmnte” of Dr. Sngv‘s Cuturrli Remedy. It ‘ not only cleanses, pui-ilivsz. regulates, and builds up the system to :1 healthy standard, and con- ! n quora throat, bronchial, and lung complications, mm' when any such exist, but, from its specific (\fi‘vcls upon 1.110 lining invmbrnnn of tlw nasal passages. it aids inutvrinlly in restoring: the disvusod. tliivlmnvd. or ulcerated momâ€" llmno lo a hmlllly condition, and “"18 k‘l'zldk'llh‘fl the disease. When a cum is efl‘ccted in this manner it is permanent. Ruth Dr. Piorco’s Golden Medical Discovery and Dr. Sage’s (‘ntau‘r Remedy are snld by druggists the world ()V(‘1‘. Discovery $1.00, 51x bottles for $5.00. Dr. Sage’s Cutm‘rh Remedy 50 cents; haltâ€"dozen bottles 82. ELI)“, m; UULLAL'D JUI cmuu. .uL. muses uumuu JLLLIALMJ uu Lung, haltâ€"dozen bottles $2.5 . A complvtc Treatise on Catm-rh, giving valuable hints as to clothing. diet. and other mattvrs of imImrtanco, will be mailed, post-1mm to any addrcss, on receipt of :1 23-(runt postsz stump. Address. “'orld’s Dispensary mtedical Association, N 0. 663 Main Street, BUFFALO. N. ‘1’. Di“: (DSAe-fis CHARM THE CGOK’S BEST F RIEN It often happens that a dissatisfied hus- band sends his wife home to her mother“ Mrs. Donnell Swan, “one of the wealthiest and most beautiful women in Baltimore society,” the record says, has been married eight .years and is now in Europe. She reverses the usual order of things by send- ing her husband home to his father with a letter saying she has had enough of him. A divorce suit is pending. Perplexing as the servant must have found this order, his astonishment can hardly have been equal to that of a car- penter to whom was addressed a still more amusing blunder by this lady. She had an interview with him in reference to some alterations she thought of undertaking in her dwelling. but found the estimates he made so large that she determined not to have the work undertaken. In a short time, however, she found herself so incomu moded by the state of the house that she» decided that it would be necessary to have the alterations made, even at the figure named by the carpenter. She accordingly sent for him, and once more carefully ex- plained what she wished to have done. To her surprise the man promptly named a price for the work which was considerably in advance of his previous estimate, and his feelings may be imagined when in her con- sternation her peculiar English betrayed her into saying : “ Why, sir, you are dearer to me than when we were first en”. gaged.” If the carpenter appreciated a joke he should have scaled down his figures. â€"Boston Letter in Providence Journal. A Well-Founded Report. Miss E thel (confidentially)â€"â€"Do you know, Clam, that I had two offers of marriage last week ? Miss Clara. (with enthusiasmyâ€"Oh‘ I am delightea, dear! Then the report is really true that your uncle left you his money. A couple of instances of the Iamusing blunders foreigners may make in speaking English were given me the other day, and I have every reason both to believe them genuine and that they have not before been printed. A lady who had learned English in a school in Europe, where she was ac- counted remarkably proficient in our lanâ€" guage, came to this country to take charge of an establishment. Brought face to face with the practical requirements of every- day life, her English proved less compre~ hensive and accurate than might have been wished, and the evidences that her vocabu- lary had been painfully collected from a dictionary rather than from living speech gave a. good deal of amusement to those around her. On one occasion she Wished to directs. servant to kill a chicken, and after plucking it to bring her the feathers. The form which her direction took was: “Die me that beast and bring me his; vestment." A. coincidence occurs in the ages of the Presidential and Vice-Presidential nomi~ nees, in that both Thurman and Morton are older than Cleveland and Harrison. 02 the four Cleveland is the youngest. The President was born in New Jersey in March, 1837, and he is consequently 51 years old. Harrison comes next. He is 55. Morton was full of 9. 3-year-old boy’s tricks when Harrison was born, and is now (34 years of age. “ The Old Roman,” Allan G. Thur. man, leads them all. He wasborn in 1812'}, and Time has cut 74 notches on his stick of life. Illustrating the Danger of“ Using English Acquired from Books. TWO FUNNY BLUNDERS‘» DONL. 2888. universal. not a Their Ages.