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Amer of “ Molly Bawn.’ " The Baby," “AW Fairy Lilian,” 016.. elc. CHAPTER XV.â€"conrmmcn. “ Yes I think so,” with an amused smile, and puts his arm round me and kisses me very gently. “And now we are going to behappy ever after,” he says, laughing a little. .-... . .77 uuwu. All through breakfast I am in a hazeâ€"a Jream. I out what they put upon my plate, but I cannot eat. I listen to Marmaduke’s few words as he makes the customary speech, and cannot realize that my engagement is over, that what we have been preparing for these nine months past is at last a settled hot. I listen to Sir Mark’s clever, airy little oration that makes everybody laugh especi- ally Miss De Vere, and wonder to myself that I too 'ean laugh. Billyâ€"who has managed to get close up to naeâ€"keeps on helping me indeiatigably to champagne, under the mistaken impression he is doing mea last service. I catch mam- na’s sad eyes fixed upon me from the op- posite side, and then 1 know that, I am go- ing to cry again, and, rising from the tabâ€" le, get away in safety to my own roomg whither I am followed by her, and we say our few final, farewell words in priw até. .IIU- Three hours later I have embraced moth- ct for the last time, and am speeding away from home and friends and childhood to know not what. We have been married nearly three months, and are going on very comfortably. As yet no cross or angry words have arisen between us ; all as smooth as um‘uflled wat- ers. Though Marmaduke is. if anything, fonder of me than at first, he is perhaps a shade less slavisth attentive. For example, he can now enjoy his Times at breakfast and read it straight through without raising his eyes between every paragraph, to make sure that I am still behind the teapot and have not vanished into mid air, or to ask me tenderly if I would wish to do this or'care to go there. . 1 .,.L:,.L :. mm." anh‘n, UMJVJLAIVAAU y . -u .. Two months of delicious thoughtless idle- ness we spend in Spain and Switzerland, and thenâ€"we pine Kor home. This latter secretly, and with a sworn determination that each will be the last to confess it. One calm, glorious evening, however, af- ter dinner, as I stand at the window of our hotel, gazing over the Lake of Geneva, something within me compels the following 51"??? = ' . L:A'._'l cu_..“,.-mM.nm.m& 1m Tnnlz. av by ---v_ -V He has also learnedâ€"which is more satis- factory stillâ€"that it is possible to know enjgynient even when I am out of sight. 4' 1 1:,:_.__ LLMUJJIM.“ :A'ln, bout. “ ow,heautifulStrangemorc must be look- ing now 1" I feel slightly doubtful of the wisdom of my words when they were uttered, and would have recalled them ; but the encour< aging amiability with which Marmaduke receives my remark speedily reassures “ Yes,” he says, with energy, “ it never looks as well as just at this time of year.” ” So I should think.” A long pause. " English scenery is always at its best in theautumn. After all, there is no place like Englandâ€"J mean, of course, for n. eontinuance. Don’t you agree with me, darling 2" "I do indeed. Dear Briersley 'Wood! How fond Billy and I were of it. You remember the clump of nut~trees, ’ane ‘2‘ “Is it likely I should Iorget it ‘3" senti- mentally. “For my own part, I think the wood on the other side of Stragemore hand- somer than Brierslcy ; but of course it was too far away from Snmmerleas for you to know it well.” -uu n V-.. Ano‘t'h'evr pause, longer than the last, and morer gloqugnt: .‘ .u . , u 3) '1 lllulv vnvx .fi. “ How "i should like to see itâ€"now ” I murmur, with faint emphasis gud a heroicâ€" ally 'SBpp‘l‘E‘ESSCd sigh. An Nam!" H‘Woiild you really?" 'risi'ng eagerly, and coming into the embrasure of the win- dow. “'W'ould you like to get back, darling? Not yet for a little while, of course," with quick correction, “ but later on, whenâ€"~â€"â€"-” ... . . . . W , :3 T _.__ I smile up to him, and am satisfied my words have caused nothing but the extrem- est content. . “ Very good. It is easily arranged ; and next year we can came and get through what we now leave undone. They must be wanting us at home, I fancy ; there are the birds and everything,” concludes Marma- duke, in a. reflective tone, which is the near- est approach to a. return of reason he had yet shown. _-_ .