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MY my-.. ” Yes, Mrs. Gossett. I have been restless and unsettled here for some months, so I am going to open a branch of our business out there. Some one must go ; and I am glad to be the one." - n. . (CONTINUED) A ROMANCE 0F ILFRACOMBE. “ For some years, Mr. Mayfield? Do you mean it ‘2” ‘7‘ Yes, Mm}. .Gossgtt. I have been restless A , L‘,_ _-T____ vv vuv vuv. “ Is Mrs. Mayfield here? Of course she goes with you ‘1" “Mrs. Mayfield ! Do you think I am married, Maud '3” She did not notice the Christian name. “ Are you not ‘1” “Married! I married 1 Who can have tolii you‘ratlch a. monstrous thing ‘1” 1 ll] "-1. __-_.___ 1504-3751711, minute Maud did'not answer. She was looking down into her plate, and the colour had all died 9n}; of herface.‘ I “I Heard it fizzâ€"llgioned,” she said. “ Cer- tainly some one said so. I suppose it was a mistake. There was nothing monstrous in U- “It would be monstrous to me,” Gerald aid. “ Believe me, Mrs. Gossett, Whoever may henceforth tell you that Gerald May. field is married, you can tell them it is not so. I shall never marryâ€"never.” 'For a time i1}; furtHer word was spoken. The‘colour did not return to her cheek. Pre- sently she sgidt - . , . man“; w...â€" .w.. “ I am going to ask you a strange question. one I should not ask were it not that you are going away, and that, perhapswperhaps we shall not meet again. It is as well to clear up misunderstandings. Why did you leave Ilfrgcpmbq so suddenly without even saying good~bye ‘2” “ May I tell you the truth?” Mrs. Gossett bowed her head. “ Because I heardâ€"of course there’s no secret nowâ€"because I heard from Gossett that you were engaged to himâ€"that you had been engaged to him for months ; and I loved you so I could not trust myself to see you agam.” «- n! n ,,,,,1-,,, Again she sat; silent. and without a vestige of colour in her face. There was a slight noise at the head of the table, and a sudden flush leaped into her cheek. “ We are going,” she said. “ Don’t come up stairsâ€"don’t see me again before you go. Have I your promise ‘3" “ You have,” he said. “ Then God bless you, Gerald, and make you happy. Say anything you like to me â€"it is for the last time. It cannot be very Wrong."_ _ . en . 1“! " Asvshéiéfiofié she rose, gave him her hand, looked full in his face with a wan look of soggy am} love, and_was_gon‘e. ‘Vhen she returned to her home, she went straight into the library, at which her hus- band was still busied with books ‘1 papers. He looked up. H i‘r‘chbd bless you, my darling, my own lost lov»e I _ May _you_be happy 1” ‘ - . ‘ 1 “ Bless us: Maud, what is the matter? You look_li_ke a ghost; “ I have seen Gerald Mayfield,” she said, "and I know that you lied to us both. You told him we were engaged; you told me he was married. What have you to say‘?’ Mellow hazes lowly trailing Over the wood and meadow, veiling Sombre skies, withAswafllovgs sa‘liling, Dunn)“: muss, vnuu D" any"- ~_..-._n, Sailorslike, to foreign lands; And the north wind overleapiug Summer’s brink, and flood-like sweeping Wrecks of roses where the weeping 1‘ Say '2” Gassett said, with alight laugh. “Nothing. Everything is fair in love and war. If we were not engaged, I knew we should be soon ; so I was only anticipating the thing 31!. little.” V'vauu m.-- . ,, wnfévés swifié their helpleés Hinds. Flaunted high, like torches flinging Flakes of flame and embers, springing From the vale the trees stan_d swinging “ Paul Gossett, ” his wife said, “ when you asked me to marry you, I told you that I did not love you as a woman should love a. man she was going to marry, but that I would give you what love I could, and would do my best to make you a good wife. You were content with the terms, and said that you hoped and believed the love would come. I hoped so too. We have not been married long, but long enough for me to see that your love is no truer than mine. I should have no right to complain that you gave no more than I, and could have gone on with liking and respect. That is over forever. I find you Won me by a lieâ€"that you have neither honour nor generosity. I will not bring scandal upon our names, but at present I cannot live with you. To-morrow I shall go home to my mother; she is ill, and it will appear natural for me to wish to be with