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Arc than the fleshly bonds so strong and stern? Must all this waiting, watching, longing, weeping, i = . agglonute‘pmying: f {lchloved to learn, .. n'ntxn. . »s,. My darling, oh, my darling, whose brown eyes. Looked buck such full communion into mine, At, whose dear name such happy memories rise, . Round whole dour image such sweet fancies twine, . ‘ runnrnmc A“ nv|11 V‘ . uvvuuq' _ hmenn. liuldt’, Compmnon. Comforter, and Brother, Strong start Lo me, to me, who have no other; Cannot your spirit flash to mine, beloved? Along 1the chords that stretch from soul to BO“ Must Nature ever as a rock unmoved Fling back each voice that swells the might y whole Of Love’s implorlng cry? Since earth begun. Has not the cche risen up from 1mm 2 wm . . . s, pu wcrless as a (:hlld‘s light-llvod m 5 re, To sink no deeper, and to rise no lugherz One little whisper : “ Dear. ‘tis W011 with me." One little lifting of the dim gruy veil" Vtht nectar to the fainting it might bu, \Vhén'fitrcna‘th to tired fact. that faltering, a1 . But this I know, the law will not be broken. (Pr, brother, heart to heart are this had spoken. ----- â€"-â€"‘N<O>N'-â€"v r 7- â€" Author of “JIolly Baum,” “ The Baby,’ “ Airy Fairy Lilian,” Na, (41‘. There is no use in denying it. All this docs please me. Nay, more; it intvoxicntes me. I am heartwhole, and can therefore freely yield myself up to the enjoyment of the Visions he has conjured up before me. lfeel I am giving in swiftly and surely. ,,,:n “A; «M‘LA l mm ; u... 0.. D ,, v Y My refusing to marry him will not make him a bit more anxious to marry Dora ; and instinct tell me. now she is utterly unsuited to him. Still I am reluctant. n-n 1 “\Vould you let me have Billy and mamma. and Dom with me very Often ‘3” 1 ask, faintly. lIis arm around me tightens suddenly. “As often as ever you wish,” he says, with strange calmness. “I tell you you shall be my queen at SLl'angelnore, and your wishes shall be law.” . u . 7777 “D1 \‘Vlaluo nllwA- uv n... . “ And"â€"â€"here I blush crimson, and my voice sinks to a whisperflflhere is some~ thng else I want very, very much. Will you do it for me - “I will. Tell me what it is." His tone is so quiet, so kind, I am encour~ aged; yet I know by the tremblin of the hand that holds mine that the quiet is en- creed. “ Will you send Billy to Eton for me ?" I say, my voice shaking terribly. "I know it is a very great thing to ask, but he so longs to go.” " I will do better than that," he answers, softly, drawing me closer to him as he sees how soon I shall be his by my own consent. “ I will settle on you any money you wish, and you shall send Billy to Eton, and afterwards to Oxford or Cambridge.” (,3: 12,, A cu Ukll u an uu .N ' ‘his assurance, given at any other time, would have driven me half mad with de- li vht. Now, though my heart feels a strong throb of pleasure, it is largely mingled with what 1 km)“ is pain. Am 1 selling myself ‘2 n Jud“ vv\(| uvln'ennvc in .lu‘ynxur . Some finer instinct within me whispers to pause before giving myself irrevocably to a man whom I certainly do not lore us a. wo- man should love the one with Whom she elects to buffet all the storms and trials of life. A horrible thought comes to me and grows on my lips. I feel 1 must give it ut- tcrance. “Suppose,” I say, suddenly, “ suppose“ after\vardsâ€"â€"wlieli l have married you, I see some one to love with all my heart and mind; what then ‘3" - - . 1 uam mu... . He shivers. He draws me passionately, almost fiercely, to him, as though defying my miserable words to come true. “ \Vhat put such a detestable idea. into your head?” he asks, hoarsely, with pale lips. “Are you trying to frighten me ‘3 Shall I tell you how that would end”! You would be my murderess as surely as though you drove a knife intomy heart. \Vhet an evil thought! But I defy it‘” he says, lore- iug a smile. “Once you are mine, once you belong to me altogether, I “'1” hold you against yourselfâ€"against the world. Oh, Phyllis, my child my [ore ’ He pauses, and, putting his hand under my chin. turns up my face until my head leans against his arm and my eyes look straight into his. His face is dungerously ,lose to mine ; it comes closer, closer, until suddenly, without a word of warning. his lips mot mine in along, eager. passionate kiss. It is the first time a lover’s kiss has been laid upon my lips. 1 do not struggle 01' seek to free myself. I only burst. into a storm of tears. I am frightened, troubled, and lie trembling and sobbing in his arms, hardly knowing what I feel, hardly con- scious of anything but a sense of shame and fear. I know, too, that Mnrmadukc‘s heart is beating wildly against my check. 