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HIS SACRIFICE : Many times during his after life Arundel Anthon asked himself bitterly why he did not die out there on the plains; why, if there is a God who can read men’s future lives, that God permitted him to live. I suppose all of us going out ways through life have seen people whom we have reason- ably thought would be much better out of the world than in it. \Ve have asked our- selves wonderingly how an all-seeing God can permit those to live who certainly reflect no credit upon Him as their maker. and are only a source of sorrow andpain to their friends. Verily, there are many things in this world hard to understand ; perhaps there is no question more puzzling than this ~why two people are permitted to come to- gether when one is to be only the cause of great wretchedness to the other ; and when that question arises, it is sometimes far more easy to answer, it is late, than it is God. m . ~ uuu. \Vhother 01‘ no his Creator had some secret purpose in view woen He allowed Arundel Anthon to live, is hard to say; however it was, he did not die, although he went very near to the dark river which separates life from death. When he went back the second time into that land of wild dreams, Muriel’s face went with him; every feature seemed to have stamped itself indelibly upon his memory ; he would rave about the lovely eyes that had looked into his, the smiling lips that his had pressed. And Russel, watching beside him, knowâ€" ing it was Muriel’s beauty over which he was raving, could not conquer the pain which seemed to go through his heart, as he listened to the passionately tender words that fell from Arundel’s lips. At last the fever burnt itself out, leaving Arundel weak, helpless asa little child; and looking up into the face of the man whohad watched him so untiringly night and day, he recognized his brother, and knew that his appeal to Russel had not been in vain. In his weak condition the shock was almost; too much for him, it completely unmanned him, and his form was shaken with sobs, his white face web with tears as he whisper- To him 1.11 at overcometlLH 0 word divinely strong, The Victor’s palm, the fadeless The g "and immortal song. And his‘th hidd‘gn‘ mgmna, To him that ovei-comethâ€" Ah, what of bitter strife Before he win the bekble‘s gage And snatch the crown of life ! Vtht whirl of crossing weapons, \Vhat gloom of flashing eyes, What stern debate with uughty foes, Must be before the prize 1 To him that overcometh Shall trials aye befall, The World, the Flesh. the Devil, He needs must face them all. Sweet sirens pg temptation . Am! Ins I; n, pl.) lshed stohq, VVJthm whose whiteness slunes the name Revealed to him alone. ed: vu- “Oh, Russel, I thought you would not come to me, that 1 would never see you again, and it seemed as if I could not the, and not look once more upon your face.” ..-. .. n, May lur‘gix lvfil ysyi’lVéi‘vfir strain, And cope he must with subLile foe’s And blmxch ’neath flch pain. To him that overcomcth A mighty help is pledged: He wields a swprd o‘f pti‘rcsc mould, ;wvu. Very gently and tenderly Russel soothed him until more quietly Arundel said, mournfully : “I do not ask you to forgive me, my broth- er, I only ask you to pity me, I have suffered so much Russel.” By use of cycles edged, And. pro hers and eoni‘essors. A mate less valiant hand. Have vanquished earth and stormed the Skies, \Vith that triumphant. brand. To him that overcometh. O promise dearest. dear! The Lord himself who died for him Will evermore be near. Here, dust upon his garments, There, robes that royal be, For “On my throne,” the King hath said, “Mine own shall sit with me.” To him that, overcometh.