her. After a time I may get over the horror I feel, and then I will come back and try to do my duty.” _ In the moaning atmosphere ; While in dead’ning lands the lowing 0f the cattle, sadder growing, Fills the sense to overflowing Fields of ragged stubble, tangled With rank weeds, and shocks of jangled Corn, with crysts lilge yvef‘plut‘ngs dangled O’er the harvest’s battle plain ; And the sudden whirr and whistle 0f the quail that, like a missile, VVhizzes over thorn a_nd thistle, “ And haw about Mr. Gerald Mayfield ‘2” Paul Gossett asked, with an evil smile. _ Maud stepped black 9. ace, as if she had been struck, and put her and to her heart. Mufiied voices hid in thickets \Vhere the redbird stops to stick its Rudqx heal; between the pickets Of the truant’s rustic trap ; And a sound of laughter ringing Where, within the wild vine swinging, Climb Bacchante’s schoolmates flinging Purfié aaéters in her lap. Rich as Wine the sunset flashes Round the tilted world, and dashes Up the sloping west and splashes - ,L LL- J... ~.-r._ r, , “1' “" D . Its red foam against the sky, Till my dream of autumn, paling In the splendor all-prevailing, Like a sallow leaf goes sailing Down the silence solemnly. J AMES W. RILEY. 9:) 'With tile sorrow of theâ€"year. And, a missile, drops again. A Dream of Autumn. THE RIVALS. “ God he] me 1” she said, “ and I am mar- ried to t is man l” And without another word she went out and left him. Gerald Mayfield was sitting in his office at Melbourne, two years after his arrival in Australia, when he heard the shouting of the newsboys outside, “ Great fraud in England ! Second edition of the Argus I" In another minute a clerk came in. “ Here is the Argus, Sir. Anofher great banking swindle at. home.” \Vhefi Gerald was alone, he opened the papa: and rggd, in largeletters : “ GREAT FRAUD ANY) EMBEZZLEMENT. The Metropolitan and Suburban Bank has been robbed of u ward of £100,000 by its man- ager, Paul vossett. The frauds have been going on for years. Money lost in stock exchange gambling. Gossett still at large. Police on his track. All outward bound vessels watched.” For a long time Gerald Mayfied sat With- out moving. “Poor girl 3” he said at last, as he put down the paper. “I never thought the fellow looked honest. I put it down to prejudice, but 1 was right, after all. I wonder what she will do? I saw that her mother died just afterI came out. I suppose her fortune’s safe.” Two days later came another telegram : “ Gossett still at large. His wife has hand- ed over her own fortune of $25,000 to bank.” Then Gerald Mayfield sent a telegram to his partner : “ Find out address of Gossett the default- er’s wife. Place £50 to her credit at a bank; advise her anonymously that an equal sum will be paid in quarterly. Be sure it is done so as to be untraceable. You re- member our conversation when I first pro- posed coming out here.” It was nearly three months after this that Gerald Maytield was breakfasting at his club, chatting with the head of the Police. Presently a. boy came in with a note for the latter. “Ah,” he said, glancing over it, “ the Tauuton Castle is [6' the Head ; I have been expecting her for some days. By what we hear, it is possible that Gossett, that fellow who swindled the bank in London, in on board, and we shall put our hand on him as he lands. I can’t go myself, for I have a. very important case in court ; but we shall have him." “ Why do you think he is on board ‘3" “ Of course, we can’t be sure, and in fact they are doubtful at home. All they say is, that there is a passenger on board who seems to have given no address, and to have had no belongings in England, and the descrip- tion of his height and appearance tallies pretty accurately with that of Gossett. Still, that is not much to go upon, and we shall have to be very careful.” “ What time do you think the Taunton Castle will be in ? I am going down to meet her, as I have an old friend on board, and I shall look out to see if your men succeed in their capture.” “ She ought to be in by eleven.” Gerald sat some little time over his break- fast after the chief of the constabulary had left. “I must save h‘m if possible, for her sake," he said to himself at last. “ He is a. swindler and, I fear, a had 101; altogether; but she loves him. and that is enough for me. Even if she did not