1 , ,mi me, sweet; I forgot. what a mere timid Ulllld you are.” I sol) on bitterly. “It shall not happen again; I promise you that, Phyllis. lwill never kiss you again till you give me permission. Now surely you will forgivcme. My darling, “liysliould it grieve so terriblv ‘3” v .- n 1 11 .v a -V v ,, _ “ I don’t: know," I Whisper, “ only 1 do not want to be married, 01' have a 1mm, or anything.” . . u - v 1 , ‘ _.u_. .u av“-._° V, “ Phyllisikrhht i: it? whit have I done he asks, very anxiouslv. “My darling, was I too abrupg ‘3" Did I frighten you? Forgive ‘11 cm V l, , “Then look at me, ’ says Marmaduke, tenderly. “\Vill you not let me me my dear Wife's face 2” 1,. .Marmadukc lays his check very gently against mine, and for a long time there in silence between us. After awhile my subs cease, and he once more breaks the silence 11y saying: .v m u, rm _., 1 T -_. J“ 1’ ouowill marry me, Phyllis?” and I an- swer, “ Yes,” very quietly, sunehow feeling 21‘s if that kiss had scaled my fate, and I put it out of power to answer “No.” ‘- 1| I raised a. face flushed and tear-stained and glance at him slyly for a moment. Evi- dently its dimmed appearance makes no (lif- feronce to him, as there is unmistakable rapture imd triumph in his gaze as he re- gards it. I hide it agzun with a sigh, though now, the Rubicon beingr actually , (Amulvnlkwbu ,u.._, “.3, fevers all my wakilfg. huufitrsrmy sleép- mg) ‘ ,,. ,L_1.]Yu‘ ‘o “Hm! I‘Ia'v-n CH A I’TER XI. #Cnx'rxx um. BY “ This Mortal." PHYLLIS. THY. DUCIII' ' ‘ 1'. ‘tis well wifll me." before. passed, I fcel a sense of rest I had not known “ \\ ho is to tell them at home 1'" I ask, prusfintbf. n. 1‘ 1- ‘ u ux ,, ,d‘) 30, no,” I cry, hastily, shrinking from the contemplation of the scene that will ine- vitably follow his announcement. “It is too late now. ’I‘o-morx'owâ€"vabout four o’clockâ€"you can come and get it over, And, Mr. Carrington, will you please be sure and tell them I knew nothing of icâ€"never suspected, 1 mean, that you turn] for Shall I go back with you and tell them at once 1’" “ That I loved you? it would he a- pity to suppress so evident a fact. Though how you could have been so blind, my pet, puz- zles me. \Vell, then, to-mox'row let it be. And now I will walk home with you, lest any hobgoblin jealous of my joy should spirit you away 1mm me.” .u n A ,I, V. d , m, fogetherand rather silentlvwe go through the wood and out into the road beyond. I am conscious that every now and then Mur- matlukc’s eyes se( k my face and dwell there with a smile in them that betrays his ex- treme and utter satisfaction. As for me I am neither glad nor sorry, nor anything, but rather fearful of the consequence when my engugmnent shall be made puhlic in the home circle. And yet my marriage is a thing so faint. so far away in the dim distance, that it causes me little or 110 an- noyance. ,. t V t . . .u '1“, “ What is it asks Mr. Iai'i'ington, who is smiling in sympathy, "Oh that sneeze!” I say, when I can Speak, “coming just in the middle of your proposal. Could anything have been so unsuitable, so utterly out of place? J‘hat odious little convulsuml I shall always think of the whole scene with abhorrencc 1’” “ h ippose ] propose to you all over again 1‘” suggests M 1'. Carrington. “ It is impossible you can bring it in so unfortun- ately 2» second time;and you can then rec01~ lect the important event with in fire complmis' mice.” “No, no. A second edition would be flat, stale, and unprofitable; and, besides it does not really matter, docs it? Only I suppose it would he more correct to feel grave and tearful, instead of comical, on such oc- «:asions." _.v_, V “ Suddenly I stop short in the middle of the roaduud burstintoirresistible laught- er. “ Nailing] matters,” cxclaims Marma- duke, fervently, seizing