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“If it is best for you, that is enough,” he laid, and took his hat and left her without looking he; agan. What: the adoor had closed behind him Mary Ranley sat five minutes motionless. The airy bubble she had spent even years blowing was shattered by her own touch. She scarcely realized what had happened yet, but there was a numb aching at her heart, far worse than any keen, com prehend- ing pang. Tom was gone, and Tom was the lovu‘ of her whole life ; butâ€"and in this ' She wanted him to tell her that it was not best for him; she wanted him to prove to her that all her doubts were needless,but she had bur: him, and at her relenting be hardened himself. “If you think so I have notHing more to say." He rose to go, .stifliv, and then the tender heart in her failed. “011, Tom, if it were not best for you, do yog» think I vygqld hayequkenj’: “You are my youth and my happiness, the end or my dreams," she said passion- ately; “the want of you will leave my whole future barren." “Then why need you give me up?" “Because I think you will be freer with- out me; because you are learning to dread me,_and so yhe love is grovyiug imperfegt?” "'It was for your sake I tFougHt of Rm- gopql” he {aid sullen‘1y_._ v “Yes,â€"â€"dear, and it is for your sake, Heaven knows, that I propose to give you up. Iam a drag on you, and what you feel for me is far mqre friendship than love.” "If I make things worse for you, of course that alters matters.” His face had lost its smiling softness, his brow was stern and alugry. “I suppose the woxking ones of us know that success comes 3([116 time to the steady and patient,” she said, the first hard tone aoundirg in her voice. “And have 1 not been either?" “Dear Tom, don't imagine that I wish to find fault or criticise; I love you far too well for that; there is no one in all the world as dear to me as you are. But do you not; think yourself that our engagement has been t0c piotracted to seem bopoful now? You don’t feel 1‘. as Ido ; it seems to take all my strength away to see our life together al ways slipping furthu‘ and further 033: “You are tired 6f me, I suppose? You im- agine that I am likely to tobe a. iailure, and you wumen care only for success,” he an‘ swered bitterly. “I have been thinking often lately, Tom, that you would be wiser to do without me. You see we have known each other for no long that we have really grown to be more friends than lovers. and I am far older than you in reality. though not perhaps in years, and so I cannot help believing at times that our engagement has been a mistake." "Oh, you do, do you?” wrathfully. “You see it has lasted seven years now, and in seven years, you know, your science teaches that we change completely, and so I think, Tom, char, that it would be far better if you llanned your future without letting any thought of me hamper you. 1 am safe enough, you know; the high achcol pays me a. comfortable Eamry, and I have grown accuetcmed to the routine oi life with Mrs. Gillet, and so, dear, I can quite hou- estly cfler to set you free.” She was smil- ing at him bravely, and her eyes were very clear and bright. but she had an idea that her heart was weeping. The pale hands lying on the piece of needlewoxk prayed each other a. little, then the Eweet vpice sp9k_e_softl_y anq firr‘nly; "But I make a good deal by my teaching and I thought that, wozking together, we might ge§ on. ”_ “That is quite out of the question." he said, f1et1u11y,turning away from the plead- ing, patient eyes. “1 am not going to have my wife drudging all day long that we may not starve. I’ll auppcrt her myself, cr do without her.” “‘It'was all a mistake, due to my eon- founded bopefulness. I got a. m w case or two when Smithson was away lor his holi- days. but he holds the patients. and will go on hold ng them. The fact is, Mary, there is not scope here for two medical men, and I knew that, though I settled in the place when ycu wished 11;. But I have not made a hundred pounds in the past twdve months and you know that means failure.” “Are You not getting on hen?" she asked after a pause. "I thought you told me that your work was increasmg; I thought you expected that we might marry in the Sprigg.” Mary Ranley did not answer. In the pause that ensued she hrard the purring of the cat on the hearth, and smelled the faint odor of the mignonelte growing in the win- dow box. She knew quite Well that the linncts outside were piping to the roses and that Tom Danvers was waiting for her an- swer; but she also knew that her pulses were growing fainter and fainter, and that the Weight of a long dreaded blow had fallen. ed as her glance 13 ll on T im D.mveis, ham}- some. lilac-eyed. fair haired