love him I would spare her the disgraceof his trial and punish- ment.” At eleven o'clock Gerald stood on the wharf watching the Taunton Castle coming alongside. Near him stood a couple of con~ stables. He knew them, as both had been engaged in hunting up more than one frau- dulent_ debtpr to Phe firm. “ I hear from Captain Peters that you are any}? look-out for a. passqueffi’» “ Yes, sir. \Ve hop} 30, Hit there doesn’t seem much certainty about it.” As the ship came alongside Gerald was one of the first to leap on board. He looked hastily round, and among the passengers he at once saw the man he was searching for. Paul Gossett was looking ill, and had grown a. heard, but there was no other change about him. ” \Vhat is that gentleman’s name ?” he asked a lad who was standing near. “ Hopkins,” the boy said. The Gerald went up to him with out- stretched hand. Gossett gave a start; but a gesture commanding caution on the part of Gerald caused him t9 repress it. “ How are you. Hopfiins? What a time it isisiince we metâ€"ages almost! How are “ \VellJWhat sort of a. véiagevhave ycu had? and how did you leave every one at home ‘3” ’ He spoke in loud tones, in order that the constables, “5hr; weye c_lose by, might hear. Paul Gossett had prepared himself for arrest at the moment of landing. He knew that if any suspicion had been excited that Paul Gossett and James Hopkins were one and the same person, that the constables would be on the quay to arrest him as he landed. He was therefore prepared to meet whatever came ; andafter the first slight start he recognized by the action and tone of voice, that Gerald Was trying to save him, and fell into the lead. A man who has for months and years been running a great risk must necessarily have his nerves well under control, and the constables, who stood a short distance off listening to the conversa- tion, did not for a. moment suspect that it was forced. For a. few minutes they talked so, and then Gerald said : “ You know I am only in bachelor’s lodg- ings, but I have taken a. room for you at the Royal. I shall see you later in the day. I must go off to my office now. \Vel], officers,” he said to the constables, as he turned from Gossetft, “ have you got your man? Which “What, my friend Hopkins? That is a joke.” I “ Can’t be no mistake, I suppose, sir ‘2" “Mistake, man. Why, I have known him for years. We have been down at the sea-sige together. In fact, I saved his life once. “\Ve haven’t got him, and we ain‘t a- going to. The chap that we were put on was the very gent as you’ve been talking with.” is he? “Likely enough,” Gerald said carelessly. “At any rate, it is as well for Mr. Hopkins that I happened to meet him here. Imagine “ That’s good enough, air. It’s quite clear the people at home have gone after a wrong scent altogether ; very likely put on it so as to render it more easy for him to slip off in some other direction.” 9n 9” his astonishment at being seized and locked up. If he had not had any one to identify him, and you had detained him for a couple of months, till some one came out from Eng- land to swear to him, he would have grounds for an action, and would have got swingeing daLnages against all your people.” Twice in the course of théevening Gerald called at the Royal, but each time he was told that hopkins was out. He was relieved to find that the man had guessed that, al- though he was bound to call in order to keep up the story of their acquaintanceslup, yet that he would far rather that they did not meet. Next morning when he called at the hotel he was told Mr. Hopkins had gone up country, but that he had left a note for him. Its contents were brief : " You are a. grand fellow, Gerald Mayfield. You have saved me twice, and have return- ed good for evil. If I could undo the past, heaven know! that I would. I am going up the country to get work of some sort ; I only got off with enough to pay my passage out.” Ten months later Gerald received from the doctor of a hospital at Ballarat the certificate of the death of Paul Gossett, mortally in- jured by a. {all of the roof in one of the mines there. He had lived a few days, had said who he was, and had written to his wife. He had ordered that the certificate of his death and his letter to his wife might be for- warded to Mr. Mayfleld, who would, he was surf, see