my hand and kiss- i115r it, “ since you have promised to be my wife. And soon, Phyllisv- is it not 90 2’” “ Oh, no ; mural/II” not soon,” I return, decidedly. " There is plenty of time. There is no hurry ; and I do not want to he mar- ried for ever so long.” My lover’s countenance falls. “ \Vhat do you mean by ‘ever so long ‘5’ "’ he asks. “ Two or three years, perhaps.” “ Phyllis ! how can you be so unreason- able, so absurd K“ says he, his face flushing. “ "Iva ywu's/ It is an eternity. Say six months, if you will; though even that is a. ridiculous dela‘y‘ ” . on talk like that,” 1 Say, stopping to stare fixedly at him’ “I will not marry you at all. “"0 had better decide the question at once. If you mean to say you think seri- ously 1 will marry you in £th months, all 1 can say is, you are very much mistaken. I would not marry the Prince of \Vales in six months, so flwrv .’ If you once mention the question to papa, and he discovers I do not wish to be hurried into the marriage, 1 have no doubt, he will insist on my becoming a bride in six (/(l'I/x. But rather than submit to any tyranny in the matter I would run away and drown, myself. 1 utter this appalling threth with every outward demonstration of seriousness. '{eally the last hour has developed in a, wonderful manner my powers of conversa- tion. “ Do you suppose,” cries Marmaduke, with indignation, “I have any desire to force you into anything 2’ You may rest as- sured 1 will never mention the subject to your father. \Vhat do you take me for? You shall do just as you think fit. But. Phyllis, an/-Iing”»~\'ei'y ton<lerly»~“w0n’t you consider nu) a little .9 Remember how I shall be longing for you, and how unhappy will be every day spent away from you. Oh, darling, you connot comprehend how every thought of my heart is wrapped up in you -â€"-how passionate and devoted is my love.” L He lohks so handsome, so much in earnest, as he says this, with 1115 face flushed and his dark (‘ycs alight, that I feel myself rc- lcnting. He sees his advantage and presses it. “ You won‘t be cruel, darling, will you ‘3 Remember you have all the power in your own hands. I would not if 1 could compel you to marry me a. day sooner than you wish. And, Phyllis, will you not try to think it is for your happiness as well as for mine? In time you will learn to love me as woll~ no Hurt, would be impossibleâ€"but al- most as well as I love you. The entire (le- votion of a man’s life must meet with some return; and I swear it shall not be my fault if every hour you spend is not happier than the lust. Speak. Phyllis, and say you will come to me in ” “A year," 1 interrupt, hastily. “ Yes, that is a great 00110635101]; I said t/u‘ce years first, and now by a word I take off two. That is twent v-f0111' lonn‘ months. ’I'MHI.‘ of . y } D ’7 1t. \ ou cannot expect more. “It will nmm' )ass,” sa *s Marmaduke , l .‘y y “It will never pass,” says Marmaduke, desperately. “ [’0 will pasa, all too soon,” will I, with a lxcnvy sigh. All that evening and all the next day I creep about as one oppressed with sin. As the hour approaches that shall lay bare m_ _.,. . W, ‘77,,” '_ “.15..” WW. "I" O, I ' V oppressn‘ely radlant, and IS actually VVhlS‘t- ling. I begin to hate him. How detestable a man looks when whistling! ["Iouuboyx whistle 1 A my “n.1,. W ,, , u secret I ‘feel p081tively faint, and heartily wish myself in the grave. 1 am as wretch- ed as though some calamity had befallen me; and verily I begin to think it has. “'ith what intense longing do I wish undone all that happened yesterday? Almost as the hall-clock, with its Custom- :u'y uncouthncss, clangs out four strokes, My. Cari'ington rides up to the door. As I sit in :111 upperchambev~hke Elaine. but with what (litferent cmotiOnSIâ€"~watcli- ing my lover coming, 1 can see he is look'ng . ‘ ‘- . 1 If ....A»“.\1l" u at n llltJvAu . He knocks aloud, determined, and, as it cems to me in my morbid fright, a trium- CHAPTER XII. phaut knock at the door, and rings the bell until it sends forth a merry pool that echoes through the passages. A funny empty sen- sation comes into the tops of my fingers and across my forehead, as though the blood was receding, and, rising swiftly. I hurry to my own room and lock the door. 