Tom, whom people spoke of only to praise. They had been playfellowev. these two, who were alike only In years. They were lovers now, and they would be husband and wife one day ; at least that hope had beautified existence for both of them during seven years. Seven years! It is a. big slice out of the best part of the allotted threesome and ten, although it was only lately that one of this faithtul pair had begun to think so. The other had never thought it yet. “What is it you have to tell me?” Tom crossed the room, and bent over her to stroke her hair. The movement was a caress, and than it enabled him to avoid her eye:- "'1 have been offered an app intmeut at Rangoon." "At Rangoon!” She echoed the words without any intonation of surprise. “That iaâ€"” “In Burmah. As if you did not know that and everything else, my little scholar ; and Rangoon isabig place with opmiuga for lots of tellowa. Stephens ha written, saying he needs a partner. and so I think, if you don’t mind. that I shall go out there in a. month or two.” “I have something to tell you. Mary Mary Ranley let her work fall iut‘ lap. and looked up at the speaker. Sh a. tall, slim, dark! a'nd woman of sev‘ eight and twenty, with a plain, patizn‘ and wistful eyes. She had not a. 5 claim, in feature or coloring, to any I: acknowledged forms of premness, an something about her would have com; a. second gianca from those who had 0; ed afir BET WEEN rIWO STOOLS. Wel}. Ton CHAPTER I. Wh'it have to tell me?" room, and bent over her The movement was a enabled him to avoid her colori: of pr .' w0ul 1 those ,2” Her face 2m Dgnvexs aired Tom, “0h: because you would not listen. Steph- ens ofi'era me either three hundred as salary or a share in the preoeeda, whichever I like, and he says the climate is good and living not very high, and I had almost persuaded myself, Mary, that. we might go out to- getherâ€"married. But still, if you prefer "Well. perhaps some fellows don’t mind being thrown over after seven years’ waiting and just as there is a. prospect of something definite at last." “ The prospect seemed very vague to me.” amiljpg faintly. “I have come to make things right. I can’t do without you, Mary; you are my sheet-anchor; I have felt adrift since I lost yOE.Il-â€" There was a drizzling rain falling. and the landscape was blurred, and the heavy clouds hung low, and the woman knew that the face she turned to her lover was pinched and whxte. “It isa week, and perhaps you did not ask about me. I never thought of going in any mad hurry like that. There is nothing decided even yet.” I. So Tom Danvera spoke, hurrying after her as ahe came home from afternoon school. “I thought you had gone, Tom, it is so lohgjihce I hard of youi” “Is there 50h? I thoughtâ€"I had an idea. there was,” she answerqd, falteringly; Somehow Miss Ranley felt that she want ed the letter out of her reach, and vacxlla. tion out of her power. Her letter was written, hurriedly, at last, and when it was finished it was an accept- ance. But she told John Hayward the truth. She had lovad Tom Danvel‘a hon- estly for years, but now that they bad part- ed ehe did not think any memory of him would ever rise up betWeen her and the hua« hand she was prepared to accept and honor. She wrote this all quite calmlv, but when it was finished she felt somehow as though she were twenty years older than she had been, and as it hie had suddenly become quite humdrum and commonplace. Yet she had no thought of changing her mind. She rang the bell composedly for Bessie, the little maid-of-all-work, and gave her the letter with a hand that never ialtered. "This is your evening out, I think, Bes- sie. You may post this for me on your way through the village,” she said, hethinking herself even of the little servant’s aflaira In that crisis of her life. "Yes, Miss, surely,” Bessie answered blushing, for she too bad a lover. and these evenings out meant the joy of the whole week. But then, nould ‘not marriage with an- other than Tom seem almost sacrilege, after all they had planned together? Why their whole future had been mapped out with etch other. and union with John Hayward would be but a dreary deception. John Hayward's ofler was unexpected, but it was very fair and manly. She almost started to find she was considering it, that opposing counsel seemed to be arguing the pros and consI with herself for judge and jury. On one side were love and ease and pleasure; on the other side was a. barren life,holding only the memory of a disappoint- ment. She was not a heroine, and teaching for her bread during awhole lifetime seemed sag and lonely enough. When she came to think of it, it was odd that John made no mention of Tom. Surely he had known she was engaged to him ; surely they