- . - IL:,,Y__,1_* “I would like to start at once,” I cry, frankly, flinging hesitation to the winds; “as soon as possible. I am longing to see every one ; and you know ’Duke,” sweetly, “I have yet to make a. near acquaintance with our home.” We spend a. fortnight in London on our Way back, when I am presented to some of my husband’s relations. His sister, Lady Handcock. I do not see, as she has been in Canada for the last two years, with Sir James, and, though now travelling home- wards, and expected evexy day, does not arrive during our stay in the Great Baby- Ion. Cousins and aunts and friends, however, are numerous, and for the mostpart so kind that restraint vanishes, and I tell myself people-iu-law are not so formidable as I have been led to believe. One thorn, how- ever, remains among my roses and pricks me seethi- m »,:LL #1 A", MM .1.».. Wouldst thou be a happy liver! Let the past be post forever l Fret not when prigs and pedants bore you; Enjoy the good that’s set before you : But chiefly hate no man ; the rest Leave thou to God, who knows what's best. . Laay Blanche Goingâ€"«with whom we stay a. weekâ€"of all the cousins interests me most ; though it must he confessed the in- terest is of a. disagreeable nature. She has a charming house in Park Lane, and the what, most fascinating manners ;she is in fiery point such as awell-bred woman ought “Be Know: What's Best. CHAPTER XVII. PHYLLIS. BY THE DUCIIESS. [Gom‘nm to be. yet with her alone I am not happy. For the most part looking barely twenty- five, there are times~0dd moments when the invariable smile is off her faceâ€"when I could fancy her at least seven years older. Now and then, too, a suspicious gleamâ€"too warm, as coming from a. decorous matronâ€" falls from her sleepy, almond-shaped eyes upon some favorite among the “ strongest” set, and I cannot forgive her in that she makes me appear the most unsophisticated childish bride that ever left a. nursery. So that I am glad when we leave her and move further south to our beautiful home. Oh, the delight, the rapture, of the first meeting, when the first day after our return, I drive over to Summerleasl The’ darling mother’s tearful welcome, the “boy Billee’s” more boisterous one. Even Dora, for a mo- ment or two forgets her elegance and her wrongs, and ives me a hearty embrace. And how wefi I am looking, and how hap. py ! And how pretty my dress is, and how becoming! And how they have all missed me 2 And just fancy! Roland is really en- gaged to the “old boy’s” daughter, after all ; and the colonel himself writes about it, as though quite pleased, in spite of her hav- ing such a good fortune. Though, indeed, why should he not? for where could he find any one handsomer, or dearer, or more charming. than our Rely? and so on. All too swift in its happiness flies the (lay, and Marmaduke comes to reclaim me. Yet the strange scenes of rest and completeness that fills me, in the presence of the old beloved,distresses me. \Vhy can I not feel for Marmaduke that romantic, all-stiflicing de- votion of which I have read? I certainly like him immensely. He is everything of the dearest and best, and kind almost to a fault; therefore I ought to adore him ; but some- how I cannot quite make up my mind to it. One should love a. husband better than all the rest of the werld put together ; so I have heard, so I believe; but do I ? F0: instance, I picture to myself Billy or he 'condemned to start in the morning for Australia, never to return ; one or other must go, and the decision rests with me. Which shall I let go, which shall I keep? I send Marmaduke, and feel a deep pang at my heart; I send Billyâ€"the pang becomes keenest torture. I lay little plans ; I mhp out little scenes. to try how far my affection for my husband wiz! go: . . . . "vs-n Again, supposing both to be sentenced to death, and supposing also that it is in my power to save one of them; which would I rescue ? Marmaduke of course I I haul him triumpantly from his gloomy cell ; but; as I do so my Billy’s beautiful eyes, filled with mute despair, shine "upon me from out the semi-darkness, and I cease to drag Marmaduke: I cannot leave my brother. When tlns last picture first presents it- self to my vivid imagination I am in bed, and the idea overcomes me to such a degree that I find myself presently in floods of tears, unable altogether to suppress my sobs. r 77“7\7V7171arf”isd\7711c matter, Phyllis," he asks, anxiously. “Is anything wrong with you, my-qgrling ‘3” . 