'ZVow he is in the hall, and Billy and he are laughingâ€"at some stupid joke, undoubt. Now he is in the library; 710w he has told papa it is a fine day; and now it must be all over! I am too frightened to cry. Half an hour, an hour, go by. I long yet fear to open the door. Another quarter of an hour clapses, and then mother’s step comes slowly along the corridor outside. “ Phyllis. are you within, open the door.” It is mothei":: voice, but it sounds strange- ly cold. 1 open to her, and pres,th a woe- l)eg0ne face to her inspection. She comes in and comforts me for a, moment. silently. Then she speaks. “ 1 (lid not, indeed. \thnm‘crl saw him I told youâ€"except once, a long time ago, when we met in the wood, with Billy. But I was climbing~ a nut-tree that day, and was afraid to say anything of it, last I should get into disgrace. And when we went for that drive; and two or three times we met here; and that was all. 1 mm sure 1 don’t: know what made him fall in love w1t11 77M, and Dora so much prettier and more charm- ing in every way. I don"t believe helmows himself.” “ Mother,” I cry passionately, “ don’t look at me like that. Indeed, indeed I am nnt deceitful. I knew nothing about. it when he asked me yesterdey to marry him. I was a great deal more surprised than even you are new. I always thought it was Dora (and I wish with all my heart It was Dora) ; but though .I refused him at first, he said so much afterwmds that I was induced to give in. Oh, mother won’t you believe me?" “But you must have met him many times, Phyllis, before he asked you in marriage“ many times of which we knew wot/tiny.” , “ It is certainly, most extraordinary,” said mother, “ and, 1 must add, very unfor- tunate. You will acknowledge it, lacks sus~ picious. Your father is much disturbed about it; and I really think Dora’s heart must be broken, she is crying so bitterly. If we had not all made up our minds so secure- ly about Dora it. would not he so had ; but she was sure of it. And his visits here were so frequent. I really do think he has he- havcd very badly. ” “ Phyllié, I neverthought you deceitful,” she says, as severely as it, is in her to say anything, and whh a look of reproach in her dear eyes that cuts me to the heart. “ It wzfs a mistake altogether," I nmmmr feeblx. “ Yes, and a most unhappy one. I am sure I don’t know what is to he done about Dora. She insists upon it that you secretly encourage'l and took him away from her; and your father appears to sympathize with her.” Then there follows apanse, during which mother sighs heavily once or twice, and I do severe battle with my conscience. At the end of it; I cry, suddenly : “That goes without telling,” I reply, bit_;_§{3rly.’_’ “ Mother, them is one thing for which 1 do blame myself, but at firstit (lid not occur to me that it might be wrong. One day we were talking of photographs, Mr. Carling- ton and I, amlwand two days afterwards I gave hlm mine. He put it in his locket, and when Dora saw him down by the river it was it he was kissing. 1 never dreamed it; (odd be mine until he showed it to me yes» terday.” “ I had forgotten to ask you about that. Dora and your father were discussing itjust now, and Dora declared she was certain it had happened as you have now stated. I’hy- llis, if there has not been actual duplicity in your conduct, there has at least been much imprudenee. ” “ Iknéw that, mother," I return discon- solatgly. “ This will greatly add to your discredit in the affiaix'; you must see that. Really.” says mother, sinkng into a chair, and sigh ing again, "this engagnnent, that should cause us all such pride and joy, is only a source of annoyance and pain.” “ Then I won’t marry him at all mother,” i cry, recklessly. ” I don’t want to one bit; and probably if I tell him to-mormw I hate and despise him he will not want to either. Or. shall I write? A letter will go far quick- cl"), But mother is aghast at this daring propos- al. Because he has disappointed her hopes in one quarter is no reason why she should lose him altogether as a son-iu-law. “No, no, she says in a, slightly altered tone. “ Let things remain as they now are. It is a. good match for you in every sense of the word; and setting him free would give Dora no