had always made that patent to every one? Mary Ranley sat thinking over her offer in all its bearings, till the fire waned and her tea was ice cold. But. be v her with ai a message of peace 3r. capacity shn wou would I out any W05] would And wl' relievec' one :e to Nari for he write to l =- been her p motherly A I CHAPTER II. L1 ni r or her, -, ’she wondere 5 without tidi do m iter yl' mc nfldantea tmmon a1 he navel i0! )11 the fir W In: with mg M1 at mixed the covers. That is so like your very clever peeplel But how lucky the letter came to an engaged girl 1” "Well, I don’t see the luck of it, for I wrote yesterday and accepted him." “0h, Mary I And Tom 1" “Tom and I had quarreled, and John's letter came at my worst moment, so I ac- cepted him.” Poor Mousie’s eyes grew dim. "In that case, Mary, I suppoae you had better keep the letter,” she said, faltering, a. little. "It was really sent to you, and, after all, I don’t mind so very much.” Mouaie was so flurried that she did not notice her friend’s perturbation. “I fancied,” she said, holdmg the letter in her hand, but not looking at it, “ that he must have been writing to me and had mixed the covers. That is so like your very clever peeple! But; how lucky the “ThenIMiss Mary, I have in offer of marriage for you: it came to me. and, naggrally enough, I‘too}: gt t9 myself.jf "Grannie has been worse lately ; weaker and more fret'ul, and so I felt I could not leave her without a special errand.” "But she is better to day ." “Oh yes, ever to much better, and then Aunt Lizzie came to pay her a little visit, so I leltGrannie with her, and ran over to see you.” "Th It was very good of you my dear." “ Oh no, it was not; I came on business.” Mousie laughed and flushed a little, then she drew a letter from her pocket. “This came addressed to me yesterday, but it is evidently meant fer you. It is from that booby, John Hayward ; he is always in the elouds, or among the cog-wheels of his looms, and so theresultls a. blunder.” She unfolded the sheet as she “poke, and handed it to Mary, and this is what stood before the latter‘s as tonished eyes : DEAR Miss BANLEY.â€"In the pleasant excursion we had together last Summer I remember your mentioning a book on ferns that you desired to have, but could not get as you had forgotten the author‘s name. I have just come across a. volume by Teaher- stone, the opening chapter of which is on the Osmunda regalis. If you think this is the work in question I shall be happy to forward it to you. Sincerely yours, JOHN HAYWARD. Mary Ranley was sure some complex ma- chinerry in her head had got out of order, so loud and persistent was the whirring in her ears. When nhe spoke m last her voice sound- ed faint and far away. “Is your name Mary ?” “Of course it is, or rather Mary Ann, but everyone calls me Mousie except John Hay- ward. He thought Mousie no name for a girl, and so he always called me Maryâ€" Miss Mary ;_it soung so funny.” Twilight was fading and timid little stars were trembling into the sky beyond the un- curiained windows, when there came a. soft tap to the door, and M011 is Graham’s rosy roguiish face peeped ip. _ _ > "Com; in deaf, I am so glad to see you ; It is an age since_you were here before.” What can she do now? She has sown the wind, and the harvest of the whirlwind has been very swift and bitter. She has dallied with temptation, and her momentary un- faithfulness has cost her self-respect, But she will be true to herself at last ; she will recall the promise that should nsver have been given. It will not matter as far as her happiness is concerned, but it will be the first step in the painful process of self~res- toration. \Vhen her recantation was ertten there was a load off her mind ; but she was not in in any favor of impatience to post this let- terâ€"it would keep till she was on her way to school. After the Imrried emotions of the last twenty-four hours she was physic- ally tired, and so she sat rocking herselt backward and forward in her wicker chair with a, faint, sensation of relief in the motion. “Oh. you are not busyâ€"thank goodness for that l I was half afraid I might find you deep in the Differential Calculus, and I did so want a. good gong ghat.” ” Then you are a. heattleas woman, and I shall never forgive you I” be burnt forth. pronouncing judgment on the spot, and then he rushed past her and out of her sight. While she continued her solitary way with laggard steps and a. heart that lay in her bos- om_l3eavy as lead. “15in quite true ; I have promised to be another man‘s wife, and I wrote him that no thought; of you would ever stand be- tween us." she answered, arraigning herself. 