7 v .-v “No, 1):); nothing," I answer, hastily, and yury my nose in_thel_pi‘llow. In a minute ortwo Marmaduke wach and turns uneasily. _,- , “. n. n. v “ But you are crying,” he l'emonstrates, reaching out a. kindly hand in the darkness that is meant for my face, but alights unexpectedly on the back of my head. " Tell me what is troubling you, my ‘ “Nothing at all," I say again: “I was only thinking.” Here I stifle a. foolish sigh born by my still more foolish tears. “ Thinking of what ‘2" “0t Billy,” I reply, reluctantly. And then though he says nothing, and though I cannot see his face, I know my husband is offended. He goes back to his original position, and is soon again asleep, while I lie awake for half an hour longer, worrying my brain with trying to discover what there can be to 'vox Marmaduke in my weeping over 133.1%. Still I am happy, utterly so. as one must be who is without care or sorrow, whose lightest wish meets instant fulfillment. and less and less frequently am I haunted by the vague fear of ingratitude~by the thought of how poor 8. return I make for all the geod showered upon me, as I see how sufficient I am for my husband’s happiness ; while only on rare occasions does he betray his passion- ate longing for a. more perfect hold upon my heart by the suppressed but evident jeal- ousy-with which he regards my love for my family. " \Vhom would you like to invite here for the shooting?” asks Marmaduke, at break- fast, to my consternation. “Isuppose we had better fill the house ?" “0h, ’Duke,” I cry, in terror, “ must yp‘uflo that? And I must entertain them 2111 '3” “I suppose 50,” replies he, laughing; “though I suppose if you let them alone they will entertain themselves. If you get a good many men and women together they generally contrive to work out their own amusement." “ I have seen so few people in my life,” I say, desperately, “and none of them grand people. That is, lords, I mean, and that. I shall be frightened out of my life.” “My acquaintance with lords is not'so extensive as you seem to imagine. I know a few other people. we will limit the lords if you wish it.” ' “Baroncts and very rich people are just as bad.” “Nonsense, (lax-ling '. I will be here to help you if they grow very dangerous, and get al- togegberlgeyopd Eontrol.” 7‘ Oh, that is all very well." I say, feeling inclined to cry, “ but you will be out shoot- ing all day, and I will be left at home to speak to them. I don’t mind the men so much, but the women will be dreadful." This last sentence appears to afford Marv maduke the liveliest amusement. He laughs until I begin to feel really hurt at his want of sympathy. “.Yoh doix’t care for me,” I cry with petu- lant reproach, “or you would not try to makng so_ pnhappy. ”_ “My darling child, how can you say so ? Unhappy! because a few people are kind enough to come and pay you a visit. You say I do not 'cure for you’ because I ask you CHAPTER XVIII. to be civil to two or three women !" Here he laughs again a little, though evidently against his will. “Oh, Phyllis ! if you are going to or I will not say another word about it. ome, look up, my pet, and I promise to forgive our friends this autumn at least. We will spend it by ourselves; though I must confess”-â€"regretfullyâ€"“it seems to me a sin to leave all those birds in pegce. Now, are you satisfied 3” ‘ p ‘ But 1 am not ; I am only ashamed of my- self. Is this childish fear ohstrangers the proper spirit of a. grown-up married woman to betray? I drv my eyes and make a. secret determination to go through with it, no mat- ter what it costs me. “No, no,” I say, heroically ; “let them come. It is very stupid of me to feel nerv- ous about it. I dare say I shall like them‘ all immensely when they are once here ; andâ€"andâ€"perhaps