that they were sent to his WidOAW: _ For another ten months Gerald Mayfleld worked on at Melbourne, and then, having been relieved by his junior partner, he sailed for England. Maud was, he knew, living at Brighton, where she was supporting herself ny giving music lessons, having firmly de- c ined to touch the money anonymously paid to her account. Then he Went down and peremptorily took possession of her. Maud had determined upon resistance, for she had schooled herself to believe that it would be wrong for her to marry again. She acknowledged freely to herself that she loved Gerald Mayfield. She had heard from her husband how Gerald had saved him from arrest ; she felt sure that it was Gerald who would have provided for her ‘; she never doubted that he would come back and claim her; but she had assured her- self, over and over again, that she would never allow the stigma of her name to attach to him, hard though it might be to refuse him. But when he came in, and straight- way took her in his arms and held her there; when he stopped her lips as she tried to speak about disgrace, and wiped away her tears as they fell, there was nothing for her to do but to yield, and even to allow him, in his masterful way, to settle that, as the mar- riage would be perfectly quiet, there was no reason in the world why it. should be delayed beyond a month at the outside. “ You foolish Gerald,” she said to him, later on in the evening, “you are always in extremes : you lost me five years ago because you were so timid you would not stand up for yourself; and now you have become a. perfect tyrant, and won’t allow me to have ever‘so little ‘a_ bit of my own way." " You shall have all your flown way, darling; when you are once my Wife,” he said; “ but till then I mean to be master ; so your best plan is to hurry on your pre- parations as fast as you can in order to free yourself from my tyranny. And there is one thing, Maud, if you don’t object : I should like to spend part, at least, of our honey- moon at Ilfracombe. Another year you shall travel all over the Continent, if you like; but, if it is not painful to you, I should like Iliracombe now. Of course we will not go to the hotel, but get in some quiet lodging, and ramble on the rocks as we used to do.” “ Yes, I shouldlike it,” Maud said ; “ and we will agree to believe that we were only there a few weeks ago, and that this five years has been a. bad dream, never to be talked about or thought of willingly again.” Not so very many years ago, French nove- lists and feuilletonists, among other many “fixed ideas ” they were pleased to enter- tain with respect to English manners and customs, fondly clung to one in particular, their faith in which was not to be shaken by any denial or protest reaching them from our side of the Channel. This article of their belief was to the effect that the British hus- band, if dissatisfied with the partner of his joys and srrrows, might legally encircle her neck with a rope, conduct her to Smithfield Market, and there sell her by public auction to the highest bidder. Frenchmen, we trust, no longer labour under the impression that transactions of this description are every day occurrences in our metropolis. For authentic records of contemporary Wife-sales they should turn their attention to the so- called 5' frontier lands ” of the Austre-Hun- garian Empire; in particular, to the Servian Banat, where the commercial instincts of a. farmer, named Nicholas Sekulich, recently prompted him, on discovering his consort’s infideliiy to him, to make her over to her lover, one Paul Begovich, for a considera- tion. The price set upon the fair but frail Juliska Sekulich by her lawful spouse con- sisted of 40 florins in cash and a fatted hog. A contract to this effect was drawn up and duly signed. Begovich paid the money, handed over the hog, and took possacssion of the purchased lady, to whom he was sub- sequently united in the bonds of holy matri- mony by a priest Whom he bribed to cele- brate the marriage rites. These proceedings were not altogether devoid of a certain rough humorousness ; but the District Tribunal of Peterinje, which does not seem to have a keen relish for jokes of this sort. has sent all the parties concerned in it to prison?for four months, with hard labour. THE Earl” of Rosalyn is president, and