â€" 0 word divinely strong ! It weaves itself through weary hours Like some rejoicing song. For his the hidden manna, And his the name unknown, \Vhich Chris!) _the {10rd one day of days Yes, he had suffered, certainly, that Rue sel knew ; and never had he felt deeper pity for his erring brother than now, as he said, “The est is over and gone, Arundel, We will not thmk of it.” It was the day after the fever had left him; Arundel had been lying very quietly with closed eyes, so quietly that Russel, sitting near him, thought he was. asleep, and was surprised, when the dark eyes opened suddenly, to see that there was no traces of slumber in them, only a deep Wist- fulnesa. “unyum “Russel,” h said, slowly, a flush creeping over his pale face, though he tried to smile, “I don’t believe that my head is just right yet, for something seems to bother meâ€" something 1 can’t exactly understand. I have a faint recollection of having a. picture in my handâ€"how it came there I cannot remember at all, but i remember the picture perfectly. It was a, woman, Russel, and it was the most exquisite face, with the love- liest eyes, and such a tender, smiling mouth â€"-I can see it now just as plainly as I see you ; it seems to be fast in my brain, on my heart ; I can seeglit always. Could it have been a dream, Russel, only a wild fever- dream ‘3” The thin fingers were twining themselves nervously, restlessly together, there was a puzzled, excited look in the eyes that were fixed so cage fly on Russel’s face. Very quietly the answer came. “ It was not a. dream, Amnde]. The picture slipped out of my pocket when one night I threw myself for a. moment down be- side you, and you must have found it lying under a fold in the blank etâ€"it is a picture of my Wife, Arundel.” “ Your Wife !” For Love of I~Ier. \Vill tell to hivihralone. CHAPTER IX. Overcometh. â€"MARGARET E. SANGSTRR. .4» .u h,»~ after life Arundel wreath, “So you are married, Russel, and I never IIan it; stxfinge 1 did not think that it might be so. Shk‘f‘w'very beautiful : tell me about her, Russel; tell me ail aboutévour‘ Vainly RuSSul tried not to notice the ling of bitter disappointmont in his brother’s voice, though Arundol himself was not aware that m the utterance of those two words he had betrayed his own leelln‘gs. He was Silent for a moment; then he said, trying to speak lightly and with a miscra blc attempt to laugh : . 1 n ,1 A,,]Y--..... wife? And then he lay very quiet, with one hand half over his eyes, while Russel told him of Murielâ€"of her beauty and sweetness, where he had first met her, anl how long they ha-l been lnai'ried- last of all, of his great love for her. “ You do not need to tell how much you cure for her,” said Arundel, a little. wearily, when he had finished. “I can see that very plainly for myself ; and I suppuse this beau- tiful Muriel of yours lovesyou just as devot- edly as you do her. How did you cvu‘ win her consent to let you leave herand come out here and hunt me up ‘2" Little did he think how cruelly his words hurt Russel; he dill )m‘ 300 thv shzu‘iow that fell over his brother’s face as he an- swered : r “ Muriel. felt so deeply sorry for you, Arundcl, tint she willingly gnve her you- sent.” “Then she knows all about me, does she,” said A1‘undel,bitterly-â€""imows what a mis- erable creature I am? ’ “ Yes, she knows all, Arundel ; but there are no feelings in her heart for you other than those of tender pity. Her tears fell like rain as she listened to your story, and she told me to tell you that even though she may never see you, she will always hear for youa sister’s love-»â€"that she will pray for youâ€"pray that the remainder of your life may be nobly spent.” n in n,1 1.|A__ “fix dillâ€"Valle, tlmt, Rmsel? God bless her; perhaps her prayers will help me ; it is along time since any woman prayed for He stopped abruptly, turned his head away and lay, neither speaking or moving ; and Russel, thinking he was tired, said gent- ly : “ I am afraid I have let you talk too much ; you are very weak yet ; try and sleep, Arundel.” “I behave I am tired ; while I take a. nap you go out and get a. little fresh air, Russel; yug qeedjt.” ' u .1 L. J 1-:L L1.