they will like me.” “ Small doubt of that,” says my husband, heartily. “ I only hope the men won’t get beyond the liking. Phyllis, you are a darl- ing, and when they leave us you shall tell me how tremendously you enjoyed it all.” Imn not sufficient hypocrite to coincide with this hopeful idea. I kill a. sigh before 1 next speak. “ Of course,” again visibly amused. “Surely you would not like to sit at the bottom?” “ No,” with deep dejection ; “ one is as bad as the other. In either place I shall be horribly cons icious.” Then, aftera brief hesitation, on with a decided tendency to fawn upon him, “Marmaduke, we shall have all things handed round; won‘t we, now ? I shall never have anything to carve, shall I 1’” “ Never,”replies ’Duke ; “ you shall give us dinner in any earthly style you choose, always provided you let us have a good one. There !” â€" 77’7bfiiél7’fi I say, with faltering tongue, “must I sit at the head of the table ‘3” “And Parsons will see to that,” I say, partially, consoled, drawing my breath more lightly. “ Now, whom shall We ask 2” says ’Duke, seating himself, and drawing out a. pencil and pocket-book with an air of business, while I look over his shoulder. “Harriet is staying with old Sir William at present, but next week she will be free. She will come, and James. I am so anxious that you shoulc meet each other.” ’ “0h, Marmaduke, what shall I do if your sister does not like me? It; would make me so miserable if she disapproved of me in any way.” “Your modesty, my dear, is quite‘refresh- ing in this brazen age. Of course, if Harriet expresses disapprobation of my choice I shall sue for a divorce. I pinch his ear, and perch myself comfort- ably on the arm of his chair. “ Is she anything like you T” “ You can hardly find a greater contrast, I should say, in every way. She is extreme- ly fairâ€"quite a blondeâ€"not much taller than you are, and rather fat. She has a. considerable amount of spirit, and keeps Sir James in great order ; while I am a. deject- ed being, tyrannized over by the veriest lit- tle shrewd that ever breathed.” “ I like that. But from What you say she mustsfilge a. terrible Bergen? “ Then my description belies her. Harriet is very charming and a. general favorite. As for Sir James he simply adores her. I flare say she will bring Bebe with her." “ Who is Bebe ?” “ Bebe Beatoun ? 0h, Handcock’s niece, and Hamlet’s ‘ most cherished.’ Fortunate- ly, her ni‘Bther is at present in Italy, so she can’t come, which is lucky for us all, as she is a. dame terrible. Then we must ask Blanche Going.” “Oh, mustvyou ask her ‘2” I exclaim, dis- contently. “ I don’t think I quite like her ; she is so supercillous, and seems to consider me soâ€"so young.” ‘ Is that afault? I never met any one with such a. voneration for age as you have. I tell you, Phyllis, there is nothing so de- sirable as youth. Be glad of it while you have it; it never lasts. I dare say Blanche herself would not mind taking a little of it 011' your hands, ifâ€"she only could.” “I don’t think so ;she rather gave me the impression that she looked down upon me, as though I were foolish and not worth much consideration.” “Don’t be uncharitable, Phyllis ; she could not think anything so absurd. Be- sides, she told me herself one day she liked you immenselyâ€"~110ped you and she would be tremendous friends and so on. Blanche is too good-natured to treat any one as you say.” 1 “Perhaps so. But, really new, Marmaduke -â€"Berously, Imeanâ€"would you not wish me to heolder? Say twenty-five or so, with a little more knowledge of everything, you know? And, in fact, I mean would it. not be better if I were more a. woman of the world ‘3” “Oh, horror of horrors l" cries ’Duke, raising his hands in affected terror. “How can you suggest anything so cruel! If I were married to a. fashionable woman I would either cut and run, or commit suicide in six months.” “A veritable little goose. No, no !