the Duke of VVestmiuister and the Earl of Shaftesbury are vice-presidents, of a society to direct attention to the use of thc goat as a source of milk supply. AN express train when near Canboro’ the other day struck a dog and threw him with such force against a mile post that it was broken OH. The post was sound, and eight or nine inches thick. THAT there is nothing new under the sun is freshly exemplified by an old painting of Albert Durer’s, in which, among the arti- cles surrounding a female figure, are the nu- merals l to 16 so arranged that the lines, in whatever direction added, make the num- ber 34, and so anticipate the 15 puzzle. (From the London Telegraph.) Selling His Wife. A GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF A HURRICANE NEAR MOSQUITO INLET. Florida summers are passably cool. The thermometer rests between 80 and 90 de- grees, with occasional spurts to 100 degrees. At night the heat is frequently intense. Without a. close sand-fly bar there is no rest, and with one no air. Grateful dews cool the air before daylight, but a coppery sun soon reappears, and up to 9 3.111. the at- mosphere is like that of a furnace. Then a refreshing trade wind sets in from the southeast, end blows stesdily until sundown. This trade wind lasts three months, say from the middle of June to about the same time in September. ‘Vithout it, life on the east- ern coast would be insupporta‘ble. There are days in which the air becomes mucky and sticky. A dead land breeze covers the earth. Sands and marshes throw out a. tremulous heat, blinding to the eye; the leaves of the oleanders and fig trees shrink under the burning rays of the sun ; the sky seems roofed by a brazen dome, and gardens and groves fairly pant for breath. On the approach of autumn the Floridian quakes with apprehension. It is the dread season of hurricanes. Tearing through the West Indies, they often strike the coast with deadly effect. With scarcely a note of warning, houses are overthrown, sailboats blown from the water, the orange groves swept bare of leaves and fruit. Some of the old settlers say that they can detect signs of the storm 9. day before it breaks upon them. “You feel it in the air long before it comes,” says one. This is, however, an in- definite sign. The devastation lining the track certainly proves “that you feel it in the air after it comes.” One of these ty- phoons visits the coast every year. The day may be bright and beautiful, and the flowers heavy with bees and humming birds. Shimmering mosquito hawks quiver in the air, and the scarlet cardinals twitter in the acacias. A cooling breeze plays through the leaves of the trees and gently swings the unripe oranges. Clouds of gulls soar above the dark green mangrove bushes, and the sand bars, at low tide, are covered with pensive curlews and widest. The drowsy roar of the surf is heard, and the gentle swell of the ocean is rippled with golden sheen. Almost imperceptibly the wind dies away. Cries of terns and water birds fell upon the ear with painful distinctuess. The mud hens of the marshes pipe an alarm. Not a. blade of salt grass moves. The blue sky grows hazy and the eastern horizon is milky white. Fitful gusts begin to ripple the wa- ter and handle the green leaves. A low moan comes from the ocean. Smoky clouds roll into the sky from the southeast, and a strong wind whitens the ruflled water. Every minute it increases in fury. Au omi- nous yellow light tinges the atmosphere. The sun is gone, and great drops of rain are hurled to the ground. In 15 minutes there is a. gale, and soon the full force of the hur- ricane is felt. v Great eagles and. pelicans are swept through the heavens utterly powerless. Sparrows and other small birds are lashed to death by leafless twigs, and the torn bodies of snowy herons and wild turkeys lodge in the branches of the Wild oak and cypress trees. ' All living things disappear. Tall ines are twisted asunder. The lithe lim s of willows and oleanders snap like cow whips. Lofty palmettoes bend their heads to the ground, their great fans turned inside out like the ribs of an umbrella. The force of the wind keeps the trees down until every green fan pops like a pistol-shot. Orange groves are ripped into shoe strings. The leaves of the scraggy scrub on the beach are wiped out, and their