“ But after his brother had left him, Arundel Anthon did not sink into slumber ; he lay them with closed eyes, thinking of Muriel. “Muriel,” he whispered to himself, “ the name suits her; it is such a pretty name. Strange in all my life before no woman’s face ever affected me as her pictured one has done, and she is my brother’s wife. Ah, how sweet life must be to a man who has the love of such a woman as she must be; and how dearly Russelloves herâ€"who could help loving her? 1 love her, I who have never seen her. ” ‘ Then he fell to thinking of his lonely, loveless life. Never before had it seemed quite so desolate and barren to him as now ; and thinking of it all, he could not re- strain the tears which forced their way through hisvclosed eyelids and trickled down over his thin, white face. Though he would not own it even to him- 5 self, the knowledge that the woman whose [ pictured face had been a revelation to him of l the influence a woman can gain over a man was a wife, and abrother’s wife as well, was a crushing disappointment to him. It was singular, unnatural if you choose ; probably it was because of his weak, low physical con- dition, but he had built upon that pictured face hopes which were brighter than any he had known since that ter- rible night when he had held Percy Evringham's dead body in his arms. The thought had grown in his morbidly active ‘ brain that he might some time meet the lovely woman whose soft eyes had looked out at him so tenderly from her picture, and in her he would find rest and peace; she would advise comfort, strengthen him, and perhaps who could tell '2 she might come to love him. Certainly it was a wild, unnat- ural thought ; but then you must remember that Arundel Anthon was mentally and physically in that low state when wilder thoughts than this even are cherished. After that there was not a. day that he did not beg Russel to tall; to him about his life; and thinking to divert his brother‘s mind from his own sad thoughts, Russel would tell him patiently about his home, his friends, his young wife, until after a while there was scarcely a detail in his life for five years back w.th which Arundel was not perfectly familiar. It was pitiful too, the deep attention with which the homeless, friendless, \vifeless man would listen to his brother, as he described his beautiful home, grew eloquent over his many warm, true friends, and spoke so tenderly of his lovely wife. And many times after he had heard it all, Arundel would say to himself with a. great; pang‘of sorrow and remorse. 1- ,1. _-4. A.‘".. wn“ ‘vnnr “Ah, Russel, I do not envy you your beautiful. home, your many friends, your weath ; but I do envy youâ€"may God [or- give me for itâ€"your young wife ” DMBVuE-élithis tiine b‘e' waavgrowing stronger, and Russel béguu to think hopefully of get. pingback to El Paso; that would not; be a ._ ,1 N! .m. n r n “:m' mu - quu .. __ hard matter as s00; :35 Arundcl was [-uflici- enly strong to ride, for they had t .roc fine saddle-horses at their disposal. They had made all their plans. Russel had insisted that his brother should accept a. large sum of money yearly from him, but though the liberal allowance would enable Arundel to live in comfort and luxury With- out a thought of wow, still he had resolved to go into Texas, buy a laxge tract of land, and settle down to mock raising as a busi- ness‘ 11853. . “For I could not live if I did not work, Russel,” he said, sorrowfully: “life is only tolerable when 1 am so busy that I have not time to think of myselt ; you have no idea. What it is to have a past so terrible that it makes you shiver and grow faint to look back upon it.” [JUUK Lli’Uu “I. Russel, ofcourse, was to return to New York as soon as possible ; now that he had seen his brother, had provuled for his fut m‘e, agreat longing to get back to his wife had come upon him. ‘ .__ ,..LL~ .LLA bum w.. L --. _ It was decided that in Six months the two brothers should meet again in San Francisco, and that in the interval they should con-es- pond regularly. 9n “ And, my poor boy, you must never feel that you are alone in the worl i, that there is no one to take an intcrest in your welfare, to care whether you live 01‘ die,” said Rus- sel, earnestly. “Remember that as long as Muriel and I live, you will have a brother and sister who will always love you and think of you. Be true to yourself, Arunde] 3 God will siud you something to do, and life will not Wain so hard, after all.” “ “.1 : your bring Muriel with you when 3 u come to meet me In California?” said” Amndel, wistfully. ” I wish you would, lhssel. I would so much like to see her.” ’ And Russel answered cheerfully. “ If it is a possible thing, she shall come with me.” He did not thinkâ€"poor Russel Anthonâ€" that Arundel would see Muriel long before he would, that it would be manv months ere his eyes would rest again upon his wife’s face. lt was the day before they were to start 101‘ El Base, and Arundel Anthon, stretched at full length upon his blanket; in iron of the little cabin, was watching the sunset. There was a very weary look in the dark eyes fixed upon a huge red ball which every mo- mom; \xfas sinking lower into 1138 bed of rose and gold clouds, the white face wore the saddest expression which it; is possible for a human face to wearâ€"an expression of utter hopelessness. -. . n ILL I.