satisfaction But 1 Wish it had all come about difi'ex'ently.” \Vith that she turn's from me and gets to wardg fihe doqr. My heart feelsrbrcakipg. “ Oh; mother you are not going to leave me like this, are you?” I burst out miser- ably. “ \thn other girls get engaged, peo- ple are kind and say nice things to them; but nobody seems to care about mfl, nobody wishes me joy. Am I wot/aim] to you 1’ Am 1 to get only hard and cruel words?” l’iteous sobs interrupt me. I cover my face with my hands. Of course in another moment I am folded in mother’s arms, and her soft hands press my gi’accless head down upon the bosom that never yet in all my gricfs has failed me. Two of her- tezu‘sAfell upon my check. “ My darling child,” she whispers, “have I been too unkind to you? I did not mean it, Phyllis; but I have been made so miser- able by all I have hem‘r .” “Blit you don‘t think me. deceitful, mother.” "No, not nowfinot at any time. 1 think ; but I was greatly upset by poor Dora’s (lis- appointment. My darling, I hope you will he happy in your choice, and in my heart I believe you will. At all events he is not liliml to the virtues of my dear girl. He loves you very dearly, Phyllis. Are you sure, my dearest. that you love him '1" a r r v 4 - “ Did you love papa Very much, darling, when you married him?” “ Of course. dear,” with :L faint Mush. “0h, mother, did you really ‘1’" "l‘hon, with areflcctive sigh, “at thatrnte 1 am glad I do not love Mr. Can'ington.” ._. . n 1. - “Phyllis E what are you suymg‘.’ It is the first duty of every woman to love her husband. You must try to regard M". Cur- rington in that light." . “71 film him, {1115 that is bettclz You were blind to papa’s faults because you loved him ; that was a mistake. Now, I shall not be blind to Marmaduke'sz and if he does anything very horrid, or develops unpleas- ant symptoms, I shall be able to give him up before it is too late. If you had been fully alive to papa/s little tempers, mother, I don‘t suppose you would ever have married him ; would you ‘:"’ manner, thus adding insult to Dora’s in~ jury. “ One should do both, of course ; but, oh, Phyllis, try to low him; and that is the great softener in the married life. It is so easy to forgive when love urges. You are young, my pet, but you have a tender heart and so I pray all may be well with you. Yet when 1 think of your leaving me to face the wide world I feel lonely. I fancy I could better have spared Dora than my own wihl Phyllis.” She whispers this soothingly into my ear, kisses me as only a mother can kiss, and leaves me presently wholly comforted. If mother indeed loves me, the acapegrace, bet- ter than her model Dora, I have reason to feel glad and grateful. MEanwhile {he household is divided. ‘ The boy Billee,” as Roland calls him, has been sent for two hours into Solitary confinement, because, on hearing the great news, he 0x- claimed, “Didn’t ] tell you all along how it would be ?” in a heartless and triumphant “You have twice the spirit, you know,” he says, in a tone meant to compliment. Dora is too doad-anrl-alive; no man born would be bothered with her. 1 am awfully glad, Phyllis.” “Phyllis, I cannot allow you to discuss your father in this manner. It is ncither dutiful nor proper; and it vexcs me very much.” “Then I won’t vex-you. But I read in a book the other day, ‘ its better to respgct yqur hpshand plum“ to love him, ’ "’ Loly also is on my side, and comes up- stairs to tell me so. And then he speaks of poor “Dora,” and a moment; later goes into convulswns of laughter over “poor Dora’s (llscomfiture. ‘I 5110 made so sure, don’t you know, and that; had upset and re-m‘l'anged Strange- more and Carrington' ani everything to her own satisfaction. 