7'You overrated me ; I overrated myself. You see now I am not worth taking to R m goog, not worth nloving or thinking about.” “But is it really trlfe ? Are -yoE not tor turigg‘me with a. cruel_ jrest ?" the offer oivthe first man who could.” She seemed to take a certain bitter pleasure in her self-accusation now. “Oh, Mary, I can’t believe it. It's not possible ! You who were always so high and far removed from the temptations that be- get ordinary women I” he burst forth groan- mg her and because her lllestory has been mis- told. If she had only waited to pest her letter next day herself it would never have reached its destination. Now John Hay- ward had her promise. There was no escaping from the position in which she and placed herself : there was no szsibility of showing herself even excus- able; she certainly had hastened with all Speed from the old love to the new. “I had thought you so different from that,” Tom said with bewildered increduli- W ; “I thought you would have been faith- ful to me even if we had partedâ€"Mr a. while, in! t at 1e mam znat very morning her senses had returned and she. knew thata brave, atronghearted, successful womanâ€"for she was successful in her own' wayâ€"has no right to throw herself on any man’s charity just because he loves her and because her lite-story has been mia- told. If she had only waited to post her letter next day herself it would never have reached its destination. Now John Hay- at least." “But I was I wanted somc and buy me fin apd, ghen you :ould ‘t, mail mptibl She t Au [ was weaker and meaner, you see. i some one to keep me in idleness me fine dresses and treat me well, an you could not do it. I closed with of the first man who could.” She 0 take a certain bitter pleasure in b on here, I shall '0 love me.” dismal mirth in her own (:1 stopped is it too 3 with you to_ Rangoon if ueema so eany now. when It anuwued with a break in l and they faced v how pale she v you to Rangqon late? prom rtainly, you have all she had done alled for. Why. ‘ses had returned , stronghearted, was successful in to throw herself because he loves >rv has been mis- ited to post her to marry lad not A man named McCormick, who arrived from Montana. this week, tells this story which, however we cannot vouch for :â€"On the way to Macleod he passed through the South Peigan Agency, where the Indians are at present in a. very disturbed state, owing to the giving out of their rations. From the reserve he was followed by five Indians, who fired upon him. He had a good horse,and put the spurs to him, gradu- ally pulling ahead of them. When he thought he had distanced his pursuers, he stopped and-took off his saddle, -to rest his horse and get something to eat. He had scarcely settled himself when, on looking up. he saw two Indians taking a. bird’s‘eye View of him from a butte. As soon as they saw that they were seen. they began pump- ing the contents of their rifles in his direc- tim. He says he suddenly came to the con- clusion that he was not hungry, and that he had urgent business farther north. He then saddled up and struck out for Macleod, which he reached without further accident. It is stated in the Cosmos [es Mondes that in the city of Utrecht, which is supplied with an exceedingly pure water, it has been found necessary to make use of tin service pipe coated externally with lead. " And then Mary burst into tears, and stood sobbing against h_is ahou}der_: “Oh: Tom, I have missed you so 1" she said. “Well. I am here now to take care of you ; won't that be reversing the old order of fibiggs ?_" smiling,“ be; fongil_y. And so it came about that Mary Renley, despite her dangerous hesitation between two stools, found a comfoxtable seat on one of them, after all. “Yes, it is I. I came back as soon as ever I knew you were free.” “I have not deserved it.” “Perhaps not , but then, you see, I could not do without you. I need some one to scold and keep me right. a “Oh. 110, Tom, never again: old things and old habits are all ended.” “And you threw the other follow over 2" "No. not that exactly ; it was all a mis- takeâ€"all my pride and his stupidity ; but I have been well punished tor everything. I never thought you would acme back.” “I did 710:; 'mean to come back, till I found there was no getting on without yoq.fl. - “011, very well." Mary expected one of the pupil teachers who wanted a. certificate; so she went up-stairs and put her out-door things away, and brushed her hair, and then came down to be the school-mistress at home. But in was not Jane Blakmey who rose at her entrance. but a. tall, brown- bearded mm, who looked into her face, and then held out his hands to her without a word. ' "Tom! she said with a little fluttering sigh; "Tom 1" It was dusk as she went wearily down the street. It was very still and empty, and