-.) W1 ___________ Many times during the years which had elapsed smce his own act had made him a. wanderer upon the face of the earth; Amn- Anthon had been tempted to take his own life, never before so strongly tempted as now, for never had life seemed so terrible, so unendurable. Sometimes we are unconscious of the blackness and intensity of the darkness in which we are walking, until a gleam of light reveals it to us. Often we can bear sorrow and pain with some degree of calmness and resignation, until by comparison with the joy and happiness of another, they suddenly grow intolerable. It is hard to reconcile ourselves to our own poverty when the rich- es of another man stare us in the face. Af- ter all, it is true, “What the eyes do not see, the heart does not feel.” Arundel Anthon had never realized quite so plainly all that he had lost, until he heard 1118 brother speak of his own happy, peace- fnl liie ; then, with almost a breaking heart, he did realize, with bitter clearness, all that he had recklessly threwn away. Home. friends, the love of a. wife, the spontaneous affection of children, these were for other men, never, never for him ; and yet it might have been that, instead of being an outcast as he was, he had been sitting by his own fireside, with a woman’s hand in his ownâ€" a. woman, perhaps, With eyes soft as Muriel’s vâ€"and with little children playing beside him. Ah, how that picture of what might have been came and went before the eyes of the lonely man,until many times he groaned in bitter agony, “ My God my punishment is heavier than I can bear.” Now, on the marrow they would start for El Paso, there to separate, going each his own way againâ€"0116" brother to go back to his home, to find there love and happiness and rest, the other to resume the old weary live of loneliness and labor and horrible de- spair. . .v . A,,,_., 3-11.. LU”. ~‘7Awn Small wonder that Arundel’s face wore itS' look of hopelessness as he lay there with the sunset-light falling over-him, and compared his own life w1th that of his brother’s. MLVUHV. .4. He could hear Russel’s voice plainly ; he was only a. few leet away, 'talking to the Mexican boyâ€"asking some questioas regard- ing the journey back to El l‘asoâ€"and utter a few moments he came and threw himself down beside Arundel. “ Everything is all ready,” he said, weariiy ; “ the horses are in a splendid con- dition, and if we start at sunrise we will be some distance from here by to-morrow this time.” "Yes, indeed,” murmuredArundeI, rather absently, letting his eyes wander slowly from the western sky to .his brother’s’face ; and ‘then he raised lns head quickly,forR113- 861’: face was deeply flushed,and his eyes dull and heavy. “ ' . .. n n ,x n “You are not feeling well, Russel,” he ,said, anxiously, “ you look very bad- ly.’ . “ I am tired and my head aches, that is all,” answered Russel, languidly. “I shall 1):) all right in the mornmg, alteragood night’s sleep. You don’t know how 1 long to get away from here, Arundel ; it; seems as though to-morrow would nuver come.” ~ But Arundel’s fears were not so easily quieted ; he had seen too many men stricken down with the fever not to be seri- ously alarmed at his brother’s appearance, and, rising hastily, he mixed some medicine, saying as he gave it to him : . L- A.“.,. :4. NJ...