stems whipped into lit- tle brushes. The tough saw palmetto is blown as flat as a northern Wheat field, and the dead grass of the savannas lashed into fine dust. Boards in the surf are struck by the wind and sent spinning hundreds of feet into the air. The sand dunes are caught up bodily and sifted through the tops of pine trees miles away. The foam of the sea is blown beneath the houses on the main land and. comes up between the cracks of the floor like steam. Woe to the owners of sail boats and boat houses. At Lake Worth, the Cruiser, a heavy round-bottomed sail boat, 32 feet long, owned by Capt. Chas. Moore, was picked up from her ways, rigging and all, and carried across the lake, 1:. mile away, without touching the water. A boat own- ed by Dr. Wallace of Castle Windy, was torn from her moorings, lifted from the Wa- ter, and dropped into a salt-water marsh fringing Mosquito Lagoon, 800 yards from the castle. 1n the fall of 1876, the Ida Smith, a large schooner running between New Smyrna and Jacksonville, was torn from her anchors and stranded on a marsh 500 yards from the ship channel. The coast survey steamer, in a. good harbor, sheltered by sand banks, threw out three anchors, and kept her Wheels working against the wind under a full head of steam. She dragged her anchors several hundred yards, and barely escaped destruction. These hurricanes last from seven to eight hours, even longer. During the lull rain falls in torrents. The tide rises to a. great height, carrying away wharves and boat- honses, and flooding the country for miles. The ocean leaps the sandy barriers of the coast and floods the Indian and other salt water rivers, involving great damage. After the storm, centre-boards and jib-stays are found in spruce pines, oleanders are loaded with cordage, and dead-eyes and peak-blocks drop from leafless orange trees. Gardens are destroyed, fences swept away, and the tormented Floridian has three months’ work and no pay to repair damages. THE Esquimaux of Little Whale River, of Hudson Bay. have a new church. It is an iron building, twenty feet by forty, and Was sent from London in sections ready to be put up. It was nearly two years on the way, but on arrival was put together in a. couple of weeks. Eight Esquimaux memr bers_have been added to this church by baptism, and thirty more are under instruc- tion with a View to admission. Baptism by immersion is not greatly in vogue among the Esqnimaux. Vessels are driven ashore and sometimes many lives lost. The Ladona, a. New York steamship, went ashore twelve miles north of Canaveral in the great gale of August 23, 1871. All on board perished. Since then many vessels have been wrecked. A Florida Typhoon. YOU can’t make your child love you by scolding and fretting all the time any more than you can catch a. bird by flinging your hat at it. “ \VHO was it that said it is not good for a man to be alone '1" asked a. Sunday school teacher of his class. A bright boy answered, “Daniel, sir, when he wasin the lion’s den.” THE hardest thing for any man to do is to practically encourage one who wishes to reform. Once down, let him stay there is the general motto. When a. man falls, says the proverb, everybody tries to run over him. EVERY man who expects to get a fortune without earning it gmmbles at the bad luck which persistently follows some people, while the man who works hard and saves a. little every year makes his own good luck and enjoys it. THAT London Cockney was pretty sure to hit the truth somewhere when he said, “ I say now, nothing is better than roast veal,” and then added, in order to do full justice to the subject, “ I say now, roast veal is better than nothing.” A LONG purse is a good bait with which to catch a wife. “ I have the honour to ask for your hand, Miss,” said a lover to a maiden. “ I couldn’} think of it,” was the reply. “ Have I, then, no intérest for you '3’g fié asked. “ Interestis nothing,” she answered bluntly, "It is capital I want.” A GENEROUS impulse does a. man good, but it is sometimes so checked by adverse circumstances that, like a frost-nipped bud, it refuses to blossom. A gentleman, who had grown tired of a suit: of clothes, said to his valet ; “John, I have a. great mind to give you this suit; suppose you try it on, and see if it will fit." John replied in language not propitious