she felt thankful for that and for the com- ing peace of her solitary parlor. Bat she stooi for an instant on the doorstep to watch the trembling stars,befoxe she rang the hell. Bessie anuâ€"vered it with a beaifiing face. She was very fond of Miss Rimley, who had alwavs been kind to her. “There is a. visitor for you in the parlor, misa.” But she was a. good teacher, she was a auccesa in the high school. and she clung to that poor triumph as her last source of happiness. It was she, the strong one, who would do a small work in a email groove all her life, and Tom who would grow to success and power. But she deserved that for her wrong estimate of both of them. And every one knew that he was doing well and that he had forgotten her. Why, it was only the other day that Mr. Wheelhonse, had stopped her to tell her that he had just been asking Tom by letter why he was neglecting Mary Ranley. 'i'It wag very'good ofryou,” she had said, going home with another shaft rankling in her aore heart. Tom Danvers went to Rangoon. as he had said, in much disgust and despair. ‘ Mary's unfaithfulness had turned the sunlight into darkness for him, but through his pain a. certain resolution to be and do something grew daily. He would forget her, he would never speak of her, and if men uttered her name he would turn aside. but he would do so well with his own life that one day she would know him the superior of the man she had married. So, in much wrath and scorn, he sailed away to succeed or fail as might be. As for Mary, her life was all at the dead level of m0-otony now. There was 31 ways the morning's work, always the evening's enforced idleness, and periodically the long empty holidays in which hex-loneliness grew only more assertive. r 7 never speak of her, and name he would turn a do so well with his ow she would know him th she had married. So, She was growing old, she would soon be 30, and alremdy there where white threads in jibe glossy amoothnegs of her hair. tio u Bessie never knew till this hour why Miss Ranley gave her five shillings Instead of the scolding she expected. neither does John Hayward understand why letter number one never reached him. “You forgot t9 fake it out, I suppose ?“ speaking, in a. vmce so high and eager that is aéarcely aqunded like her own. than if M "Oh, no Miss; I took it and put it in my water-proof pocket, but Peter met me be~ [are I reached the office and then I forgot, but I’ll run out with it now in a. minute.” “Bring it to me instead, please ; I don’t wqpt it; posted pow." him mgnp tray: and as she fluted about the Mary spoke with the feeling of despe which makes us always want to 11y a. on our wound. “You posted my letter last night)1 .u Basie paused, the picture of consterna "0h, Miss, I’m afraid I forgot all about You are a. generous little darling, but 'e 13 no necessity for your sacrifice even Ir. Hayward would permit it. I wrate . my recantation this afseraoou. There 1e letter; you can send it to him With 1' own. He wil be sure of its gmuine- a that Way. ” hen the two girls kisaed and cried over '1 other, and after the exchange of divers a well f0 hold every-day 9.1an )y Bessie came A Ride for Life. ‘“<-H¢ ‘yment. in with the 1: about the ta ‘0 some hand. table ration 261‘ Lord Randolph Churchill. Scarce-Iv above the middle height, of slight build. and apparently delicate consti- tution, Lord Randolph Churchill has smooth dark brown hair, psrted down the middle and thin at the crown. Toe head is small, the eyes large, the nose short, and the cheek bones somewhat high. His lordship’s mou- stache is, however. the most conspicuous object of his personal appearance. It is the large blonds moustache of a Zouave of politics. Once, by mistake. Mr. Jacob Bright alluded to the noble lord as “the member for Woodcock," and the House laughed consumedly. And once a newspaper scribe hit upon a happier title, “ The Benâ€" tam of Debate.” From {our o'clock in the afternoon. all through dreary question time, he sits impatiently in his place, gently agi- tating his left knee, nursing above his right, and afiecticn atel y caressing the moustache. Dexter and sinister hands go up alternately to the silky daring of his lips. Fresh with rest, or haggard and pale with late hours, Lord Randolph never ceases to fondle the moustache. It lends an added joy to the unfrequent hour of victory, or while Lord Hartington, sixteen years his senior, at- tempts, but fails, to wither him with an as- sumption of patriarchal superiority. Un- doubtedly this old-young man prefers politics to what is called pleasure, yet does not ignore the claims of society in the world of words. He is of the very few members of Parliament who dress for dinner. So the flowers and songsters