“ -- _- Om , __ V, “ It won’t do you any harm to take it, Russel, and it may do you some good; you can’t afford to be sick now, you know.” Russel laughed a little in he drank it. “ Me suck, Aruudel? Way, I have not known a day’s sickness in years! I have .._-.V.. w W], . , 7 , a wonderful y strong constitution. As I said before, it is only a. headache that trou- bles me now, and that; will be all gone by to- morrow morning.” “I hope it will be so,” thought Amu- del. But at sunrise the next morning, Russel’s headache was not gone ; it was there still, that duJ, throbbing pain ; and, (Liter making several iueifectual attumms to rise, he fell back heavily, his face U1‘0Vv'- ing deadly white as a suddcn fear came over him. “nu. “Give me some more medicine, Arundel, ’ he said, trying to speak quickly, trying not to give way to that bickcmng tear. “In a little while, cm hour or so, per- haps, 1 will feel butter; because we must start to-day, you knos'; we must get back to El Paso, I must go home to Muriel!” And Arundcl could not bring himself to tell him that not that (lay, nor for many days, perhaps never, would he ride back to El l’aso ; he could only stand therein silence thinking how he would break the news to him, until Russel, wondering why he did not speak, looked up into his face. ,1 _ L I.“ ..,.-,1 +l‘n1fln .11va“, AVVMV‘. .. . u.“ ,, For a. moment that Wluch he read there stunned him; then, though his lips were colorless, they did not tremble as he said, bravely : CHAPTER X. “It is the fever. Very well, we must fight it, Arundel, you and I, and, for Muricl’s sake, y_ou muff; nont let um die.” q 1 So, from the first he was brave, calm, hopeful ; even when he drifted off into the delirium, which is the natural course of that terrible fever, he did not rave wildly, mad- ly, as Arundcl had done. The days went on, the fever raged fiercely, and Arundel knew his brother was more dangerously ill than he had been;knewit and could do nothing but watch beside him and see him grow hourly weaker. .wil' \,1 This thing is certain, Arundel Anthon had then not the slightest thought of the fearful thing he was afterward to no, ; he had only one thought, one Wish, one hope, and that was, that Russel might live to go back to his home, and to Muriel.’ He prayed. $5 rhé Had hot done since he was La. boy, that God in mchy would spare his brother’s life. One dayâ€"4t wastoward nightfallâ€"1L party of surveyorsstopped at the cabin and en- camped about it for the night. They were Americans, all of them well educated men ; and very anxiously Arundel asked their opinion with regard to his brother, Out on the plainsmen f raternized readily, and there was not one of those men who did not speak sadly, as in answer to Arundel’s questions they told him truthfully that his brother had scarcely a chance for his life. They told him too, with grave faces, thatthey had that day seen what they believed were Indian signs. and Arundel was too well versed in frontier life not to be somewhat alarmed at the information. V‘Tilrér following morning before they went on their way, one of them drew Arundel aside. “I don’t believe your brother will live the day out, my friend,” he said, blunth ; “he is sinking very fast ; he is much worse this morning than he was last night, and I am not the only one who thinks so ; ask any of the boys, they will tell you the same thing. And here’s a bit of advice for you : just as soon as you possibly can get bacK to El Paso, or nearer to it than you are now ; there are Indians about here, of that I am positive, and the red devils are not the most agreeable companions in the world ; I’ve had many a brush with them, and I’d rather a. thousand times take my own life than meet death at their hands}: The party had not been gone long before Arundel missed the young Mexican. At first the boy’s absence did not worry him any, he thought he might have gone a little way with the surveyors ;but when ths time went by and he did not return, when he discover- ed too that he had taken their best saddle- horse and Russel’s rifle, he could not help feeling very anxious. Could it be possible that the boy was in league with the Indians, and had gone to apprise them of the whereabouts of the sur- veying party? It did not seem as if it could be so, for he had been so faithful and devot- ed to all outside appearances ; yet when he came to think about it, Ayuiidel remembered vw-uv vv ......._ .w. v a many of his acti which, at the time of their occurrence, he had thought were a lit- tle strange; Slowlyvthe day wore on, still Russel slept that heavy sleep which was so like death, Wevibably end In death; and Arundel kneeling beside him asked himself figspairingly