to the further ex. hibition of generous impulses, “I am sure it will fit me, sir ; for I tried it on the other night and wore it to the circus.” AN honest opinion is oftenesh given when the speaker is a. bit angry. In your placid mood it may be a little difficult to say a disagreeable thing, but when you are sud- denly roused by a piece of impertinence the disagreeable thing jerks itself out and is said before you know it. That was avery oint- ed and possibly a very wholesome hit of sarcasm when a. gentlemen turned suddenl on a. coxcomb who had been making himse f offensive, and said, “Sir, you ought to be the happiest man in the world ; you are in love with yourself, and you have no rival. THERE is no one in the world who has such a genius for telling the truth at the wrong time as a precocious child. Such a. child seems to be all eyes, for nothing es- capes its notice ; and all tongue, for there is nothing which it is not ready and willing tell. “Now, Nina,” said a fond. mother if her darling daughter, who knew altogethé'. too much for her years, and who could draw an inference as well as a philosopher ; “ Now, Nina, be good and give the governess a kiss before you go to bed.” The infant terrible poutcd a. little and then said, “ What ! give her a kiss and let her box my ears for it, just as she did papa's last night? No, 1 thank you, mamma.” PEOPLE forget that there are inst as many sins of omisslon as of commission. Some will be judged by what they do, and others by What they have left undone. It may also be said that the events which do not happen are iust as truly misfortunes as those which do happen. “ Hans,” said one German to another in the streets of Frank. fort, “ what are you crying about 'I” " I’m crying because the great Rothschild is dead,” was the reply. “And why should you cry about that ?” wrs the further query. “He was no relation of yours, was he ‘2” “No,” was the answer, half smothered in gobs, “no relation at all, and that’s just what I’m crying for.” The Basutos showed themselves brave, active, and intelligent. At the same time they were equally distinguished by their cold-blooded cruelty, and it was their prac- tice to make no prisoners while following up the enemy in retreat. A Basuto shot a. fly- ing Zulu through the legs and stopped the man. Sitting down by his captive, he lunched calmly, beguiling the time with cheerful talk, in which he persuaded the crippled Zulu to join. Then, having finish- ed his meal, he closed the conversation with a friendly nod, and, casually remarking that he had serious business on hand, took up his carbine and finished the Zulu. It is not creditable to a. civilized country to have to seek or accept the aid of such al- lies. On Howard street, the other day-â€" “ Where are you going, my pretty maid?” asked a. benevolent 01d gentleman as he chucked under the chin a little tot of a. six- year-old, who was walking gravely along with a basket on her arm. “ Give thee good day, greybeard,” replied the midget, simply. “ My father bade me to the sham- bles hie, for a fat haunch.” “ \V-W-what ‘3” ejaculated the old party. “ Haply thou knewst him, the good man Skidmore ‘2” in- quired the tiny dame. “ No-o-o,” said the gentleman, much puzzled at the evident ear- nestness of the child. “ You are a quaint little thing. Come with me, and I’ll buy you some candy.” “Alack ! I am forbid to tarry, gentle sir. I need be blythe. Their patiencestaysupon mycoming.” “Good-by,” said the old gentleman. “ Rest you, merry, master,” and dipping a chubby little courte- sy the mite trotted ofl'. “ Bless my soul X What an extraordinary child 1” said the gen- tleman to a neighbour who had been looking on. “ 0h 1 that’s nothing,” replied the other. “ You see she’s the daughter of Bilson, the heavy man at the theatre, and I suppOSe they talk so much of that kind of lingo in the family that it comes natural to her. Doesn’t hear anything else, you see.”â€"â€"- San Francisco Post. A youth, just launching out in trade, Unto a wealthy merchant said : “ Pray, tell me, sir, what you profieas, To call the secret of success ‘2 ’ The naboh’s eyes with pleasure shone As he replied, in earnest tone, “ The secret simple isâ€"I think You’ll find it, sir, in printer’s ink.” CHAT BY THE WAY. [From the Saturday Review.] Some British Allies. An Old. Infant.