of the virgin forest, unseen, unheard of man, are made pleasant to look on ; and what nature does for bud and blossom, the barber and the tailor do for the lively leader of the Fourth Party. Lord Randolph's clothes are. however, but the husk of him, the outside part first seen. The kernel within seems sound, and, if care- fully preserved, nay hereafter become illustrious. His industry is marvellous, his readiness of resource worthy of all praise ; and though he speaks frequently, be is on the whole worth listening to. He is not eloquent with the eloquence of Mr. Glad- stone or Mr. Bright. He has, indeed, a slight lisp, an imperfection of vocal delivery which spoils his pronunciation of some of the consonants, particularly of the letter S. If, however, he never rises to lofty heights of declamation, he seldom sinks below the safe level of commonplace. His occasional ob- servations are neatly turned, and his set speeches cleverly constructed. He is scarce- ly ever at a loss for an idea, never for a word. Reverenceâ€"what is called venera- tionâ€"cannot, however, be described as his strong point. Supposed to be subordinate to Sir Stafford Northcnte, when it suits him to do so, he defies his chief ; and the approv- ed leaders of the Liberal Party first under his stinging and unsparing invective. Though not always brilliant. his sallies are often cutting. His daring knows no bounds. Mr. Gladstone once called across the floor that he had utterly smashed, pulverized, and demolished him. That was a mistake. A kiss is a paroxysmal contact between the labial appendages attached tothe superior and inferior maxillaries respectively of a man and woman or two women. The younger the parties are the more paroxysmal will be the paroxysm, and in case it be observed by the fond father of the peroxyzed young lady. there is also likely to be perigree between the paroxyzer’s pedalic junction and the phalenged extremities of the metatarsns, and other bric~a-bra.c depending from the lower end of the old gentleman‘s right leg. The kiss itself is not the pnroxysm. It is merely the vibrations of the superincum- bent atmosphere resultant from the expul- sion of sweetness from each of the pairs of lips engaged in creating it.â€"Bloomington Mail. The Prime Minister might as we“ havrverziiis; tempted to annihilate a. Jack-in-the-Box by shutting down the lid. To the fact that many such noble char- acter! have existed in all ages, the world it- self owes 11:; life. Without them disease would soou ruin life, cities perish and the gardens of the earth become either wilder- nesses or deserts. During fearful cholera. visitations. and whenever and wherever the yellow fever, small prx or plague have broken out with terrible effect, human nature has not proved wanting in pity. Heroes and heroines have sprang up on all sides. ready for the labor of love, whose only earthly rewards may be quiet graves, or in extreme cases in a. quick-limed trench beside some of those whom they have been trying to save. The true nobility of character that takes such risks for others can never be described, but their example should be kept in mind and with it the thought that there is something braver than imperilling one's lifein sanguinary conflict, and that is putting it at stake that those of others may be savedâ€"Presbyterian Banner. There is said to be something inspiring in battle, something that makes the naturally bnve man lose sight entirely of self and heed only the conflict. The roar of guns, the clash of arms and the sight of multi. nudes rushing to the charge draw the soldier onward, as the sound of bugle and the tramp of many boofs influence the cavalry horse, that has lost the rider, but nevertheless keeps his place in the ranks. N 0 battle cry cheers these other heroes. All is quiet ex- cept when broken by the rumble of a hearse or doctor’s buggy over the stones, and the ache and sighs oi the bereaved and suffering â€"the well have fled ; the sick and their faithful attendants alone remain. firevails and fight it day afte; (fay, week after week, to comfort the dying with the consolatmns of religion, give hope to the sick in body and acsheart, to be patient and watchful through all, and yet have the fact every moment brought to mind that the nurse is just as vulnerable to the attacks of the mysterious 1'03 as were its victims who are now writhing in its clutches. 1; is rather heroes of his them They 3‘0 Th face Uncrowued A Kiss Explained 3. st mu 11V Jundreds v with force are mule in which and in mar: 20 enter intoa reds W111 fall, to op- force ; but how much tancy are needed to )re daad‘ly pestilence day after day, week the dying with the r! prm tangx hie Heroes. '16 famous hav 410M; nay be ml; f the eeds )I‘l