â€"per- fection. I mean,” seeing me pout. Then suddenly putting his arms round me and drawing me down to him, he whispers, with deep feeling, “Phyllis, my darling, darling girl, don’t you know it? Must I tell it you over and over again? Cannot you see every hour of your life how. fondly I love you, just for what you are? And you, Phyllis, tell meâ€"do youâ€"â€"â€"" He stops abruptly and regards me with a. curious earnestness for a. minute, then, laughing rather con- strainedly, puts me gently back from him and goes on ; What other guests shall we name? Mark Gpre; would you care for him? “ Yes; I like what I saw of him. And Dom, Marmaduke.” "' Dora, of course. And some one to meet her, I suppose? \Vhom shall we say? I think George Ashurst is an eligible who would just: suit her. He is not exactly brilliant, but he is thoroughly good- heart’cd, and a. baronet. with unlimited com. ’ “ I don‘t think Dom would like him if he is stupid,” I say, doubtfully. “Oh, he is not a. fool, if you mean that ; and he has as many golden charms as would make a duller man clever.” “Thcn you really think mcâ€" ----- " I hesi- y! “Ah I who is mercenary now '1" I say, liftv ingrqfingerr 3f convictiqn. 7‘ Am I! You see what comes of marry- ing a. man of the world. Now. had you seen as much life as I have you might be equally unplgasanti." _ ' ‘A‘ But I don’t think you unpleasant, 'Duke." “ Don't you ? There is a consolation to be found in that. And now whom would you liko 'to invite, dmfligg _ “I would like Billvy,” I say, disconsolate- 1y ; “but he never is in the way when want- ed, like other boys. And Roly IS in Ireland, by special desire, of course. And 1 would like mother, onlyâ€"” “Perhaps' you'would like the Whole fami- ly {WSW WWW» mildly- _ _ ' “ Yes, I would,” 1 returnfwith aiacrity ; “ every”»â€"I was going to say “ man jack of them," but, thinking thisâ€"though purest English to Billy’s earsâ€"may be considered vulgar by mere outsiders, check myself in time, and substitute the words “ every one of them,” rather tamely. “All, that is, ex- cept papa: I doubt he would be amiable [or two hours together. But where is the use of wishing for what I cannot ha’ve ‘2" “\Ne could get Billy fora. week, I dare say, later qn,” says Marmaduke, kindly, “while the rest are here, if only to keep you from despair. Is there any. one else ?” “ No ; papa looked upon friends as night- mares, sowe have none. Besides, I shall have quite enough to do making myself agreeable tn those you have named. I only hope they will not worry me into an early grave.” “Well, theil, I suppose, thii Ewe or three spare men, this list will do ‘2” “ Delft you think you are asking a great many ? “ No ; very few, it seems to me ; at least barely enough to make the house warm. Here is a tip for you, Phyllis ; when mak ing up your mind to invite people to stay With you, always ask a good many together, as the more there are the easier it will be to amuse them, and much trouble is taken off the shoulders of the poor little hostess. Bebe you will like, she is so gay and bright ; every one is fond of her.” ” How old is she 1’” » “Very youngâ€"not more than nineteen or twenty, and she looks almost as young as you. She will suit you, and help you to do the honors. The only thing that can be said against Bebe is, she is such an incorri- gible little flirt. Do not learn that accom- plishment from _her. _ ‘ “ How shall I be help to it, if you throw me in the way of it 2’ I think you are acting foolishly,” with a. ‘wise shake of my head. “ What if one of these ‘ spare inen’ should chance to fall in love with me ?” “That would be a more \magatelle to your falling in love with one of the ‘ spare men.’ ” “I see nothing to prevent that either.” “Don’t you '1” Then, half earnestly tak- ing my face between his hands, “You would not do that, Phyllisuwould you?” “ No, I think' not,” I sa,y lightly, letting him have his kiss without rebuke; “ I feel no desire to be a flirt. It must be an aw- ful thing, as it seems to me,’ to have two or three men in love with you at the same time. I find one bad enough"â€"â€"malicious- lyâ€"“and that is what it comes to, is it not?” “I suppose so, if one is a, successful couquette.” “ Well,” I say, springing to my feet, “ I only hope Dora will get a good husband out of this turmoil, if only to recompense me for the misery I am going to endure.” (TO BE CONTINUED.) N. Y. Times. Cases oftentimes occur which show that the gullibility of the