011, by Jove, it; is the best joke I over 1 93rd in my life I” And so When by chance during the evening pupil and I meet, though his manner is frozen, he makes no offensive remarks; and, strange as it appears to me, 1 Seem to have gained some dignity in his eyes. So the long hours of that day drag by, andnight falls at last. After dinner Dora comes creeping in, her eyelids red and swollen, her dainty cheeks bereft of their usual soft pink. Misery and despair are depicted in every line Of her face and figure. Papa rises ostentatiously and pushes :m easy-choir toward the fire for her (already the touch of winter is upon us). Mamnm. pours out a glam of pope’s own port. Even Billy proclaims a. truce for the time beingI and places a foot-stool beneath my injured sister’s feet, while I sit apart and think my- self a mnrderess. I begin to vaguely wonder whether, were I in Dora’s place, all these delicate atten- tions Would he showered upon me. I also try to decide whether, if I had been slight- ed by my beloved, 1 would publish the fact upon the house-tops and come down to the bosom of my family with scarlet eyes and pztllid face and hair effectively loosened ; or whether i would hide my sorrow with my life and endure all in heroic silence. I have got so far as the Spartan boy in'my medita- tions, when Roland, bringing his tingers to meet on the fleshy part of my arm, causes me to spring from my seat and give utter- ance to an emphatic “ 0/4 I" while Cheekie, the fox-terrier, who is crouching in her fav» orite pemtion at my feet, coming in for a full share of my weight, sets up a corres- ponding howl, and altogether the confusion is complete. “711811 it was subsided thch ensues an aw- ful silence. Then pupa speaks. “ It would he \vusfie of time to appeal to your better feelings, Phyllis : you have now! But that you are hopelessly wanting in all delicacy of sentiment, you would understand that this is no time to indulge in a vulgar overflow of spirits. Do you not see how your sister is suil'ei'ing'.’ Your heartless- ness is downright (liq/[1.4.011]. Leave the room ” I instantly avail myself of the permission to withdraw only too glad of the excuse, and retire, followed closely by Roland, who 1 cm) see is clicking with suppressed laught- er. “ How could you do it 7" I 331;, reproach- fully. as we gain the hall-door. “They are all uggry ppouglfzxg it'iszj’ “ I could not: help it,” returns Roly, still struggling with his n‘xerriment ; “ the solemnity of the whole thng was too much for me. I know 1 was going to laugh out loud, so pinched you to draw off attenâ€" tion.” “ I think you 7115:1111, have chosen Billy.” “ He was too far off ; you were the most convenient.” “And so you sacrificed me to save your- self ! ’ I exclaim indignantly. Like all men, Roland is nnuttembly sol» fish unlike all men, he is ever ready to make atonement, once the selfish act is accom- plished. .. A ,,1. . ‘ u “Even so,” he says now. “But look here, Phyllis : I‘ll make it up to you. Here’s ten boll.” And he tries to force the money into my unwilling hand. “ N0 keep it,” I return, softened by the gift; “I can do without it, and I am sure you want it yourself.” r\1 1 1 \: .1 7 -r w r r y “ 1 don’t Mal/y,” says Roland, looking fair into my eyes. “ l have plcnt-waur a while; and you know you said yesterday you had spent your last penny. \Vhen you are Mrs. Czu'rington you can stand to inc. Herc: no nonsense; if you don‘t take it this moment, I’ll chuck it into the pond,” (T0 in: (‘UXTINUEI).) A rural subscriber nuts to know if it makes any (lill'ol'cncc in the lastingncss of fonouposts whether you set them “top-end up,” or the same way the trees grow, or “top-end down?” Not a bit. A fenceâ€"post will last justas long set “top-end up” or “top-end down.” in setting a hen, however there is a, vital importance in this distinction whiréh the careful poultoror will do wisely to observe. 7.400 4‘- > oo‘ Agricultural Not e. Five Minutes Select Readingâ€"Summary of Foreign, Domestic and War Items ~ Concise. Pithy and Pointed. A falling tree killed a man at Mindcn :1_ few days ago. Five hundred additional constables wanted in Montreal. A \‘Valkerton J.I’. is on trial for threaten- ing to shoot a bailiff. London Township has banked down on the toll-gate question. There are 75,000 bushels of grain in store in Kingston, nwmting shipment In the spring. A young mam was killed at Port Hope rcâ€" ccntly by the falling of an (elevator in a, brewm‘y. The trial of ()‘Rnn'kc, the Burlington murderer, will take place at Milton on the 20th of March. The \Vorld’s Fair Committee at Niagat‘: Falls have had another meeting, and a 1mm}. pectus is to be issued. A colored minister at, London is almi'get'i with being a forger, fraud, bigamist, liar and unblushiug