why RUaSCI must die instead of him. “If death must have one of us why did it; not take me and let you live, lussel,” he whispered brokenly. “ l have nothing to live for, you have everything that can make life worth the livingâ€"great wealth, many friends, a. beautiful home, a. loving wife, and yet you must die and I live ; I who am a. disgraced, dishonored man, afraid to go back to my own country, afraid to bear the name which is mine by right of birth, an outcast, a wanderer.” w .. .unn. And then his agony seemed to culminate in the words uttered m such a passion of rm- guisll: A": T ma!» 4v. “Oh, my dear brother, why am I not in your place ‘3” _ Was there a. demon standing beside him whispering in his ear? for surely the horri- ble thought that came to him and which ap- parently his own words had suggested, was devil-born. “ My God 1" “H1211 a 10W cry he started to his feof, great drops 0t moisture standing upon his torehead. ‘ ‘ M. “Hgâ€"\Jvcame that thought into my brain? he muttered bpgrsely. _ “Surely I did not think it, no, no. not that; for though I have led a. wild, sinful life, I could not myser have thought of that ‘â€"Great God am I going mad '3” It seemed so almost; the blood had set- tled in spots upon his face, his fingers twitched convulsively, and there was a. wild, hunted look in his eyes. Almost staggering he walked toward the door and stood lean- ing heavily against the framework. _,, A L1-“ - .1 LI.“ zSuddenly an exclamation escaped him. He bent forward eagerly, his breath coming in quick gaspm Far away, shadowy and indistinct in the distance, he could dimly discern a group of dark figures, so far 01f were they that they looked like stationary black dots against the clear afternoon sky. But; Arundel Anthon had seen just such dark groups as that before ; he knew what they- were, knew too that they were not; stationaryâ€"that they were advancing rapid- ly. ' u n v i u "an M. “um. "hatl‘m‘ J “Indians,” he muttered, as after another long, searching look he turned back into the cabin. “ I was afraid the red devils would track 11’s out 1” nun.» u... v..- . For a few moments he bent earnestly VCI‘ Russo]; there was not a partic'e of color in the thin face, the lips were blue, the pulse so weak it was barely perceptible. \Vith a, deep sigh. in which relief Wu strange}; mi g‘wd \Vlth dospa, Arundel 1‘ to his 2005. y Oil the estate of Clyth, in Caibhness, Scot~ land, on rent day recently 200 tenants as- sembled in from; of the‘shooting lodge, 'where Mr. Sharp. the proprietor was waiting to receive his renitn. A deputation demanded a, revaluation of the holdings, which, they said, are excessively rented. The request was refused, Mn Sharp denying that the condition of the tenants is bad. Tue land- lord’s answer having been communicated to the tenants, they unanimously resolved to pay no rent until they got a. revaluation, and they also decided not; to pay arrears, lest, they should be made as a. cover for pay- ing rent. The crowd than dispersed. (TO 1:23 CONTINUED a: ‘1 1f the reader should at any time find him self a visitor to the first naval port olGreat Britainâ€"which he need not be told is Ports- mouthâ€"he will find lying plac dly in the the noble harbor, which is large {enough to accommodate a whole fleet, a vessel 0 modern-antique appearance, and evidently very carefully preserved. Should he happen to be there on October 21, he would find the ship gaily decorated with wreaths and ever- greens and flags, her appearance attracting to her side an unusual number of visitors in small boats from the shore. Nor will he be surprised at this when he learns that it is none other than the famous Victory, that carried Nelson’s flag on the sad but glorious day of Trafalgar, and went bravely through so many a. storm of war and weather. Very little ofthe oft-shattered hulk of the origin- al vessel remains, it is trueâ€"she has been so often renewed and patched and painted; yet the lines and form of the old three-decker rc- mains to show us what the flagship of Hood, and Jervis, and Nelson was in general ap- pearance. She towers grandly out of the water, making a few sailors and loiterers on deck look like mariouctiesâ€"mere miniature men ; and as our Wherry approaches the en- ‘ trance-port, we