public is far greater than intelligent persons can readily conceive, but no one within the recollection of any “ oldest inhabitant” can have surpassed the woman Furnieaux,who has been passing her- self ofl' in England as Lord Arthur Pelham- Clinton and various other persons, and en- titled to vast possessions. In 1874 she met Benjamin Fowell, and on various pretences extracted much money from him. Not long after he succeeded to a colliery property, and she visited him there, his wife attend- ing her as a lady of rank. Besides money, she got his uncle’s gold watch, a. chaise and saddle horse, and ultimately be sold an es- tate far - beneath its value, to make advances to her. At length the worm turned. Fowell became exasper- ated. and wrote her a threatening letter, for which he was promptly sent to prison for fifteen months, and has only just been liber- ated. \Vhile Fowell was in prison she visit- ed the gaol Chaplain, who was so profound- ly impressed by her statements that in his ‘ sermon next Sunday he remarked “ that there was one present who had written a ‘ foul and calumnious letter to a lady, for which he was suffering twelve months, and expressed a hope that Heaven would soften the offender’s heart.” Another of her vic- tims not only parted with the whole of his own money, but borrowed $6,000 from friends for her, while six others have put ofi’ their creditors until the Crown should re- store Lord Arthur Pelham-Clinton’s estates. It will be remembered that a scamp operat- ed here under the same name a few months ago. ‘Lord Arthur Pelham-Clinton was a younger son of that Duke of Newcastle who accompanied the Prince of Wales to this country. He was a worthless fellow and became involved in disgraceful associations, which threatened his being placed in the criminal dock. All of a sudden, while the charge was impending, it was announced that he had suddenly (lied. A great many persons not by any means of a gullible sort thought his demise too opportune to be true, and are of opinion to this hour that some of the family to prevent a. great scandal, more or less connived at the deception. Just after the funeral there appeared in a London paper an advertisement: “They all looked very jolly yesterday in their mourning coaches,” which some interpreted as a, pri- vate communication from a “pal” of the pseudo-buried nobleman to him. These are the circumstances which, no doubt, suggest- ed to the ingenious Miss Furnicaux the part she had taken. For cold blooded audacity am “ brageon imperence” Becky Sharpe could not have surpassed her. Giovanni Lanza, Italian statesman, is dead. 7n A Remarkable Impostor. I» <O>NI A land of Boong Farm. and Mava flaunt Dhtancea. MANITOBA AM) THE NORTHWEST. \Vest Lynne is moving for incorporation. Cow thieves are operating around Portage la Prairie. ~ .The Great Need of Manitoba and the North-West at present is churches. Sewell is asking for a post office. It 313- ready has a telegraph oflice. NEW POST OFFICE.â€"â€"The settlers of Oak River are to have a post office established, to be known as Viola Vale. A “’ANT.â€"The vast amount of business done in freight at Brandon makes a port of entry there an urgent ueceasity. Hotel accommodation is represented as be ing unequal to the dede for it by travel- lers, especially at W'innipeg. Notice is givexi that mi aipplication wifi be made to the Legislature of Manitoba at ita present session for a. charter incorporating the city of Brandon. A Paper Mill is Rapid City’s latest pro- ject. It is intended at first to make only building paper, but wrapping and printing paper will also be made when the enterprise has been fairly started. RAILWAY TRANSFERn“ The Soul-is and Rocky Mountain Railway Company have transferred their. charter to the Grand Trunk and Midland Railway Companies. Arrangements are now being made for the early commencement of construcmon' and a. portion of the road will undoubtedly be in operation by next autumn. Around N elsonville speculation is Wild‘. It is quite common for a. settler to sell his farm at from $5,000 to $10,000â€"$25 cash, balan'ce in twenty to thirty days. The cal culation of the purchaser is that within the time specified he