hypocrite, in a daily new»:- paper. ' The Montreal 11(‘1'Ultl Company is sung the City and District Telegraph Company for non-delivery of a (icspatch. Damages are laid at $2,000. Mr. W. Bowden contests the payment of the last dividend of the Mcchanius’ Bank on the ground that he has a, claim against tiw bank for $10,000 damages. The Quebec Bar is making 10nd demands upon the Government for justice in the matter of appointments to the Bench, m d are likely to give trouble on this point. At the Eastern Ontario Dairynmn’s cou- vention a letter was read from the Consui- G cneml for Brazil, drawmg the attention of butter and cheese-makers to that country The action of the Mayor of Halifax in up fcrcncc t0 the breach of the quarantine regu» lations at that port by the mptain of the Peruvian has been sustained by the authoi- ties at Ottawa. The shareholders of the Asbestos Mining and Manufacturing Company of Canada met at Quebec yesterday, and proceeded to 02" gauizc. The factory will be lmilt either at Quebec 01' at Levis. Orrin C. Thomas. who was rc-mztly :n' rested as one of the partlcs to the grave 1'03 buy at Buffalo has been acquitted. Chief Justice Carter, who intended to 2'0- tirc from the Bench in April, will sit; at t} -, April term of the Court; in lmnw, at, Wlilttli the G uiteuu appeal will be heard. Charles Hing, Chinaman, was hanged yr» terdzly for the murder of Ah Lick in Nevada. \Vhen the trap was sprung the condeumed man full with a scream, which was cut short by the dislocation of his neck. No change in Guitonu’s condition is o servable. Thos. McDonnell, who kicked to death in' mistress, Maggy Donnelly, at blew York was sentenced for life recently. A smallpox patient in the Buffalo p0,ti house escaped from that institution at a late- hour on \chluesday night by jumping out through one of the windows, which he foretell open. He has not been recaptured. A line of steamers to make day is to run from Monuluk Haven. 'l‘hu Nvuzx- denies the Queen‘s proposed Visit to Montqu is 11(30083itflt0t] by failing health. 'lussiu, will not recall this yum‘uny \‘CSM from the Pacific, but Will (lospntcl) thitGC two more f) 'gmtes. Russia‘s Panslavist intrigues in the Balkan peninsula, are engagmg the ati’ention of tin. Berlin G overnmcnt. 'l‘\\'enty-se\‘<m lives have been lost by the thundering of a British steamer bound frmn Odessa to London. I’ml'thold Auburhauh, the celrln'aiod Ger- man novuhstfiled at Cannes on \Yedncsday, in the 70th year of Ins urge. Tln‘cc panslavist agitators from Russia wore arrested {It-Jaroslaw. Ruthcrian catho- dral has been searched by the police. The disafi'cction in J amaica is reported to be increasing, owing to the unpopulai'ity of the criminal code and I'ccentincrcasc of tax- ation. Mr. Gladstone has announced his inten- tion of dealing during the present session with the county franchise and the land 5) tom in England. Mr. Stillman, a correspondent of the Lou- «1011 Times in Turkey, and formerly United States consul in Crete, has been nnmlm-cd by Anmnts in Albania. It is declared in official circles that there has been no communicutlon between (101" many and Russia relative to the speech of Skeolofl' in favor of panslavism. The British ship Atmosphere, (Supt. Johnson, from Liverpool for Valparaiso, has been sunk in a collision off Pcnmmhuco. All the crew except the steward wen- saved. At a. mocking of the Curlist Pilgrim (30m- mittcc it was resolved to consult tthatican in consequence of the letters of the Spanixh Bishops disapproving 0f the Connnittcc'~z action. Natives burned the town 01" l‘bCCI'iuarial, on the \Vest coast of Africa, and plundercrl the British and French factories. Sevnml owners and clerks are missing, and it i5 feared were killed. The new Egyptian Ministry has hurled (lo- Iiance at England and Franue by declaring that it will resist any attempt by the Euroâ€" pcan financial uomptrollcrs to interfere in tlw internal development of the country. Considerable excitement has been cuuswl in Berlin by the de< iion of a, military tri bunal, freeing from blame a sentinel, ameni- lwr of the guards, for shooting, while on duty, two boys (lead and wounding a third for teasing him. The News in a Nutshell. l'XI'J‘El) S'I'A’I'EN' .700 miivs :1, to Milfut