admire the really graceful ‘ lines of the planks, diminishing in perspec- tive. The triple battery of formidabe guns peeping from under the stout old ports which overshadowed them, the enormous cables and spare anchors, and the immense- ly thick masts, heavy shrouds and rigging, which she had in old times, must have given an impression of solidity in this good old “heart of oak” which is wanting even in the strongest built iron vessel. Many a. brave tar has lost his life on her, but yet she is no coffin - ship. On board, one notes the scrupulous order. the absolute perfection of everything of cleanliness and trinmess ; the large guns and carriages alterâ€" nating with the mess tables of the crew. And we should not think much of the man who could stand emotionless and unmoved over the spotsâ€"still pointed out on the upper deck and cockpit below~where Nel- son fell and N i-lson died, on that memorable 21st, off Trafalgar Buy. He had embarked, only five weeks before, from the present resting place of his brave old ship, when en thusiastic crowds had pressed forward to bless and take one last look at England’s preserver. “ I had their hurrahs before,” said the poor shattered hero ; “ now I have their hearts l” And when three months later his body was brought home, the sail- ors divided tht leader: coffin into fragments, as relics of “Saint Nelson,” as his gunner had termed him. Tacks. A tack is a simple, nnpretcnding sort of a young nail, noted far its keen repartee when pressed for a reply, and possessing the peculiar power, when standing on its head, of causing the cold shivers to run down the back of aman in mere anticipation of what might be._ "hows , Tacks are in season all the year round, but the early spring is usually the time se- lected by them for a grand combined effort, and then they flourish everywnere for at least a month. Since the time of the inaugu- mtion of the time-honored ceremonies of house-cleaning, everythorough housekeeper, with long experience in the line of duty, so takes up the carpet as to retain all the tacks in their original places, thus preventing it slipping from the shaker’s hands, unless the tack breaks or the fingers give out. But the triumph of the tack is not complete at this early stage -. it patiently abides its time, and on the relaying of the carpet is sues forth in double force. After searching the entire house for a. paper of tacks,without success, the unfortunate man drops on his hands and knees to begin, and immediately discovers l'our tack at least, and as he rolls over and sits down to ext act these, finds the rest of the paper directy under him, and then unl ss he is a; man accustomed to put up stoves and join stove-pipe the chances of laying the carpet on that evening are slight. In selecting tacks from a saucer he always inspects the points of his fore- finger, as the tack instantly loses its head when they come to blows. In argument the tack is sharp and pointed, but the display of either or both, ' depends largely on the amount of pressure employed by its oppon- ent. In direct contrast to a. good joke the amusement generally begins before you see the point, and this fact is ensin demon- strated by walking the floor in your stocking feet, a. well-kept room on such an occasion averaging two tacks to the square foot. The future of the tack gives grout prom- ise of more extended usefulness and un- llmited possibilities, as several of our most eminent college professors haue carefully studied the effect of a sharp tack of reason- able length placed properly in a. chair or un- der a cot, are about to introduce tacks, and do away with spring-boards in our college gymnasiums. The French in China. It is stated in Paris that China is making great preparafiions to resist French designs in Tonquin. The FrenchGovernment is con- sequently being urged to take active meas- ures. Telegrams from Saigon to Paris re- port 10,000 Chinese have crossed the Tonquin frontier. NOT A NEW Dmcovnnmâ€"There 'is a women who cats with her eyes. She looks at food and her hunger is appeased. All women cm talk with their eyes. The tongue is therefore a useless appendagelto the sex; still there are women who have found some- thing for it to do â€"-I’rogrrss. T he “ Victory.”