may dispose of the land at an advance ; if not, he only loses his $25. Notice is given that the Government land»; agents at the following agencies will clfet forsale the odd-numbered sections of Domin~ ion lands remaining undisposed of in their respective districts on and after the dates mentioned at the price of $2.50 per acre, cash, viz; \Vinnipeq, 15th March, 1882: Gladstone, Little Saskatchewan and Birtle lst April, 1882. The C. 1’. R. Authorities have sunk their well near the tank at the Winnipeg workâ€" shops some thirty feet deeper. A stratum of rock has been penetrated, and Mr. Pater- son, who looks after the water supply states that a fine overflowing spring has been reached that gives an abundance of water. He adds that he believes that there are three strata underlying the city that yield: good water, but varying somewhat in quali- ty and quantity. At 50 feet spring water is struck strongly impregnated with the es- sence of some mineral substance, but withâ€" out the overflowing propensity. At 60 feet. an overflowing spring is reached, and with less mineral properties. After 90 feet a fine overflowing stream is reached free from mineral entirely, and adapted for either drinking or washing purposes, the water be- in g much softer. These repeated experiments fully establish the fact of good water under- lying our fertile prairies at different strata, and that wells on the artesizm principle will speedily Overcome what was at one time thought to be a. most serious drawback to the country. 4 Navigation has been resumed on the Fm- cr River. The Electric light has reached Burmrd Inlet, the extensive Moodyville saw-mill» being now satisfactorily illuminated by the Brush system. COAL FIGURES.~~T110 following are the rc- turns of the total output, exportation and home consumption of the several collerios in Nanaimo district. The total output for the year 1881 amounted to 228,357 tons, the ex~ portation for the past year was 198,323 ton, and for consumption within the 1’rovince,. 40,191 tons. On January lst, 1881, the col~ lerics had 10,476 tons on hand, and Decem- ber 31st; of the same year there were 9,318 tons on hand. Burrard Inlet- trade is growing. Durim' last year, 36 ships, lumber laden, cleare for places beyond seas, as follows: For Sydney, 8; for Melbourne, 7; for Shanghai, 6; for Valparaiso, 4; for Iqui no, 3; for Adelaide, 2;f01' London, 1; for ape Town, 1 ; for Port Natal, l; for Yokohama, 1. The aggregate tonnage of these vessels was 29.â€" 261 tons. Their aggregate cargoes consist- ed of 18,937,800 feet of rough lumber; 2, 428,207 feet dressed lumber; 117 spars; 170,- 425 fence pickets; 1,062,250 laths; 590,000 shingles; 300 cases salmon; 24 half barrels oolachans; 10 bbls. fish oil. ‘ These figures do not include any of the domestic trade, which would probably double the ship ing. They simply cover the foreign trade 0 the port for the year 1881. ' Reveronce in France and in England. The preservation of historical monument- is among the things which are better manâ€" aged in France than on this side of the “sils ver streak.” In England scarcely a week passes away without our being called upon to mourn over the loss of some curious house which is connected with one of the famous ames in the world’s history. One week it is the cottage in which “ Hndibras” Butler was born that is swept away by an unsym- pathetic owner ; the next sees the venerable mansion which Gilbert White occupied changed into a dwelling of the present age ; then comes an announcement of the destrucâ€" tion of the suburban retreat in which Samuel Rogers penned his laborious coup- lets. If we cross into France we find that either through the action of the State or the local authorities such relics of the past are religiously preserved. In the back street of Orleans are Several ancient mansions which its municipality has secured for the pleas- ure of posterity. The last which has passed into public hands is known as the home of Agnes Sore], and for its acquisition that body has paid more than 12,000 francs. ' THE secret of the snake charmers of India. is said to be sewing up the mouths of their snakes. THE GREAT WEST‘ BRITISH COLUMBIA. 9¢4<0>001 HO>0M